#and that is important because we can see how much it means to him when shinae notices things or shows care and concern

[gguk-n]

Hello there! Love your work on the Max Verstappen x reader fiction. If it isn't too much, can I request an angst based on the song " All I wanted was a coffee" by Samantha Ebert? You can decide the ending but, a gut wrenching angst with kelly is appreciated. Thank you!

I hope you like this, I tried to use the song in the way that I saw fit. The reader has many insecurities and bit of mommy issues. Mention of cuts and bleeding.

I wish you loved me

{Reader’s POV}

Max and I started dating soon after he got out of a really long relationship with his ex. With Max being a Formula One driver; the details of his past were general knowledge, did I wish I didn’t know? Yes. Because in the pictures of Max and Kelly, you could see his eyes sparkled and he would smile so bright sometimes and I felt like I never got to know that Max. But every relationship is different; I couldn’t compare it, could I?

Max was loving, I mean every boyfriend is. He would sometimes forget important stuff but he was a busy man with an even busier job.

But it hurt when I saw Max with P or Kelly for that matter. His eyes would light up; I just felt like crap every time he met them, but Max never noticed. At the end of the day, Max was always around P while she was growing up, it was a given she missed him, right?

It got worse when Kelly started coming to races and meeting Max. The worst was yet to come; the other girlfriends started to side eye me whenever me and Max would interacted as if Max was Kelly’s boyfriend.

I was in the bathroom when I heard them; they were talking about how Max and Kelly looked cute together, they were the model family, that Max deserved better. Kelly even talked about all the gifts he got her and P recently. I just sat there in the cubical for a very long time.

I waited, I was dumb I know but no one’s loved me before and the fact that Max was willing to love me even for a moment felt like relief. I didn't want to let him go, I could not when there was a chance he would come back.

I waited like always, Max was always away having dinner with P since she missed him. She missed him a lot ever since we started dating. I never said anything since Max was like her father figure but it hurt.

One of those nights, I was sat drinking whiskey, it was in Max’s alcohol cabinet. The bottle was almost over. The snacks dried up soon after the third glass. I was sat on the floor, glass in hand when Max walked in. “World’s best dad everyone” I sang. “How much did you drink?” He laughed. He laughed at me. “You know my mother was right” I said, trying to get up. “She wasn’t really the best mom, now was she” Max commented. “Yeah but she was right about a lot of things and she was right about how difficult to love I was” I laughed. Max looked at me with sadness in his eyes, “don’t pity me Max.... How could Kelly steal you from me?” I cried. Max said nothing. “No no sorry sorry, how can something be stolen from me when it was never mine to begin with.” I laughed bitterly taking the last swig from my glass. “The alcohol’s gone Max, just like your feelings for me or did you ever have them to begin with?” I slurred.

“Y/N I” Max began. “No Max, you’re not at fault. It’s my fault for coming between 2 lovers. You should’ve told me that you loved her, I would’ve never dated you” I cried for the first time tonight in front of Max. As I steadied myself, the whiskey bottle fell and broke, and I tried to pick up the pieces but ended up cutting myself. “Hehe look Max I’m bleeding” I giggled holding up my hand. “Y/N let’s clean that up” Max said trying to hold my hand. “NO, Kelly won’t like it. I’m not a home wrecker...or maybe I am” I laughed bitterly. “Let me help you” Max pleaded. “You look at me with so much concern for the first time since we started dating” I pointed out. Max’s eyes bore into mine. I tried to walk away but ended up stepping on the glass. “Look I’m bleeding from my foot now too. At least now people can see that I’m hurting since I’ll have bandages all over me. My heart ache gets missed every time, you know. Maybe now, they might see my hurt, for once” I said with fresh tears forming.

“Mothers are always right. I’m unlovable, always been. If only I was pretty, if only I was a model, if only I was thinner, if only I was….Kelly Piquet, then you would’ve loved me. But I’m me, I’m plain old difficult to love, Y/N that’s why I’m unlovable” I chuckled. “Let’s go to the hospital” he pleaded again. “No, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it. Then you can have your happy ever after with Kelly” I laughed bitterly. “Did you ever love me?” I asked. Max was quiet. “I was just a rebound wasn’t I. Tell me you really loved me even for a second” I begged. “I’m sorry.” He said.

I grabbed my phone with my other hand while bleeding on to the floor; “don’t worry. I’ll clean your place before I leave” I said looking at the trail of blood I was leaving and dialled my phone calling the only person I knew in Monaco, the only person who didn’t hate me or talk badly about me, Lewis. “Lewis, Hi....I need to go to the hospital. I’m bleeding” I giggled. “Are you drunk? How did you hurt your self? Where are you?” He asked concerned. “Yes, yes, home no wait, Max’s home” I answered. I heard him sigh. “Where Max?” He asked. “He’s here” I said looking up at Max. “Ask him to take you now?” Lewis suggested. “NO, we broke up, and ex-boyfriend’s don’t take their ex-girlfriend’s to the doctor” I explained. “What?” He asked shocked. “Please Lewis, it hurts. Can you come soon?” I asked. “I’ll be there soon” Lewis said and cut the call. I sat there and looked at Max, “The whiskey tasted sweet as always and you sobered me up so fast” I sighed looking at the mess I had made.

Lewis came to take me to the hospital; he did not speak to Max. I guess even he knew what was going on. I didn’t see Max again after that either.

[alwaysmicado]

Callisto I

10.2k | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 9

Series Masterlist | Joel Masterlist | previous | AO3

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, emotional hurt/comfort, weed, mention of domestic violence, toxic dynamic, graphic vomiting, emotional rollercoaster, fluff Summary: Your car ride home from the beach is...eventful. Joel does something special for you to express his feelings. A/N: This part was going to be much too long, so I split it in two. It was important for me to post part I of Callisto before my birthday, and I’m so excited that I finally get to share it with you. Happy reading & please let me know your thoughts if you’re up for it. Thank you for your continued support, guys! ♡ Dividers by @/cafekitsune. Songs: Backburner by NIKI & My Exes by Snake City

“Why do you keep coming back?”

You bring the joint to your lips, your fingers brushing lightly against his as he passes it over. You take a deep drag, letting the familiar burn of the weed settle into your lungs before you exhale, slowly, the smoke curling into the night air. It’s a slow haze, softening your anger, making it easier to breathe even if only for a little while. 

The pressure in your chest doesn’t lift—it never does, not really—but the weed at least dulls the edges.

For now, anyway.

The streetlight casts long shadows on the chipped concrete, bathing you both in a murky orange hue. You sit side by side on the curb, the shared joint passing lazily between you, the quiet of the night only disturbed by a dog barking further down the road.

Simon leans back, his shoulders slumped, the hood of his jacket pulled up, obscuring most of his face. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, tracing the outline of his jaw, the way his lips curl around the joint. You hate how he still looks good to you, even after his latest stunt. 

“Why do you keep coming back?” he asks again, his voice low and gravelly, as if he already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it. “If all we do is hurt each other?”

You shrug, looking up at the stars, or what little of them you can see through the haze of city smog. You know the answer, but it feels too pathetic to admit out loud. The truth? It’s not that simple. It never has been.

“Maybe because the pain is addicting,” you whisper, your voice barely cutting through the stillness. “It’s like…a twisted dance, and we can’t stop stepping on each other’s toes.”

Simon smirks, and you catch the briefest glimpse of that crooked smile that makes your heart race. “You always were poetic,” he mutters, his tone tinged with both affection and scorn. He passes you the joint again, and this time, when your fingers brush, it sends a jolt through you—familiar, electric, dangerous.

You take a drag, letting the smoke cloud your thoughts, dull the ache. “I mean it, Simon,” you say, the words coming out slower now, heavy from both the high and the weight of them. “We know how to hurt each other in all the right ways. It’s almost like…we’re better at hurting than loving.”

He chuckles, but it’s empty, hollow. “Maybe we were never supposed to love in the first place,” he says, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe all we’re good at is fucking things up.”

There’s no denying the truth in his words. You’ve been here before, countless times, caught in this cycle of destruction, breaking each other apart piece by piece, only to come back together, craving the chaos more than the calm. Simon would get restless after a while, he’d cheat and lie, you’d find out, you’d scream, cry, threaten to leave, and then—somehow—you’d end up in his arms again.

It was exhausting, suffocating, but it was also magnetic. You didn’t know how to leave. And neither did he.

You sigh, flicking the ashes of the joint onto the ground, your hand trembling slightly. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” you say, more to yourself than to him. “The way I can’t seem to let you go, even though I know you’re bad for me.”

He tilts his head, a smirk tugging at his lips as he studies your face for a moment. “Have you ever considered that you’d be a lot happier if you just admitted to yourself that you like it?”

He reaches for the joint, his fingers brushing yours for longer this time, deliberate. “You can keep telling yourself I’m the bad guy all you want, babe,” he says, his voice low, “but we both know you ain’t innocent in this either. You like it. The fighting, the drama, the sex. You like what we have.”

Your stomach tightens at his words, because there’s a part of you that knows he’s right. 

You’ve said things, done things, you’re not proud of. Screamed in his face, hurled insults meant to wound, thrown plates that shattered like the fragile remains of your relationship. And then, when the storm passed, you’d pull him into bed, your anger melting into a desperate kind of need. It was all you knew—this toxic spiral that twisted love and pain together until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Maybe,” you admit softly, feeling the weight of your own guilt settle on your shoulders. “Maybe I do.”

Simon turns to you then, his gaze locking with yours, and for a moment, you can see the cracks in his armor, the vulnerability he never lets anyone else see. “So, what are we doing here?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “We’re just gonna keep doing this? Over and over?”

You swallow hard, the question hanging between you like a knife. You know the answer, even if you don’t want to admit it. You’re stuck in this loop, and neither of you knows how to break free.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know how to stop.”

Simon leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and for a second, your heart races with that familiar, dangerous anticipation. “We don’t have to stop,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “We can keep this going; keep fucking up, keep hurting, keep loving. It’s what we do.”

You let out a small, tired laugh, and shake your head. “Yeah, Simon, great plan,” you say, your tone light, almost condescending, though there’s no real bite behind it. “Let’s just keep breaking each other into pieces. That’s gonna end well.”

You don’t even have the energy to fight properly. It’s all too much, and you’re too tired. Tired of the fights, the back-and-forth, the constant cycling through pain and passion like it’s the only way you know how to exist together.

He watches you closely, his gaze unwavering, as if he’s trying to figure out what you’re thinking, waiting for you to snap at him, to tell him off. But you don’t. You can’t. You feel the exhaustion settle in your bones, making it impossible to muster up any anger.

Why is it so difficult?

What the hell is wrong with you that it’s so difficult for him to love you? To not hurt you? You wonder if it’s something about you, something broken deep inside, something that makes you impossible to love. 

You’ve tried, haven’t you? You’ve bent yourself to fit the version of you he seems to want, the version that’s easier, less complicated, less demanding. But no matter how much you bend, no matter how much you give, it’s never enough.

What is it about you that’s so unlovable?

“I’m sorry, you know,” Simon murmurs, taking a long drag from the joint.

You blink, your head feeling light, detached, like you’re floating just above the surface of yourself. The words come slower now, softer, like you have to pull them from some faraway place.

“For what?”

You hear yourself ask the question, but it feels distant, like it’s not really you speaking. The world around you is muffled, like you’re wrapped in cotton, the sounds, the lights, all muted. Simon’s face swims in your vision, and for a moment, you focus on the way his lips curve as he exhales, the smoke curling lazily from his mouth. You watch it drift up, swirling in the air between you, and it’s almost beautiful, the way it moves, weightless and free.

