#and i need to be there for her emotionally

[goatgoesmbe]

You're a medic at Taskforce 141.

Except. you're still in medical school, at the final year, and must complete an elective rotation.

You applied for a specialized field elective, which is why you're here.

So expect more stress and sleep deprivation. finals. thesis. reports. all that on top of your work.

No time to care about yourself, messy hair, crumpled uniform worn to sleep, eyebags.

Of course, you work under supervision- a decent man really. He was just doing his job, but it pissed you off how he diminished you sometimes- making you feel like you can't do your job with many stuff on your plate already (which is true I guess, but- come on, you're here for the experience)

Fortunately, there are an odd four that somehow always made your day better.

Like how the Captain stepped in every time your supervisor not acknowledging you.

Or a certain sergeant with a mohawk who for some reason always needed something to patch up. He's probably just wreckless- but you like to think it's because he wanted to see you

Another sergeant- which was the kindest of the bunch. Will sometimes get you a cup of coffee how you like it, even accompany you during lunch- handfeeding you as you are busy studying for finals.

And the lieutenant cared about you in his own way.

Like that one time you were proof-reading your thesis late at night (or early morning) in the rec room..

"Your methodology is weak."

You jumped so hard that your laptop nearly toppled over.

Lieutenant Ghost stood behind you, arms crossed over his broad chest, silent as a ghost as he glanced at your screen, unimpressed.

"What-"

He ignored the question and nodded at your laptop. "You're making assumptions about patient stabilization times. Your sample size is too small. And your survival rate data is incomplete."

You frowned, feeling offended. "Excuse me-?"

Ghost exhaled, the closest thing to a sigh you'd ever heard from him.

He reached over, scrolling through your document with annoying precision, stopping at a paragraph.

"Here. You said field tourniquet applications reduce fatality rates by 60%, but you didn’t specify by mechanism—exsanguination control or delayed shock treatment?"

You stared. Not at the screen. At him.

This man—this cold, intimidating, emotionally-unavailable lieutenant—was critiquing her thesis at one in the morning.

"You… you read this?" You asked, incredulous.

He didn’t look at her. "You left your notes unsecured last week. I glanced through them."

"Glanced? You just ripped apart my entire methodology!"

He finally met your eyes, gaze sharp, unwavering.

"If you’re going to write a thesis based on field medicine, do it right. I won’t have you publishing half-baked conclusions based on incomplete data."

You blinked. Once. Twice.

He straightened, arms still crossed. "Rewrite them all tomorrow, get some sleep, or you’ll make more mistakes."

And just like that, he turned, heading toward the exit.

You called after him. "Lieutenant."

He paused.

"…Thanks," You mumbled with a smile.

He said nothing, but in the dim light, you swore you saw the faintest blush at the high of his cheeks- peeking behind his balaclava. And then he turned to walk away, disappearing into the night.

i like making reader to be miserable but loved, so- because let's be real, we read fics because we're miserable and wanted to be loved

[formulawolff]

a weekend in buffalo — d.r.

pairing -> fem!driver reader x daniel ricciardo

word count -> smau

warnings -> none really, just some gossip accounts, some softness, and photos of a couple making out, internet hate/slut shaming, cursing

a/n -> life has been overwhelming but the idea of gg with daniel makes me want to write. for now my brain came up with this. i hope y’all like it <3

liked by f1fangirl, f1daily, alex_albon, and 73,029 others!

f1teaspill it appears that daniel ricciardo has been spotted out and about in buffalo. but this time, he has company…. ☕️

user9229 guys are we sure this is real

f1teaspill these photos were sent to me through dms by fans. i cannot confirm nor deny the validity of the photos. i only share what is shared with me! ☺️

redbull4ever so what you’re saying is that there may be a chance these pics are fake…

mercgirly420 MIND YOU IT HAS ONLY BEEN A FEW MONTHS SINCE SHE BROKE TOTO’S HEART‼️

williamsstan girl we don’t know the full story about that so let’s be mindful of criticizing someone for moving on…

mercgirly420 girl stfu we all know this girl is a slut and only used toto to gain an advantage at a better team. she basically said that herself at the press conference at cota. that’s probably when she and daniel started to [more]

williamsstan respectfully, i’m not reading all of that 🤍

goldengirlforever we don’t even know if that’s our golden girl so you need to shut the fuck up 🤍

f1fan03939 HELLO⁉️ ALEX LIKED THE POST⁉️

user820 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE⁉️

f1stan636 uhhhh … is that… golden girl?

mercfan67 i think so. the height, hair color, stature, all match.

user45 guys i'm going to the game this weekend. i'll keep an eye out for gg and daniel! 🫡

f1fangirl2003 this is going to be an insane weekend for the daniel and gg truthers if this proves to be true

dannyfantom i am going to lose my shit (in the best way possible) if it's true!

user2004 these pics are so grainy tho.. we can't really be sure it's her!

user1999 ew what a slut. can't believe she emotionally cheated on toto.

user2001 ugh he deserves better than that home-wrecking whore 🤢

goldengirl posted to her story!

danielricciardo just posted!

liked by maxverstappen1, goldengirl.jpg, joshallenqb, and 932,002 others!

danielricciardo another great weekend in buffalo

view 2,204 comments

joshallenqb who is that beautiful man wearing the hard hat? 😩

danielricciardo your bf

maxverstappen1 it's nice to see you enjoying yourself in the states mate! 😆

danielricciardo thank you! ☺️ i can't wait to see you at cota!

dannyricstan how do i like this post more than once?

user1998 wow i love paris this time of year

f1fan19972 daniel pls tell me you're not dating that slut from the states...

user45 screaming crying throwing up how is a man so beautiful

f1girly is this gg's burner cause...

yukitsunoda0511 i see this post made it to the wrong side of instagram 🙃

oscarpiastri what a man!

danielricciardo nah that's you sugar 😘

f1fan2023 why are you and gg both in buffalo?

f1user2005 yeah let's talk about that!

f1user05 praying that the rumors aren't true 😔

danielricciardo i fear that you have more important things to worry about

dannyric09 ummm so what's going on?

f1teapage no one knows atp

goldengirl.jpg just posted!

liked by danielricciardo, alex_albon, maxverstappen1, and 15,037 others!

goldengirl.jpg alexa, play this is the life by two door cinema club

danielricciardo slowly but surely indoctrinating you as a bills fan

goldengirl.jpg josh allen is a pretty cool guy!

maxverstappen1 nice to see you two enjoyed the weekend! 😄

alex_albon i say we get tix to a raiders game when we’re in vegas 🙂‍↕️

goldengirl.jpg brb running to check their schedule

goldengirl.jpg as long as we can invite my daniel i will be happy to go

goldengirlstan HELLO⁉️ “my daniel”

user7273 ISTHISAHARDLAUNCHICANT

gg939 GOLDEN GIRL X DANIEL TRUTHERS RISE UP‼️

lilymhe ugh stop it you look soooo good in the red + blue combo

lilymhe brb searching up how to be as gorgeous as golden girl

lilymhe also can't wait for the debrief. lmk when you're back home plssssss

landonorris love u both

landonorris mom n dad

goldengirl.jpg ugh love u son <3

oscarpiastri honorary parents

f1user2006 WHY IS NO ONE POSTING ABOUT THIS‼️

f1fan2004 YEAH I AM WONDERING THE SAME THING

mercedesfan2005 ew

georgefan2003 this is atrocious. you break toto's heart and now you're prancing around with this washed guy? unbelievable.

ggstan is this toto wolff's burner?

franscisca.cgomes AHH CUTIES!

lewishamilton so refreshing to see you on my feed again. missed you! 🤍 (p.s. great song choice)

carlossainz55 such a beautiful couple! 😀

alex_albon okkkk facebook mom!

jallen96 love you both! go bills!

hailee.jpg ugh imy already sweet girl

goldengirl.jpg ugh imy more. maybe i'll come down one weekend for girls night

danielricciardo my beautiful girl, everyone

f1teaspill is this a confirmation? check your dms!

f1gossip pleeeeaaasseee check your dm!

f1teadaily we need the tea girl!

[sirazaroff]

Lil question(that you don’t have to answer) but what did morrible do to Glinda?(with your head canons ofc)

Hmm, what didn’t Morrible do?~

I’m still trying to work out the details of this but…

Short Answer: she fucks that girltwink up.

Long Answer:

At Shiz, Morrible was working hard to build Elphaba up so that she would go along with her hidden agenda, and it was working very effectively too.

Then things changed and now Morrible has Glinda to train instead. The nurturing and encouragement Elphaba received? That’s not needed here, no. What Morrible attempts to do to Glinda is break her, because someone that high up will only listen if they’re ‘humbled’.

So her plan goes as follows:

1. WITHER:

Morrible only has one agenda in mind for Glinda. She needs to break everything about that woman, and break she does. It’s not just mentally and emotionally, it’s physically as well with long days spent practicing sorcery. Every failed spell is swiftly dealt with until Glinda is left with battered hands and frustration welling behind her eyes. Weeks and weeks of this eventually numb her to any comforts of this new life.

2. FEAR:

Because she’s the beloved Good Witch, Glinda feels a sense of value. That she can eventually be irreplaceable and in turn, protected. Morrible works very hard to let her know that with every waking moment they spend together is but a living nightmare for the Upland woman. A lesson turns into a deliberate assault with no one around to bear witness, nor anyone to care to investigate the screams that echo in the hallways. The Wizard needs Glinda alive, not well.

