#actually i’m not really even having a good time but semantics

[titsthedamnseason]

some of the za inconsistencies just make me laugh. like when they made a big production about how no one is supposed to ride on a dragon but now they’re basically taxis and how it was this huge deal to use the binding needle that you had to be specially trained for and now it’s just being used left and right 😭 what was the point

[tojisun]

I’m soooooo obsessed with your poolverine! Especially where Logan is fucking reader while Wade watches!

But what if Wade gets so desperate that he cums untouched just humping his rosey leaking cock into the air as he watches Logan fill you round after round

teehee thank you!! and this is so delish oh my goood <33 // cw: SMUT; afab!reader; poly with set power dynamics (dom logan, sub reader n sub wade); voyeurism; praise kink // divider by @/plutism

it’s—

it’s heinous, really, how wolve-fuckin’-rine could just go for hours fucking you, breeding you, while leaving wade leaking like a motherfucker. tearing up too, sure, but he’s still got his mask on so they can all pretend that he isn’t truly crying.

(he’s actually weeping but, well, semantics.)

it started the way it always does.

“stay there, bub,” logan sniped, his grin just a bite too mean, but wade didn’t even fight back because the three of you are used to this back-and-forth; of logan taking you like even after all these years, he still had to stake his claim, while wade was made to wait.

after all, this game is one of a hunt; it starts with wade waiting, raptly watching the way logan devours you, before being allowed the scraps—licking logan’s cum off your cunt, wade’s tongue pushing you to another shaking orgasm.

a hyena that is allowed to feast after the lion had its fill.

but it was different today—logan was more mean. he was more impatient to wade.

logan kept going; fucking his thick fingers in your cunt, crooning how he was doing this for your own good.

“shh, yer not ready for pups yet, darl,” he hummed, a heavy hand pressing down on your stomach to stop your thrashing; holding you down to force his thick fingers in, and scooping out his cum amidst the squelches of your cunt.

you keened, fisting the sheets as tears leaked out of your eyes, wetting your already-damp cheeks.

“s’too much!” you cried, unable to stop your hiccupping. “l’gan, please!”

but logan just nuzzled his maw on the inside of your thighs, puffing out breathy chuckles.

wade was straining then, his grip breaking the wooden arm rests. he ignored the splinters digging into his flesh, unable to do anything that wasn’t watching.

waiting.

he was slowly realizing that he would not have his turn today.

logan has you in a mating press now.

you’ve yelled so many times, warning logan—warning them—that you’re cumming but there was no gushing squirt nor trickling cum, and the two of them realize with hitched breaths that logan’s finally fucked you into dry orgasming.

it was a delicious sight, one that pushed wade to finally free his cock from inside his suit.

logan had shot him a gleeful look, his ravenous eyes tracking down the mess that wade has become—heaving chest, leaking cock, mask finally damp with his tears.

(you’ve glanced at your lover too, devouring how he looks, ever so patiently waiting even when he’s been denied for hours now.

wade always chirps. he’s always filled the silence with his chatter, but he’s been so, so quiet today. like he’s at a loss for words, unable to sound any more that isn’t ragged wheezes. like by staying quiet, he’s able to force himself to not jump you or to not touch his own cock.

fuck, what a good boy wade is.)

“almost, bub,” logan murmurs to wade, humping his cock in you like he’s affirming his own words. the action forces another choked moan out of you, and wade’s cock jumps, pre- dripping down his length.

logan tracks it throughout.

“yeah?” wade finally rasps out, his voice sounding so utterly broken. “y’fuckin’ swear?”

logan rolls his eyes at his words before huffing a fond laugh.

“swear on it,” logan replies, licking at his salty lips.

he pauses, turning his attention back to you. he ruts his cock in, nudging at the pudgy walls of your pussy with a pleasured hiss.

(you’re an unbelievable marvel, peanut. all soft and sweet.

all so delicious.)

amidst your high-pitched squeals, logan shoots wade another glance. he looks even more hungry now, and wade doesn’t get to ask his stuttered ‘what?’ when logan croons, “‘fore that, won’t y’cum for me, pool?”

wade’s body jumps to obey the order, only—

“but no touchin’ yerself.”

the whine wade lets out is so pathetic and broken, but it only makes logan smile wider, like he knows wade would be a good mutt and follow his command—

jesus. thinking about logan praising him just made him ultra-horny.

wade shuffles on his spot without a word, legs parting even wider to make it easier for himself. he’s so busy squirming at the feeling of the cool air wrapping around his cock that he’s missed you and logan changing positions on the bed—you’re riding logan now, your back to his chest, with logan’s chin hooked on your shoulder as the two of you watch wade.

wade curses underneath his breath when he finally looks up, and it tickles a giggle from you. it quickly peters into a high keen when logan fucks you up the length of his cock before dropping you down, using gravity to sit you snug and stuffed full.

fuck.

wade’s bitten moans spill into the hot space between the three of you, and he wonders: between you and wade, who is logan’s prize?

whose keening desperation is logan watching?

wade humps at nothing, unable to stop himself anymore. he times it with logan’s manhandling of your body—thrusting up when logan grasps at the back of your thighs to lift you up from his cock; then pressing back down on the couch when logan drops you back to engulf the entirety of his length.

wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that it doesn’t even take a while before his whole body is locking, pleasure and desperation mixing like a vice to grip at his body.

his orgasm builds—

“cum f’me, wade,” logan sings, sounding so utterly soft like he’s not in control of both you and wade’s pleasures, but wade has always been logan’s good boy. always been desperate for logan. always—

his orgasm rips him apart—that is the only way wade can explain it.

it wracks his body with unimaginable tremors, like wade’s body is undergoing its own earthquake. he nearly blacks out at the pleasure, and it should be embarrassing—it will be, later when logan’s cock is in his throat and your strap is fucking wade’s hold, and the two of you are murmuring how wade is your precious and desperate little cum slut—but right now, he basks in the pleasure and the pride shining in logan’s eyes.

jesus fuck. that was good.

biting a rock bcuz this one rlly had me sweating like mmmmy god

im so sorry if this is bad 😣 wrote this while walkin’ around the mall so it might be choppy n clipped in some parts GAH

wade gets a turn (somewhat)

[shyvioletcat]

I love this au, you love this au. Let's just get to it.

~ Masterlist ~

~~~~~

Today Aelin was only booked in for a half day at the aquarium. It was off-peak, middle of the school term and the usual slow Wednesday crowd. There weren’t many visitors to the aquarium besides the odd school group and to keep it fair the mermaid shifts were split. Aelin had the morning and Lysandra would do the afternoon. 

There was about an hour between performances and Aelin had just finished shedding her tail along with all her other mermaid accessories. She was only dressed in her swimmers and was on her way to the showers when Lysandra walked into the dressing room. 

“Hello, hello,” she greeted brightly. 

“Hey,” Aelin replied, pulling out her clothes to make sure she had everything she needed. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d accidentally left her underwear on the bed.

“Isn’t that the sweatshirt Mr Hot ‘n Loaded lent you?” Lysandra said, sighting the jumper that had just been unloaded from the bag and flicking the cuff.

”Maybe.” It was all Aelin was willing to admit, and quickly stuffed it out of sight, diverting the conversation away from it. “Speaking of, I could have died.”

Despite the seriousness of the words, Lysandra laughed. “You were not dying. We’ve been over this. And you had a far better saviour than me, let it go.”

“Not the point,” Aelin deflected, “and you know I know how to hold a grudge.”

“You’re just jealous,” Lysandra said with a casual shrug and a self satisfied smile. 

Aelin huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “I’m very proud of you for taking the opportunity of casual sex in a bathroom.”

“It was a bedroom, actually,” Lysandra corrected. “Apparently there’s at least three guest rooms.”

“Semantics. What I’m saying is that there is a time and a place, and that was neither.”

Lysandra dropped her bag onto the chair in front of the vanity mirror. “The way I see it, thanks to my little escapade with that very handsome blond you were able to get your own dose of flirting in, you just aren’t game enough to do anything about it.”

Right, because when Rowan had undressed Aelin in that pool room, desperately trying not to look, and really except for one teasing line she had missed her opportunity. She had been too cold and frazzled to take advantage of the situation. Aelin could feel herself blushing even though she hadn’t been shy in the moment. Maybe it had been because of the onset of hypothermia or maybe it was because she had found Rowan’s own embarrassment so entertaining, either way the pink in her cheeks was damning right now.

”I have no idea what you're talking about,” Aelin tried to bluff, even though on the drive home while yelling I could have died every five minutes, she had gone into heavy detail about what had occurred. Right down to how soft Rowan’s fingers had felt as they brushed over her skin. 

“Yeah, huh. You still have his number, right? Call him, text him,” Lysandra pulled her tail from the wardrobe. “Do something about it.”

For good measure Lysandra flicked the centre of Aelin’s forehead, like that would banish the remains of the hesitancy swirling around in her brain. Swatting the hand away and hissing, Aelin scowled after her friend disappeared into one of the cubicles to start getting ready. 

What Aelin couldn’t figure out was why she was hesitating. It was clear there was mutual attraction ignoring the lack of tact Rowan seemed to have when interacting with her. She had busted him checking her out more than once. And it seemed like he was a decent guy when he wasn’t accidentally propositioning her for shifty sounding private events.

On the other hand, there was a vibe that Aelin had got from the woman she assumed was Ivy’s mother. She had never addressed Aelin directly but there was a definite feeling that she wasn’t happy with a mermaid being in attendance. Rowan had been very clear that he was divorced, so that came with the implications that his ex-wife wasn’t entirely in his life. There was obviously some kind of coparenting situation going on but Aelin didn’t know much more than that. There was so much falling into the unknown category, and there was only one way to fix that and find out. 

Aelin grabbed her bag and left the dressing room. She didn’t need Lysandra hovering and goading her into action. When she got to her car Aelin dug out her phone from where she’d thrown it into her bag and scrolled to the message thread with Rowan. She just needed some kind of opening, something casual to test the waters. The cuff of the borrowed jumper slid over her hand, almost swallowing the phone. Since the party it had lived in her car and she had worn it more than once. It was insanely comfortable and had that nice male kind of smell about it. And it was her ticket. 

Going off their previous conversations, Rowan didn’t seem like much of a texter, so Aelin took the plunge and hit the call button instead. It rang for longer than she expected, and then she realised he was most likely at work, working a real job with real hours. Aelin blushed again and was about to hang up when it connected.

”Rowan Whitethorn speaking,” his tone professional.

”Hi, this is Aelin Galathynius, mermaid extraordinaire,” Aelin said, hoping her quickly summoned bravado covered her nerves. 

“Aelin, hi,” his tone immediately dropped into something more casual. “What can I do for you? Did the money not go through?”

”No, no that’s all fine,” Aelin replied. “You were more than generous.”

”You went above and beyond. Ivy had the time of her life.” She could swear there was a smile in his voice.

”I’m glad.”

Aelin was leaning on the car, fiddling with the too long sleeve on her free hand. She was grinning as well, pleased with herself for doing such a good job.

“I don’t mean to be rude or rush you, but I’m in between meetings,” Rowan said, breaking into her thoughts.

”Oh, yes!” Aelin blurted. “I wanted to return your jumper and maybe say thank you for helping me not freeze to death after I was left for dead by my friend.”

Rowan chuckled and Aelin ignored how it skittered over her skin. 

“What did you have in mind?” He asked.

Aelin’s confidence had returned and she went for it. ”Dinner, Saturday,”

“Just give me one second,” Rowan said and there was some clicking in the background. “I don’t have Ivy, this weekend. She’ll be sad to miss you.”

And he’d gone and missed the point by a mile. “I meant just you and me, Rowan. Like a date.”

There was a heavy beat of silence, then Rowan laughed again, this one astounding significantly more self deprecating. “You should see how red my face is right now.”

”I’m sure I can imagine.” Aelin had already had the privilege of seeing it before and could picture it perfectly. 

“That sounds wonderful, Aelin. We’ll text and work out a time?” 

”Sounds great,” Aelin said, nodding even though Rowan couldn’t see.

“Bye, then.”

”See ya, Rowan,” Aelin replied and hung up the phone. 

For a moment she stood there, smiling, proud of herself for getting a date so smoothly. The whole misunderstanding of Ivy being there would be forgotten and never spoken of again. This was a triumph and Aelin was ready to celebrate, which would start with some polite bragging. 

>> I got that date you were bugging me about. Now you have to help me figure out what to wear.

When Lysandra sent back an emoji of a smiling devil Aelin knew they were about to cause some havoc and Rowan would be their target. 