Simon glances at you, his eyes half-lidded, bloodshot, but there’s something in his gaze—something that makes you feel a tug of recognition, though your mind is too foggy to grasp what it is. He takes another drag, slower this time, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft.

“You know what.” He hands you back the joint and you take it, and you inhale deeply, the burn in your lungs calming your nerves.

“Then why’d you do it?” 

He hadn’t even tried to hide it this time. You heard the story from someone else first, a smug, offhand comment meant as a joke. Simon, with his arm slung over your shoulder, laughing along like it was nothing, like you weren’t standing right there, feeling the ground crumble beneath your feet.

“I was drunk as fuck ‘cause they kept bringing shots after shots after shots, and she took advantage of that like you wouldn’t believe. That’s what those girls do, and shit, I wasn’t the only one they got like that—Ben, Jake, Alex, Teddy too, I think.”

All of them in relationships, one to be married in two weeks, one with a baby on the way. 

Disgusting.

“It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Simon furrows his brow, turning to you, confusion flashing across his face. “What do you mean?”

You shake your head, unable to look at him directly, your gaze fixed on the joint between your fingers. “Going through life, knowing nothing is ever your fault,” you murmur. There’s no anger in your tone, just a tired sort of resignation, like you’re saying something you’ve known all along.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffs. “Nothing’s ever been easy for me. I fucked up royally, yeah, I get that, but it wasn’t my fucking fault. I didn’t even wanna go to the damn club, but Alex wouldn’t stop begging, so I gave in.”

“You see?” you say, your voice quiet, but firm. “You’re fine as long as Alex was the one who made you cheat. It’s all good ‘cause the stripper took advantage of you, right?” You can hear the bitterness in your own voice.

“You don’t need to change or grow, ‘cause, what’s the point, your parents fucked you up anyway. It’s your boss’s fault your coworkers complain about you, it’s the cops’ fault that you got a DUI, and it’s my fault that you resent me.”

You watch Simon’s face as the words sink in, the flicker of defensiveness in his eyes, the way his jaw tightens.

“And I know that deep down you really do believe all that.” You pause, staring at him through the thick fog clouding your mind, your body sinking deeper into the concrete. “So, I guess my question is…why even bother with me anymore?”

“Baby…”

“No, I’m serious,” you say, cutting him off, but there’s no fire in your voice, just a dull weariness that matches the slow pulse of your heartbeat. “Why? Why keep me around when you could be happy, doing what you wanna do, without me holding you back?”

Simon sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping. “I wouldn’t be happy without you.”

“But I’m not enough for you,” you whisper, tears inadvertently filling your eyes. “I’ve never been enough. Despite trying everything in my power. I’m not enough for you.”

Simon doesn’t answer right away. He takes the joint from your hand, inhaling deeply, staring at some distant point in the darkened parking lot. The quiet stretches, thick and uncomfortable, and for a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all. But then he finally sighs, rubbing a hand over his face like he’s trying to buy himself more time.

“What do you want me to say?” he mutters. “You know I’m not always good with words or expressing feelings and all that shit…but you’re wrong. You’re everything to me.”

He hands you the joint and you shake your head, a mirthless laugh bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, that’s why you fucked a stripper and had unprotected sex with me right after. Do you hear yourself?”

He exhales exasperatedly as he leans back, palms pressed against the cool concrete. “It’s not– it didn’t mean anything,” he says, his voice defensive. “It’s not like I’m looking for someone better than you.”

“Then why?” you press, your voice shaking now. “If I’m so important to you, why do you keep lying and sneaking around? What’s the point?”

He sighs again, louder this time, like he’s tired of this conversation before it’s even really begun. “I don’t know, okay? I get restless sometimes. I’m not…thinking when I do it.” His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, a small, almost absent-minded gesture that makes your heart clench. “It’s not like I’m trying to hurt you. I’m really not, baby. And It doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

His hand tightens around yours, grounding you in the moment, and for a second, you almost feel comforted.

Almost.

But then, like a flash, the memory hits you—sharp, vivid, paralyzing.

The pain shoots through your wrist all over again, that awful, sickening crunch echoing in your ears. You’re back in the ER, the blinding white lights overhead making your eyes burn, your head pounding as you sit there, staring at the sterile walls. You’d made up some story, but the nurse looked right through you, her eyes filled with pity.

You remember how you sat there, waiting, your body aching but your mind empty, not even able to cry a single tear. Just numb. Completely detached from yourself, like you were watching it all from the outside.

You remember the young doctor, the one who stitched you up. His voice was light, conversational, doing his best to distract you from the deep gash in your wrist. He told you about how his daughter had just started kindergarten that day. How proud and terrified he and his wife were, how they’d taken a hundred pictures of her in her little backpack. How she was such a happy, bright girl, full of curiosity and excitement.

You could barely listen, but you remember the way his voice softened when he said, “I just hope she always knows how loved she is.”

That was the part that stuck with you.

The way his voice cracked just slightly when he said it, like he was imagining all the ways the world could break her. How someone could end up hurting her like someone hurt you. And as you sat there, the needle pulling your skin back together, all you could think about was how far away that feeling was—how you had no idea what it felt like to be that loved, that safe.

You swallow hard, looking down at your intertwined hands. “You’ve said that before, you know. When you drove me home from the hospital.” Your voice is soft, almost too quiet, but the accusation is there.

Simon stiffens. His grip loosens slightly, and you can see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it’s the kind of guilt that runs shallow, just skimming the surface. His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hand away.

“I thought you were over that,” he mutters. 

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Yeah, sure,” you say with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You hold out your hand to him, the small scar visible on your wrist, faded but undeniable. “Totally over it. Look, it’s almost like it never happened.”

Simon’s face falters as he hesitates, then takes your hand gently, his thumb brushing over the scar as though trying to erase it with that simple touch.

“I wasn’t right that night,” he murmurs, his eyes locked on your hand before you pull away. “You know I’m not…I wasn’t right.”

You chuckle and take the joint from him. “Yeah, I know.”

He’s silent beside you, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for you again but doesn’t know how. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy with unspoken words, but you don’t look at him. Instead, you take a slow drag from the joint, letting the smoke fill your lungs.

“I’m not doing that anymore,” Simon says quietly.

You don’t respond. You don’t even look at him. You smoke in silence, absentmindedly rubbing over a faded bruise on your leg.

“The past few months were nice, weren’t they?” Simon’s voice cuts through the silence, tentative, like he’s testing the waters. “I mean, we were fine, right? You were happy?”

You nod, exhaling slowly as the smoke leaves your lips. “I was happy, yeah.”

“Then let’s go back to that. I don’t wanna fall asleep without you in my arms again.” He moves closer, his hand reaching for your chin, gripping it gently, so you’ll look at him. His eyes are wide, pleading, the same look he always gives you when he’s trying to pull you back in. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Which time?

“Hey, I mean it.” He turns your head back, his grip tighter now. “I’m trying to be better for you, I really am. Just…tell me what you want me to do to make it right and I’ll do it. Anything.” 

“You know, I never wanted you to become a better person for me, Simon,” you say softly, removing his hand from your chin, and letting it fall to his side. “I wanted you to look in the mirror, and realize that you’re a fucking asshole, and change for yourself. I wanted you to realize you’re turning into the very man you always told me you’d rather die than become.”

He stares at you for a moment, then shakes his head as the mask he so carefully wears is slipping. “You love doing this, don’t you?” he mutters. “Pushing, prodding, trying to make me feel like shit.”

You curl your arms around your legs, pulling them close to your chest, your voice calm. “If the shoe fits…”

“Oh, really?” he scoffs, his voice dripping with venom. “You think you’re so much fucking better than me, don’t you? Well, let me tell you this, princess. You’re not as fucking perfect as you think you are, and if you think other people can’t see that, you’re hallucinating.”

“I don’t think I’m perfect, Simon. I wouldn’t be here if I did.” Your voice is softer than you intend, like the weed is suppressing your strength to yell. “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

“Then why the fuck are you here if you hate me so much?”

“‘Cause I’m an idiot.” You bring the joint to your lips and inhale deeply. “I’m an idiot who can’t let go. ‘Cause I still think you could be better if you just tried. If you stopped listening to your friends, if you stopped drinking, if you stopped blaming me for every shitty thing that’s happened to you in the last five years.”

He’s shaking his head before you even finish. “I don’t do that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“And your solution is to just up and leave without telling me where you are? Very mature.”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t talk to you, Simon. Every time I try, it’s like I’m talking to a wall.”

“You could talk to me if you actually wanted to,” he snaps back. “But it fits your narrative better when you can storm out, make your big scene, and go enjoy your little power trip. That’s what you do, right? It’s easier than actually being a grown-up and talking things out with me.”

“You’re delusional,” you mutter, brow furrowed.

“I’m delusional?” Simon’s laugh is hollow, his eyes flashing. “Yeah, right. I think you’re the one who’s lost it.”

You feel the words leaving his mouth before he even says them, the familiar sting of what’s next, and it’s like watching a car crash in slow motion. “Like you’re any better than me. Look who the fuck’s talking. Her mother’s daughter.”

There it is. The blow he always lands when he’s desperate to hit you where it hurts.

It’s his ace, the easiest way to throw you off-balance, to bring you down to the level where you feel vulnerable and he can control the conversation again.

You feel an old pain rising to the surface, but instead of letting it show, you smile. It’s not a real smile, but a small, knowing curve of your lips, the kind that hides everything you refuse to let him see. You’re not taking the bait this time.

“She had to go to the hospital again,” you murmur, your eyes on the joint as you bring it to your lips for one last drag. Then, you stub it out on the curb, watching the ember fade. “Thanks for asking.”

Simon’s face falls, the sharp edge of his anger crumbling away. “Shit, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

“Oh, you know,” you cut him off with a casual shrug. “It is what it is.”

“Why didn’t you–”

“‘Cause you were balls deep in a goddamn stripper, Simon,” you interrupt, your voice cold and flat. “I can’t rely on you.”

His face twists in frustration, but his eyes soften, and if you weren’t as high as you are, you’d see the little lines of guilt written all over his face. He reaches out to touch your shoulder, his hand hovering for a second before he gently rests it there.

“Baby, you know you can rely on me,” he says softly. “We have our problems, sure, but I always have your back.”

You roll your eyes, but he presses on, his voice earnest. “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s not true.”

Your eyes meet his. You know exactly what he’s referring to.

That one thing he holds onto as proof, as his trump card, the one time he truly came through for you when it mattered most. The time you thought you’d lose everything. If it’s not your histrionic mother he uses against you, it’s this.

“You can’t hold that over my head for the rest of my life,” you say, your voice steady but sharp. “You don’t get to help me when I need you most and then throw it in my face every time things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

His hand falls from your shoulder. He knows you’re right, but he doesn’t want to admit it. “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I’m agitated. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

He shifts uncomfortably beside you, his fingers twitching in his lap as he glances away. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, hesitant. “Is she gonna be alright?”

You nod, but there’s no relief in it. “Mhm.” 

There’s a long pause, heavy and suffocating, like an unseen barrier between you two. The night air is crisp, and your bare legs peeking out beneath your skirt are starting to get cold. Simon breaks the silence first.

“Baby, look at me. Please.” 

You blink slowly, your eyes struggling to focus as everything around you starts to blur. The edges of Simon’s face seem to dissolve into the night, his features soft and indistinct, almost like he’s not really there. But you find him again, his eyes, his nose, his lips, his disheveled hair. He looks…lost. It’s rare to see him this vulnerable, this unsure.