3. SNAP:

Years and years of this and Glinda never fully relent, testing Morrible’s patience of all things. As long as Elphaba is out there, Glinda holds out hope. By now the sight of Glinda will set Morrible off and in one occurrence she doesn’t realize her emotions have caused a storm to brew outside, a single bolt of lighting breaking through the windows to strike Glinda. She survives, the Wizard is very inconvenienced, and Morrible decides to simply just keep her distance from the Good Witch from then on.

Glinda gets the last laugh in the end. The Wizard is gone and Morrible tries to have Glinda executed in an attempt to grab power before she could. She learns far too late what Glinda shares with the Wizard; popularity. The people rebel and Morrible’s reign ends as quickly as it starts, left to rot in the dungeons of the palace while Glinda becomes the new ruler.

——————

As my favorite tag ever once said: Madame Morrible is never seeing heaven :)

Hopefully this made sense. I didn’t trust my words so I made some pictures to go with it. Anyways ask me about my scarecrow au.

[emmg]

I see we’re once again discussing Emmrich being a weird little freak. Color me inspired.

Not only is his best friend a failed lich with a Warhammer 40K obsession, but this man decides that the perfect way to woo Rook is by taking them to meet his parents. Who are, surprise surprise, very dead. On their first not-quite-date. And then he smooches them. Rook, not the corpses. (But, let’s be real, that clarification was needed.)

Volkarin crying after sex isn’t even up for debate. It’s established fact at this point. He gets laid and then immediately has a full-body, emotionally devastating breakdown. Just raw, ugly sobbing in the afterglow. Wet dick, wet eyes. Every. Single. Time. What a sweetheart. Love him.

He’s creepy, he’s sentimental, he’s 50-something, and sure, he’s a tenured professor and a respected Fade expert, but let’s not pretend he’s normal. This is the same guy who makes his friends’ spouses go, “Jonathan, please. Do we have to invite Emmrich fucking Volkarin? He’s gonna show up with seventeen different gifts because he couldn’t pick one, and then he’ll find a skeleton in the backyard and start whispering to it while we’re just trying to have brunch.”

His family died young, so he just said fuck it and built one out of actual bones. Now he has Manfred, and if anyone has a problem with that? Too bad. Here’s some tea, Manfred likes steam :)))

He wants an eternal flame, the bury me with my beloved fantasy, and most likely kids. This man is so dad-coded it’s beautiful. Rook, please, give this man a daughter so he can have tea parties with her and sue a parent-toddler bonding class (where the unspoken rule is that it’s for moms) just so he can attend. The instructor will be like, “Welcome, mamas! :))) ….and Emmrich.”

Good for him. I hope he cries his entire heart out post-orgasm every night while infodumping about the Fade and his favorite embalming fluids. Kiss him sloppy style, Rook, his face and his dick. He deserves it.

[physalian]

If I may share my own take on the above OP:

I have a female medic character who has chronically poor bedside manner, often at odds with a highly emotionally intelligent and soft-spoken man. And she's quite self-concious about not being able to do it like he can so easily.

She just does not know how to be gentle and cannot ever find something soft to say. She's not someone who will sit there patting your back and writing greeting card interiors. She tries! But she's a doer, not a talker, even if that 'doing' is bringing boxes of tissues and making a bowl of soup.

Meanwhile, the man is the exact opposite. He always knows exactly what to say, the unofficial team therapist.

Thing is, that her "get shit done" makes up for his lack of action, and his "I'm like a warm weighted blanket" makes up for her lack of comfort.

AND, she's the only one who won't go easy on him, when he really needs someone to say "enough feeling sorry for yourself get your ass up and stand up for yourself" and he's the only one who will be gentle with her, when she won't even be gentle with herself. She learns from him, he learns from her.

As a girl who sucks at comforting people, who acts exactly like her, she's so fun to write.

I want more female characters who are just so bad at comforting others. Not for lack of trying or caring, they just get so so awkward when someone's upset, and they try to repeat things they've heard even if it doesn't necessarily apply to the situation, or they accidentally say the wrong thing and make it worse. If someone cries they panic and throw every single comfort technique down at once and it only helps because it's such bizarre behaviour

[littlepeach-world]

How about headcanons frontman x player! reader, reader notices that the staff has started to treat her more gently than other players, which worries her. And then she'll lose and fall into the hands of the frontman

Frontman falling for Player!Reader HC

Pairing: Frontman/Hwang In-Ho x Player!Reader

Warnings: Obsessive!Inho, Abduction, Power Imbalance, Psychological Distress, Possessive!Inho, Moral Dilemmas.

Word count: 730

Notes: Thank you sm for the request. I've never written a headcanon before, so I’m sorry if this sucks lol 🧡

In-ho is taken aback the moment he sees you on the screen during Red Light, Green Light. Your beauty captivates him, but it's your graceful, swift movements that leave him mesmerized. His eyes are glued to you, unable to look away even if he tries. He feels an inexplicable pull towards you, as if you walked right out of a dream, leaving him both in awe and confusion.

Your selflessness stands out in the brutal world of the games. You help other players, ensure their well-being, and stand up for them. Each act of kindness only deepens In-ho’s infatuation, pulling him further under your spell.

In-ho wrestles with his feelings, knowing that they are a dangerous weakness. He tries to push them away, but his heart continually pulls him back to you. The internal struggle intensifies with each passing day.

As he monitors the games, In-ho finds himself rooting for you, an overwhelming worry for your safety gnawing at him. He battles with his internal beliefs about the fairness of the game, restraining himself from running in to save you.

One night, In-ho dreams of you. It's a vivid and haunting vision where you radiate an almost ethereal glow, your presence so strong that he wakes up in a cold sweat. The dream leaves a lasting imprint, making it impossible for him to get you out of his mind.

After the dream, In-ho finds himself consumed by thoughts of you 24/7. His mind fixates on your every move, your expressions, and your interactions with other players. This intense focus evolves into an obsession, as he feels a desperate need to know about your every whereabouts.

He begins to monitor you more closely, watching the screens for any sign of you. Every action you take is noted, analyzed, and etched into his memory. The surveillance intended for cold, efficient observation becomes a means for him to feel connected to you.

The deeper his obsession grows, the more he fights with himself. Rationally, he understands the perilous nature of such feelings in the context of the game. But emotionally, he can't help but be drawn to you, driven by a powerful urge to protect you at all costs.

Despite his internal conflict, In-ho subtly influences the guards’ treatment of you. He ensures you receive extra food, additional blankets, and vitamins. He goes as far as arranging for you to be the last player in one of the games, making it easier for him to protect you.

You begin to feel singled out due to the preferential treatment, which only heightens your anxiety. Other players notice the difference, growing suspicious and further distressing you. The isolation within the group becomes palpable.

During the marble game, you choose to forfeit, accepting your fate to save your childhood friend. You close your eyes, ready to accept what’s to come, a mixture of peace and fear settling in.

You hear a gunshot but feel no pain. Opening your eyes, you see a bullet shell on the floor. Shock overtakes you as a hand covers your mouth, pulling you away. 

Being pulled away during the marble game, you slip into unconsciousness. When you wake up, you find yourself lying in a luxurious black and gold room.

The door opens and a figure dressed in black clothing and wearing a black mask steps in. 

Without a word, the figure removes his mask, revealing a very handsome man. He steps closer and introduces himself, “Hwang In-ho.” 

In-ho calmly explains, “I saved you from the game. And I will continue to save you for as long as it takes.” His voice carries a tone of unwavering determination, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions.

As he speaks, you notice the look on his face—a potent mix of possessiveness, darkness, and passion. The possessiveness in his gaze is palpable, as if he’s silently declaring that you belong to him. The intensity in his eyes makes you shiver. You’re caught between a sense of uncertainty—wondering what his true intentions are—and a curiosity that pulls you in, unable to look away.

The depth of his emotions raises an unsettling question in your mind: What does ‘as long as it takes’ truly mean? The combination of his unwavering commitment and the darkness in his gaze suggests a level of obsession you cannot yet fully comprehend.

[fear-is-truth]

CHO SANG-WOO (조상우)

₊‧꒰ warnings ꒱ ‧₊˚ soft dom!sang-woo ۶ৎ age gap ۶ৎ s1 spoilers ۶ৎ nsfw 18+ . . . headcanons ˚₊˙⋆ ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊. ˚₊‧꒰ note ꒱ ‧ i was trying to be realistic so…

PRE-GAME

۫ ꣑ৎ he takes you to meet his mother early on—this is huge, considering sang-woo is a private person, and his mother is the only family he has. so if you meet her, it means he sees a future with you. she adores you, treating you like the daughter she never had.

۫ ꣑ৎ your parents simply love him. they can’t believe their child is dating a graduate from seoul national university. it doesn’t even matter that he’s a few years older than you—they brag about him constantly. “he’s a genius,” they tell their friends. “successful, hardworking. polite, too.”

۫ ꣑ৎ if you don’t like him smoking, he promises to cut back. never smokes in your presence, doesn’t lets the scent cling to his clothes when he comes home to you. he’s careful about it, rinsing his mouth before kissing you. if you catch him sneaking a cigarette on a particularly bad day, he sighs and stubs it out before you even have to say anything.

