#and i wanted to root this thing to be able to manage my apps better but the verizon guy didn't let me do the system transfer at home :/

[nexus-nebulae]

why are phones made to treat people like children now. i spent a thousand dollars on this damn thing. let me choose my own settings goddammit

[secfics]

my favourite starker fics, part 2

hi. for my second reclist in this blog, i put together more starker fanfics that i’ve been discovering lately and have made their way into my personal list of favourites that i re-read again and again. in no particular order and with some cw/dark themes here and there, here they come:

• pete’s eats; by bloodgutsandstarbucks (ao3) aka @darker-soft-starker, Teen and Up, 9’3k, oneshot

Peter having a YouTube channel where he just drinks wine and teaches people how to cook things if they live in a mediocre apartment. While cooking and drinking he just talks about stuff like memes and school and, most importantly, his undying thirst for Tony Stark.

• naturally; by ursafootprints (ao3) aka @ursafootprints, E, 16’3k, 3/3 chapters

"Mr. Stark," Peter whispered for the third time, his voice now airless where it had previously been rough from sleep. "Are you okay?"

Mr. Stark's thumb was slowly tracing back and forth over Peter's temple, but it stopped its trek as he finally took a deep breath, the first sign that he was really hearing what Peter was asking.

Voice rough with something other than sleep, Mr. Stark said, "No," and leaned in to kiss him.

Or: Unbeknownst to Peter, Tony gets dosed with sex pollen (sex serum?) on a mission, so he's nothing but thrilled when all his wet dreams about Mr. Stark suddenly start coming true-- until the morning after.

this app won’t let me add links to all of the titles for no reason so i’ll add extra links after the summary of the ones i wasn’t able to, here is the link:

• you’re not yet done; by ursafootprints (ao3) aka @ursafootprints, E, 166’7k, 14/14 chapters - cw: rape, bad guys made them do it

Tony didn't know what it would do to either of them, to play this out like a shadow cast by the real thing, real love and sex and intimacy. But it was what Peter was asking him for, so he did it.

In the aftermath of a traumatic abduction by a villain, Tony and Peter have to cope with their not-entirely-in-sync coping mechanisms, concerned family and friends, figuring out who exactly really arranged the whole thing, and their evolving feelings for each other.

link:

• the leash; by downjune, M, 30’2k, 2/2 chapters

Peter didn’t know if they talked to anyone else who carried them, but when he had the Infinity Gauntlet tucked under his arm, he could swear the stones were trying to…commune with him. They wanted something from him. Wanted to be used. He wanted to be rid of them.

Until he found Tony Stark leaned against some torn up tree roots and rock. He found Tony dying.

At that point, Peter was ready to bargain.

• velvet elvis; by orphan_account, M, 45’7k, 7/7 chapters

Peter just wants Tony to feel comfortable in Peter's new home. That's it. He totally has no ulterior motives whatsoever. Nope.

link:

• practical results; by anonymous aka ‘is this thing (an)on?’ tag, M, 81’4k, 12/12 chapters - cw: dubious consent/bad guys made them do it

This isn’t his bedroom - not the one at the compound, or the suite in Milan. Definitely not the penthouse in New York. In all honesty, it looks like the inside of the fucking Spaceship Earth ride at Epcot.

“Kid,” he tries again, more urgently now, “where the hell are we?”

“Uhh, the guy said we’re someplace called Sakaar.”

“The guy? What guy?”

Let's say that after the uprising on Sakaar, the Grandmaster manages to cling to power by offering people an even better form of entertainment than the Contest of Champions: Porn. He offers them porn.

• rebuild; by tuesday (ao3) aka @everysecondtuesday, Teen and Up, 14’7k, oneshot

Tony lives, falls in love despite himself, and spends entirely too much time in California.

• in the hands of gods; by therogueheart (ao3) aka @therogueheart, E, 20’2k, oneshot

Peter has known nothing but the God Stark his entire life. The blessings he gives; and the cruelty he can deal. When Peter comes of age he must begin the next phase of his worship to the God - Sexuality.

But Peter has never been good at following rules, and he does the one thing that no man is permitted to do.

He touches.

link:

• expiration date; by learnedfoot (ao3) aka @learned-foot, E, 12k, oneshot

Tony knows exactly what this is. First big breakup, go for a fling with a completely inappropriate person. It’s basically a cliché. He kind of thought Peter was better than that, but apparently being brilliant and one of the bravest people on the face of the planet doesn’t mean he’s immune from being a stupid college student who makes stupid college student mistakes.

AKA Tony is sure this is just a fling, and he deals with that about as well as you’d expect.

link:

• the last five years; by orphan_account, M, 71’1k, 9/9 chapters

Tony Stark has spent the last six months trying to find a way to bring back those lost in The Snap, but when he succeeds and Peter Parker and the rest of the lost Avengers return he discovers that it has been a little bit longer for them.

• prototype protocol; by roamingsignals (ao3) aka @spider-mancan, E, 82’8k, 8/8 chapters

Tony Stark isn't good, despite years of trying. When the multiverse dumps a younger Tony into their laps, Tony is split between solving the problem and protecting Peter's virtue.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s eyes are wide and unassuming and Tony is a bad man. “I’ve been handling you for years. I can handle him just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” Tony's throat is really dry, for some reason. “I trust you.”

He just doesn’t trust himself. He doesn’t trust himself at all.

link:

• the friendly neighborhood; by postelectric, M, 22’9k, oneshot

“Mr. Stark?”

Before Tony looks, he hopes to every god whose hand he’s shaken that he’ll meet an uncanny Parkeresque-but-definitely-not-the-real-Peter Parker doppelganger who just happens to know who he is. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. It’s not impossible. Tony saved the universe. Most people know him, even with the giant face scar. Maybe because of the giant face scar.

It’s the real Peter Parker. He’s barely taller than he was at sixteen and he has pretty much the same amount of hair, but he’s got more in the shoulders and jawline these days. “Mr. Parker. You grew up.”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “That, uh, that happens sometimes, if you’re lucky.”

“You got lucky.”

(or, in which the friendly neighborhood spider-man from queens doesn't become an avenger and doesn't turn to dust. or, in which tony stark restores the universe for pepper potts and then lives to tell about it, which is not according to plan.)

link:

• permission; by cagestark (ao3) aka @cagestark, E, 15’8k, 5/5 chapters

During drinks with the Avengers, Peter admits that he enjoys orgasms more when someone is giving him permission, though since he's single, there isn't anyone in his life to offer it.

Generous Tony offers to offer it.

link:

hope you like them as much as i did!

[daveout]

Money

Snooze-sza

4/24/24

8:26pm

I don't think money is the root of all evil as it’s portrayed, I think money is a buffer between you and what you want no different than cattle and goods when people used to barter. I think it's a tool, the problem is some people have power drills and others can only use their hands. I don't think it corrupts, I think with a lot of it you see the power you have over people that don't have it and your environment and if anything it just shows your actual character. The feeling of power that comes from money can come from other places to like management in low level jobs. That sense of superiority can cause the same arrogance and it's not because they are millionaires from being Lowes managers, they just have a better title, they have control over 8 hours of other people’s lives. Chefs use knives to cut food, murderers use knives to kill, a survivalist would use it to whittle sticks and make more tools, same tool, its use changing depending on who’s wielding it.

To me money is important as far as the ability to not only what i need but what i want (within reason, no crazy stuff). I want to travel, not in luxury, but I want to be able to afford museums, decent food and a coffee in the morning and not keep checking my bank app and strategizing how to make this $18 stretch. To be able to spend $20 a day and not have to rationalize living a very frugal next 2 months, which i do understand is how it works, and i've found a career that can afford me that financial comfort in the long run. 

My problem is even if you believe the world shouldnt run on money and exploring and eating shouldn’t cost an arm and a leg, you’ll still need money, and I do have to focus not solely on it, but I can't deny its necessity not only in getting what and where I want, but in overall well being, allow me to explain.

The ability to have no financial stress, no bills that torture you in your relaxed hours, no locking your card before apple takes your payment reduces stress. You have the opportunity to remove yourself from the outside stress. If all of your financial needs are met, you have the time to call off from work and figure out what you actually want, the time to try a new hobby and experiment and figure yourself out instead of thinking, “I  could have just gone to work.” In the midst of financial distress, there aren’t too many people prioritizing themselves and a lot of people are in that predicament, but I personally would like to avoid that and get off my hamster wheel as soon as possible. Of course you don’t need money to be happy, as long as your basic necessities are met, and I do appreciate the little things like coffee in the morning and I don't deprive myself of enjoyment because I’m not exactly where I see myself in 2-3 years yet. That being said, I plan to drive trucks to earn a decent amount to have a little trip every once in a while.

Daveout.

[realcube]

Hey I wanted to know if I could request how Hinata, Kenma, Atsumu and tsukki would react to you doing this trend 😳

Thanks and have a nice day :]

FILMING YOUR NAILS ON THEIR... yeah...

a/n ♡ i- it took me a solid minute to figure out what was going on..what even is that trend AGDFKBNDB on children’s app too smh 

trigger warnings ♡ gn! reader, erm dick touching?, all characters aged up, swearing, degradation, oral (giving), reader has acrylic nails on, filming, handjob, choking, slight hair pulling, facial — minors dni! 

ATSUMU MIYA got an adrenaline rush from it. every time you’d look up from your phone screen to meet his foggy gaze, he’d make it a  point to pull the corners of his lips up into a cocky smirk, as if to prove he was unfazed. however, his twitching legs and impatient tugging on your hair told a different story. as much as he wanted to think the adrenaline was from the risqué nature of what you were doing, there was a large possibility that it could be from anger as he’s never felt more pissed off than when he was forced to helplessly watch as you innocently mouthed the lyrics to the song while gently rubbing his tip through his sweatpants with your nail. call him aggressive, but all he wanted to do in that moment was whip it out and shove it in your dirty mouth to teach you a lesson. after all, you couldn’t just tease him like this and then leave him hanging. payback was in order and that’s exactly what he got as he used your throat as his personal fleshlight, aggravation only subsiding once he was finished shooting his load down you. the video you were filming was lost somewhere in the process though, but don’t worry! being the kind boyfriend he is, atsumu recorded the whole blowjob for you; effortlessly getting all the right angles, the perfect lighting and capturing all your little moans and whimpers clearly, which all came together to highlight how cute your precious face looked while sucking him off like a slut and it was no coincidence that every pretty vein on atsumu’s dick was in the frame either. 

KENMA KUZOME clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes at how much of a tease you were being. i mean, it was clear you were only doing this as an indirect way of asking to be railed; kenma understood the language you speak, or rather, don’t speak. his piercing eyes shifted off his computer screen to glare holes through the side of your head, which you desperately tried to ignore but that became impossible as he took your chin in between his index finger and thumb to force you to look up at him. “how many times have i told you? don’t be a brat. use your words to ask for what you want or you aren’t getting shit.” kenma only sighed through his nose as he watched your features fall to form an adorable pout. stubbornly, you continued making your little video, stroking and rubbing him even more simply out of spite. kenma thought he’d be able to continue to concentrate on what he was typing but it seemed as though every nerve in his body was focussed on the tempting sensations in his dick, so it was hardly surprising when a soft moan slipped passed his lips. but before you could laugh, he had grabbed you hand and pulled you up onto his lap, keeping a tight grip on your fingers, admiring them, “these are nice. who paid for them?” you sighed, rolling you eyes slightly before muttering, “you..” “mhm. and you’ve not paid me back yet.” you nodded, trying to get up so you could grab your purse but kenma’s hand immediately snapped to your waist to pull you back down. “don’t be stupid. i don’t need your money; you know what kind of payment i want.” you didn’t even get the chance to tease him for being a hypocrite and ask him to ‘use his words’ as he uttered in a low voice, “strip.”

KEI TSUKISHIMA was unsure as to how he got into this situation and why he allowed it. for a change, his concerns had nothing to do with trust — he fully believed that you wouldn’t post the video, since you promised that you’d keep it in your ‘my eyes only’ — he was more worried about the power you suddenly had over him. when you first suggested the idea, he agreed because he thought it was hot that you were so needy for him and he could tease you for it later, he really didn’t expect to get off from it. but here he was, sitting at his desk, unable to focus on the video playing on his phone as all his attention was on the gentle movements of your soft palm against his clothed, erect cock. his low cursing under his breath prompting you to drop your phone so you could use both hands to fiddle with the rim of his trousers, “want more, needy?” although he wasn’t too fond of the nickname, the serious yet lustrous look in your eyes told him everything he wanted. “sure, whatever.” he muttered, an involuntary gasp escaping his lips as you hastily tugged down his rims to wrap your nimble fingers around his girth, eagerly starting to jerk him off. gazing up at his red face and visibly frantic breathing, you couldn’t help but snicker, moving your fist even faster at the sight, “you’re so sensitive. when was the last time someone gave you any atten--” “shut up.” he groaned, detaching one of his hands from his face only so he could grip your neck. 

SHŌYŌ HINATA was a blushing mess. how he had gotten into his situation was a blur but currently, he was being palmed through his shorts for your silly video, while he helplessly sat and acknowledged the footsteps creeping closer and closer to the msby changing room. practise had ended ten minutes ago and hinata said he’d lock up for the night so you both thought you were in the clear, but as he stifled his moans to hear the footsteps better, he pried open his heavy lids to lay his eyes on bokuto’s duffle bag which hung directly opposite him. you were aware of bokuto slowly approaching too but unlike shōyō, you didn’t care. well, there was a large part of hinata that must not care either as his hands mindlessly ran down his chest to pull down his shorts, his member springing free so he could direct your hand towards it, “go on.” he urged, biting down harshly on his bottom lip as he peered down at your innocent eyes shaded by your gorgeous lashes, “baby, c’mon. hurry.” there was the slightest bit of hope in hinata’s mind that, if you were quick, perhaps you could make him climax before bokuto arrived. there was many thing he failed to take into consideration with this plan as he thought with his dick rather than his mind, but being kind partner you are, you went along with his demand without a second thought. keenly, you bobbed your fist, only being encouraged by the groans falling from his lips and how his hands slipped into your hair, tugging on your roots. being as sensitive as he was after a long day of practise and with the rapid pace you were going at, his plan came to fruition as he managed to arrive at his high before bokuto walked in. just as you both were about to start celebrating, you heard the rattling of the changing room doorknob, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you locked the door prior, bokuto would’ve stepped into the room and been greeted by the sight of you on your knees with a facial and hinata’s face painted a bright red color, with his sweaty chest and back pressed flush against the wall.

[collecting-stories]

She’s Kinda Hot - Sarah Cameron

Request: omg i really wish i could write but, can you do one with sarah and kind of like kie reader(rich but hang out with the pogues)where they are enemies and are stuck together for a project and the reader keeps annoying sarah to make her mad and the reader tells sarah she’s hot when she’s mad and then they end up getting together or something. sorry this is really long this is also my first time requesting so i’m kinda new lo

A/N: I really freaking love Sarah Cameron. That is all. Enjoy the fic. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Sarah was pretty sure that there was one of those personal rain clouds hanging directly over her head as she sat in math class with you. Who even assigned school projects in math class? Wasn’t that kind of thing reserved for english or science? But no, her math teacher...your math teacher...decided that a project to highlight Women in Math was a brilliant idea for Women’s History Month and, in an even greater stroke of genius, she stuck Sarah and you together as partners. It was all your fault really, that was all Sarah kept thinking as she stared across the classroom at the side of your head. That if you hadn’t walked into class late, in the middle of assignments, Sarah would’ve ended up with the next person alphabetically behind Cameron. Instead, she was stuck with you. 

“Why don’t we just split the assignment into parts and then put it together at the end?” Sarah suggested, after the bell rang and she managed to chase you down the hall of the kook academy to your locker.  

“Why not just work together?” You replied, shrugging a shoulder as if it shouldn’t be the worst thing that could ever happen to Sarah to be paired together for the project.

“I’d rather not.”

“Cause you broke up with me-”  

Sarah hushed you immediately, covering your mouth with her hand and looking back and forth down the crowded hallway. “You know what happened!”  

You pushed Sarah’s hand away and rolled your eyes, “well too bad princess, I need this grade so you’re gonna have to deal with seeing me.” You said, “everyday. After school.”  

“That’s bullshit,” Sarah snapped, following after you when you shut your locker and started down the hallway to your next class, “you do not need that fucking grade! You’re at like, the top of the class.”  

“Are you the teacher?” you asked, looking back at her. “Don’t worry Sarah, I promise I’ll stay six feet away and I won’t try to tempt you. Wouldn’t want anyone to find out you’re into girls.” You said, whispering the last part so only she could hear it.  

Sarah stopped in her tracks, watching you walk the rest of the way to your class. She wanted to scream after you, that wasn’t the reason. That wasn’t why she’d totally annexed you from her life. It wasn’t just that she knew this project was going to get her in deep shit, it was that she was one hundred percent positive that she would not be able to work with you without letting her feelings get the better of her.  

It wasn’t like the kook academy was a big place, there wasn’t exactly room to avoid you completely, but Sarah had done a pretty decent job so far. Even when the two of you crossed paths in class, and it happened more than Sarah would’ve preferred, she managed to keep herself away from you. At least until now, she was stuck with you as her partner for some ridiculous math project. She’d been banking on you wanting as little to do with her as she tried to have with you but instead you seemed totally fine. Unbothered by everything that went down between the two of you.  

She thought about asking Kiara what she would do but Sarah could already hear her best friend telling her that she wasn’t going to take sides. Kiara was friends with both of you and the most advice she would ever offer was “I don’t get what happened between you two anyway”.  

No, asking Kiara wouldn’t work. Sarah would have to resign herself to this project. She could this. It was just a three-week project. She could survive three weeks with you.  

“Hey, if I get lunch, what’d’ya want?” You asked, hanging your head off of Sarah’s bed and holding your phone out so you could tap through your doordash app.  

Sarah wanted to scream, it was still half-way through the first week and you had been to her house three times in as many days, spending your after-school hours driving her crazy. She was pretty sure that you were doing this on purpose.  

“It’s almost 5:30,” Sarah replied, not looking up from her laptop, “I think lunch is over.”

“Dinner then.” You said.  

“No. I don’t want dinner.” She snapped, “and I don’t want lunch or whatever else...I just want to finish this project.”

“We’ve got like, two weeks left Sarah,” you pointed out, rolling over onto your stomach and looking at her across the room, “just chill out.”  

You knew you were pushing Sarah’s buttons but you couldn’t help it. When things between the two of you had gone bad, when she’d told you that it was over and, worse than that, it was a mistake, you had been heartbroken. There wasn’t a better word for it. You hated how upset you’d been after Sarah broke it off with you but when things settled, you couldn’t deny that there was still something there. Little looks, fleeting in the hallway, moments you caught her staring and you knew she caught you too. It felt like boiling tension, the same way it had before, when you’d gotten together.  

“Chill out?” She huffed, “you’ve been at my house all week driving me fucking nuts and now you tell me to ‘chill out’. No, you need to help me with this fucking project!”  

