#and i'd fuck his brains out until he can't think about what's stressing him out anymore

[alwaysmicado]

My poor baby was really going through it

He breaks my heart every time.

I just want to wrap my arms around him and never let him go. Hug him until our heartbeats synchronize and his muscles relax. Tell him he did and is enough.

Tell him he deserves to be happy.

[sagesbard]

What song the crew would play while ✨shaboinking✨

CW: NSFW MDNI I do NOT condone any of Jimmy's actions this is an AU where the crash never happens and pony Express is just a regular shipping company.

Curly

Dark red by Steve Lacy

Something about the beat just gets him going yk?

It's not to the point where every time he hears it he pops a boner but it definitely does something to him.

He doesn't normally have music playing in the background when y'all shaboink but sometimes he does it it's already playing.

There have been times where instead of telling you he's horny he just plays that song and you already know what's coming. (Him, he's cumming)

As you go up and down on him his moans echo in the room, bouncing off the walls as the song plays in the background. He's thrusting up into so you can't think straight but in reality he's doing to to the beat like Jimmy does.... The second he slips into you his brain goes on autopilot, the only thing mattering to him at the moment is you.

Seeing red by Dustin Lynch also kinda gets him going but not in the way Dark red does. (I'm just now realizing they both have red on the name what a cawinkydink.

When he listens to it it just makes him think about the two of you.

Daisuke

Redbone by childish Gambino 100%

He likes the slow beat of it but the part near the end turns him on like no tomorrow for some reason.

Probably because by the time that part comes on both of you are messes by that point, your moans paired with that song makes him go absolutely FERAL.

Similar with me and your mama by the same artist except he's a bit rougher with this one.

He actually plays music pretty often when y'all shaboink.

He's used to using music to cover up sounds.

When the base comes in it's almost like clockwork when he bites your neck or something along those lines.

Anya

Moonlight by Kali Uchis

Kinda like Daisuke she likes the slow aspect of it.

It's very relaxed and makes her feel calm in a way.

There have been times where she just needs to unwind so she puts on that song and you automatically know that she's either horny or stressed, both end with you eating her out.

Your fingers slowly going in and out of her as the music continues.

Jimmy

A little bit harder now by she wants revenge

He doesn't catch himself but when he's playing that song he ends up fucking you to the best of it.

His hips grinding against yours as you whine and moan until you realize it's the same speed as the fucking song. Nothing wrong with that though, you didn't mind as long as you got fucked dumb. Which you were every time.

Animal attraction is also on there. But he just plays that to kinda tell you he's in that type of mood ykwim?

The way his heavy breathing matches the beats and knocks of the songs is making your head spin. Each thrust burying himself deeper into you until you can't think straight.

A/N: OMG hiiiiii I haven't posted any head canons in a while so I thought I'd treat y'all to something while I work on my next one shot. Since exam season is over and I'll be spending the holidays with my family the posting schedule will probably be a little iffy. Anyways I love y'all and happy holidays 💗💗

[npdzane]

I think the fandom of Ninjago should talk about Zane's fear of losing his humanity and his fear of any negative emotion in general. And how they contradict each other.

(warning, yap sesh ahead) TLDR: can nindroids get therapy? If so we need 5 therapists for Zane immediately

It's already established that Zane has a fear of being seen as just a machine, nothing but a freezer with fake coded emotions. But I haven't seen anyone talk in depth how he seems to turn off his emotions whenever he's faced with grief or stress, and how he only learnt to not do that far into his life.

He probably picked up that habit from when Dr. Julien turned off his memory switch before "dying" back in season 1. And he realized that if he went so long not feeling bad about the "death" of his creator by simply not remembering it or not having the actual emotion of grief, he wouldn't feel bad either when anything similar happened if he just turned off his emotions like Dr. Julien did to him.

The fact this lasted as long as it did meant nobody picked up on it* and tried to tell him he was wrong. Which only validated that idea because if there was a problem with it, someone would've told him..right?

But how can you say you don't want to lose your sense of humanity as a robot while simultaneously doing something humans can't whenever you're faced with stress? I'd say he'd overthink it, and feel guilty about not being honest with himself. He knows hes being irrational, but hes still terrified of the thought of no one seeing him as a person.

But at the same time, he's never been taught how to face stress by himself. Only for other people. It's not like he just doesn't know that ignoring your feelings is a way to avoid the problem and a bad coping mechanism, he obviously knows that. He probably just doesn't know any other solutions because his situation is so niche.

Because how could anyone not want what he has? In his position, he probably feels as if everyone would kill to be a nindroid. Since nobody tells him otherwise. We even see clips where the others use Zane's robot body as a joke or in one case, use him as a fucking cleaning robot. Can you imagine how dehumanizing it must feel for someone to be forced against their will like a puppet into doing a weeks worth of chores?

Zane probably feels as if his fears are irrational. Like he shouldn't have them because being a nindroid seems to be the only thing that others care about when they see him. He's a logical person for sure, but everyone has irrational thoughts and unless you face the reason you have those thoughts they aren't going to go away and they'll cloud your judgement. Zane, for sure, is not doing that. Because we can see he just simply forces himself to stop having emotions when they happen instead of facing them, which only fixes it temporarily.

So hes afraid of being seen as just a freezer with fake emotions (i have more to say about the "fake emotions" part), and because he doesn't face his feelings about why hes afraid of that he lets himself believe that is how people see him. Which causes him to think that fear is stupid and that he shouldn't have it, which makes him turn off his emotions for a while, and the cycle continues.

He also might believe his emotions arent needed. Like maybe at some point he convinces himself that if everyone else only sees him as a calculator with ice powers, maybe that's what he actually is. So on top of everything, he feels like since hes only a computer, all his emotions are fake. Therefore unnecessary.

Not to mention he most likely feels as if he's weak for letting Vex manipulate him. And emotions = weak, weak = manipulated again, manipulated again = letting everyone down. But thats just a little thought i had to let out.

If i could write I'd probably make a fic about him being confronted by this fear, but until then it'll stay in my brain.

Poor boy. Just look at him. He doesn't deserve this bro AUUGIGUGJGJGGHHGHHHH IM AUTISTIC 🥹

Edit: *i rewatched crystalized today and realized the other ninja ARE aware of Zanes habit. They just dont gaf 😭WHICH MAKES IT WORSE!!!

[auspicioustidings]

You know how people call out to someone they trust when in the middle of a night terror/near death experience? Yeah, i dont see doll reader calling out to anyone in the 141, might not even remember the person they trust anymore just some random generic name like Emma or Nick or some shit so there isn't even enough to go on to try to track them down even if the 141 would let them

Not that they would, of course, at this point since readers their little doll now no one else's. It's just something that kinda needles at them, that when it came down to it doll didn't call out to one of their l big military guys to help but some fucker they can't even remember anymore

...not to be Zack Snyder but to really twist the knife I'd love that name to be significant. I want to say Gary, the man they couldn't save, specifically the man they couldn't save from the very same company that sent you.

While we are inserting old game characters into the reboot, let's shift it round a little. Gary was killed by the Shadows but he was taken first. They're not naïve, they know he would have been tortured to death and when they found his burned out body that was evident.

And it must be a coincidence that she knew someone called Gary, but they can't help but wonder just how long she had been with Philip Graves. It becomes an obsession, the idea of just how he broke her down to a doll. They hadn't really thought about it before because realistically they know they won't like the answer.

She's skittish around open water. She showers, but Gaz set up a romantic bath for his doll once and he saw the way panic seized her limbs before her brain just shut off, nothing left there but a doll. He knows what that means. He knows. He doesn't want to think about it.

Soap wants to play doctor and nurse with his toy. He waits until she is gone to throw up at how she reacted to him in a white coat, how she shook so violently at the sight of a needle. He took the jacket off, fucked her gentle, but he is not going to get the sight out of his mind.

For Price it's how she reacts to food. She hoards. She thinks he doesn't notice but he does, the only reason he doesn't "catch" her is because he is scared of how she will react. His little wife is conditioned to accept punishment, a raised voice and she is on her knees in a stress position, a burnt dinner and she puts herself in the little pantry, stays curled in the dark and cold until he tells her to come out.

Ghost knew from day one. He sees everything. If Roba had wanted him unmarked, he reckons it would have been far worse. Torturing someone while leaving them unmarred by it physically takes cruel creativity. Yeah he's a right bastard for accepting her as his slut, holding her down and unleashing all the violence inside of him, but he's helping the only way he knows how. She is never left unsure with him, she knows what he will give her and he never fucks with her head.

But even when they push the implications of how she acts away, when they try and work around it and not trigger memories in her, it still doesn't make her come to them for comfort. It is still Gary's name she calls to in fitful sleep.

[spicythistlesatdawn]

REFERENCE THIS

CW: Adult themes. (Planning on some hot and heavy in this one) Non-Traditional A/B/O dynamics. Military inaccuracies. Medical inaccuracies. 18+ MDNI. OC x Canon Characters.