۫ ꣑ৎ sang-woo thrives on intellectual conversations, especially enjoys debating with you, because he finds your mind fascinating.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s a perfectionist in every aspect of his life, including your relationship. sang-woo holds himself to an impossibly high standard, and sometimes, that extends to you—he doesn’t mean to be critical, but he has expectations, and when they aren’t met, he gets frustrated. he learns, over time, to be gentler with you, to let go of the idea that everything needs to be perfect.

۫ ꣑ৎ chronic insomniac. but if you’re beside him, if your hand is resting on his chest or your leg is tangled with his, he sleeps a little easier. on nights when sleep won’t come, he watches you instead.

۫ ꣑ৎ occasionally gifts you with expensive jewellery, but nothing gaudy. real gold and diamonds—elegant in their simplicity. he prefers to see you in things with longevity that won’t lose their value. doubles as an investment piece, not just accessories.

۫ ꣑ৎ no matter how busy he is, sang-woo never forgets important dates. your birthday, your anniversary, even the day you first met. he never brings it up in advance, but he always has something special planned.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s disciplined, wakes up at the same time every day, drinks his coffee black, works for hours without rest. but for you, he bends—just a little. if you want to sleep in, he lets you, only sighing fondly when you roll over and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his back. “five more minutes,” you moan, and against his better judgment, he stays.

۫ ꣑ৎ not outwardly possessive, but he is a bit controlling. he won’t tell straight up dictact who you can and can’t see, but he will casually criticise them if he thinks they’re a bad influence. he won’t demand your location either, but will insist that you check in with him, just so he “knows you’re safe.”

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s very reliable (until he isn’t) at first, he’s the perfect lover. calls when he says he will, never forgets your birthday or anniversary, handles things efficiently. but as his debts mounts and pressure builds, there’s a certain tightness in his jaw when money is mentioned. he won’t talk about it. he won’t let you in.

POST-DEBT

۫ ꣑ৎ not emotionally available, prefers to keep things bottled up. when sang-woo is stressed, he withdraws into himself.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s haunted; the investment failure eats him alive. gradually becomes distant, distracted, and hates when you ask questions about his finances. sang-woo lies—first to you, then to himself—because the truth is unbearable.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s frustrated at himself, but it manifests in other ways—he snaps over small things, withdraws from conversations, goes through more cigarettes per day.

۫ ꣑ৎ still tries to take care of you. he won’t let you pay for things, even if he can’t afford them. he’ll miss meals before letting you notice that money is tight. his pride is too big to let you see how bad things have gotten.

۫ ꣑ৎ he hates that you don’t leave; he wants to tell you to go. you should be with someone who isn’t drowning in debt and in constant fear of the police. but he can’t bring himself to say it. instead, he avoids you, keeps you at arm’s length.

۫ ꣑ৎ if you ever found out about his debt, the man would break down—nobody is supposed to know. not his mother, especially not you. if you find out and don’t leave? he’ll be both relieved and devastated, because you should leave. and yet you don’t.

۫ ꣑ৎ he debates leaving you “for your own good.” he genuinely thinks you’d be better off without him. if you catch onto his self-destructive tendencies and reassure him that you want to be here, he just stares at you like he doesn’t understand why.

NSFW

۫ ꣑ৎ not the type to outright deny you, but when he’s teasing, it’s in an excruciatingly nonchalant manner. he’s busy, he says, without even looking up from his laptop. too much work, too little time—yadda yadda. he makes you wait, makes you impatient, until he finally shuts his laptop and pins you to the mattress as if he hadn’t been ignoring you for the past hour.

۫ ꣑ৎ doesn’t experiment much, because he knows what works and doesn’t see a reason to change it. but if you want to try something, he won’t shut it down, either. he’ll simply raise an eyebrow, consider it for a second, and say, “if that’s what you want.”

۫ ꣑ৎ doesn’t talk much in bed, but because he doesn’t see the point. he’s focused, too busy paying attention to you to bother with unnecessary words. at most, you’ll get quiet groans, maybe a low, approving hum if you’re particularly responsive.

۫ ꣑ৎ mostly vanilla sex. no elaborate kinks, except for the occasional bondage using ties (but it’s more for effect). he likes routine, and that applies to the bedroom too. sang-woo knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly how to get the reaction he wants out of you.

۫ ꣑ৎ when he’s stressed though, he gets rough; burying his face in your neck as he fucks you like he’s trying to forget everything else.. not intentional, just a byproduct of the pressure he’s under. afterward, when he realises how rough he was, he’s gentle again—hands smoothing over your skin, lips pressing on your temple as an apology.

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s a soft dom!!!! and you’re his pillow princess, whether you intended to be or not. he prefers to the one doing the work.

SQUID GAME

۫ ꣑ৎ he’s shocked to see you there. horrified, even. sang-woo was ready to do what it takes to win, but you weren’t supposed to be here.

۫ ꣑ৎ will not let you slow him down. sounds cruel, but sang-woo is in survival mode. he will help you, but only as long as it doesn’t jeopardise him.

۫ ꣑ৎ if it comes down to a split-second decision—you or him—sang-woo doesn’t want to think about what he’ll choose.

۫ ꣑ৎ tells himself he doesn’t afford to love you under the deadly circumstances. but when he closes his eyes, all he sees is you.

pic creds to AESTHCORE_276 on pinterest

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[prettealolilol]

I feel like as a reader and someone who grew up poor, Jason doesn't really pay attention to was he uses as a bookmark. Of course he has a handful of those, birthday and christmas presents, or simply gifts from when Bruce first found out the kid loved reading and wanted him to feel at home. And since the man is rich and emotionally constipated, he bought Jason really expensive bookmarks, like one made in China with a really detailed dragon carved into the wood, or another one embedded with little diamonds from France. Jason doesn't really understand, because a paper would be enough, you know ? There was only one bookmark Jason had truly felt overjoyed to have : one that belong to Jane Austen. Needless to say, Bruce had almost cried when Jason hugged him tight, smiling like he was trying to rival the sun. (When Jason died, Bruce framed the bookmark and put it in one of his desk drawers. When Jason came back, and they were on better terms, he went to his son place and put back the bookmark. When Jason came home, he found a birthday gift awfully wrapped up on his bed. If he cried while holding the bookmark, no one needed to know.)

Back to the point, Jason doesn't really care about what he uses, as long as he doesn't lose his page (although he almost gutted Tim when the boy folded the corner of his book. Instead he shook him like a puppet, telling him about how disrespectfull he was towards books and writers.).

---

Tim, pocking his head in the kitchen, where Alfred is busy cooking and Jason is reading : Has anyone seen my budget report ? I left it on the table in the library this morning, and I can't find it.

Jason, not looking up, shrugging : No one cares about your reports Timbers, no someone would have move it.

Tim leaves, sighing. Later, when Jason goes to close his book and reach for the paper he was using, he realises he was holding said report. Alfred raises an eyebrow. He must have taken it when he picked up the book in the library.

---

Damian, barging the cave, clearly annoyed : Todd !

Jason, repairing his bike : What, demon brat.

Damian : Tell me this instance if you have taken my sketchbook.

Jason, looking up : Why the fuck would I have your sketchbook gremlin ? Your dog is more likely to have run off with it.

Damian stomps back into the manor grumbling about Titus being more polite that Tood could ever be. Jason decides to ignore him. Later, when he's done with his bike and picks up his current book for some well deserved reading time, something falls with a thud when he opens it. Apparently he was the one with the sketchbook and used it as a bookmark. He didn't even realised. He'll have to find a way to give it back without the baby demon knowing.

---

Jason and Cass are sitting on the couch when he remembers he left his phone in his room and is expecting some informations. He looks around for something that could keep the book open, finding nothing.

Cass is staring at him, signing : Looking for something ?

Jason stares at her hand for a few seconds, before shrugging. He takes her left hand, the closest one and put it on his book : Don't move just a sec, i gotta go get something.

Cass stares at his back incredulously. When he comes back and take back his book, she just shakes her head, a fond smile on her lips.

---

Bruce, walking into the living room where the kids are playing : Does anyone have 20 bucks I can borrow ?

Jason, snorting : Aren't you, like, the richest man in the country ?

Bruce : I need to pick up something and they don't take card. There was an issue with the bank so no money can be withdrawn. I put a 20$ bill in the kitchen but I can't find it.

Dick, standing up, taking his wallet : I've got you. You owe me now though.

Bruce, slightly smiling : Sure chum.

When Jason get back to his place in the next morning and drops on his bed, he pulls out the book Tim had recommended a few days ago (although nobody can know he's reading it). A 20$ bill slips on his bed when he opens the book. He takes it, putting it his back pocket.

Jason, grinning : It's sad he didn't even try to find it. It would have so satisfying to watch the great Batman look for a bill hidden in a book.

---

Jason is helping Alfred bring the groceries to the kitchen, because no one in the godforsaken rich family should be trusted with food or anything to do with cooking.

Duke, shouting from the library : Why is there a dictionary open in the middle of the library ? On another book ?

Jason, who hadn't had the time to look for a proper bookmark : It's so I don't lose my page.

Duke, still shouting : Why a dictionary though ?

Jason ignores him. He doesn't have to explain himself.

---

Dick, at Jason's door : Hey little wing, have you seen my blue swe-

Jason, looking at his phone on his bed : What ?

Dick : You're the one who had it all this time. Seriously Jay, why don't you just ask- Why is there an open book underneath ?

Jason, shoting up : Don't touch that ! You're gonna make me lose my page.

Dick, blinking : Don't you have like thousand of bookmarks ?

