#and so i realized this and was like 'what are we doing???' and by god we will do better by this child!!!!!

[bi-writes]

What do we think about price x young!Wife reader who is kept away from the team (for obvious reasons) and when she is on base to bring some important files to his office, world collide

I think it would be really cute if she gets mistaken for a recruit

he's not moving fast enough for you.

you roll your window down even more, sticking your head out, and you slide your sunglasses down your nose so you can meet eyes with the muppet standing guard at the gates.

"repeat that for me?"

"you're not on the list," the man repeats. he narrows his eyes at you. "all guest personnel must be approved before they enter. i don't make the rules, but i do enforce them."

you raise a brow. your manicured finger slides down the steering wheel, tracing the leather of it, and you let out a deep breath before laughing humorlessly.

"okay. i need you to get on your stupid radio and get captain john price on there. then, you're going to tell him who exactly is waiting here, and then after he informs you that you will let me through, i'm going to make sure you spend the next two weeks scrubbing fucking toilets." you sit back in your seat. you don't mean to be rude or mean, you're usually very kind and very considerate, but you are about to blow the roof off of your patience after the day you've had, and you just want to drop john's things off and go.

the guard scoffs, picking up his radio. he rolls his eyes at you before he goes back into his little office. after a few minutes, he comes back out. his eyes are on the floor, and he comes up to your window and gives you back your id. you toss it into your purse, and he clears his throat nervously.

"i-i'm so...i-i'm so sorry, mrs. price, i--"

"save it."

you put your car in drive and step on it. the purr of your pretty german car leaves the guard in the dust, and you park haphazard, taking up two spots, but you just grab your purse and john's papers and turn the car off anyways.

you're mrs. john fucking price. you'll park how you please, and they can get over it.

you're dressed more casually. you're wearing dark green cargo pants, a white t-shirt, sneakers, and one of john's army-green jackets. when you see yourself in the reflection of a window, you realize you kind of dressed appropriately for the setting, without even meaning to.

you open the door to the building john texted you about, and you walk in with your sunglasses still on. there's a lot of desks around, offices, an ugly mess of couches around a tv that a bunch of recruits are playing team fortress 2 at. they're whooping and yelling, but you pay them no mind as you follow a sign towards the office number john gave you.

you bump right into a big chest. you stumble backwards, scoffing, and you pull your sunglasses off as you tip your head back and glare up. there's some big, giant bear-man standing in your way, and he isn't moving.

"excuse me," you say firmly. "do we have a problem?"

the big dude tilts his head to the side, like he's sizing you up (which is stupid, since he's probably bigger than anyone). he's wearing a DIY skull mask, something messily sewed and painted with thick fingers, and you really want this halloween-enthusiast to get the fuck out of your way so you can leave as soon as possible.

"we? i don't got a problem."

his voice is deep. all gravel, very low, and his tone is very condescending. you may be smaller than him, but your teeth are sharper.

you're sure of that.

"but you've got one," he continues, narrowing his eyes. "those nails aren't regulation."

"excuse me?"

"you heard me."

"i did, but you must be fucking out of your mind if you think i answer to you."

"listen 'ere," the man spits. "i'm a fuckin' lieutenant, and y'r gonna talk t'me like i'm one before i have y'r arse--"

"get out of my way!" you snap at him. "as far as i'm concerned, i outrank every single idiot in this entire fucking building. i don't care if you're a sergeant, a lieutenant, i don't care if you're fucking royalty! move, or i'll make you, so help me god."

"simon."

at the sound, the bear turns around, stepping aside. when peek around his arm, you see your husband, arms crossed over his chest casually as he leans against the wall. he's got a relaxed smile on his face, boonie hat tipped back a little.

"well, this isn't how i wanted you two to meet," john chuckles.

"what, you know this meathead?" you scoff, and the lieutenant, simon, snarls like a dog at your response.

"simon, this is my wife."

simon steps back from you as if you'll sting him. he swallows, his face relaxing under the mask, and you glare at him. you don't expect an apology from someone like him, but you guess the way he reverts his eyes from you is the equivalent of it. you don't think a man like him ever feels out of place or threatened.

"love, this is my lieutenant."

"the lieutenant."

"quite right."

you let out a harsh breath through your nose. you don't say anything more to simon, just give him your back as you walk past him towards your husband. you don't say anything more to simon; he's saved your husband's life before, so he can be let off easy.

this time at least.

when you lift your hand to give john some papers, simon zeroes in on the giant rock on your left hand, the several carat diamond that sits there.

fuck.

"next time you need something from home, i'm gonna need the red carpet rolled out for me, understand me, john?" you tell him. john smiles, crow's feet deepening, and you narrow your eyes. "say you understand me, john."

"mhm. i understand."

"i don't mean just making sure my name is on some list, i mean an escort and a voss water. in the glass bottle."

"of course, sweetheart."

he bends to kiss you, and you let him. you put a hand under his jaw, thumbing at his beard, and the hat covers the way he lets his tongue slip out and into your mouth. if you didn't have an audience, the taste of tobacco on his tongue would be enough for you to kneel and suck his cock, but he's busy, and you have a hair appointment to get to.

you pull away slowly, touching his bottom lip.

"you better be home in time for dinner," you say. "seven. don't be late."

"won't be late."

his baby blues are so bright, even in the awful fluorescent light. you kiss him again, cupping the back of his neck, and when you pull away, you put your mouth to his ear.

"your office? got ten minutes?"

"no, sweetheart," he murmurs. "don't have it."

"john..." you grip the sides of his tact vest, pouting. "please? please?"

john sighs, shaking his head. he kisses your forehead before nodding behind you, to his lieutenant that still won't leave.

"walk her out, simon. make sure she leaves alright."

"olright."

simon opens your car door for you, and when you get in, you shove your seatbelt into place, angrily starting the car up again. you're having a bad day, and you're horny now.

"goodbye, lieutenant," you say smartly. "by the way, there's some smartass at the front that i told would have to scrub toilets. i trust that you can carry that out for me."

"'ow long?"

"told him two weeks, but i think a day will do just fine."

"'n why's tha'?"

"well, i'm not mad at him anymore, but i'm still a price. and price's follow through on their threats, lieutenant."

you put your sunglasses on, and the window goes back up. simon watches with rapt attention as you pull out with a rev of the engine, and when he glares at you, you smile, raising your hand to flip him off.

the big diamond on your hand blinds him as you drive off.

[leidensygdom]

Okay, we all know about the usual warlock-patron dynamics. Creature with god-like powers tries to do their bidding or further their plans through a mortal, who is often going to be troubled by the pact. But, I'm here to propose some alternatives, specially for warlock deals that aren't inherently very harmful to the warlock themself:

This one is pretty typical, but the patron is a family member. If sorcerers can get cool powers from having a dragon grandpa, your fire genasi can have an auntie who is a big fire elemental who is trying VERY hard to connect with her family now, so she gives her nephew an allowance in the form of a Genie Pact

Your patron is undead (and your pact is Undying), but this person is not some power-hungry lich. This is someone you knew in life: A friend, or perhaps a partner. You had fought for a common cause, and they met their death trying to see the end of it, but they refused to leave you alone. Now, within you, their stubbornness has kept them from moving on, and they lend their newfound powers to help you in your common cause.

It's an eldritch entity, a creature beyond your comprehension. Your pact is that of a Great Old One. However, this creature doesn't quite have very concise plans to bring the end of the world- You're actually pretty sure it isn't even from your world. As time goes on, and as you realize their whims seem erratic, you realize that this thing you get powers from is... Probably the cosmic equivalent of a child. Maybe it's still cocooning in the depths of a distant dying planet. And it's incredibly bored. Someday, maybe, they'll terrorize the universe, but right now, they just really want you to be their eyes on another world. Call it enrichment.

Okay, this one is a fiend. Unequivocally so. But truthfully, they couldn't care less about your world, and you're not particularly concerned about what is going down in theirs. They kinda need few things done in your plane, few resources gathered, some people talked to, and between the lines, you realize that your newfound... ally is actually trying to oppose their boss or whatever. This one is a deeply legal-minded fiend, as far as you know: The hellish equivalent to a bureaucrat, after really digging around. Your party is convinced they will turn on you sometime, but eventually you realize you're just helping something that, for a lack of a better word, has to be an infernal-equivalent of an union effort.

That sword you picked was definitely cursed, and the voice within it has been calling to you. Eventually, you lend them your ear, and now you have an Hexblade pact. But this creature isn't bloodthirsty, nor talking to you about soaking their blade with your foes' guts. Truthfully, they hate being a sword. Trapped there as part of a vengeance, perhaps, this thing longs for freedom. And it has been used for evil in the past- Maybe the overabundance of skull motifs in their physical vessel didn't help. But this creature just wants to be able to experience a life that has been robbed from them. Your party may raise an eyebrow at you getting friendly with the possibly-malignant sword, but y'all are just making plans to get them to your favourite restaurant once they're freed.

This Archfey is the descendant of a powerful entity in Feywild side of things. The heir of some great lineage, or whatever is going on within their realm. You frankly don't know, because they're a bit of a... brat. One that kinda longs to escape their situation and get to live something more normal. You only find out this over time, when you realize you're kinda that friend their parents frown about. This entity, powerful beyond comprehension, just really wants to hang out with you and have a board game night with you. They'd love to meet your besties-- I mean, your world-saving allies. And you'd love to give them the opportunity someday, truth be told, but pissing off a fey court seems to be a high price.

You got stranded far into the ocean as a kid, and the rest of the people involved in the shipwreck did not make it out. But you attracted the attention of a group of merfolk, who had barely ever had the chance to meet someone like you. People had told you tales of how they'd drown and eat anyone coming into their territory, but these creatures were instead cooing about you. You're now grown up, and you can call them for power. Your party frowns at the idea of "I kinda got adopted by a sea polycule and I got a cantrip and few other boons about it", but you know they'll have to eat their words when you bring them for dinner- If you can find a way to table them in the middle of the ocean, that is.

the celestial patron is still a dick tho

Feel free to add onto these if you'd like, I'd love to hear concepts >:3

[summertimesadnessirl]

They literally just want to pretend that the whole last 50 odd years never happened.

It's so weird. Like? What did you do that you are like this, buddy? Let's talk about it.

Are you upset because you got programmed from birth to believe sex is evil and now you can't get off unless you think God is mad at you and you're committing a crime and one of the people involved in the sex hates it?

Have you heard of BDSM? Because we can literally simulate that feeling just for you using technology for the rest of your life without you having to take over the entire government and kill off a bunch of nice kids with blue hair and shaved eyebrows or who go by a word that makes you think you can't be a naughty boy for wanting to have sex wearing clothes from a different gender occasionally, and those people literally don't care if you wanna be called slurs for doing that when you have sex, believe it or not.

What's your deal? Did it turn out you don't like sex, you just like the idea of something mysterious and otherworldly and pleasureable that nobody introduced you to that other people are totally doing? Because we can fix you right up with drugs and intentionally confusing poetry.

Yeah. You can even start your very own mystery cult if you want, as long as you don't commit genocide or anything. We can all pretend to not know about your mystery cult. We can all pretend to be bad guys from your mystery cult. We can play that game until you barely remember your own name, it's fine.

Do you just need someone to take care of you, like in a disability accommodation kind of way? Or like, are you working too many hours? We can't really fix that with bdsm. We can play that but typically the people doing bdsm only want to play that for a few hours at a time before they need a break, but have you heard about the wonders of automation?

Yeah. We can automate a lot of the stuff that stresses you out like cleaning your floors and paying your bills on time and reordering your prescriptions and your groceries and stuff. It would work better if the minimum wage was higher and the average person got paid more often than biweekly, and we still really need to design housing with a washing machine in the bathroom that washes and dries your clothes instead of putting them in the hamper, but look, we made a little guy who lives in your computer who can take every meeting that should have been an email and turn it into a bulleted list for you. We can also do this thing where he draws pictures of your boss experiencing cartoonish violence or turning into like a weird bug when you are being bullied and it can protect you pretty well from The Emails as well. Yes. I know. The emails are scary.

If your job is really stressing you out you should meet my new friend fully automated luxury communism sometime. Their idea is that we should automate all the jobs where it seems like most of your day is spent kind of hanging out hoping that your boss doesn't realize you aren't working and getting a super high cortisol level for no reason or filling out forms to send to people who use the forms to fill out other forms who get approval via some more forms to make a phone call to a guy who works 20 feet away and give everyone a dividend so that they can work fewer hours and hang out. Yeah, there are a lot of people who believe this who enjoy fighting over the details of that, it's their hobby and also they're all afraid if they don't fight one another a lot they'll turn evil. No, not the sexy kind of evil, the other kind.

Do you need clearly defined rules that you are supposed to follow in social situations in order to feel safe, but also bdsm isn't your thing because you also need other people to follow clearly defined rules? Have you tried video games, team sports, or tabletop games? You might like those.

Did someone hurt you when you were young and call it gender and you didn't realize it because you thought that was just a normal part of growing up and you are getting uncomfortable flashbacks about that time, but talk therapy super doesn't work for you because talking about it makes it worse? That's valid. Have you tried psychedelic drugs yet? Psychedelic drugs have been used to fix that problem and many others like it for generations and generations. Using the magic of psychedelic drugs, we can make sure that you feel totally fine and safe whenever you interact with people being raised in a different way than you were and even carefully obliterate all traces of your childhood trauma for decades at a time. We also can continue to give you more, if that works for ya.

There's really no reason to do nazi shit at all.

Btw, this is how conservatives keep getting to claim that trans people are a new thing no one has ever heard, because our history and existences have continually been erased or obscured systematically through out history.

The most famous example was 92 years when the Nazis raided the library of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, the medical practice where the term transsexual was first coined and the first gender affirming surgery was performed in in 1931.

What did the Nazis do after raiding the library on May 6th, 1933? You may be familiar with these images

It is happening again.