You sat up on the bed, unable to contain the smile as you looked over at Sarah, “god, I totally forgot how insanely hot you are when you’re pissed off.”  

Sarah tossed her pencil across the room at you, “will you knock it off. You always pull this shit with me.”

“What shit?” You almost laughed, “you’re the one who told me that dating was an ‘accident’ and you were ‘confused about your feelings’. What am I doing, exactly, to pull shit with you? If anything, Sarah, you leading me on was pretty much exactly that.”  

“I wasn’t leading you on.” She groaned, flicking her hair over her shoulder the way she always did when she was pissed with something someone said to her. “What was I supposed to do anyway?” She said, voice dropping lower so no one would hear her. You might’ve been in her closed bedroom but if there was one thing you’d learned about Tanny Hill it was that someone was always listening. “Do you know what my family would do if they found out?”

“Found out that you were dating...basically a pogue? Or dating a girl?” You deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at her in question. You knew what the answer was. Sarah had been trying to live up to every expectation that Ward set for her from the moment she was born. She was always trying to make up for Rafe or Wheezie doing something to upset him by making sure she never did. And while other people dating whoever they wanted was totally fine with him, his favorite daughter, his pride and joy, dating a girl...maybe if it’d been Wheezie a few years down the line. But not Sarah, who was supposed to date a rich kook and go to UNC and marry the same rich kook and they could have a couple kids and buy a big house near his. He’d been planning it all out for her since before she was born and you had thrown a wrench in that plan.  

“It’s a delicate subject.”

“No,” you laughed and shook your head, “your dad’s a total homophobe. What’s he got against two super-hot girls dating each other?”

“When one of them is his daughter, I don’t think it’s at the top of his approved list.” She replied. “We should be working on this project anyway...I want a good grade and so do you.”

“Sarah-”

“No. Cause you’ll say something that you know I wanna hear and then you’ll do the stupid slow walk over to my chair and put your hands on the arm rests and I’ll be totally defenseless and then I’ll do something I totally regret...like kissing you.” Sarah said, “or letting you kiss me.”

“You’d totally regret it if we kissed?” You asked. “Positive?”

“Yes I’m positive.”

“We could test it out? Just to make sure?”

“No.”  

You shrugged, grabbing your math text off the bed and setting it on your lap again, “okay, I guess we should get back to work then.”

“What?” Sarah almost sounded shocked and really she shouldn’t have been. She should’ve known when the teacher put the two of you together for the project that this was exactly where she would end up at some point within the three weeks. Though really, she’d held out a lot longer than she ever thought she would be able to. “That’s it? You’re just going back to the project?”

“You said that’s what you wanted to do.”

She groaned and tugged at the roots of her hair for a second before looking at you, “you are the most frustrating, annoying, dense person in the entire world and I cannot believe that we-”

While she reamed you out, you had put your book aside and gotten up, going over to her and doing exactly what she said you would. You put your hands on the armrests of her desk chair and you leaned in and kissed her mid-sentence. “Is that what I was supposed to do?” You asked, pulling away just enough to see her face.  

Sarah wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you toward her and forcing you to stabilize yourself with a knee on the side of her leg, practically sitting on her lap. “Something like that.” She finally said, “though I would’ve appreciated a little warning.”

“Oh, sorry, you seemed stressed,” you replied, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to help you relax.”

“Is stressed the word?” She joked, tension melting as she brushed her nose against yours. She leaned forward so your foreheads were touching, her eyelashes just ghosting a touch on your cheeks when she closed her eyes for a split second.  

“Extremely hot? Sexy...a major turn on.” You joked, kissing her again. “God, imagine if you’d been paired with like...Topper for this? You’d be kissing him right now.”

“Stop trying to ruin the moment and kiss me.” Sarah laughed.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Don’t Worry - Harry Styles

a/n: i’m so excited about this!!! this fic is my take on the song Don’t Worry by The 1975 for @harrystylescherry ‘s Playlist fic challenge! it took me a lot longer to finish this one, mostly because i chose to write about a topic that’s painfully close to my heart and life and i hope to help those of you who are struggling with similar problems. it’s a touchy subject and i really hope i can at least help just for a little by putting this piece out! also, huge thanks to Nat for this challenge and i can’t wait to read all the other fics!!

warning: eating disorder, lots of self-hatred but even more fluff and love!

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip a little harder than they should, it’s starting to feel painful but you don’t even realize. You’re way too fixated on the Instagram post in front of you, swiping through the same four pictures over and over again, crippling anxiety crawling up your spine, clouding your every thought.

Oh how you wish you could say that you’re not the jealous type. Well, in a way, you are not. You don’t think your boyfriend would ever cheat on you or leave you, that’s just not him as a person. Your jealousy roots in your insecurities about your body and it creates more of a confusion in your head about why Harry, your boyfriend of three years is really dating you when he could have anyone, any model or super gorgeous singer, actress out there, yet he settled for… you.

Your thumb swipes across the screen again as you keep staring at the bikini photos Kendall Jenner has recently posted. She is stunning, the perfect model type with her long legs, skinny torso and snatched waist. Hell, she could make you question your sexuality on other days even, but today she is feeding your burning insecurities.

The thought that at one point in life, your boyfriend was with her makes you feel sick, because you are simply nothing like her. In every sense, you are what others like to call curvy, however you often use other terms, some not too nice ones on your worse days. Your hips are wide, holding quite some meat on them, your full thighs never heard of such thing as thigh gaps, not even when you were a kid. Your tummy brings you a headache sometimes when you want to wear something tight, the urge to hide it stronger than your fashion sense. It’s been ages since you last dared to step out of the house without a bra on, your full breasts always need the support if you don’t want them to sit a little lower on your chest than what you prefer. There are rolls, extra skin, stretch marks and all that jazz on your body and has been for a long time. No model looks like this and you are more than aware of that. But if your boyfriend can get any of them, why did he settle for you?

Tears are threatening to roll down your cheeks when you finally close the app and stop staring at Kendall’s perfect body. You ball your hands to stop them from shaking as you make your way to the bathroom in need of some freshening up. The cold water in your face feels nice, but the moment your eyes fall on your reflection you almost cringe at your own sight, as if it’s a reminder of everything you thought about in the past hour.

What is Harry doing with someone like me? The question keeps playing in your head on repeat and you wish you had a relevant answer, but your tainted thoughts keep bringing you back to the same point: He surely will realize it himself and leave me.

You try your best to shake it all off your mind, but it’s not easy. Sitting at the dining table you busy yourself with some work you brought home, hoping the files will keep your wandering thoughts at bay, however the attempt is not quite successful. And then you hear the front door open and close, followed by Harry’s sweet greeting.

“I’m home, baby!” he calls out and you can tell he is in a great mood just from his voice. You force your best fake smile to your lips, not wanting to ruin his mood with your petty party. He walks in, eyes falling on your sitting figure at the table and though you don’t know it, his heart flutters, like always, even after three years together.

Harry is obsessed with you, to say the least. Every little thing about you fascinates him, he loves everything about you, inside and out, just the way you are and he vowed to never stop telling you how much he adorns you.

“Hey there, wha’cha doin’?” he asks, kissing into your hair as he scans over the papers on the table.

“Oh, just… some extra work,” you shrug, chewing on your bottom lip again, the skin is about to break soon for sure.

“Baby, you work too much. Take some time off,” he tells you, shuffling around before he disappears in the bedroom for a moment before reappearing. “Fancy taking a bath with me?” he offers with a cheeky smile.

Bath, for that you’d have to be completely naked in front of him. That cannot happen in this state of mind.

“Um, I want to finish this. Maybe next time,” you tell him with a faint smile.

“You sure? I could massage your shoulders the way you like it so much, we could try that new bath salt we bought.”

“I really want to get this done, H. You just go and enjoy your bath,” you insist, the stern voice catches him a little by surprise.

“Everything alright baby?” His eyebrows pull together as he watches you from across the room.

“Mm, everything is fine. Just… working,” you tell him, eyes on the papers in front of you, pretending like you’re reading the lines, but in reality you have absolutely no idea what the words are saying. You hear him mumble a soft alright before he disappears again, leaving you alone.

A shaky breath leaves your trembling lips once you hear the water running in the bathroom. You bury your face in your palms, feeling so defeated and lost, the only thing that would comfort you would be Harry, but he cannot know what’s been going on in your head. He would never understand the struggle.

These thoughts usually only last for a few days. You always manage to forget about them eventually and return to normality, but not this time. Days turn into weeks and you find yourself sinking deeper into the hole you created for yourself. It starts to effect more parts of your life too. You’re having a hard time sleeping, always waking up several times during the night and sometimes you don’t even fall back asleep after one point. You lose your appetite, your mind tells you that you don’t need the nutritious food, that you need to lose the fat because that’s the only way you can keep Harry. You stop wearing your favorite clothes, always opt for the looser ones that hide every inch of your body and spend way too much time zoned out. You keep catching yourself completely lost in your thoughts during the day, thinking about how Harry might be comparing you to his exes every time he sees you, especially naked.

It’s been long since the last time you were intimate with Harry and you feel so bad for it, but you haven’t been able to bring yourself to bare your body in front of him. You always blew him off with some lame excuse and though there’s a chance he didn’t catch onto whatever was going on, now you know he is suspicious.

And you’re right. Harry notices every little thing, all the changes you’ve been going through. How you leave half your plate uneaten at dinner or how he finds you lying awake next to him in the middle of the night. He also notices how your favorite dresses and shirts remain untouched through the weeks even though you always wear them whenever you have the chance. Instead, he only sees you in big hoodies and loose pants, hiding the delicious curves of your body. But what truly pains him is how you’ve been ignoring all his tries to get close to you, the way you move away from his touch.

The last straw however happens on a Friday afternoon. You are sitting on the couch, mindlessly clicking through Netflix on the TV, trying to find something to watch when Harry is roaming through the cabinets in the bathroom, looking for the lotion he only uses when his skin feels extremely dry. He is going through every drawer and shelf, not finding what he is looking for, but then something odd catches his attention. Some weird named pills are sitting at the back of one of the shelves, hidden behind your perfumes so he hasn’t noticed it, but as he takes it out to have a better look at them, he almost throws them across the room. He has heard of similar pills before, they do more harm than help in weightloss, ruining your digestive system so badly you can actually get way more serious health problems if you use them too long. He frantically tears the box open and see that one third of the pills are gone, meaning that you’ve been taking them for a little while now behind his back.

With the box in his hand, he marches out to the living room where you are still and holding the pills up, he needs everything in him not to flip immediately.

“What the fuck are these?” he grits through his teeth. Your breath gets caught in your throat, he was never supposed to find those, but the cat’s out of the bad and now you can’t think of anything to bring up to your defense, knowing well he very much does not approve these kind of stuff.

“They are… I’m doing a cleanse,” you say, but there’s no use to lie.

“Drinking juice is for cleansing, this shit ruins your body,” he spats, throwing the box to the couch and you bite into your bottom lip, feeling the tears building up already. “Why would you even think about taking these?”

“Why?” you chuckle bitterly, your vision blurry from the tears. “Oh come on, don’t be so oblivious.”

“Y/N, these stuff are dangerous!” his anger turns into despair and concern as he sits beside you on the couch. “Baby, why did you take them?”

“Because I’m desperate, Harry!” you snap at him, the hot tears running down your cheeks. “You have no idea what I go through every fucking day!”

“Then talk to me! I want to know everything, I want to help you!” he pleads, reaching for your hand but you move away from him. “Please talk to me, baby!”

“So you can feed me lies? I’m not naïve, Harry,” you shake your head vigorously.

“What are you talking about?”

“Me! I’m talking about… this,” you growl gesturing at yourself. Harry runs his gaze down your body, but he still can’t figure out what this is about. You look beautiful, you always do in his eyes, he has no idea what the matter is. “I’m not one of your exes and all those models you’ve been rumored to date, Harry.”

“Okay and why is that relevant?”

“Because how am I the right person for someone like you? I’m not skinny, I’m not pretty and I’ll probably never be anything like the girls you dated. Why are you even wasting your time on me?”

By the time you get to the end, your tears are flooding and it breaks Harry’s heart to see you like this. Feeling so unworthy when in his eyes, you deserve everything. You’re perfect.

“I’m not wasting anything on you, baby. Why do you even want to look like them? I love every inch of your beautiful body!”

You flinch at his words. Deep down you know he means them, but there’s this barricade on your mind that tells you he is not serious, that he is only saying those things because he feels like he has to say them, not because he means them. That evil little voice in your head keeps telling you not to believe anything he says.

How could he love your body? How could a man like him be okay with someone like you? He doesn’t want to be with you. He’ll realize it and leave you!

You wish you could turn it off, you wish there was a switch that would shut out all these thoughts, but they just keep coming and coming. Harry watches you break right in front of his eyes and he has no idea what to do, panic is setting in. He feels like a failure that he let you reach this point.

“Baby, I fucking love you. Everything about you. Please don’t feel like you have to change for me. I love you no matter what, I think you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. If you want to change, do it because you want to do it for yourself! You don’t have to change for me!”

He is practically begging, desperate to get you to understand that you’re perfect to him just the way you are, that he is in love with every inch of your beautiful body. He reaches out to your face again and though you move away again and it pains him so much, he still goes through with the action and cups your face in his hand. His clammy palm meets your wet cheek as he turns your head so he can look into your eyes, but you are relentlessly keeping your gaze focused anywhere but him.

You can’t bear looking at him or yourself, you just want to disappear, vanish into nothing, existence right now feels like just too much.

“Love, please look at me,” he quietly begs and you shake your head no. “Please, let me see those beautiful eyes I love so much.”

You wince at his words and try to turn your head away, but he cups the other side of your face with his other hand, keeping it in place. Your eyes are wired shut, you just can’t look at him, it would break you.

Harry is kneeling next to the couch now where you are curled up, your arms wrapped around your knees as you try to hide yourself. You feel so lost, so miserable and you wish he didn’t see you like this.

“I can’t, Harry. I can’t,” you tell him shaking your head vigorously. Part of you feels so stupid for acting like this, but you just can’t help it. It’s not you anymore who is in charge of your mind and actions, you feel more like just a witness who sees herself from the outside and she doesn’t like what she sees, not even a bit.

Harry pushes himself up from the ground and takes the thick blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you as he shimmies himself next to you, arms wrapping around your frame as he pulls you to his chest, covering you with the warm blanket as if it was some kind of shield from the world and that’s exactly what you need. A hiding spot.

You let him pull you to him, face buried into his chest as you sob into his shirt, his strong arms holding you so tight, you feel like nothing can hurt you with his hold around you.

“I love you, baby. I really do. And when I tell you I find you gorgeous and that how pretty I think you are, that’s the truth. I love everything about you. Fell in love with you the first time I saw you and I’m not even joking. Please don’t ever think that you have to change for me.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about how I’m so different from the people you’ve dated,” you whimper shaking your head. His hands squeeze your upper arm as he kisses the crown of your head.

“Different is not bad, baby. I didn’t date my previous girlfriends because they looked the way they did. If I’m thinking about it, I should feel a little offended you think I’m so shallow to care about these stuff,” he jokes, earning a faint huff that’s somewhat a laugh from you.

“I just think that you’re not blind.”

“That is correct,” he chuckles. “I’m not blind, that’s why I find you so incredibly sexy.”

“I really don’t see how you can use the word sexy to describe me,” you mumble closing your eyes as a headache is starting to form from how hard you were crying just a minute ago.

“What do you think there is on you that I shouldn’t find attractive?” he prompts the question in all seriousness.

“Please don’t get me started because we’ll never get to the end of the list,” you huff bitterly. It might have come out as a joke but there’s just plenty of the truth behind your words.

“No, seriously. Tell me what you think I don’t find attractive on you,” he nags and you give up with a sigh.

“Okay, I… I have fat rolls on my stomach,” you start off with the first thing that’s on your mind.

“Everyone has them.”

“But not as big as mine. Yours aren’t as big as mine.”

“So what? I love your tummy. It’s soft, keeps your organs safe, especially the ones that will help us start a family at one point. For me, your tummy means that you are enjoying the wonderful foods of the world, that you are well and have a great appetite. I fucking hate it when girls are just poking around their salads, complaining about calories and all that stuff. Do you have any idea how much I enjoy watching you eat? I think it might be a fetish at this point,” he chuckles, making you laugh as you hide your face in his chest.

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why? I love it when you enjoy the food, I love trying new food with you, cooking with you, see you satisfied when you’re full, you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“Really?” you ask in a whisper.

“Absolutely. I love your tummy, it’s just even more of you to love on,” he hums kissing the top of your head. “Okay, what’s next?”

“I have so many stretch marks,” you whine with a scowl. “They are everywhere, on my thighs, my ass, my stomach, fucking everywhere!”

“I literally have nothing else to say than… I couldn’t care less. Honestly, most people have them, baby. It’s natural, your body is changing, it’s just trying to keep up with the pace. But you know what I’m looking forward to?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait till you have marks from pregnancy, Love,” he huffs dreamily and you can’t help, but smile at his words. “Those marks will be a reminder to me how much you’ve gone through for our family. I think those are just so wonderful.”

“Why are you linking everything with having babies?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks chuckling. “Because I can’t wait to have babies with you. I can’t wait to see you with a big belly, so I can love on you, take care of you and that our babies, I’m so excited for that.”

“You want all of that… with me?”

“Have I not made it clear to you?” he asks, looking down at you and moving your head your eyes finally meet his. “I’m not just saying all those things for nothing, Love. I see my future with you.”

Closing your eyes you let his words sink in and for the first time in a while, your mind is not trying to convince you that he is not telling you the truth.

“Okay, next,” he mumbles, his fingers dancing up and down your arm as he holds you tight.

“My boobs are weird,” you say out loud, cringing at your own words. You hate talking about this.

“Excuse me? What’s wrong with my girls?” he gasps, making you laugh.

“They are not as round as I would want them to be, a little saggy because of the weight gaining.”

“But they are boobs,” he points out, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Okay, so that’s all that matters. Boobs are great, nothing else matters. Men are simple, baby.”

“I can’t believe you,” you laugh swatting his chest playfully.

“What? I mean it! Do you think I think about all that stuff when I see your boobs? My mind goes: Oh my God, boobs! And that’s it. I just get excited to see your tits.”

“You are such a pig,” you laugh, snuggling closer to his side.

“Are you shaming me for my preferences now?”

“Your preferences?”

“Yeah, you are my preference,” he remarks smugly, kissing into your hair again. “I literally don’t know how to say it differently, and I’m sorry for being so vulgar in advance…”

“Oh God,” you mumble, already fearing what he’s going to say.

“But you have nothing to worry about until you see my dick getting hard at the sight of you.”

“That was highly inappropriate.”

“Yeah, but it’s true. I find you sexy and there’s evidence. I can’t really hide it,” he chuckles and when you look up at him you see a dirty, twisted smirk on his pink lips. “Please don’t ever doubt any of my feelings for you, alright?” he asks in a more serious tone. “And if you feel like this again, I want you to tell me. Those pills and bottling it up inside you don’t help. I don’t want you to risk your health just because you have doubts about me. I love you, and when I say that I mean that I love all of you. Everything.”