Jason : Shut up.

---

When Stephanie breaks in Jason's apartment, he is grumbling about babysitting while bringing his med kit. She reaches his couch and suddenly she's laughing so hard she ends up wheezing on the floor. Jason doesn't understand why, until she stands back up slowly, taking her phone out to take a picture. Jason doesn't know if she's laughing at the book mark that is in fact a mug, or at the mug itself. It's clearly holding on for dear life, put down in between the pages, absolutly not stable. He then receives a text on the children Batman kidnapped 's groupchat, seeing a picture of a mug with Batman's signature bat symbol and the inscription 'this mug survives longer than Robins' (actually, Tim has a matching one with the inscription 'bats don't kill... coffee might', but no one needs to know that.).

[sai-int]

(my ask box ate your ask :/) @siriusxmunofficial said that heartbeat by childish gambino reminds them of douchebag!simon, and I couldn't agree more.

cw : groveling simon, swearing, fighting and fucking (the usual), should be read as a continuation of 'checkmate'

his flat is dark, the air thick with the stale stench of cheap whiskey and regret. it's been days, maybe a week, since he last heard from you. he hasn’t eaten in days, just shot after shot, pulling back on the glass like it’ll erase whatever ache’s settling into his chest. he hasn’t left the couch. hasn’t even bothered to try to think straight.

all he can think about is you.

your name keeps flashing across his phone, texts unanswered, calls ignored. he just knows that it’s breaking him. that his chest feels hollow every time he looks at his phone and sees the missed calls.

and the worst part? he doesn’t even know why it hurts this much. it’s just sex, right? just sex. he’s had countless women, countless bodies, nothing more than a warm hole to fuck until he’s bored. you were just a distraction, something to pass the time until the next job, the next drink, the next moment where he could bury himself in something else

but he’s not bored of you. and that’s the problem.

simon’s drunk, the bottle in his hand heavy, its contents burning down his throat in a desperate attempt to erase the memory of you. but it doesn’t work. nothing works. he brought home another girl to fill the void, some chick with a short skirt and cheap perfume from the pub, someone who doesn’t matter, someone who definitely isn't you.

her moans were too high-pitched, her cunt too loose. she didn't clench around him like you did, didn't claw at his back like you would. she wasn’t you. nothing about her was you. the way you moved, the way your body fit under his. not even close to what you gave him. she’s nothing. but he uses her, fucks her like it’s the only thing keeping him from shattering. the moment she leaves his flat, he kicks over a chair, fuming. nothing means a damn thing without you. he doesn't even realize what it is, this ache for you.

it’s just sex.

it’s not.

he can feel it. he’s desperate for you. the rush, the high, the fucking need that keeps clawing at his heart and his dick at the same time, but he doesn’t let himself think about the heart part for too long. not yet. because thinking means acknowledging the one thing he’s been too fucking proud to admit: he’s emotionally fucked up over you.

meanwhile, you’re dodging him.

you’ve been dodging his calls for days. countless calls in one night, and you just hung up each time, guilt tugging at you with every unanswered ring. he’s desperate, and you’re slowly pulling away. but you’re not blocking him. not fully. something about his name still makes you pause, still makes you want to answer and fall back into those habits you’re fighting to leave behind.

you miss him. not in the way you want to, though. in the way he wants you to. you miss the adrenaline, the chaos. the fucking rush of being wanted by someone like him. that intoxicating feeling of being his, even when you knew you weren’t.

but you’re done. you have to be.

you take a breath, head in your hands after the fifth call that night. you can’t take it anymore. it’s getting harder to ignore the ache inside you. you just want it to stop.

there’s a knock. its well past 12 and you aren't expecting anyone. you hesitate, fingers shaking as you grip the handle. and there he is.

simon. standing in your doorway, hand on the frame like he can't stand on his own

his face is lined with exhaustion and guilt, the rough edges of his demeanor even sharper tonight. he’s a goddamn mess and something cracks in you. he’s drunk and those eyes that usually look so fucking cold are filled with something else, something you can’t name.

"why’re y' ignoring me, baby?" his voice is rough, strained, his words slurring like he's barely holding it together. he pushes past you and into your flat like it's his right, pacing and running his hands through his hair like it'll give him answers. "t... talk t'me, please?"

you sigh as he stumbles in, fists clenched at your sides as you slam the door shut. "you’re really gonna show up at my door like this?" your voice cracks, but you don’t care. "you’re gonna waltz back into my life after you ruined me, and now you want me to just- what? forgive you?"

he opens his mouth to say something but stops. looks away. like he’s trying to find the right words. and when he looks back at you, there’s something in his eyes. something that makes your heart race even though you want to scream at him

"i dunno what the hell this is anymore," he spits out, frustration clear in his tone. "but i want y'back, i fuckin’- im tryin' t'fix this, doll , i-"

"fix it?" you laugh, bitter and hollow. "you don’t get to fix shit, simon. you’ve done enough damage already. you don’t want more, and you never did. what about me? what the fuck about me?"

he steps forward, his body pressing against yours, his hands smooth over your hair. "i never meant t'hurt ya. i’m just…" he trails off, free hand running through his own hair, frustration spilling over. "i dunno know how t'fix this- I miss y'so mu-"

you can’t stop it. you can’t hold it in anymore.

"you fucking miss me? is that it? you miss my cunt? you miss getting your dick wet? because you sure as hell don’t miss me." you’re crying now, tears slipping down your cheeks, mixing with the anger that’s been building up for so long.

you shove him back, hands shaking as you push the words out. "i wanted more, simon. more than just sex. i wanted something real. but you couldn’t give it to me and i can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with being nothing more than another notch on your fucking belt."

you turn away, hot, salty tears spilling as you struggle to catch your breath. this was supposed to be it. you were supposed to be done with him. but the moment his hands are on you, pulling you back against him, the fight drains out of you.

"y'think i don’t want more, yeah?" simon’s voice is a low growl in your ear as he spins you to face him, tugging you flush with him, kissing the side of your neck with urgency. "y'think i don’t want you?" he kisses you harder, sucking and nipping with a kind of desperation you’ve never seen before. "all of you?" it’s not the gentle caress you want.

"you smell like a cheap whore." your voice wavers, barely audible.

there’s a long, torturous silence and his lips still against you. you almost think he’s going to turn heel and walk away. but then he hooks his finger under your chin, snapping your face to his.

"and you smell like my captain."

and then his mouth is on yours, hot and desperate, like he’s trying to breathe you in, like he’s trying to make up for everything. and for a second, it’s almost like it’s all okay.

but it’s not. it’ll never be okay.

you’re kissing him back before you can even stop yourself, your fingers intertwine with his locks as the cycle starts all over again, and before you know it, you're both stumbling to your bedroom. you’re both still so fucking angry, but the need for each other is stronger than anything, especially now. simon’s kissing you like he’s starving, pushing you down onto the bed, his hands shaking as he pulls you under him.

and just like that, you’re back in his arms, back to what it always was.

and you let him. you let him take, because it feels like you’re being seen in a light no one else can see you in.

and then, as he's ripping your clothes off,

"this is just sex,' he mutters against your lips, but his voice falters like he doesn't even believe it himself. "just fucking sex."

you know, deep down, you’re not just some toy to him. and you’re not just a fuck to him either. you've always seen him for what he is, the mess he’s trying to hide. and you’re not gonna let him fuck this up again.

this time, when he fucks you, it’s different. it’s rougher, sure, but there’s something else in it. a quiet plea that he’s not ready to admit. and maybe, just maybe, you’ll let him prove himself. because you both know you’re stuck in this loop together.

maybe you’ll never get out of it.

and maybe you just don't want to.

douchebag!simon mlist

[summertimesadnessirl]

I once read this story about Vladimir Nabokov.

About how he was obsessed with collecting butterflies, and all the weird shit in Lolita started because he realized one day he was literally murdering these little creatures.

And how fucked up that is.

I don't know if that's true or not because I never checked the sources.

But even the delusional narrator of that story eventually understands that you don't love someone if your idea of love is to suffocate someone in a jar.

Armand got 77 years in a jar with no air in it, and he knows it. But he didn't love Louis so much as he'd been in jars with no air in them his whole life and I think putting someone else in one might have allowed him to realize none of the people in his childhood, or Marius, or the other people in his life ever cared about him. That the fact that he loved them because he had never known anything other than starvation and little enclosures wasn't because they deserved it.

Lestat has a lot of problems. A big one is that he just plays the role people he likes want him to play without thinking. This is the thing he and armand have in common. They both reflexively do this in different ways and for different reasons so they can only kind of pay attention to one another by proxy, in a crowd. It's not that they don't have personalities, it's just their primary way of dealing with people. Lestat defaults to being a rebel or a villain in every story he's in, when he meets a new person he defaults to being in love with them but he also argues with them all the time. This works really well with Louis because Louis hates himself most of the time, so as long as Louis hates himself it's easy for Lestat to be kind to him. If he starts to improve, though, the focus shifts. It's on some level true that lestat is "waiting until you are happy." It's not on purpose, but if there is too much harmony, that's difficult for him. He literally needs the drama of some kind of high stakes story to be happening around him all the time. In the books he walks blithely into traps all the time, and on one level it's because he's kind of a himbo, but on another level it's because he kinda can't resist seeing what the trap will do. There's a whole part in The Tale of the Body Thief where he knows the body thief is going to try to keep his body and also he is very likely to die as a random mortal human and Louis is like "we both know this is a trap and we both know you're going to do it anyway." The only times Lestat really gets to love people is the times when he's killing them, and he constantly rhapshodizes about how beautiful all his victims are and how wonderful it is to be near them and follow them and stuff, even the ones who aren't pretty or anything, like elderly people and so on. The only time I remember him being nice to people just to be nice to them is Quinns grandmother in Blood Canticle, but that is 100% because he's enjoying the dramatic irony of letting some old lady show him her priceless collection of cameos, and also he's in the middle of a ghost story so it doesn't matter, he's playing Sherlock Holmes.