[artemisiasmuse]

Hey so ur insanely fucking talented I JUST read ur latest prompt if u have the time 🙂‍↔️ can we pls get a prompt of rafe going through readers Pinterest acc just to find that hidden board she’s so secretive about since she feels like ‘it’s too early for That and rafe wouldn’t like it’ and when reader finds out she’s just all prissy and a lil embarresed and rafes just all adorable about it <3333 anyways ly and take care it could be long too just dump ur head innit

ANON YOUR MIND i want to kiss ur brain, thank u for the support i appreciate so much :((

cw: fluff^2, some manhandling, height difference

rafe finding your wedding board:

he’s using your laptop for some work thing he can’t delay and since he’s at your place it just makes sense and you don’t think twice about it

once he’s done he notices your open tabs and while rafe is vehemently against snooping he can’t help himself but click on the “<3 wedding <3” pinterest tab he finds it full of rings, dresses, ceremony, decorations, cakes, and even invitation pictures. he thinks it’s sweet and he’s about to leave it alone, chalking it up to another girly thing, when he notices the description of the board. “for me and rafey one day” and then he decides no he can’t leave it alone. he takes a few pictures of the rings, for later, and tries to leave your laptop just as it was

he finds you in your room, putting clothes away into your closet and can’t help but think how you would in a wedding dress or just how pretty a ring would look on your fingers

you notice him staring, turning towards him with a smile, setting down the clothes you were folding, “all good?” he decides he’d much rather find out where you head is at, were you waiting for him to pop the question? you guys were young sure but not that young.

“uh huh, saw something interesting though.” his hands find your hips, turning you around so your back is to the wall. he knows you’ll try to run, so he gently walks you two backwards until your back is against the wall. you’re so trusting all you do is look up at him with wide eyes, he wonders if he should be concerned with how easily you let him manhandle you

“yeah what’s that rafey?” you mumble, taken with how strong your boyfriend is and how good he looks in a plain white tee. it should be illegal

“rafey there’s that name, you know you and rafey could make ‘one day’ a lot sooner.” he smirks down at you, leaning down with his arm resting next to your head, caging you in. you close your eyes as you realize at once what he’s referring to, embarrassment making you unable to meet his eyes. oh god you were so fucked. you’d been dating a while but you didn’t think it was time to bring up marriage! you were scared of rafe finding out and now you’d definitely fucked it up. god how embarrassing!

“hey! you weren’t supposed to see that.” you huff, your cheeks puffing up and you’re practically stomping your feet like a little kid. rafe is endlessly endeared, laughing at your reaction

“oh but you left it open, thought you wanted me to see?” he was crowding you against the wall, leaning down so he was your height and you couldn’t help but blink up at him owlishly. rafe was having too much fun teasing you.

“no i-, it was a mistake okay? just forget you saw it, we’re too young and it’s too-“

“relax baby, i thought it was cute, i was ready to propose on our second date.” he cut you off, there was no way in hell he’d give you the impression he wasn’t all in. your heartbeat stuttered at his words, second date, so early on you hadn’t even thought about a relationship let alone marriage.

“stop teasing.” your cheeks puffed up, if you weren’t so embarrassed you might have cried from how mean he was being. you really loved him truly and deeply, if he proposed you weren’t even sure if you could bring yourself to say no, age be damned.

“i’m not, mrs. cameron” your lashes fluttered at the name, rafe loved how easy it was to read you.

“oh my god.” you groaned, stuffing your face into his chest and making him laugh at your reaction. rafe thinks you should start getting used to the name, it’s gonna be yours soon anyway. now he just has to steal one of your rings to get the size right.

[wanderingblindly]

just thinking about past!oscar seeing how seemingly normal future!oscar is about fucking lando and being flabbergasted. How can you be so normal about this! This is Lando Norris! and you're so casual and normal and how do you do this because I can barely look him in the eye. Anyways oscar being jealous of himself because he gets to fuck lando regularly and oscar has to go back to silently pining and liking Instagram posts

idk if this made any sense but I don't think I'll ever move on from future past

(future past)

oh my god I'm literally sooooooooooooo excited to figure out what baby oscar's dynamic is gonna be with older landoscar, you don't even know. Because part of me is like "oh well if he thinks this is all a dream, maybe he'd be more like the Prema oscar we saw in the challenge videos" but then it's, like you said, important to consider the debilitating crush he has....... the possibilities.....

you KNOW that lando is going to torment the fuck out of both of these oscar's. He's going to revel in how easy it is to break past oscar compared to current oscar, and he's going to teasingly ask oscar "so this is why you turned out like that huh?". I can feel it in my bones (they say, the one who can choose what Lando does)

I've also written a teensy bit of the intro (as a DRAFT) if anyone is interested :)) it's not the same universe at all, just the same idea applied to a new version of landoscar

Prospective Aspect

To be more accurate, Lando realizes with a shaking breath, two Oscars wake up and search for him – rubbing their eyes the exact same way, jaws stretching into twin yawns.

Except the other Oscar, he's –

Lando gapes at them, seconds away from slapping himself. "Oscar, tell me you've got like, a secret little brother."

"No?" They say at the same time – voices different in pitch, both lazy with sleep.

That wakes them up, bolting upright at the same time and whipping to face each other with a glimmer of panic that fades behind a carefully schooled neutrality.

"That's…" Lando whispers, almost inaudible over the sound of his heart racing in his chest, his pulse swimming in his ears. "You?"

"Yeah, um." Oscar – his Oscar – clears his throat, shaking his head like he's still trying to wake up. "Y'wouldn't happen to be like… you're at Prema, right?"

Oscar – the other Oscar, smaller, softer – blinks at him before answering. "Are you…?"

"You, yeah."

"Me."

"You but, like, older."

"You're…?"

"Thirty-two, and you're –"

His voice cracks, "Nineteen."

Lando's eyes flicker between them, looking but not really seeing. He's too frenzied, thoughts racing at a million miles per minute. Had someone slipped him something before he fell asleep? Was this just a bizarre dream?

Why the fuck was Oscar so casual about this?

The boy looks over at him, his Oscar following suit, when it hits him; younger Oscar's eyes widen just a hair, his Oscar's brow twitches.

"And you're –" His tone is reverent, almost breathless.

A slow smile spreads across Lando's lips. They're panicked, the both of them. "Lando Norris, yeah." He watches the boy's Adam's apple bob as he swallows.

[suzukiblu]

hi, question for you, have you ever experienced prolonged writer’s block before? do you happen to have any advice for getting a writing flow going again, that you’d be willing to share?

bc i don’t want to get too heavy in your asks, but between chronic illness/fatigue and longterm autistic burnout i haven’t been able to write a single word in several years now, and GOD am i tired of it. it’s like all the stories and words are stuck inside me and i can see it all in my head but the faucet is jammed and i just can’t get it OUT! i have been slowly feeling like the creative embers are maybe starting to spark again but it’s so hard not to get impatient with myself because it never seems to actually transfer to paper (or word document or notes app). any ideas or tips?

no pressure to answer this if you don’t want to of course, regardless i really enjoy your writing and i’m so glad that i can at least engage with fandom through other authors even when i can’t write my own stories! 💛

Oh god, yeah, I DEFINITELY have experienced that, hahasob. I have gone through at LEAST a year or two without, like, putting down a single word or even drawing anything, just total creative block/not there-ness. Like I feel u on that one, bud.

Good news: now if I write less than 2k in a day I think "oh that's kinda low, huh", so like . . . definitely "didn't write jack shit for [ INSERT TIME PERIOD HERE ]" has yet to sink me, and therefore fuck if it's gonna sink ANY of us. We persevere!!

So like, in my experience actually helpful writing advice is just SO wildly "you just gotta try shit 'til something works"-based that I'mma just give you a list made up of a bunch of, like, assorted tips and tricks that I use on myself to make my brain put words down when it's being stubborn about it, though different ones work at different times and obvi YMMV here anyway because for obvious reasons these are all approaches that I have tailored to my own needs, hah, and some of them are a bit facetious and some are also a bit heavy, but absolutely and unironically I reguarly use them all and they have all repeatedly worked for me.

Also, they're all gonna be goin' behind a cut because WOW there's actually a lot more of them than I realized I had, hahaha. The psychiatrist who recently used me as a case study told me I was very self-aware, so take from that what you will, friend.

Get up and do a chore/take a shower/eat a snack/literally just walk through a friggin' doorway, more often than not it'll at least make your brain reorient enough for you to realize you were just beating your head against a wall and need to do [ INSERT DAMAGE CONTROL/HARM REDUCTION BEHAVIOR HERE ].

Track your progress. Write to-do lists and cross shit off 'em. Keep track of your word count when you write; put it in a spreadsheet or a notebook or on a graph on your bulletin board.

Get a NEW way to track your progress. I currently use, like, three different "to-do list" apps to varying degrees in varying ways, not counting just my basic calendar app ( for the record: Finch, Structured, and just a generic notes app, but mostly Finch and Structured and seriously I CANNOT recommend Finch enough, go get yourself a bird buddy immediately. do you want a friend code, I will GIVE you a friend code, I think it gives you a bonus mini-pet or something if you use it. ), and also set myself MANY a phone alarm to remind myself of things that I need to do in case I space out or get distracted by somebody/something/the specific phase of the moon.

Did you take your meds? Take your fucking MEDS, self, good LORD.

Leave the house even if for literally, like, thirty seconds to just stand in some actual natural light. Or leave the house to go eat at a cafe or library or fast food place and just put yourself in a new environment for literally any length of time whatsoever.

Switch pens. Switch notebooks. Get a NEW notebook. Use your laptop instead. Use your PHONE instead. Get a nicer notebook. Get a shittier notebook. Use the scratch paper at work. Use the Procreate app on your friggin' iPad if you gotta, whatever, you do what you want!!

Don't write!!

Seriously just don't, go watch an actual scripted TV show or movie or read a book or a comic or some fic. Feed your brain something you didn't have to make up yourself.

Come up with a convoluted way to trick yourself into being accountable to someone else. Join a writing group. Make a Tumblr post about how you're gonna go write now. Ask Tumblr for their opinion on what you should write now. Ask Tumblr to spin this random wheel spinner game you generated and tell you what answer they got, and then write THAT.

HAVE you had a snack? Did you eat breakfast? Did you eat lunch? Did you remember to move around the house at any point whatsoever during the day? Maybe like, do that. Like, at least the snack part. Maybe a stretch or something wouldn't hurt either though.

Meal prep is so fucking useful and saves you SO much annoying time and also, like, makes you eat actual veggies and fruit and shit, genuinely actually works, the gym bros were not wrong, go figure. Also then you don't have to think about what you're gonna eat all the time and then cook it and then clean up and then--yeah anyway meal prep, god bless it. Once a week I make a batch of pasta salad and roast a pan of good-when-roasted veggies with like, garlic and salt and pepper and some olive oil and add bacon after, and then I portion it all into tupperware and in the morning I add spinach or crack an egg into that day's share of veggies for breakfast and maybe make some toast, and just grab one of the pasta salads whenever I want something lunch-like. It saves SO much time and distraction when you are hurting for free time/focus. So, SO much.

Unfortunately the gym bros were also correct about exercise, if that's doable for you. Exercise does in fact make you feel better and more energized and less depressed, fuck those guys for being right about that shit. Assuming you have enough iron in your blood to actually, like, do it, which admittedly I frequently do not, but the point stands.

Dude why are you even trying to write, you're so tired, go to bed and get up early, you write SO much better in the mornings anyway.

Hey, I know that's how you USED to write, but like, is that actually how you write right now? Is that actually even what works for you anymore? Actually maybe outlines COULD be helpful or maybe you don't need all those worldbuilding notes all at once; maybe your inner architect needs to let the building decay and go back to nature or maybe your inner gardener has developed a taste for trellises, metaphorically speaking and all.

Please eat something. Also please DRINK something. Like ideally water but we'll go for anything that involves a liquid, seriously.

Hey did you know actually if you ONLY eat instant ramen and microwave pizza you'll probably get scurvy and die instead of, like, writing your magnum opus? Like probably?? Put a fucking egg in that ramen, man! Slice up a scallion in that bitch!! EAT AN ACTUAL WHOLE FRUIT or at least, like, buy a smoothie with actual fruit involved somewhere in it on occasional. The whole fruit, unfortunately, is better. I like apples. Apples take a REAL long time to rot if I forget they exist for a couple weeks or whatever. But like, mango smoothies are also the shit, can't turn down a mango smoothie or a good strawberry-banana. Hey did you know the grocery store just, like, will let you just buy one single apple and they don't give a fuck? You're free! The cashier won't remember you in five minutes!! Buy your one single apple and work your way up to maybe two apples next time!! Also now I want an apple!!!!

Don't write. Don't write THAT. Write the other thing. No, the OTHER other thing. No, not THAT other other thing.

The rules are made up and the points don't matter.

Fuck it, we ball.

[ INSERT FULL-THROTTLE STIMMING BEHAVIOR HERE ]

Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic.

God, that's the weirdest fucking idea you've ever had, literally NO ONE but you would read it. So you should write 180k of it and also make it even weirder and yes it will absolutely be the one fic that just about everyone in MCU fandom who knows you exist knows you for, don't even worry about it, this isn't based on a true story at all.

Actually you could probably storyboard this scene to figure out wtf is happening here. Or like just draw literally anything related to this story, a bit of that might work some kinks out of the whole process.

Did you get that snack yet?

Hey go pet your dog, she's very soft and wants attention and also her OWN snack. Pet your dog and eat an apple and idk watch some anime or a weird niche documentary or an even more niche reality show, have you seen Deep-Fried Dynasty yet, it's on Hulu and was surprisingly engrossing.

Why are you even following the rules, we've been over this, they are made up and the points do NOT matter, and also you're not even getting graded for this anyway.