How beautiful.

“Can we go home?”

You don’t hear him, not really. All you hear is the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor echoing in your ears. It’s distant but persistent, a steady pulse that reminds you of things you’d rather forget. Then, a disembodied voice, calmly announcing that, “This could have been prevented. This is your fault.”

The words float through your mind, circling, wrapping tighter and tighter around you.

“Baby?”

You try to focus on Simon’s face again, but it’s hard to think, hard to find the words. Everything feels slow, muffled, like you’re moving underwater.

“I have to go,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, like the words are slipping away from you even as you say them.

He tenses up immediately, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean, ‘go’?”

“It means I’m tired, Simon. It means I can’t do this anymore.”

The silence that follows is deafening, like the world has suddenly come to a standstill, waiting for the inevitable fallout. You can practically feel Simon’s frustration pulsing off him.

But as you tilt your head, your gaze wandering over his face, the familiar lines of anger are there, yes. But beneath that, hidden in the set of his shoulders, in the way his hands rest uncertainly in his lap, you can sense something different. Fear. Real fear that this time, you might actually mean it. That this time, you might actually leave.

He doesn’t say anything as you stand up, your legs trembling beneath you, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of your chest. The world spins around you, dizzying, your vision blurred, and you stumble. Instinctively, Simon reaches out, steadying you with his hand.

But you shove him away immediately, your skin burning where his fingers brushed yours. You can’t let him touch you right now. If he touches you, you know you’ll crumble. You know you’ll fall back into his orbit like you always do.

And you may just be unable to afford that anymore.

But then, like a shadow moving through the haze of your high, Simon is suddenly in front of you—close, too close. His presence is disorienting, his words pouring over you before you can even process the distance he’s just closed.

“You don’t mean it,” he says, low and sure, like a statement of fact, as if he’s already decided this for you. His eyes lock onto yours, and it feels like you’re sinking into them, the pull of him as strong as ever, like gravity. He knows how to make you feel small, like your words hold no weight next to his certainty.

“I love you,” he whispers, and the tenderness in his voice makes you shiver, even though your mind screams for you to stay strong. His words wrap around you, weaving through the cracks in your resolve. His face is so close now, his breath warm against your skin, and you can’t tell if it’s the weed or the way he’s looking at you, but everything feels…slower. Softer. Like you’re slipping into a warm, dangerous comfort.

“You know how much I love you, don’t you? Yeah, I messed up, I know I did. But don’t let this ruin us. We’re too good together for that.” His voice is so gentle, hypnotic…irresistible.

“Simon…”

He steps even closer, the space between you disappearing as his hands find yours. His touch is warm, grounding, and despite the cold night air biting at your skin, his presence feels like shelter. He squeezes your hands softly, and your heart stumbles over itself.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, pleading. “Don’t walk away from us. We’re not perfect, but we belong together. You’re my family, baby. You’re all I have in this godforsaken world. You’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I matter…like I deserve love.”

It’s incredible, really, how easily he can break you down, how he can strip away all your defenses with just a few words. He knows exactly which buttons to push, how to weave his need for you into something that feels like love, something that feels like safety—even though you should know better.

He sees it, too. He sees the way your resolve falters, the way your eyes flicker with that familiar softness, and a satisfied smile curls on his lips. He knows he’s got you. He always knows when he’s won.

“C’mere,” he says gently, his hands sliding up your arms, pulling you toward him, and despite every instinct telling you to run, you let him. You let him hold you, let him wrap his arms around you like a protective shield against the world.

Your body sinks into his, your cheek resting against his chest, and you can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear. Each beat is a rhythm you’ve known for years, one that’s soothed you through your darkest moments, even as it’s caused some of them. His scent wraps around you, familiar and intoxicating, like the remnants of a home you’re desperate to return to. You let yourself drown in the warmth of him, in his steady presence that has helped you through so much. His hand strokes the back of your head, his touch soft, soothing.

It’s messed up how right it feels.

How comforting it is to be here in his arms, even when your heart is breaking inside.

“I love you,” Simon whispers again, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m so sorry for everything. I’m so fucking sorry. But you’re all I have, babe. I need you.”

You close your eyes, biting back the sob that threatens to escape. His words seep into your skin, and you want so desperately to believe him. 

You love him. God, do you love him. Even when it hurts. Even when it breaks you. And right now, with his arms around you, you miss him so deeply it feels like a hollow ache in your chest. You don’t want to be without him. He’s the only thing that’s ever felt like family to you. The only person who knows all your scars, all your flaws, and still pulls you close.

“I need you too,” you whisper, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s the truth, as ugly as it is.

Simon holds you tighter, his arms enveloping you, and for now, you let yourself sink into the comfort of it. Into the warmth of his embrace, into the way his hand rubs slow circles on your back like he’s trying to erase all the hurt, all the broken pieces between you.

You let him tell you he loves you, let him soothe you with his words, let him promise you the world, even though deep down, you know you’ll both end up in the same place again.

And before you know it, you’re slipping into the passenger seat, the door closing behind you with a soft, final click.

“You okay, darlin’?”

Joel’s voice pulls you back, the deep rumble of his question cutting through the fog of memories clouding your mind.

You blink, taking in the familiar interior of his car, the hum of the road beneath the tires, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminating his profile. The past feels too close, too heavy, pressing on your chest like you’re still stuck in it. But Joel is here, real and solid next to you, grounding you in the present.

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, your voice a little rougher than you mean for it to be. “Just tired.”

You see him glance over at you, concern evident in his eyes, but he doesn’t push. Not this time. He’s trying his hardest not to pry, not when he knows you need space. He just nods and keeps his eyes on the road, his hand resting on the gearshift, close but not touching.

“We’re almost there,” he says after a beat, his voice gentle, steady—so different from the frantic beat of your heart.

You nod, staring out the window at the darkened streets passing by. It’s quiet this late at night, and the drive back to your place feels longer than it should. The weight of the past few days lingers like a shadow, gnawing at the edges of your mind, making it hard to breathe. 

You can still see Laura’s hand on her bump, the way her sad eyes looked at you like you were in the wrong. You can feel Simon’s arms around you, the way he pulled you in even when you should’ve pushed him away. The way you couldn’t help but let him.

But you’re not that person anymore. This is different. Joel’s different.

Your stomach churns, a wave of nausea rising so suddenly it feels like the world tilts. You grip your bandaged hand tighter, shift in your seat, trying to breathe through it, but the sensation intensifies. You can taste the bitterness of the meds in your mouth, the stress squeezing your chest like a vice as cold sweat starts spreading on your skin. The movement of the car only makes it worse, and you know what’s coming.

“Joel…” you manage, your voice strained, barely above a whisper. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Huh?” His head snaps toward you, eyes widening with concern as he sees how uncomfortable you are. “Shit. Hang on.”

Without hesitation, he tightens his grip on the steering wheel and scans the street for a place to pull over. It’s late, but the road is still lined with parked cars, neon signs glowing from nearby buildings. Finally, he spots a small gap along the curb. He turns on his blinker and slows down, smoothly guiding you toward the side of the street.

You fumble desperately with the seatbelt, your fingers trembling and uncoordinated as nausea hits you like a wave. Before you can manage it yourself, Joel leans over, his hands quick but gentle as he clicks the seat belt free. “Here,” he murmurs, and the moment the belt retracts, you’re already reaching for the door handle.

The second the door is open, you lurch out onto the sidewalk, the city air thick with petrichor from the short downpour that made you leave the beach earlier. The nausea hits hard, and you bend over, retching violently onto the pavement. It’s mostly bile, bitter and burning in your throat, and each wave of sickness feels like it’s tearing through your body. You grip the door for support, your hands shaking, your body trembling from the sheer force of it.

You hate this. The vulnerability, the pain, the utter helplessness of it all.

Joel moves quietly, reaching into the glove compartment for tissues. He doesn’t crowd you, just watches carefully, his expression tight with worry. He’s there, but giving you the space you need. After grabbing the tissues, he steps out of the car, making his way around to the back. You can hear him rummaging in the trunk, though your focus remains on trying not to accidentally cough up your lungs. 

“Goddamnit,” you choke out, your voice strained as another wave of nausea forces the last of the bile from your body. It burns, raw and painful, your whole frame trembling as you lean over. Joel is next to you, hovering, trying to be there, but keeping his distance. 

“I hate this,” you whine dramatically, your head pounding as you try catching your breath. 

Once you feel like the worst is over and your stomach is settling, you straighten up and look at Joel through watery eyes. He’s smiling at you sympathetically, taking a step closer to wipe your mouth and chin with a couple of tissues.

You’re about to tell him not to touch you, but the concentrated look on his face and the deft but gentle motion of his fingers put you in a trance. He’s cleaned your mouth and wiped away your tears before you could even say anything.  

“Do you remember how hot I looked in that short red dress?” you murmur, furrowing your brow at the unexpected pain coming from your sore throat. 

“Yeah, how could I not?” Joel chuckles as he opens and hands you the water bottle he had waiting for you in his back pocket.

“Good,” you nod before swishing a mouthful of water, and spitting it out onto the concrete away from you. You take another sip, letting it cool your throat before you cap the bottle and look into Joel’s eyes. “I want you to think of that really hard and forget everything you just saw, okay?”

He just smiles at you, touching your shoulder with his warm hand. “Sweetheart, you’re vastly underestimating my attraction to you. You think a little puke’s gonna deter me? If you weren’t in pain, I’d kiss you no problem.” The way his eyebrow automatically twitches makes you roll your eyes. But it also warms your heart. 

“You’re disgusting,” you say, trying your hardest not to smile. 

“Says the girl who wiped snot off my face and kissed me while I was sweaty and gross after rolling around in bed with a fever. Guess we’re both disgusting, then.” 

“Hm,” is all you manage to get out, a tiny smirk on your face, but it falters just as quickly as you suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up again. 

“No, no, no, please, no,” you murmur, terrified, clutching the open car door for dear life. Your body tenses up, desperate to avoid another wave of sickness. You can’t do this again.

“I’m right here,” Joel whispers softly, his hand coming to rest on your back. He begins rubbing slow, soothing circles, his touch gentle and steady. There's a hint of helplessness in his voice, as if he wishes he could do more, but knows this is all he can offer right now. “It’s okay, just breathe.”

You focus on his hand, the warmth of it cutting through the cold sweat covering your skin. The nausea grips you, but Joel’s steady touch draws you back, grounding you. Your breath steadies, and when the sickness passes, you focus on the warmth of his hand, his touch comforting in a way you didn’t expect.

You’re usually not one for people being around, let alone touching you, when you’re vulnerable like this. The only time you’d allow anyone to get this close is during sex. But that’s different. Especially with Joel.

No one else gets to do the things he does with you. Not that you’ve ever admitted that to him.

He’s seen you at your most unguarded—tied up with your ankles behind your ears, covered in sweat, drooling, crying, bruised from his hands, begging for release, and confessing all the depraved things you’d let him do to you if he’d just finally let you come. He’s seen you laid bare, stripped down to nothing but raw desire and submission. And in those moments, there’s nothing but trust and desire between you two.

It’s freeing. Being able to let go of your body and mind so completely.

But this?

The idea of Joel witnessing you vomiting bile on the side of a dingy city street while your hand is bandaged, your face contorted, and your body shaking like you’ve been dragged through hell…

Not good. Especially after what happened.

You don’t know how to navigate this new territory with him, and the last thing you want is for him to see you weak like this. Not when you’re already feeling fragile.