“Okay,” you answer in a faint whisper.

“Don’t just say okay because you want me to get out of your hair. Promise me that you won’t keep it to yourself. I want to help you, I want to be there for you like you are always there for me.”

“I promise,” you nod, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“Alright. Have you eaten today?” he softly asks and you fear to give him an answer, because you haven’t been able to push anything else down than just your morning coffee. “Okay, then let me make you something.” “I don’t… I’m not hungry…” you quietly tell him.

“Mhm, then I’ll make something for myself and being the romantic boyfriend that I am, I’m gonna share it with my lovely girlfriend as a cute gesture,” he says, rephrasing what he said earlier. You don’t argue with him, just let him slip out of your hold and go to the kitchen to make something for the two of you.

It’s a tiny step on a lifelong journey and you know that. You know that your feelings and opinion about yourself won’t change from one day to the other, but you slowly start to accept it. You have a lot ahead of you, the road might get bumpy sometimes and maybe other times you’ll have to take a few steps back. But at the end, you know it’s all going to be alright, because you will never be alone. Harry will be your greatest support through it all and now you can finally see that.

Don’t Worry - The 1975

When you're in love but you don't know what to do with it When blackness hangs overhead like a cloud

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' The sun will shine through

When you wake up and you don't know what day it is When the pain flows through your heart and your bones

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' The sun will shine through

When you feel no one knows just what you're goin' through When your insides feel much colder than snow

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' Oh, don't worry, darlin' Don't worry, darlin' I'll always love you You

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[noctilucid]

DannyMay Day 15: Nature

**References my Day 4 (Stars) drabble, but stands alone.**

"Circle up everybody!" Ms. Teslaff barked, rapping her walking stick on a boulder embedded in the trail.  "This camping trip is required by the state to be educational.  Therefore, you will be given a group assignment designed to meet municipal standards."  Mr. Lancer opened his messenger bag and started passing around packets and paper bags.  A ripple of complaints and muttered curses spread out through the group.  "You will be assigned a partner, and together you will search for and identify these plants.  Bring back a leaf for each plant in the packet to receive full credit."  

Paulina grimaced and looked down at her shoes for the tenth time that day.  She had thought they'd stay close to the cabins for this trip, and her usual cute flats would have served her just fine on the broad, packed paths cut by hundreds of students' feet in the years before.  But here she was, hiking in them.  The mud was bad enough, but all the uneven terrain was putting creases in the material every time she had to put her weight on the balls of her feet.  And now she was expected to go on a scavenger hunt?  What was she, five?  

"Paulina," Mr. Lancer said with a tired drawl as he read the names written on the brown paper bag on the top of his stack, "you will be partnered with Sam Manson."  He handed her the bag and a packet before moving on to the next group.  

Uhg, perfecto.  I'm with Creepy Manson.  They did this on purpose, didn't they?  Paulina cut her eyes at Sam as she stomped over in her combat boots, looking equally thrilled.  

"How many plants do we have to find?" Sam sighed, taking the packet from her.  She flipped through the pages.  "Well, at least these are all pretty distinctive."  

"I'm sure you're disappointed none of them can lay eggs in my face," Paulina returned with an edge.  She still hadn't forgiven Sam for that incident at the aquarium all those years ago.  

Sam narrowed her eyes, not looking up from the paper.  "Spores."

"What?"

"Plants don't lay eggs.  Some of them have spores."  She folded back a few pages and held up a picture of a fern they were supposed to locate.  "This one can lay spores in your face."  

Paulina raised her hand and waved at the teachers.  "Miss Teslaff, I want a different partner!  I don't want Sam to murder me and bury my body in the woods.  I'm too pretty to die."  

"No changing groups!"  

Paulina huffed and crossed her arms.  "Tough break," Dash said to her as he and Valarie headed off on one of the forks in the path.  

"Good luck!" Kwan chimed in, who was paired with Tucker.  "Hey, you got a plant identifying app on that thing…?"

"Do I ever!"  

Danny put a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder as he followed Mikey uphill.  "Try not to be too hard on her?"  

"No promises," Sam grumbled.  

Soon the path had cleared out except for the two of them and two pairs of band nerds peering over their packets together.  

"Come on, let's get this over with," Sam said at length, grabbing Paulina by the wrist and hauling her off in a random direction.  

"Ow!  Hey, get off of me!"  

Sam did let go, and then scuffled up a tumble of boulders to a trail on higher ground.  Paulina let out a dramatic and frustrated groan before following her up much more slowly.  By the time she caught back up, Sam was standing in the shade of a tree growing out of a split in the rock, studying the packet again.  

"Oriental Thuja?" she said, forehead creased.  "Why would they even put that on here?  It's not native to this area."  

"So we won't be able to find it?" How much is this stupid assignment worth anyway?

"No, it could be here, but it's invasive."

Paulina rolled her eyes.  "Don't tell me you're going to be sacrimonious about plants now too."  

"Oh, of course," Sam returned.  "Because you only like nature if it's pretty and flatters you.  You can't be bothered to learn about something complicated like an ecosystem."  She headed down the trail at a brisk walk, grabbing a sapling and using it as a hand-hold as she swung herself down another steep portion.  

"Would you stop doing that?" Paulina yelled after her, but Sam didn't slow down.  "¡Joder!" she swore under her breath.  Somehow, she was going to make Sam regret this by the end of the day.  She just had to figure out how.  

***

A brooding 45 minutes later, and Sam had found five of the plants they were looking for with little help from Paulina.  

"Next is the purple coned larch…" Sam said, more to the paper held in front of her face than to Paulina.  "We should probably go uphill to look for it…"  Paulina died a little more inside.  No more climbing hills!

"Oh, is that one of the ones that's going to lay spores in my face?" Paulina sniped as Sam strode on ahead for the hundredth time.  "I guess you would end up with some weird kinks after being possessed by an ugly plant ghost."  

"You're the one who brought up the face eggs," Sam said, nonchalant, and notably not slowing down.  "I think that says more about you than about me."  

Paulina clenched her fists.  "Ugh!  You're such a freak, you know that?"

"Aaaand personal attacks mean you have no convincing arguments left in your arsenal!  Looks like it's Sam two, Paulina zero for the day so far."  Sam was steadily moving out of range, and Paulina was forced to follow if she wanted to continue the argument.  She was busy trying to think of a better jab while watching where she put her feet, but Sam beat her to the punch.  "It's kind of sad that you're still hung up on this actually.  Move on already."

Paulina gritted her teeth as the angle of the slope forced her to grab a muddy point of rock to haul herself up with.  "Would it kill you to apologize?  ¡Dios mío!”

"For what?"

"For harassing me with a starfish, Miss Don't-Be-Cruel-To-Animals!"  She stood up and tried to wipe her hand clean on a tree trunk.  "And I mean a real apology, not that stupid letter the teacher made you write."  

"Oh, yeah, to be clear, I didn't mean that apology letter."  

"It was clear," Paulina said, quiet and venomous.    

"I hope you shredded it or something.  I'm kind of embarrassed to have my name on the bottom of it."  

"I threw it in the fireplace as soon as I got home that day."  

"Well, that's a relief," Sam said with a performative grin.  "And no, after what you did to Danny, you'd better believe I'd eat a hot dog before I'd apologize to you."  

"I only went out with Danny to get under your skin!"

"Exactly."

Paulina's hands spasmed between gestures as she tried to collect herself.  "Did you ever think that maybe, if you weren't such a self-absorbed piece of shit, maybe your friends wouldn't get hurt as much?"

Sam's face went blank for a telling second before she focused back on the paper.  Paulina was a little surprised that jab had worked, actually, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  She couldn't think of anything to follow up with, so she decided to allow the silence to be her victory.

And she's back to climbing again.  Someone kill me…

They had almost reached the summit of the hill they were on— Paulina was debating to herself whether it was tall enough to be considered a mountain— when Sam finally found what she was looking for.  The tree she was examining was scrawny and gnarled, squeezing its roots into the veins of available soil, and it was barely taller than they were.  

"I think this is it.  The needles look the same," Sam said, holding up the page for comparison.  "It would help if the picture wasn't in black and white, though."

Paulina cast a glance over the diagram and the plant in front of them.  "No, it doesn't have the little cones," she grumbled.  I swear to god, if we have to climb any higher…

"This one's pretty young.  I don't think it's old enough to have fruited before.  They take a couple of years to get established."  

"Well how can you tell if this is the right one?  There's a thousand different Christmas trees on this hill, and they all look the same."  Paulina shook her head.  "You know, whatever.  Let's just take a branch and go—"  She sputtered to a stop as Sam pushed the packet and paper bag full of samples into her hands.  Paulina adjusted the materials in her hands and watched as Sam stooped down, fished in her combat boot with two fingers, and pulled out something long and thin.  She pulled off the makeshift cap, revealing the stubby tip of a well-used oil pencil.  

Kneeling in front of the tree, Sam drew some intricate shape on the trunk with the dark blue pigment, then murmured something Paulina didn't catch.  In the shadow of the trees branches, Paulina saw the symbol glow faintly green, and the same light snaked up the tree along the ridges in the bark until it reached the closest branch.  With a quiver, the end of the branch put out fresh needles and then a tiny purple cone.  

"See?" Sam said, breaking off the end of the branch.  "Perfect match."

Paulina gaped like a fish. "You— Holy shit, you—"  Magic.  That was honest to god magic!  Paulina felt lightheaded.  She had been… dabbling.  Combing the internet and old bookstores.  At first, she had hoped to find a spell that could summon a ghost, or anything else she could use to get Phantom's attention.  But as the weeks had stretched into months, she had become desperate to find any scrap of genuine magic.  And here it was.  

"Are you— is that Wicca?" she finally managed.

Sam shook her head.  "Semitic Neopaganism.  There's a difference."  

Paulina paused to think on it.  Could I learn Jewish magic if I'm not Jewish?  Would it even work for me?  She chewed on her lip.  What am I saying?  There's no way Manson would teach me anything in the first place.  Then Sam started speaking softly, and Paulina had to shake out of her thoughts to catch it.

"I did think about apologizing," Sam said.  "Properly.  I was… kind of a mess in fifth grade.  Um.  And sixth and seventh too, actually."  Her eyes remained focused on the pine sprig in her hand as she spoke, slowly rotating it between her fingers.  "I've never liked you.  But that didn't make it right for me to pick on you."  She stood up and took back their paper bag, tucking the sample inside.  "But then you pulled Danny into it.  So, I'll never apologize."  She finally looked up and met Paulina's gaze.  "And neither will you."  Paulina opened her mouth to retort, only to realize that Sam was an image of perfect calm.  It was not an accusation, not a barb, just a statement.  And Paulina had no idea how to respond.  "We're both petty bitches," Sam continued. "It's in our natures.  So… let's just move on."  She extended a hand to Paulina.  "Deal?"  

The offered hand was stiff and formal, as if this were a business meeting rather than two sweaty girls talking on a hiking trail, but Paulina saw an earnestness in it.  Slowly, she reached out and slid her own palm into Sam's.  

"Deal."  She watched Sam for a moment, her unwavering gaze, the ridiculous purple contacts, the stillness which had come over her, like a stone come to rest.  Not sophisticated or refined, as Paulina sought to be, but… very Sam.  Very self-assured, in a way Paulina pretended not to admire.  "We don't like each other."

"Naturally."  Sam released her hand and turned to head back down the slope.  

"But we… don't hate each other either.  We just... are.  Now."  

Paulina saw the little quirk of a smile enter Sam's lips.  "Yeah."  

"And maybe… we can talk about magic sometimes?"  She shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "Like, over text, so nobody gets the wrong idea?"

Sam chuckled.  "Yeah.  That sounds fun."  

A smile crept over Paulina's face in spite of her attempt to hide it.  Oh, what does it matter?  Sam's not looking at me anyway.  She gave herself a moment to squeal silently in her head.  Real magic!  She'd found someone who knew real magic!  She shook her head again.  Of course it would be Manson.  Of course.  

She picked up her pace, in spite of her sore feet, in spite of the damage she was doing to her shoes, to catch up to Sam.  It was easier going downhill.  "What do we still have to find?"  

Sam extended the packet to her, pointing to one of the plants.  "Just two left, lady fern and honeysuckle.  They both like to grow near water, so I saved them for last.  We can head down and check the creek on our way back."  Oh thank god, we're almost done.  Paulina leaned in to get a better look at the fern diagram.  "You know, there's a spell I've been working on that uses ferns.  Maybe we should grab a couple extra?"  

Paulina squealed out loud this time, and clapped a hand over her mouth.  "Sorry," she mumbled through her fingers.  "Solemn.  Solemn goth witch."  She folded her hands in front of her and tried to look composed.  Sam laughed.  

"Nah, you don't have the wardrobe for that.  Go on, be as pink as you'd like."  She stepped down a bank of tree roots and held a branch back for Paulina to follow in her wake.  Paulina paused in surprise before accepting the gesture.

This will take some getting used to.  

[drxwsyni]

Denied︱Yandere Shindo Yo x f!Reader

Prompt: “I can’t wait any longer.”

Trope: Jealous!Character x Friend!Character

a/n: This is my submission for the weekly nsfw prompt from the @bnhabookclub! I’m feeling really self-conscious about posting this so I hope it turned out okay. I don’t have any content for this character so I figured this might be a good start. Please read the warnings and only continue if you’re comfortable with them. This is set in a college/university au, quirks still exist and everyone is 18+.

5.8k words

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, swearing, some degradation at the end, yandere behaviour

_____

He was just another guy in your department at first.

Lingering in the study hall, making small talk with other students before lectures. You saw him a lot, but nothing ever moved past brief glances.

Your friends were the ones who introduced you to him. Whether you should be grateful or not was beyond you at this point.

It was late, you had a night class and were packing your laptop into your backpack at the end of a lecture. A Friday night usually didn’t mean much for you. Just as you were at the moment, your plans would usually lean towards the monotonous side. The comfort of your dorm room played a large part in those plans―but not tonight.

Those who chose to grace you with their presence time and time again, while you wouldn’t always consider them your friends, were set on dragging you out with them for drinks. You didn’t necessarily mind it, but the pushiness wasn’t completely appreciated. Especially when it came in the form of a couple not so restrained individuals.

Every friend group has their flirts, yours being no exception. Only now there was a new addition.

Shindo Yo.

He made his presence very clear. Transferring into your class right before the deadline for availability, he quickly wormed his way into your life. It was a matter of keeping himself in all the right places where he knew you would be.

Like with the peers you chose to hang around with, of course.

It was sickeningly quick, the way Yo grew comfortable in your presence. The whole night was spent trying to weasel your way from his side. It was a task that proved to be much harder than it should’ve.

You’d shove off the arm draped over your shoulders, or move away from his frame leaning against yours at a bar table. He just met you, yet he was already so goddamn clingy. As far as you were concerned, it only proved what kind of person he was. Someone who got too comfortable too quickly―absolutely no awareness for someone's boundaries.

As much as you hoped he’d leave you alone after that painfully tiring night out, he didn’t. Yo sat down in the seat beside you the next class you two had together.

A cheeky, “This seat taken?” Of course it wasn’t―you always got to class early so there was never anyone occupying the surrounding area for a while. Which meant he had time to chat your ear off until the prof showed up.

“Don’t think I got your number last Friday.” You knew he was looking at you with that shit eating grin. There was no way you’d give him the time of day to look though.

“You didn’t.” You pretended to read a page in your textbook in an attempt to silently convey how much you’d rather not to speak to him.

“That’s right, I didn’t.” He paused, presumably waiting for something else from you. And when you didn’t speak, he did. “I think it only makes sense I did get it though.”

You spared him a side glance, noting his jovial attitude, “And why is that?” Sounding a little snarky wasn’t your intention, but the excessive amount of affection he’d shown deemed it permissible.

He gave a half-hearted chuckle, “We’re in the same class, we hang with the same people. And now,” he put his laptop and water bottle on the table in front of the two of you, “we sit together. Don’t you think it’s only natural that we exchanged numbers?”

He acted so casual, his tone so friendly that it was hard to deny him. And in an act of reflex, you didn’t. “I guess not...but we could just―”

“Here. Make a new contact for yourself.” Yo extended his unlocked phone towards you, and with a reluctant hand you took it. The contacts app was already open, so you started to type in your information.

“Not gonna give me your phone too?” You looked up at the man who was waiting expectedly, eyeing the device that was resting on your textbook before looking back at you.

“Oh, uh...yeah, sorry.” Mildly embarrassed, you handed him your phone as you spoke, not before unlocking it and opening the same app. His fingers brushed yours as he took it from you, and for a moment you wondered if the contact was just as intentional as all the other times he insisted on touching you last Friday.

The two of you sat in silence as you finished filling out the contact form.

He returned your device, you doing the same. You mentally rolled your eyes upon seeing the heart emoticons Yo placed next to his name.

“Now that that’s out of the way, why don’t we start hanging out more? From what I’ve seen you don’t exactly make a point in talking to anyone. You could use the company.”

Was that supposed to sound friendly?

“Ah, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with school and―”

“Oh, c’mon. I’m sure you can find some free time. If it’s parties you’re not big on we can just study together.”

You looked at him, slightly offended at the interruption but also confused at the offer of studying. He seemed like the kind of guy to just wing it through all his classes. Going out for more drinks certainly wasn’t on your to do list and it was something you presumed he was more inclined to suggest. But studying―that was something you could do. “I guess...if you’re okay with that. I’ve got some free time after this class, it’s alright if you’re too busy though.”

“No, I’m good too. Why don’t you send me your schedule so I know when you’re free.”

It was a harmless suggestion. Convenient even―he wouldn’t have to pester you over when it was a good time to study. But something about that smile of his didn’t sit right. It was more like a grin―suggestive in a way.

It made you uneasy.

You took out your phone, “I’ve got a lot of classes so I’m not sure we’ll be able to see each other very often.” Opening his contact, you attached the image of your schedule to the text and sent it. A second later and his phone buzzed atop the table.

“Perfect. Would you look at that, our schedules are actually pretty similar.” Yo was scanning the timetable, meanwhile you weren’t feeling so pleased hearing that you might have to be around him more than you could handle.

He looked like he was going to say something else, but just as he opened his mouth to speak the professor walked into the room. You hadn’t even realized it, but amidst your conversation with Yo the majority of the students had filed in.

It looked like the instructor was still getting ready for the lecture, booting up the terminal at the front of the room to display a powerpoint.

“You mind if I borrow a pencil? Forgot some stuff in my dorm.” He was back to looking at you with that smile of his. Maybe it really was just a friendly gesture, nothing more.

You were probably overthinking things.

“Yeah, gimme a sec―” Rooting through your pencil case, you managed to locate a spare utensil for the man. Offering it to him with a quiet “Here,” Yo took it from your hand.

“Thanks cutie.”

The professor started up the powerpoint. All attention shifted to the front of the room, meanwhile yours remained on the nonchalant behaviour of the man sitting next to you.