Yeah okay that thing you wrote sucked, but it turns out that Dean Koontz somehow has a writing career and also Twilight happened to all of us, so actually even the suckiest thing you ever write is gonna be better than the perfect ideal of the scene in your head, because the suckiest thing you ever write is something OTHER people can READ. And again: Dean Koontz has a career. Colleen HOOVER has a career. And fucking good for them, they're killing it, they are fucking WRITING!! Who gives a damn anyway, fix it in editing if you're that worried about it, they call it a rough draft for a reason.

Hey if that thing doesn't work you can just, like, delete it. Or rewrite it. Or stick it in your back pocket and do something else for a while. The sunk-cost fallacy is bullshit and you don't have to listen to it.

Maybe drink some more caffeine, that'll calm you down. [ DISCLAIMER: THIS PIECE OF ADVICE TAILORED TO A PERSON WITH MORE ADHD THAN LITERALLY NINETY-FIVE PERCENT OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH ADHD; THAT PERCENTAGE IS ON THE ACTUAL LEGITIMATE DIAGNOSTIC PAPERWORK ]

Seriously you can just write anything you want, nobody can stop you. Only God can judge me and I'm still technically agnostic enough that that's like, thirty-seventy odds at BEST.

God that idea is so niche and weird and niche, better tone it the fuck down to--oh wait no mass appeal means you're writing popcorn and literally no one will remember it in five minutes anyway, stop reflexively censoring yourself for some imaginary audience that will just chew straight through your one-size-fits-all story for The Content(tm) and then immediately move onto the next one without even bothering to hit "kudos" or remember anything about it later. I have written shit so weird that people still remember how weird I was TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER, man, and that is why literally anyone will EVER remember that you exist or wanna read your stuff or follow you to a new fandom where they don't even know the source material, fuck it, they'll wiki some shit. And also who cares anyway, it's YOUR stuff and YOU wanna read it. Your agnostically-possible god did not make you this weird and niche for no reason, don't pussy out now!!

Actually you can just write in the bath/on the bus/while waiting for your roommate to finish up with the guy running this estate sale. You've got your phone, right? Fuck it, pack a notebook. Pack an extra notebook. Pack a smaller notebook. Pack a BIGGER notebook.

It's not stupid if it works. You don't have to do what literally ANYONE else is doing, you just have to do what works.

You can literally just skip to the good part and write that, actually. Nobody's gonna throw you in writer-jail. What are we, cops?? Actually do you even need this lead-up here or do you just need to write this one specific blorbo gettin' laid REAL enthusiastically kinkily and/or maybe having a nervous breakdown sobfest over their perception of their personal self-worth and everything else is kinda just window dressing??

I mentioned the snack thing, right? Also sugar rushes are fake but sugar CRASHES are real so maybe be a little careful on that one, maybe buy some trail mix/jerky/smoked salmon, smoked salmon is SO good, smoked salmon is just objectively delicious.

Go talk somebody's ear off about what you're trying to write about. Bonus points if you can find somebody who matches your freak enough that you write, uhhhhh /checks smudged writing on wrist/ a 60k Overwatch fic in two weeks and also like 280k of Witcher fic in less than a year specifically because they're just a real good cheerleader. Wow. Wow that was a lot more Witcher fic than I was aware I had written. THE POINT IS LOOK FOR A WRITING BUDDY, WRITING BUDDIES ARE THE SHIT.

If the writing buddy doesn't work out though the first time I won NaNoWriMo I did it directly out of spite because someone said they didn't think I actually would. So like, spite is always an option, you can always keep that one on tap if you gotta.

Stephen King did not write "On Writing" because he didn't want you to write. Francesca Lia Block did not introduce you to the weirdest and gayest shit teenage!you had ever read so you'd grow up and be a fucking NORMIE about this shit. SIR TERRY PRATCHETT DID NOT WRITE LIKE SIXTEEN OF YOUR FAVORITE BOOKS OF ALL TIME BECAUSE HE DID NOT WANT YOU TO WRITE WHAT YOU WERE ACTUALLY FRICKIN' INTO.

Clean your room. No, better than that. Okay fuck it just set a ten-minute timer and do what you can in that time, we work with the spoons we've got.

Random number generator. Random color generator. Random "hey followers here's a very oblique poll, don't even worry about what it's about, just click a button please and thank you".

Did you know the internet will just GIVE you free graphs/trackers/bullet journal page designs and you can just print 'em out and do whatever the heck you want with 'em?? Yes my new little "color in the squares every day you do the thing" tracker IS just six daily writing tasks and two daily "just go pick some stuff up in this specific room" tasks and that is MY BUSINESS, MS. SIR AND MR. MADAM AND MX. [ INSERT BUZZER SOUND ]. And also, like, has done much better at getting me to do chores than anything else has in a minute, go fig.

You can actually just do whatever you want forever.

Literally, like just forever.

Fuck, how many times HAVE you done this? You'll never get better for good, it'll always go bad again, you'll always get sick again, you'll always get SAD again, you'll always fucking forget how to even DO this again and have to start all over.

Well yes, obviously, because you'll always have done it again. So do it again. One more time.

( seriously though did you take your meds-- )

[yes-sirr]

black and blue bruises

i keep imagining reader having over protective brothers who learn that their baby sister is dating an older man and they decide that he needs to be taught a lesson for taking "advantage" of her. (they jump him 😭,, dont worry he fights back!)

------------------------------------------------

wc: 828

cw: age gap (reader is in her mid 20s, hotch is in his mid 40s), violence implied

------------------------------------------------

inspired by seeing hotch in s4ep1 all bloodied

you get a text early in the day from your brothers in your siblings group chat about how they know what who you have been doing and that they'll take care of it (!!!! ????) you don't actually see the message until its far too late and so you decide that you'll deal with your brothers later. now fully panicking, you call aaron's phone (with no response... smh) and drop everything to head to his place.

you let yourself in with your key and frantically look around for him in different rooms, finally finding aaron in his bathroom using a first aid kit to clean up his cuts and bruises. rushing over to him, your heart breaks seeing your man bleeding all over his bathroom sink.

you feel the rage swelling up in your body thinking about how this is the most moronic thing your brutish brothers have ever done. "oh my god. i can't believe they did this to you. i am actually going to kill them." you take over for aaron and start wiping away the blood from his brow, rougher than you intend to. he sucks in and winces under the pressure and you pull back slightly whispering a quiet "sorry" before continuing your motions, gentler this time around.

"This is not exactly how I imagined meeting your family would be like," he says pulling you in between him and the sink, "but I guess this was just the first meeting with the welcoming committee."

a wicked smile gradually lays hold over his face as you stop your ministrations to study his expression. you narrow your eyes trying to read what is behind his mischievous look. "what did you do?" you ask, resting your hands against his chest.

"Well, they got their first hit." he turns his head to show his eye, quickly turning blue. "Which they only got because they took me by surprise. But they didn't get a chance to land a second one," his sly smile now breaking out into a full on grin.

puzzled, you tilt your head trying to understand what he means. you inspect the bruises on his fists and after seeing no actual cuts or scrapes, you realize that besides the black eye, none of the blood on him is actually his. now wising up to the actual facts of the situation, you shake your head with a breathless chuckle. "of course! and then what was the rest of this meeting like?" you lean your forehead against his chest and let out a heavy sigh, his hands rubbing calming circles on your back.

shrugging his shoulders, he goes on to explain, "I gave them the opportunity for us to talk like gentlemen. I attempted to explain to them that I love you and won't do anything to ever hurt you." he scrunches his nose to add, "But I think that just made them more upset."

feeling calmer now, you speak into the chest of the very gracious man before you, "baby, i am so SORRY for my brothers who are imbeciles with no home training." you look at him to vocalize the rest, "i will make sure they apologize to you even if I have to drag them to do it."

he leans down to give you soft and reassuring kiss. "Sweetheart, you don't have to apologize for them. I am sure that your brothers and I have come to an understanding. We should be all set to meet the rest of your family with no trouble."

pressing your forehead against his, you give him a faint smile and close your eyes. "they're actually so thickheaded. i'm not even that much younger than them to be considered their baby sister. it's just i'm the youngest of all my siblings. they've got it stuck in their head that they need to defend my honor," you drag out the last few words.

"I can appreciate what they were trying to do for you, sweetheart. It may have been the wrong approach but it's endearing that they care?" he asks sympathetically. "Can I assume they've done this before?"

your eyes shoot wide open as you snort. "no boy even got the chance to look at me in high school because of their reputation. i just can't believe they would do this as adults. but they're clearly still children."

"It's going to take a lot more to scare me away," he reassures you. "Especially, since I have no plan to ever let you go now that I've got you," he says as he brings your left hand up to press a tender kiss against your ring finger.

you watch him with a sparkle in your eye and flash him a bright smile. your face immediately drops as you groan, "they did all this and they think you're just my boyfriend."

"Now that I know who I am dealing with," he smirks at you, "we can tell them together that I am in fact your fiancé."

[revelboo]

God hi I know it SUPER isnt gonna happen like this obvs but I'm just imagining EIA Shockwave Staring at the Two Sparkbonds in the human and is like Quiet and somehow figures out the second is Megatron and he doesnt say SHIT and is just like "Uhhhh yeah. Human's fine. Soundwave, please stay back so we may talk" and Sounders just like "Mkay" and so Star and the human leave and stuff and Soundwave is like "Query: What is it that Shockwave wishes to tell me" and Shockwave is just like "Bestie idk how to say this but I think Lord Megatron is what the humans call a homewrecker." And Soundwave has to play. SO cool about everything.

🤣 Shockwave is just assuming the other bond is Soundwave’s and he just can’t understand the appeal- thinks they’re both deviants. I’ve started going back trying to add warnings to the first chapters of everything, so folks don’t get surprised if the run into my stories in the wilds of Tumblr

Psst psst @thegarageafterdark aka Storm is one of my writer buddies who convinced me to even consider Transformers smut back in the day and she’s started a Tumblr. She does fated mates Transformers stuff for Bayverse and G1

Everything Is Alright Pt 129

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Wincing as Shockwave just stares at you, you’re not about to admit the other bond is Megatron’s. Can’t imagine the Decepticon leader would want that to get out. And Soundwave rescues you by reaching out to run a servo affectionately against your cheek. Making Shockwave stare at him instead, antenna back. You’re pretty sure the scientist just thinks you’re all three a bunch of freaks at this point. If he realized Megatron was also involved, he’d probably literally blow a gasket. “If a spark was to form from a full bond-” Starscream begins and Shockwave growls.

• “Illogical,” Shockwave snarls, turning away with his scanner, studying the readings. Wings lifting in affront, Starscream growls back at the scientist. Not liking the other mech’s dismissive tone. “No sparks are possible with an organic,” Shockwave adds, tone almost angry. Like the very fact that he wanted to spark you is deviant. That he wants you is obscene. Tempting him to lash out at the bigger mech to defend you. Except you might get hurt if he does, worry for you chaining his temper. But it’s something he can’t forget or forgive even if they will need his skills eventually.

• Servo trembling where he’s got it against your cheek, Soundwave wants to take you from Starscream. Press his face against you to feel the beat of your heart, your warmth. Unable to really believe that he can have this without risking everything else he has. And the Seeker scowls at him when he gives in and cups his hands around you, lifting you close. “Little one.” Just needs to hold you, to ground himself in you, because he can repair that broken bond now without any guilt. Can really have everything.

• Gently pinned against his battle mask, you’re aware of the way Shockwave stiffens. Apparently not liking the display of affection. Or you. Pretty sure that he has some sort of issue with you in particular that you can’t figure out. Maybe he’s just xenophobic? And nobody has answered your ‘how long do Cybertronians live’ question which is beginning to worry you. There’s a niggling little worry in the back of your mind about that. Because you’d been in Star and Megatron’s memories and there’d been a lot to parse through, but no real concrete sense of time. Startling when Soundwave retracts his mask and brushes his mouth against your body, apparently not caring about Shockwave watching. Had he been really worried about how long humans live?

• Wings flicking as Soundwave rubs his face against you, venting softly, Starscream wants to be angry still about you and the communications officer. To resent that you love him, too. To ask who you love more even if he’s terrified of what your answer would be. Reminding himself that you’d chosen him. Bonded fully to him. No one can take that from him. “We got our answers,” he mutters, because as entertaining as watching the scientist’s obvious discomfort watching Soundwave is, he wants some quiet time with you. Wants to talk without Soundwave or Megatron listening in. Pretend it’s just you two like it had been back then when he was happiest. Figure out this new dynamic with the other two. His new Trine.

• Following Starscream out into the hall, he’s aware that he’s getting looks. That most of the Decepticons aren’t used to seeing his exposed face. Or it could be you as he nuzzles against your body to make you squirm with breathless little protests. And he stops short when the Seeker stops, wings lifting before Starscream starts laughing. Leaning, he looks down at Rumble and Frenzy and the little human they have in tow, Rumble’s arm around them. “Oh. Hi, boss,” Rumble says as Frenzy tries to pull the human into his arms. Head lifting to stare at Thundercracker, the Seeker carrying plastic boxes full of stuff, his wings flaring like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. And you’re twisting to look too as the other human notices you and waves. “So, we need our own habsuite,” Rumble adds as Starscream keeps laughing.

Previous

[killinqpills]

★─── yandere sagau. ii

𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄.

𝕽𝗘𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗧 doesn't really go away at all. It's almost like a stain against our skin, and the longer you leave it to fester without wiping it away, the faster it'll seep into your bones. Until eventually, it drips onto your souls and becomes permanent, a haunting reminder of a tragedy you created for yourself.

"why did you do it?"

Venti asked without a thought or anger, an emotion he ironically feels like he's drowning in, but for some reason couldn't express. Perhaps it's because he realizes that he's already shattered, held together only by false hopes and endless what if's, bitterness might as well leave him scattered against the ground like ashes in the winds.