I love how, as a collective, we agree: "Ohhhh yes. Omegaverse141 is literally where it's at." I also absolutely love how as a collective essentially we've kinda agreed that yea. Alpha!GHOST and Omega!SOAP are like peak. But even better is Omega!Ghost.

Poly!Alpha Soap, Gaz, Price x Poly!Omega Ghost and Omega!reader (reader will be described as more muscular and tall)

this is gonna just be a drabble rn until my brain stops bein fried

Simon who hasn't had his heat in fuckin YEARS and just kinda didn't see a problem with it. He took his leave regardless to keep the alphas from suspecting anything, Masking came in handy for that tbh. It was too embarrassing to admit to the alphas of his pack that his father had essentially scared the omega into a sort of dormancy

Simon who tried not to be wooed by three eager alphas. Johnny's boyish fuckin charm "LT yer lookin' mighty this mornin, ach can ye help me reach the coffee tin?" Kyle's sweet little gifts that suited Simon's needs "I noticed you were out of tea, thought I'd pick yuh some up. Oh those knives are yours. Yes I got you a new mask, your old one had holes in it" and Price, he played dirty, leaving scented items in spots he knew Simon would find them and whisk them away before anyone noticed. All so terribly sweet and pushy and Fuckin hell he wanted to bite each of them, gorge himself on them and let no one else have them.

One night he caves. He caves hard because he craves love, he craves affection and the soft things his pack offers. What makes it perfect is they all decide to take leave for Price's rut. Simon's skin is buzzing for it, really it is. His pack says nothing about the fact Ghost didn't go into heat.

Hes eager, his body feels alive more than it has in ages. More often than not his alphas have him ruining his underwear with his slick.

The lack of a true heat makes it's way to the surface though. They're noticing. They're worried, yea sure stress can change up cycles but "Si when was last real heat you had?"

He's playing it off, of course. "Oi, at least I don't need birth control, shit fucks up a system worse than anythin'" "Can't remember really," "why it's not like we want a pup round 'ere anyway,"

His loving alphas though, they want him to be healthy, a delayed heat is not healthy. All that stress is bad for the heart and body and mind. So they look for solutions. Laswell mentions that maybe some time off and around civvy omegas would do Ghost some good.

A months leave. They're at Soap's apartment in Edinburgh, far enough from his family they won't be bombarded, close enough the siblings and niblings and mam can visit! It's a strange sense of normalcy that Simon hasn't allowed himself in a long time.

The pub is nice, the pub has a lot of omegas. Dainty things, overly sweet things. They're so pretty, and Ghost admires them for that. He finds comfort in watching them.

But then he scents something. Something not entirely sweet but entirely delicious. His mouth is watering, fangs actually aching. Then he spots YOU

You who looks so alive and vibrant and strong. Simon hadn't thought about pups until you and suddenly he's thinking about what you'd look like round because of the alphas. He thinks what going through a pregnancy would look like. What would being a milk nurse for your young be like?

You look so strong too, a hard worker. Like him, like his alphas. Hes nudging Johnny, pointing you out to him. Poor man is confused. "Ach Si, wuts got ye so active?" Sure Johnny sees the appeal, but he's not entirely sure what his omega is asking.

Simon doesn't even know what he's asking. The omegas he had come across before had never piqued his interest this fucking hard. He had more often than not bared his teeth at any omegas who came to up to his alphas.

Now he was here in this pub trying to urge Johnny to talk to you. Because Simon was not gentle enough, not sweet enough. Johnny however was being a idgit.

So he prodded Kyle. "The bird at the bar, wearin the tank," "Wut bout her Si?" He had never seen Simon look so shy, but oh, he loved it, though. "Pretty lovie," was all Kyle said and slipped from the booth.

You watched the lean alpha with smooth dark skin sidle up to you. Saw the claiming mark and the scent of a strong omega. You can't help how the omega part of that scent catches you, where is their Omega? How dare this beautiful man with full kissable lips sidle up to you like he doesn't have someone already.

The scowl is mean enough, coupled with sour displeasure Gaz nopes the fuck out. His Si is a burly omega and he knows those muscles aren't just for show. You work, and you work hard and even if he is an alpha, an SAS member, you could and would probably lay him out.

Aaaaaaa, the disappointment Simon feels, though, because now his instincts are latching bad. You would make such a beautiful member of the pack. LOOK AT YOU. Muscles that flex as you assess the alphas in the pub.

Oh! Oh, you're looking at him now. And he's staring, and he knows you see Kyle, who you sent scurrying back. He loves the look of realization. Appreciates the fact he wore his balaclava because you can't see the blush creeping up his neck.

You're assessing each other then. He's nudging John gently. John, who knew what was going on and didn't know whether to feel pride, concern, or maybe even jealousy. John, who dipped his head towards Simon's neck and rumbled softly, showed his possessiveness and made you and Simon pause.

You turn back to the bar, order something the men might like, whiskey or bourbon.

That makes John assess you again as you approach with the drinks. Introduce yourself. Eyes focused solely on Ghost. You're trying to catch his scent, realizing pretty quickly he can mask

Simon has to mask because Dear Jeebus your scent up close has him ruining his boxers.

You assess the others, and they're not truly paying you any mind. You don't want them to. It was becoming increasingly obvious that it was their Omega showing interest. It was their Omega that seemed inclined to woo you.

You find out their military, it tracks. The precision they move with, the way they all watch the pub. Watch you now.

They find out that you moved from America to Scotland and became a forge master. You make all kinds of things. Blades (Price makes a note of this because he wants to give his omega something nice). Knick knacks. Tools. Edinburgh is perfect because of all the clients you get in, farmers, husbands, wives, families, and workers. You also travel for conventions.

Ghost discovers you came to the pub in search of an alpha or even a beta to bully into "seeing you through your heat" he doesn't offer himself or his alphas. Even if it burns up thinking of someone else doing it. He doesn't want to offer something his alphas don't want. Price is pressing into his side though, looking at his omega and deciding they would talk very soon.

It's Johnny who gives you their numbers as they mention it's time to go. You steal their booth and watch them leave. Their scents surround you except for Ghost's. Which makes you frown because now you're wondering what could have happened that he'd need more than one self defense.

You decide to make a group chat and send a gentle hello, no longer thinking about finding another to bully into taking care of your heat.

That night, Ghost is attended by all three alphas cooing and teasing him. Telling him he's so wet and needy. "Good omega, was she a pretty bird? Did you like how she looked at yuh?" Gaz had no shame in teasing Ghost about you. Price was rather pleased there was something changing in Ghost's scent already.

Maybe Price would talk to all of his boys about taking care of you and Ghost for both of your heats. What better way to get Ghost's hormones on track than expose him to another omega in heat? Oops, he said that out loud, and now Ghost is being a loud, precious slut for them.

You and Simon (he messaged you to call him that) have been messaging quite a bit. The alphas are pleased. Their Omega is happy. Something about you has all of the men vibrating with something.

Simon has asked all of you go on a date. He wants to make his intentions known, he had talked at length with his alphas. Why he wanted to court you, let his alphas court you.

It's sweet, they understand, and this is the most forthcoming they've ever seen Simon. They love it. He loves his alphas, love the way they care for him, but he admitted something about you just... clicked. You felt like you fit in. You weren't military. You were a civvy, but you exuded strength you had talked so easily with everyone at the pub that night. It did call to all of them, not to mention you respected that they were already pack, when you spoke to them that night, you gave your respect to Price and Ghost.

Price is working with Ghost to plan a date night. He feels oddly excited. Something about his feral omega meeting another omega that has his boxers slicked is thrilling.

"Get you a pretty lil lovie. Yuh think she'll bend yuh over?" Price had never been so thoroughly mauled by Ghost during sex. Johnny and Kyle were thrilled by it.

Now to woo you

[voxboxturnedghost]

Heyyyy, I saw that lucifer was on your list of characters to write for (Yippee!) and thought I’d drop a request in, would you mind doing a request for a transmasc reader pegging luci? I’m sure he’s an absolute power bottom, thank youuuuu :3

it's like ur in my brain

- Lucifer never expected things to turn out this way. I mean, he had his suspicions with Lilith, but he didn't think he was THIS into it. He almost always topped with Lilith, Eve too, and even though he occasionally had the little thought about reversing the roles, it never intrigued him enough to look into it.

- Til you brought it up.

- Good GOD (pun intended) it was a great decision to listen to you.

- Bro is the loudest, whiniest power bottom ever, encouraging and praising you while he's panting like a bitch.

- Has his legs wrapped around your waist because he likes seeing your face when he gets fucked, and likes it when you can see his.

- Hair pulling, back scratching, biting, the whole deal.

- He fucking LOVES when you peg him, he thinks you're so handsome and just can't get enough of the satisfied smirk on your face when you hit the soft spot in him that has his back arching and his brain turning to mush.

- It would all be started because he accidentally said the wrong phrase or word, accidentally making some sort of sexual innuendo instead of what he thought he was saying, but god he does not regret it one bit when he sees the way you smirk and raise an eyebrow at him.