You’re embarrassed, your cheeks burning from the humiliation of it all. You know this moment will haunt you on sleepless nights when your mind drags up every cringe-worthy memory. But right now, there’s an unexpected comfort in knowing he’s here.

“I think it’s over,” you say quietly, almost afraid to voice it, half-expecting your body to betray you again just because you dared to say it out loud. But it doesn’t. The nausea ebbs away, leaving only exhaustion in its wake. It’s over.

“Okay,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “Just take your time. Don’t rush it.”

You inhale deeply, drawing in the cool night air. The city smells faintly of petrichor and there’s a soft hum from the distant traffic, cars rolling by on the nearby streets. It all feels surreal, like the world is far away from the small bubble you and Joel are in.

The steady circles he traces on your back continue, grounding you further. You let your eyes close for a moment, soaking in the calm of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, not looking at him.

He shakes his head, his brow furrowed in worry. “You got nothing to be sorry for. Do you think you’re okay to go on now?”

You nod and swallow hard, the sting in your throat making you wince. You manage a weak, half-hearted smile, though the world still feels off-kilter. “Yeah, I think so. But if I start dry-heaving again, just do us both a favor and push me out of the moving car, okay?”

He smirks, his lips curling in that familiar, teasing way. “As if I could ever deny you something,” he says softly, his humor not quite hiding the concern in his eyes. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.”

He pauses, like he wants to say more, his mouth opening slightly as if searching for the right words, but he holds back. Instead, he just watches you carefully as you make your way back into the passenger seat, waiting until you’re settled before gently closing the door behind you.

You lean your head back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a heavy blanket as you continue your way home.

The words are there, inside you, loud, persistent, trying to break free; but you can’t. Where would you even start? What’s the point in revealing more of yourself? What good could come from it?

Nothing. That’s what.

Nothing.

You watch the city lights blur outside the window, your thoughts darker than the night. Your life feels like it’s crumbling, piece by piece, slipping through your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold on. And once again, you know—deep down—it’s your own doing. It always is. No matter how many times you try to make things right, it always ends up the same way.

When Joel finally parks in front of your apartment building, the car idles quietly, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. You can feel him looking at you, trying to find the right words. You don’t move, your mind still preoccupied with your own self-doubt.

“We’re here,” Joel says, a soft smile on his lips. He’s trying, you can tell, but you’re too far gone, too lost in your own spiral. When you don’t respond, his smile falters, but he presses on, determined to lift the weight between you.

“I was thinking…” he begins, his voice light. “I could cook for you tomorrow if you’re up for it? I remember I owe you a nice dinner, and no, it’s not just frozen pizza this time. It’s a frozen pizza with a side salad.”

He grins, hoping to coax a smile out of you, some kind of response. But you don’t laugh. You don’t even crack a smile.

Joel clears his throat and shifts slightly in his seat, his fingers drumming anxiously on the steering wheel. He’s trying to pull you out of whatever hole you’ve fallen into, but you can’t meet him halfway. You don’t have the strength.

He looks at you, his heart sinking as he takes in your sad, distant eyes. It’s like you’re not really here, like you’ve drifted somewhere far away, unreachable. How he wishes he could climb inside your mind and pull out whatever it is that’s weighing so heavily on you, take the burden for himself.

“Darlin’?” he repeats softly.

You blink, refocusing, but the smile you give him doesn’t reach your eyes. “Hm?”

“Can I cook for you tomorrow? You could come over to mine after work, or I can come here. Whatever you prefer.” There’s a hopeful smile on his face, a softness in his gaze, and the way he looks at you, almost like a puppy waiting for a treat, makes your stomach twist painfully.

You remember the dinner with Tommy and Maria, cursing yourself silently for agreeing to go. It’s not that you don’t love them—you do—but the thought of sitting through that dinner, of having that conversation with Tommy, feels like a nightmare.

“I can’t tomorrow.”

Joel’s smile falters the slightest bit, but he remains undeterred. “How about Saturday? I’ll plan something nice for us. Something I know you’ll love.”

Oh no.

You want to say it so badly it physically hurts.

You’ve been better, haven’t you? Over the past year or so. You’ve tried—really tried—to keep your cool, to express your feelings in a healthy way, or at least something close to it. You’ve worked hard to stop falling into that old mentality where uncomfortable emotions make you feel cornered and you end up lashing out. You’ve made progress. 

You’re not the same person you used to be. He’s not Simon. You don’t act like this anymore. You’ve outgrown this. Don’t do it. Don’t say–

“You’re free on a Saturday?” 

Joel blinks, the confusion clear on his face. “Yeah, like always when I’m not working,” he says, unsure where this is coming from.

“Oh,” you murmur. “Would’ve thought you already had plans with your, uh…with Jan.”

How subtle.

“I’m not planning on seeing her again,” Joel says simply.

You glance at him. “You should probably tell her that. Didn’t really seem like she knew when she was fondling you under the table.”

Joel exhales deeply and shifts slightly, turning his body toward you, trying to make sure you hear him. “I did tell her, and she does know,” he says firmly. His gaze softens as he looks at you, his voice gentler now. “Sweetheart…I’m not gonna pursue anything with her. And I wouldn’t have agreed to the date if I’d known it would hurt you.”

You shake your head, not wanting to let the conversation go where it’s headed, your thumb rubbing over your wrist brace. “Can we please not talk about this right now?” you murmur, your voice tight, barely holding it together. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. Thank you for driving me home, I’ll see you– “

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Joel interrupts, his voice firm. “We had a good time, but that’s it.”

You blink, furrowing your brow and tilting your head slightly as his words begin to sink in. He watches you, waiting for your response, but when it doesn’t come, he shifts again, trying to close the distance.

“Hey,” Joel says softly, reaching for your left hand, his fingers gently wrapping around yours. He rubs your skin with his thumb, more to soothe himself than you. “I didn’t sleep with her.”

He searches your face, waiting for a reaction, any reaction. But you just sit there, unmoved, your expression frozen in place. There’s no relief, no anger, no hint of anything. Just…nothing.

The silence stretches, and Joel’s heart sinks. He doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Maybe he thought you’d smile, maybe he even hoped you’d fall into his arms, that this would be the moment things would start to feel okay again. But you’re distant, your face unreadable.

His eyes scan yours, searching desperately for something to hold on to, and what he finds hits him like a punch to the gut.

“You don’t believe me.”

You meet his eyes for just a second longer, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips before you nervously look away and whisper, “Look, I’m, uh– I’m extremely tired right now and this close to crying, so I’m gonna go upstairs and call it a night, okay?”

But Joel doesn’t let go of your hand. His grip tightens, just a little, his voice strained. “You really don’t believe me. You think I’m lying to you.”

“I don’t– Can we please do this another time?”

“I’d love to, but I feel like it’s important that we–” 

“Joel.”

“–get this sorted out, so you don’t–”

“Joel, please.”

“–keep on thinking I’m a liar. I didn’t know you thought that ab–”

“Jesus Christ,” you snap, your voice trembling with frustration, “don’t you hear what I’m saying?” Without waiting for a response, you push open the car door and step out, the cool air hitting your skin. “I can’t fucking do this right now.”

The door slams shut behind you with a hard thud, cutting through the quiet of the parking lot.

Joel watches you for a moment, taken aback, then quickly follows, stepping out of the car. His eyes are full of concern, his brow furrowed as he watches you pace, but his voice is calm, steady, trying to reach you.

“Darlin’, I do hear you,” he says, taking a cautious step closer. “And I’m sorry, we don’t have to talk about it right now, I just…”

You spin around, exasperated. “You just what?”

“I just wanna know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you say, rubbing your temples. “Why in the world wouldn’t I be?”

He opens his mouth, trying to form a response, but before he can say anything, you cut him off, the words spilling out like a dam breaking.

“But it doesn’t even matter, okay? It doesn’t matter if I’m fine or not. I don’t have time to think about it.” Your voice cracks slightly, your throat constricting as you try to keep control. “Because now I gotta get to bed, so I can go to the office early tomorrow, ‘cause afterwards I’ll be sitting at a table with Tommy, who probably fucking hates me now. Do you have any idea how much that fucking sucks?”

Your voice lowers, the vulnerability creeping in despite your efforts to hold it back. “What if he…doesn’t want me in his life anymore?”

Joel shakes his head, vehemently. “Darlin’, that’s nonsense. He’s not mad at you. If anything, he’s mad at me. And I’m sorry for not asking you first, but you gotta understand that I was worried about you and thought this was the best solution.”

“Oh sure, yeah,” you scoff, bitterness lacing your words. “You know so much fucking better than I do. That’s it, right? Yeah, of course. Don’t you get how fucking weird this all is? It’s exactly what I was afraid of. You all talking about me behind my back, pitying me, judging me, and figuring out that you’re better off without me. That I’m not who you thought I was. That I’m not able to give you what you want.”

Joel hears the panic in your voice like he did yesterday, the way it’s rising, how your words are becoming more frantic. He gets the sense you’re not hearing him anymore, not really. You’re caught up in your own head, lost in the whirlwind of your fears. His mind flashes back to Tommy’s words. He can see it now, the way your frustration, your hurt is morphing into something darker, more overwhelming.

God, how he wishes he could just pull you into his arms right now. Hold you, protect you from the weight of everything that’s crushing you. But he knows, deep down, that he’s part of that weight. 

No matter how good his intentions might have been. 

“That’s not what happened at all,” Joel says, his voice calm, measured, even though his heart is racing. “We didn’t talk about you like that. I just needed Tommy to help me figure out where you might be, and I’m so glad he did. It was nice…sitting with you, holding your hand…”

You shake your head. “Good night, Joel.”

“Look, I– I know you’re going through something right now that makes you think I’m insincere,” he blurts out, “but I need you to know that I’m really just trying to help you.”

Your body stiffens, his words hitting a nerve. “I don’t need you to help me,” you snap. “I don’t wanna be your little damsel in distress, that’s not who I am.”

Joel flinches at the bite in your words, but he doesn’t back down. “I know that. And that’s not how I see you. I know you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.” He pauses, his eyes searching yours, desperate for you to understand.

“But allowing help from the people who love us isn’t about being weak or incapable. You may not see it right now, but I’m on your side. And if anyone’s weak it’s me, ‘cause I can’t stand seeing you in pain like this.”

You sigh deeply and murmur, “I’m gonna go now,” your voice flat as you turn toward your apartment.

Joel steps forward cautiously, not wanting to push too hard, but he can’t just let you walk away without saying more. “I get it, it’s all too much. But please, just…don’t shut me out, okay? Call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night. I’ll be here.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his promise, but you’re too drained to respond. All you can do is nod.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he says softly, his voice full of regret. “I wish I could take some of this off you, make it easier somehow. But I’m not leaving, alright? Not now, not ever. ”

You nod again, your throat too tight to speak, and turn away, walking toward your apartment. Joel watches you go with his hands falling uselessly to his sides, his heart heavy, knowing there’s so much left unsaid, but hoping—praying—you’ll let him know when you’re ready.

Wow, well done.

Sitting on your sofa, you stare blankly at the black TV as the silence of your apartment settles around you, your mind already starting its cruel commentary.

That’s for sure going to make him think you’re a mentally stable person. No, seriously, why wouldn’t he want to be with you?

The thought twists inside you like a knife, but you can’t help it. The voice in your head is relentless, mocking your every move, dissecting your behavior from earlier.

You think you’re slick, don’t you? Pushing him away so you don’t have to face your feelings. Aren’t we way past that?

You sigh deeply as if that would quiet the storm inside you, but it doesn’t. Your self-reproach lingers, heavy and biting.