But he didn't know who to be angry at. The easiest answer would've been himself, but his cup of self loathing was already full to the brim, practically overflowing without a sense of direction.

Besides, the blame had always been easier to pin on someone else when we're reluctant to hate ourselves a little more. It's a small mercy we grant our hearts, the fleeting lie that we're still redeemable, with flaws and all.

Venti prays, no matter how selfish it would be, that you'd be returned to his undeserving hands once more, swearing on everything, that he'd cradle you gently this time.

What amusing thought, right? He, a god who his people once prayed to, now kneels on the grounds himself and begs for salvation. Like a lost lamb blindly searching for its shepherd whom it ran away from, desperate to make it back to them.

Back to you.

"why didn't you stop me?"

Zhongli asks him, just as dully.

A question for a question, because neither of them knew the answer to either one. Or perhaps they did, but the weight of the truth was simply far too heavy for them to carry.

He feels everything yet nothing at all.

That's a lie though, there's something unbearably ugly simmering at the very bottom of his heart, on the edge of boiling and spilling all over him like it did all those years ago; despair.

It felt just as heavy as it did when you first left.

Although at that time, you had left on your own, disappearing off of the face of teyvat while those who you've left behind scrambled to keep you alive through their own means. Endless tales were woven through the silks of history, and everyone made sure it'd remain to be one of the few things left unaltered by time.

And now you're gone once more, away and out of his reach and there he was, begging for you to return despite being the one to cause it.

Zhongli might've been many things, but he was not made to be gentle.

He was sharp and pointed to every edge, and although time had done its job to soften his jagged thorns, blades that are blunt and rusted tend to hurt the most.

He's nicked you more than enough times in the past, as the young, prideful god he was, stubborn and violent. Unused to your gentleness in a world that seemed to thrive in conflict, yet still so enraptured of the way you brush off the sting so easily, letting him close despite it all, over and over again.

"I miss them." Venti utters, no more than whisper, something you could almost disregard as a small gush of wind in the night. But the quiet confession would be the loudest thing Zhongli would ever hear in his decades of living.

Grunting, Zhongli looks away, eyes unreadable as he gazes blankly at the sorry excuse of a land that's been left to spread after the false creators death.

. . .

A violet cry was heard behind him, as violent as the winds became as Venti raised a weapon against the creator.

Gasping, Furina watched horrified as an arrow fused with anemo flew through the air with an almost violent whistling sound, then, a body slumps.

The grating laughter that once infested her ears now is nothing more but a deafening silence, like waiting for the inevitable worst to come, but being unsure of what exactly it is.

"You─.." Ei muttered, stunned.

There, sitting on a golden throne like a looming shadow, once the oddity which called itself the creator, was now nothing more than a corpse with an arrow embedded in their chest. Dark, thick and almost obsidian colored blood oozing out from their wound.

Then, panic struck.

"We.. we've committed a grave sin!"

Once the unnamed man shouted such words, the archons watched as their people scrambled to leave, pushing against the other and screaming their heads off in hysteria.

At lost for words, they could do nothing more but try and fail to calm them down with gestures and soundless pleas because their words simply get lost in a sea of anguished cries.

"T─this can't be!"

"The creator will punish us!"

"No─ no! I did not even want to be a part of this!"

"Please, I don't want to die!"

At that moment, something catches Xiao's eye. Turning his head to the throne, he observes as the corpse bloats ever so slightly, skin rippling as if something wretched was wiggling beneath it, attempting to pierce through the skin, as though it was about to:

"Explode." He gasps in realization.

When a god dies, their divine power is released back into the world, often causing significant environmental changes and disruptions, while their consciousness fades away, effectively marking their death.

"Get away from the throne─!"

His shout echoes above all other voices, effectively catching the other's attention. But by then it was already too late, in horror he watches as the body erupts, causing him to close his eyes on instinct despite knowing that doing so wouldn't shield him from the impact.

...

Zhongli closes his fist, it trembles slightly, aching ever so slightly from overexerting himself to create a shield large enough to prevent anyone it can reach from being exposed to the utter chaos he sees now.

A large patch of land now lay wasted, covered in a dark substance that looks as though it's spreading ever so slightly, like water that spills without end.

Clearly, not everyone had managed to avoid being hit by it. Bodies upon bodies lay in the substance, looking almost as though they're melting into it in a sick and twisted way. The false creators final display of possession over something that was never theirs in the first place.

Your body was in there too.

Swallowing vile down his throat was no easy task this time.

Xiao, who barely managed to escape, stands beside him, head titled down and unable to look at anything or anyone without being overwhelmed with shame and guilt.

Zhongli could not bring himself to comfort him this time, for they're simple two souls drowning in grief, he's unable to keep the other afloat without the threat of being submerged himself. All he could offer now, was a silent apology.

"Is there no way to get rid of it?"

Ei asks, coming up beside them with Yae following suit, the pair walking in sync with heavy expressions on their faces. Venti shrugs, almost bored, but they knew not to take it as that, for this was the bard expressing defeat.

"Let's just hope we find a solution, before it gets rid of us."

He says casually, looking back towards the wreckage, the others following in suit. They watch anxiously as the substance spreads, looking as though it was trying to devour everything in its path, vile and unforgiving, things you never were.

For a moment, Zhongli wonders what would've happened had you not descended as quietly as you did in your mortal body. But unlike Venti, Zhongli was not content with settling on endless what─if's.

Shuffling, Yae notes the way the grass beneath her feet seemed rotten, dried and dead as though they're no longer able to rise with life. Actually, looking around, she realizes that everything seemed awfully.. dead.

Everything looked gloomy, the air was cold and lacked sunlight, the trees wilted and some if not most had already fallen, not a single animal in sight, not even a soft chirp from a distant bird, or a cricket from an insect to be heard.

"At this rate, it doesn't seem like we'll be able to live long enough to see that."

She sighs grimly, and with a quick look around, nobody else could find it in themselves to argue otherwise.

From afar, paimon worriedly gazes at her surroundings, feeling utterly helpless at the outcome of mankind's greatest mistake. Her heart aches as her eyes darts from one place to another, not liking the way everything just seems so devoid of life.

Aether stands near her, observing as well, but instead of despair like many others, his stare was contemplative.

Things have been rather difficult for the last few days, the citizens briefly exposed from the dark substance began falling ill one after the other, and although food and medicine had yet to become scarce, with the rate of natural life beginning to dwindle all across teyvat, everyone knows it'll just be a matter of time before everything starts going downhill.

Not like it hasn't already, though.

"Is. . . is this really it?"

Paimon's voice quivers, tears welling up in her eyes as she floats closer to the traveler for comfort.

Is this how it's gonna end?

There's an unsettling silence that engulfs them for a moment.

"No."

Startled by his sudden words, or rather, word. Paimon whips her head towards Aether, stunned and equally confused at his seemingly unwavering resolve.

"wha─ what do you mean?" She asks hesitantly.

For a moment, Aether refused to answer, perhaps too caught up in his own inner thoughts which were a mess of indecipherable words and unsure possibilities. But then, he opens his mouth.

"A god who willingly died at the hands of their own creation─"

He pauses.

"Do you truly think that such a person who loves more than anything, would allow this to happen?"

Conflict struck Paimon and she feels a sinking pit at the bottom of her stomach. Defeated and ashamed, she lowers her tearful gaze to the ground.

"No, but that kind of mercy.." Her voice trembles, struggling to let the words fall from her tongue.

Aether turns to look at her, a look of grim understanding that she shares being passed between their gazes.

"It's not something we deserve."

Your love, the kindness that flows through your veins, the warmth in your eyes, the pureness of your heart, your nature which remains merciful.

All of which we are undeserving of.

The truth had never tasted so bitter in Aether's tongue before. Somewhere, deep─ deep down, he hopes you are truly dead.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 :

Woah?? my lazy ass actually made a part 2? surprise.

Anyways this is a lot shorter than I would've liked it to be, but honestly I'm at lost on what to write. Thanks to those who reblogged / commented and stuff, it was a great source of motivation.

Stay tuned for more (maybe)

Taglist : @n0tmentallystable @iris-arcadia @starboye @sims-4lifers

[intersexwiki]

Rest of post for archival purposes

WHAT THE BOOK DOESN’T HANDLE WELL

The body descriptions. As Dmitri put it: “ Like "his butt jiggled and it reminded  me of women" ew. It was intentional but I had to put the book down. It reminded me of transvestigators and how they take pictures of people in public.” 🤮

Not pushing Genly to reflect on how weird he is about other people’s bodies. We all had issues with how Genly is constantly scrutinizing the bodies of other humans to assess their gender(s) and it’s pretty gross.

vic asked: “how much of this is her reproducing violence without her knowing it? A thing I didn't like was how he always judging and analyzing people's bodies and realizing others treat him that way. And I wish there was more of his discomfort about this, that it made him feel icky.”

Dimitri added: “I really wanted him to have a moment of this too, for him to realize how much it sucks to be treated this way. As a trans person it's so uncomfortable. What are you doing going around doing this to people?”

Using male pronouns as default/ungendered pronouns. Élaina asked why Genly thinks a male pronoun is more appropriate for a transcendent God and pointed out there’s a lot to unpack there.

OTHER POSITIVES ABOUT THE BOOK

Genly’s journey towards respecting women, that he still had a ways to go by the end of the book. vic pointed out how “LeGuin was straight, and she loves men, and is kinda giving them the side-eye [in this book]. Her writing about how Genly is childish makes me really happy. It’s kind of hilarious to watch him bang his head against the wall because he’s so rigid.” 

To which Dmitri added: “I agree with the bit on forgiving men for stuff. I don't know how she [LeGuin] does it but she really lays it all out. She gives you a platter of how men are bad at things, how they make mistakes that are pretty specific to them. She has prepared a buffet of it.”

Autistic Estraven! As Michelle put it: “autistic queer feels about Estraven speaking literally and plainly and Genly not getting it”

The truck chapter. Hits like a pile of bricks. We talked about it as a metaphor for the current pandemic.

The Genly x Estraven slowburn queerplatonic relationship

The conlang! Less is more in how it gets used

MIXED REACTIONS

The Foretelling. For some it felt unnecessary and a bit fetishy. For others it was fun paranormal times.

Pacing. Some liked how the book really forces you to really contemplate as you go. Others struggled with a pace that feels very slow to 2023 readers.

WORKS WE COMPARED THE BOOK TO

Star Trek (the original series) - we wondered if LHOD and Genly Ai were progressive by 1960s standards, and TOS came up as a comparison point. We were all of the impression that TOS was progressive for its time but all of us find it pretty misogynist by our standards. The interest in extra-sensory perception (ESP) is something that was a staple of TOS that feels very strange to contemporary viewers and also cropped up in LHOD

Ancillary Justice - for being a book where characters’ genders are all ambiguous but the POV character is actually normal about how they describe other characters’ bodies.

The Deep - for being another book in a situation where being able to reproduce as male and female is the norm. The Deep was written by an actually intersex author, and doesn’t have the cisperisex gaze of scrutinizing every body for sex. But oddly LHOD actually winds up feeling more like a book about intersex people, because it features a character who is the odd one out in a gonosynic society. In contrast, nobody is intersex in the Deep - everybody matches the norms for their species, which makes the intersex themes in the work much more subtle.

Overall, as vic put it, “there's something to be said about an honest depiction that's not great, especially when there's no alternatives”. For a long time there weren’t many other games in town when it came to this sort of book, and even though some things now feel dated, it’s still a valuable read. We’d love to see more intersex reviews & analyses of the book!

Discussion summary: Left Hand of Darkness

Published in 1969, The Left Hand of Darkness is a classic in science fiction that explores issues of sex/gender in an alien-yet-human society where the aliens are just like us except in how they reproduce. These aliens, the Gethenians, can reproduce as either male or female. They spend most of their lives sexually undifferentiated. Once a month, they go into heat (“kemmer”) and their sexual organs activate as either male or female (it’s essentially random).

Here's a summary of the discussions we had on 2023-08-25 and 2023-09-01 about the book:

HIGH LEVEL REACTONS

Michelle (@scifimagpie): even though it was written by a cis straight perisex woman there is a queerness to the writing that feels true and that she nailed. There is a queerness to the soul of this book that still holds up, that's true and good, and I cannot but love and respect that.

Elizabeth (@ipso-faculty): this book is such a commentary on 1960s misogyny. Genly is a raging misogynist. It takes a whole prison break and crossing the arctic for Genly to realize a woman or androgyne can be competent 👀

Dimitri: [Having read just the first half of the book] I wonder if it keeps happening, if Genly keeps going "woaaaah" [to the Gethenians’ androgyny] or if he ever acclimates. It's been half the novel my guy

vic: yeah a book where a guy is destroyed by seeing a breast makes me want queer theory

vic: [it also] makes me feel good to see how much has changed [since the 1960s]

THE INTERSEX STUFF

A thing we appreciated about the book was how being intersex is contextual. The main character of the book, Genly Ai, is a human from a planet like Earth, who visits Gethen to open trade and diplomatic relations.

On his home planet, and to Earth sensibilities, Genly is perisex - he is able to reproduce at any time of the month and is consistently male.

But on Gethen, Genly becomes intersex. On Gethen, the norm is that you only manifest (and can reproduce as) a given sex during the monthly kemmer (heat/oestrus) period. 

The Gethenians understand Genly as living in “permanent kemmer”, which is described as a common (intersex) condition, and these people are hyper-sexualized and referred to as Perverts.

At this point it’s worth noting that depiction is not the same as endorsement. Michelle pointed out the book is very empathetic to those in permanent kemmer. LeGuin does not appear to be endorsing the social stigma faced by these people, merely depicting it, and putting a mirror to how our own society treats intersex people.

Throughout the book, Genly is treated as an oddity by the Gethenians. He is hyper sexualized. He undergoes a genital inspection to prove he is who he says he is. 