~~~~~

I already have Aelin's outfit planned and she'd gonna wreck him

[respectthepetty]

Tattoos in BLs

Dean [Until We Meet Again & Between Us] - I do not remember seeing this, but I have the picture, so it must've happened. It’s a compass on his hip because he was lost without Phram and always looking for direction.

Win [Until We Meet Again & Between Us] – We will hopefully find out something next month when the series begins, but even if we don’t, we can still appreciate that these are henna including those angel wings.

Jang JaeYoung [Semantic Error] - Does it have meaning? As he stated in the series, “Not really. I just liked it” but I'm seeing an eclipse thanks to Ayan's hoodie.

Chu SangWoo [Semantic Error] – Hand drawn by JaeYoung, and it is the first image JaeYoung ever drew for him when they first met in the episode one.  

Black/White [Not Me] – White had to get it because Black had it, and Black had it because..no idea, but it could symbolize death or strength.

Yok [Not Me] – Mandarin on the flank means mom, but the birds and the forearm one, no idea.

Tonhon [Tonhon Chonlatee] – “An anchor is what a navigator or sailor uses to hold his vessel to the ocean. Tonhon means a navigator. That’s why I had this anchor tattooed on my left chest to remind me that my heart will not drift away. It will be with the ocean and that is your name, Chonlatee, forever. Every time I look at it, it reminds me that I have you in my heart all the time.”

Kamol [Unforgotten Night] – I didn’t watch this, so I’m guessing that it was because he had pet tigers, and I'm fine believing that.

Mangkorn [Big Dragon] – Mangkorn means dragon, and he is the dragon (Yang) to Yai’s tiger (Yin).

Porsche [KinnPorsche] – A phoenix because that was his underground fighting alias, fire is his friend (he gets the fire started in the woods, he starts a fire in his first week on the job, he smokes), his mom used to tell him stories about the phoenix rising from the ashes, his color in the series is yellow, and he is the phoenix/fire (Yang) to Kinn’s tortoise/water personality (Yin - he's like his mom).

Pete [KinnPorsche] – “No legacy is so rich as honesty” is from Shakespeare’s comedy All’s Well That Ends Well, which is about a woman of lower rank trying to marry the man she loves who is of a higher rank. The quote shows not only to live an honest life (in a play full of dishonesty), but to be honest with oneself, something that Pete does in the end when…you know.

Ram [My Engineer] – Has a dream catcher on his neck to chase away bad dreams, a wolf on his arm, a tribal turtle on his shoulder, and a few others.

Forth [2 Moons 2] – Actor’s actual tattoo. Might be a Sak Yant tattoo for good fortune.

Sarawat [2gether] – Actor’s actual tattoo. I think it was something about remembering who you are.

Gene [Lovely Writer] - Actor's actual tattoo. A family portrait. Thanks @calipigio

Phupha [A Tale of Thousand Stars] - Actor's actual tattoo. It now has a quote above it. He also has two thigh tattoos ("Be somebody nobody thought you could be" and "Every sunset is an opportunity to reset"), "PEACE" on his bicep, and an upper back tattoo. *whispers "I love him"* Thanks @veemark

Ai [Ai Long Nhai] – Actor's actual tattoo. A crescent moon. Thanks @mushiemadarame for letting me know it's his.

Ayan [The Eclipse] – Actor’s actual tattoos. The thigh one is a G-Dragon lyric telling his mother not to worry about him. Hip tattoo is "beautiful" (seen in Only Friends) *A little salty about the hip one*

[absolutebl]

Leaving GMMTV aside, what were youre favorite shows this year so far? I'll have more free time coming up and im way behind and out of the loop, so some recs would be appriacted, wise sage. Especially for those shows that didnt get the attention they deserved in your opinion! Thanks a lot!

Top 10 BLs of 2023 So Far

Our Dating Sim

(Korea) 10/10 Viki

If you haven't watched this, it's a must. I actually handed out a 10/10. I NEVER do that. It's a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent. Full review here.

My School President

(Thai) 9/10 YouTube

GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Yes, we’ve seen it all before, but I still ADORED this. And there is a lot to be said for the classics being re-executed perfectly. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny? This show was fantastic, it’s only flaw was the singing (and that’s my baggage). My favourite GMMTV BL offering to date. And yes, I've watched them ALL.

(you said no GMMTV but I have to include it)

The Eighth Sense

(Korea) 9/10 Viki

One of the longest BLs Korea has given us and (like Blueming) it feels more atmospheric gay coming of age romance than strictly BL. It’s got a bit of an age gap, country boy/city boy, stellar acting, complex characters, and leads with great chemistry and tension. It’s a bit chewy and sticky and less perfect than most KBLs (do I detect a touch of Taiwan?) This one deployed BL tropes (messy eater, shoulder sleep, protective seme, there’s even some hyung-slinging) but front loaded them with painful backstory and tons angst drives the 2nd half. This isn’t in the KBL bubble, there’s sharp edges and lots of triggers. For a BL the darkness of the content left me feeling unsettled (which is the only reason it didn't get a perfect score) but it does have a glorious ending and that counts for a lot.

The New Employee

(Korea) 9/10 Viki

So good, SO QUEER, so soft, a near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also found family and a lesbian bestie. Sweet & innocent (and out) Seung Hyun scores the office internship of his dreams. On his first day at work he gets into it with his cool reserved (and also v gay) boss. As you do. Frankly? This is what I wanted from this new crop of office set KBLs ALL ALONG. Rainbow rice cakes forever! Directed by queer activist Kim Jho Gwang Soo (Just Friends?) partly set in the same neighbourhood as the To My Star house. Gotta love WATCHA (Semantic Error, Light on Me).

Unintentional Love Story

(Korea) 9/10 iQIYI

A boy who just lost his job due to faked corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). I’m not sure on rewatchability, and it didn’t whip me into a verbal frenzy the way some KBLs do, but it still gets a solid 9/10 for those damn eyes alone.

Destiny Seeker

(Thai) 8/10 grey

A darn near perfect pulp featuring 3 likeable tsundere/sunshine pairings with uncomplicated iterations of enemies to lovers. At least one half of each does a decent amount of pining and there’s good chemistry, classic tropes, and communication rep. It’s fun and full of linguistic jokes. Sublimely cheesy but a good rainy day offering with tons of rewatch potential. Full review here.

Make a Wish

(Thai) 8/10

PNR (from Sammon - Manner of Death & Triage) about a doctor who can see the dead and strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love. Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not-Ohm, but who cares bc Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but v. satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay af, fag hag bestie and everything. The cast is excellent but the comedic stylings are too overblown and tonally off. It had sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency.