Still, you drag yourself to the kitchen, forcing yourself to eat a few bites of the leftover pasta sitting in your fridge. It’s tasteless, going down like sandpaper, but you know you need something in your stomach before you can take the painkillers. Your body aches, every muscle tensing under the weight of the unresolved strain still coiled within you.

You wash the food and the pills down with iced tea, grateful for the cold sweetness, because water turns your stomach right now. The pasta, the tea, they’re just fuel—a necessary evil before you can move on and hopefully find some peace in your sleep.

After you’ve eaten, you strip off your clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water rush over you. You stand there for a while, eyes closed, trying to wash away everything. Joel’s concerned face, the hurt, the frustration, the embarrassment of how you acted. You let the water pound against your skin, hoping it’ll somehow cleanse more than just the sweat and grime from the day.

When you finally step out, you feel a little more like yourself, a little more human. Still shaky, but better. 

By the time you crawl into bed, exhaustion drags you down like an anchor. You pull the blankets tight around you, hoping to find some comfort even though the dread of the day ahead lingers. Your phone is already in your hand, and you pull up Netflix, choosing something mindless to drown out the sound of your own thoughts. The chatter of the show hums in the background, but your mind barely registers it.

Your eyes grow heavier with each passing minute, and the warmth of your bed starts to pull you toward sleep. Everything starts to blur as the fatigue takes over.

But then, just as you’re about to drift off, your propped up phone vibrates loudly against the bedside lamp. The screen lights up, a small notification appearing at the top.

Joel Miller.

Your heart skips a beat, a strange mix of relief and anxiety rising in your chest. You blink away the sleep and swipe the notification open.

It’s a voice message, and the length—four minutes—makes your heart sink. You’re not sure you can handle whatever it is he has to say right now. It feels too heavy, too soon.

Your finger hovers over the play button, your mind running wild with possibilities.

What if something happened to him? What if he’s telling you he doesn’t want to see you anymore? What if you scared him off for good? Why else would the message be so long?

Before you can spiral further, another notification pops up.

Joel: Sleep well, baby 😘 

You blink, staring at his message, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. He’s being sweet. Maybe this isn’t what you’re bracing for.

You take a deep breath, your heart still beating a little too fast, and press play.

At first, there’s a small pause, like he���s gathering his thoughts. Then you hear his voice coming through the speaker, soft and gentle, the familiar rasp of it cutting through the quiet of your bedroom.

“Hi darlin’. It’s me, Joel…Miller…obviously.” 

Your smile widens. He’s such a dork.

“I know it’s late…and you’re probably already in bed. But I, uh…I wanted to say something. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and I didn’t want you to go to sleep without hearing this.”

He sounds like he always does, calm, collected, but he’s being careful with his words. You shift under the covers, feeling more awake now, your body attuned to every note in his voice.

“I know you’ve been going through a lot on your own, and I don’t wanna make it worse by pushing or prying where I shouldn’t. But I just want you to know…I’m here. I’m here for you, no matter what. You don’t have to handle it alone, okay?”

There’s a small pause, and you hear him exhale, like he’s letting go of something he’s been holding in for too long.

“I don’t know if I always say the right things, and God knows I’ve messed up plenty…but you mean a lot to me. More than I can put into words right now. And I, uh, don’t expect you to have all the answers. Hell, I don’t even know if I do. But I wanna be there with you, figure it out together…if you’ll let me.”

Another deep breath.

“You’re never not on my mind, sweetheart, and I just…wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I felt it the first time I saw you, you know? You stood there, the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. And then you looked into my eyes. You looked into my eyes and that was it for me.”

Joel’s voice softens even more, almost like he’s afraid you’ll drift off before he’s finished. “I was thinking about Saturday, too. I got something in mind that I think’ll be good for both of us. Nothing big, just…I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a brief silence on the line as if he’s gathering himself, and then you hear it—the faint strum of a guitar. Your breath catches in your throat.

He’s playing for you.

His voice, low and gentle, hums the opening notes of a country tune you’ve never heard before. The sound drifts over you, warm and comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket of soft clouds and something that feels like home.

You close your eyes, letting the music take you, and as Joel begins to sing, his voice carries a depth of emotion that reaches deep inside you. The lyrics flow, full of a quiet tenderness, and you sink into the sound, letting it wash away your troubles:

“I’m just a lonesome traveler, Drifting down this road, But darlin’, when I’m near you, I know I’m not alone.”

You just listen, your heart swelling with the softness of it, with the fact that Joel is doing this for you. Never in a million years did you see this coming. 

The song continues, the melody sweet and simple, his voice lulling you further into a sense of calm. It feels like everything else fades away—the weight of your past, the uncertainty of the future—and all that’s left is this moment, this gentle connection between you and him.

As he reaches the end of the song, his voice drops to an almost-whisper:

“But darlin’, when I hold you, I know I’ve found my home.”

The final note lingers in the air of your bedroom, and for a moment, you just lie there, your heart full, your body completely relaxed. You can barely keep your eyes open now, the edges of sleep tugging at you.

Still, you gather all of your remaining energy to text him back. You need to.

You: I’ll bring snacks on Saturday

You: Ever thought about switching careers btw? Cowboy boots, a hat and you’d make a fortune. Groupies, fame, rich old ladies letting you run wild with their credit cards…

You’ve barely pressed send when Joel responds. 

Joel: Groupies, huh?

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. Another buzz.

Joel: Nah, sweetheart. My music comes from the heart. It’s only for the people I love. Not for anyone else.

Thank you for reading! previous | Series Masterlist | AO3 | next

taglist: @dugiioh @eviestevie-14 @ghostofzion @joeldjarin @jupiter-soups

@koshkaj-blog @missladym @paleidiot @pattwtf

@pedritoferg @runningmom94 @serenadingtigers @sofiparallel @staywildflowahchild

@the-orange-tabby-cat @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods @yassspose @rarachelchel

@cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @am-3-thyst @joelinawrites @purpleprincess75

[abyssal-ilk]

A thing that people always forget when chastising vivienne for being so apathetic to cole is the fact that she is a circle mage. People whom are forced to learn that you should not trust demons nor spirits or else they’ll put you down AS A RITE OF PASSAGE. Think back to what Mouse says in DAO. “Keep your wits about you, mage; true challenges never end.” She knows that for the rest of her life, demons will tempt her and try to possess her. She has seen mages turn into abominations, knows how they get them- of course she will support templars who have the skills to subdue them. And now to have a spirit scurrying around without supervision what is the last bastion against a Tevinter Sidereal… I too would be worried as hell if i were a circle mage.

EXACTLY!

not only is vivienne a circle mage, but there are also a few other factors that play into it that make cole so untrustworthy to her. vivienne underwent her harrowing when she was young– in fact, she was the youngest mage to have ever gone through a harrowing and survived it. we don't get to learn much about what she went through during her harrowing, but we DO have this banter between her and cole:

harrowings on their own are already traumatic enough, and with the added insistence from the circles that all spirits and demons are dangerous (which we see vivienne repeat above, "all it can do is harm."), it makes complete sense on why vivienne would be so put-off by cole! especially given how kind he is! she thinks that kindness is a ploy, and why wouldn't she if her harrowing was anything like the warden's in DAO?

and then that's not even acknowledging the fact that cole isn't just ANY spirit. he's the ghost of the spire. he's killed mages before and admits to doing so. and even though he was wrong to do so and realizes that what he did was wrong, that does not mean that vivienne automatically has to suddenly be okay with what cole did. of course vivienne takes cole being the ghost of the spire harder than everyone else in the inner circle. she is the only circle mage there. it is entirely plausible that she sees cole as a threat and views herself as being the person most able to recognize that threat because of what she was taught. it's why she struggles so much to empathize with cole on any level.

ive already talked about this briefly on another post, but cole is also fairly antagonistic to vivienne as well. it's easy to look at their dynamic and think that, well, cole is just trying to help vivienne but he... isn't? his version of helping her is prying into her thoughts without permission and continuing to do so even after she has shown clear discomfort with it.

cole drags her worst memories and thoughts out publicly in front of not just vivienne, but the rest of the party and anyone else who may happen to be standing near them. it's DANGEROUS, what he does, because vivienne is a player of the game. her position at court is a precarious one, and to have someone like cole who can just pick into her brain whenever he wants with no repercussions? it's scary! it's scary because vivienne has no defense against it, especially if the player supports cole and downplays the harm he does. and what can vivienne do about it? she's an ally of the inquisitor, and that makes her cole's ally by proxy. telling cole to stop doesn't work, insulting him doesn't work, trying to get the inquisitor to intervine doesn't work– nothing seems to deter cole.

which is why THIS piece of dialogue is so important to me:

despite everything i've said above, vivienne still cannot help but care about cole. no matter how dangerous he is, no matter what she was raised to believe, she still cares about him and worries for him. their dynamic is SO interesting to me and i really wish people dug into it a bit more rather than just dismiss it as vivienne being needlessly cruel to cole. it's so much more than that.

[sencrose]

— READING BETWEEN THE LINES

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

tags: dc, noncon, fingering, forced orgasm, pwp, use of pet names (sweetheart), suguru being condescending lol

wc: 1.4k

summary: Breaking up with Suguru doesn't go as well as you had hoped.

a/n: idk what possessed me ngl! writing warmup that got out of hand ig lol. dividers by @/adornedwithlight! ao3 link here.

This is always the worst part, the anticipation of the unknown. You dragged Suguru into a private corner of the monastery, stating that you needed to talk to him about something important. Part of you hopes he won’t notice that something is clouding your mind, but another part of you knows how perceptive he can be – of shifting eyes, a nervous shake of the leg. Anything he sees can be interpreted and used against you. It’s just too much for you, to constantly live under his judgment and surveillance.

Once inside the room, you ask Suguru to sit down in an armchair in the corner, because when he’s at a lower height you can convince yourself he’s not nearly as intimidating as he actually is. He almost looks normal when you look down at him. But then his amber eyes catch yours, and you feel like a deer in headlights.

Breath, hold, let it out slowly.

“I think we should see other people,” you say, nearly hushed.

Suguru takes a moment to pause, before looking up at you with a smile. It’s not the reaction you wanted.

“You think?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, “you wouldn’t do all of this to tell me you’re thinking of doing something.”

He’s right; you don’t like that. It only makes you uneasier, inhale shakily and exhale just as unstable.

“We should see other people,” you sigh, a knot tightening in your chest. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, opting to stare down at the ornate patterns on the carpet, anywhere but him.

“Where’s your spirit?” he asks, pouting and high-pitched, as if he’s talking down to a child, “you sound horribly unconvincing.”

You were foolish to ever think you would have an advantage against Suguru in a war of words. He’s always a few steps ahead of you, quick to retort any thought that takes days for you to mold and craft. Still, you do your best. This would be the last time anyways.

“W-we should see other people,” you repeat, attempting to sound resolute only for your voice to betray you, wavering like a tree branch in a windstorm.

“We both see plenty of people here,” he says, leaning back into the chair to sink into the fabric, his posture even more relaxed than before, “I don’t see why you dragged me in here to say this.”

For the first time, frustration overwhelms your nerves, swirls in your chest and manifests into something loud and impulsive.

“Suguru, I’m breaking up with you,” you blurt out. 

An uneasy silence permeates through the room, and you feel the need to smother it. Unfortunately, any semblance of a coherent thought, much less a sentence, eludes you.

“Tell me what you really want.” Suguru says, the first to break it. You start to think the silence was better.

“I am.”