When Genly is sent to a prison camp and forcibly given HRT, he does not respond “normally” to the hormones, the effects are way worse for him, and the prison camp staff don’t care, and keep administering them even if it’ll kill him. 

Two of us have had the experience of having hyperandrogenism and being forced onto birth control as teenager, and relating to the sluggishness of the drugs that Genly experienced, as well as the sense that gender/sex conformity was more important to authority figures (parents, doctors) than actual health and well-being.

Another scene we discussed the one where Genly is in a prison van en route to the gulag, and a Gethenian enters kemmer and wants to mate with him and he declines. He is given multiple opportunities over the course of the book to try having sex with a Gethenian, and declines every time, and we wondered if he avoided it out of trauma of being hyper-sexualized & hyper-medicalized & having had his genitals inspected.

We discussed the way he described his genital inspection through a trauma lens, and how it interacts with toxic masculinity - in vic’s terms, Genly being "I am a manly man and I have don't trauma"

Those of us who read the short story, Coming of Age in Karhide, noted that once the world was narrated from a Gethenian POV, the people in permanent kemmer were treated far more neutrally, which gave us the impression that Genly as an unreliable narrator was injecting some intersexism along with his misogyny

WHY IT MATTERS TO READ THIS BOOK THROUGH AN INTERSEX LENS

Elizabeth: I’ve encountered critiques of this book from perisex trans folks because to them the book is committing biological essentialism, and dismissing the book as a result. I think they’re missing that this book is as much about (inter)sex as it is about gender. I think they’re too quick to dismiss the book as being outdated or having backwards ideas because they’re not appreciating the intersex themes. 

Elizabeth: The intersex themes aren’t exactly subtle, so it kind of stings that I haven’t seen any intersex analyses of this book, but there are dozens (hundreds?) of perisex trans analyses that all miss the huge intersex elephants in the room.

Also Elizabeth: I’ve seen this book show up in lists of intersex books/characters made by perisex people, and I’ve seen Estraven listed as intersex character, and it gets me upset because Estraven isn’t intersex! Estraven is perisex in the society in which he lives. Genly is the intersex character in this story and people who misunderstand intersex as being able to reproduce as male & female (or having quirky genitals smh) are completely missing that being intersex is socially constructed and based on what is considered typical for a given species.

WHAT THE BOOK DOESN’T HANDLE WELL

The body descriptions. As Dmitri put it: “ Like "his butt jiggled and it reminded  me of women" ew. It was intentional but I had to put the book down. It reminded me of transvestigators and how they take pictures of people in public.” 🤮

Not pushing Genly to reflect on how weird he is about other people’s bodies. We all had issues with how Genly is constantly scrutinizing the bodies of other humans to assess their gender(s) and it’s pretty gross.

vic asked: “how much of this is her reproducing violence without her knowing it? A thing I didn't like was how he always judging and analyzing people's bodies and realizing others treat him that way. And I wish there was more of his discomfort about this, that it made him feel icky.”

Dimitri added: “I really wanted him to have a moment of this too, for him to realize how much it sucks to be treated this way. As a trans person it's so uncomfortable. What are you doing going around doing this to people?”

Using male pronouns as default/ungendered pronouns. Élaina asked why Genly thinks a male pronoun is more appropriate for a transcendent God and pointed out there’s a lot to unpack there.

OTHER POSITIVES ABOUT THE BOOK

Genly’s journey towards respecting women, that he still had a ways to go by the end of the book. vic pointed out how “LeGuin was straight, and she loves men, and is kinda giving them the side-eye [in this book]. Her writing about how Genly is childish makes me really happy. It’s kind of hilarious to watch him bang his head against the wall because he’s so rigid.” 

To which Dmitri added: “I agree with the bit on forgiving men for stuff. I don't know how she [LeGuin] does it but she really lays it all out. She gives you a platter of how men are bad at things, how they make mistakes that are pretty specific to them. She has prepared a buffet of it.”

Autistic Estraven! As Michelle put it: “autistic queer feels about Estraven speaking literally and plainly and Genly not getting it”

The truck chapter. Hits like a pile of bricks. We talked about it as a metaphor for the current pandemic.

The Genly x Estraven slowburn queerplatonic relationship

The conlang! Less is more in how it gets used

MIXED REACTIONS

The Foretelling. For some it felt unnecessary and a bit fetishy. For others it was fun paranormal times.

Pacing. Some liked how the book really forces you to really contemplate as you go. Others struggled with a pace that feels very slow to 2023 readers.

WORKS WE COMPARED THE BOOK TO

Star Trek (the original series) - we wondered if LHOD and Genly Ai were progressive by 1960s standards, and TOS came up as a comparison point. We were all of the impression that TOS was progressive for its time but all of us find it pretty misogynist by our standards. The interest in extra-sensory perception (ESP) is something that was a staple of TOS that feels very strange to contemporary viewers and also cropped up in LHOD

Ancillary Justice - for being a book where characters’ genders are all ambiguous but the POV character is actually normal about how they describe other characters’ bodies.

The Deep - for being another book in a situation where being able to reproduce as male and female is the norm. The Deep was written by an actually intersex author, and doesn’t have the cisperisex gaze of scrutinizing every body for sex. But oddly LHOD actually winds up feeling more like a book about intersex people, because it features a character who is the odd one out in a gonosynic society. In contrast, nobody is intersex in the Deep - everybody matches the norms for their species, which makes the intersex themes in the work much more subtle.

Overall, as vic put it, “there's something to be said about an honest depiction that's not great, especially when there's no alternatives”. For a long time there weren’t many other games in town when it came to this sort of book, and even though some things now feel dated, it’s still a valuable read. We’d love to see more intersex reviews & analyses of the book!

[cookie-lore-keeper]

is that so? you seem to know quite a bit about him, especially when it regards him being obsessed with pure vanilla. why do you think that is?

-🥛

Oh my gods, do I get to list my reasons? Thank you so much for asking this, Milk Anon!

Why Shadow Milk Cookie is so obsessed with Pure Vanilla Cookie

We're all aware of Shadow Milk Cookie's whole weird thing with Pure Vanilla Cookie, right? He hates him so much, but he's completely obsessed with him. He wants to torture this man and tear him down and prove to him that they are two sides of the same coin. That they are each other's other halves.

But why? Why is he so obsessed with this Cookie? Surely there's more to it than just their souljams.

He sees himself in Pure Vanilla Cookie

(Notice how he's looking at Pure Vanilla Cookie's eyes; not the Souljam)

I think that Shadow Milk Cookie is telling the truth when he says that he and Vanilly are each other's other halves. Just like Pure Vanilla Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie was worshipped for being a being of Truth and knowledge. Just like Pure Vanilla Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie wished to seek the truth and help all cookies. But, unlike Vanilly, that truth corrupted Shmilk.

As of now, I think that Shadow Milk Cookie went through the same thing that Pure Vanilla Cookie is currently going through. He's doubting himself. He has gained so much knowledge and that knowledge had crumbled the world around him. So what did he do? He turned to Deceit. With deceit and lies, he can finally control the narrative, as he is the one creating these false truths. And, he can also lie to himself, and have control over the parts of himself that he can't.

Now, compare this to Pure Vanilla Cookie. He is now the holder of his (Shadow Milk's) Souljam. He is being worshipped as a hero, just like Shadow Milk Cookie. He is being worshipped as a being of Truth, just like Shadow Milk Cookie. And Shadow Milk Cookie can't stand that, for whatever reason. For one, that's his souljam that the witches took away. But, it's also more than that. Whether it's him not being able to see what he could've been if he had just hadn't fallen into the sweet freedom of lying, or if he just wants to quicken the path he thinks Pure Vanilla Cookienis destined to go in, or Hell, it might even just be the need to corrupt this hero just because it feels good, he doesn't want him to be that hero anymore. He wants to see him crash and burn and become just like him ('him' Shadow Milk Cookie).

He is projecting onto Pure Vanilla Cookie

For just a moment, we see a look on Shadow Milk Cookie that resembles... something. Guilt? Regret? Whatever it is, it's worth noting. And he doesn't like it, so he has to crush it.

It goes back to Shadow Milk Cookie wanting to control the narrative. By lying, he controls everything. He controls the false realities he's built. But something broke through that for just a moment, and right after, he tries to crush Pure Vanilla Cookie.

This post explained it well.

He has the slight guilt of making Pure Vanilla Cookie suffer so he could understand what he went through as the Fount of Knowledge. Not to mention the PROJECTING. He literally made Pure Vanilla Cookie dress up as his pre-corrupted self.

Him and Pure Vanilla Cookie are truly each other's other halves, but Shadow Milk Cookie is realizing that that means ye has to deal with parts of himself that he doesn't like. And he needs to crush that.

Tldr; Shmilk is obsessed with Silly Vanilly bcuz he sees himself in him, which makes him project onto Silly Vanilly.

[ribbonsncherries]

The Contract

Warnings: Lots of smut, P in V, Oral (both m and f receiving), BDSM!, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Angst, Alcohol mentions, Dominant and submissive plot, Drug Mentions, Virgin user, mentions of drugs.

Chapter 3

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x inexperienced! User

Summary: When her roommate and work partner gets sick, she is in charge of interviewing famous billionaire businessman Dean Winchester for his new bar's grand opening which leads to a passionate and tumultuous affair where she discovers his dark sexual desires, marked by control and dominance. The one catch? He doesn't do romance.

Based on the trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey.

(4500 words)

Divider credits: @dollywons, @anitalenia, @selysie

The next morning, (y/n) woke up to the sun brushing through the curtains. The sounds of the city burst through the walls. She groaned in pain from the massive hangover that she was stuck with. She turned around in bed to see herself in a hotel room. She doesn’t know where she is, which immediately makes her panic. She sat up and brushed her hair away. She looked on the bedside table to see some Tylenol and orange juice waiting for her with the notes beside them that said “Eat me” and “Drink me.” She took the pill and began chugging the orange juice from wanting something more than alcohol in her system. While chugging the juice, she heard a keypad sound from a short distance, almost as if someone was trying to get in. She got up from the bed and grabbed a vase. Lo and behold, Dean Winchester shows up with takeout boxes in his hand in a casual black tee and jeans. “Good morning (y/n).” He said casually. “It’s you? she asked, still holding the vase. He approached her slowly, “Surprised?” he said with a smirk, “How are you feeling?” He asked, his hand wrapped around her wrist. He brought down the arm that had the expensive vase. “What..?” she responded, still confused and intimidated by how close he was to her. She had to look up at him from how tall he was, his broad shoulders seemed to look down upon her. 

“I asked how you’re feelin’ sweetheart,” he asked once more. (y/n) nodded, “A lot better thanks…” She carefully snuck past him and sat down on the bed; she realized her clothes were much different, Her clothes she was wearing yesterday were carefully folded on a chair. She looked down again and saw she was wearing a regular white shirt that was a little too big for her, and when she realized she had no pants, she immediately covered herself with the sheets. “Did you put me in here?” she asked, looking around towards him. She saw him with the takeout box and fork; he started chewing on some bacon and eggs. “Mm-hmm.” he hummed. Dean sat down on a small sofa next to the bed, he began taking a clean fork and put down some toast and eggs on a new plate. “And you undressed me?” she asked confused.

Dean looked up at her while still chewing, “Didn’t have much of a choice, darlin’ it was either that or puke-stained jeans and shirt.” he said. (y/n) immediately had her hands over her mouth in shock. “Oh my god…” she mumbled to herself. Dean then got up from the sofa and carried a plate to her; he placed it on her covered lap, along with a fork and napkins. He sat down on the sofa and continued eating like nothing. (y/n) looked around the hotel room and saw she was in the only bed, and the sofa he was on was way too small to fit anyone. “Where did you sleep?” she asked. Dean gestured his hand next to her; she saw a messy side next to her with the blankets messed up. “Oh god did we…?” she trailed along. Dean immediately shook his head, 

“No, Necrophillia's not my thing,” he said immediately. (y/n) took a deep breath, “So we just slept…got it.”  (y/n) awkwardly saw the plate of toast and eggs on her lap and picked up the toast Dean got up and went to a different room, he came back a few seconds later with a fresh clean folded clothes, “I asked Benny to bring you some new clothes,” he stated putting them next to her on the bed. “Thank you, you didn’t really have to do that,” she said quietly. She continued eating her toast slowly with a slight hesitation. “I did, you shouldn’t have drank like that in the first place,” he grumbled. Dean began drinking his cup of orange juice when some had spilled onto his shirt. “Shit,” he mumbled, he took off his black shirt leaving (y/n) a whole view of his chiseled toned chest with a unique tattoo. “W-well, I like to test my limits when it comes to alcohol,” she said chewing on her toast. 

His eyes roamed at her with a grumble, “Test your limits…you put yourself at risk last night.” He said. He began to place his hands on the bed and began slowly making his way toward her, almost like a lion reaching for a lamb. “I know…” (y/n) said softly, mesmerized by Dean, she couldn’t move or get away, it was like she was trapped. Softly in a low tone, he said, “If you were mine, you would be able to move from the bed, let alone walk…” he got closer and closer to her. “Huh?” she said quietly, not knowing what to say. Dean leaned lower to her hand and bit the rest of the toast off, he looked up at her and held her hand, then began sucking the powder off her fingers slowly. Her breath hitched, and she immediately tried hiding the fact her thighs were clenched together.

He looked down at her with his piercing green eyes. “I’m gonna go take a nice shower, don’t wait up,” he said before getting up from the bed and gathering his clothes. (y/n) let out a long breath before turning her head towards him. “Dean, why did you bring me here?” she asked. He came out of the other room and looked at her, “You’re here because I’m incapable of leaving you alone.” she looked up at him up and down, “Then don’t…you didn’t want me with you anyways, why did you send me that album and shawl anyways? Pity or something?” she asked. Dean came closer to her “I thought because of the way I acted towards you I owed you an apology.” 