All the Liquors

(Korea) 8/10 Viki & Gaga

A pretty classic foodie set KBL that managed to distinguish itself from others in this category by having a particularly satisfying final episode centered around found family. Sunshine sweetie soju rep gets involved with a shy introvert chef who doesn’t drink. This has a somewhat uneven plot and ridiculous central conceit (much in the way of Tasty Florida or Behind Cut), but if you are looking for a restaurant BL with Korea’s signature softness, then this is a great option. FYI I may identify with our baby party boy hedonist more than any other BL lead ever presented.

Love Mate

(Korea) 8/10 Viki

Features a very much openly gay older uke with commitment issues and a romantic (if arrogant) younger seme with no respect for boundaries (hyung romance). Workplace harassment much? That’s BL for ya. (Also a nonBL Kdrama specialty.) So yeah it’s questionable, but so is my taste. The ultimate premise that someone badly hurt shuts themself off to romance is very similar to Happy Merry Ending or 8th Sense but this version was more about fear than abuse or trauma. For me, this made Love Mate more relatable. However, because the denouement was driven by a late addition faen fatal, the conclusion felt rushed and forced. I can, however, see myself rewatching this one, so it falls into the general rank of 2023′s KBL aka solid high standard and eminently watchable.

Bed Friend

(Thai YouTube, Gaga, iQIYI)

Office frienamies transition a flaming hot one night stand into a f-buddy relationship that is built on a puppy/cat dynamic (and kinks into it at one point). Our puppy is loyal, smitten, and protective with endlessly longing eyes, while our cat is snarky, prickly, and deeply damaged (ALL THE TRIGGERS). NetJames give lovely high-heat with excellent chemistry and tuned-in performances of surprising depth, unfortunately the story ultimately failed them. Had the show had the strength of its convictions and kept to a tighter, darker, harsher 8 eps it would have been the first high heat to earn a 10/10 from me, but once they fussed with it, it dropped to a solid 8/10. Could have been great but was overworked. Still if high heat is your thing, this one will not let you down. Full review here. (Triggers include: child abuse, attempted rape, family abuse)

(3x! 3x Tumblr ate this post. They HAVE to de bug their new editor. This never happens with the old one. Biggest bug is with the "undo" function, DO something about it!)

[tiny-pun]

Angel child, devil parent

Underrated trope: I absolutely loathe you but your kid is genuinely an angel/ but you make my usually distrusting child smile so I’ll tolerate you.

This could include

Possible jobs for A: kindergartener, baker, ice cream vendor, barista, librarian, bus driver, doctor etc.

Both of them acting all kind and polite in front of the child with underhanded jibs and sarcastic comments towards each other if the kid is around

Both Voices going higher at least 2 octaves around the child.

Whisper yelling at each other when the kid is distracted/a few meters away

“How the hell did you manage to raise an actual angel when you’re literally a satan himself?!?” “News flash: the devil was an angel himself!”

“You so clearly take after your other parent, sweetheart.”, with a shit eating grin towards the parent.

“ I will never understand how you tricked, no bewitched, my sweet child like that. The moment I find out we! Are! OUT OF HERE!!” “ Oh I just have that effect on genuinely good and nice people like that. You wouldn’t understand.” “Fuck you!” “Oh no! Such horrible language! Truly a terrible parent! That poor child! I’m gonna pray for them!” “You’re not even religious!?”

‘Oh no when did I learn the ins and outs of their daily life ?!?’

“Oh sweetie, you can’t just invite someone over without telling me. And theyre a very busy person and we wouldn’t want to interfere with-“ “No it’s fine! I have time!” Through gritted teeth:”We really wouldn’t want you to come all this way, just for us.” “It’s fine! I’ll come by at 12!”

“Hey this is me by the way!” “How the fuck did you get my number ?!?” “Your sweet child gave it to me!” “And you dickhead just took it ?!?! Why the hell would you even need it, asshole ?!?” “Again with those words in front of a child. Tsktsktsk” “We’re on the phone, dumbass.” “And you’re on speaker. Say hello to your parent, sweetie!” “Hello!” “H-Hey sweetie! Oh god.”

“Don’t teach my child such language!” “I think they’re learning worse from you actually.”

“I’m so sorry I know this is so last minute and it’s your off day/ Friday night but could you please look after my child?“ “sure!” “What?!? Just like that ?!? I was gonna do a whole speech about how I have an important event to go to and my usual babysitter just got sick and I don’t know who else to call and I yell at you most of the time we talk but I know you would never hurt my child- and !” “It’s truly fine! Even if I had something to do I know you wouldn’t resort to me if you had literally any other option so it must be an emergency. And also your child is an actual Angel, why wouldn’t I want to spent some time with them?!?.” “Oh god that you!I’ll owe you! Anything you want! ”

“Soo, you trust me?” “Bitch, That’s not what I said at all. I trust you with my kid. Nothing more.” “Semantics, sweetheart!”

Also the good old “oh shit did your/my child just trick us into having a date with one another ?”

Feel free to add!

[mamawasatesttube]

For the fic prompts: 52) “I Wouldn’t Change A Thing About You” with the Souperfam? Thinking about them again (<- Guy who’s always thinking about them)

👉🏾🥺👈🏾

“—in the originals, there were actually five different guys playing Darth Vader! They had the main guy who played him in the full suit, David Prowse, and then his stunt double for a lotta the fight scenes, Bob Anderson, but then his voice was James Earl Jones, obvie. But James didn’t do the breathing! That was another dude named Ben Burtt.”

Across the table, Kon pauses to suck at his milkshake. Kara swings her legs back and forth before hooking her heels back onto the bar on her barstool, humming. He was right; this place has really good fries. And the burgers are solid, too.

“That’s only four guys, though,” she says, counting them off on her salty fingers. “David, Bob, James, and Ben.”

“Yeah! I’m getting there.” Kon grins. He dips one of his fries into the pink swirl of his milkshake (strawberry, because he says he likes everything fruity). Kara wrinkles her nose. That still seems weird to her. But Kon pops it into his mouth, chews, swallows, and continues: “The last guy is Sebastian Shaw. Who was only Vader in two scenes! Although technically you could argue he was never Vader and was only Anakin, if the semantics of that mean anything to you.”

Kara has seen these movies a grand total of once. Very recently. As in, Kon got her to agree to watch all of them this weekend. As in, they finished watching Return of the Jedi about ten minutes before they came here for a late lunch.

“They do not,” she assures.

To her surprise, though, Kon deflates a little. “Oh.” He drops his gaze to the fries left in his basket, then looks up again with a grin that doesn’t seem quite as genuine. “Right, yeah, I’ve been rambling for a while, haven’t I? It’s probably gotta get boring to anyone who doesn’t have these movies literally uploaded into their brain.”

He laughs, but Kara doesn’t join in. She frowns. “I wasn’t telling you to stop,” she objects, and lightly kicks him under the table to accent it. “I was just saying the semantics don’t mean anything to me!” Another kick.

“Stop kicking me,” he pouts, so naturally, she kicks him again. “Linda!”

This time, when her foot connects with his jeans, it freezes in place. Kara gasps, then glares at him. She could probably pull free of his telekinetic grip, but that’d definitely take superstrength, and this diner might not look too kindly on a potential hole in the ceiling. “Let go!”

“Only if you stop kicking me!”

“Then stop pouting and keep telling me movie trivia!”

“You don’t have to say that if you’re getting bored!” Kon huffs. His glasses do nothing to hide the flush on his cheeks. “I know I get rambly sometimes. Blame Cadmus, they’re the ones who made me so good at being annoying.”

He grins again, but Kara’s not buying it. He’s not very slick about hiding that this is an insecurity, is he? He probably thinks he’s being slick. He’s not. It’s endearing.

“I don’t think you’re annoying,” she says honestly. “I like that you get enthusiastic about stuff. I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

And then, because that’s embarrassingly earnest to say to her cousin while they’re in public, she has to follow it up properly, before she starts blushing too. Lightning-quick, she swipes a finger through his milkshake and dabs a dollop onto the tip of his nose. Ha!

Kon squawks. “Linda!” he protests, face even redder. He scrubs his hand over his nose, then licks the melting milkshake from his palm. “Jeez!”

Kara grins at him. “Your move, Conner.” As a concession, she dips one of her fries into her milkshake (simple and plain vanilla), then pops it into her mouth.

Kon huffs at her and makes a big show of rolling his eyes and scrubbing his face with a napkin. “Uncivilized,” he sniffs. But the telltale soft look in his eyes tells her she’s won, even before he opens his mouth. “Anywhoozies. So after the release of the prequel trilogy, George Lucas decided they needed to do some continuity edits on the originals, and there was a rerelease, and…”

[soullessjack]

Full disclosure I am not the previous anon but building off of their message: I'm saying this with all due respect. Not accusing you of abuse apologia for your opinions on a fictional character, but I honestly feel like you have a strange bar for what constitutes an abuser. I strongly disagree that abusers don't regret their actions. An abuser can 100% show regret or remorse for what they did, they can show genuine love and affection to the people they victimize and still be an abuser. Dean is obviously not a black and white villainous caricature, but very rarely in real cases are abusers black and white villainous caricatures. We tend to single out Dean when dissecting the family dynamics because his abuse was the most extreme but all of them, Sam, Dean, and Castiel, are a murder cult who groom Jack into their line of business. So I don't really see the point in the semantics game.

1. that’s a fair point! I just think there’s some distinction between being abusive and being a straight-up abuser, if not distinctive connotations for those terms. I’m also not trying to be apologetic about Dean’s behavior more so than I’m just trying to explain it and make it more understandable than a surface level viewing of him.