- He's so kissy and affectionate too, always wants your lips on his while you're fucking wrecking that ass. It's messy and loving and playful.

- He will occasionally fight for dominance, but believe me when I say that it is a fight he does not want to win. You two just end up rolling around on the bed in all sorts of positions, almost playfighting, pinning each other down, pulling each other's hair, but it's all done out of love (and lust), and always ends with you two making out like you're trying to swallow each other hole.

- He loves when you hold his face while you two kiss during sex, it's so close, so loving, and makes him melt under you.

- Fun Fact about Lucifer too

that man KNOWS how to use his tongue. Just thought I'd put this out there.

- He can just be going about his day, with his little rubber ducks and whatnot, and he notices you eyeing him up, before glancing under the bed where the box your strap is kept in is placed. He knows, and suddenly, ughhh what a long day, he's done with work for the day and he's so ready for something nice for some stress relief. If only somebody could help him destress. Maybe a bath? Some snacks? A movie? Getting fucked in the ass until you're both a sweaty mess on his bed? Yeah, that sounds like the best option.

I hope this is good! You got great taste in men! Good day to ya, anon!

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Passion

Could you write Roman angst / hurt/comfort that’s a human/college au? Roman wants to major in something related to the arts (theater, art, creative writing, etc). However he’s constantly reminded by his family that he should pick a major that will lead to a career that pays well. So he just settles for a major that will lead to a well paying job, but is clearly stressed out and sad by how his college life is going. So the other Sides step in a comfort him; they are determined to help him follow his dreams and not go down a life path that he’s not happy with. – monkeythefander

Read on Ao3

Warnings: insecure!roman, poor bb

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4045

Roman's parents are very encouraging. They want him to succeed in life, they want what's best for him. And what they think is best for him is for him to have a major that sets him up for jobs that will provide him with a steady paycheck, stability, and plenty of options for growth. Never mind what he wants.

Roman glances down at his phone as it buzzes again. His hands clench and unclench as he reaches for it. He looks at the text.

Mom: Doug said he's happy to help you when you do figure out what you want. Just a reminder of all the people that care about you <3

He flips the phone over and looks at the mountain of textbooks stacked at the edge of his desk, just barely on the edge with all the folders of homework and printed articles he has to somehow get through by the end of the week. He looks down at his hand, the callus on his finger flattened from how hard he's been pressing his pen to paper just to try and struggle through one more project, one more class. He swallows, mouth dry, and reaches for the water bottle only for it to be way too light—how long ago did he finish it?

With a grunt, he gets up and goes to the bathroom, jamming it under the water bottle filler and waiting until the light turns green. He slumps back down at the library desk and buries his head in his hands. He can't afford to be doing this right now, he knows it, he has to get back to work. He's got three deadlines looming over his head and the persistent growl of his stomach isn't doing him any favors.

The 'starving artist' cliche is really overblown, Roman. There's no glamor in it. I know it sounds like it's romantic and it'll all pay off in the end, but the truth is that's not how the world works. I'm not trying to crush your dreams, honey, I just want you to be prepared.

He'd stayed up all night making his art about that, and he's never going to show that particular piece to anyone because it will get back to his parents somehow and they'll want to know what inspired this, this seems really dark, Roman, are you alright? Is there anything we can do?

He wishes he'd never shown them some of his art to begin with. God, he's never going to get his mother's face out of his head when she'd looked at him over breakfast like he was a complete stranger and said I wish I'd known how to love you better when you were younger.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with that at 9 in the morning?

He shakes himself. He can't be doing this right now. He has work to do. He grits his teeth and picks the pen up again and starts struggling through the pages and pages of homework. The characters on the screen fuzz and blur and he has to keep blinking, keep squinting, keep trying to parse them out through the fog in his brain that just doesn't want to. He's rarely felt more useless in his life than when he'd seen the word count for a paper and failed to do it until he was shaking with frustration at how hard it was to make the words go.

Any writer will tell you that writing isn't as simple as sitting in front of a keyboard and just letting the words fall out of you. It's called a discipline for a reason and it takes discipline to do. It takes practice, just like anything else, it takes work and it takes more than just someone glancing over it and thinking oh, nice, you wrote a story. It's never wow, the amount of time you must've taken to practice your craft to do something like this is admirable. It's never I really like how you've used this particular technique or this particular style to do what you wanted. It's only ever yeah, you've improved and they don't even have the vocabulary to specify how or what it is they think is better. Not when it comes to writing, and in Roman's case, certainly not when it comes to his writing.

Sure, some of his professors think he's good. But those ones were from his other classes that he actually wanted to work for. Now? Now he's lucky if he gets one word of decent praise in between all the other suggestions and criticisms for how his style isn't appropriate or he's missing key parts that mean the rest don't count for anything and—

And he blinks and realizes the reason that he's struggling to read so much is the tears now rolling down his cheeks.

He doesn't have time for this. He has studying to do. He has projects to finish. He has work that has to be done to be worthwhile and make sure that he's doing it right and he's impressing his class and he's also managing his life in a way that gets him a high-paying job right after graduation and he's making his family proud and—and—

And he's not forgetting that he has people who care about him.

He blinks again. He stares unseeing at the screen as a tear hits his computer. He thinks, if he were in another major, he might be able to do something with the fact that the first thought he has was I can't cry on my computer, I have too much work to do.

But this work doesn't care about his emotions or his feelings, so he sniffles, clutches his water bottle like it's a cuddle toy for one, two, three seconds, then he gets back to work.

***

"Alright," Virgil announces, plopping down on the edge of the sofa almost in Roman's lap, "what's wrong?"

"I'm not a ventriloquist, get off my lap!"

"I'm not on your lap, Princey, I'm next to it." He leans down and flicks the side of Roman's head. "Talk to us."

"'Us?'" Only then does he look up and see that yep, the rest of their friend group has gathered around, Logan sitting slowly on the other side of the sofa as Patton and Janus lean against the wall. "Oh. When did you guys get here?"

"About twenty seconds ago." Logan crosses one leg over the other. "But Virgil's right."

"Savor that."

"Dick." Virgil swats him. "Don't ignore us. You've been off for weeks, Princey, what's going on?"

Roman hunches his shoulders. He really doesn't have time for this. "I'm fine, guys. Just let me get back to work."

"Lie."

"Janus, I don't have time for you right now."

"Also a lie, but maybe a little less of one." Janus doesn't even have the decency to flinch when Roman glares at him—which part of him really wants to find offensive, he has a great death glare— "you're upset, sweetie, you have to let us help."

"Well, I don't have to do anything except pay taxes and die."

"Okay, he's still making bad Vine references, he can't be that far gone."

"Guys," he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose, "really, I'm glad you're all here and concerned about me, but I really need to finish this, can we do this later?"

"When is later?"

"I don't know, like, after dinner?"

"Done," Logan says in that way where he knows Roman's gotten himself into a trap—shit, see, this is why Roman switching majors really sucks too, because Logan kicks his ass verbally enough outside of class, he doesn't need to give him an excuse to kick it inside too. "We'll set aside some time after dinner to discuss. Thank you for suggesting it, Roman."

Roman redirects his death glare to Logan's back as he walks out of the room, trying not to let his cheeks flush too obviously when the others are trying—or not trying at all, in Janus's case—to hide their smirks or snorts. Instead, he buries himself back in his work and makes the best effort he can to getting through the nonsense so he can be present for whatever interrogation he's about to receive afterwards.

He doesn't make that much progress, but that's not new. He saves what he's done, sends emails to the groups for what he can't, and resigns himself to being quiet during dinner so he can save his energy. Thankfully, none of his friends try to make him talk during dinner itself, they'll all distracted talking about some show or some game—honestly, he's pretty sure there's both games and shows in the franchise so he'd be correct either way—and not on the very sad and upset Roman poking halfheartedly at dining hall pasta and salad.

He has about three minutes after they get back to the dorm before they're all piling into his room and demanding he talk to them.

"I don't know what you guys want me to say."

"You can start with why you've looked like a kicked puppy for the last few weeks."

"I have not!"

"You have, kiddo," Patton adds, wincing a little at the description but not denying or disagreeing, "it's not your fault, but it's…you look like someone's told you Disney's never making another movie ever again."

"Okay, maybe not that bad," Virgil amends when Roman stares at them blankly, "but you've had your little princely pout on pretty much constantly."

"I do not—"

"Yeah, you do."

"Yes, you do."

"You do."

"You kinda do, kiddo."

"Wow, fuck you guys, you all suck." Roman rubs his temples. "I really don't know what you guys want from me."

"You've been upset." Logan reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. "We just want to know why."

"And what we can do to help," Virgil adds.

"I don't—I'm just stressed from work, okay? That's all. I'm trying to wrap my head around new stuff and it's taking me some time. You don't have to worry about it."

"Well, that ship has very much already sailed," Janus says, feigning a put-upon indifference that Roman sees right through because he won't stop fiddling with his gloves, "we're here, we're worried, so you may as well tell us."

"That's not how it works."

"That's very much how it works."