_____

The lecture was over before you knew it. Note taking and trying not to fall asleep were the main battles to be had, aside from trying to distract yourself from Yo.

Was he closer than he was before the professor started speaking?

“Hey, earth to (y/n).”

You looked up at his soft brown eyes, “What? Oh, sorry―zoned out a little.” Awkwardly, you stuffed your notes and laptop into your bag.

Yo laughed a little at your state, “Yeah, I can tell.” He began doing the same before continuing, “So, where did you wanna study. I know of a nice little place in the library on this side of campus. Or maybe if you’re hungry we can go to that new cafe that opened up down the street…”

Right, you promised him you’d study.

Somehow in your muddled thoughts the declaration got lost on you, but naturally such a thing would never happen to Yo. He was much too persistent for that.

The library was secluded. Not a good idea.

“The cafe should be fine. Is there anything in particular you want to go over?” All your belongings were effectively shoved into your bag. You stood up, retrieving the light jacket that was hanging off the back of your chair.

Yo began doing the same, picking up a discarded sweater. “Hmm, I think I just wanna go over the basics. But I’d be more than happy to help you out with anything.” He was pulling on the article of clothing, pushing the chair in with his leg. “I’ve actually got pretty good grades in this class. Think you need a tutor?”

His tone was almost teasing, but you paid no mind. “I think I’m good. Why don’t we just focus on the material from today’s lecture. Not quite sure I retained most of it to be honest.”

“Cool, you can borrow my notes if you missed anything.”

He was already walking in the direction of the door before you could respond, his backpack lazily slung over his shoulder.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself. Studying with someone was better than being alone. It’s just...Yo was very eager. You’d known him for less than a week, and he was already acting like you were lifetime friends. Actually, it felt like it was a little more than that.

But you’d keep it as friends. Besides, you weren’t about to abandon the people you had long-term committed relationships with for fresh meat.

Following him out of the room, you tried to maintain a safe distance between the two of you. Both physically and in conversation―it was safer that way.

_____

It would appear that Yo really was as intelligent as he claimed. You missed more than you thought from the lecture, and the man didn’t hesitate for a second when it came to diligently explaining the content.

Surprisingly, the time you spent with him was enjoyable. Perhaps you judged him too soon. There were no complaints on his end as you went over the material. A back and forth that should be painstakingly tedious was nothing but the sort.

You just studied. Disregarding a few flirtatious comments here and there, he was mostly respectable. And when the time came to go your separate ways, you did so with a hint of reluctance. However, that too was quickly disregardable.

The relaxing atmosphere of your dorm was much preferable.

It wasn’t the last time Yo asked to study with you. Surely enough, when the opportunity presented itself, he had one thing in mind. Always a one sided initiation, he would send you a quick text, asking if you were free.

You were always free, and when it came to something as harmless as studying there wasn’t anything to hold you back from holing up in a cafe with Yo after class.

But that wasn’t enough for him.

Too much distance, you presumed. It wasn’t something you minded―you preferred it that way. But Yo was a man committed to closeness. And he wanted to be close to you.

He came to your dorm room unannounced, passing it off as checking up on you. And if you weren’t doing anything you would be soon, him always insisting that an impromptu study session was in need.

You had no clue how he found your dorm room.

Yo was nice to you. Patient, understanding―a little touchy, but still. He was nice. It made it easy to overlook his less than ideal traits.

The traits that had him slowly integrating himself into your everyday life. Or at least trying to.

He suggested doing something that didn’t involve hovering over textbooks and drowning in the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Going out for dinner, seeing that new movie that just came out, going to a live music performance at the bar.

You denied him at each turn. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Yo. It was just that you had your suspicions about him. The relationship you two held was still newly formed. Maybe a month had gone by at the most, and during that time you were trying to get a better idea of the kind of person he was.

The person he didn’t let everyone see.

There was no way he was so effortlessly kind and helpful. He was a good friend, someone to study with. But there was concern to be held when it came to the prospect of who he really was. If there was a different personality underneath the layers of sweet sentiments and innocence, you needed to be aware of them.

He was a man to be kept at a distance at the moment, for your own sake.

Your other friends didn’t warrant the same treatment. You’d known them since graduating high school for the most part. Maybe a few of them were newer acquaintances, but they still had at least a year under their belt.

Another month went by, and you were still on the same level of friendship. Study buddies, with the occasional bout of small talk here and there.

But he was pushing you. The disconnect was getting to him. The visits to your dorm didn’t stop, and he started suggesting other, less public spots to go over the course content.

He brought up going to the library once again.

“They’ve got these private rooms we can rent so it’s easier to study. Doesn’t that sound better?”

You trusted Yo, but only to an extent. Not the way you trusted your other friends. And he saw that.

Two more months and not much had changed. Exams were rolling around and you needed to focus more than ever. But a little fun couldn’t hurt.

A few times here and there you were once again dragged out to social events. Parties, bar hopping―shameless behaviour.

Except it wasn’t―not to Yo.

He tagged along, like he would with any other excursion you went on. Like the first night you went out with him he was as clingy as ever. And just like before you kept pushing him off. Maybe not as much, but enough for there to be a difference. A difference between the way you treated him and the way you let all your other friends get close to you. That’s what was shameless―his complete disregard for your boundaries.

After one night of repeated resistance he got worse. The insisting attitude was amplified. He sat closer to you, and you did your best to subtly inch away. Sometimes you let him have his fun, but mostly you wanted to maintain that space that kept you safe. If he did turn out to be someone that wasn’t the man you’d been studying with for almost four months, you needed to have a way out. Being in public with him did the trick.

The two of you were burning the midnight oil―luckily the cafe on campus was open until the current ungodly hours of the night. Yo was as helpful as ever, going over the seemingly endless notes and lecture powerpoints as many times as you needed. You tried to help him, but he was too smart for his own good, or at least that’s how he acted.

And yet, his normal beaming personality―always a little too kind to feel genuine―just seemed a little...off.

You couldn't quite place where the feeling came from.

“Ahh, well I don’t know about you but I’m ready to pack it in,” he sighed with a stretch. The two of you were huddled around a small table, nearly completely covered in papers, textbooks, wayward sticky notes―you name it.

It was late, neither of you were really tired, but the idea of going over the same thing you’d been reading for the past three hours wasn’t appealing.

You agreed, “Yeah, I’m good with that. Thanks for helping me tonight, probably would’ve procrastinated otherwise.” It was the truth, you were a glutton for punishment, and avoiding the necessary was something you were prone to do.

“No problem, cutie. You know I don’t mind. I get a lot out of it too after all.”

You shook your head, lightly laughing at his claim. “Like you need it, your marks are practically perfect.”

Both of you were lazily moving your things into your respective bags while he responded. “It’s not just the studying, I get to spend time with you.”

You glanced up at him with an inquisitive look before disregarding the notion. “Yeah, okay. Well lemme know if you wanna cram a bit more before the exam. You know by now I’ve got nothing better to do.” Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you grabbed the empty mug and placed it with the other dirty cups at the counter.

Yo did the same, “Actually, would you mind stopping by my dorm really quick. For once there’s actually something I don’t get about the lessons. Maybe you could help?”

He was giving you the innocent smile, waiting for a response. “You mean like...right now?”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’ll only take a sec. Left the notes there by accident.”

It seemed harmless enough, and if it would be brief then surely you could spare the time to assist him.

You followed Yo out of the cafe, letting him lead you to the residence building he was staying in on campus. It wasn’t a long walk, and you were thankful given that you wanted to spend as little time as possible completing this final task of the night.

The journey up the elevator and to his room was done in silence, you taking in the familiar surroundings as your own dorm building was made to look almost identical. Eventually you arrived at his door, him unlocking it and letting you enter first.

He had one of the single room dorms, fit with a separate washroom and kitchen area.

“It’s just in my bedroom.” He moved past another door, and you remained trailing his path. “I’ve got it here somewhere...Here it is!”

He held out some papers being kept together by a staple in the corner. You took it, venturing further into the room as you scanned the documents.

“Ah, Yo...isn’t this stuff we’ve already gone over?”

You heard the door to his bedroom shut behind you, prompting you to turn in his direction. Yo still had his hand on the doorknob, a pensive look mixed with almost a brief moment of conflict. But that quickly faded.

“Y’know, I’ve been trying to figure out how I was gonna go about this for a while. I just...I can’t wait any longer. And honestly, I’m surprised you even came up here.” He laughed off the notion, eyes coming to rest on your form.

You put the papers down on the windowsill. “What are you talking about?”

He was looking at you with almost apathetic eyes, contrasting the slight smile that was just a little too off. “What, you think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been treating me?”

“I’m not sure I’m following, Yo...”

“You keep pushing me away. Time and time again…” He took a step forward, “You don’t do that with anyone else. Why is that?”

He was blocking the only exit to the room. You eyed the door, a pang of anxiety washing over you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about...Can we just go over the work―”

“Shut up. You know what I’m talking about.” He spoke slowly, drawing closer to you as he continued, “Your little friends don’t get the same treatment. You don’t mind getting close with them, do you?”

He was backing you further into the room, each stride he took forward being responded with a step behind from you. “What makes them so special, huh?”

Another step.

“They have something I don’t?”

Another step.

“I bet they’ve got you wrapped around their finger.”

Another step. His methodical and drawn out rant didn’t cease.

“And they’re probably fucking telling you to stay away from me, aren’t they?”

You hit the desk behind you, leaning back to put a desperate few more centimeters between the two of you. It left you at a loss for words, seeing this completely new side of him. Something threatening.

Yo was barely even a foot away, voice dangerously low. “Oh, sweetheart.” In an unexpected movement, he cupped your face with both hands, staring directly into your pleading eyes. “You don’t have to listen to them anymore.”

A little too gently in contrast to his demanding attitude, Yo pressed his lips against yours. You grabbed his forearms, attempting to pry him off. He only responded by deepening the kiss, pressing you further into the desk behind you. Unable to comprehend his actions, you stood there frozen.

He didn’t stop, one of his hands weaving its way into your hair, a leg pushing itself in between yours. Seemingly unsatisfied with your lack of reciprocation, he gave your locks a harsh tug. The brief pain made you gasp, and he took the opportunity to push his tongue past your parted lips. If you knew any better you might’ve just bit down on the offending intrusion, but something told you it would only bring bad news.

Yo held you against him until you were frantically pushing against his chest. The lack of oxygen must’ve been mutual, as soon he pulled away.

But he wasn’t quite done yet.

Moving past your lips, Yo began leaving a trail of light kisses―along your jawline, descending to the soft, supple flesh of your neck. The hand that once remained cupping your face had moved, opting to wrap around your waist to prevent you from squirming out of his grasp.

“Y-Yo, I don’t think―”

He bit down harshly on the junction between your neck and your collarbone, stopping your train of thought and earning a small yelp. A little gentler, he sucked on the spot before detaching from it, moving to place new marks on a few other areas.

The whole time you were at odds with yourself.

This was wrong. He was just a friend. It’s all you wanted him to be.

And yet, the nagging voice in the back of your head grew more and more distant with each passing second.

Yo paused his ministrations, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this. You’re such a fucking tease, you know.”

In a swift movement he gripped your hips and lifted you into his arms, forcing you to wrap your legs around him for support.

“What are you doing? I think we should just―”

“Just what? It’s your fault I’m like this.” He was moving towards his bed, and upon reaching it laid you down at the foot of it. Not wasting a moment, he climbed over your form, nestling himself in between your legs. He leaned down to capture your lips with his once again. One hand next to your head was used to steady himself while the other moved to undo the buttons of your blouse.

Finally catching on to his actions, your own hands flew to the one fumbling with your top. You managed to break the kiss, a little breathless as you spoke, “Stop it Yo, please.”

He took both of your hands, using only one of his to pin them above you. Without the obstacle he resumed his attack on the other side of your neck, ignoring your pleading, now preferring to simply rip at the shirt. You heard a few buttons hit the ground as they flew from the fabric.

Sitting up slightly, Yo fixed his gaze on your now exposed chest. “So...fucking beautiful.” It came out in a breathy sigh, like the sight eased every tension in his body all at once.

He was getting impatient. His head dipped back down to your exposed chest, alternating between gently nipping at the skin and latching onto one spot for a few moments before moving on. His now free hand trailed down the side of your waist, inching lower and lower down your body.

It was a pitiful attempt―trying to pull your hands out of his grasp. Yo was much stronger than you once perceived, another thing to prove just how much you didn’t know about him. Your quiet pleas fell upon deaf ears, him paying no mind to your protests in favour of reaching some self satisfying goal.

The wandering hand slipped beneath the hem of your skirt, and you could feel his fingers brush against the seat of your panties. He momentarily pressed his fingers into the plush and covered skin. That didn’t seem to be enough for him though, as in a swift motion he pushed the fabric aside, a digit slipping between your folds. He massaged teasingly small circles repeatedly, making you unconsciously buck your hips in hopes of gaining more friction. After a few moments his fingers delved lower, gathering some of your slick in between them.

Yo smiled dangerously against your skin at the realization, “You’re fucking enjoying this, aren’t you?” His hot breath fanned against you as he chuckled. “Good, it’ll be easier for the both of us if you stopped acting like you didn’t want me.”

You whimpered at his crude words, turning your head to the side in shame. He was right, the heat you felt pooling from his actions wasn’t intended, at least not from you, but it was there nonetheless.

“C’mon, don’t get all shy now.” Without warning he pushed a single finger into your burning core, earning a shocked gasp from you. His thumb remained circling your clit as he pumped agonizingly slowly in and out of you. He added another digit soon after, the slight stretch making your face scrunch up in a small wince.

Assuming he’d gotten bored with leaving marks all over your chest, Yo moved up again to press his lips back into yours.

His fingers curled expertly inside you, reaching that soft, spongy area that sent your mind reeling. You were slowly falling apart around him. And in a moment when you were trying to come back to your senses, Yo activated his quirk, sending ripples of low vibrations through your core.

You jolted from the unexpected sensation before you felt your body reacting sickeningly quick to its effects. He didn’t cease his attack for a second, muffling the moans you tried desperately to hold back while greedily working his mouth against yours. Leaving no area unexplored, you could only let him consume you further as your body succumbed to his ministrations.

Yo’s actions grew more intense, his fingers moving faster in an almost brutal pace while he let his quirk grow in intensity every time he hit that sensitive spot, targeting it with each thrust. You felt the coil in your lower abdomen start to tighten as he slowly worked you towards release.

He broke the kiss, leaving you panting in his wake. “Fuck, I can feel you getting close.” Yo accentuated his claim with a few harsh pumps, somehow going deeper than before. You arched your back at the sensation, earning a pleased look to creep across his face.

“P-please, Yo. I w-wanna―”

“What? You wanna cum, is that it?” He lowered his head back to your neck, pressing light kisses into it before ghosting his lips against the shell of your ear. “I don’t know if I should let you. Been such a bitch to me these past few months, you think you deserve it?”

As if to prove his point, Yo halted his movements, retracting the effects of his quirk. You squirmed beneath him, whimpering at the loss of stimulation.

“I should make you beg for it. How does that sound?” Tantalizingly slowly, he began lazily pushing his fingers back into your heat, dragging them against your sensitive walls while removing them just as steadily. He repeated the action, smirking down at the sight of you writhing against his touch―or the lack of it.

“Yeah, I think that’s what you deserve. Go on, beg for―”

Before he could finish his demand, a few loud knocks could be heard at the door of his dorm room.

“Yo! You in there buddy!?” The voice of a man you didn’t recognize bellowed out from the other side of the door. Your body froze at the sound.

The last thing you wanted was someone finding you in this position. The thought made your blood run cold, and you looked up at Yo to see if he was having the same idea.

From the look on his face, he definitely wasn’t.

Yo ripped the hand away that was pinning your wrists down to the bed, instead clamping it firmly across your mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, grasping at his grip on your face.

“Yeah, what’s up man!”

As soon as he spoke an intense bout of vibrations crashed through your core. He returned to thrusting in and out of your sopping heat, not relenting even as you thrashed against his hold.

It was too much―his quirk now more powerful than ever. He continued to rub tight circles into your clit with almost the same level of vibrations, maybe a little less intense than the ones he was sending through you with his other fingers.

The man outside his dorm spoke again. “I was just wondering if you had the notes from last class. Me and a few guys need them right now.”

Yo spoke without breaking eye contact with you, relishing in the way you tried to control the little noises as a result of his relentless movements. The glint in his eyes that you once saw was gone, now replaced with an empty darkness.

This was the Yo who was being kept from the public. The person you did your best to avoid for so long.

“I do actually, I’m in the middle of something―why don’t I stop by your place in a few minutes?”

You tried to close your legs, or somehow move away as you were pushed towards release faster with every passing second. Yo only pressed your head back into the mattress with more force, acting more as a warning than a way to keep you in place.

“Okay, sounds good man. Hey―are you with someone right now?”

His methods were wreaking havoc on your body. The fear of being caught and the intensity of his actions sent you over the edge. As if sensing you were done for, Yo let out a final wave of forceful vibrations, sending you crashing hard into an orgasm. Your eyes shut tightly as you rode out the blinding sensation, body seizing up completely.

You didn’t know how long it lasted for, but by the time you finally came down from your high it seemed the investigative man on the other side of the door was gone.

Yo removed his fingers, holding them up to his face in awe. Through your tear stained vision you could catch the glistening of your slick, stringing as he pulled his fingers apart. You watched in disgust as he continued to lap at the substance, sucking his own digits clean with a sinfully low moan resonating from his throat in the process.

Focusing anywhere but at him was a better option, but he wouldn’t have that. As you tried to turn your head again with eyes trying to distract themselves on something that wasn’t the man towering above you, the hand over your mouth moved to clamp around your jaw.

“Fucking look at me.” Yo turned your head back harshly at the demand, and your eyes met his. The threatening tone in his voice was one you’d never heard before.

“I’m gonna go give my buddy what he needs, and you’re gonna stay here until I’m done.”

He waited a few seconds, gauging your initial reaction. Finally, Yo released his hold, climbing off the bed and letting you curl into yourself in defence.

“If you’re gone when I get back, I’ll tell everyone just how much of a little slut you are. And we both know they’ll believe me, I’m way more likeable than you’ll ever be, princess.”

A pitiful sob wracked your body, soon turning into steady convulsions from crying. “I-I’m not...m’not a s-slut.”

He grabbed a notebook that was sitting on his bookshelf before walking to the side of the bed where you were trying to move towards in an attempt to leave. He crouched down next you you, petting down the hair on your head in an almost loving manner, “Oh I know that, but your friends don’t. They might let you tag along with them but I know they don’t really like you. Not how they like me.”

At his point you were sobbing into your hands, trying to rub away at the hot tears streaming down your face. “D-don’t―please don’t tell them that.”

Yo swiped a thumb across your cheek, doing little to rid them of your tears. “I won’t, you just be a good girl and nothing bad will happen, okay?” He gave your face a few reassuring pats before retracting his hand.

You were a mess―clothes disheveled and hair turned unruly.

He was bluffing. He had to have been.