“For what,” she stated. Dean sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. “For letting you believe that…” he took a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t do romance, I don’t do the hand holding, movies, dinner.” “Why?” she questioned. “My tastes are very particular; you wouldn’t understand if I told you,” he said. “Try me. Enlighten me for all I care,” was all she could say. Dean brushed his rough hand on her cheek and then to her lips. Her eyes try to mimic the stare he gives him. 

After a few hours, Dean had already showered and was in fresh, new, casual clothes. (y/n) came out of the bathroom in the clothing that Benny had picked out. “Tell your friend he’s got good taste,” she said. She looked forward to seeing Dean writing some stuff down in his notebook. (y/n) gathered her clothes while Dean stood up and leaned on the desk. “What are you doing later, darlin’?” he asked. “Well, I have to go to my job till either 8 or 9, but besides that, nothing. Why?” she asked. Dean could only look her up and down. “I’ll have Benny pick you up,” he said. He came a little closer to her and softly touched her hair down to her lips. “The way I kill a million monsters to be able to kiss those lips,” he said. (y/n) looked up and stood still “I think I would like that too.” she said softly. Dean backed his hand away “I’m not going to touch you…at least not until I have your written consent.” he said. She tilted her head (y/n). “Written?” she asked, confused. “I’ll explain later, cmon let's get you home,” he said to her. 

As they both got on the elevator, (y/n) backed up to the back of the elevator while Dean stood beside her, “fuck the contract.” he said before immediately beginning to roughly kiss (y/n). Her hands were on his shoulders, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her while his other hand was down to her waist. Just as (y/n) was about to softly release a moan, the ting of the elevator alerted them. They both got away from each other and acted like nothing happened. (y/n) released a few short breaths and calmly combed her hair with her fingers before the door opened to businessmen. Dean looked down at her and smirked. 

When (y/n) and Dean got to her apartment, (y/n) heard music coming from inside. As she opened the door, they both widened their eyes to see Sam and Jessica halfway naked on the couch. Sam and Jessica immediately looked up from the couch. (y/n) turned her head to look away. “Samuel you dog, he had a good time last night. Clearly.” Dean said to (y/n), who was still looking away. “Dean shut it,” Sam said, picking up his pants. Jessica laughed as she looked at the situation. “Hey, you must be (y/n),” Sam said, holding his hand for (y/n) to shake. She awkwardly shook it “Nice to meet you.” she said. “Yeah, sorry for meeting me like this. I got a little sidetracked,” he said looking over at Jessica. (y/n) smiled “Oh no, it’s ok.” 

“Sammy, find your shoes, and let's get goin'.” Sam and Jessica had one more goodbye kiss before telling her, “Later, darlin’.” Sam then walked away from her to leave the apartment. “I’ll make sure to email you if anything comes up. You can also email me whenever you want to. I’ll see you tonight,” Dean said. (y/n) took a deep breath “My computer is acting weird; I can’t use it.” she said. “Alright, you have my number. Call me whenever you can. Later, darlin’,” he said, mimicking Sam, he then left the apartment and closed the door. “So Sam seems like a nice guy.” (y/n) giggled. 

“Nooo, don’t even start with that. If you’re seeing him again that means something must’ve happened.” Jessica teased. (y/n) could only sigh and walk slowly to her room tossing her house keys to the small bowl where Jessica’s were. “(y/n) you have to tell me what happened!” She squealed. “We have to get ready for work Jess!” she ignored the questions and kept going. “No, no, no, (y/n), I’m your best friend even if it’s TMI, just spill.” she encouraged. (y/n) smiled “You really wanna know?” Jessica nodded excitedly expecting (y/n) to say they had sex when in reality she said “We just kissed.” She nodded expecting more to come out of her. “Uh huh and then.”

“And then what? That was it,” she said. “That’s it?! Only once?! That's super weird.” (y/n) could only hum a yes. She began walking down the small hallway, “And I can tell that’s a new shirt, You never dress in those colors.” she said. 

(y/n) was typing away once again, focusing sternly on her computer, Jenna her secretary came in with a smile. “Hey (y/n), I made some lunch for myself last night and accidentally made too much. Thought you might want some, it’s your favorite.” she smiled. (y/n) took the container from her hands. “Thanks, Jen.” Before Jenna was about to leave she remembered something, “Oh I almost forgot your mom sent messages.” Jenna began going through the small sheets of paper. “She said ‘(y/n) I hope you’re doing well, Richard and I miss you and we came to tell you that Flora is graduating middle school in June and we would like you to come to the graduation party. Hugs and Kisses Mom and Richard.” (y/n)’s face scrunched, “As much as I love Flora’m not sure how to feel about the step monster” she giggled.

Jenna looked at her with her eyebrow up. “(y/n) I’m saying this as a friend, man up, I get it Richard kicked you out and your mom never defended you but your sister is 13, she needs her older sister, especially at that age, facetime, and text messaging isn’t enough. Besides you’re a badass editor and journalist for the biggest fashion magazine in the nation.” (y/n) smirked and nodded, “You’re right, I just hated that guy with every bone in my body since I was 16.” she said. “Any other messages Jen?” she asked. “Yes, another from Mr. Winchester.” (y/n)’s eyes widened as she got up, closed the door to her office, and dragged Jenna to her desk to sit down. “What did he say?” she asked. Jenna still a little surprised gave (y/n) the paper to which he wrote down the message. 

Hello, Ms. (l/n). I wanted to follow up regarding the agenda we discussed during our last meeting. As we agreed, it’s crucial to ensure we stay on track with the upcoming deliverables. I’ve attached the updated project plan, which includes all the necessary timelines and responsibilities.

Let me know if there’s anything else you need from my side before we proceed.

Best regards, Dean Winchester.

“Everything ok (y/n)?” asked Jenna. “Me? Oh yeah yeah, I’m fine. Is that all the messages?” she asked. Jenna nodded rapidly and got up from the chair to the door, “Thanks for lunch by the way.” (y/n) said. “Anytime.” (y/n) looked at the small sheet of paper and smiled. 

When she got out of work, Benny was standing next to a black car with tinted windows. (y/n) smiled and walked up to him, “Hi, Benny. Where’s Dean?” she asked. “He will be meeting us at your destination,” he said as he opened the car door. She climbed inside before saying thank you. As they made their way to a corporate office building Benny helped her out as he led her to an elevator. (y/n) ran her fingers through her hair in nervousness. As they reached the top her eyes widened when she saw a helicopter but no Dean. “I thought he was meeting us at our destination.” asked (y/n). As they began walking towards the helicopter Benny leaned a little to her ear and whispered “Don’t tell him I said this but Mr. Winchester is a bit of a wimp when it comes to flying.” He said. (y/n) looked up to him and smirked. “Do you know where I’m going?” she asked him. “You’ll see.” he sighed. (y/n) was being helped by the pilot to buckle in and adjust the headset on her head.

As they flew she was amazed by the sights of the city. The beautiful lights and buildings that look like they are coming up at her. When they landed there he was, Dean, was wearing a casual-looking tux with a white dress shirt with a regular black blazer. When the Helicopter had stopped the engine Dean went up to the doors and saw (y/n) coming down the helicopter, he took her hand as he led her downstairs. 

She walked down a dim hallway into a penthouse. Her steps are the only sound echoing along the room. Dean separated from her and went to a wine cellar only a few meters away. (y/n) curiously let herself wander around. She saw rows of guitars, some electric, and lots of acoustic. She ran her fingers softly along the strings. “You play a lot?” she asked turning towards him, he had wine glasses and a bottle of a newly unopened wine. “Yes, I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember,” he said. He placed the two wine glasses down on a glass table. But when she saw him opening and pouring the wine, there were sheets of paper gathered in a single spot on the table, curiosity took over and she came up to him slowly. “What’s this?” she asked. “It’s a nondisclosure agreement,” he said as he finished pouring the wine and sat down next to her at the head of the table. “To summarize it that means you can’t tell anyone anything about us. To anyone.” (y/n) looked up at him as she clicked the pen. “I don’t say anything other than ‘he was alright.” Her eyes looked into his for a quick moment before the sounds of the pen scratching the paper were lilting to their ears. She set the pen down and looked at him “What now..?” she asked softly.

She was still nervous, afraid to say something wrong that might upset him and kick her out. He leaned forward towards her and told her “Two things, I don’t make love…second I make pleasure, I fuck hard and rough to a point you won’t know your name and can only scream out mine.” she swallowed and let out a soft breath, all she could do was nod and look at him. He got up from the seat and offered his hand for her to take. “I’ll show you,” he said. (y/n) looked at his hand for a quick moment before taking it. He led her down the long hallway before stopping at a door. He looks at her and says “It’s important to know you can leave at any time and the both of will never talk of this again.” He said. (y/n) was confused for a moment, “What’s in there?” she asked. “I said I control people, I like it when people do my bidding, what's beyond here, lies upon that statement. Just know the helicopter is on standby to take you whenever you want to go.” 

“I can handle it, Dean open the door,” she said sternly. Dean looked into her eyes for a quick moment making sure she was serious, he took a deep breath before inserting a key into the door and turning it for the door to unlock. When he opened the door and stepped inside she was surrounded by darkness before he turned on the lights. The room was red and dim like his bars but inside lay toys..sex toys. “Oh my god,” she said under her breath. There wasn’t your typical dildo or vibrator. More like whips, buckles, and handcuffs, As she began walking around her eyes ran along the red room, or ‘playroom’ as Dean likes to call it. “Please, say something,” Dean said. She stopped at a row of whips lined along the wall. “Do women do this to you or-”

“No, I do this to women,” he said in a low tone voice, “with women, women who want me to.” he clarified. She started making her way around as he followed right behind her. “So what are you?” she asked turning to him curiously. “I’m a dominant,” he said. “What does that even mean?” she asked.

“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, and follow everything I say, to please me,” he said. (y/n) scoffed in shock, “To please you? Are there rules for this or something?” she said sarcastically, her smile dropped when she saw Dean’s seriousness on his face. “There are rules. If you follow them I’ll reward you, if you don’t you get punished. Simple as that sweetheart.” he said. “So, you’ll punish me, with these?” she asked. Dean simply nodded “Yes.’’

She looked around for one more moment, “So what’s in it for me?” she asked. Dean smiled at her with a grin. “Me,” he said in a low rumble tone. As they got out of the room (y/n) was still concerned yet somehow excited. Dean took her hand as he led her to the back of the hallway he opened another door to a room with a queen-sized bed, a vanity, and a huge window. But she stopped at the record player sitting on the bedside table, it resembled the one her mother broke on purpose since it used to be her dad’s. “Now, if we were to do this…this would be your room, you can decorate it however you like.” She crossed her arms and looked at him “So..you want me to move in with you?” she asked.

Dean shook his head “No, not full-time, only Friday through Sunday. We can negotiate the particulars. You know I don’t sleep with anyone, So I won’t sleep with you, I’ll only be down the hall.” he said. He took her hand in his once more and led her downstairs back to the living room where they sat on a couch. “So what if I decide to back out?” she asked. “I would understand it completely, but as I said, we will never speak of this to anyone ever.” (y/n) looked at him and observed his face before looking back to his eyes, “And…we won’t talk to each other again?” she asked. “No, I don’t do relationships, I told you…It’s just the way I am,” he said. Dean sighed as he looked back at her “I have a contract prepared, it’s all in there, you would review it and we negotiate from there.” he said. 

“Well, what if I’m not sure what to pick?” 

“Well, was there a time you had sex with someone and there was anything that you didn’t like doing?” he asked. She could only clear her throat and looked away. “We have to be honest princess for this to work,” he said. For years (y/n) was a bit embarrassing for her to say she was a virgin. She's done stuff to herself and masturbated a few times but that was it. She's never had time for love and relationship until now. “Well, it’s a bit complicated cause…I” Dean tilted his head in curiosity. “Cause what?” She looked at him once more and said “I haven’t done..it.” she mumbled. Dean was taken aback, “You’re still a virgin?” I just showed you-” 

“I know. I just, I’ve..done some stuff just not that,” she said. Dean leaned in closer to her and took her cheek with his hand. “Men must throw themselves at you, sweetheart,” he said roughly. She looked into his eyes and all she could see was lust. “No one caught my eye,” she responded. Dean leaned forward and kissed her. She had no hesitation to kiss back, Before she knew it Dean helped her up and walked her to his room, “Where are we going?” she asked. 

“We are going to fix this problem.” 

“I’m a problem?” 

He led her to a dark room, it was a regular bedroom, and no sign of the toys in sight. Dean’s hands slowly caressed her body, the lower she went the more he started bending down. His fingers unraveled the buttons on her jeans and brought them down slowly to show her lace panties. He kissed her thighs one at a time, the more he kissed her the closer he got to her wet core. He stood up and slowly lowered her down to sit on the edge of the bed. (y/n) looked up at him as he was doing the work, His fingers looped around the seam of her shirt pulling it up to take it off. As they kissed once more Dean moved his fingers to her back to unclasp her bra that was trapping her breasts underneath the white lace. He pulled the bra forward to take it off her, with her, her breasts now spilled out for him to see. He growled under his breath when he saw them, He leaned into the crook of her neck kissing and nipping at her neck, and (y/n) moved her head away for more access to skin. She moaned at the sensation of him kissing her sweet spot. He backed away and slowly pushed her down to the bed. She lay on the bed as Dean kissed her inner thigh and kissed her cloth-covered puss, his hands running up and down her thighs.