"Enough, you two." Logan's hand is still on his arm. Logan's hand better not stay on his arm for much longer because all the emotions he hasn't been able to get out of him are racing toward that one point of warmth like it's the only port in a storm and if he doesn't stop touching him now, there's going to be no more work that gets done this evening and he has a deadline to meet. "Roman, obviously we won't pressure you into sharing something you don't want to, but…we are worried."

"Why?"

"Because you seem so much less like you." Thank God that hand leaves. "You've been quiet and distant and we—well, I won't speak for everyone else, but I miss you."

A lump rises in his throat. He never thought he'd hear Logan say he missed him. "You do?"

"Yes, I do. I miss going on walks with you in the morning and talking about our readings, I miss studying in the library with you."

"I still study in the library."

"Yeah, but that's all you do right now, Princey." Virgil fiddles with his hoodie strings. "You don't come game with me or Janus, you don't watch movies or shows with us as much anymore, hell, Patton can't even get you to come to breakfast in the morning if it's not an hour before your class."

He sneaks a guilty look at all of them to see similar expressions on their faces. His chest twists. He's…he's been a bad friend, hasn't he?

"Don't," Patton says softly when he opens his mouth, "you don't have to apologize to us, we're not mad at you. We're just worried, like Janus and Logan said. We're your friends, Roman, we just want you to know we're here for you."

Right.

Right.

Roman swallows. He bows his head and mumbles something about being too overwhelmed with work and not knowing how to deal with it. Logan pats his shoulder and Patton promises to try waking up a little earlier to go and get breakfast with him and everything. Janus and Virgil manage to convince him to take the rest of the night off to watch the new episode of the show they're binging. He waits until the rest of them have vanished back to their rooms for the night to look longingly at his notebook.

He scribbles down a few lines and shoves it under his bed, cracking his laptop open again.

***

He should've known that eventually, they'd bring out the big guns. Or rather, big gun.

"Ro-bro!" Roman barely has time to move his computer out of the way before he has an armful—and lapful—of his brother, squirming to get closer. "It's been too long!"

"Ack—Re! Re, you're squishing me!"

"So? You're used to it." He wiggles his way even closer with a happy sounding hum. "Hey, there's my Roro. You've been dodging my calls, haven't you?"

"What? No, I didn't—when did you call?"

"I'm just fucking with you."

"Can you—ack—not fuck with my ability to breathe?"

Remus rolls his eyes fondly but does step back, letting Roman actually get himself together and stand up for a proper hug. Then he's right back to getting squished by a boa constrictor and…maybe he's grinning a bit into Remus's shoulder because yeah, he missed his brother too.

"I haven't seen you since you started this new bullshit," Remus mumbles in his ear, "why's it look like it aged you four years?"

"Asshole."

"You know I'm right, though." Remus pulls back, holding him by his shoulders and poking his cheek. "You look ragged, Roro. You been getting enough sleep?"

"You're worse than our parents."

"Fuck yeah, I'm worse. I can actually make you do shit still."

He flinches. It's small, but Remus notices everything, especially when it's about him, so of course Remus notices and he gets two seconds before Remus is stepping closer and bringing him into another hug—gentler this time, but still firm enough to let him know he's not running away from this conversation.

Shit.

"Now, what was that all about?"

"Nothing, Re, it's fine—"

"Bullshit." He squeezes him closer. "You're upset about something, Roro, so tell me what it is."

"I'm just stressed, okay? Switching majors is hard and I'm trying to play catch up. That's all it is."

Remus narrows his eyes. "So if I ask Janny if that's true, he'll agree with me?"

"Ask me what?"

Oh, great. He glances over his shoulder to see that everyone's apparently coming to say hi—that's not fair, they're Remus's friends too, but he'd be a fool to not put together why they're all here right now and it has everything to do with the concerned furrow between Remus's brows that isn't going away anytime soon.

"Did you guys seriously call him because you're still worried about me?"

"Yep."

"That's correct."

"We're still worried, kiddo, and we figured Remus might have an easier time getting you to tell us what's wrong."

Remus flicks his forehead and grins when Roman glares at him—what is with everyone suddenly being immune to his death glares? Has switching majors caused his death glare to weaken too?—and ruffles his hair. "C'mon, Roro, you can tell us. We'll only make fun of you if it's funny."

"No, we won't."

"Fine, only if you deserve it."

"We won't do that either."

Remus pouts. "You're no fun, Logan."

"I'm concerned about my friend," Logan says smoothly, "and I'm not in the habit of punishing the behavior I want to see."

"Ooh, kinky."

"Both of you shut the fuck up," Virgil grumbles, "we're here to support Roman, not whatever the hell that is."

"Great idea, Dark and Stormy! Roman, tell us what's wrong!"

"Oh, for crying out loud—I'm just stressed!"

"That much is clear."

"Shut up, Remus." As soon as he says it, he bites his tongue, reaching out for his brother before he can pull away—Remus wasn't, not even a little, in fact he's pretty sure he was stepping closer— "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"I know, Roro." Remus gives him another squeeze around the middle, the way he knows makes Roman relax because he fights dirty and Roman hasn't cried in days. "What's going on? I haven't seen you like this in ages."

Roman hangs his head. "Why is it so hard to believe that I'm just stressed? What part of my story doesn't make sense?"

"The part where you're admitting that it's a story and you haven't told us to fuck off about it yet."

Roman groans into his hands. "Why do you have to know me so well?"

"I'm your brother, that's my job. And they're your friends, so caring about you is their job."

"Which you haven't been letting us do, so…"

Roman doesn't say anything for a long moment. The lump in his throat keeps getting bigger and bigger. He clutches Remus's arms and Remus just lets him. He can hear Patton and Janus shuffling closer, trying to gauge if this is a sort of problem that a group hug can fix. He can hear Virgil and Logan mumbling something. He can feel Remus tightening his grip on him. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to crying—

"I'm just stressed," he croaks, "I'm…that's it, okay?"

There's a pause. Then Remus sighs. "Okay, Roro. I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yeah." He ruffles his head. "While I'm here, though, you wanna make good on that promise to show me your studio?"

His studio. The one he's technically not supposed to have anymore because that's for his old major and students in his new major don't get studio space. But academic bureaucracy moves slow and he hasn't had the heart to clear it out yet.

"Ooh, wait, can we come too?"

"I'd like to see it."

"Roman, is that okay?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, turning to grab his coat, "let's…let's go."

Remus just slings an arm over his shoulders for the entire walk across campus. Roman stares at the ground as he trudges over to the once-familiar building, pushing open the door and heading up the stairs. God, just the smell is enough to bring the tears back to the corners of his eyes, that half-dried paint and the weird heat from the kiln on the first floor, the paint thinner, the stuff from the woodworking shop and the forge…

He reaches into his pocket where the keys never left and opens the door to his studio. He has to hold himself against the door for a moment at the rush of being in the space again.

It's his. It's his, it's only ever been his. Not really, the room itself has probably housed over a hundred different students' works over the years, but right now? Right now this room is his and his alone. His manuscript sits in a messy pile on the corner of a desk filled with open sketchbooks and colors strewn about. The easel in the corner still has his composition work. The walls are still covered in his projects and concept ideas that have started to fade a little with the sun. The room smells of charcoal and paint and freshly-dried ink—not so fresh anymore—and there, in the corner, is his setup for sealing wax and the letters he'd been making before…before…

Before.

"Holy fucking shit, Roro," Remus breathes out and oh, yeah, everyone's here, "this place is fucking magical."

He steps aside and watches them through his lashes as they spill into the room, treating it like it's some sort of gallery and not Roman's mind frantically spinning its wheels at too many hours of the day. Logan and Janus are already deep in conversation about one of his earlier painting hanging on the wall. Patton is trying and failing to be subtle about poking at some of the clay figures on the windowsill. And Virgil is shamelessly reading the manuscript.

His heart flutters, just for a moment.

"That's it," he mumbles, "this is where the magic happens. Happened."

"No, no, no, you don't to downplay this." Remus turns around like he's a kid in a mad-science candy store. "This place is the shit."

"I'm glad you like it."

And for a split second, he thinks that might be it. That they'll wander around in his soul for a little, see what they want to, and then they'll leave and he'll lock the door behind them. But he forgets that Remus is Remus and knows everything.

"Why're you standing right there?"

"Huh?"

"You're standing right in front of where the door is like you don't want us to close it."

"Oh, I can close the door."

"Yeah, but you're still standing there. So what's behind the door, Ro-bro?"

He shuffles in place and apparently, that's all Remus needs to dart forward and shove him out of the way, yanking the door away from the wall and—

He knows what they're all staring at now. He'd done it in the dark, so he hadn't really been able to see what he was doing, but when the sun came up and he could, he couldn't bring himself to finish it or destroy it. Not when the curve of his own face was staring back at him as the rest of his body turning to dust, scattering in the wind to turn to cold, merciless coins clanking and clattering into a never-ending void.

It's a terrible painting. One his old professors might have been proud of. One his new professors won't ever see.