Lestat was really good when he was doing the seduction game, he was really good at "please forgive me, I fucked up" but he kept falling into some weird role over and over that's like... patriarch. Whiny wife with no hobbies who keeps getting into trouble because his husband works too much and doesn't pay attention to him. Crashing the party because no one can match his freak and he wants to go home. Bad boy boyfriend who trolls your family when they seem homophobic and eats your priest. Lestat is emotionally immature but he also has no idea how to be a person. He's too busy being the main character, and when he meets Louis, it hasn't become blindingly obvious to everybody that Lestat is the main character. It seems like once that happens it mellows things out for him a little because people know why he's like that all the time. Armand actually seems like he's the first person to have figured out that Lestat is the main character, sometimes. Good for him.

the thing with how lestat and daniel handled louis’ depression is that they had the immediate audacity to believe they could fix him with their personalities and humors and sex whereas armand thought hey let’s make the situation more dire and throw in a daughter death and bdsm. you laugh but armand got 77 years and lestat and daniel only have regrets. see?

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What vibes does your future relationship give off ? (18+)

Yankee Doddle went to town riding on pony.

LOVE READING FLASH SALE (LINK)

ALL READING REGARDING SEX AND LOVE IS 75 % MAKING IT ONLY 20$

YES EVEN FOR 2 FOR 1

OFFER AVAILABLE UNTIL FEB 17

I ACCEPT ALL FORM OF PAYEMENT ON MY KO-FI.

PILE 1

SONG : TAKE YOU DOWN - SZA

SORRY BABE BUT YOUR READING IS LONGER 😭

PILE 2 

SONG : BABY - REMA

6 swords (reverse), judgement (reverse) 8 wands, King pentacles (reverse) 

This is the friend of your older brother. He’s writing a paragraph as a text while he's drunk… which he will never send. He may engage in dangerous behavior because he's behind the wheel texting it but he's not driving … just sitting there. Like he took a moment away from the party to catch some fresh air.  

There's so much sexual frustration and tension in his body is incredible. 

There's a clicking of keys… which is important. Is like his pondering if he should leave or spend the night over like it was planned. I don't think he will actually drive … should he leave, he would tag along with other boys to an actual party. Is like your brother has a lot on his mind regarding another girl from uni … you will not know. You will just be shocked he came back from campus earlier. Even your mom, like her heart might stop. Lol she is so sure for a moment that your brother got kicked out, your brother may have problems accepting answering to more important people ever since he’s a child. Like he’s not annoying or rude, he may come like that but he actually has good reasons to act up. He may be a crash out, but it's always been justified. Lol the bffs are going through it with women … they both seem to deal with it the same way … running away. They may actually act like fucking twin brothers at times. 

What the actually fuck ? I though I actually dealt with my fucking heart. I aint even lie, this past years I try to take my fucking distance with you. I mean I am trying to stay alive and keep my balls. Do you know what would happen to me if your brother could read my brain ? Especially with the past I have, fuck what past … I am too emotionally available with females … he’s not wrong keeping me away from you . I mean … I may not be worth you but can your homeboy dream ? I did not know you have to ask permission to think ? Why do I have to ask permission to use my own brain while you take possession of my thoughts 24/7 like you are paying the bills in this bitch. Your brother told me, we were going to surprise you today. I know he’s was running away, I am always going to have bro back but fuck why do I have to get fucked in the process ? You were in your bed, your long hair braided, legs hanging, wearing your short booty shorts, white tee dancing to some pop girl music (his snorting). Dancing like a maniac (explosion of laughter). The scream that came out of you is deserving of an Oscar but the way I had to keep my composure  when you jumped in my arms after hugging your bro was something. Fuck I miss having my hands around you, I miss caring for you, I miss your face, your scent and even your weird habits. Than you came downstair cooking something for me and the bros because your mom was caught up in a meeting and we can’t fucking cook to safe ourselves. Again I had to keep my composure, while your body was moving lazily to the music in your headphones. Keep my eyes on the game, keep my focus on the conversation, keep my attention on the character on the screen. When all I wanted to do was peeking at you. Than like you wanted to torture me … you put the plates a front of us with smile before running back upstairs to your bedroom. All I could think about for the rest of the evening, while drinking was do I claim a need to the bathroom so I can stare at you through the door … FUCK when did I become a such creep ? 

That man grew up in a house where spanking, physical abuse was the way to discipline. 

You often grow up, watching him with purple eyes, you thought maybe he had a temper he was hiding you because he's always calm whenever he deals with you, your family, fuck almost everybody, yet…

For some y’all actually know him since childhood and he always had bruises on him, so you never question it. When  you were younger you even though he had a purple birth scar. This shows the frequency and the normality of the assault he endured for your kid brain to normalize it. 

For some of you, that are fucking shock about that text … to confirm is him … go ask him about his family, childhood or parents, that will be your confirmation that's the pile for you. 

For the one too shocked to believe it, remember that energy is ever changing but if you keep up living the way you do, you will in fact finish your life with  the bff of your older brother. To unclaimed, change something … To claim … no need is already yours (I just saw someone giggling … LOL) 

This collective y’all are really shocked he will actually be interested in you because he treats you like a little sis… from my humble tarot reader opinion … he is too protective and soft for it not to be romance. The intensity in which he holds your gaze is too much to just be platonic 

I just heard : ‘’But nah girl…’’. BABE IF YOU DON'T WANT IT, CHOOSE SOMETHING ELSE. 

The card also shows that he is terrified to show care, empathy and love. You guys have no idea how stoic he is whenever he is interacting with his environment. The fact that he he check on you, the fact that you can call him when you need help (availability), the fact that he reply quickly (you don't how many people he leaves on deliver … ), the fact that he goes out of his way to always bring your fav snack, the fact that he always make sure nobody is annoying you at work, school or even calm your brother down when his become too smart with you . Or the FUCKING fact that he actually smile at (even though is fucking small), the fact that he don't mind hugging you. He's only that soft for you, there's not a single girl he fuck, been a relationship with or even flirt with in which he was this attentive and kind. 

He’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. 

VIBES: Crush, brother bff, secrecy, secret admire and one sided romance 

PREVIOUS READING

You can get 2 readings for the price of 20 $: LINK

PAC AUDIO : WHAT KIND OF LOVER ARE U BECOMING ?

PILE 3

SONG: JONI - SZA FT Don Toliver

POV is your past self and future self. Is like a small note. Maybe you guys use the note in your phone like a diary. 

The Chérie D’Amour coming from PILE 2, this is your POV from the situation in PILE 2. Also your brother doesn't know you are out there living an all year hot girl summer and have a whole roster. They only see you as your innocent self. Funny enough (my own  observation), now I understand how hard it is for you to believe what I wrote because you are the same. The dude plays mister nonchalant, while you play Miss Innocent. Both of you have a facade that does not exist with each other. Like you guys actually have an intimate bond with each other. You allow yourself to be soft with him and he allows himself to accept it.

PAST: 9swords, 9 wands (reverse) 

 You are on the bus. A week after a crazy night where u spend the night at your one night or maybe sneaky link. You just have an epiphany 

Honestly … I want more. Is it crazy to say. I want someone to hold me close while playing in my hair. I want someone to look at me like I am the star of their life, like maybe if they look away I may vanish. I want to be the banter of their existence. I want to be the reason for their every breath. I want to go on vacation with the one that loves me. The one that will spend hours, hours and his money just to see a smile on my face. Someone ready to die to hear me laugh. Someone who is just like Jack, will let me, Rose stay on the door  because he prefers a cold death than letting me feel the pain of Atlantic water. Someone will pick me up bridal style after I call him because I am too drunk with my homegirl and can't make my way home. I want someone to comfort me when the tears are rolling down  my cheeks, I want someone to drop anything when my voice has a subtle shake and I want someone to be my safe haven. I want someone who will enjoy spending time with me even when all we do is sit in silence in a quiet room. I want to slow dance in the living room while the dinner is cooking. (Bitter laugh) What the fuck for ? Even if the one came I will destroy it the same way I destroy the marriage of my parents. Maybe all I actually need is a break from having sex. I am tired of getting disappointed , I am tired of sexting, I am tired of the 2 am booty call, I am tired of being easy, I am tired of hair pulling, the spitting, the fucking, the aftercare, the uber, the walk of shame and the fucking hole that's keep growing deeper every time I come home to an empty house after giving my all to another looser because I can’t seem to attract he right one and I am too lonely to refuse anyone.

I am tired of feeling lonely . 

Future : Knight swords, Hermit 

I am hearing : ‘’ Omg he hears me ! Omg he knows my name’’ 

This one is a note but the intention behind it is almost like a prayer.