“Don’t move, I’ll be back as soon as possible!” Yo was exiting the room, giving your crumpled form a final once over before leaving, notes in tow without letting you get out another word of protest. The door shut with a thud, and you could hear the signature click of a lock falling into place.

You could leave. You should leave.

And you wanted to, but his words kept repeating in your head. If he wasn’t bluffing then you weren’t too sure if your friends would take your side. It wasn’t just your friends either. Your family would find out, your school even.

Yo was a well liked man. A trusted man. You trusted him.

He was so good at what he did. Hiding his true intentions under that far too positive and easy going attitude. It made it easy to disregard him, and look at what happened when you did.

You denied him the satisfaction of such a closeness for so long, not even knowing what it was doing to him. Realistically, it shouldn’t have done anything. Any sane person would’ve taken the hint long ago to leave well enough alone.

But the absence of light in his eyes, the condescending attitude―all of it was evidence to show that he was everything but sane.

He’d be back soon.

And you stayed where you were.

[lyricalimerence]

Colorful Consequences - JJ Maybank

summary: jj dyes his hair after losing a bet

word count: 1718

warnings: a little swearing, just friendship fluff

a/n: this is so cute don't even look at me + and this is for @maybanktho for the concept prompt

*this is how i imagine the color, but he just dyes the fringe/front part of his hair*

It all started with a bet—as most things do between you and JJ. There had to be a prize and a consequence, it was just your friendship dynamic. You two became friends through a competition he set in the fourth grade during recess. You both played on the field, juggling half pumped up soccer balls and booting them into opposite goals, not wanting to get in each other's way. Until he kicked his soccer ball into your goal on purpose, proposing a bet that he could sink a goal from farther away than you could. However, much to his ten-year-old chagrin, you won. He had to eat a hot dog from the cafeteria the next day—the hot dogs were chalky and an abnormal color. You, however, got to be one of his best friends for life. He would say that he got the winning end of that bet in the end, having you by his side for the past six years outweighed the stomachache he had after eating that hotdog.

This time, it was a surfing bet, and, as were getting gloriously used to, you won. His punishment was he had to dye his hair, and your prize was you choosing the color. A schedule wasn’t set for the day you had to become his personal hairdresser, so you were going about your Saturday morning as usual—half hungover and asleep on your couch, not having gotten to your bedroom before passing out the night prior. Your parents were nowhere to be found, probably on the mainland having affairs with rich people for money, or something along those lines—you didn’t particularly care anymore.

The familiar knocking pattern of JJ Maybank, your best friend, slammed into your eyes, almost abrasively as your head throbbed from the alcohol you consumed last night. Once you collected your thoughts together, you were surprised JJ was awake, not being the “up-and-at-em” type in the slightest.

Somehow, you managed to pull yourself off the couch, the crick in your neck loosening as you stretched.

“You look like shit, Y/N,” JJ announced, leaning against the doorframe as you wiped the sleep from your hardly open eyes.

“Thanks for noticing, Sherlock,” you smiled wryly, pushing the hair from your fringe falling over your face. “What’re you doing here? And why are you handling your alcohol so much better than me?”

JJ walked past you, patting your shoulder as he entered your small house, the homey decor and familiar scent of fresh cookies and linen febreze inviting him in with as much vigor as you did the first time he came to your home. “Today is the day, my friend. And, in regards to the whole hungover deal, I so happen to not be a lightweight, unlike some…” he trailed off to glance at your slouched frame, the cuffs of your paper bag denim jeans bunched up around your shins, and the thick strapped tank from Pelican Marina that you chopped the bottom off of, was pushed up around the band of your bra. Normally, you’d be self conscious of how much of your torso was on display, but you were feeling like a dead squirrel, and it wasn't like JJ hadn't seen you in a bikini almost everyday.

Moving towards the couch to refold the blanket you had knocked onto yourself before you fell asleep, you asked, with an increasing amount of pep and clarity, “Today is the day for what?”

“I’m glad you asked, Y/N! You're dying my hair today. Get ready so we can go to the store.” He seemed a bit nervous, his hand instinctively going to the blond pieces of hair that fell as fringe over his forehead. A goofy smile spread across your face as his words sunk in, the leftover cranky drunkenness fading away as you almost jumped in the air as you ran to your bathroom to get ready.

Once you got out of the shower and changed into a t-shirt and shorts, you met JJ back in your family room, his eyes glued to the phone screen in his hand, his eyes tracing over the photo he was looking at. His phone was open to a picture Kie took of you two on the HMS, having been in the midst of a shotgunning competition. Your hair fell in waves, from your ears down it was a light teal color, matching the oceanic background. JJ zoomed in on the picture, scrolling between the bright, superficial hair color to his photographed blond locks. “Hey!” You made him jump, as you leant against the back of the sofa, looking over his shoulder.

“I was thinking this color?” He sounded a little unsure, but as a hair dying veteran, you knew it was just virgin hair jitters. You took pride in having watched enough Brad Mondo, making you think you could do his hair just as well as a hairdresser.

You reached over, swiping so the camera app was open, and you maneuvered your ponytail to lay over his forehead, the pastel turquoise color of your hair covering most of his face, “I think ya look great.”

He jumped off the couch, grumbling about you being a total dork, and to just get the damn car keys. Having completely sobered up, you grabbed the keys to your old pickup truck and all but skipped out the door. JJ, being blond, had such good hair for dying. You had wondered what he’d look like with crazy colored locks multiple times, he had just never agreed until you won the bet.

Once you two had arrived at the store, a wave of air conditioning hit you, pricking at your bare legs and arms. Having been very acquainted with the beauty supply store, you walked straight to the aisle of hair dye, JJ following cluelessly in your wake. The lanyard holding your keychain was tucked in your denim short’s pocket, the ribbon loop brushing your knee as you bent down to pick up a mixing bowl and color application brushes. You looked towards JJ who was watching you with stitched together eyebrows and evident confusion. “These are semi-permanent colors,” you pointed to a section of the shelves, bottles and tubes or paint like hair dyes sprawling out in front of JJ. “Your hair is light enough that it won’t need bleach… so how long are you committed to this merman look, ya think?”

JJ turned his head to look at you, his eyes lazily gazing at your dimpled smile. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

“As you should!” A laugh bounced from your lips as you nodded, pulling two bottles from the shelf of semi-permanent colors, knowing he’d want to be able to change it at some point. “I used this dye for my hair, if that’s what you want.” He nodded and took the bottle from your hand, staring at it with optimistic intrigue. “C’mon,” you motioned for him to follow you to the checkout line where you two split the bill and you teased him with the cashier with whom you were familiar.

Once you drove JJ back to your house—after going through the McDonald’s drive thru because JJ was hungry—you rummaged through your bathroom, stains of pinks, greens, blues, purples, reds, oranges, and blacks danced along the edge of your sink and shower from your previous dye jobs. You threw a blue towel at JJ to wrap around his shoulders, knocking a french fry out of his hand. “Hey, I was eating that.”

You mock pouted at his indignation but stayed silent so you could pour some of the dye into the mixing bowl. Before slipping on plastic gloves, you sectioned out JJ’s hair with old butterfly clips and barrettes he used to make fun of you for wearing in the sixth grade, claiming you were too grown up for hair clips. Although, he was owning the look now, pretending to flip his fringe sassily before you peeled the strands of blond off his forehead.

JJ was swiping through his phone, looking for Spotify before putting on his playlist and drumming on the counter with his fingers to the beat. You had to hold his head still multiple times with one hand, your other hand otherwise occupied with a brush filled with hair dye. Once he calmed down, you started brushing the color on the ends of his fringe, following the sections you had created. By the time you had finished and worked the dye to the roots of his fringe you handed him a mirror. “Whatcha think?”

He stared at the mirror like he was looking at a foreign object. “I mean I like it… Do you think we could stop here, just dye the front pieces?”

You hummed in response, grabbing the now empty plastic bag from the store and tying it just over his hair to incubate it with heat. “Okay, now we wait for thirty minutes.”

“Let's watch Avatar the Last Airbender.” JJ suggested, as you two walked into the main hallway of your small house on The Cut. Responding with a short word of agreement, you watched JJ jump over the couch to sit on it, aiming the remote at the screen.

After your phone beeped, signaling the end of thirty minutes, you had to tear JJ away from the TV, him having become engrossed by Aang’s adventures. Somehow you managed to rinse his hair out in the basin of your shower, adding to the colorful splotches on the rim. He complained about the water being cold then when you warmed it up, he cupped his hand under the faucet and splashed you with it.

Using all your self control, you extinguished the beginnings of a water fight in your bathroom and rinsed all the dye from JJ’s hair.

Shaking his hair like a wet dog, water droplets flying at you, JJ haphazardly dried his hair before looking in the mirror. “Wait, that's actually so good.”

“Really?” You asked through a grin, excited he liked the color. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and squeezed you into his side.

“Yeah, it's awesome, Y/N!” He let go of you just to grab your hand and pull you through your house, “Let’s go show the others.”

Another bet he lost with more than optimal consequences.

tags - click here if you'd like to be added

@ilovejjmaybank @thelocalpogue @calumbroutledge @drew-starkey @jayjaymaebank @prejudic3 @anonymous0writer @rudys-pankow @lovingxjj @apoguecalledjj @write-from-the-heart @xxxxxxxxxxxxxooooooooooooo @insanitysparkles @bxllasanosa @fandomsinapile @starkeymarkey @beatement-l @outerbanksbro @abigailpankow @popcsheyward @mahleeyuh @queenofthebees003 @kaitieskidmore1 @copper-boom @starlightstarkey @joyfulfrappuccino @king-ronnoc @ultranikilove

[jslittlebirdie]

Hello love ♡

How are you? It feels like a eternity since we've talked for the last time! I miss you ♡

I'm, once again, terrible sorry that I'm answering you so late! Oh my, there's so much going on recently that I'm just constantly tired/exhausted, and I've such a persistently guilty conscience that I'm not able to answer all the incredible people and their equally touching messages! In addition, my Tumblr kept crashing since Thursday! As soon as I started to write a message, END, I managed to scroll down four posts on my dash, END. That was so incredible frustrating!

And to answer your questions, my first aid course was sadly only one-time and unfortunately I don't really have the time and money to take part in another or an extended one

My side effects were kind of weird, as I actually only had them that one night! Otherwise there was nothing at all! So, no need to worry, but thank you ♡

And I actually find it incredibly difficult to take breaks or to rest. I don't know, I kinda only feel successful when I'm exhausted? The best feeling is when I feel light-headed, while my body tingles slightly, in the evening; then I know that I've done even slightly enough that day. Does that make sense? I know that this isn't healthy, but it's also difficult to convince my head and body of it... I almost always don't even notice that I'm crossing this line and just keep going and then forget to stop or take a break at all (even if it's after four energy drinks) I really can't recommend this mindset!

However, two of far too many problems regarding my apprenticeship have been resolved! Not enough so that I don't panic and fear it anymore, but so that I'm a tiny little bit calmer.

Still, I wouldn't mind a little care, company, encouragement, and hugs from my F/O's! ♡

I'm sending you soooooo much love and positivity and, of course, a big, thight, comforting hug full of affection and love ♡

Luna, my dear!!🌸💖

Omg yes, it really felt like an eternity😭😭 I miss you and talking to you so much, my love! I was thinking about sending you a message this morning, but I wasn't sure if I might overwhelm or bother you with it. So I am now so incredibly happy to hear from you again!!!🥺🥺🥺

Oh, thank you so much for asking. I'm actually doing quite well, I guess. Yesterday was pretty exhausting to say the least, but I'm feeling better today, thankfully. I'm spending most of my time at my desk again, studying for my next exam😑 But I think this time it won't be as bad as the last one (at least I hope so), because this exam is a philosophy exam (and it's in my native language, which makes things a bit easier too😅). As always, I'm trying my best🙃

Darling, there is absolutely no need to apologize❤️ I can totally understand that. As you may have noticed, I've been taking a little longer to respond lately too. And for me, Tumblr has been a little weird the last few days as well - especially the app on my smartphone😑 But I think that's because of my internet provider. It really sucks, there are always some sort of problems... I just hope that the problems with your devices have been resolved in the meantime. I would be so very sad if you wouldn't be able to log in here😭

I'm so sorry to hear that your course only had had one session😔 I can imagine how unsatisfying and frustrating that must be to end up learning nothing or only very little new things. I'm sure you'll get an opportunity to take another course at some point in the future. I'm rooting for you, my dear!💖💖

I still worry about you, darling! Please, please take good care of yourself! As best you can. I know how easy it is to fall into this bad habit. It's the same for me sometimes. Then I think I haven't done enough, which makes me feel really bad, tense and nervous😩😖 But I say this with all my love, it's okay to take breaks, to take time for yourself. Our bodies and minds need to take some rest💖

Gosh, my heart aches so badly for you, Luna😔 I would give anything to be able to ease your fears and worries. You don't deserve that at all. I'm glad that at least two of the problems have been resolved and you are feeling a little better. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that solutions will be found for the other problems as well❤️ And please don't forget, if you want to talk or vent about anything, I'm always here for you, angel. You're not alone. I love you so very much💗💗

You know what, I just told Jervis and Billy to hug you real tight and take care of you to make sure you get enough sleep and rest. Gosh, they love you so so much and unconditionally. And so do I. Always❤️❤️

I wish you the best evening ever!! That you spend lots of time with all of your F/Os. I'm sending you all my love back. And of course also from me a tight, warm (or maybe better not warm, if the weather is still so hot with you😅), loving hug. I'm thinking of you, my love💜💜

[otomeramblings]

And then the Sun Shone so Bright

Pairing: None; Tenma-centric A/N: hhhh I’m sorry this took me so long! I was having a hard time finding motivation to write during these past 2 weeks. But! inspiration finally struck. I originally was gonna make this romantic but then parts of the song gave me natsugumi feels and well, here we are lol But also! I’m sorry I didn’t include Kumon but I haven’t read episode 6 yet;;; Thank you so much, @chewie-santatoast​​!! You’re very kind and I’m glad you like what I put out there!! I hope you like this one too and thank you for requesting~~ 

🎵 Song: Best of Me by BTS 🎵

As Igawa finished sending a message, he pocketed his phone and lifted his gaze to see Tenma still eyeing the rack of keychains in the back corner of the store. The bags with sweet treats they had picked up still hung from Tenma’s wrist as he stood there, one hand on his hip and one on his chin, clearly trying to find something.

After shooting wrapped up, they went to one of the local bakeries to buy some souvenirs for Tenma’s theatre troupe. It was something he had taken the habit of doing and while he was surprised by it at first, Igawa was fast to encourage this new development; after the first time, he always made sure that whenever the boy had a shoot out of town or overseas, they would always be able to find a moment in their schedule so that he could buy something he could bring back.

They had been doing some window shopping after successfully purchasing the treats when Tenma stopped in front of one of the stores and insisted on going inside.

If he had to venture a guess, Igawa would say that the object that had originally caught Tenma’s attention was the small bonsai keychain that now dangled from in between his fingers. He couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed in his face at that; Tenma’s love for bonsai, while strange in the eyes of his peers for a boy his age, was actually something Igawa himself had grown incredibly fond of since it was one of the topics (besides acting) that actually made Tenma ramble with excitement. Since he had already had his hands on it, though, Igawa had an inkling as to what he was now searching for.

After a few minutes, and having four more keychains in his hands, Tenma strode towards the register. As he placed the items on the counter, Igawa could see that his hunch had been spot-on. Tenma threw a quick glance his way and he must have seen the way in which his manager was fighting back a smile because he quickly spoke up:

“They would just bug me later if I only got one for myself.”

“Of course, Tenma,” he replied with a small nod. It was an excuse but Igawa knew better than to try to get Tenma to admit it, so he didn’t press for more.

As his eyes inspected each of the designs as the cashier rang them up, he understood what had taken the boy so long when he was picking them. He could tell exactly which one would go to each person just by looking at them. Igawa admittedly didn’t know the members of the Summer Troupe very well, but he had gathered quite a bit of information from his conversations with Tenma.

Next to the small bonsai tree, there was a little white kitten wearing a pink bonnet;

“Dammit,” Tenma clicked his tongue seeing the traffic-jam they were stuck in. “I know it’s frustrating but can’t you let them know that you’ll be late for rehearsals?” Igawa spared a glance his way and saw that Tenma was already typing something on his phone. “Yeah, but that’s not the problem,” he grumbled. “We are trying on the new costumes today and Yuki’s already difficult enough normally. I don’t need to give him another excuse to call me- a hack, oh for the love of-.” Judging from the exasperated tone in his voice and the quick typing that followed, Igawa could guess what response Tenma had received and he tried his best to squash down his amusement before commenting again. “Yuki? That’s….Rurikawa, right? You mentioned he’s in charge of making all of the company’s costumes? He did a really good job for your debut performance.” After seeing the state in which the theatre was, a part of him had honestly been worried about the production quality, but he had been blown away by it and the costumes were one of the things that had impressed him the most. “Yeah,” Tenma sighed before putting his phone down. “I hate to admit it, but the kid’s got some real talent in that department and he has potential in acting as well. Now if only he could do something about that snarky attitude of his,” Tenma complained but Igawa could hear the tint of fondness that hid in his tone behind his initial annoyance.

next to it, there was a pink crown with white and gold accents;

“Is that a new script?” Igawa asked when he saw the manilla envelope resting on Tenma’s lap once he entered the car. He knew Tenma wasn’t scheduled to shoot anything soon but it wouldn’t be long until the Summer Troupe started their rehearsals for their new play. “No, this is one of dad’s old scripts.” Seeing the surprise on his face, Tenma added: “I asked him if I could lend it to one of my troupe mates and he agreed.” “Oh?” “Yeah, remember when dad had to play that prince character in a drama?” He did remember; that performance had earned Mr Sumeragi a couple of awards when he was just starting his career. At Igawa’s hum of affirmation, Tenma continued: “Well, one of my troupe members wants to act in a similar role in the future, so I thought giving this a look would help him have a more concrete idea of what it’s like.” Igawa nodded with a smile. “His acting and his presence on stage still need some work, but I think reading this can not only motivate him but also give him some inspiration since it has all the annotations dad made on it when he used it.” Tenma was using that determined and straightforward tone that often laced his voice whenever he spoke about anything related to acting; it reminded him that despite his young age, he was a professional through and through. One thing that had always been true about Tenma was that he was a perfectionist and someone incredibly proud of his work; because of that, he expected that everyone met the same standards he had for himself. That hadn’t changed after he started performing with Mankai, but the way he went about it when talking to his colleagues was definitely different and he was now seeing exactly where it rooted from.

next to that one, there was probably the most unique keychain of the bunch: a small almost translucent triangle protractor,

“Is that homework?” Igawa asked as he closed the door of the trailer. Tenma paused his furious scribbling when he heard his manager’s question and the guilty darting of his eyes told the answer before he even opened his mouth. “......no…...I’ll do it after I finish this!” he scrambled to answer. Igawa sighed a bit in response; Tenma hated doing his school work and usually he would push him to work on it but since he knew that there was a professional tutor in the dorms that could help him, he decided to let him off the hook this time.