He didn't really want anyone to see it, but it's too late for that now.

"Oh, Roro," he hears Remus mumble, "you really didn't want to switch majors, did you?"

"It's not worth it," Patton says too, "going after something because it might get you a better-paying job later, not if you're miserable."

"You work so hard on your art, you deserve to be celebrated for it."

"How are you all getting this from one painting?"

"Because it's your painting, sweetie," Janus says, coming close enough to take Roman's shoulder, "and you're a very, very good artist."

"I'll fucking call our parents myself and tell them to fuck off," Remus growls, spinning and snatching Roman back up in a hug, "you don't deserve to be miserable. You deserve to be the person you want to be."

"Princey, I've been here for ten minutes and I feel like I understand you better than I have for years," Virgil says when Roman goes to protest, "you're fucking great at this and you've worked hard at it. Logan's right, if this is what you want? Fucking chase it."

"Oh, sweetheart, come here," Patton whispers when Roman chokes on a sob, "come here, come here, that's it…"

It's group hug time on the floor, apparently, and Roman can't stop crying. Not when these people are standing in the middle of his soul, trying to hold him together, and not when he can't stop hearing the clink, clink, clink of metal hitting metal. He wants to stay here, in the light, in the warmth of it, not go back to cold papers and projects that feel so foreign to him.

"So do it."

"But—"

"No, if you want to do this, fucking do it. We'll talk to your professors, we'll fight the academic subcommittees if we have to. If you want this, Ro? We're in your corner."

He sniffles. "You…you mean it?"

"Of course we fucking mean it. We care about you."

And for the first time in a few months, Roman might actually believe it.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs@el-does-photography@princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl@raven1508

[kissesandarsenic]

Hiii miss Loretta... i was wondering if you could write something about fucking and praising a puppy sub until his brain goes blank? I really really loved ur last responses <33 (i wouldn't quite mind a task either...) -🐾

(For the task, go to a mirror, strip completely naked and stare into your eyes with your tongue out. Stay like that until you begin to drool, then use that to pleasure yourself. Or simply stay in that position, touching until you reach an edge.)

Hm, the decision here is whether I want to ride a puppy sub or fuck them with my strap. I haven't written about the latter, so I think I'll go with that.

Thinking of a cute puppy that's had a long and stressful day and wants to turn his brain off for a while. So he comes to me, all shy and needy, looking at me with the biggest, saddest eyes. Who am I to say no to the poor thing?

I'd lay him down on his back, cooing all the while at how flustered even this makes him. I'm sure he'd try to hide his face but I'm not letting that happen. I wanna see every cute expression that flitters across his face as I fuck him into the mattress.

Of course, I'll be loving and doting. He's adorable and makes the cutest little noises when I angle my hips just right. I'll have pinned his arms above his head so he can't squirm away from me as I tell him what a pretty toy he is. How his noises are utterly precious and that his picture should be framed and hung in a museum.

And when his eyes start to lose focus, those pesky thoughts draining as he's fucked dumb on my cock, I'll press a kiss to his brow and fuck him even harder.

[toomuchracket]

have we discussed being comforted by bday matty the night before a book launch event. Perhaps you can’t sleep because of nerves of your book coming out (I imagine it’s quite vulnerable!) and also all the little press things and the launch party so he gets creative ;)

because the last collection was so well-received, you're so scared that this one won't stack up, so the whole release is stressing you the fuck out, ESPECIALLY the launch party where all your friends and family and peers and industry people will listen to you explain the book and read aloud from it. like you said, it IS vulnerable; these are personal essays, you know? anyway. matty's so excited about the whole thing, and he's been a great help with organising and really just keeping you sane, but you haven't really let on to him how nervy you are. he finds out, like you said, the night before the event, when he stays over at your flat and wakes up at like 2am for some water to find you sitting at the windowsill just looking out onto london - he goes to sit beside you like "what are you doing up, darling? can't sleep", and when you nod he's like "is this about tomorrow? talk to me", and you just open up to him about how scared you are and you have a feeling like it'll be shit and the book will be shit and you don't know what you'll do if that turns out to be the case because this is all you know and want to do and are good at. he hugs you tight through it, and then he's like "you know it's not shit, darling, and i know it's not shit. you're the best writer i know, the best writer alive", and you sniffle like "you're my boyfriend you have to say that"; matty's like "i'd still think that even if i didn't have the privilege of shagging you. speaking of... come back to bed and i'll warm you up, yeah? might help you get some sleep", and you nod and let him carry you to bed and kiss you and slide inside you while he spoons you. and it does calm you down, being so close to him, having him coo reassurances and compliments into your hair until you fall asleep. and the next morning, when you wake up with him still inside you... he does the other method of shutting your brain off, lol, before showering with you and washing your hair and being very sweet. it's a lovely start to what ends up being a lovely day, better than you thought, with him cheering you on the whole time; there are flowers and champagne waiting for you when you get home after the launch, and your day ends the same way it starts, with your ridiculously hot boyfriend taking his time getting you off. lovely <3

[winchestersickness]

Sorry anon I somehow deleted your ask 😔 but here's the rec! I went through my ao3 history and picked these, I hope there's something you haven't read yet and that you will enjoy :))

Gift Horse, Mouth, etc.

Sam gets accidentally stuck with a curse that can only be lifted by acting on his deepest hidden fantasy. Dean thinks it's hilarious, and why won't Sammy just tell him what it is already? It can't be anything that weird. Right?

Please Tell Me Who I Am

A/B/O AU. As a beta, Sam shouldn’t even be attracted to his alpha brother (much less be yearning for Dean to finally take that last step into claiming him officially) but, a few compatibility issues aside, they’re happy with the pseudo-mateship they’ve got going on. At least, until a hunt-gone-wrong ends up with Sam being cursed into an omega. He and Dean race to find a way to reverse the spell before it’s too late…but now Sam’s not entirely sure if he even wants to be cured.

Convalescence

Post-Cage!Sam seen through the eyes of others.

(more under the cut)

In Loco Parentis

“Sam, are you,” Dean pauses, squeezing his eyes shut for a second because his brain just doesn’t want to catch up. “Are you jerking off and thinking about Dad?” (Sam is 15).

take the things you love

The thing is, Sam’s reinforcing every bad behavior Dean’s ever had with this kind of shit. Fucking Sam stupid over the hood of the Impala? Dean’s wet dream—unfortunately also Sam’s—but more importantly the implicit validation of every claim Dean thinks he has on Sam—unfortunately every claim Sam’s lizard brain wants Dean to have. (Sam knows his brother wants to possess him. It's a point of internal conflict.)

There's An Enochian Incantation

Dean finds a spell to create a weapon to banish leviathans. It involves an Enochian incantation. The last thing Sam's already-fragile mind needs is to hear words in the language of angels.

brother only wants

Sam breathes like it takes effort, and then he says, "Wanting you was the very first thing I realized was wrong with me. It was how I knew there was something sick inside." (One of them had to fall first. A story about devotion.)

Hands Away

When you’re horny and alone with one person in one room for a long time and you’re sixteen and all you’ve ever been taught is to love your brother more than anything, it doesn’t seem like that far of a leap to start imagining what his mouth would feel like around your dick.

Squint into the Sunset | Glare into the Gloaming

The 70k-word nonlinear coming of age story that literally no one asked for. "I know you want to give him the world, Dean, but you were never supposed to give him this."

Taking Advantage

Sam is doing everything Dean tells him to. It’s weird, and Dean wants to get to the bottom of it so he pushes Sam. Sam breaks.

I'd Gladly Lose Me To Find You

Sam takes a vow of silence in order to pull Dean out of Hell, but by the time Dean comes back, Sam's lost more of himself than just his voice. Splits off completely from canon after the season 3 finale.

One Going On Eternity And Counting

Some boundaries were never meant to be crossed ...

with hearts that are guilty, not remorseful

“I’ve wanted you since I knew what wanting was.” It’s a fact, as plain as the day. The sky is blue. Their mother was killed by a demon. They hunt monsters. Sam wants Dean. “I’ve loved you for longer, I think.” “God,” Dean’s voice is barely a whisper, raising a hand to grip his own hair by the roots and pulling. He looks absolutely wretched. “I fucked you up, didn’t I?”

When You're Not Here

The third time Sam Winchester comes to school with bruises, Mrs. Davidson decides it's time to intervene - before it's too late.

Gutless

Sticky fingers, that’s what Dean always calls him.

Bullet for my Valentine

Stupid. He is so goddamn fucking stupid. Running his mouth like a fucking idiot, not knowing when to leave well enough alone. Bad enough that he just practically talked dirty to his little brother, which, Christ – he must be more stressed than he thought if his self-control mechanisms have started malfunctioning that badly. But no, no, he came up with a scenario straight out of a bad slasher film, as if that is something normal people talk dirty about, as if that is something Sam would seriously enjoy. As if – As if Dean hadn’t hunted his own brother through the maze of the bunker, eyes black and hammer raised to strike, not even a full year ago. As if Sam hadn’t, just a few weeks back, knelt at his feet, neck bared, waiting for Dean to deal a fatal blow with a fucking scythe.