“No, you aren’t. I know you aren’t,” he says so matter-of-factly you’re close to believing him, “say it again.” Suguru shifts in the seat until he’s leaning forward, hands intertwined and planted in his lap.

“N-No, you’re just messing with me,” you say, backing away from him.

“That should be my line,” he sighs, standing from his seat. He takes a step towards you and your heart trembles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just-”

“Nothing’s wrong but you want to break up?” he interrupts, crossing his arms as he glares at you.

“No, I mean-” you fumble your words, unsure how to mitigate the situation. Suguru takes another step towards you, and you take another one back.

“Mean what?” The corners of his lips upturn, and you both know he has you cornered.

You stand there, finally at a loss for words. Even if you were able to articulate your thoughts, you know that Suguru would twist them in his favor. 

“See? You don’t even know what you want,” he says, condescension dripping from his words before he softens his tone into something gentler. The way you would speak to a wounded animal. “But it’s okay, because I do.”

Suguru takes the opportunity to close the distance, taking your hand into his and pulling you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and you writhe under his touch, desperately pushing him away. But all you get is an arm latched around your waist, the sensation of your bodies pressed together in a suffocating heat. His lips finally part from yours, and you rush to turn your face away from his.

“Suguru, please stop,” you whimper.

“Why? You’ll just lie again,” he answers, his hand reaching for your chin to turn you towards him, “don’t you know how much that hurts me?” he asks, voice too sweet to be genuine.

You do your best to keep your eyes away from him, the only form of protest you can afford right now. He’s unphased by it, releasing his grip on your chin to lift the hem of your skirt and trace the undeniable wet spot on your underwear.

“And it seems like your body is more honest than your words,” he whispers dangerously low in your ear, as if it’s a dirty secret he had the privilege of uncovering. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction but you don’t have much of a choice. 

He pulls your underwear down, lets it fall unceremoniously onto the floor. Before long, his fingers find your clit and you wince at the contact. You bite down on your lips when he starts drawing lazy circles, not wanting to give him any more ammunition to use against you. 

“You don’t actually want to leave, do you?” he whispers sweetly, and it makes your breath catch for all the wrong reasons. His fingers slowly but surely pick up the pace, and it gets harder to choke back your moans. You attempt to maneuver yourself away from his touch, but that only makes him press himself harder against you, tightening his grip against your waist. 

“You’re just misbehaving because I haven’t given you enough attention, right? Then I’ll give you all the attention you want.”

“Suguru, please, I don’t want this,” you cry, and it’s nowhere close to convincing, too high-pitched and whiny.

“We’ve got to work on your communication skills, sweetheart. They’re a hallmark of a good relationship, you know. And I only want the best with you,” he coos, almost songlike. His fingers build up to a steady pace and you feel your muscles involuntarily tighten, prepare yourself for the climax to come. 

“We can even try it now. Tell me, how does this feel?” He slips a finger in and you writhe under his grip.

“Suguru, stop!” you squeal, tears forming in your eyes, making the colors of the room blend and blur together. 

“Don’t think that’s the right answer,” he says in that patronizing tone again, and you can hear the pout in his voice. As punishment he slips in another finger, and within moments he’s bullying the spot that has you crying from pleasure like he’s done so many times before. Your fingers grip around his arm, nails digging into his skin and leaving crescent indents in his skin, but Suguru is nothing if not determined.

“I just don’t see why you’d want to leave when I do all of this for you.” The arm around your waist finally releases, only for his other hand to trace the curves of your body until it reaches your clit. He starts building the pressure again, slow circles to contrast against the rapid pace of his fingers.

Your breathing destabilizes as your muscles tense up again against your will. You know you’re getting close, which means Suguru knows as well. 

“Let it all out for me, sweetheart,” And you do, body shivering and walls clamping around his finger like a vice. The rush of heat and pleasure running through you is too much, and you fall back onto old habits, closing your eyes and moaning his name like a mantra as he guides you through your climax. Suguru only pulls himself out of you once your breathing stabilizes, when you finally come out of your postorgasmic daze and the tears start running down your cheeks.

He gently holds your face, rubbing the tears with his thumb before laying a soft kiss on your cheek.

“If this is what you wanted, you should’ve told me. Spare me the theatrics next time, okay?”

[darlingofdots]

What is a romance novel, really?

So far, the response to this post has mostly shown me that a lot of people don't actually know what a romance novel is, and that's okay! I don't expect everyone to know! However, for my own peace of mind, I am going to do my best to explain what we mean when we talk about romance novels, where the genre comes from, and why you should not dismiss the pastel cartoon covers that are taking over the display tables at your nearest chain bookshop. Two disclaimers up front: I've been reading romance novels since I was a teenager, and have dedicated the majority of my academic career to them. I'm currently working on my PhD and have presented/published several papers about the genre; I know what I'm talking about! Secondly, all genres are fake. They're made up. But we use these terms and definitions in order to describe what we see and that's a very important part of science, including literary studies!

The most widely used definition of "romance novel" to this day is from Pamela Regis' 2003 A Natural History of the Romance Novel, in which she states that "A romance novel is a work of prose fiction that tells the story of the courtship and betrothal of one or more [protagonists]."* People also refer to the Romance Writers of America's "a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending" and another term you will see a lot is "Happily Ever After/Happy For Now," which posits that the protagonists must be in a committed and happy relationship at the end of the novel in order to count as a romance novel. That's it. That's what a romance novel is.

Of course it's a bit more complex than that; Regis also posited the Eight Essential Elements which describe the progression of the love plot over the course of the book, and there's a similar breakdown from Gwen Hayes in Romancing the Beat that is intended more as writing advice, but both of these are really useful for breaking down how this narrative structure works. My personal favourite part of the Eight Elements is that the romance opens with a definition of the society in which the protagonists exist, which is flawed in a way that oppresses them, and then the protagonists either overcome or fix it in a way that enables them to achieve their HEA. A lot of social commentary can happen this way!

It can also be a bit difficult to pin down what exactly counts as a "central love story" because who decides? A lot of stories have romance arcs in them, including dudebro action movies and noir mystery novels, but you would never argue that the romance is the central plot. A lot of romance novels have external plots like solving a mystery or saving the bakery. A useful question to ask in this case is whether the external plot exists for its own sake or to facilitate the romance: when Lydia runs off with Wickham in Pride & Prejudice, it's so that Lizzie can find out how much Darcy contributed to saving her family from scandal and realise her own feelings for him. The alien abduction in Ice Planet Barbarians happens specifically so the abducted human women can meet and fall in love with the hunky aliens. There are definitely grey areas here! Romance scholars argue about this all the time!

I have a suspicion that a lot of people who responded to the post I linked above are not actually romance readers, which is fine, but it really shows the lack of understanding of what a romance novel is. I have a secondary suspicion that the way we have been talking about books has contributed to this miscategorisation in a lot of people's minds, because especially with queer books we will often specifically point out that this fantasy book is f/f! This dystopian novel has a gay love story! This puts an emphasis on the romance elements that are present in a book when a lot of the time, the romance arc is just flavouring for the adventure/uprising/heist and we are pointing it out only because its queerness makes it stand out against other non-queer titles. It makes sense why we do this, but there is SUCH a difference between "a sci-fi book with an f/f romance arc" and "an f/f sci-fi romance." I could talk for hours about how the romance genre has evolved alongside and often in the same way as fanfiction and how there are codes and tropes that come up again and again that are immediately recognisable to romance readers, even down to phrases and cover design, and how romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre that functions in a very specific way because of that evolutionary process. The same way that dedicated fantasy readers can trace the genealogy of a given text's influences ("this writer definitely plays a lot of DnD which has its roots in the popularity of Tolkien, but they're deliberately subverting these tropes to critique the gender essentialism"), romance readers are often very aware of the building blocks and components of their books. These building blocks (that's what tropes are, lego pieces you put together to create a story!) often show up in other genres as well, especially as part of romantic arcs, but that doesn't make every book that features Only One Bed a romance novel, you know?

Romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre and I really highly recommend exploring it for yourself if you haven't. I personally read mostly Regency/Victorian historicals and I've been branching out into specifically f/f contemporaries, and there are so many authors who are using the romance framework to tell beautiful, hard-hitting stories about love and family while grappling with issues of discrimination, disability, mental health, capitalism, you name it. The genre has a very specific image in a lot of people's minds which makes them resistant to it and it's not entirely unjustified, but there is so much more to it than Bridgerton and repackaged Star Wars fanfiction!**

*the original text said "heroines" but Regis later revised this. There is a very good reason for the focus on the heroine in the first couple waves of romance scholarship, but that's a different post!

**neither of these are a bad thing and part of that genealogy that I mentioned earlier.

[the-way-astray]

okay wait if you don’t mind me asking why don’t you like incorrect quotes?

anon, i swear this was not meant to be this long

my reasons are 100% subjective. over the years, i've dabbled in several different fandoms. and i find that the same incorrect quote format is used to describe relationships between characters in different series that i find to not be alike at all. for example, i've seen multiple of the same incorrect quote formats used for both percabeth and sokeefe, when i don't find the relationships to be that similar to one another at all. it's just that people see one dimension of sophie and annabeth (let's say smart) and one dimension of percy and keefe (let's say funny) and then the entire incorrect quote becomes about that. i find sokeefe and percabeth to be two entirely different relationships with few things in common (which i've talked about), but the incorrect quotes flatten them to those qualities only and i don't like that.

the sokeefe-percabeth thing is just an example, by the way, one i picked because i feel most people i'm talking to would understand it, but i've also seen the same incorrect quote formats used to describe relationships like jurdan or kanej . . . and if you've read tfota or soc you know how drastically dissimilar jurdan or kanej are to either sokeefe or percabeth (and each other). and i find that these indirect comparisons drawn between relationships like this flattens certain characters quite a bit. this is how we get stuff like "sokeefe is basically kotlc percabeth" and stuff like that.

then, once a character has been given a "role" (i use the term loosely) they have to occupy all the aspects that come with that "role". so then they're only allowed to be that "role" in the incorrect quote, even if the quote requires them to say/do things they would never say/do, because they've been slated into that role based on that one aspect. take this quote for example:

keefe has been slated into the role of "one that has a crush on sophie" for the purposes of this particular quote. but keefe doesn't ramble like this. he doesn't like his dad and would never discuss a crush on sophie with him (but this one i'm not that mad about since you could as easily change cassius to ro or something). he doesn't use exaggerated metaphors to describe things and he doesn't speak in purple prose. he does a pretty good job hiding his crush and would never inadvertently reveal it like this. do you see what i mean? because of the fact that the format requires him to be "one with a crush on sophie", he now has to fulfill all the other aspects the format requires, even though they don't apply to him. and it no longer feels like keefe. it flattens him down to this one aspect.

i feel like this flattening aspect of incorrect quotes does have a (very small, sort of indirect) effect on the way characters are perceived in fanon. and i don't like it? it's very weird to me. so i prefer to stay away from it. (best examples i can think of are cardan and kaz, who are both morally gray, but lots of incorrect quotes portray them as hopelessly in love with their love interests or malewives, and while that's true, them being slated into that role for the purpose of the incorrect quote often makes them out to be the kind that would doodle hearts around names in notebooks or blush or be in that sort of cutesy-teenager-with-a-crush kind of romance. and . . . uh . . . yeah, they love jude and inej, but that's like. not at all what either relationship is like. it's just not.)

also some incorrect quotes are so desperate to slate characters into certain "roles", as i call them, that they forsake crucial aspects of the character in the process, or actively make them do/say things that go against something that is a core aspect of that character. and i don't like the way the quote is willing to misinterpret something so crucial to the character for the sake of the incorrect quote exemplifying something much less important like "the funny one" or "the one with a crush on ___".