“So, what were you writing then?”

“Oh!” Tenma’s eyes lit up at the question. “I just thought up a few ideas I want to try out the next time we have to do street acts. Some of them are a bit advanced but I think Misumi and I could pull them off.” “Really?” he inquired, sitting across from the boy and taking a sip from his coffee. “Yeah.” he shook his head as he closed the notebook. “Misumi’s talent is kinda terrifying; if we could do something to help him focus more, he could probably be as good as me.” Igawa’s eyebrows shot up at that since Tenma was not one to give out praise freely to anyone. If he recalled correctly, Ikuraga’s performance had probably been the second best on their show next to Tenma’s, so while he was shocked by the admission, he could definitely see where the actor was coming from. “I didn’t know you started putting stickers on your things.” Igawa pointed out when his gaze fell on the notebook. “What? No, I don’t-” Tenma exclaimed but stopped himself when his eyes landed on the stickers that adorned the back of his notebook. An ice-cream cone, a slice of watermelon and onigiri surrounded a bigger yellow triangle that had a few words scribbled on with a marker. Twisting his neck, he was able to make out the words: “Good luck, Tenma~~!! (*^▽^*)”

and, finally, there was a paint pallet with a small brush dipped in green paint.

“Yes, yes, I’ll ask him about it. Yes, mom, I won’t forget. Okay, bye.”

“Everything okay?” Igawa asked once Tenma hung up, his eyes focused on the road. “Huh?” the boy asked absentmindedly as he opened another app on his phone. “Yeah, it’s nothing serious. She told me she wants a copy of the poster of Water Me! since it was our first performance. I told her that they already had the flyer with the picture but she says it’s too small, so I told her that I could probably ask Kazunari to make another copy since he’s the one that designed the final version.” He was trying to act nonchalant about it, but Igawa could hear the pride in his voice, happy that his parents were openly acknowledging and accepting his theatre career.

“It is an important milestone,” the manager nodded and then added. ”And it was a beautiful poster.” Tenma hummed in agreement. “Yeah, Kazunari can be obnoxious as hell but he’s got a real eye for design. All of the company’s posters and our website are a testament to that,” he admitted as he scrolled on his phone. “He’s probably gonna be over the moon once I ask him for a copy.” They had arrived at the dorms so Igawa could see Tenma rolling his eyes in what could be mistaken for exasperation were it not for the slight smile on his face. He had seen Kazunari Miyoshi once after their first (eventful) meeting and in that occasion the older boy had Tenma in a side hug while they took a selfie together and what had caught Igawa’s attention was that despite the fact that Tenma didn’t really like taking selfies with people (besides the occasional fan), the protests that came from his mouth were half-hearted at best and it didn’t take long for him to settle and smile for the picture. After it was taken, he could hear Miyoshi saying he would caption it with “Nothing better than some Ice-cream after rehearsals with TenTen!!”

Each of the keychains had gold chains and gold borders and detailing, making it obvious that they were part of the same set despite the wide variety of designs.

As the employee put them all in separate bags after Tenma told her they were gifts, Igawa couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth nor the fondness that seeped through his voice when he said: “I’m sure they’ll love them.”

The actor just shrugged in response. “Of course they will,” he replied with confidence but his manager could see the redness in the tips of his ears.

Tenma had always been a good kid. Arrogant and too blunt at times, yes, but never with the intention of hurting others. However, being in the spotlight from such a young age had isolated him from his peers and his parents' constant travelling only served to make him build even more walls around himself; be confident and keep your head up, your work is what matters, that was the motto by which Tenma lived his life and that was a big detriment in any interpersonal relationships he could have formed. But now, seeing him fuss over which souvenirs to bring to his friends, the deep mark the Mankai Company left on him was glaringly obvious. 

He remembered the genuine concern he showed when his parents wanted him to quit. It was one of the few times he saw Tenma’s eyes tainted with fear; and at first, Igawa had thought he had been afraid of the possibility that this project he had worked so hard towards would be crushed, but later on he learned that it was more than that, it was the fear of having to let go of the people who had managed to bring down his walls and had put their all in supporting him so he could turn his past regrets into victories.

Tenma had never looked happier than he did now and that translated to his acting as well; he still carried himself with confidence but now there was also a lightness to his steps that wasn’t there before. Igawa knew that Mankai and the Summer Troupe probably didn’t really understand how much they had truly helped Tenma become a better version of himself in every sense but he would forever be thankful for it.

🎵 Part of the song-based requests [closed] 🎵

[jebazzled]

should you open a site?

Hi there! If you've been around the block a time or two in rp, you've probably thought about opening a site of your own - or maybe you've already given it a go. How did it go?

Mixed reviews, yeah?

Here's the thing: the Venn Diagram of people who want to staff a site & people who are well-suited to staffing a site actually has very little overlap. You probably should not open a site, or if you are going to, you should make sure you're doing it in a way you can sustain and for the right reasons.

In today's tutorial, we're going to unpack the reasons people are drawn to staffing - both good reasons and bad reasons - as well as the things that most frequently close sites. Hopefully, this will give you some good shit to think about next time you get that itch. You know the one.

Before we launch into some troubleshooting, I'd like to talk about staffing more broadly, and why it should matter to you whether you are doing a good job.

Of course, it's important to do a good job managing your site so that it has some longevity, builds a positive community, and becomes a place that people enjoy spending time.

But it is also important to remember that

when you staff a site, the site becomes part of your reputation.

The roleplay community is both very large and very small - there are always people you've never met before, but there are also always people around who you recognize. Stick around long enough, and you start to see people who always seem to be buzzing a project that doesn't open. You see people who are always staff searching. You see people who habitually buzz, open, and ghost two or three or more projects a year.

Maybe you are one of those people.

Folks notice, dude. There are a number of folks in the rp community who I am sure are perfectly nice, but whose sites I will never join, because I know from observation that they will ghost or formally close the site within three months.

No one will straight up tell you, "hey, you have a reputation for being super flaky." But it might be why you have a hard time filling a staff search. It might be why a buzz or opening is lackluster. It might be why none of your members seem to be super committed to your site: they assume you, too, are not very committed to your site.

It is in your best interests for future projects that your current projects go well. So you should consider carefully, before asking a dozen or more people to invest their time and creative energy towards your site, whether you will be able to sustain the project.

A lot of people treat staffing a site as the inevitable next step when you've been in rp a long time, and that is simply not the case. Staffing isn't about having ideas or talent. Staffing is about project management.

Staff don't need plot and lore ideas: you can crowdsource these from members.

Staff don't need coding or graphics skills: you can commission these from creators in resource communities.

Staff don't even need to be excellent writers.

Staff need to be able to set goals and achieve them, delegate and accomplish tasks, mediate conflict, and manage and recalibrate expectations. This is, of course, very unsexy, and often is tedious: updating claims, monitoring activity, engineering and executing events. I think a lot of people remember what a fucking pain it is to do ads all the time and it's the first thing they stop doing, which then means they don't have new blood to replace the folks who joined and ghosted after the buzz, and then the site dies. None of it is open heart surgery, but all of it is at least somewhat important.

If you don't want to do the boring day-to-day work of staffing, you shouldn't staff! Members on site don't have to do that shit, and also get to opt out on the emotionally exhausting work of conflict mediation, app review, etc. You can be a longtime roleplayer who never staffs. It's allowed.

But you want to open a site. Or you have opened sites and it's been underwhelming. For whatever reason, you're here. So sure. Let's talk about opening sites.

Reasons to open a site

There are lots of reasons why someone might want to open a site. Some reasons are better than others, with the broad distinction that writing-centric reasons are generally much stronger reasons to open a site than psychology-driven reasons.

GOOD REASON: Control

If the pro of not running a site yourself is the lack of responsibility, the con is the lack of control. Being a member means you're dependent on admins to keep the site open - and we've all been in situations where the staff of a site lost interest before we did. Being a member also means being at the mercy of the staff for plot, lore, and etc, depending on your community. On a "member-driven" site you might feel more empowered to have a hand in the worldbuilding - but if the staff decides to double down on the one subplot you thought was stupid and boring, you're left navigating having a good time by yourself.

Opening a site because you want to be able to rely on the site's availability and attractiveness to you for your own writing needs isn't a bad reason to open a site. After all, we build the community and the environment we want to see. So if you don't like something in a writing community, and it's not something you can work with staff to fix - it might make sense to build a community that does fill those needs.

GOOD REASON: Ideas

"Having ideas" is, in my opinion, the least important thing when it comes to staffing. But it can be a reason to open a site of your own! If you have a fictional world you can't find elsewhere, or a really specific overarching plot idea, or a rich vision of lore, it might be easier for you to develop your own playground for these ideas than to bend them to fit an existing site.

BAD REASON: Control

"JB, JB, how can it be two things at once?" Because! Haven't we all been on sites where the admin staff were on a major power trip? When admins start making decisions for members and against a member's wishes, whether it be for character progression or plot development, admins are being unreasonable and demanding. Remember: this is a collaborative hobby. If you can't handle the idea of a member writing something without your eyes on it, you are likely getting too invested in having power over what other people write, and you need to back way off.

BAD REASON: Influence/Importance

Writing is such a personal and intimate thing, and it becomes so easy to get too emotionally invested in how people write or don't write with you. We all know people in the rp community who base their sense of self around rp (I go in on it at length in my troubleshooting tutorial here). These are the people who will have 5 characters accepted within a week of joining, with 20 threads written with 2/3 of the site's members, and who will leave in a tearful hurry within a month saying they feel excluded.

Do you feel Seen?

If you are relying on rp to tame your insecurities, it is never going to work. Staffing a site, claiming the most important canons, and having your hands in every subplot won't automatically make you the most popular person on the site. And even if it did? You would still be insecure, because that is some shit you have to work through offline, dude.

Do not open a site because you think being the admin will make you feel important/popular/beloved. It is not about whether or not you actually are included or excluded in a community - until you unpack your insecurity and your sense of constantly being overlooked or excluded, you could plot with literally every character combination possible and you wouldn't be happy.

If you are wanting to staff because you like to feel special/important/etc, the problem is not the site. It is you. You are never going to get that fulfillment from staffing a site.

You need to work through this without the pressure of running a site.

Why do you want to open a site? Is it for a good reason, or a bad reason? Is it just because you feel like you should? I shouldn't have to tell you that that is a stupid reason.

Opening a site for the wrong reason is a losing proposition.

If you open a site because you want tight creative control, you are going to frustrate your writers, who will likely go elsewhere to write more freely. If you open a site because you want to feel important, you're going to take it very personally when people get mad at you for admin things like denying their apps, handling their interpersonal conflicts with impartiality, or turning down their proposition to turn your Harry Potter site into a Harry Potter/Doctor Who crossover.

If people feel driven out by your power-hungry attitude and rigidity, your site's activity will die, and it will get harder to recruit new people, and it will fizzle out until you either ghost or tell your four remaining members that you're throwing in the towel.

If you feel personally attacked by the thankless work of staffing, you will emotionally burn out, and likely either ghost your own site, or close it. If you are a person prone to lashing out, you might first encounter massive interpersonal drama.

If you are going to open a site, do it for the right reason.

Reasons to close a site

Let's also talk a little about those of us who have opened sites before. Most of us - if not every single one of us - have also closed a site. Sites close for a lot of reasons, and they aren't all admin's fault: a site is, after all, a community. Sometimes the community loses interest, grows apart, or otherwise dissipates. But it is true that staff sets the tone, and that ultimately, staff are who decide to put the board offline.

So maybe you've closed a site. Maybe you're one of the people I mentioned earlier who buzzes, opens, and closes three sites a year. Let's take a good, hard look at why your site closed. It might be a good reason not to open a site again - at least not until you figure out your root issue.

Time

One of the most common reasons why admins will close a site is a lack of time. Real life gets too busy, and the grind of keeping the site up is just too much. It happens! RP is no one's real job. Everyone has a real life.

Not having time to staff won't necessarily be a nail in your reputation's coffin. But it is a reason that you should take into account next time you have the itch to staff.

Some situations are more understandable than others, as far as scheduling goes. For example, if you open a site the summer after graduation when you have a lot of time, and then realize how time-consuming job-hunting is, you might close your site to make time. If you open a site while sitting comfortably at a low-stress job and then you switch to a fast-paced, customer-facing position, you might have less energy and less downtime for the site. If you opened a site when your kid went to grade school, and now you're homeschooling them during the pandemic, you simply might not have time anymore.

The commonality here? A circumstance changed, and the person living the circumstance didn't expect the change. It was a surprise.

By contrast, if you're a tax accountant, you know when your busy season is, and it would be stupid and irresponsible for you to open a site in December knowing that you're about to be bogged down in tax season until April. If you're a school teacher, you know that the start of the year is a whirlwind, and it would be stupid and irresponsible to open a site on the first day of school. If you know that normally your workload doesn't even allow you time to participate on a site as a member, it would be ridiculous for you to open a site during a two-week slow period.

You can close a site because you're too busy for it. You can do it again, a couple of years later. But if you make a habit of doing it - and doing it often - people are going to notice that you just don't have time for the sites you want to open.

I remember being on a site several years ago that closed seemingly without warning. The staff said they didn't have time to run the site anymore, a claim I took at face value - until a month later, when they opened a new project.

I remember being deeply annoyed: either they had been dishonest about the reason for the site's closure, or they were stupid enough to think that a month-long lull was reason enough to expect to be able to maintain a site. If you are too busy to keep your site open, that is fine - but you then shouldn't open another site until you have been distinctly not-busy for a while.

You can take steps to mitigate time constraints, on your next project: you might build out your site's world and administrative process around what tasks you can automate with scripts and etc, to minimize the amount of administrative tasks you need to do. You might go no-app to skip another task. If you're a person who experiences time-blindness, and you have no idea how long you spend on any task, you will need to deliberately select your staff based on their ability to execute tasks on time and efficiently in ways that you cannot.

Staffing may also just not be for you! And there is nothing wrong with that.

Burnout

You might find yourself worn down with the grind of staffing: the ads, the claims, the app review, the mediating conflict, the way your own writing can often come last. The concessions you might make to plots you'd like to do in the interest of pleasing the greater site community. Etc. It's a lot, and it's a thankless job.

And it's always going to be like that. You can counter some of the things that suck up your time - automate claims, go no-app, narrow down your advertising to a tiny list of blogs and servers rather than a dozen directories - but staffing is always going to be, at times, exhausting and thankless. If it's too exhausting and thankless to be worth sticking around - that's fine! But you can't keep being surprised that staffing is like this. It isn't really a realization you can have more than maybe twice, and it's not a realization you can keep having at two months in and expect it not to be a sticking point.

Premature Death Calls

Listen: your site is not dying two weeks after the site buzz. The swarm of activity when you opened was an artificial high caused by bottlenecking your membership intake. Keep posting your ad after your site opens to keep new members coming in so even when your site buzz population moves on to the next buzz, you've got members there. Don't throw in the towel too early, Denise!

Boredom

Unlike the above, where site buzz members move on to the next buzz because they're always chasing the next big thing, you being bored with your site is a potential reason to close. After all, you're the one putting in the time and energy. If you're not vibing with it, it's not like the community is entitled to you keeping the site open as charity work.

But similarly to the time reasoning: this is a rationale you can only use sparingly.

If you have a habit of losing interest on an idea, you should not be opening sites. It is one thing to misjudge your interest and its longevity once. But if you do it two or three times a year - it's a pattern, and you shouldn't ask a dozen or more people to invest their creative energy into something if you know there's a strong possibility you'll lose interest within a few months.

(It will not be different this time, dude. It is never different.)

Drama

Any community of people is not without conflict. Sometimes, the conflict gets to be too much, and whether your members scatter to avoid it or you close to be done with it - it's worth evaluating if it happens more than once. If site drama keeps closing your site, the call might be coming from inside the house.

If you came on staff because you wanted to feel special and important: you are likely causing some of the drama. When you take it so personally whether or not people write with you, how much they write with you, etc, you are setting up for your expectations to 1) be unreasonable 2) to not be met.

If you came on staff because you like control, you might be too rigid, and your controlling and unyielding approach to your site may be driving your members away.

If every site you run closes due to drama, you might look at their common denominator. What behavior do you exhibit that might be unwelcoming, abrasive, or toxic?

(Linkin Park voice) Breaking the habit

People notice, if you are constantly opening sites that die after two months. RP is a weird atmosphere where two things are constant:

Sites often have a shelf life of 2-4 months before they die either due to admin neglect, lack of new membership, or infighting with the existing members

Sites are often being launched by the same people over and over again

Which is to say, I think some of us in the resource/admin chat space tend to think of early site death as a problem of member attention - people being drawn away from existing sites by new and shiny buzzes. This is true to an extent - but I think we latch onto it because it absolves us of the truth that some admins are not just bad admins, but habitual bad admins.

To be clear, I don't mean that they are nasty people - just that they have a track record of not being great at keeping a site open. But just as some people are perennial site hoppers - some admins are perennial site starters, and that doesn't seem to be something talked about with as much depth as site hoppers. And perennial site starters feed the site hopper problem: if the perennial site starter wasn't opening a new buzz every two months, the site hopper wouldn't have a new flashy thing to get instant gratification on, would they? They would need to do some more long term plotting and character development.

I've staffed my site for two and a half years now, and the relief of having a space with such longevity is incredible. Because my community trusts that the site isn't going to close on a whim, people invest in long-term plots - for example, when we polled members in March asking if they wanted a specific event to happen in the spring or in the fall, an overwhelming majority opted for fall. Six months out, six months to plot and thread and worldbuild - on so many other sites, it would feel risky to count on anything that far in advance.

Wouldn't it be nice to have more stability in the rp world? More opportunity for deeper plotting and character development, slow burn plots that are legitimately slow to burn, the satisfaction of executing a plot years in the making. We can have that, if we focus less on having a vast number of short-lived sites and more on building sustainable, welcoming communities that allow for ebb and flow without going straight to closure any time there's a slow or difficult period. We can have that, if we're more thoughtful in our staffing - even if it means not staffing at all.

I hope this tutorial was helpful to you! As always, feel free to drop your requests for future tutorials in my askbox. In the meantime, all best, and happy writing!

[gascon-en-exil]

Mercilessly Judging the Men of Fòdlan: The Empire

It’s been a long time coming, over eight months in fact, but now that it may be assumed that the last of the DLC has been released and the fandom as a whole has settled comfortably into its various camps I think there’s no better time than now to answer that burning question: how raunchily, outrageously gay can the male cast of Three Houses possibly be? For those unfamiliar with this fun little series of mine, I’ve been applying my extensive knowledge and experience of gay male sex and hookup culture to the men of Fire Emblem, originally as a way of reckoning with the refusal of the games themselves to provide me with any worthwhile self-insert M/M content. I stand by that premise for FE16 - you all know how absolutely nothing appeals to me about m!Byleth or his prospects on that score - but in the years since my first outing of merciless judgment with Awakening that idea has expanded into something broader, an imaginative modern AU of sorts where all these guys are into men (if not always exclusively) and willing to put themselves out there in the lewd and semi-anonymous world of hookup apps in search of their preferred carnal delights.