2. agree again! nobody is completely black and white and that’s always been a consistent theme (alongside free will and family) within the show, as well as the choice to be a better person, so it’s very confusing to me when fandom discourse is all semantical about who’s worse or who’s better. your favs are wanted by the FBI and violated the Geneva Conventions numerous times, but they still try to do the right thing where it counts.

3. actually I think dumbing down TFW’s dynamic with jack as a “murder cult who groomed him into their line of business” is playing right into the semantics game and the villainous caricature.

for one, hunting just is not a cult. please can we not turn cult into the next internet buzzword. it’s a lifestyle that almost nobody involved actively enjoys living (Gordon and the other dude from Black Rock are outliers) because it’s nothing but trauma and loss and violence constantly, but for one reason or another it’s incredibly difficult to leave, or even compromise with a somewhat normal life. even Dean views it as a death sentence, and the violence he regularly commits within it only ever added to his low self worth as he considers himself a designated “grunt.” even in the later seasons when it’s framed more casually or comedically, the violence and murder of hunting is still ultimately a bleak and begrudging necessity; grunt work for the grunts. to say it’s a “murder cult” is just wrong and, well, a little cartoonish if I’m being fr.

second, jack wasn’t ‘groomed’ into being a hunter/murderer. I swear takes like these make me question what show everyone else is watching ,I’m sorry. he’s literally a born-adult supernatural creature with a heritage and birth circumstance that’s been intertwined with the lives of all three of his chosen fathers since before they all existed and cosmically dangerous powers. there is no way he could ever be normal or have a life outside of hunting (or one that lasts, at least). and considering what we know from his first death now, he probably would’ve just died as a normal baby if Cas had removed his grace. Yes, TFW has some major dysfunctions in their parenting with Jack and it’s absolutely worth talking about, but they still make an effort to be good father figures for him, even with fathers that frankly set them up for failure in that regard. to say they’re all groomers is, to put it mildly, insane and ridiculous

[mjuuuk]

thoughts about the S3 ending!!!! a whole lot of thoughts, actually. (spoilers + analysis under the cut. i also kindly offer you a cup of tea and a seat because it got a bit long)

my take on the ending (and especially the dancing scene, my beloved) after crying and pondering about it a lot, is that it's almost a sort of semantic vacuum. did Gedeon die? yes. no. perhaps. did he even exist? it's everything but also nothing and vice versa, and completely up to the viewer.

i feel what is most important regarding that ambiguity is actually the song choice, so i'll digress a little. we know Gedeon’s favourite singer is Wolfgang Ambros, who is a 70's/80's austrian indie songwriter (having a dad who is the same all i can say is you horrible nerd. affectionately.), and a lot of scenes throughout the show were accompanied by situation-suitable songs by the artist. a lot of them are famous for being very ambiguously written, and often can be interpreted on several layers.

I drah zua / I’m closing aka the song in the scene fits this as well. On surface level the lyrics tell about the protagonist leaving a round of cards because he's made to participate but secretly doesn't want to; so he leaves, and looks forward to have his own freedom, play his own games. The song has been interpreted as being about leaving a societal structure, leaving a toxic workplace or relationship, moving towns or taking your own life because it's the only autonomy you have left. there's not one way of reading it, but what the song does convey is relief to leave something behind and anticipation for what is to come. that being said, i think if they wanted the ending to be distinctly conclusive, they'd chosen a different song (there's a few very clearly about death, like the one used during Yela's murder).

my friend, mum and i saw the same scene, but interpreted it vastly different in the end, and it's really beautiful because all of them somehow work.

personally, I have a decidedly weak heart and can/want to see it as a scenario in which Gedeon survived and they say goodbye to their destructive careers. for my friend on the other hand it was as a last goodbye of Gedeon's consciousness. my mum saw it as both Ellie and Gedeon dying, and meeting again in the afterlife. i'd argue it could also just be the entire show dissolving and bidding farewell to itself.

when I first watched it, i actually 100% expected it to be a symbolic but conclusive last meeting/afterlife scene as well - with Ellie coming in, them smiling to each other a last time and then him get up and leaving the café (or life) for good. But he… didn’t?

The café in the scene seems to fit the cinematic trope of the afterlife antechamber, as a familiar but eerily empty space fitting around the protagonist's spirits, like a place in a memory. And it does, somehow. But then again, it also doesn’t. Ellie and Gedeon the focus, but then you notice they’re not the only ones occupying the space. There’s other people, watching them dance, reading their newspaper, walking or driving by outside. It's not only their souls. As if it’s just a regular morning, and not some empty place in the afterlife.

It's as if they took certain tropes but twisted them just enough to allow some final ambiguity. We see Gedeon being revived, but not if it worked. We see Ellie at the pond, considering to throw the dice, but not if she does. We see Polt being freed, but still don't know if his whole folktale is true.

tl;dr: i think however one took the ending, it's probably not wrong at all

[jmagnabo92]

WIP Wednesday

@royallybigbangrwrb

Sailing to Freedom Snippet

“We’ll be docking in Lisbon by noon,” Henry says as he joins Alex for breakfast.  “I had the idea that we could just explore the city on our own, but I suppose I should ask you if there were any ideas of things you’d like to see?”

Alex smiles and kisses his cheek.  “This is your adventure, I’m just along for the ride.”

“Funny, I seem to remember that it was your idea.”

“Just ‘cause it was my idea doesn’t mean that it’s not your adventure.”

“Well, I’ve decided it’s our adventure, and if there’s anything you’d like to see…”

“I’m good,” Alex assures him.  “I just wanna be with you.  It doesn’t matter what we do or see, just you and me together.”

“And you say you can’t match me for prose,” Henry teases.  

Alex laughs.  “My lists are definitely better for me than trying to be all sappy and romantic.”

“I don’t know about that,” Henry says, mirth evident in his eyes.  “There’s something horribly sappy and romantic about number seventeen on your list.”

It takes a second for Alex to remember 17. Your equally huge dick and burst out laughing.  “Yes, talking about your dick is always sappy and romantic.”

Cash, who’d been having his own breakfast alongside one of Henry’s PPOs, spits out his coffee.  He’s coughing as the PPO knocks him on the back.  

They’re both laughing when Cash stops coughing.  “At breakfast, really?”

“You can’t really be surprised, Cash.”

“Why not?”

“Because you once guarded a bathroom door at karaoke bar so I could blow him,” Alex retorts, not even bothering to blush.  Cash knows way too much about his love life to be remotely surprised by Alex’s … bluntness about sex.  Especially sex with Henry.

Cash hums.  “Not at the breakfast table, kay?”

“Fair enough, but Henry started it.”

“I alluded you to it, you’re the one actually said it,” Henry refutes.

“Alluding to it is still starting it,” Alex counters and before he knows it, they are arguing semantics of which one of them really started talking about sex at the breakfast table.  

It takes very little time before their breakfast is abandoned and they’re kissing.  

They get lost in each other’s lips for who knows how long until Cash coughs and says, “Not at the table, please.”

They break apart, flushing slightly.  “Right, we should –” go to our room. 

Henry nods.  “Yeah, we should.”

They both get up to rush to their room mindful of the laughing Cash yelling, “Have fun!”

And they most certainly will.

No Pressure tags @accol-fics @iboatedhere @thesleepyskipper@fullsunsets

[slashmagpie]

Look, Grian knows what the other hermits are saying, and he’s here to set the record straight: this is not his fault. Sure, the Rift was under his base, and it was his ominous robot son from another dimension that sent them all through it, but Grian can hardly be blamed for the actions of things that are not him. And Grian didn’t do this! He didn’t personally drag them all across the multiverse and to some strange world none of them have heard of before. 

…At least, that was very firmly the line he’d stuck to, until he’d encountered Tim.

Not that Grian is disappointed to have encountered Tim. In fact, he’s pretty ecstatic, all things considered, because messing with Jimmy is always a great time. But it does make him reconsider that this has nothing to do with him, because, well.

What are the odds that when stepping through the portal they would just so happen to end up in the world where the guy who Grian’s been haunting for multiple lifetimes—his entire existence, really—lives?

The chaos of the first day comes to a close, and Grian still has no idea where most of the hermits are, and it’s just him and Impulse on the top of the hill they’ve claimed as their own. Impulse is snoring softly, having fallen asleep the moment he’d gotten into his newly-crafted bed, but Grian isn’t too surprised, because he’s fairly certain Impulse has been high all afternoon. Not that he knows how or why Impulse had gotten high shortly after arriving in a new and unfamiliar world, but hey. Each to their own. Grian’s certainly coped with stupider things in worse ways.

He’s about to kick off his boots and lie down in his own bed—because even though he hasn’t been high all afternoon, it’d been 8PM when they left Hermitcraft and about 10AM when they’d arrived on Empires and he’s approaching the edge of exhausted—when his communicator vibrates. He sighs, pulling it out, and sure enough, the message is from exactly who he’d expected it to be from.

Solidarity whispered to you: we need to talk. NOW.

You whispered to Solidarity: I was actually just about to sleep so I’ll see you soon ;)

Solidarity whispered to you: IN PERSON. 

Grian sighs again and considers arguing the semantics of it, but changes his mind. The sooner he gets this over with, the sooner he can actually sleep. 

You whispered to Solidarity: omw

They don’t have a Nether portal atop their hill yet, so Grian grabs a couple rockets and flies over to Tumble Town. The landscape below falls away, hidden by shadow, and soon Grian spots the glow of lights in the mesa, a wooden township amongst the terracotta and sand. He circles in for a landing, and sure enough, Jimmy is there waiting, sitting on the steps of his house. 