I haven't been reading spn fics for long so idk if all these are well known already, but I loved all of these (a couple of them are platonic). hope you'll like them!

[evermourning]

𝐛𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 - han jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader (bewitched series pt. 2)

wc: 1.2k

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, comfort, slice of life, based off "bewitched" by laufey

warnings: not proofread, language, pet names (jagi/jagiya, baby), horrifically cliche, no direct pronouns used for reader

a/n: all the love my chan oneshot got is absolutely the sweetest! i'm hoping this one will be on par with it <33

"can you even focus with me here?" you asked, laughing loudly as your best friend stared down the screen, a controller held tightly in his hand. jisung had his arms around you as you sat comfortably between his legs, head on his chest. from your warm and snug position, just by looking up could you see his beautiful side profile. heart-shaped lips in a slight pout, his annoyingly gorgeous face sporting deep hazelnut eyes...god. you hated this feeling.

"of course i can! stay put, okay? i can't win if you're squirming around." he giggles, reaching down slightly to ruffle your hair.

how would he react if he knew?

if only your best friend knew about how you'd lay in bed at the earliest hours...staring off into space when the moon was at its highest point, thinking, wishing, hoping that the boy who'd been your very best friend for fucking years would look at you the way you looked at him.

in your eyes, han jisung was your golden boy, warmth and joy radiating off him whenever he was near you. he was your anchor, the rainbow amidst dark grey clouds.

to him? you were probably his best friend he'd known since you two were gangly little kids eating popsicles on your front porch. there was absolutely no way you were of any romantic interest to him...especially if he'd seen your puberty phase.

"hey...is everything okay? you just went like- dead silent." jisung asked, soft concern flooding his facial features. he looked even cuter- fuck! you wanted to slap yourself, to tell these silly little butterflies in the pit of your stomach to shut the hell up soooo bad. "something bothering you? do i need to beat someone up for you??"

"no, no. i'll be okay. plus, look at you—you couldn't even hurt a fly!" you teased, trying to hide the fact that your face was becoming inexplicably warm.

"that's because they're too small. i always miss them when they're just flying around doing who knows what."

you laughed at his comment, reassuring yourself that even if it wasn't mutual, being with him like this was better than nothing.

"shit, i gotta go- i promised minho i'd practice with him!" jisung mopes. "i'll text you later."

and then he leaned in to whisper to you, lips so close you could've sworn they brushed against your ear:

"keep me in your heart, okay? i know you're really stressed over something you're deciding not to mention to me...remember i'll always be here when you need me the most."

and then he stood up, and walked out the door. leaving you sitting there, absolutely and unmistakeably bewildered.

that was one of the million times where you wanted the words so many desired to hear to simply fall out of your lips, floating on a cloud until they reached him.

and yet, as always, the words melted away on your tongue like a soft early spring snowfall gone too soon.

"i'm going on a date tonight."

as each word resonated in your ears, a tiny piece of you was crushed like fragile china. what if this girl or guy was the one? everything you'd worked so hard for would be thrown away.

"i hope you have a good time. be safe, okay?" you replied quietly, giving him a quick hug. "we can hang out once you get back, and you can tell me if it went shit or if you can tell that this person will be the one."

"well..." jisung says sheepishly. "if you tell me not to, i won't go."

you nodded, not really listening until the words truly reached your brain.

"what?"

"you heard me." jisung said firmly, before promptly walking out into the pouring rain. you yelped, grabbing an umbrella and running after him. as your clothes became increasingly drenched, you grabbed him by his jacket before pulling him in under your umbrella.

"you can't say shit like that," you said, giving him a glare. "you're making me think you're like- in love with me or something."

"that's because i literally am? but you're just so goddamn oblivious you didn't even notice." jisung replied, sighing. your mouth dropped open.

"actually?! you're not just fucking with me, right?"

jisung shook his head. "nope. how have you not noticed that i'm all over you 24/7? the only reason i was going on a date anyways is because i gave up trying. it wasn't like you liked me back or-" when he noticed your expression, all of the pieces fell into place, clicking for him. "oh."

you laughed, dumbfounded.

and then you pulled him in for a genuine first kiss, as the rain pounded against the concrete sidewalk lit by a single dimmed streetlight. time froze as you lost yourself in the moment, sealing your fate.

and just like that, the s in 'bsf' faded away.

...

a numerous amount of texts, all along the lines of: 'babyyyyy, where are u :(' arrived on your phone in quick succession. you laughed to yourself as you received an incoming call from your lovely boyfriend.

"are you on your way home from work, jagiya?" his tired voice mumbled. "and why are you working at this time of day in the first place?"

"money doesn't grow on trees, baby." you snickered. "i'm doing the best i can to make do."

"you poor thing." jisung cooed. "you know i'd lend you absolutely any amount of money if you asked."

"i know, but i'm trying to be independent." you explained. jisung went silent for a second, as if he was planning out his answer.

"i hope you're not suddenly so independent that you're ditching me!" he said, and you could just imagine the pout upon his soft (extremely kissable) lips. "i saw you today, and i already miss you sooooo much. what's going on? you're not even gone."

"i think you're just a tad clingy," you teased. "also, turn around. i brought you lunch."

jisung, standing at the crosswalk, turned around with fucking sparkles in his eyes. he basically squealed as he hugged you tightly, absolutely ecstatic that you were in front of him and not just a voice on a device.

"my beautiful gorgeous booboo bear." he teased as he hugged you, staring at you with the cutest face. he looked like a kid on christmas day.

"if you ever call me that again i'm taking my house key back." you replied.

"hey!"

you smiled as you two sat down on a park bench. thankfully, it was a gorgeously sunny day, with crystal clear skies and a shimmering sun offering its rays to the earth. jisung lazily stretched an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in.

you just wanted to stay in his embrace for all eternity. there was something so alluring about him, this comforting energy. it was like...he was hexing you or something. you giggled at the thought of jisung, standing over a cauldron as he tried to create some villainous brew to keep you by his side.

and yet, the idea didn't seem that far-fetched. he did cast a whimsical spell on your heart, cursing you to fall for him, and fall hard.

maybe he did bewitch you, after all.

and if that was the case, it wasn't so bad.

...

taglist <3: @imastraykidsfan

@evermourning, ©2023. all rights reserved.

[irkimatsu]

Irk what the fuck

You can’t just drop that shit what the fuck

Part two please I need to know he’s gonna be okay

- 💃

(discussion of fictional reversible suicide for blacklist)

He'll be okay! I promise! There were no blessed components to the revolver Husk was using. He'll recover and be back to normal. He's used to this; he's had plenty of evenings end with a bullet through his skull. Just one of the risks of a good gamble, right? It'll just take some time to get back to normal. It'll only be a few days before he starts breathing again and his body heat returns. It may be a couple more weeks before he's fully conscious, and he'll be wearing a bandage for a while after that, at least until his eye grows back. Fuck it's hard to see like this. He usually tries to avoid damaging his eye, but it's hard to aim carefully when you're fucking drunk. At least he has you to help him while he recovers; not just with performing tasks, but by providing company so he's not left alone in a giant bed until his headache goes down enough for him to walk.

...he'll be okay physically, anyway. The head wound will heal and he'll go about his afterlife like nothing happened. Emotionally, though... he already had to be in a bad spot to play Russian Roulette in the first place. Husk sitting in front of a massive pile of debt paperwork, needing to make calls to beg for more time, signing away employees he's grown quite attached to in order to make up for debts he can't afford in cash... it's dreadful work, which is why he had to break it up with rounds of Roulette. He wins, he gets enough adrenaline to get him to read and sign a few more agreements and make that particularly dreaded phone call. He loses, well, that's a few weeks he gets to spend on bedrest until the wound heals. Can't expect him to make financial decisions with a brain injury, right?

He's lost plenty of times before, and has always been found by jaded staff after a day or so had passed and he'd missed an important event. Cleaning up after his mess isn't a big deal to them.

He didn't even consider that you'd be the one to find him. Fuck, he feels awful... he just got so used to grabbing that gun when stressed out, he wasn't thinking... he's so sorry you had to see that, so, so fucking sorry...

(God, I'd love to turn this into a whole fic someday... the angst...)

[thatlittledandere]

PLEASE talk about xoxo droplets omg. im no thoughts head empty rn but tbh just i wanna hear every opinion you have about it,, i love when people share my Extremely Unknown Special Interest

Every time I think about how to explain the main characters to someone unfamiliar with them I can get through Everett and Shiloh just fine, normal short synopses, but THEN. NATE LAWSON. TRAPS ME FOR HOURS. Nate isn't even my favorite but I'm obsessed with him oh my god. This is gonna have spoilers for his route btw hold on

Like. I met him, and thought, in a true JB fashion, hot damn. He, he's easily the most attractive of the bunch to me shrsvhddh (Everett has so many qualities I love on paper but in practice. It's Nate he's the most handsome) Then I started to observe why he's in the Unfriendable Group and deducted that he's got a stick the size of a log up his ass. Simple enough. But WAIT THERE'S MORE

I started his route PURELY because he was hot shhddvhgd even though I disliked him hard after my first playthrough. (Shiloh. I didn't believe the warnings. F in the chat bois.) He's not JUST a stickler to the rules nooooooo he's a PERFECTIONIST. And a SUPERHUMAN. But HE doesn't see it like that nooooo he thinks he's just the only one who puts in any effort at all. People keep telling him his standards are unreachable but ~obviously~ they're not. If he can do it, so can everyone else! They're just not trying hard enough! And he doesn't try to be perfect, no, that's impossible. He just wants to be the best he can!