She moaned out his name softly and tilted her head back as she closed her eyes. Dean stood up and removed his shirt showing her once more his chest. He took off his pants and boxers and climbed onto the bed on top of her. He kissed her once more as his hands traced down to the valley of her breasts, to her stomach, then to the edge of her panties. He slowly took them off her and threw them to the floor where their clothes were lying. His hand went up her waist and cupped her breast slowly teasing her nipple. He leaned closer to her, trapping her against him and the mattress, his cock was running along her wet folds and finally, he pushed himself inside her. He let out a sharp gasp from the pain of his thick cock stretching her out. But she couldn’t help herself, she wanted more. Her hands went to his shoulders but he quickly took them off and pinned her hands above her. The sounds of sex were filling the room, “C’mon sweetheart you can take it.” he groaned out. Her back arched in pleasure and the new sensation she was so desperate for. Dean began sliding in and out of her pussy filling the room with squelching sounds from her pussy making contact with him balls deep. “So fucking good f’me.” His hands began tightening around her wrists which were still above her. He began going a little faster which made her tits bounce and her moaning rapidly.

His tip was hitting her g-spot just right she felt a knot in her stomach wanting to unravel. She could feel his cock twitching inside her as he felt her walls tighten. As her orgasm finally let go, liquid came out of her like a faucet. He let go of her wrists before pulling out to spill his cum all over her stomach. His neck leaned back in pleasure before looking down at (y/n) who was panting. He leaned down once more and kissed her softly. “You ok sweetheart?” he asked. She looked at him and nodded. He quickly got up and grabbed a wet towel, cleaning her stomach and her thighs. Quickly she fell asleep. 

She was awoken by the strumming of a guitar. (y/n) looked to her side to see no one but unraveled blankets and sheets. She grabbed a blanket and covered herself before heading outside to see where the music was coming from. She took a peek and saw Dean who was only in sweats strumming a guitar in the middle of the night. (y/n) came up behind him and kissed his neck slowly before going up to his jaw. Dean smirked putting down the guitar and taking off the blanket. He led her to his lap where his hands went up and down her body, he kissed her roughly before picking her up and fucking her once more. The sounds of moans and yelling out his name were all they heard for the next hour before they both fell asleep. 

Taglist: @applelovesposts @ladykitana90 @cevansbaby-dove

A/N: @steviespookie here damn don't chop chop me. (Im jk ilysm!) ok for once I focused on my school work instead of writing this so that's why it came out a little late today. But yay it's done, I'm already starting for the next chapters ahead so I can just post and write. The comments thoughhh omg yall are so sweet you're making me kick my legs. Hope you guys are staying safe and thank you for the notes and reblogs, and to more followers hello your first a/n on my blog! also if you have some advice on how to spice up my smut scenes PLZZZ LET ME KNOW. other than that thanks for reading and I'll see you guys next week!

[transgenderpolls]

I think that some people just need to accept that they're not going to understand every reason why someone is dysphoric and so long as they're not making it someone else's problem (such as, attacking other trans people for "making them dysphoric") then there's no harm or moral weight to dysphoria. It's not like people can control what makes them feel a certain way.

Anyway my irrational dysphoria trigger is the women's underwear section. As a trans man, I just see all those bras and feminine undies and my brain just goes OH MAN, THIS IS THE PLACE FOR ME, CLEARLY I FIT IN AS SOMEONE WHO LOOKS LIKE A WOMAN and it's all downhill from there. Which sucks, because my friends like me to help them pick out cute matching sets and give advice on various styles.

i have a theory that dysphoria and spending years being gendered incorrectly by the world, in many cases, leads directly to both (pure o) ocd and c-ptsd. (which in general way more people have than they realize) so there's a ton of trans people who are highly sensitive to their surroundings in ways that are difficult to articulate and therefore they experience high anxiety, intrusive thoughts, rumination cycles, etc, and of course all of this is going to become enmeshed with the feelings that we conceptualize as dysphoria. meanwhile there are also plenty of trans people who may be very dysphoric but their experiences didn't lead to developing intrusive thought patterns, and they're having a fundamentally different experience of the world than those who do (ocd is often called one of the most isolating experiences), so they don't understand what it's like. and the only thing they can imagine is that if someone is dysphoric about something irrational, then that person must have actual bad/stupid beliefs about the world, and therefore they must be taking it out on other people.

it's par for the course for how people with ocd and intrusive thoughts are talked about even entirely outside of dysphoria/gender-related things, and i don't expect it to change anytime soon, but god is it exhausting.

[qiu-yan]

#fuck that’s sexy#I’ve seen the ‘wen ning’s resentment of JC is really WWX’s resentment of JC filtered through him’ take before#and I don’t hate it but I also don’t love it bc it denies WN the agency of disliking this guy for perfectly valid personal reasons#but I’m meh on ChengNing in general and bonkers about ChengXian#so this is like. surgically tailored to appeal to me#ningcheng#ningchengxian#chengxian#the untamed#now the question is what would Wen Ning DO with this information once he realized#does he want WWX to get the thing he secretly wants#and try to engineer something between them? (or talk to WWX directly hahaha that would not work and we all know it)#(WWX’s denial game is powerful and he also doesn’t actually listen to WN)#does he expressly NOT want chengxian to hook up bc seriously fuck Jiang Wanyin#does he do nothing but quietly agonize over the situation until something happens to escalate it#I think probably the most interesting and fucked up option#would be to pursue something with a very confused Jiang Cheng#who I headcanon as being fairly weak towards someone apparently actually *wanting* him in any capacity#who might go along with it for that reason#and then once JC was emotionally hooked by the relationship#pull a ‘haha I never actually want you this was just a zombie thing’#reveal on him#and he’s able to say it with enough of a ring of truth for it to be devastating#coin flip on whether he confesses it’s WWX’s sublimated desires or not#if he does I think it gets framed as ‘he so despised this desire for you and wanted so little of it#he shunts it all on me so I can deal with you and he doesn’t have to’#that would do numbers on Jiang Cheng’s psyche#god I almost want to write this#I’m just so fascinated by Wen Ning’s willingness to be cruel to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Cheng only#truly ChengNing is most appealing to me when it’s something incredibly broken for them both tags via @cerusee

Post-canon Ningcheng where WN doesn't know exactly why he keeps hooking up with JC

Then there's a night hunt with JC and WWX and LWJ and now that they're all in the same place, WN finally gets hit in the face with the realization it's WWX's attraction, expressing itself through WN because WWX is in denial about it (like WWX is in denial about resenting JC, and!projecting that on JC; like WWX once hated JZX so much that--) and WN is WWX's creature

[luckymousey]

Defending Trey Clover, an essay

I just fucking saw a post shit-talking about Trey and I'm so fucking angry that instead of shit-talking them back in my mind I'm going to write an essay about how I see Trey and why he's not a bad character.

I haven’t seen his dream, so there might be some mistakes here, and yes, there might be some slight spoilers for those who haven't seen his dream like me

⚠️English is not my first language⚠️

Trey Clover

We all know who he’s.

He’s like the older brother/mother of Heartslabyul.

The one who takes care of the young ones.

The one who tries to blend in with the crowd.

And also one of the most misunderstood and hated characters in all the fandom.

Like, all the hate directed to him is just because of the fact that he didn’t do anything to help Riddle when his mom caught them eating tarts.

All the haters don’t understand one single thing.

Trey was a kid.

He was just a kid, he didn’t know the real consequences of Riddle sneaking out, he just wanted to have some fun, like any child wants to, he had no real power against Mrs. Rosehearts, even if he shouted, even if he fought for Riddle, it would’ve been of no use, even more, I’m sure Riddle would have been punished in a worse way if Trey stood up for him, AND, his family and him had to endure a five hours yelling of Mrs. Rosehearts; Trey was behind his parents, looking how the tears flooded down his friend’s cheek, how Riddle’s mother was shouting and how his parents were being yelled at by something that wasn’t even bad, god damnit, he was severely affected by everything that happened that day.

They even mention in his dream (I read this as a spoiler, I’m not sure) that his family laugh at what happened that day, but I don't think it's a: “it wasn’t bad at all, just a slight, small scare” laughing, but a “I can’t cry about it, so I can only laugh” laughing (like, everytime the teacher hands out our exams, a lot of my classmates say this)

And Riddle’s mom is someone pretty famous.

Trey once said that they were curious about the kid who lived in the biggest house in the neighborhood, so that means she’s also pretty rich.

In other words, she is powerful.

(Power means the money and fame, but it has another meaning, which I’ll be talking about later)

There was nothing a family of bakers could do at that moment, even if they were kind of famous, much less a 10 year old kid.

And think about how he felt when he realized Riddle wouldn’t be leaving his house for a long time.

Think about how he felt when he received his NRC admission letter (or whatever the crow sends them), thinking about how he probably won’t be seeing Riddle, no matter how much he hoped for it, now that he was going to study somewhere else.

Think about how excited he was about Riddle’s admission in his same school only to be greeted by the reflection of the woman who shouted for 5 hours straight, in his parents’ bakery, some years ago.

Trey wasn’t and isn’t a bad friend, he was a ten year old child and in the Heartslabyul Arc he was an eighteen year old who was still traumatized, no matter how he tried to hide it, he’s not fine, he’s not ok, he’s not alright. He’s not as extremely traumatized as Riddle, who suffered years of abuse from his mom first hand, but he’s still bothered by what happened.

Unlike a lot of people say, Trey did not encourage Riddle to become a tyrant, he did not try to mold him into one, and he did not accept Riddle’s new way of being.

He just didn’t know what to do.

As I said before, he was excited to see Riddle again, he really was, Cater said Trey couldn’t stop talking about Riddle to everyone, so the fact that Riddle had a 360º change (a change that resembled him a lot like his mother), kind of scared him, because that Riddle wasn’t his friend, he wasn’t the Riddle he meet when they were kids, he wasn’t the Riddle who laughed, played and spent his time with.

We could say Trey was paralyzed for one whole year and some months because he was still trying to find a way to digest all the new information he received.

It would be something similar to living but not living at the same time.

He was studying, baking cake as always, taking care of his peers, you know, being his usual self; but deep inside, he was processing everything, he was trying to understand Riddle.

Honestly, I even imagine Trey broke down into tears, in front of his family, when he went back home for the winter holidays in his second year.

I am sure he was affected by how much Riddle changed in all the time they didn’t see each other.

Now, even if he was paralyzed, why couldn’t he try to stop Riddle?

Because Riddle became just like his mom, if someone said something he didn’t like, he would get beheaded, and that only makes Trey think back of Riddle’s mom, because it’s the same situation.

He had no power against him.

And yes, yes, he can overwrite Riddle’s UM, but…would that change Riddle?

Of course not.

And that's what I was referring to when I said he had no power against his mother, it’s not only about magic, money and fame, but also the fact that neither of the two Rosehearts would change their way of thinking so easily, they would be constantly: “I’m right and that’s final” (Riddle’s way of thinking was more like: “my mother is always right, so if she says it’s like this, then it’s like this”)

Because of that, Trey started thinking: ”I can’t change him, so the only thing I can do to not make anyone suffer anymore is to try to please and calm him down”

There was no way Trey would’ve been able to stop Riddle with that thought in mind, so Trey in reality is not a ‘bad’ or an ‘useless’ character, he is the type of person who needed a little push to realize that it was better to try than not trying at all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So, yeah, this is my essay, nothing more, and I hope that those haters finally understand Trey’s whole design and purpose in the history

(Also, a lot of people also say that his dream is dumb and everything, and, again, I’ve not seen his dream, it has not been translated and I sadly don’t have the game, but I know that he’s the type of person who likes to bake sweets and offers them to comfort people, so in reality, I don’t think his dream is dumb, I think that is the way he sees people can be happy, you know, like: “here, it won’t immediately solve your problems, but I’m sure one slice won’t hurt” type of thought (like what happened in one of Vil’s cards, I think it was Vil’s), he just wants to be in a place where everyone can be happy one way or another, and that ended up in them being turned into meatballs, because he believes that sweets always sweeten life (yes, I made pun on that))

[thoughtfulfiction]

While We’re Young

Author’s note: Anon requested, Hope you all enjoy!

“Wait,” you said, your voice breaking the comfortable silence in the car. You twisted one of your hoodie strings around your finger, tightening your grip on it and staring at Justin as if the realization had just crashed into you. “What if they don’t like me?”

Justin glanced over, his brows furrowing before his expression softened. His hand found its place on your thigh, his thumb tracing a lazy pattern through the fabric of your leggings. You were convinced that his soothing touch could change lives. “They’re going to love you,” he said simply, as though it wasn’t even a question. “My mom’s already planning to interrogate you about your favorite foods so she can cook for you. That’s her love language.”

You wanted to believe him, but your mind was already racing. “I mean, what if they think I’m not good enough for you? Or—oh god—what if I say something stupid and embarrass myself? Bad first impressions are impossible to recover from, and if this doesn't go the way we hope…” You trailed off, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

At the next stoplight, Justin leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “First of all, you couldn’t embarrass yourself even if you tried. And second, I’ve seen you charm complete strangers. My family doesn’t stand a chance.”

Despite his confidence, your nerves didn’t fully settle. “Thanks, babe,” you murmured, managing a small smile. “But what am I supposed to do with the next thirteen hours? That’s so much time for me to go through worse case scenarios.”

“And to make me listen to your Sad Girl playlist,” Justin switched gears to remind you, his lips twitching into a grin.

“Oh, absolutely.” You laughed, connecting your phone to his car’s Bluetooth, taking a break from your negative self-talk. The opening chords of your favorite melancholic ballad filled the car as you leaned back in your seat.

Justin groaned dramatically but didn’t complain. Instead, he reached over to squeeze your hand, the warmth of his skin a quiet and comforting reassurance that you’d carry with you all the way to Eugene.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulled you out of your thoughts when he asked, “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good. I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, giving him a long winded breakdown of what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane. And definitely take me to Nike. It honestly feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.” You note with a laugh. If Nike made suits, he'd definitely be first in line.

He gave you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning while helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked on your fries, swapping spots with him after lunch so he could take a break from driving. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and they smell like you. Anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood, actually. Take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich, so I take from you and...give to me. The poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free, but that is a pretty solid comparison.”