Please don't take him. Let him love me. Let him stay in my life. (Your eyes are burning with tears, none fell, you are holding on for dear life. You are sitting in your bedroom). I will do anything you ask. Don't let him resent. Let him love me forever. Don't let life take his warmth away from  me. I love every part of him, I love his tattoo, I love his grumpy attitude, I love the way he holds on to my hand. The way he always longs for some physical contact with me otherwise he loses his mind (bitter laugh, oh no… babe you broke … the tears are flowing slowly). I love the way he trust me with his Lego collection, with his car tools and on his bike. I love the way he let me in, my pretty boy, my very pretty boy, he don't deserve all that (Fuck … I finally got the vibe … he may have been in altercation or just an argument with his family which trigger him extremely which made him take its distance. Like you know he's in a dark place but he refuses to let you see him like that (aww now my heart is breaking … y’all going to make a cold ass bitch emotional, now he’s asking me if you are crying. He hates when you cry and it would put him in so much pain to know he is the reason for it). Usually he is transparent and you have amazing communication. That why you are ugly sobbing because it must be very bad, if he is taking his distance). He always comfort me when my periods hurt, when my mom say mean things to me, when school is too hard or life become to overwhelming. Even when I am trying to ignore him, he drop everything for me. I don't know what else to say … you must let him love me. Who else is going to look at me with so much love, caress me with so much passion, make love to me, worship my body with kisses, tell me how much he loves me and how hard is going to work so I never regret choosing him. 

Technically it's stop here …because you are sending him a voice note but since I love y’all let me add it here. I apologize because it might be too messy to read. 

Hiccup, hiccup, (his name), breathing trying to keep it in, breaking down in  tears, talking while having hiccups :  just so you know I love you. Please don't leave me behind, pretty boy. You remember what I told you … you ain't have to feel ashamed for what you did. Baby please come to me, we can work it all. Let me comfort you. 

Breakdown again:  Fuck I am stress. You better comeback (weak attempt to a bossy tone). Please (pleading tone). 

Before you came in the picture, your family enjoy reminding you how perfect it was. Than u came ... so maybe when your mom got pregnant their mirage could not handle it. Or you are a product of infidelity. Since you believe so heartily that you are the problem.

VIBES : Forbidden romance, one bed proximity, touch her and I will kill you, I want and see only her, I don't deserve her, she's too good for me, he's the only one that truly loves me and know me, we should not be doing this but can't seem to stay away from each other.

PREVIOUS READING

You can get 2 readings for the price of 20 $: LINK

PAC AUDIO : WHAT KIND OF LOVER ARE U BECOMING ?

PILE 4 

SONG : STAY - Adanna Duru FT Leven Kali

POV YOUR FS. 

I actually shuffled some cards but y’all nasty step dad came through. He's a fucking pervert Chérie d’Amour and I am so sorry you had to deal with this looser in your childhood. I am fucking sorry your mama did not protect you more. 

Your husband DONT PLAY WHEN  IT COMES TO YOU. 

Is a text after the first night spent together. 

Hey beautiful,

I know we just hang up and you probably sleeping rn. Fuck sure is 3 am in the morning but I cant get enough of you. I hate the fact that I can't dream because sleep is keeping me away from you. I want to spend every one of my seconds on earth dedicated to you. Texting you, calling you and hearing you. I am so obsessed with you girl … so you know we are lock in, lock in. There's nobody but us. I don't care if you're mad or tired of me, we are going to work this out. I see the bigger picture with you baby. That not the only picture I have of you… I love kissing you. When your lips lay on top of  mine, my eyes I can't help but close, pushing into a transit state of pure bliss. I love having sex with you, your moans are like  music to me. You have such a beautiful voice, I know I always compliment you about it. I guess you awakened a new kink in me babygirl.I  can recognize your voice, touch and scent in a room full of strangers because my soul knows you. My fav habits of yours when it comes to loving me … is the way you kiss my forehead, my eyes, my cheek and my lips in one setting just to make me smile. I love staring into your pretty face. That’s probably why I stare that much at my phone when u aint around. And she gets even prettier when I am thrusting in and out of your tight pussy. I love when you baby me, even though I am 6’4 (maybe taller) and 3x your weight. I love being the small spoon. I love being your good boy. I love finding safety in your arms. I aint joking girl … I am going nowhere. I LOVE IT HERE. 

VIBES: Commitment, marriage, long lasting romance, wedding day, husband and wife and growing old together 

PREVIOUS READING

You can get 2 readings for the price of 20 $: LINK

PAC AUDIO : WHAT KIND OF LOVER ARE U BECOMING ?

[p0orbaby]

some jill roord smut plsss 🤤🤤

i need her as a soft top so bad

-

Jill is between your legs, looking devastatingly pleased with herself. Of course, she is. This is where she is most at ease—both physically and emotionally. This is where she gets to be adored without asking for it, where she gets to pull you apart at her own pace, where she gets to revel in the mess she makes of you. She is in control, but not in a cruel way. Not in the way men are, puffed up with their own self-importance, mistaking luck for skill. Jill’s confidence is quieter. Unshakable. The kind that comes from knowing, beyond all doubt, that she is very, very good at this.

And the worst part? She doesn’t even look proud of herself. Not really. She just looks like she expected this outcome. Like this is the natural consequence of her actions. She is smug, yes, but not surprised. She knew exactly how this would go from the second she pressed her mouth against you, from the moment her hands settled against your thighs, firm and sure, keeping you exactly where she wanted you.

She drags her teeth over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, slow and indulgent, like she’s savouring something expensive. Her lips are soft, almost teasing, the barest hint of pressure before she moves away again, exhaling warm against your skin. You can feel her breath, maddeningly close, but not close enough. It’s deliberate. You know it is. It always is with her.

She pauses, just for a second, just long enough to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand—deliberate, performative, like she’s giving you a moment to collect yourself. Like she wants you to watch.

You do. Of course, you do. Chest rising and falling unevenly, head spinning, struggling to find something—anything—that will make you sound like you’re still in control.

“You’re taking your time,” you manage, though your voice comes out tight, thinner than you’d like.

Jill hums, tilting her head slightly, considering. Then she smiles, small and knowing, fingers flexing against your skin. “Should I not?”

She says it the same way she says everything, like she’s humouring you, like she’s giving you a choice when you both know she isn’t. You hate her for it. You hate her so much.

(You don’t. You’re in love withher. Which is infinitely worse.)

Her mouth finds your thigh again, another slow kiss, another scrape of teeth, sharp enough to make you shiver. But she doesn’t move higher. Doesn’t give you what you need. She just stays there, teasing, waiting, watching, until you feel like you might start shaking apart from the sheer frustration of it.

“Jill—”

She presses a little harder, lips curving against your skin. “You’re so impatient.”

It’s unbearable. She’s unbearable. The way she moves, the way she touches you, the way she makes it seem like she’s taking her time not because she wants to tease you (though she does, obviously, and she’s thriving on it), but because this is a luxury. Because she enjoys this too much to rush it.

Her hands slide higher, fingertips ghosting over your hips, then pressing in, grounding you, keeping you there as she finally—finally—gives you what you want. The noise that leaves your mouth is embarrassing, and Jill—predictably—loves it.

“Thought you wanted me to take my time,” she murmurs, lips brushing against you, voice thick with amusement.

You can’t answer. You can’t do anything but take it, let her pull you apart, let her make you feel so good you forget whatever point you were trying to make in the first place.

She’s so good at this. It’s a problem. It’s always been a problem. The way she never hurries, never breaks rhythm, never seems like she’s doing anything particularly special, and yet somehow still leaves you shaking, clinging to the sheets, unable to think straight.

Jill, of course, is entirely unaffected by your predicament. Smug, but not in a way that needs to be spoken aloud. She just keeps going, lazily, almost idly, like she has all the time in the world. Like she’s going to take you apart piece by piece, keep you teetering on the edge until she decides you’ve earned it.

She always does this. Always stretches it out just long enough to make you desperate, to make you half-crazed with need. You know what she’s doing. You always know what she’s doing.

And you always let her do it.

[utilitycaster]

Would you be willing to share more about this campaign playing into the weaknesses of Matt, Marisha, Laura, and Liam. I guess specifically, what are the main weaknesses youre seeing and how do you think the campaign exacerbated them?

If you’ve answered this already sorry!!!

In short:

Matt is extremely good at following his players' instincts and making the world feel like it is continuing to spin even when the characters aren't focusing on it. He is actually pretty bad at guessing what the players will do until quite late in the game (sorry man you should have realized the Augen Trust plot was dead from like, at the latest, episode 12, and it's WILD that you didn't anticipate Keyleth being on speed dial would be like, a factor) and at longform railroading (especially when that requires him to bypass the long digressions a character-focused arc), and he is VERY bad at saying no or bringing down the axe. It's always good to be a kind person, and it's frequently good to be a nice person in real life, but niceness in storytelling sucks ass. So he tried to run a very heavily plotted campaign without putting a heavy enough hand on the scale, failed to handle a very aimless party, and pulled pretty much every single punch.

Marisha tends to have pretty loose character concepts. This isn't bad, but it does mean that they need to be either very driven, or for the narrative to force them to be driven, for them to be interesting. Keyleth has her Aramente and her need to become a leader. Beau's mentorship from Dairon and her close relationships with the rest of the Mighty Nein and her general curiosity led her to get involved with all kinds of messes, even though the actual backstory of her plot was largely handled without her (again, another way to look at this is C1 and C2 played to these people's strengths). But she often has these gaps that feel like she stopped character development midway through. Laudna is obviously the most egregious (the ten years in the desert is honestly hilarious in how bad it is) but think about how Patia was so utterly defined by family position - and did a good job with that! the scene where she addresses her grandfather is a highlight! - but Marisha never once had even the barest outline of her parents designed. Like that's a pretty massive oversight for a character you describe as a Kennedy! Her whole deal is who her family is! And so by making a go with the flow character but also giving that character a horrible traumatic backstory that she was not, ultimately, really over, she made an incoherent mess.