“Hello, Tim,” he greets brightly.

“Grian.” Jimmy sounds exhausted, deep shadows beneath his eyes. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“You know what.” Jimmy looks at him, one eyebrow raised.

Grian groans. “Fine, fine.” He flops down on the steps beside Jimmy. “So? What’s up?”

“Why are you here.” It’s a question, arguably, but Jimmy’s voice is flat. An order, then. 

“We walked through the Rift and it closed behind us and now we’re stuck here,” he explains. “You know this, Tim.”

“Sure, that’s why the others are here,” Jimmy says. “Why are you here?”

“I just told you!” Grian’s voice peaks in frustration, and he just barely avoids throwing his arms up in the air. 

“But there’s got to be more to it,” Jimmy insists. “This is—you brought them here, didn’t you? This is just some—some nefarious plot to mess with me!” 

“Tim. You know me. Do you really think I’m that good at planning?” Grian raises an eyebrow. “As much as I would love for this to be The World’s Best Prank, I’m just as confused by this as you are.”

Jimmy goes quiet for a moment, studying Grian’s face. “You’re telling the truth.”

“Yup. I’m an open book, me. Never told a lie in my life.” Jimmy’s expression turns sour. Grian snorts. “I am telling the truth, though.” 

“So you… have a life,” Jimmy says, contemplative. “You live on… Hermitcraft, is it called? And you have friends.”

“Wow, no need to sound so shocked.” Grian crosses his arms with a huff. “What, did you think I just existed to torment you?”

“...I mean, yeah?” Jimmy says. “I mean—not to be—you’re kind of—” 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Grian rolls his eyes. “I mean—yeah, I did, at one point. A guy got cursed, and the universe needed a demon to torment him, so—poof!—I pop into existence. But, Tim—Tim. It’s been several thousand years. I can’t just spend all my time tormenting you, I’d get bored.” 

“Oh.” Jimmy thinks on that for a moment. “Is it weird that that feels worse?”

Grian bursts out laughing.

“No, no—stop laughing!—it’s just, the guy who was literally made to torment me has more of a social life than I do! How’s that fair?”

Grian’s laughter fades into snickers. “Have you tried removing the stick from your ass? I heard it works wonders.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you.” Jimmy kicks at him and misses. Grian kicks back, half-heartedly, and hits. Jimmy grimaces. Grian doesn’t bother to apologise. Jimmy looks up to the stars above and sighs. “This sucks. Can you all go home already?”

“Trust me, as soon as I no longer have to exist in the same world as you, I’m gone.”

They’re quiet for another long moment. The conversation has probably good and ended at this point; Grian could get up and leave and go back to his hilltop bed and sleep. He doesn’t, though, just sits next to Jimmy and joins him in looking up at the sky. 

It’s weird being in proximity like this: normally Grian just sees him in that strange dream-space, and dreams can never quite capture the real thing. This Jimmy is—well, he’s similar enough to all the other Jimmys. Most reincarnations share similarities with who they were before, even if they’re not quite the same. So Jimmy still has his blonde hair, his brown eyes, the face that is so familiar Grian thinks he could paint it with his eyes closed, but he’s still different in so many ways. He’s made of cloth, for one, felt and stuffing and string and wool, a toy sewn from bullying and belief. Jimmy doesn’t seem to notice, even as he tucks the stuffing back into a hole in his wrist. He believes he isn’t a toy, at least, so maybe for him he isn’t. Grian, despite a previous Jimmy’s paranoid insistence, doesn’t live in the man’s head, so he has no way to know.

There had been a time, once, when Jimmy was first cursed, and Grian first came into existence, where Grian had been genuinely cruel, had preyed upon his fears and weaknesses, made him face the worst parts of himself—but over the years, the joy of that had faded, and Grian had fallen into just being a bit of a menace. Not cruel, but mocking. A nuisance. What Jimmy remembers of his past lives is always variable, but this one seems exhausted by Grian, but not genuinely afraid of him. 

If it weren’t Tim, Grian would say they were even kind of friends this time around. He’d even maybe say it was nice. If it weren’t Tim, of course. 

“Hey,” Jimmy says, breaking the silence. “Since you’re, you know, here, and you have access to me literally all the time, do you think you could stay out of my dreams tonight?”

“You know I don’t have control over that,” Grian points out.

Jimmy blinks. “You don’t?”

“As much fun as we have, believe it or not, I often have better things to do than torment you. Like actually sleep for once in my life.” 

“Oh. Still, though. Can you try? I just… I could really do with a good night’s sleep.”

He does look tired. About as tired as Grian feels, actually, heaviness weighing down his bones. “Fine,” he sighs. “I’ll try.”

“Great.” Jimmy pushes himself to his feet. “Well, I’m going to bed. Do you—I mean—do you want to stay the night?”

Grian considers it—he really isn’t in the mood to fly all the way back to spawn tonight. He almost says yes, only to remember that Impulse is expecting him to be there when he wakes up in the morning, and Impulse is also probably high and may not even remember what happened today, and Grian doesn’t want to leave his friend confused and alone in a strange place.

“No, I’ll head back,” he says, fighting back a yawn as he grabs his rockets. “Thanks for the offer, though.”

Jimmy nods. “Use the nether portal,” he advises. “You’re up near spawn, right? Exit through Pix’s, it’s nearby.”

Grian nods. “Thanks. Goodnight, Tim.”

“Goodnight, Grian. I really hope I don’t see you later.”

“You and me both, Tim, you and me both.” 

[immeasurablesaladagere]

can u make one where little House is transmasc and gets rly dysphoric while little (maybe cuz he got his period?) and cg Wilson comforting n reassuring him

Hi, here you go! Sorry this took so long and isn't a super big fic, I rewrote it multiple times and couldn't get it quite how I wanted it haha. It gave me a challenge in a good way, so I hope it turned out well!

Also kinda struck a chord because I'm questioning myself and always get more dysphoric(?) when I'm regressed.

-----

Word Count: 549

Summery: House is regressed, on his period, and has a very big question for Wilson. Hooray!

-----

“Wilson?”

Wilson looked up from his book. House was lying on the couch upside-down, watching SpongeBob’s latest adventure with a blank expression. His hot water bottle had long cooled off by now and he was lazily slapping it against the carpet.

“Yeah, buddy? Do you want your water bottle warmed up again?”

The slapping stopped. “Why can’t I be an actual boy?”

Oh boy, what a question for ten in the morning. “You are an actual boy, House.” He said, hoping for the slim chance that he could get away with simple assurances this time instead of talking about the semantics of society’s relationship with gender with a seven-year-old.

But of course, he was talking about House here and even while regressed he wasn’t fooled by platitudes. He needed answers. Complicated, oh so complicated answers. “No, I’m not. Real boys don’t have periods ‘cause they don’t have a uterus. Only girls have a uterus.”

Wilson sighed and bookmarked his page, knowing he wouldn’t be picking his book back up again any time soon, and moved to sit next to him on the couch. He probably should have expected this. House’s dysphoria always reared its head when he was regressed, or maybe he just lost his inhibitions about hiding it, and House had been quiet after he had changed pants and shamefully asked for a hot water bottle for his cramps after breakfast. 

“Well that’s not always true. Do you remember that man you treated a few months ago? How he was born with both boy parts and girl parts? He was still a boy, wasn’t he?”

The man had come into the clinic with severe abdominal pain, and after the usual battery of tests came up with nothing, House had taken interest. It turned out that the man was born intersex, with a blind uterus that had gone unnoticed until an ovarian cyst ruptured. One hysterectomy later and he was able to go on his way.

House wriggled himself upright and toyed with the seal around the plug of the water bottle. He didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, but it’s different. He had the boy parts too, I don’t.”

“Sure. But if he had both parts, how did he know he was a boy?”

House stopped fidgeting, and Wilson could almost see as the gears turned in his head and he came to an answer. Still, stubbornly, he shrugged and pouted at the floor.

“Because he was a boy in here.” Wilson pointed to House’s forehead, “His brain knew he was a boy, just like yours does, even if he had different body parts, just like you do. That’s what really matters.”

“But…”

Wilson cut him off before he could come up with a new way to put himself down. “And your name is Greg. Would a girl like being named Greg?”

To his relief, that managed to work a small smile out of him. Now that, House couldn’t argue with. 

“Hey, are your cramps feeling better? How about we go get you some ice cream, anything you want.” He offered, and House perked up like he’d said “car ride” to a puppy.

A wide smile came across House’s face. “Anything..?” He asked, in a tone that said you’ll regret this later.

That was future Wilson’s problem, he decided. “Anything.”

[dez-wade]

I’m trying really hard not to like get genuinely upset or pissed off by this and I kind of want to hear someone else’s opinion and you’re always willing to discuss some of the more “negative” aspects of what’s happening which I appreciate! Somebody being upset or frustrated doesn’t give them the right to behave in certain way or say certain things and then just have everyone be like “oh but he’s had a hard few days and he’s frustrated 🥺” bad is a fully grown man. He should be able to handle genuine criticism and for him to sit there and say “no but the words we use are important Tina” all obnoxious when Tina was telling him FOR HIS OWN GOOD to not get all worked up and mixed up in exact definition and terminology that Etoiles was using to describe what happened to him. Etoiles called it a bug. Etoiles is also not a native English speaker yet he CONSTANTLY goes out of his way to speak English to his friends INCLUDING BAD just for bad to be all “well the exact language he uses matters” No it doesn’t. not in this situation it’s doesn’t. Let’s see bad sit and discuss something in French and then be told “well actually the exact wording you use matters so I’m going to just continuously go on and on about why you are in fact wrong because you used one word incorrectly” I’m sorry but he’s trying his best to ACCOMMODATE YOU!!! As someone who’s first language is French it’s just really upset me and I really enjoy bads content so it’s just gotten to me even more than usual

Yeah, it thought he contesting what Etoiles was saying it wasn't the right thing. A lot of times Bad, and most English speakers tbh, think they're on the same level in English which isn't the case.