A note on organization before we begin, as this material is too long to cram into one post. Excluding Byleth (as Avatars and their spawn always are for this project) there are twenty-one playable male characters in Three Houses. This makes for an even threeway division to preserve the eponymous conceit of the game, but not a particularly neat one. Aligned with the Adrestian Empire I therefore have below the male Eagles, Crimson Flower-exclusive Jeritza, former Imperial noble Hanneman, and...Seteth, because he’s the closest thing to a non-self-insert lord figure in Silver Snow and because he had to end up somewhere. As I said, not very neat.

The Kingdom

The Alliance

Hubert

His profile is sparsely filled out and his photo less than promising, but the select few who catch his eye will be treated to a courteous (if mildly acidic) barrage of introductory messages and polite requests to meet over coffee or a light lunch, no dick pics or requests for same in sight. It’s only after the exchange of small talk has passed that someone - could be you, could be him - brings up why he has kink as a listed interest, opening up a Pandora’s box of horrors as he casually shows you some of his photo collections. Asses red from whips and floggers, scrotums stuck through with pins, barbed cock rings, electrified nipple clamps, and ghastly shots of the man himself, his mouth dripping with blood over a fresh bite wound on his teary-eyed partner’s shoulder. He is, he explains, a Dom at heart - and the rougher the better. What he doesn’t explain and likely never will is that all that pain play and torture porn neatly covers for the fact that he’s less endowed and less skilled in that area than he’d be willing to admit, or that he harbors a secret longing to be Dommed himself, probably by someone close to him who has no interest whatsoever. He takes his career very seriously although you’ll never learn exactly what that entails, but you have a sneaking suspicion that whatever it is enables all those coldly violent impulses he displays in the bedroom.

Favorite erotic tea time subjects: CBT, vore, femdom

Favored gift: stiletto heels, for use on his face

Ferdinand

Within a minute of talking to him you know his full name, what prominent public figure(s) he’s related to, and where he plans on going with his life, in an overwhelming display of lack of concern for keeping his private life private that would be worrying if he didn’t pair it with an indefatigable self-confidence. The type of gentleman who expects flowers and opened doors and one person to pay for a whole date and coy blushing about going back to his place for some tea, but what unfolds afterwards may be surprising to anyone who wasn’t picking up on the subtext during the night out: that you’re dealing with a toned and vigorous vers/bottom who longs to lie back and be taken care of but absolutely will never turn down a challenge or request no matter how much it demands of him or how expertly he will be able to rise to the occasion. Long practice and some truly enviable thighs (he’s a noted equestrian, and loves showing off his album of favorite horses) let him milk a cock for hours - nearly as long as the subsequent pillow talk will be. It’s little wonder more than one of his lovers has had the idea to gag him...or to fuck him somewhere outside his bedroom once they go in and find the walls plastered with posters of his favorite pop and stage divas staring at you. Prime trophy husband material, wealthy and well-connected and fetching on anyone’s arm, but there’s no question that he’ll only be truly happy if he’s with someone who can challenge him to step out of his unusually large comfort zone: socially, professionally, or sexually.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: edging, crossdressing, fisting

Favored gift: a horse cock dildo, for his much-lauded huge hole

Linhardt

A master at genuinely negligent ghosting, it’ll take a minor miracle to actually arrange a meeting with this guy. Either he never answers, or he does but only to snap at you because he’s busy and only even logged into the app because his mind wandered for a second. Still, he draws a lot of attention from those into geeky twinks. Is not into foreplay, and can scarcely be bothered to maintain interest long enough to even stay hard unless you get lucky enough to hit on one of his subjects of recent fascination. Never offers to do anything in bed, and will in fact pick up his phone to browse through Wikipedia and Reddit while he’s being penetrated. Calling him out for his appalling lack of manners will get nothing more than a wry snort and a quick summary of whatever’s currently got his attention. Never cums, doesn’t seem to want to cum, and guys creative enough to try to ride him are often disappointed that he’s more likely to grumble that all that bouncing on his pelvis is making it impossible for him to catch a power nap. Just about the only way to fully get him invested is to get really weird - introduce him to some fetish he’s never thought to try. Incest kink, breeding kink, role reversals, elaborate roleplay...the more cerebral the better, because the physical stuff tends to put him off (especially blood play, which is his hard limit). Needless to say most aren’t up to that task, and so he’s nonchalantly left a trail of frustrated and disappointed men in his wake.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: somnophilia, historical roleplay, mpreg

Favored gift: a long-lasting vibrator, so he can stick it in and let it work while he’s otherwise occupied

Caspar

No amount of headless torso pics and carefully scaled dick pics will be enough for his ego, but encountering him in person will reveal that he’s not so much vain or delusional masc4masc as really, really compensating for something. This manifests as a deep-rooted resentment against guys taller than him or, ahem, better-proportioned, but his preference of sexual partners does not reflect his prejudices - which is fortunate for him given his measurements. Loud and energetic in all things, and it shocks no one that he’s a screamer in bed but also can’t last for very long once he really gets going. Lucky for everyone that his refractory period is unusually brief, although that leaves him deflecting odd inquiries into whatever substances he may be on (he’s clean and always has been, hard as that is for anyone to believe). Likes to top for the workout, but he won’t say no to riding a good dick. Has an unexpected sentimental side he’s not very good at expressing except indirectly, in the same way that he’s apparently oblivious to his casual innuendos. It will take someone very patient to put up with him, but the reward is (probably) worth it for the body alone provided he’s got a sufficient outlet for all that energy. Would be perfect for an active poly relationship or long-term FWB situation so no one guy has to manage him alone, but he’d have to be at the center of any such arrangement lest his numerous insecurities rear their heads. Is not into incest kink.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: post-workout sex, multiple orgasms, autofellatio (he wishes)

Favored gift: condoms a size too big for him, because even safe sex should be an opportunity for bragging

Seteth

He doesn’t share nudes, and says upfront that he’ll block anyone who asks or opens conversation with one. Seems to be genuinely interested in friendship over anything else, although he’s not great at small talk in text and would rather chat over snacks on a park bench or at one of the numerous community events he likes to organize. Is a family man through and through: devoted to his loved ones, quiet in his hobbies, and unusually spiritual in an orthodox church-going way. You start to wonder if he’s even into men or if his presence on the apps was just a very strange fluke, but he holds his handshakes just a little too long and progresses quicker to hugs and quietly intimate arm touches. Discussion of his prior love life is strictly off limits, but many months down the road when you finally get invited into his bed it’s clear that he’s no blushing virgin and is adept in the use of fingers, tongue, and cock for fully satisfying his partner. He might even bottom, although he’ll blush about being long out of practice in that area which suggests a wealth of untold stories by itself. He also may be, somehow, the only man in existence who knows what intercrural is and how to do it. Blessed with stamina far beyond what might be suggested by his age (which he only reveals several weeks into your acquaintance, another point of embarrassment for him), your encounters are far more likely to end with a phone call from one of the innumerable people who look up to him and depend upon his reliable if fussy sense of duty than it is from him tiring out. Fond of fishing, and known to take dates out to cast a line and then maybe have some naughty fun afterward. Does not appreciate being called a daddy, but he’s been known to accept big bro as an occasional slip-up.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: discipline, incest kink, scalies

Favored gift: your STI testing history, because he doesn’t mess around with that stuff

Hanneman

A polite if unassuming silver daddy, with no sugar for the obvious escorts but the cushy professional post and generosity to make him appealing to a less openly mercantile sort of young man. His chosen field is not an easy subject for light conversation, but damned if he doesn’t try his best regardless. His favorite tactic might be finding some way of applying his work to something about his date, no matter how tenuous the connection or how unwelcome the observations. Not super fit and doesn’t get out much so as the night is winding down he’s not good for very much other than intermittent blowjobs and even more languid handjobs, although a truly dedicated partner might coax something more out of him with help from a little blue pill or two...and maybe some poppers, because he’s old enough to remember when everyone used those. Despite his reputation for mildly inappropriate perving on guys young enough to be his sons - some of which he acquired in a professional context, with some of his favorite anecdotes of past trysts involving junior lab techs/TAs/secretaries/others among his subordinates - he’s not actually averse to fooling around with men closer to his own age, although he’s more awkward about it since he’s a bit out of his element when he’s no longer the only experienced voice of wisdom in the room. Either way, if there’s one thing he hates it’s sloppiness, whether in one’s personal or professional life. As a result he avoids bars like the plague and has little patience for drunks. Contrary to this fastidiousness however his advances in his career are such that he may one day do something radical and ill-advised in the pursuit of knowledge; one only hopes that the various skeletons hiding in his closet don’t come back to haunt him - with regret or harassment lawsuits or who only knows what else.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: medical kink, teacher/student, cock milking

Favored gift: consent to video encounters, for future reference

Jeritza

The kind of rough trade all your friends warned you about...except he’s not rough trade, not really. Deeply troubled and disarmingly attractive is a deadly combination, and he thrives in a medium where one-word responses and explicit pics are considered perfectly commonplace. Encounters with him are quick and rough and nearly anonymous, always in the dark and with little opportunity to see or interact with him apart from the hands grasping you to him and the admittedly impressive cock jabbing into you from whatever angle he can manage. He’s had the threat of assault charges or worse thrown at him more than once, but it’s never made him any more considerate or careful. To the very rare individual who keeps returning for more the most explanation he’ll ever provide is that he becomes someone else when pursuing sex, someone hard and violent and not at all like the person he insists that he is. This is something he ties into some deep-seated trauma, but there’s something distinctly insincere about the underlying psychology as if it were only an excuse for an abuse fetish run wild. Pretty much all of his tricks ghost him at that point, wanting to get as far as away as possible from a true crime drama just waiting to happen. Curiously enough if he ever does find a long-term partner it won’t be with the expected extreme masochist - expect them only to show up in a police report one day, with extremely gory pictures - but with someone who can match his lustful bloodlust with more of the same and who is totally comfortable throwing around death threats that at some point transform into only moderately disturbing innuendos. 

Favored erotic tea time subjects: masks, blood play, asphyxiation

Favored gift: anything sweet he can lick off your body...because it’s either that or viscera

[superlinguo]

Linguistics Jobs: Interview with a Software Engineer

Like today’s interviewee, Brooke Lynne Weaver, I worked through my undergrad degree. While not everybody is lucky enough to be able to do both study and work, it can be a useful way to develop skills beyond those in the classroom. I now use my coffee making skills only for self-caffeination, but cafe life taught me a lot about task prioritising and staying upbeat under pressure. Brooke used her work experience to move into Software Engineering, and uses her linguistics in her approach to her work, and her everyday life. Brooke is also on Twitter (@Milayou).

What did you study at university?

My degree is in English Language (Linguistics with an emphasis on the English language) from Brigham Young University in Utah, U.S.A. Basically, when we covered morphology, syntax, phonetics, phonology, sociolinguistics etc. it mostly focused on those applications in English, with some examples and work from other world languages. I also took a couple computer science classes and worked as a web developer while in school.

What is your job?

I'm a software engineer. Right now my job title is Platform Engineer, and at my last job it was Platform Architecture Engineer. I write code based on the needs of my company, which generally involves understanding the task you need the computer to perform autonomously, and doing a bunch of Googling to remind yourself (or learn) how to tell it to do that. You run the code, look for certain things to happen, tweak the code, run it again, look for different results, tweak it again, run it again etc. The ask from the company is generally as specific as humans tend to be, which is not nearly as specific as machines tend to be; you have to be on the lookout for instructions that should be given that were never expressly asked for by the company in order for everything to run smoothly. Our stack is mostly written in Python 2.7 but we're moving to Go, and the project I just finished up has parts written in both. It's really satisfying when you've finally communicated your message properly to the machine and it behaves accordingly.

I work for Vivint.SmartHome right now, doing home automation. I help the Vivint centralized system interact with peoples' homes and phones all over North America. When someone pulls up their Vivint app on their phone, it requests data from our platform. When they want to make changes to their smart home system, it interacts with our platform. Recently I've been helping migrate our Nest integration from using the (now deprecated) Works With Nest API to the new Google Home/Assistant API (a transition Google recently made public).

How does your linguistics training help you in your job?

I like to tell myself I went into translation, just between human and machine languages rather than from one human language to another. The things I learned studying linguistics help me in less obvious ways.

Knowing how flexible semantics is and how language changes so much across time and space, I feel like I'm a much better communicator than I was when I first started college. I'm a lot more flexible in interpretations and I care a lot more about getting to the root of what a person is trying to communicate, rather than what words they chose and what those words mean to me specifically. Communication is a pretty important part of writing software, because you're almost always trying to realize the ideas of other people. Knowing how to be confident you're on the same page as the people requesting your work is critical.

Linguistics also gave me a much better understanding for how important context is. I leave comments everywhere it makes sense to in order to help future engineers understand why I did certain things, which puts them in a better position to understand what to change down the line. It's very common to come across some code written a few years back that seems to make no sense at all (or seems like a bad way to do something), and if someone left a comment explaining why they wrote it that way at that time, you can better decide whether to leave it or in what ways to change it. The comment might say "Here's the current state of affairs and we need to do this weird thing to avoid this problem" and now, several years later, that problem is irrelevant or the current state of affairs has drastically changed; you might not need to do that thing in such a weird way anymore. You can then feel more confident about making your change. Or, maybe the state of affairs has not changed or the problem still exists and still needs to be avoided; you now have really important context and that weird thing might actually look logical now, or you know how to change it while still avoiding the problem it was originally trying to avoid. As an example, earlier this year I implemented a library I wasn't very familiar with in a pretty short amount of time. I left a comment explaining that if someone else was more comfortable with the library, they should feel free to rewrite it in a more idiomatic way; I explained what parts of it I wrote somewhat poorly due to lack of time and familiarity (something like "I know you should be able to do it like A, but I couldn't figure out how to get A to work so I did B instead which isn't as good but gives an acceptable result. It's not deliberately done this way for any other reason, so if you know how to do A, please change it."). A lot of times we try to change legacy code as little as possible, for fear of unknown downstream affects, because we weren't there when it was written and don't know why it was done the way it was; I hope by leaving context comments I can help future engineers feel more comfortable keeping the codebase clean and efficient.

Do you have any advice you wish someone had given to you about linguistics/careers/university?

I have some advice I was given that I think is valuable. I had a really hard time choosing a major field of study because I was interested in almost everything. A counselor reminded me that you can still have any hobby you like, regardless of what you study at university. I was afraid that by choosing something I was cutting myself off from other things, but that's not actually true. I still love playing the piano even though I didn't go into music, and I still love math even though I didn't go into mathematics.

Also, my university offered a lot of student jobs. These were jobs that were only allowed to be worked by students, which meant the barrier to entry was fairly low. I don't know if other universities offer student on-campus jobs, but if they do, I very much recommend them. I worked student jobs the entire time I was at school, which meant I graduated with seven years of work experience. Yes, it took me seven years to get my bachelor degree, but that work experience meant I had no trouble getting jobs after (and even before) I graduated. That said, maintaining a job while going to school is an awful lot of work and it's not the right path for everyone; everyone's situation is different, this just worked out well for me.

Any other thoughts or comments?

Besides how linguistics training helps me at work, it's made me a FAR better human. I'm a reformed pedant. I was really condescending and had a bit of a superiority complex about language when I was young. I was all about correcting and fixing people and being exasperated when people wrote or said things "wrong." Studying linguistics has given me a LOT of empathy and understanding and freed me from most of my pet peeves. My perspective on language and communication is so different now. I feel free. It's a far pleasanter experience to put your energy toward really understanding and being understood by a person than on looking down on people and discrediting their thoughts because they don't know how some dude in the 19th century wanted a part of English to work that doesn't even make sense anyway. I think a lot of unnecessary conflict comes from different groups of people having different understandings of certain words, and fighting over the definition of the word rather than over the real human issue at the heart of the debate. It would be nice if we taught language a little differently in schools, so more people could be aware of how semantic drift occurs and how different people can use the same word to mean different things, and that language change is okay and actually beautiful.

Recently:

Interview with a Product Manager 

Interview with a Communications Specialist

Interview with a Learning Scientist

Interview with a Lexicographer

Interview with a Journalist

[answerbanker30]

Getting started with your own VPS

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The Way to procure a Virtual Dedicated Server Server? If you read about Virtual Server hosting, a few questions obviously arise. Let us say, if there are several users on the identical dedicated server, running virtual servers, will they be able to access my data? That's a valid question to increase, however in this case, The hosting companycan happily tell you that you are safe. All VPS hosting providers are safely partitioned by specific applications, which ensures top-notch protection. Can I install custom applications on my Virtual Private Server server? Yes, you may! That's the beauty of a Virtual Dedicated Server hosting service. It gives unparalleled control over the project! With a virtual host, you can pick between dozens of different Linux-based working systems to fit your requirements. When should you move to Virtual Dedicated Server hosting? The best time to turn to Virtual Private Server hosting is when you've gathered up the specialized knowledge that you may need for this endeavor or when your shared hosting account no longer provides sufficient resources for your own project, and you need to go bigger!

[ft-dads-au]

Once Upon a Nightmare - Chapter 4

Shadowlight Week 2020 Prompt: Coffee Pairing: Sting x Rogue

A Collaboration by @mdelpin​ and @oryu404​

AO3 | Prev: Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Next: Ch 5

Summary: When Sting finally returns home, he dreads having to tell Rogue why he's been out for so long. Not only does he have to confess he told his father everything, but he also needs to mention he has made an appointment with a therapist, a friend of his dad's, who he will be meeting at the coffee shop the next day.

Chapter 4: Coffee

The sound of the key twisting in the lock startled Rogue out of his sleep. He hadn't meant to doze off on the couch, but his nights were short, and the warmth of the sun rising on the side of their bedroom caused him to wake up early, so he should've known it was bound to happen the moment he'd sat down to watch tv as he waited for Sting to return from his run.

His phone must've been in his hand when he'd fallen asleep, as it was now laying right next to him on the couch with the messaging app still open, the text Sting had sent him as a reply displayed on the screen. Looking at the time, Rogue noticed that had been nearly two hours ago.

"Hey, sorry I was gone so long," Sting called from the hallway as he kicked off his running shoes, "I wanted to call you, but my battery died."

There was something off about his voice, it was missing its usual verve and sounded even less like him than it had over the past days. Rogue rubbed the blurriness of sleep out of his eyes and pulled himself off the couch, getting ready to ask why he'd been out for close to 4 hours, but as soon as he saw Sting trudging into the living room, the words got stuck in his throat. He looked exhausted, sweaty, his hair all messed up and sticking to his forehead, and he could flash him that sweet smile all he wanted, but Rogue could easily see that he had been crying.

Worry broke through Rogue's sleepy daze, quickly followed by the heaviness of guilt at the thought that Sting's tears were somehow a result of how dismally the last week had gone. Even though he'd been checked out for large parts of it, Rogue still knew that it was nothing like what they had excitedly planned over phone conversations.