Laura excels with quiet background development and a lot of room to play with character dynamics without necessarily being in the hot seat. She is, by her own admission, afraid of making the wrong decisions in the D&D game. This is not how D&D works. You make choices. If you fail to make choices it will be boring. Vex can choose to join Saundor or not, but neither of these is The Right Choice, it's just a choice you make that has (here is the word that much of the fandom is too stupid to understand) consequences, as all choices do. If she joins with him she gets a boon, but also a drawback. If she doesn't, he attacks her viciously both physically and emotionally. So anyway Imogen was put in a position of having to make a lot of decisions but without a real time pressure either, and Laura's hesitance to do this as a character positioned as The Chosen One meant that the entire story was just a slog of a bunch of idiots with no plan or philosophy other than the basest self-interest. Imogen's introversion and unwillingness to branch out especially early on is also true to the character but really goes against Laura's own strengths with the more outgoing and gregarious Vex and Jester (or even characters willing to say weird or mean shit like Arlo, the Matron, Sweetpea. and Bethany).

Liam is also at times too nice for his own good and won't go against his friends (Caleb in particular was a great example of the character concept canceling out Liam's weakest tendencies; just as Bells Hells in many case played to people's greatest weakness, though in Laura's case it was not her fault, the Nein played to many of their greatest strengths). To be clear: being a hostile asshole at the table is bad, but if you have clearly said for a hundred odd episodes that you won't let people go forward with this plan, then when they go forward with this plan, stand up and fight. If you have said that service to the Raven Queen and an acceptance of death is important, then frankly, your friend wishing their character had a happier ending is a valid thing to feel but you are not obligated to sacrifice your own meaningful ending to give them theirs. I don't know what happened behind the scenes there, but it certainly doesn't inspire faith.

[fandom-susceptible]

I have literally been thinking about this for days. Even after she says "I'm your daughter" in the cursed realm, she always calls him by name once they get back to the real world. He clearly remembers their conversation from the cursed one, but does he ever start doubting it because she never acknowledges this moment?

They've obviously both been holding back about this for a long-ass time. In Bloodmoon Huntress, Ethari suggests they could become a family literally the day she moves in; she accepts the idea of a second chance at it by the end of the book, but she still calls them by name up until this specific moment.

I think it's also important that it's Runaan she does this with, and not Ethari. Ethari has been embracing their familial bond the entire time they've lived together; he's been comfortable with this in a way that Rayla and Runaan clearly are not.

It makes me wonder what Runaan and Ethari's family lives were like. Do they have siblings? Runaan has really intense only child energy, ngl, but Ethari is someone's younger brother, I would guess (possibly a middle child). What were their relationships with their parents like? What were their relationships with Tiadrin and Lain like, that they were close enough to them to be a part of Rayla's life from birth but that she and Runaan were so distant when she moved in, and she'd never been to their house?

How long have they seen each other as father and daughter? Does it all come back to that moment in Bloodmoon Huntress when Rayla is facing death for the first time? She calls out for Ethari as the only adult she trusts, and Runaan is the one who saves her life? Which is called back to with this moment in Season 6, when he's facing eternity in the coin, and she saves him because this time she does trust him to be there for her?

And then on that note, Runaan stops hesitating after this moment. He claims Rayla as his daughter every chance he gets in season 7, to the point of being willing to fight his entire village over her. But Rayla doesn't. What's going on in her head that causes her to hesitate again? And how much is the lack of reciprocation sitting in Runaan's head?

Ugh I need so much more exploration of the Moonfam and their family dynamics, and I want these two emotionally constipated ex-assassins to get over themselves because I want to hear Rayla get the healing of calling him "Dad" and knowing it's no disrespect to Lain. Besides, Ethari already has the title "Papa" built into his character from the Pride Papa Ethari moment in the show, so there'd be no confusion with him either.

I know we loved Runaan calling Rayla his daughter, but you think we're going to get her calling him Dad?

👉👈

[someonegoood]

THE CORPORATE EQUATION chapter 5 ✫ jeon jungkook

as the office buzzes with gossip about the growing tension between you and Mr. Jeon, jealousy makes its way into the workplace when Minseok starts showing more interest in you.

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

miiini taglist @haru-jiminn @parapiop7 @radcustoms @minniejim @jeonzll @vantelover1306 @bgfdcvbnjk @mar-lo-pap @lmaothv @jksusawife @thatgirliehan @rayyrayy10 @lovingkoalaface <3

❀ chapter five: the corporate ball

The office was abuzz with whispers and stolen glances as you walked in, clutching your coffee and scanning the room. The tension between you and Mr. Jeon had not gone unnoticed, and the rumors had only intensified after the gala invitation had arrived in everyone's inboxes.

Soojin smirked as you sat down beside her. "So, we're going together?" she asked, nudging your arm playfully.

You sighed, setting your coffee down. "I mean, I don’t really have a choice."

Dohyun leaned in from across the table. "Maybe Mr. Jeon will make another grand gesture. That speech he gave about you in the meeting? Damn, even I felt special."

Your face warmed at the memory. Just earlier that morning, Jungkook had stood before the entire company, recognizing your contributions in front of the executive board. It was a small thing, but the way he had looked at you—like you mattered beyond the workplace—left something lingering in your chest.

“This company thrives because of the people behind it,” he had said, his dark eyes scanning the room before landing on you. “And no one has exemplified that more than the head of HR.”

Murmurs had rippled through the conference room, colleagues turning to glance at you with curiosity and admiration. You had felt Minji nudge your side, her smirk teasing, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Jungkook.

The acknowledgment had caught you off guard, especially given how distant he had been lately. After the white lilies, he hadn’t so much as met your gaze in passing, hadn’t sought you out like he used to. But in that moment, standing at the front of the room, it was like no one else existed. The weight of his words settled in your chest, making it hard to breathe.

You groaned. "Why does everyone suddenly care about my life?"

Minho chuckled. "Because it’s the only thing more entertaining than our actual jobs."

Soojin, ever the fashion enthusiast, had insisted on helping you get ready. She dragged you to her apartment after work, laying out a selection of elegant gowns she had picked out specifically for you.

"You need something that makes everyone regret ever breathing near you," she declared dramatically, holding up a sleek black dress with a thigh-high slit.

"I'm not dressing for someone," you scoffed, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

"Sure," Soojin said, rolling her eyes. "Now, try this on."

After much debate, you settled on a deep emerald gown that hugged you in all the right places. It was sophisticated, with just enough allure to leave an impression. As Soojin curled your hair, she smirked. "Something says to me that our boss is on your mind."

You groaned. "Not helping."

By the time you arrived at the venue, the grand ballroom was breathtaking. Chandeliers sparkled above, casting a warm golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. As you stepped inside, the HR team fanned out, leaving you momentarily alone.

Jungkook was already there, standing beside his father, mother, and brother, looking as polished as ever in his tailored black suit. His presence was magnetic, even as he maintained his usual aloof composure.

His father took the stage first, clearing his throat before addressing the employees. "Tonight, we celebrate not only our company’s success but the people who make it thrive. Enjoy the night—you’ve all earned it."

As the speech wrapped up, you felt a familiar gaze land on you. Jungkook was searching for you. When his eyes met yours, he didn’t hesitate. He crossed the room, ignoring the curious glances, and pulled you gently away from your conversation with the HR team.

"What are you doing?" you whispered as he led you toward the garden, away from the crowd.

Jungkook exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I needed a break. Too many people. Too much attention."

You studied him, noticing the way his fingers trembled slightly. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. "You’re doing fine."

He let out a small chuckle, his shoulders loosening. "I don’t know how you always manage to make things easier."

For a few quiet moments, the two of you stood there, surrounded by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of music from the ballroom. When Jungkook finally seemed calmer, you stepped forward, fixing his tie. "Better?" you asked, smoothing out the fabric.

His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but then a wave of murmurs caught both your attention. Turning back to the ballroom, you realized that everyone was watching. The whispers were unmistakable—people thought you had come here as a couple.

Jungkook’s friends, Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung, wasted no time approaching. "So," Jimin drawled, a smirk on his lips. "When were you planning to tell us?"

Taehyung crossed his arms. "Not very CEO-like to keep secrets."

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling. "It’s not like that."

But no one seemed to believe him. Even his father, who had been skeptical of his leadership, was watching with intrigue from afar.

"She’s quite something," Taehyung murmured to Jungkook as he passed by. "Perhaps you should stop pretending you don’t see it."

As the murmurs around you grew louder, Jungkook straightened his tie, the moment between you slipping away as reality settled in. With a sigh, he glanced back toward the ballroom. "I should get back. Investors are expecting me."

You nodded, swallowing the strange pang of disappointment. "Right. And I should—"

"Go enjoy the night with your team," he finished for you, his voice softer. For a second, it almost seemed like he didn't want to leave, but then he took a step back, giving you one last look before turning toward the crowd.

You exhaled, smoothing down your dress before making your way back inside. The HR team had gathered near one of the tables, chatting excitedly about the event. Minji waved you over. "So… that looked intense. Care to share?"