Forever had trouble with this a lot of time with him, and started speaking Portuguese out of spite in one of their discussions.

Fit, who said "disengage" yesterday and Etoiles didn't understand making these two separate and Etoiles die.

It's not out of malice, but they forget how privileged they are and that people are communicating with them in their second language. Semantics really didn't matter right there. And Tina was right to try to not make him dig himself deeper.

At least he seemed to understand in the end, because it took Tubbo, to explain to him what it was. And he even suggested to report the bug when Tubbo talked about how something similar happened to him and Pac in the toxic gas event, so the admins won't only fix the quicksand one.

I think BBH viewers (I watched BBH a lot, now not so much) are kinda used to when goes in his "explanation" mode and starts using metaphors, analogies, and explains pretty much the same thing like 10x times using different words. So I was not really surprised when he started talking about that. That's just his personality, I guess.

But Bad really should be more conscious when he's talking to people whose first language isn't English and less over-focused on small, irrelevant things.

[intothespiderverseheadthoughts]

Miles: I like personality quizzes in theory but in practice I just get irritated by the semantic ambiguity of literally every question. "On a spectrum from scientific to artistic what are you" motherfucker I literally wax poetic about the laws of thermodynamics where the fuck does that land on your spectrum.

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 Ben Riley: due to personal reasons I will be sitting on my bed in a wet towel and staring at the wall for the next 25 minutes.

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Jess: Your future self is hating you for the poor decisions you're making today.

Gwen: Bold of you to assume current me isn’t also hating myself for making the decisions that I am making.

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Bonnie: Beat your depression. Beat it with a fucking broom, beat it into the fucking ground, die, die, die!

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Hobie: Nobody controls what I do!!! Nobody!  Not even me! I'm out of control but only I control that!

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Pavitr: *watching Margo play a video game* In a game, with no consequences, why are you still playing the 'good' side?

Margo: Because being mean makes me feel bad.

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Ganke: I hate how you're just born out of nowhere and you're forced to go to school and get education so you can get a job what if I wanted to be a duck?

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Miles: I hate when people are actually really prepared for a test.  Like, who do you think you are? Someone who actually has their life together? That is not acceptable

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Bonnie: Earthquakes are the weirdest things. Like we're just floating in space and our planet just decides to spontaneously do the chimichanga.

Miguel: Who let her back in?!

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Spectacular! Peter: Just found out my entire personality is a trauma response.

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Miguel: Peter B. is trying to prove that he's closer to the younger spiders than I am but the joke is on him because he doesn't know how little I care for Gwen.

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Jess: Orbweaver! What’re you doing today?

Bonnie: Having my day ruined with whatever you’re about to ask me to do.

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Peni: do you care if i take the skin off of the furby? I want to make him a diety. once he is free of his sinful flesh he can begin the path towards enlightenment. he will take care of us. Also I want to softhack his circuits

Miles: i literally could not care less but never say anything as frightening as that ever again

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Hobie: Who hurt you?

Gwen: Do you want a list or what?

Hobie loading his gun: Actually, yes.

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Margo: I am shattering like glass, but at least I have video games

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Spot: Hello there, Spiderman. Long time no see. Except in my revenge fantasies, where I see you on an hourly basis.

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Pavitr: Miguel sleeps after us and is awake before us. Does he ever actually sleep?

Spectacular! Peter: I think he periodically makes a whirring noise and then just shuts down.

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Hobie: It's your first time being a fugitive, so I made you a watch.

Gwen: Thank you, Hobie.

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Ben Riley: I'm sorry I messed everything up. I guess I'm not cut out for the high stakes world of having friends.

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Miguel: It was reported to me by—

Miles: By your spies?

Miguel: No, no. Not spies. People I have terrorized into doing my bidding and watching other people and places for me. You pay spies.  

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Pavitr: Remember how I have such good luck that it’s almost bullshit?

Gwen: I’m afraid to ask, but go on.

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Miguel: Bonnie, a question — if Jess and I were drowning, who would you save?

Bonnie: You can both swim.

Miguel: True, but it’s a hypothetical question, so who would you save?

Bonnie: My time and effort.

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Margo: Remember Spiderwomen, before you say or do anything, ask yourself: Is this something that would get me diagnosed with female hysteria and locked in the attic by my relatives in the late 19th century? If the answer is yes, proceed.

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Ham: Hey! How’s it going?

Peni: On all levels except physical, I am dead.

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Miles: Top 30 reasons why Spiderman is sorry, number five will surprise you!

Spot: Top 30 anime deaths! Number one: Your fucking ass right now!

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Bonnie, taping a knife to a roomba and setting it loose: Be free, my child.

Miguel, entering the room with a cut on his ankle: WHO THE FUCK—

[ichigo-dream]

Sick at the Heart

Fic contains: Extremely Dubious consent, strange dynamics (he's your step-"brother" but not really - it'll make sense), and NSFW content.

Don't like, don't read!

This is my first ever multi-chap fic so let me know what you think! I hope you enjoy xoxo

-Ichigo

"You don’t even know what you’re going to do, where you’re going to go, all you can think is run, run, get away, get away-"

When your mum had remarried, you hadn't minded - God knows she deserves to be happy - and honestly it hadn't impacted your life at all.

You didn't even mind how brash and vicious your step-"brother" is - he could actually be quite funny.

But then, you decide to give your mum some space.

You decide a place of your own might be what you want. Somewhere you can enjoy some time alone and grow.

Shame that that's not what Levi wants.

Suddenly, your already fragile dynamic with him shifts and neither of you are likely to recover.

You hadn’t minded when your mum had remarried. You honestly hadn’t. She deserved happiness. And if the man made her happy then by god you would suffer whatever this scenario threw at you. It wasn’t like you were a little kid anymore. You’d had a full-time job for nearly three years now, you were coming into your own, and your mum had clearly felt like she could do something for herself without it disrupting your life.

The changes hadn’t been totally impossible to deal with. Suddenly having a man around the house was easier to adjust to than you had expected. Kenny had been shockingly easy to manoeuvre around when you weren’t in the mood to entertain anyone. 

His son on the other hand… Technically his nephew, but there wasn’t much point getting bogged down in semantics was there? His son, Levi, hadn’t been a huge part of the backdrop of your home due to the fact that he had his own house. His own job. His own life. His uncle getting married bore little consequence on his life in general, but he still made an effort to come over to visit on Saturdays if he could, and always, without fail, appeared for Sunday dinner. 

He was quiet but vulgar when he spoke, scathing in a way that reminded you of your aunt, with a biting tongue and wit that had you oscillating between smirking and holding back tears when you weren’t in the mood for his humour. 

Still, you didn’t hate him. He was actually good company at times. Quite funny once you got to know him. 

Yet, he could be a real cunt when he wanted to be.

Case in point, you had felt that with your mum now being a married woman once more that she would want some space of her own. You’d thought that the conversation with your mum about moving out would be difficult but efficient. And it had been. She had of course told you that you could stay forever if you wanted, she wasn’t looking rid of you, but had understood when you had said you wanted some space of your own. 

All had been going well. Hunky dory if you dared to be optimistic. Of course, at that moment Levi had to make his unwanted opinion known. 

“Are you really sure you want to move out?” He asks, taking a sip from the cup of tea that you’d placed in front of him before you had started this conversation in that odd way that you hadn’t had the nerve to comment on before. You’d hoped he would’ve gotten the message that this was a mother-daughter talk and to leave. But he had sat on. 

“Yeah, I’m just thinking a small flat, nothing too crazy, just a wee place of my own.” You say, happy to at least be able to describe what you were thinking without sounding like an idiot, like you hadn’t researched, like you didn’t know what you were talking about. 

Levi’s brows furrow minutely, and he hums non-committedly 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit of a risk? Young woman living on her own?” Anyone else in the family and you would’ve thought they were just being concerned and overprotective, but Levi always managed to make his concern into an inconvenience just for the fun of it all. 

“Not at all,” you say, smiling at him, ignoring the hard look in his steely eyes, “it’s in a safe enough area, not too far either. Besides, it’s not the 19th Century. A woman can live on her own if she wants to.” The last words hold a bite to them that shocks even you, that shocks even your mum, because she took a sip from her own cup of tea, watching quietly. 

Levi stares you out. You stare back. 

“It’s not a matter of want, it’s a matter of practicality. You’re a young woman with a predictable work schedule, living on your own isn’t the smartest idea in the world. It would be idiotic to put your safety at risk for the sake of your pride.”

“My pride?” You say incredulously. 

“Levi’s right pet, maybe you’d be best looking for flat mates. What about your wee mates from uni? Or ones from work that travel?” Your mum interjects, always placating and defusing like the goddess she is, “Or Levi, you’ve a spare room? You could live with Levi for a while if you wanted some time away.” Your mum looks at Levi expectantly and his face remains unchanged, but he does nod. 

“Of course.”

“Ha!” You laugh, and both of them turn to look at you, Levi boring holes through you, “You were so concerned about a young woman living alone and now look at you! What will the neighbours think when they see a young man and young woman living together when they aren’t married? Or maybe,” You stop, and smirk at him, “I should leave it at a young woman and some man. The young might be pushing it.” 