Instead of visits to amusement parks and beaches, the furthest they had ventured out had been the coffee shop. Sitting together on their bench swing to read or watch the sunset was certainly pleasant enough, but it was a far cry from frolicking in the surf or going on fast paced rides, both of which were much more Sting's style.

To his credit, Sting had not complained once about their lack of activity, in fact, he'd been nothing but supportive, even managing to rein in his natural rambunctiousness so that Rogue could get rest. Had Rogue done anything for him in that time?

Try as he might, he couldn't think of a single thing, and that realization made him sad. He was well aware that in many ways, Sting was waiting on him, and it was frustrating that he couldn't seem to move in any direction. That stupid nightmare had destroyed all the progress he'd made in the last few months, hurtling him right back to those first days after the attack. He needed to do better before he managed to lose the one thing that had been holding him together.

Arming himself with courage, he forced himself to stay in the moment, to take care of Sting for once, regardless of how much he feared his response. "What happened?"

"I- uh…" Sting took a deep breath that only fed into Rogue's fear, his heart racing as he tried not to let his imagination run away with him while he waited for Sting to say something.

When a minute had passed, and Sting still hadn't said anything Rogue began to feel awkward and hoping to come up with something to break the silence he looked down at himself, trying to remember how many days he'd been wearing the same set of clothes. To his great embarrassment, he wasn't even sure. He certainly didn't smell pleasant. Not that Sting did either at that moment.

That gave him an idea, one that would hopefully relax Sting enough to be able to tell him whatever was bothering him. "Come on," Rogue beckoned Sting to follow, only stopping long enough to get two clean towels from the linen closet.

He entered his parents' bedroom, which he usually kept closed, leading Sting to their bathroom and the jacuzzi tub it contained. He rarely used it because it was such a pain in the ass to clean up after, and although he wasn't particularly looking forward to it now either, he was willing to put up with it so they could share a nice moment together. At least, he hoped so.

The change of scenery seemed to loosen Sting's tongue, "This is nice," he said as he looked around the large room that was decorated in the blues that both his parents loved. It was devoid of pictures at the moment as his parents had taken the frames with them to the house they were renting in Alvarez, but Rogue could remember the location of each and every one.

Refusing to let himself get caught up in more sad thoughts, he quickly entered the bathroom, knowing Sting would follow. He ran the tap, and as they waited for the tub to fill up, he dove into his mother's bathroom cabinet, picking some brightly colored bath bomb from all the fancy bath supplies she kept there and putting it on top of the laundry basket along with their towels.

"We should rinse off first," he pointed out, frowning in disgust at the staleness of his t-shirt when he pulled it over his head. He didn't know why, maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was because he felt now wasn't the time to be ogling Sting as he was undressing and needed an alternative, but once he'd taken his clothes off, his eyes were drawn to the mirror above the sink.

He didn't see what he'd feared to see, the flashback of his own reflection from right after the attack he'd sometimes see when facing a mirror, but the reality wasn't exactly a load off his mind either.

"You should've told me I looked like an escaped convict," he mumbled while staring at the combined result of his lack of sleep and personal care.

"I mean, I didn't fall for you just for your appearance," Sting retorted weakly.

It was a sweet thing for him to say, and Rogue knew that, but the bitter thought that whatever it was he did end up falling for was probably hard to find was stopping him from feeling touched by it. He quickly tore his gaze away from the mirror again before thoughts like these could get the chance to take root and grow, which would only cause him to turn in on himself even more.

Grabbing Sting's hand, he led them into the shower. "It's probably going to be cold, we're already using hot water for the bath, so…"

"It's fine, I'm all warm and sweaty anyway," Sting shrugged, but when Rogue turned on the water, he yelped and squirmed around, just as Rogue expected.

A soft chuckle escaped him, as he felt glad to see some of his boyfriend's usual silliness return. He grabbed one of the bottles of shampoo and quickly started lathering Sting's hair and body, offering a little bit of warmth.

"T-T-Thanks," Sting managed through clattering teeth before hesitantly returning the favor.

Under different circumstances, if they weren't hurrying to get out from under the cold stream as fast as they could, and if they hadn't both been agitated, it could've been romantic. A preface to something more intimate, the likes of which their relationship had lacked over the past week. That was another thing Rogue regretted, and yet, as much as he'd tried and wanted to, he couldn't break through the veil of numbness he was trapped in. He wished that it was different.

Much to Sting's relief, Rogue turned off the shower, deeming them clean enough to get into the now half full bath. He lowered himself into the water slowly, giving his body time to adjust to the change from cold to hot, unlike Sting, who all but dove right in.

"Go ahead and chuck it in," he said, giving Sting the bath bomb, hoping that fiddling with the packaging would de-stress him a bit as well. He took in Sting's expressions, the concentration on his face as he peeled away the plastic layer and aimed for the trash bin to throw it away.

Sting missed and apologized immediately, "Sorry, I'll go pick it up and throw it out-" he got up, but Rogue grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

"Later," he told him softly. He could care less about leaving a mess right now. He just wanted them both to relax and enjoy the bath.

Sting gave him another weak smile and dropped the bath bomb into the water, watching absently as it fizzed and gave off a deep purple color and the scent of lavender.

"Please don't be mad at me," he mumbled, seemingly out of nowhere, causing Rogue to once again tense up with nerves as he wondered what he should be mad about. Not quite knowing how to filter his racing thoughts to form a response, he just reached out to grab Sting's hand under the water and waited for him to continue.

"I just-I don't know…I want to be there for you, but I don't know how and it's frustrating me. I guess I've been taking out those frustrations on my runs."

Rogue nodded, having noticed that Sting had been gone a bit longer and came back more tired from running than he usually did. He wished he'd taken that more seriously as a sign.

"It hasn't really helped, though," Sting sighed, "so today I ran, and I ran, and I ran...and I ended up near the studio. I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea to go into that alley, but I did, and it really fucked me up."

Rogue flinched, just thinking back to that place, feeling the cold, rough bricks against the back of his head all over again. Smelling the rain and seeing a flash of a dirty wall with a work of artistic vandalism on it.

"I'm sorry, I know you don't want to talk about it, and I get that. I can't even begin to fathom how it must be for you if it's already having such a big effect on me, but that's just the problem. I can't ignore the effect it's having on me anymore."

Rogue could only keep nodding and feel terrible for how difficult he'd been making this. What would he have done if it had been the other way around? If Sting had been the one assaulted and he'd be the one experiencing the fallback of it?

Rogue wished he could say he'd know the right thing to do, what even was the right thing to do when it was all just so wrong?

"I-" Sting hesitated, taking a deep breath as he readied himself to go on, "I called my dad," he finally spilled, "and I told him everything."

Rogue let that sink in. The first reaction he had to it was a deep sense of shame, giving him the desire to shrink into himself. He liked Sting's parents a lot and hated to think about how this might change their opinion about him.

"What, uhm, what did he say?" Rogue stammered, not noticing he'd begun to shake until he felt Sting's arms surround him and heard the word Easy whispered in his ear until he stopped.

"Mostly, he just listened. He's upset that it happened, and uhm, maybe a bit worried about you," Sting cleared his throat nervously, "but he told me I had to let you deal with it in your own way, even if I didn't agree with how you're going about it."

Rogue had to admit he was surprised by that, he'd expected a doctor to demand he undergo some sort of treatment, and he was immensely grateful, even though that advice didn't help Sting's situation any.

"Still, he must think I'm pretty stupid for not doing anything," Rogue mumbled, wondering what his relationship with Sting's father would be like now that he knew about what had happened.

"He thinks no such thing, and you don't have to worry about my mom finding out, he promised to keep it between us," Sting sighed, "He just- he wants us both to get better."

Rogue felt Sting shift in the tub until he was gazing at him earnestly, "I want that too. I love you, none of this changes that. But-," Sting looked away for a moment before fixing him with a determined expression," I need to talk about it, to work through my own guilt and anger before it has the chance to tear us apart."

Rogue wanted to assure him that there was nothing for him to feel guilty about, but Sting wasn't finished, "I made an appointment to speak to a psychiatrist, I'm meeting him tomorrow."

Those words were enough to silence him. He wanted to protest because Sting shouldn't have to go that far just to be with him, but he was also filled with admiration for his boyfriend. He wasn't floundering in the shadows. It had taken him all of one week to go from there's a problem to actively trying to fix it, and it was a worldview that was so alien to Rogue.

How many times in his life had he just ignored problems until they either went away on their own or the decision was taken out of his hands? It was the only way he knew how to be, this was really the first time that approach hadn't really worked. They'd be spending their first time naked in a hot tub together a lot differently if it had, not to mention what should've been the summer of a lifetime.

But the summer wasn't over yet, and Rogue wanted to make the best of the time they had left before they were bogged down with school. If Sting was doing his best effort to improve their situation, then so should he. The idea of going to therapy still sent him into a panic, but the least he could do was take better care of himself. Shower and get dressed every day, even if he ended up staying at home. Stop skipping meals and eat more regularly. Maybe he could pick up his workouts again or try tagging along with Sting for morning runs if he could manage to fix his sleep schedule a bit.

It all sounded so simple, but he knew it wasn't going to be since he'd struggled with it all week. Still, he was determined to try. He'd have to start somewhere, and with that in mind, he vowed that the first thing he'd do once he was out of the bath was to shave off that awful stubble.

The water in the tub had finally risen past the jets, so Rogue turned it off while thinking about what he wanted to say. "I love you too," he responded simply, "and if talking to someone about what happened is what you need, then that's what you should do."

"Thanks," Sting offered him a small smile, already looking more untroubled than he had when he'd first arrived, making Rogue glad he'd offered his approval even if he understood Sting didn't need it.

They lay together in the warm water, just holding each other as the jets came to life, letting them massage their tired bodies into a state of relaxation, one that hopefully would stay with them for a while.

0-0

Even though Sting had talked to the man he was about to meet on the phone the previous day, he still felt nervous, unsure of what to expect. He'd never gone to a therapist before, although he'd never been against the idea. Ever since he was young, his father had drilled into him that healing the mind was just as critical as healing the body, and he accepted that as fact. It was one of the reasons he had so much trouble understanding Rogue's reluctance to getting help.

Despite the pain in his legs, Sting had decided to walk to Magnolia Bean, the coffee shop they'd agreed to meet at, in the hopes it would help him organize his thoughts so he didn't sound like a raving lunatic when they talked. There was so much he wanted to get out, and he knew, of course, that he wouldn't be able to get through it all in one meeting.

Arriving at the coffee shop sooner than he would have liked, he scanned the customers. Dr. Aileron had told him he'd know him the second he saw him, and Sting couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of test. No one really drew his attention. It was the usual mix of weekend shoppers, couples, and friends hanging out. A few people were sitting with their laptops open, and he focused on these first, assuming the doctor would have been working.

It was only on his second scan that Sting noticed the man who was sitting in one of the coveted armchairs, seemingly scanning the room as he sipped his oversized mug. He was older, with a bald head which was nowhere as attention-grabbing as the clothes he was wearing, a pair of striped shorts in bright hues of pink and purple, topped by what could only be described as a magenta cami with wings peeking from either side of his rather broad shoulders. Somehow Sting knew he had found his man, and all his nerves vanished, figuring someone who dressed like that probably gave precisely zero fucks about what anyone thought. He sure as hell wasn't going to judge.

He walked straight up to him and, with a grin, introduced himself, "Dr. Aileron? I'm Sting Eucliffe."

"Call me Bob," the man replied instantly, returning his smile, "and of course you are, you're the spitting image of your father! How is old Weisslogia doing?"

"Pretty good, working hard as always, he's been volunteering long hours at the clinic," Sting responded, trying to decide whether he wanted coffee or not as he examined the long line.

"Ah yes, the clinic, I did some volunteering there myself some years ago," Bob peered at him with a smile, "Sit down, sit down!"

Sting sat in the chair across from the psychiatrist, not entirely sure how he was supposed to act." Do you often see patients here?"

Bob laughed, "Well, technically you're not a patient yet, you are my friend's son, but no, I have an office nearby. I like to hold patient interviews here, though. I find meeting in a familiar place is more relaxing, a lot of people feel anxious when faced with the office. They go in expecting to see the fabled couch."

"You don't have a couch?" Sting asked, puzzled. He had to admit that was what he'd envisioned too.

"I do, and a bean bag and a lot of other things, truth be told it's kind of a circus in there." Bob waved his hand at one of the baristas to get her attention, "Karen honey, can you make my friend here a..." he looked at Sting with a raised eyebrow.

"Uhm, coconut vanilla latte with extra sugar," Sting recited, surprised by Bob's amused snort.

"A coconut vanilla latte with extra sugar, hell, add some whipped cream while you're at it and put it on my tab, "Bob finished his request, "I might as well live vicariously through you, that much sugar would probably kill me."

The woman set to work on the order immediately, making Sting wonder just how often Bob was in here.

"So Sting, son of my dear friend, what is it that brings you to me?" Bob asked, calmly taking another sip from his coffee. "I know you told me Weisslogia recommended you talk to me, but I want to assure you that anything you tell me will remain confidential. I won't be calling him to give him any reports of our sessions."

"It's okay, he already knows everything," Sting explained," he felt you'd be able to help me."

Bob smiled at that, seemingly happy that Weisslogia held so much confidence in his abilities and waited for Sting to speak.

Sting tried to figure out how to phrase everything he wanted to say, fully conscious of Bob's observing eyes. The silence was only interrupted by the appearance of Karen delivering Sting's coffee. He waited for her to return to the counter before speaking.

"Well, you see, my boyfriend was sexually assaulted by his ex while I was back home and he refuses to deal with it, he's not sleeping and -"

"Let me stop you right there," Bob leaned forward, his expression turning serious, "I'm not here for your boyfriend, I'm here for you. Therapy isn't something that can be done through middlemen, and it certainly can't be forced. If he would like to get help I would be more than happy to find some time to see him, or even both of you if you wanted to do some couples therapy, but otherwise, I want to hear about you, or at the very least about how the situation is affecting you."

"I-," Sting was at a loss for words. Could he really do that? Just talk about his own feelings while Rogue continued to struggle...His father had said something similar, but it still felt selfish on his part to be talking to someone about how all of this made him feel, shouldn't he be finding Rogue help instead? He considered the idea of couples therapy briefly but immediately knew Rogue would never agree.

"We have to take care of ourselves before we can take care of others," Bob interrupted his thoughts, "People tend to forget that."

"I just, I don't know what to do," Sting admitted, "I feel like I'm constantly walking on eggshells, afraid I'm going to make things worse."

"That sounds like a very stressful way to live," Bob affirmed, "But you have to understand sexual assault is a very tricky thing, especially in regards to men. Our society imposes so many unrealistic expectations and ideas on what it means to be a man. It makes it that much harder to admit or accept that such a thing can happen to them."

"I just want to help him, but the more I try, the more distant he gets," Sting clenched his fists in frustration, "and I feel so much anger on his behalf, and guilt and I can't help but wonder… would it have happened if I hadn't left? I worry all the time, what if this is the thing that breaks us?"

His eyes turned misty at the thought, "I left everything to be with him, Bob. He's my future. I don't want to lose that, but when I look in his eyes lately… it's like no one's home."

"I sometimes forget how urgent young love is, but there's no need to fret just yet," Bob smiled kindly. "I think you'll find talking to me about what's bothering you and finding different ways to work through your emotions without burdening him with them will already help your situation immensely. Remember, this happened to him, not you. You can't make him responsible for your reactions to it."

It was such a simple idea, and it made sense. Had he been trying to do that? Sting thought about why it was so important for him to talk to Rogue about what had happened.

He had to admit that while he obviously wanted his boyfriend to start moving forward, he also couldn't discount that among other things he was looking for some kind of absolution of guilt from Rogue, and he was ashamed.

"We're all only human, Sting," Bob pointed out, "There's always room for improvement. That said, I think we have a lot to work on. How do Tuesday afternoons sound?"

"That should be fine," Sting assured him, finally taking a sip from his coffee. Just knowing he was going to have a place where he could talk about his feelings was already making him feel less stressed.

"Wonderful," Bob mumbled, pulling out his phone and making some quick notes on it. He grabbed a business card from a hidden pocket in his case and handed it to Sting, his appointment already written on it in neat handwriting.

"What if Tuesdays hadn't worked for me?" Sting chuckled.

"Well, then I would have had to do some reshuffling," Bob grinned, "Thankfully, that wasn't the case. Now tell me," Bob gazed at him intently, "Does your mother still make that heavenly strawberry rhubarb pie?"

Sting laughed out loud at the unexpected question, "She does, treat me well, and I might just put in a good word for you."

Bob gave a high pitched giggle, "Oh, you! I think we're going to get along just fine."

They spent another twenty minutes chatting about his parents and Bob's time in Edolas until his time was up. Sting left after buying some treats for Rogue, enjoying the walk home and feeling more relaxed than he had since reading the journal. He looked forward to his appointment on Tuesday.

0-0

Rogue waited for Sting to come home after his first appointment, not really sure what to expect. He hated feeling like he'd driven Sting to therapy, and he couldn't quite understand why his boyfriend seemed so comfortable with the whole thing when the mere idea of sharing his most intimate thoughts with someone made his stomach clench in discomfort.

He certainly wasn't expecting Sting to return smiling and carting takeout from their favorite restaurant.

"Hey, Babe!" Sting greeted, placing the bags on the counter and offering Rogue a quick kiss before searching for plates and utensils.

"You're in a good mood," Rogue noted, "I take it your appointment went well."

"It did," Sting beamed as he grabbed some sodas from the fridge, "I really like him, he's very easy to talk to."

Rogue grabbed the styrofoam containers from the bags, dividing the contents onto two plates. He'd been about to put them on the dining room table when Sting surprised him once again by opening the dining room's sliding door and calling out, "It's a really nice day, let's eat out here!"

Rogue followed, relieved to see Sting acting more like his usual self. "Wow, this guy must be really good," he joked as he handed one of the plates over and sat on one of the oversized deck chairs.

"Yeah, he gave me a few things to think about before next Tuesday, but I actually had a lot of fun just talking to him. Turns out, he's known my parents for a long time and had some good stories."

Rogue couldn't help but wonder if that had been part of the reason Sting's father had suggested he see him. In all his excitement at having Sting arrive, he'd completely forgotten that his boyfriend had left a lot of things behind to be with him. The familiar guilt tried to exert its influence, but he fought it off, reminding himself that Sting had done so because he'd wanted to. Because they were miserable without the other.

"Do you miss home?"

"It's only been a few weeks, but I do miss Yukino, and my parents," Sting admitted, hurrying to add, "but I don't regret moving here, I'm right where I want to be."

Rogue smiled at Sting's words, "Thank you."

"For what?" Sting asked in between bites.

"I know it hasn't been like we'd planned, but I am so glad you're here."

"Of course, it's where I belong," Sting said matter-of-factly, stretching out his hand until he found Rogue's and then lacing their fingers together.

The words were so casually spoken, but Rogue understood the love and trust they implied nonetheless, and silently made a promise to himself that he’d do his damndest to be worthy of that. 

 “It is.”