incorrect quotes also have a tendency to portray what a character actually wants to do, rather than how they would realistically behave, given the circumstances. take this quote (and ignore the weird anti-sophitz-ness for the moment, i'm trying to make a point):

in canon, it's kind of a point that sophie "isn't aware" of her crush on keefe, so to speak. she knows she has a crush on fitz. she may subconsciously want to kiss keefe, but remember, she thinks she likes fitz. so this incorrect quote just frustrates me because that's not what sophie would do!!!!!!! she would kiss fitz. actually, she would get all nervous and blushy and try to worm her way out of it. and if this is a post-stellarlune quote, and she knows she likes keefe, she wouldn't address fitz directly like that??? she would trying so hard not to look at fitz because omg omg omg i have to kiss my new boyfriend in front of my old boyfriend who appears to still not be over me. like the quote requires you to change fundamental aspects of sophie's personality/behavior to buy it. my analysis brain can't handle that. my problem is that i can't enjoy the quote for the quote, because my brain is always instead picking apart how un-character the incorrect quote feels.

having said all of that, i fully understand that anyone who likes incorrect quotes or engages with them frequently knows all this. i don't think you all are stupid. obviously keefe would never say something like that first example i showed in canon. that's understood! the point is to make fun of his crush on sophie. i get it. it's all in good fun. i just prefer not to engage with incorrect quotes because the flattening aspect makes me personally want to scream that the character would never do or say that, because at this point the character doesn't even feel like the character, so what even is the point of the quote anymore??? and then i get stuck in a loop.

and like i said in my original tags, i would never want to completely get rid of incorrect quotes. they're easy to make, fun, easily digestable, and in general sort of a safe way to get started in fandoms. they're the safety net of fandoms, and i think they really are crucial for smaller/more obscure fandoms where nobody wants to do hardcore analysis stuff but people still want to talk about their favorite media. so i think, for the purposes they fulfill, they're alright.

[welivetodream]

✨ My BSD hot takes/unpopular opinions ✨:

1. Identifying BSD characters as Queer, is not problematic. STOP being so Heteronormative. Gay characters are not gonna kill you.

If I see another "BuT tHe ChArAcTeRs nEvEr SaId tHeY aRe GaY" I would bomb you 💣/j

2. Skk/SSKK/Fyolai/other popular ships, exist because people like it. If you don't ship them, don't engage with their content. Not all shippers act crazy and toxic. Stop blaming everything on shippers.

3. Atsushi/Kyouka is problematic, stop justifying it with "only 4 year age gap". Kyouka is a CHILD, ship her with Kenji if you want. Atsushi, like a normal 18 year old would never look at a highschool freshman and date her. Even if they date in the future, he knew her when she was younger and they had a sibling like dynamic. Lucy is a way better love interest to Atsushi (Don't know if this is an unpopular opinion tho, but I saw some people justifying it 😐😐😐)

4. DAZAI IS NOT EVIL. HE IS FAR FROM EVIL. He is, despite being super popular and the face of BSD, the most mischaracterized and villified character. Morally grey characters exist??!!!

5. Mori is a way worse person than Dazai ever was.

6. PM members get a free pass for any heinous crime they commit by being hot or babygirl-ified (still love them tho, we do not often discuss how bad their actions have been, you can like criminals and acknowledge they are criminals in fiction. I would add DoA to this too, but it's worse with the PM)

7. Akutagawa's abuse of Kyouka shouldn't be forgotten just because Dazai abused Akutagawa.

8. Mori emotionally manipulated and abused Dazai when he was a teen. Just because it wasn't physical, doesn't mean it was nothing.

9. Atsushi is NOT a soft boy, he is way bitter, salty and sarcastic than we give him credit

10. Poe is important to Ranpo and their friendship/relationship is wholesome as hell

11. Ranpo and Yosano's friendship is way better than them being in a relationship in the future

12. FukuFuku is better than Fukumori (imo!!!!)

13. Buying real authors work after watching BSD is actually a really good thing, since more Gen z kids (or other people) will read classics

14. There are layers to Atsushi and Akutagawa relationship/rivalry, and they have the MOST important relationship (not meaning romantic, just in general) in the entire canon.

15. Kunikida and Yosano could be a power couple

16. Fyodor is not a great villain (yet)

17. Nikolai CARRIES the DoA

18. Sigma shouldn't be in the ADA, he needs a happy home, family and some time to adjust to normal life

19. Q and Elise are both underused characters and could become a great dynamic

20. Ango deserves more love, the amount of pressure and stress he deals with is INSANE

21. It's OKAY if everyone joins the fandom for Dazai or skk (I did at first too!!)

22. Higuchi is annoying as hell. I do not get her hype, I like her but not as much as most people (just personal opinion, do not flame me 😭)

23. Everyone in The Guild is forgettable or boring (except Fitzgerald, Poe and Lucy. I like Louisa, but I forget her all the time)

24. Hetero ships are just not that great/interesting in BSD to me 🤷🏻‍♀️ (except maybe AtsuLucy or rare pairs) and female characters are not best utilised, I wish they play more major roles (can't wait for Agatha to arrive!!)

25. Some fan theories/arts get the story better than "canon" stuff at times. Fanon is NOT always the worst (sometimes enjoyable when the canon gets too dark or sad)

26. Toxic ships are okay in fiction as long as they are legal. Humans like toxic things, we consume it like junk food 💅🏻

(These are all personal opinions of mine and do not matter. Feel free to disagree. But, do not hate or be toxic!!!! 😇😇😇😇)

(PS: I compiled all these because of posts I have seen in, Reddit, Pinterest, Twitter and sometimes Tiktok. These aren't really abt you Tumblr folks. I meant to post this on reddit but did not have the courage or mental strength lol)

[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Zou (part 11)

Let's continue the "love is a hurricane" tale after the small break :D This time we finish up Zou and get ready for hard decisions to be made and undesired seperation approaching!

A reminder that in Punk Hazard Luffy immediately picked up on Joker and inquired Law to know more, because he realized Law is somehow connected to that person. Picture below for comparison's sake:

But on Zou Lufy learns Sanji is connected to Germa and he doesn't care nor does he want to know anything more. Even Nami is slightly taken aback (though it's Luffy's usual behaviour here!), but that's also because she realized for the first time that Sanji was lying all this time to them and she doesn't know what to think about it.

Law is getting special treatment, basically became Luffy's special interest, and he has no idea about it!

Again, Luffy intends to go alone and do his best not to declare the war on Big Mom in the process. That's because he has his alliance with Law and they can't afford an extra side conflict on the way. Now, would Luffy care about any of that, if it wasn't Law he was having an alliance with? My bet's still on "no".

Still remembering Neko Mamushi's name and that's because he knows seeing Neko Mamushi means he will see Heart Pirates and Law if he sticks around, heh.

Now let's look at things from Law's perspective, even if just for the laughs, shall we? He went to see his Heart Pirates, spent some time with them, then relayed a message to Luffy through Pedro that they're waiting for Strawhats to join them (because remember? Heart Pirates can't leave the whale forest!). Law then learns that either 1. Luffy never joins them 2. Pedro tells him Luffy said "later".

So the result is that Law arrives here seeking Luffy (just like Luffy wanted him to, btw), but I wonder what he might be thinking... "how dare you, Mugiwara-ya, I told you to come and you have more important matters?!" or perhaps "Are they in some kind of trouble? Mugiwara-ya is always in trouble, so it's not unlikely, maybe I should go and check things out". Personally, my bet is on a mix of both, seeing his rather unhappy face above when he looks at Strawhats doing some shanenigans with Nekomamushi haha.

And this is the scene that welcomes Law as he finds Luffy and his crew. He's clearly confused by whatever is happening in front of him. And then Luffy notices him like *immediately* and greets him with huge enthusiasm. Because of course he would, he was trying to be so brave and not miss him every second they're apart, and yet that immediate reaction proves us that Law was constantly on his mind anyway and his eyes were always looking around to spot him the very moment he will arrive. Which is exactly what happened.

Now let's take a look at Law curiously holding his sword in both hands, because there's a story there, shown to us only through visual language. His sword was resting on his arm, but for some reason he grabs it after he witnessed all the chaos. Just a moment later it will return back to his shoulder again. Why?

Just take a look at this:

Remember how he did the same thing much, much earlier in same arc? He grabbed his sword when he sensed danger or a stranger approaching them (just like Zoro). This is how he prepares to unshield his Kikoku so he can be ready to attack, if neccessary, but he unshields his sword only when he feels malignant intent. A good swordsman is always on alert, after all!

And he does the exactly same thing when he looks at the commotion around Luffy and Nekomamushi (but he's a bit more cautious here). He sees the ruckus and his first instinct isn't to question Luffy or scold him for causing trouble. Nah, none of that. His very first reaction is to take his weapon and prepare to fight, because if Luffy is in danger, it's his duty to help! Ain't that freaking sweet? :D and all of that shown without any words needed, heh.

"I came to give you an introduction", he says while his eyes aren't even visible, so we know he's telling us bullshit :D (also notice, the sword is back on his shoulder, because Luffy's cheerful greeting put his mind at ease that he doesn't have to attack anyone and that everything is alright!)

Heart Pirates look like they lowkey rehearsed that introduction pose. They remind me of heroes from some Power Rangers show. I wonder if that's how wacky Sora Warrior of the Sea comic is :D because we can expect that if Law is a fan, all of his North Blue crew is as well. They look so goofy and cheerful in comparison to his stoic, cool and broody energy.

Luffy's like "yo!!", because he actually met them already, this is his second time when he sees them and had some interaction with them at Zou, so it's not like he woud need introduction, lol (sneaky Luffy is a mood, I swear). But why would Luffy care if he got a proper introduction or not anyway? After all he didn't do one for Law either! In fact I don't think Luffy ever did any introductions before.

And it's true ever since the beginning of the manga. Nami didn't get introduced to Zoro, Zoro didn't get introduced to Nami (he had to ask her himself who she is!). The best they can get is "this is going to be our crewmate/navigator", no names included. Lol. That also explains why Zoro is so used to Luffy's crap and in Punk Hazard he just stays around Law and doesn't question it, until the guy goes towards Sunny, lol. Just see it for yourself below:

And all of this happened despite Law asking Luffy to "let the rest of his crew know". Usually Luffy not making any introductions slips our minds, because whenever new crewmate appears they're all together so it's not even an issue. But sometimes, we get reminded Luffy didn't really learn manners and this is one of those examples. Law remembers the offense though.

Especially after Luffy told him he would do that. But he never did. LOL.

Just look at those frames right next to each other. Luffy tells them to "get along" (nakayoku), and Law, after refusing to introduce his Hearts crew to Luffy, says the same line but with negation "You don't have to get along". That's his revenge, right there. Luffy didn't introduce his crew to him, so Law is not gonna introduce his Hearts to him either. Ba dum tss.

Luffy is completely unaffected by it, because it's Luffy. The ones who are actually affected are Hearts and they boo their captain for it. They call him out for his bullshit behaviour, which makes me think that 1. they're allowed to complain whenever they feel like (around timeskip they also complained to Law that they want to go already to the New World). 2. Law usually DOES give introductions, because they're completely dumbfounded by this situation.

You all still need more proof this was Law's revenge? :D And if you believe this now, I need to remind you that my deduction about Law's nicknames for Strawhats all the way back in part 4 of this analysis series is probably true as well: he did not recognize Franky, Usopp and Brook, because the last time he checked on Strawhats was around Sabaody and when they returned after timeskip he was already stuck in Punk Hazard, not able to read the newest info on them.