But it's never enough. There's always room for improvement, after all. Nate could get a perfect score on a test and still be dissatisfied, because he could have elaborated on that point in his essay more, or his handwriting got too close to the marginalia on one line and that is unprofessional, or he thought on that one multi-choice question longer than he should have if he studied adequately, etc, etc.

And because of this he's constantly stressed the FUCK out. He volunteers when something needs to be done, he helps out teachers, he takes it upon himself to make sure everyone else is ALSO acting properly, he puts at LEAST 100% into EVERYTHING he does, and there's always more to do. He has a part-time job at a warehouse as well and while the physical labor can offer a bit of a break for his brain, you can bet your ASS he doesn't stop for ONE second or stay on his break a MINUTE too long. How the hell does he live like this?

Well. What other choice is there? Things need to be done. They need to be done well. And obviously Nate knows the importance of rest to your health and performance, so he certainly eats and sleeps properly, but see these things are also scheduled and measured and optimized for maximum efficiency. But does he get REST, for REAL? Does he RELAX?

Yes, because he's best friends and roomies (the room is spotless At All Times) with Everett "2kool4skool" Gray (who would shoot me point blank for saying something so uncool about him). I Could write another essay on their dynamic but let's just say they balance each other out. Nate gives Everett direction, Everett gives Nate respite. Phew.

But I'm not done. MORE MORE MORE. Because I started talking about my personal relationship to Nate but got sidetracked by character analysis dghfsfh THE THING IS I disliked him heavily even some time after starting his route, and all the characters absolutely SHINE on their dates. But then. The unthinkable happened.

The class trip.

Now of course I already knew Nate was extremely high strung all of the time, but until that point I'd seen it either as an annoyance or a joke. But the class trip was, like, a disaster to Nate. He's spending more time with the group outside strictly defined areas and activities and therefore feels responsibility over their behavior. Obviously a new environment with new activities gives everyone more opportunities to act up. They have a schedule, but it's not in Nate's control, and he can't help seeing himself as like a vice advisor, and nothing goes exactly as planned or at ALL as planned, and everyone's doing it on PURPOSE his life is already hell and they're doing it to SPITE him or maybe they're just completely unfit to the title of human being that's been forced on these demons, and this is STILL SCHOOL they're still bound by school rules and they should LEARN things here and GET SOMETHING OUT OF IT for HEAVENS sake,

So it's no wonder he breaks down. And it was, it was fucking terrible. Nate's stress and anxiety present as anger most of the time, I didn't... I didn't see him as the type who would cry. Kind of figured Nate was one of those boys who didn't remember the last time they cried but guessed it was somewhere around fourth grade? Heartless of me. I really thought he was like. Pardon the expression. Above such vulnerability.

Of course he's not. He's a person, and a highly sensitive one at that. I guess I hadn't noticed it over what a hardass he is;;; And y'all I felt SO bad. And so awkward. Like. What the fuck do you do in that situation? This wasn't supposed to happen. It felt like we were breaking the script somehow. Like. "I'm not supposed to see this. Why am I seeing this? Do I need to? Fucking christ. Is this allowed? When can I leave. Uh. There there? Can't even pat him on the shoulder. Jesus just kill me"

And that scene changed everything. Nate cried in front of the MC and I could never see him in the same light again. I used to think he was kinda just a tough yet guarded guy and a demanding ass but oh wow he's actually just like. This dude has anxiety. This dude has problems. He's burning out at light speed and has been for the past what? Eight years?? Get him HELP.

And I HAVEN'T EVEN TOUCHED ON HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS PARENTS YET. So they're the type who saw having children as just a step that responsible adults take at some point in their lives, and they were not prepared. And Nate was a difficult child too. Not on purpose, obviously, babies don't do anything on purpose, but he was particularity emotional even as a baby. He's just Like That. So his parents ehm eeeurgh tolerated him for a few years. Just kind of. Pushed through it. And then decided to give up and send him to a boarding school. Like they basically abandoned him there because they couldn't handle him.

And Nate is on hard denial about this. He tells himself it was the reasonable choice and the best for everyone, and he's not wrong, but he's also not ready to face the fact that uh. His parents very much just are not good at parenting and they don't actually know each other at all. "I respect them and they respect me" is how he puts it, and again it's not wrong but also christ he was not truly loved as a child and still isn't. Mommy and daddy hear that his grades are top of the class and he's very mature and responsible and respected by staff and students alike, and they're proud of him, but they do NOT know who he is as a person or how fucking terrible he's actually doing.

Not that Nate admits any of that himself. I can see how it would be difficult to face when you're already juggling fifty glass balls on a glass platter while riding a unicycle on hard stone floor.

Why is NATE is the one I give a private Ted Talk on regularly when none of the jerks are doing much better. He's just for fucks sake he, he's doing so bad. So bad. Maybe it's the incredibly harsh wakeup call I got? I cannot overstate how impactful that one scene was. HE CRIED. HE CRIED IN FRONT OF ANOTHER PERSON? HE BROKE DOWN?? NATE LAWSON HAS WEAKNESSES??? LIKE HE WASN'T JUST DOING ALL THAT FOR THE SAKE OF OBLIGATION OR TO LOOK GOOD ON A RESUME? HE'S REALLY THAT CRUSHED? I wasn't supposed to be there. I know it's a scripted event but I wasn't supposed to see that it feels not allowed. Are you still there? Thank you for reading go to sleep

[clarajohnson]

the magicians s2e7

STOP IGNORING ME STOP IGNORING ME YOU PUSSY !!!!!!

you will know exactly what i'm going to say i'm going to say it until she goes away. i love you niffin alice.

one of these dummies is gonna call the brain police and you've got priors!

Evil Things Inside of Me That Used to Be Alice

SOOO fucking interesting, their conversation on "boxing her up" because alice is right! he IS trapping her! the first time i watched this show i was truly TRULY so angry at him for this. when he says "or you could be quiet and you could let me try and solve this" like my god the man never lets anything go! it's so unhealthy and like NOW i don't blame him because he's my best friend but the first time around i could only think of it as selfish and sinister and controlling.

the world's foremost expert on all things me... an all timer quote. god what a quotable scene!

i'm not bloodthirsty i just wanna be free :-( sorry but she's so hot if she was bloodthirsty i'd still do what she wanted

julia's hair is so nice in this scene

i love you korean knife magicians i really love you so much sometimes this show really just charms me

BANK HEIST !!!!!!!!! one of my favorite moments in this show

GOOD BECAUSE I DON'T margo marry me

sometimes i think about how many plots are running in any given scene/episode/season of this show and i swear i could pass out like who remembered ember shitting in the wellspring except tick pickwick did !!!!!

also love the magic-seeing lenses in this show that's always been charming to me. same with the mann reveal but i like the little lenses more.

when they kill off the haxenpaxen it feels to me like they were like okay we can't keep track of all this. which must have been a difficult decision for the magicians showrunners.

that poor girl is ~fucked!~

yeah to circle back to the one million concurrent plots i like that q's plot for the time being is "liberate the being of pure chaotic energy that looks like my girlfriend which is trapped in the tattoo on my back" in the grand scheme of things here it's kind of a minor issue lol

raise your hand if she's the reason that you fucking exploded in this life!

my best friend in the world does crazy shit and doesn't listen to me and like he probably means jules but unfortunately it's true of literally every character on this show

q is a remarkably good friend very attentive very concerned

help us rob a bank oh my god yes

love the anthropomorphic books also. fun throughline.

kady and penny have crazy fucking chemistry CRAZY chemistry

THERE'S OUR LITTLE KING. oh my god ohhhhh my god

margo's hair is sooo so so good.

aw i love that eliot didn't know margo had robbed a bank. it's so obviously a device so she can walk them through the security procedures because he would absolutely know that within like a month of them knowing each other but it's so cute.

ohhhh margo's little two-piece outfit. i'm not gonna look it up but i'm pretty sure this was from 2016 and i know this simply because i wore a two-piece dress to my high school winter formal. it was a dark fucking time.

yeah pass i like air >:-(

kady could've had her own show there's so much going on with her. and you know what? i'm not ashamed to say it. underutilized in fic.

alice had the bedroom of a precocious seven-year-old daughter of a single mother in a 2009 dramedy. where the wild things are ass bedroom.

return of the best bitches !!!!!!

brakebills must have some CRAZY fucking wards you ever think about it?