After about 8 hours of you being on aux, you decided to cut him so slack and let him take over on music as you continued to drive, mouthing the lyrics of the latest song that was playing from his phone, quickly getting lost in the rhythm.

He glanced over at you, chuckling softly, nodding his head along to the beat. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. Hate to admit it but this is kind of a banger." You smirked, tilting your head toward him. "You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head. “No shot. You’re not doing this to me.”

You turned up the music, singing loudly and deliberately off-key as he sighed deeply, his head dropping back against the headrest. But to your surprise, he joined in during the chorus. Both of you were screaming the lyrics to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” by Def Leppard, the car practically vibrating with your energy.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he said, holding out his pinky.

“Deal,” you laughed, locking your pinky with his before refocusing on the road.

A few hours later, Justin motioned for you to take the next exit. “Let’s hop out right here. I want to show you something,” he said cryptically.

The stop turned out to be a scenic lookout, the perfect place to watch the sunset with Mt. Shasta looming majestically in the distance. Justin laced his fingers with yours as the two of you walked toward the edge, stretching your legs after hours in the car.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, mesmerized by the golden and pink hues painting the sky.

Justin turned to you with a warm smile, his eyes full of something that made your stomach flutter. “Yeah… me too.”

You smacked his arm, keeping your gaze on the horizon. “Justin, focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry, I just got really distracted by the view in front of me. It’s kind of become my favorite.” He stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. His beard—something that came and went whenever he felt like it—tickled your temple, making you smile.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still stealing your breath even after all this time. His green eyes were softer in the glow of the setting sun, flickering between your eyes and lips as if he couldn’t decide where to focus.

“You’re my favorite view too,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while...the rest of my life even.”

The words hung in the air, fragile yet heavy with meaning. His brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, you worried you’d said too much. You hadn't even meant to say that last part out loud and you almost backtracked. But then, his lips curled into a small, hesitant smile, like he was processing the weight of your words.

“Really?” he asked, his voice low and steady. His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “You—you see us doing this? Getting married, spending our lives together?”

The vulnerability in his tone made your heart ache in the best way. “Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

Justin didn’t respond immediately, but his actions spoke louder than any words ever could. His hands slid to frame your face fully, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if memorizing every detail. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

When his lips finally met yours, it was soft and deliberate, like he was pouring everything he felt but couldn’t say into that one kiss. It wasn’t hurried or frantic; it was the kind of kiss that made the world fade away until it was just the two of you.

His hand gently cradled your head, holding you in place as if he was afraid you might slip away. You gripped the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, your heart racing as the kiss deepened. There was something so raw, so unspoken in the way his lips moved against yours—it wasn’t just passion; it was promise. Everything you saw, this bright beautiful future together? He saw it too.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together. He let out a shaky laugh, his hands still cradling your face. “I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with either,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “Until now.”

The kiss lingered for just a moment longer, both of you savoring the connection, the sound of your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your breath. When Justin finally pulled back, there was a brief moment of silence, a quiet understanding between you. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, giving you a small smile before pulling away completely to open the door of the car.

“I think we’ve stalled long enough,” he said, his voice a bit rougher than usual but still carrying that calm confidence you admired. “Let’s get this over with.”

You both shared a laugh, though it felt a bit nervous on your part as the reality of the day hit. You had no idea what to expect, but you knew this was a big moment for Justin—and for you.

Justin took the keys from your hand, giving you one last reassuring squeeze before getting in the driver's seat. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the jittery nerves you hadn’t even realized you were holding onto.

The final leg of the drive felt like it stretched on forever, even though only a few hours had passed since you were on the mountain. There was something different in the air now. The soft, quiet hum of the road felt more like a countdown to something important.

Every few minutes, Justin would glance over at you, a soft smile curling at his lips as if trying to reassure himself just as much as you. His hand eventually found itself encasing yours, his thumb making lazy circles over your skin. He wasn’t saying much, but his presence, calm and unwavering, was more than enough.

When the exit for Eugene finally appeared, you felt your pulse quicken. This was it. This was the moment.

“Here we go,” Justin murmured, his voice somehow more steady than his movements, as he guided the car off the highway and toward the familiar road leading to his childhood home.

The transition felt sudden, but not uncomfortable. It was a quiet moment of realization that everything you’d shared so far had been leading to this point. He was letting you in. You were meeting the people who mattered most to him, the ones who had shaped him into the man he was today.

As you approached the house, you could see the familiar outline of the porch, a few trees swaying in the breeze, and a small garage you guessed held memories of Justin’s childhood. The house was modest, but there was a sense of warmth and familiarity that seemed to radiate from the front door, even from the car.

Justin slowed as he approached, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours one last time before he parked the car. He looked over at you, eyes soft but serious, like he was searching for your reassurance.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with both excitement and nerves.

You nodded, squeezing his hand back. “Yeah. Ready.”

And with that, the two of you got out of the car and walked toward the front door of his family’s home, the journey that had brought you here feeling like both an ending and a beginning.

The door swung open before you even knocked, and there stood his mom, her arms outstretched.

She was gorgeous, her dark hair a stark contrast to Justin's much lighter features. But she wasn't interested in him at all, making a beeline for you straight away. “Oh, you’re even more beautiful than he said! I’m Holly—come in, come in!"

You barely had time to process her words before you were enveloped in a warm hug, her energy immediately putting you at ease. Over her shoulder, you spot Justin’s dad, Mark, standing on the porch with a reserved smile, and Justin’s brothers are leaning against the doorway, smirking. Justin laughed softly behind you, side stepping you and his mom. "Alright, let her breathe please? It'd be helpful if she made it through this entire night without suffocating," he jokes as his mom pulls away, rolling her eyes as she gives him a hug.

A younger guy who looks almost exactly like a mustached version of your boyfriend greets you next. "Hi, I'm Patrick. Glad Mitch wasn't lying and you are a real person, but pro tip? You're way out of this dork's league," he says with a serious face, nodding his head towards his older brother.

Justin glares at him and doesn't respond, muttering something under his breath that only Patrick catches as he bursts into a fit of laughter. You give Mitch a hug—the familiar face of Justin's older brother a welcome sight. He was a first-year orthopedic surgery resident at UCLA, the perfect situation for him and Justin to live together again. You'd been able to meet him on several occasions which proved useful in easing your nerves about meeting everyone else. “How was the drive? Are you guys staying at the ranch tonight?”

“We are,” you replied with a smile. “I’m really excited to finally see this infamous place.”

Justin’s dad steps forward, his handshake firm but warm, his eyes studying you with quiet curiosity before his face softens into a welcoming smile. “Don’t let these two scare you off. We’re happy to finally meet you. Let's head inside, I think Holly already has the baby pictures set out and ready for you to go through," he smiles, patting Justin on the back as his son shakes his head.

"You're lucky your dad talked me out of making a PowerPoint Presentation because we were seconds away from watching a pre dinner slideshow." Holly says to him with a small smile as everyone steps inside.

Patrick's voice cuts through everyone's laughter, "she's not even kidding, it was about to have music included and everything but dad saved you. I was about to give her some of the best material." He looks over at you, overenunciating for emphasis. "Two words: bowl. Cut."

"See what I have to deal with?" Justin whispers, gently pulling you into his side. Mark and Holly exchange knowing looks but don't say anything.

The house smelled of cinnamon and fresh bread, like warmth itself had settled into the walls. Framed pictures lined the hallways—some faded with time, others vibrant and new—each capturing a story of childhood adventures and hard-won victories. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the cozy living room. This wasn’t just a house; it was a sanctuary, a place where love was stitched into the very fabric of its foundation.

On the table in the living room is a stack of photo albums from when Justin was a newborn all the way up until his senior year of college. Countless memories were shared in these frames, a clearly busy but joyful childhood filled with love, laughter and lots of sporting events of all kinds. You could see that this family valued quality time with each other and the home you were in radiated warmth and love.

You ran your fingers lightly over the plastic covering of one album, tracing the faded marker label: Justin – Year 3. Inside, a chubby-cheeked toddler grinned back at you, his tiny facial features stretched in a mischievous but slightly forced smile.

“He never changed,” Patrick teased. “Still hates cameras.”

His words made you laugh a little because it was true, but you also saw something deeper. A boy who had grown up in a home where love wasn’t measured in trophies or contracts but in moments. The same boy who had fought to protect his private life in the face of stadium lights and national attention. You understood now—it wasn’t about secrecy. It was about keeping his people, the most important part of him, safe.

Your gaze flickered to Justin, his fingers tapping against his thigh—a telltale sign of deep thought. He wasn’t just reminiscing. He was remembering what it felt like to carry all of this, to be seen as something larger than life before he even had a chance to grow into it. And yet, here, he wasn’t the NFL quarterback. He was just...Justin.

"He was the starter by the end of that season, kind of became the hometown hero from then," Mitch sighs, sifting through some of the photos. "Things kind of got chaotic after that, with comparisons and people talking on social media."

"It was annoying," Justin cuts in, "deleted my Instagram after that. Only got it back around the draft for endorsement purposes." His words are dry, like it was painful or embarrassing thinking back to that time.

You had always respected, even admired, Justin’s need for privacy. But sitting here, surrounded by the people who had shaped him, you understood where it all came from: it wasn’t just about keeping the world out—it was about keeping his world safe. The weight of expectations, the relentless scrutiny, the unspoken pressure to be perfect—it had started young. He hadn’t chosen to be private. He had been forced to learn how to protect the things that mattered most.

And that’s what this house and his family was.

His one refuge from a world that always wanted more.

"Alright," Holly says, breaking you out of your epiphany, "who's ready to eat?"

This was a family you could definitely see yourself being a part of. Justin seemed so much more relaxed and at ease here which was a stark contrast to what you'd seen from him recently. His job was unforgiving, unrelenting. And the fans? You thanked your lucky stars daily for the fact that Justin wasn't on Twitter, especially after the Houston loss. This is where he belonged, these were his people. They didn't care about the stats or the money or everything that came with it and that's exactly how he wanted to be treated. He had a home in these people. He'd only found that comfort and peace one other time since he left Eugene.

And that was when he met you.

Dinner went on seamlessly, Mark joking asked if you two had a wedding date set after watching his son not-so-subtly check in on you throughout your stay. There were inside jokes, little moments of laughter from your relationship with Justin like how you had to adjust to his crazy hours in the facility from Monday-Wednesday but Thursdays were the days that really mattered, it was just the two of you. And sometimes Mitch and Isabella. But those were the days that brought you even closer, those little moments, just like this one that brought you so much joy it felt like you'd explode. There was easy laughter, Patrick telling some story about Justin being so private and how much he likes to keep to himself that he never thought he'd see this day. You spoke up and reassured him that you think you've successfully peeled back some layers and found your best friend in the process. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Mitch giving Patrick a nudge. Even Mark cracked a little smile, but all you could focus on was Justin's subtle smile that spoke volumes, in his own unique way. After everyone was finished with their meal, you found yourself in the kitchen with Holly, helping her plate dessert while the guys debated football in the other room.

“He’s different with you, you know.” She nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel before leaning against the counter.

Your hands froze mid-reach. A small knot of nerves twisted in your stomach. “Different good or…?”

She smiled, her eyes soft with something unreadable. “Good. Really good.” There was a wistfulness in her expression, something unspoken lingering in the air. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head, curiosity sparking. “Oh?”

“His grandma. My mom,” she said, voice quieter now, like the weight of memory had settled over her. “She was the only one who could ever get my dad to slow down. He was always moving—always thinking about the next challenge, the next goal. But with her, it was…different. She had this way of pulling him back to the present, reminding him that love isn’t measured in achievements. That life isn’t just about what you do—it’s about who you share it with.”

Her eyes met yours then, her meaning unmistakable. “Seeing you and Justin felt very similar to seeing them together again. It’s really nice to see him be with someone who helps him to reel it in a little.”

Your heart clenched, warmth blooming in your chest. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, forcing out a small laugh. “Well, he’s still a workaholic, so I might not be that good at it.”

Holly chuckled. “That’s just who he is. But I see the way he looks at you. The way he’s always checking in. You’re his home. His safe space.” She paused, and added softly, “And that’s all a mother could ever want for her son.”

You blinked back the unexpected sting of tears and watched as Holly swiped at her eyes. Before you could really process what you were doing, you were hugging her again. All the nerves and tension from earlier have completely vanished. Justin might not say much, but his actions had always spoken volumes. And now, hearing it from his mom—knowing that she saw it too—meant more than you could put into words.

The two of you walked back in with trays holding little bowls filled with apple crisp and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top with caramel drizzle.

As Justin watched you, something settled in his chest—a feeling he hadn’t even known he was searching for. His mom was smiling at you in that way she only did when she had already decided someone was family. His dad—usually quiet, reserved—nodded along to your words like he genuinely enjoyed the conversation. His brothers, relentless as ever, had already started pulling you into their teasing.

And there you were. Sitting beside him, laughing like you belonged here. Because you did.

An hour later, after lingering goodbyes and a few last jokes, you walked side by side to his car. As Justin slid into the driver’s seat, he exhaled slow and deep. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying finally lifted. Maybe it was the fear of his two worlds colliding. Maybe it was the quiet, unspoken worry that you wouldn’t fit into this part of his life.

But you did. Seamlessly. Effortlessly. Like you were always meant to.

“Well,” you said, patting his thigh with a teasing grin, “that went great. Can’t believe you were so freaked out.”

He turned to you, feigning offense before shaking his head with a laugh. The sound of it filled the car, warm and easy. You joined in, your laughter melting into his as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.

This. This is what home should feel like.

Justin leaned over, pressing a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. “Told you they’d love you,” he murmured.

But as he pulled back, hand still wrapped around yours, the thought hit him like a slow-burning realization.

I think I might love you too.