Your mum chokes on a laugh, and Levi at least smirks at her when she lays a hand on his arm and tells him you’re only joking. Only when she turns away, to speak to your stepfather when he walks in, do you see the look that has fallen over Levi’s face.

Something dark and sharp and you don’t want to look too long, for fear of what you might see. 

You rise from your seat, retreating to your room, but not before telling him, 

“It was nice of you to offer, Levi, but really, I’ll be grand, you worry too much!” 

You feel his eyes burn into your back the whole way up the stairs. 

~

After the ordeal as you’re now referring to it as, you hadn’t given any more thought to Levi at all. Even at dinner, you had ignored his barbs and stony face at every moment, keeping to yourself. 

That night, you slid into bed, comfortable and secure, surrounded by the watchful eyes of cuddly toys, and storybooks that have been well loved and thumbed through over the years, and you drift into sleep peacefully.

The sensation of warm flesh over your mouth has you surging out of sleep. Bucking wildly at the heavy weight on top of you, you scream helplessly into skin, tears springing to your eyes in fear. 

A cool edge at your throat had you stilling and your breath catching in your chest. 

The weight over you settles and you feel hot breath puff over your neck and ear. A whimper leaves your throat at the feeling.

Whoever was on top of you – a man, it is a man, smells like one, sounds like one, feels like one when he grazes against your stomach.  

Your breathing is rapid, sharp little inhales that leave your nerves alight and your body shaking, 

“Shh.” He breathes into your ear, warmth making your skin raise into goosebumps and the rest of you tremble. 

In the darkness, you can see his rough outline, but nothing beyond that. God, is he going to kill you? Or worse? How did he even get in? 

You hear him inhale to speak again and you couldn’t let him get any further. 

Tossing a hand out to your bedside table, your fingers met the chilled glass of water that you had brought to bed. 

With a muffled shout you grasp it and smash it into the side of his face, showering your own in water and glass. 

The man rears back and in the sudden absence you seize the opportunity, raising a knee and sinking it into what you hope are his balls. With the way he gasps and tumbles to the side onto the bed has you thinking you have succeeded. 

Tossing yourself from the bed, you pull your legs free where they’d caught in the duvet, listening to the man grunt and do the same. 

The door is too risky, he’d catch you, and with that singular thought you run to the window, flinging it open and falling out of it. 

The fall isn’t that far. You’d done this before out of curiosity one summer years ago. But on landing, the grass beneath you is soft and slick, wet with dew and the lingering rain from earlier, and you slide forward, chest taking the brunt of your landing. 

Air forced out of you, you lie there gasping desperately, wheezing at being winded, and the chill seeping into you along with the wetness of the grass below. 

Raising yourself onto your side, you try to force yourself up, wheezing still as you turn and look back at the open window. 

Suddenly, the chill beneath you, which had leached through your thin pyjamas, wasn’t even registering against the coldness that fills you, freezing you in your place and catching your breath in your throat. 

In the open window, illuminated by the moonlight, Levi stands watching you. 

You could have believed that he had heard the commotion and come to rescue you, were it not for the blood. It drips from his nose and the side of his mouth, the streaks noticeable even in the night as he stands with his arms planted to the windowsill.

Neither of you move. 

Levi does nothing. Says nothing. He simply watches, looking down at you with those eyes of his again. 

Those tormenting eyes. 

You feel turmoil bubbling inside you. What is he playing at? Why did he do that? Why was he looking at you like that ? 

Levi feints, jerking suddenly, eyes glinting wildly in the moonlight, and the movement has you flinching back, whimpering just once. 

Once was enough, it seems, because Levi is gone. 

Shaking, you feel adrenaline course through you and you twist to haul yourself up to run, panicking when you hear the door opening behind you. 

You don’t even know what you’re going to do, where you’re going to go, all you can think is run, run, get away, get away-

Arms wrap around you and pull you back, holding you like iron as you kick and flail. 

“Get of-“ You start to shout, only for Levi’s hand to once more cover it. He hushes you again, holding fast. No matter how you fought he would not be moved. 

As you feel yourself tiring, Levi begins rocking you, hushing you as you shiver in his arms. 

“You’re freezing.” 

And whose fault is that? You want to snap at him, but you hold your tongue. This is completely unknown territory. This Levi is completely unknown to you, his attitude - or perhaps, his nonchalance - sets your nerves on edge and keeps you quiet. 

Levi sweeps you into his arms, arms securely around you and under your knees. 

You squawk in surprise, looping your arms around his neck to stop yourself from falling. You want to shout at him, swear and curse till you turn blue, but again you keep quiet. You were cold, and running on adrenaline, and Levi was being weird - better to err on the side of caution. 

He carries you back into the house, somehow managing to close the door without it slamming and taking you up the stairs to your room. As he pushes open the door, you survey the damage, the pool of water and shattered glass and the drops of blood doting the pillows. 

At the sight, you cast your gaze up to his face, and this close you can see the rivulets dripping from his nose and his lip, sliding down his neck. Part of you wants to apologise. The other part wants to laugh in his face and tell him he deserves it. Again, you say nothing. 

Levi sits down onto the edge of your bed, still cradling you close to him, and he sweeps an arm across it. A moment after he reaches up and tugs the corner of the bed sheet, pulling it free and tossing it over onto the other side of the bed. 

In the bare space he places you down gently, whilst he takes the moment to lift the pillow and duvet, removing the sheet entirely. Task completed, his hands rest around your hips as he lifts you into the middle of the bed. 

You tremble in his hold, especially when he runs his thumbs up and down, making contact with an exposed slip of skin over your hipbone. 

“Your clothes are wet.” He says softly, ringing in the quiet and you exhale shakily as you nod. The moonlight provides low light so you hope that he can see it. “You need to change. You’ll catch a cold.” His words are straight to the point, clinical, the way he always is when he speaks to you but something about them makes you shake with more than the cold. It had to be the cold, just the chill, and the dew that had soaked your clothes that was making you hyper-focus on how hot his hands were.

Those hands that had been rubbing soothingly and now were wandering to grip delicate fabric. 

“Hol-hold on! Levi!” You chastise him harshly, hissing whispers, as he grips and lifts, pulling your pyjama top up. 

“Lift your arms.” It’s an order if ever you’ve heard one, and it’s only the lingering fear and adrenaline that has you doing so, slapping your hands across your bare chest as he pulls it off of your head. 

“Okay,” you say, shifting when his hands came back down to rest on your hips once more, “you’ve changed me, thanks, now can you get out? I’m too- I can’t process this shit right now.” 

In response, Levi says nothing, steely eyes staring in the moonlight. That same tormenting, wild look that you had seen in the window all more noticeable this close. 

Those hands manoeuvre you once more, and you make a noise of surprise as he pulls you down and when he presses you backwards your head sinks into your pillow. This position has you shifting and once again you say, 

“Levi, please, get ou-“ Levi reaches back and lifts the duvet, pulling it up and over him as he sinks down to his forearms over you, caging you in, claustrophobic in a way. 

When he shifts to fix it around himself, you can’t help but linger on the way his t-shirt brushes against your bare stomach. Your stomach flips when you feel a hot, hard wetness near your inner thighs, and suddenly you were uncertain of what protection your pyjama shorts and his boxers would provide you with. 

You’re tense and flighty under him, all too aware of how much he’s filling the space with his presence, face inches from yours and his body an immovable wall of heat. 

Levi hovers over you in the dark, and against your lips you can feel the hot puffs of his breath. Something hot drips from his face and lands against your cheek, chilling quickly on your skin, and for a second you wonder if he’s drooling before the image of him - feinting, bloody, and feral in your window - fills your head. That fact fills you with realisation and you open your mouth - to swear at him, to chastise him, to beg him to leave - but the second you do he descends on you. 

You should be grateful in a way, when his mouth meets yours, as it stifles the squeal that you let out. 

Levi’s mouth is scalding against you, chilled as you still are, and his tongue presses into you - possessive and devouring, and the sounds of his lips on yours fill the room. 

In your shock, you raise your arms to rest on his shoulders, pushing at his clad skin. The act does nothing to deter him, in fact, as you regrettably realise seconds after, it exposes your bare chest to him, once your arms leave their protective covering. 

It’s a fact that he realises quickly, as he presses down, his chest resting against yours and the sensation of the material against your bare skin has you squirming and thrashing. 

His hand leaves its place by your head and slides between the both of you, cupping your breast and squeezing gently. 

You squeak in surprise and indignation, turning your head away and finally separating yourself from him. You breathe heavily, shuddering and trying to catch your breath. But Levi doesn’t stop; he turns his attention to your neck, laving his tongue across your skin and kissing at your skin. 

“Levi!” You gasp as his teeth dig into the skin between your collarbone and your neck. 

“Don’t be so loud.” He rumbles into your ear, licking at the shell and shaking with laughter when you tremble, “Do you want your mum to hear you? Want her to come in and catch you like this?”

“Fuck you!” You say, gritting your teeth. “You’re the one who should be worried. If she catches you-” 

“Maybe then she’ll realise that you shouldn’t be on your own.” He says, and his words have you putting your panic on pause. 

“What?” He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling deeply before replying.

“I was able to just walk in. You didn’t lock your door, you had no escape plan, hell you didn’t even think to scream for help.”

“I di-” His fingers twist and pinch at your nipple and it makes you choke on your words.

“But that’s okay,” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek just under your eye, “because it’s just me. Not some creep. Just me. You don’t have to be afraid.”

He moves away from your neck, sliding down and you feel his mouth leaving hot open mouthed kisses on your skin. 