"oh nut up it's just a finger"

penny and kady grow up as though q did not get that finger in an orifice he was perfectly fine with

margo is so excited to coordinate a bank heist she is the number one girl in the world

remarkably extraordinarily fake bees i have to admire it

q and his FUCKING inability to take a sweater off

penny not touching the floor stresses me out SO badly. toe on the floor. (penny voice) god damn it.

love the security guards in love

the wrecking ball is a weapon of peace :'-)

(cuntiest voice in the world) oh well, rest in peace penny

i understand his reasoning for not telling anyone about niffin alice in his head but if i was q i would've been immediately telling everyone like that's not the shit you keep inside

"i've always been good at math" i would never believe that

q's saddest little "oh no :-o" this heist has everything !!!!

once again i feel like horomancy only becomes a big tricky thing later in the series because jules invents a time machine within like an afternoon. maybe two days.

ohhhh the fucking dokkaebi stress me out

first of all el taking a fatal injury for q :-( second of all KADY FUCKING DECKING THE BATTLE MAGICIAN !!!!! third of all q struggling to leave even the golem oh this gentle little guy who is in love with eliot waugh

somebody find out how they did julia's lashes i'm jealous

[fitgothgirl]

Long write up about some issues of mine and the past, been wanting to get this out. Will probably send to my therapist lol... TW emotional abuse.

The more I think about, the more I know my dad and my ex really messed me up. I still defend my dad that overall he was a decent parent and he was only human. I had a very comfortable and happy childhood. He tried to be a good dad and was caring, but he also messed up a good amount of times. My ex on the other hand, fuck him. For the sake of whatever unknowing victim, I hope he never dated again for whatever reason, death included.

But they both contributed to one of my biggest weaknesses. Nothing is harder for me to do than speak my mind, stand up for myself, set boundaries, and so on. In my mind, a serious talk is synonymous with fight. There are always tears. I now know that ADHD can cause one to cry ridiculously easily or to just shutdown into silence during discussions because we can't handle the emotion. Makes so much sense, I do both those things. But it wasn't just the ADHD. Every important conversation didn't need to be an argument, or me getting shutdown, or something negative. So I have it lodged deeply in my brain that my interpretation of things is wrong. I'm always wrong, wrong, wrong. It's a mantra that often plays in my head.

My dad wasn't as bad as my ex. He was a single dad who worked a lot, who had two daughters that probably just reminded him so much of his crazy ex, who both ended up being a handful in their teens. He was just always stressed and had a short fuse and would scare me when he was pissed. He didn't do anything to me, just the way he talked through gritted teeth or how he yelled (or what he yelled) or how he was strict. I remember certain things would trigger both me and my sister to go to our rooms to be on our own - his car pulling up in the driveway, the sound of the garage door; we just wanted to stay out of his way when he first got home since we knew that's when he would be most on edge. I can also distinctly remember the sound of him walking up the stairs, when I would pause to listen if he would be turning left to our rooms or right to his room. I'd try to gauge his energy/mood in the subtleties of his step. Anyway, it wasn't the best atmosphere for standing up for myself or speaking my mind, etc. Parenting today has taken such a good turn where people are trying to move away from anger and yelling and punishments for mistakes, and instead treat their kids like people and have a more understanding and guiding attitude. But still, my bf is my age and I look at his family and they're just amazing... I know many people who felt like they could really talk to their parents. I know my situation was by far not the worst possible, but it also wasn't great.

And I went straight from that to some full on grade A emotional abuse for 3 years with my ex. Life was constantly walking on eggshells... Things I didn't know could be a fight were a fight. All I wanted was for him to stop criticizing me and yelling at me and I didn't know what to say to make it stop, which wouldn't happen until I was in tears (although not like that's hard). I couldn't win no matter what I said so I just shutdown and said whatever to appease him in the fewest amount of syllables. He had the final say with everything. No seeing friends without him, which was rare for him to agree to, unless I wanted to have it held over my head forever (along with any other "nice" or "lenient" things he did or "let" me do). Had to work 6 days a week but also be responsible for the cleaning of the apartment since I made less money than him. Panicking at work when I realized I left a dish out and he was going to be home before me. Trying to be as small as possible while he punched a hole in the wall. Not able to spend money without his approval. Sitting home alone before a 13 hour shift while sobbing and holding my cat about how utterly trapped I felt. And he didn't even fucking drive, I was his chauffeur... Oh and of course, at the end of every lash out, I was reminded how it was because he loved me and cared about me wanted me to grow as a person, etc. (If you're wondering, yes I'm embarrassed that I let myself put up with this.)

All this to say, the thought of any form of serious conversation is almost paralyzing. And I get so distressed that I forget things I want to say. And it always ends with me being wrong in some way anyway! This is not something I've imagined, this is learned from experience. It's not even me yielding to end the discussion - by the end I do see that I'm truly wrong and I wasn't thinking. So why should I speak my mind about things when I know I'm going to somehow end up in the wrong or otherwise judged or dismissed... And if something gets brought up by someone else with any tinge of anger or irritation or even seriousness? I just shutdown. If I have to speak then just have a one track mind to appease.

This all leads to me being the mediator (INFP-T for sure), the one to keep the peace. Always adding smiles and laughs to what I'm doing or saying to keep others at ease. Trying to steer things back when any negative emotion rises, silently begging against any conflict. Just fawn response all day everyday.

I've now been with a wonderful guy for almost 12 years and yet I often still feel so trapped inside myself.

[lizajane2]

The Last of Us episode one rewatch

"Cordyceps, aspergillus, any of them could become capable of burrowing into our brains and taking control not of millions of us, but billions of us. billions of puppets with poisoned minds permanently fixed on one unifying goal to spread the infection."

The amount of fear that settled in that room... good god. Like right off the fucking bat tlou starts off really fucking intense. No one wants to hear, "the world is fucked at that point" it's a hard fucking pill to swallow.

"Get your homework done?" I love the look Sarah gives him, "you can hardly take care of yourself and you're asking me about fractions?" LOL.

The slow southern drawl in Pedro's voice is even better when I wear headphones. I'm also secretly admiring his arms... fuck me. And we only get Tommy for barely five minutes and it's so easy to love the man too. It's uncanny how Gabriel Luna sounds so similar to Jeffrey Pierce.

The entire time Sarah has her back turned to the old woman; I'm internally screaming at her to get the fuck outta that house.

"Stay indoors," then Sarah goes outside. Girl, I know like 8 of the Halloween movies have come out, and you dare to venture outside? Then into the Adler's house knowing damn well that Mercy refused to step inside.

"Help me." No, bitch. Run!

Fuck those things coming out of that woman's mouth just get nastier and nastier every time I see it.

You see one of the many things I love about Joel Miller, is that his instinct to survive doesn't gradually happen over time it's an immediate switch. He no longer sees people anymore or has the compassion to even think about helping others. It's all about keeping his family safe. Keeping Sarah safe. He apologized to Sarah for scaring her and didn't even take a second to even feel remorse for killing that Runner, to Sarah it was still a person.

Until Sarah mentioned terrorists, I had forgotten that the series is set two years after 9/11.

Protective Joel pre-outbreak and post-outbreak is just... ugh, it's a sight to see on my screen again.

The first time I watched the runner getting closer to Sarah and Joel, I was too occupied with the stress and knowing that my heart was going to be ripped from my chest to see Sarah die. I can't help but laugh now at the number of times that runner was bumping and tipping over itself. I'm sorry, it's the desperation.

If you think "the government wouldn't ever do that" just know they absolutely fucking would kill anyone they thought might be infected. Even if you weren't.

Literally trying not to cry in a coffee shop right now... the acting from Pedro alone as he pleads for Sarah to stay with him, damn it all to hell. So fucking heartbreaking.

I have a weakness for the salt-and-pepper look on a man, it's fucking sexy. Especially on men like Pedro Pascal and Oscar Isaac.

"Yeah, but what about your guy." That tells you all you need to know about Joel. Man is fucking scary.

"Seven, eight, fuck... you." Ellie my girl, I just love you. Bella is perfect and no one can change my mind about it.

"We are in a war against FEDRA to restore democracy and freedom." I'd believe it if it wasn't for the amount of bullshit spewing from Marlene's mouth. Maybe she believes that... but I sure as fuck don't. I mean it's like she said it's been twenty years, and none of that shit exists anymore. She's trying to rebuild a past that would come at such a high cost. Building that type of society again wouldn't be worth it.

"Kim, you don't have a fuckin' ear on your fuckin' head." LMFAO!!

"What are they capable of?" A lot of terrible shit. Joel also has no problem committing mass murder. I love him and I'm scared of him in equal measure.

The way Pedro sits on the couch with his legs spread like that is seared into my brain. I think about it. A LOT. I'm just:

You can see the exact moment Joel, no longer sees Ellie and is instantly replaced with the memory of Sarah. My man hasn't even gone through the five stages of grief yet and almost ended up in the same situation, in the same episode, with two different children.