Dohyun smirked, sipping his drink. "Yeah, because from where we were standing, it looked like the CEO and our beloved Head of HR snuck off for a romantic interlude."

Soojin nudged your arm. "You do realize the entire company is talking about this, right?" Her tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity in her gaze.

You rolled your eyes, picking up a flute of champagne from the table. "We just needed some air. That’s all."

Minji raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And that’s why he looked at you like—"

Before she could finish, you were interrupted by a voice from behind.

"Hey, I was hoping we could talk?" You barely had time to react before Minseok appeared. He placed a hand on your arm, leaning in too close for comfort. Irritation flared inside you. With a firm step back, you shook him off. "I’m not interested, Minseok."

Minseok was a senior employee in the finance department, well-regarded for his sharp analytical skills and strategic thinking. However, his reputation was often overshadowed by his overly competitive nature and condescending attitude.

Meetings with him were a battlefield—pointed remarks, veiled criticisms, and constant power plays. He never missed an opportunity to challenge your decisions, and you never backed down from standing your ground. Despite the friction, there was an underlying tension, an almost begrudging respect neither of you acknowledged out loud.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had a complicated dynamic with Minseok. While he never directly challenged Jungkook, his subtle attempts to undermine decisions didn’t go unnoticed.

Meanwhile, Jungkook stood among a group of high-profile investors, his father beside him while you were struggling. The conversation had momentarily shifted from company expansion to something far more personal.

“She’s quite something," his father remarked, a knowing glint in his eyes. "Perhaps you should stop pretending."

Jungkook exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t respond immediately, instead glancing toward you across the room. But before he could process his father’s words, the discussion pivoted back to business, forcing him to engage with the investors once more.

It wasn’t until a few moments later, mid-conversation, that something caught his eye—Minseok, standing too close to you, his grip on your wrist lingering despite your clear discomfort. Jungkook’s entire body tensed.

Without another thought, he cut off the investor’s sentence with a curt, "Excuse me." He was already moving before anyone could question it, his strides purposeful as he made his way toward you.

Minseok’s grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly as he led you away from the main ballroom, his voice laced with false charm. "Just a quick chat," he insisted, though the warning bells in your mind were already blaring.

"Minseok, let go," you said firmly, attempting to pull back, but he barely loosened his hold.

"Come on," he coaxed, leading you further into a secluded hallway where the hum of the gala faded into the distance. "We used to be good colleagues. You don’t have to act so cold."

Your pulse quickened. "I have nothing to say to you. And I don't appreciate being dragged away like this."

Minseok’s smile wavered, frustration creeping into his expression. "You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Just because Jeon favors you?"

Before you could snap back, a voice sliced through the air like a blade.

"Let. Her. Go."

Minseok barely had time to turn before Jungkook stormed forward, his usually composed demeanor now laced with fury. His gaze flickered from Minseok’s grip on you to your face, scanning for any sign of distress. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Minseok scoffed, though there was an unmistakable flicker of fear in his eyes. "This is none of your business, CEO Jeon. We were just talking."

Jungkook’s voice was dangerously calm. "You were forcing her into a conversation she didn’t want to have. That makes it my business."

Minseok released you abruptly, but Jungkook wasn’t done. He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a lethal whisper. "You’ve been a liability to this company for too long—your performance is mediocre, your attitude is worse, and now you’ve crossed the line. You’re fired. Effective immediately."

Minseok’s face twisted in shock. "You can’t—"

"I just did." Jungkook’s glare was unwavering. "Security will escort you out. Try anything else, and you’ll regret it."

Minseok opened his mouth, but one look at Jungkook’s steely expression had him thinking twice. He turned on his heel, storming off without another word.

The tension didn’t leave your body immediately. Your breath was still uneven, your heart pounding. Jungkook exhaled sharply before turning to you, his voice softer now. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. He reached out, his fingertips brushing over your wrist—the same spot Minseok had gripped. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," you assured, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.

Jungkook’s jaw tensed. "Let me take you back."

He led you outside, guiding you toward his car. The sleek black vehicle was familiar—you had been in it before, back when he insisted on giving you a ride to the airport. But this time felt different. You were nervous, not just from what had happened with Minseok, but from the quiet intensity in Jungkook’s demeanor.

The drive back to the office was silent, the air thick with unspoken words. When you arrived, Jungkook opened the passenger door for you and walked you inside, leading you straight to his office.

Once inside, he let out a breath, running a hand through his hair before turning to you. "I don’t know what this is," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But I know I don’t want to see you with someone like him."

Your breath hitched, your heart hammering in your chest. "Jungkook—"

His gaze softened, something unguarded slipping through. "You’re not just good for this company, you’re good for me."

A slow smile spread across your lips as you leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow in playful disbelief. "Does this mean the grumpy CEO actually likes me?" You couldn’t resist, your voice dripping with teasing. "And your ex?"

His lips twitched, a barely-there smile betraying the usual scowl that defined his demeanor. Amusement flickered in his eyes, but he fought it down, his tone rough and clipped. "Shut up."

You opened your mouth to deliver another jab, but the words died in your throat as he took a step forward. The air around you seemed to change, charged with an unspoken tension. He moved with a purpose, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

Before you could process what was happening, he closed the distance, one hand gently but firmly cupping your jaw. His thumb brushed the edge of your lip as his lips came down on yours. The kiss was not the desperate, rushed kind you had imagined; it was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment he’d waited for just as much as you had.

Time seemed to stretch in that space between breaths. The world around you faded away. No business meetings, no unresolved drama, just the heat of his kiss and the way his hand slid around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t stand to be apart for another second.

You felt a small flutter of uncertainty, a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind, but it quickly dissolved under the weight of his touch. This wasn’t about your teasing, nor his ex—it was something real, something undeniable. The kiss deepened, soft but full of a promise you weren't sure you were ready for, but couldn’t resist.

When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your lips tingling with the aftermath. You blinked up at him, still processing the sudden shift. He gazed down at you, a faint grin curling at the corners of his mouth, though his eyes remained serious.

"Next time," he murmured, voice low and gravelly, "don’t think you can get away so easily with teasing me."

You smiled, heart racing in your chest. "I’m not sure you want me to stop."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, the faintest trace of warmth in his usually guarded expression. "That’s what I thought."

And as his hands found yours, pulling you back into his embrace, you realized there was a lot more between the two of you than just words.

previous / next

[kashverse]

Hi! I don’t know if you’ve seen but there’s like cats reacting to the meow version of Creep by Radiohead :D how would Mr. Pickles and Baby react?

i don't know what is the meow version of it so i just came up with my own version of it ☆ kunafamily masterlist

it is an unusual evening in the sukuna household. not because babykuna is wreaking havoc. not because sukuna is having another existential crisis over her growing up too fast. not even because choso is here—choso is always here. no, this time, the cause of disturbance is something else entirely. choso, self-proclaimed ambassador of alternative rock, has taken it upon himself to introduce the feline representatives of the household to what he considers a modern classic.

the meow version of creep by radiohead.

he sits cross-legged in the living room, phone in hand, speakers at full volume. the room is silent except for the first melancholic “meow.” mr. pickles' whiskers twitch. baby’s tail stops flicking, going eerily still.

the trial has begun.

as the song begins, mr. pickles exhales. not a normal sigh—a sigh burdened with decades of wisdom.

"oh, this again."

his tired, half-lidded gaze shifts toward baby, the young, impulsive, emotionally volatile tabby sitting beside him.

baby is tense. his fur bristles. his ears flatten just slightly, the universal cat sign for offense. mr. pickles doesn’t need to look at him twice to know exactly what’s happening in his head.

"he did not just exhale like that. he did not just disrespect radiohead in my presence."

baby’s claws flex against the floor, kneading out frustration that only a cat snubbed can feel. mr. pickles knows this tension well. it is the tension between an old cat who has seen everything and a young cat who thinks everything is revolutionary. mr. pickles ignores him. he has been on this earth for far too long to engage with a radiohead purist. he chooses peace. he closes his eyes.

baby, however, chooses violence. his tail lashes against mr. pickles’ side. a direct challenge. mr. pickles does not react. but in his mind, he is already thinking, “this kid has no sense of musical history.”

as the first chorus hits, baby visibly tenses.

"but i'm a creep, i'm a weirdo, what the hell am i doin' here?"

it is as if something has awakened deep within his soul. he yeowls. loud. raw. guttural.

a cry that carries the weight of every lost midnight zoomie session, every betrayal when a door was closed before he could enter a room, every ignored demand for food. he is the creep. he is the weirdo.

his butt wiggles.

mr. pickles does not react. baby kneads the floor aggressively, eyes shiny with emotion.

mr. pickles does not react. baby turns to him, expecting validation.

mr. pickles is........asleep.

baby stares at the older cat in pure betrayal.

he nudges mr. pickles. no response. he nudges harder. still nothing. he lets out a small, scandalized chirp.

"you fell asleep?"

mr. pickles, without opening his eyes, flicks his tail dismissively.

"the 70s did it first. when albert hammond and mike hazlewood released ‘the air that i breathe.'"

baby gasps. the ultimate disrespect. he huffs, whipping his tail aggressively before marching away to sulk—dramatically, of course. choso, completely oblivious to the musical war that has just taken place, simply shrugs.

“guess they liked it.”

a/n: how old is mr. pickles really????