It's so much. To feel him everywhere. It makes your breaths come short and tears spring to your eyes. 

You choke on a scream, fingers digging into his shoulders and body, when you feel his fingers slip beneath your pyjamas and press between your legs.  

The noise has him raising his head from your chest, pressing a kiss to your lips once more. 

“Easy.” he whispers into your mouth, but it only makes you whimper. His words are empty to you, especially when he continues to pet and slide his fingers along your pussy, pressing into you gently only slightly before he pulls them back again. 

Your breath hitches and you become rigid when he presses one of his fingers into you fully, sliding it in and pressing into you deeply. The sound as he pulls back, the wet, slick sound of betrayal makes you sob. 

Levi lets out a shaky breath as he continues to move his finger inside you, pressing and curling until he pushes in a second one. The stretch makes you hiss and clench your fingers into the fabric over his shoulders. 

You wish he wasn’t positioned the way he was; he had pressed his leg between your thighs whilst you’d been distracted by his fingers, and now it was preventing you from clamping your thighs shut. Preventing you from stemming the sensation, preventing you from stopping him, preventing you from silencing the sounds he was drawing from you. The wet sound of his fingers pumping into you makes your cheeks burn, and you can’t stop the whines that it pulls from your throat. 

It’s obscene, and Levi knows it. He’s mouthing at your skin and inhaling your scent like he needs it to breathe, and when his thumb runs over your clit and you let out a high keen, legs clamping around his thigh, you can feel him trembling as he moans lightly into your flesh. 

“Ah-ow-Levi!” You whine when a third finger tries to press in, the burn a lot more noticeable this time. In response, he circles your clit, flicking over it and making you clench around him. You feel like you’re burning, body hot as he pumps his fingers faster, the slick sounds making you moan, and embarrassingly they make you wetter. 

Gasping, you feel the tightness building and you claw at his shoulders and one hand grips his hair as you jerk in his hold. 

“Levi, Levi, Levi-”

“I’ve got you.” He whispers shakily, his pace increasing, and you can’t help but sob and bury your face into his neck as you feel the tightness snap, arching into him as you gush around his fingers. 

Your body goes boneless and you bask in the afterglow as it washes over you. You whimper lightly as Levi pulls his fingers free, sensitive and trembling with the aftershocks. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving you barely awake and tired. Although your eyes have closed, you can still hear Levi as he pants into your ear, swearing quietly, and the slick sound of his hand on his cock. 

Levi lets out a choked whimper and you feel a wetness splatter onto your stomach. If you weren’t so tired, you would have demanded that he clean it up and get out. But in this moment, all you want to do is sleep. 

Levi must feel the same, as he swallows audibly before he lies by your side, turning you and pulling you back into his chest. He fixes the duvet around you both before he wraps his arms around you, kissing your temple before burying his face into your hair. 

And you let him. You let him breathe you in, and tangle his legs with yours. You’ll address his bullshit in the morning, but for now, you let yourself fall asleep surrounded by his scent, by his warmth, lulled over by the sound of his breaths. 

[thelastwarriornun]

oh godddd… hnnn snippets?!? i beg

Two days late but here you are anon as promised

A brief bit of Shannon's flashback in the first chapter:

“I won’t let you take her. Think of all the lives we could save. It’ll end the same for her, she might be immune but you and I both know the infected are not the worst monsters out there. At least this way we have a chance to save everyone.” 

Shannon can’t explain why the life of the girl currently thrown over her shoulder means more than the collective universe around them. This isn’t about the daughter, she’d lost, and atonement was beyond her grasp the moment she’d killed the first firefly. It was as simple as knowing that in spite of the world around them, Beatrice deserved to live.

“Fuck everyone else.”

------

some Mary x Shannon x Beatrice from the intro chapter

Beatrice winces, clearly uncomfortable at the praise, folds her arms, seeming to sink within herself, ducking her head in acknowledgement,” I’m glad they think so. Speaking of, I'm really tired. I was actually thinking about going to bed early.” 

Beatrice head tips towards the clock on her desk as if to say please take the hint. You can leave now.

“That reminds me, Mary was just telling me a joke about a clock earlier-.” Shannon’s voice fades, as Beatrice’s expression only seems to grow more dim. “Sorry not the time. We just came by to drop a couple things off.”

Mary thankfully takes her cue and steps into view, a shotgun in one hand, a guitar in the other. Unable to help herself, Shannon scowls, not having realized what Mary’s gift actually was. “Seriously?” 

“Well one of us had to get her something practical.” Mary grumbles.

Beatrice glances between the two, lips tugging up into a soft smile. “So which one is the practical gift?”

Mary scoffs at that. “I’m not sure it’ll be much use if you need that question answered.”

------

last but not least the Ava x Beatrice dynamic from the second chapter:

“Beatrice!” 

The outcry startles her, the toes of her sneakers catching against the uneven ground. It’s an unfortunate sequence of events that leaves Beatrice scrambling to right herself. By the time Beatrice orients herself, there’s a firm hand at her elbow.

“Easy, it kind of defeats the purpose if you twist your ankle.” 

“Ava?” 

It should be illegal to look as good as Ava does after patrol. Ten hours of trekking through the forests around Jackson and Ava looks as good as she did this morning. The flecks of mud that are currently clinging to Beatrice’s clothes, totally absent from Ava’s own. Ava seems totally unfazed, an arm moving to curl around Beatrice’s shoulder. 

“You know I think that’s the exact reason sneakers are a no go in the patrol manual.” 

Beatrice scoffs, brushing Ava’s arm from her shoulder. “I’m fairly certain the only rule on patrol is something along the lines of don’t get bit, and don’t deviate from the route.” 

Ava, blissfully unaware of the side effect of her touch, loops her arm through Beatrice’s. “Well if we really want to get technical it’s a dry erase board not a manual.” 

“Ava, you’re the one that called it a manual.” 

“Semantics.” 

Beatrice in spite of herself chuckles. This time resigning herself to the inevitability of Ava’s touch. Years of friendship and Beatrice is no closer to managing the uncomfortable skip in her chest at even the brush of Ava’s fingers. 

“Have you been back long?” 

“Maybe an hour.” 

Beatrice’s eyes narrow warily at the admission. “You waited an hour for me?” 

“Who says I was waiting for you? Maybe Japan just needed a good brushing?” Ava cuts with a feigned innocence. 

“Unlikely. I’ve known you for years, and I’ve never seen you wait to head to the diner after a run.” Beatrice pauses to gesture at the road around them. “Not to mention the fact that it’s cold.” 

“You know most people would be ecstatic to have such a pretty face waiting for them right at the gate.” 

“Most people wouldn’t think to ask what the pretty face wants.” Beatrice counters.

“So you do think I’m pretty.” 

Beatrice can feel the weight of Ava’s stare from the corner of her eye. The muscles in her jaw flex, narrowly averting the words that so easily come to mind. Beautiful. Radiant. Breathtaking. There were far better adjectives that Beatrice could assign to Ava. Pretty was inadequate. 

Unconsciously Beatrice raises her shoulders in a shrug, avoiding direct eye contact, and certainly avoiding a verbal response. Ava was an expert at finding numerous ways to poke and prod at Beatrice through the subliminal admissions in her words. 

A glance is all it takes to weaken Beatrice’s resolve. Ava’s bottom lip juts out, the previous crinkling of her eyes wholly absent now. Worst of all Ava looks genuinely wounded by Beatrice’s lack of response. 

“Obviously Ava, I’m not blind.” 

This time Beatrice allows herself a glance in Ava’s direction. Watching the words sink in, and it’s annoying really. Ava is practically glowing. All previous signs of hurt dissipate into one of Ava’s toothy smiles, the kind of smile that Beatrice has seen light up a room. Annoying. The concept that such an offhand comment from Beatrice might genuinely elicit such a reaction. 

“So I have a question.” 

“I’m shocked by this development.” Beatrice snarks. Her lips twitch with the effort of impeding a smile. 

“Shut up.” Ava’s shoulder shoves playfully against her own. “Back to my question. Are you coming to the dance tonight?” 

Beatrice can’t help the groan that escapes at that. It was the most logical conclusion, given Ava’s propensity for always being involved in societal gatherings, and Beatrice’s absolute hatred of going anywhere remotely populated. “Ava-”

They stop suddenly. Ava’s feet planting, as if Beatrice’s aversion to societal events is newfound rather than habitual personal preference. Their arms stay entwined long enough to force Beatrice to pivot, turning to face Ava. Ava who releases her arm only long enough for warm fingers to curl around Beatrice’s forearms. A preventive measure forcing Beatrice to absorb the full force of Ava’s disappointment. 

“Bea, please you have to come.” 

There’s a reason Beatrice has actively avoided any mention of the dance. Ava’s fingers ease in their restrictive grip, shifting into something gentler. A thumb smoothing over the raised skin of her forearm. Ava’s eyes are somber now, and honestly? Beatrice gets the feeling that there’s a level of authenticity to this. It cements the fact that if Beatrice doesn’t attend, it’ll compromise Ava’s ability to enjoy the evening. 

“You really want me there?” Beatrice hates how hopeful she sounds.

“I really do.” 

“Then I’ll be there.” Beatrice relents. It’s a decision of her own making after all, one that has absolutely nothing to do with the rush of heat pulsing through her with every gentle brush of Ava’s thumb. 

“It starts at 7. Don’t be late!” 

Ava practically cheers, pushing onto her toes to press a kiss to Beatrice’s cheek. “See you tonight!” 

Ava’s long gone by the time Beatrice finally blinks, pressing her fingers against her cheek absently. 

Fuck.