Now let's take a look at this scene, in which Law scolds Luffy for "letting" Sanji go with Big Mom. On the surface level, nothing unusual, right? After all it's just yet another scene in which Law is worried and scolding Luffy. Except that Law never did that before when it comes to Luffy's own crew. Law knows this is an alliance, Luffy is the captain of his crew, he's the one responsible for them, not Law. In Punk Hazard Law made sure to always leave things up to Luffy when it concerned his crew, always doing the "relay the message to your crew" attempt and never telling them anything directly.

But here, in Zou, Law is openly scolding Luffy *in front of his own crew* about the situation with Sanji, a Strawhat. Honestly, it seems like he's stepping here completely out of line. It's almost like Law is part of Strawhats and has the right to be angry at the situation, not just voice his concern as an ally. This is the moment that Law starts seriously treating Strawhats like they are his second crew, imo. There's no artificial distance anymore, no "I'm just allied with them, I have to know my place" frame of mind. Whatever concerns Strawhats is clearly Law's problem as well now. It kinda started already in Dressrosa, when Law told half of the crew to just sail off to Zou, but then the situation was different, they were in danger, it could be seen as emergency situation. Zou though? No excuses here, Mr Trafalgar Law. Are you sure this is just an alliance to you?

Law finally voices his real thoughts here, because he doesn't want Zou to suffer even more than it did already (it is homeland of his friend Bepo after all). And he's throwing back the same argument Luffy threw at him in Dressrosa! Luffy looks like he's actually at a loss here and no wonder, because what can they do? Let's look at things from Luffy's perspective. His crewmate is stuck with Big Mom, they have to go to Kaido but can't yet, and they also can't stay here at Zou because they're putting minks at risk. Their options are very limited and situation is very complicated, Law made sure Luffy understands it. But their talk is interrupted by the minks so we will never know in which direction Law actually wanted to take it (we can tell from Luffy's face that Luffy is not gonna offer any actual feedback here). Or do we have a hunch about that actually?

Let's look at the title of the chapter, with Vivi on the cover (we all know she actually wanted to tell Luffy to "take her with him", but she had responsibilities to the country she also deeply loved, so she's also relevant for this chapter's title!), Luffy asks Pekoms to take him with him... and curiously enough Law shouts at Luffy, making the exactly same face expression. Maybe that's the direction he actually wanted the talk to go? It would fit his personality ngl, that he wouldn't want to leave Luffy to go alone to another Emperor's territory, without any decent plan. Especially because we know how much he worries for him all the time.

Feasting, Strawhats and Hearts bonding happily together. Even Pandaman joined in! Not Law though lol.

Ninja time :D Strawhats really push the agenda that there's no shame in loving ninjas and other cool stuff. They have so many requests too! That must have influenced Law that it's alright to voice his own request as well (but he waits with it, hoping maybe someone else can voice it first, so he doesn't have to, haha). He's murmuring it and it fits him so well, because he's not one to admit too openly how much he wants to actually see it, which makes this scene all the more special. Strawhats, and especially Luffy, really have a good influence on him. Even Zoro joins in, right after Law, probably to show support like a good bro he is.

And Raizou starts his show from Law's request! What a great guy Raizou is <3 Law's impressed face is so funny, especially in comparison to Luffy's and Usopp's, haha.

Law is so surprised at being asked for the help as well. His eyes are like "what? why me as well?". As much as Law likes to be appreciated and recognized as the captain of his own crew, he also doesn't really expect the extra attention he sometimes is getting. Unlike Luffy who is more or less used to it already.

Luffy, surprisingly enough, proposes Momo an alliance. They're not beating up Kaido instead of samurai, they're cooperating together. What's important here to note is that Luffy did that because Momo was begging him, like he's inferior to Luffy, almost like a servant. Luffy stops him, wants him to raise his head and instead join hands. He even makes sure to talk to Momo on the same eye level when he proposes the alliance, because people in alliance are equal. But where did Luffy learn that from?

Perhaps Law, who is always trying to speak to Luffy on same eye level, especially (but not only) when it's about important stuff. There's at least one scene like that in every arc. In Punk Hazard when they're captured Luffy is half-lying on the floor in a stupid position. Law is lying in exactly same way instead of trying to present himself to look cool, like he usually does. Why? Because if he sat up he wouldn't be on same eye level as Luffy. In Dressrosa, Luffy even tries to speak to Law who is lying down on Moocy on same eye level as well, by leaning down as much as he can (which is sweet of him, but not exactly working out in these circumenstances <3). On Zou Law comes closer and talks about stuff with Luffy on the stairs, because it's the easiest way to casually stand on eye level if he just stays one step below. And in Wano, Law also remembers about eye level. He even leans down to speak to Luffy. It doesn't matter that they're quarreling, eye level is a sacred rule, no disrespectfully placing yourself above your Luffy ally is ever allowed!

That's why when Luffy says this, I think Law kinda expects him to finish with different word. "Don't ever bow your heads, don't get down on the ground, because an alliance means we're equal!" is what Law would want to hear, seeing how he acts around Luffy. But he gets a "means we're friends" instead which throws him off so much he can't be quiet about it. Still, he doesn't scold Luffy for this and accepts that if it means friendship then it's friendship, and he does become friends with Kinemon as the result. Even if Luffy got it wrong, Law is gonna follow through with it. After all, he chose this fate for himself when he first proposed Luffy an alliance. If Luffy thinks it's about friendship, so be it friendship. In Law's novel we can see that Law doesn't really have a problem making friends, especially with people he saved before.

But did Luffy actually get it wrong? I feel like he played Law a little here, because Luffy clearly understands what equality is. He pushed Law's boundaries a little bit further to open him up to people. Alliances are nice, but friendships are nicer. And Luffy wants Law to make some new friends instead of keeping himself always at a distance. But since this is Luffy we're talking about, it might also be as simple as him thinking friendship means equality, and actually: he's not wrong about that part, definitely.

And I love how Law grumpily asks Luffy why the latter didn't ask about his own opinion. Luffy is like "But I knew already that you would say yes. Am I wrong about that?", and of course he's not, but he should have still asked anyway instead of deciding for both of them, even if he knows Law well enough already to assume his stance on all of this. It's not just about having faith in another person's beliefs, but it's also important to make sure they're on the same page already. What if Law had some important doubts to voice before agreeing? Luffy couldn't have guessed that.

It's actually like that all the time in their alliance. Law only protests or complains when he wants Luffy to notice some stuff, even if it seems REALLY nitpicky overall. He never does that when things get done (no matter in which way as long as the end goal is met), or when he already agreed to stuff (even if he doesn't like the consequences it led to). There's really just two scenarios in which he minds: it's when Luffy misses the mark about something important or when Law is worried like hell.

Do you think he acts angry here because Luffy already knows perfectly well what Law's own answer will be? Or is he annoyed by Luffy's confidence in Law's answer without even having to ask him first? Or maybe salty that he can't deny? I wonder if he realizes how much Luffy is actually paying attention to him.

And a new friendship alliance is completed :D Law even joins in for "hand bumping" part, because Luffy earlier declared "joining hands" is an important part of making an alliance. They never joined hands in Punk Hazard, but here Law actually listens to Luffy and follows through (despite his own touch-related trauma!).

After they leave the whale, Law seems to be deep in thought. Maybe he's returning back to the talk they had about Sanji's situation and deciding which would be the best course of action now for Law himself to take. Should he go with Luffy? Or would it be better to move on to Wano and just have faith that Luffy can push through without him?

Seems he reached his decision. Faith in Luffy, it is.

Look here. Before the whole earth shaking incident happened Law is far away (and out of frame), but the very moment situation gets unpredictable and dangerous, he positions himself close to Luffy, just so he can protect him if needed. He's also the only one capable of keeping his balance, Mr Steady Two Legs No Matter What Is Happening. Of course in this situation, when no one else can even stand anymore, he knows he's needed more than ever in case something even worse could happen.

Law doesn't say anything, but he is there when Luffy's group is leaving. He also clenches his fist, probably trying to stay strong in his resolve and decision (to go to Wano instead of with Luffy), but you can guess already how Trafalgar Law operates: he's most likely worried af under that stoic resting bitch face. Luffy is unusually cheerful on their parting. It's almost like the callback to their reunion at Punk Hazard, when he flashes Law the most beaming smile we ever saw Luffy do. And here it's the same. I bet you anything the reason is the same in both cases: he wants a certain someone to stop worrying over him so much and he does that by smiling the brightest he can, to show that things will be alright.

Because let's face it, samurais won't be worried about Luffy here (why would they? Kinemon truly believes Luffy to be so very strong!), neither would be the Strawhats crew (they believe in their captain and instead tell Luffy not to worry about them!). But Law? He would worry no matter what, it's just the way he is. That smile from Luffy is so bright mostly for Law.

And then Luffy yeets them off the elephant, and I'm sure it does not help Trafalgar Law to feel less worried, haha. Luffy's idea here is to show Law that he's not gonna waste time and will take the shortest possible route, so they can reunite as fast as they can. It's the same mindset he had in Dressrosa: jumping off the cliff to save them time. And indeed Law probably had a flashback to that in this moment, but he does not hold such fond memory of it like Luffy does, lol. He's like "that idiot is doing it again!".

Suffer Law suffer, because you will never stop worrying about this little dumbass you care about so very much!

[dragon-toad]

HOT TAKE : Makarov was a bad father (and a bad grandfather)

I'm expecting a big wave of hate with this one... BUT LET ME EXPLAIN

We can dive into the generational trauma theory : we know Yuri has been profoundly hurt by his wife's death (giving birth to Makarov) and this is a thing we should consider. In most cases, people live with the burden of the death of their partner until they die, which could have been Yuri's case. And the idea that somehow his wife died for his son... Well, angst potential.

Now : death of a loved one + wife who dies giving birth to his son = difficult father-son relationship

And even if Yuri didn't do it intentionally, there could have been a distance between the father and the son, and it has repercussions on the futur.

So yes, it maybe happened completely differently, but let's consider this hypothesis to understand what comes after :

Makarov was raised in the guild, where everybody is friendly. The only thing is his daddy issues. He ends up considering the guild more important, so the thing to cherish and protect at all cost.

Everything is fine.

Then, Ivan enters the game.

I know it's very fun to have an antagonist in the family of the master, the man presented as the most loving, a father for all the lost children, etc. BUT maybe we can go a little deeper.

We sometimes have this idea that some characters are born meaner than others, it allows us to ignore psychology and sociology, but it's not fun.

We can suppose Ivan was born in the guild, like Makarov and certainly Laxus. And as it's shown every single second that Fairy Tail is a very healthy environment, a "big family", so even if Ivan was a bit twisted, he would not have been so mean with his colleagues, provoking his exclusion, and he would have not tried to destroy the guild.

Unless he have daddy issues too. Let's consider : Makarov has a son and the mother is nowhere to be found. Doesn't it remind you of something ? But Makarov know his relationship with his father wasn't awesome, so he tries differently.

So two possibilities can be explored :

1- Ivan is a spoiled child. Being the master's son allows him to do reprehensible things and not be punished after, or not too much, and Makarov wants to give him all the freedom he didn't have. Until he almost kills another member of the guild. Then Makarov is forced to expel him. He takes away the thing that gave Ivan an almost unlimited power, and he doesn't like it. So if he can't have Fairy Tail, nobody will.

2- Makarov prefers the guild to his son. He doesn't know how to raise a kid, what if he screws like his father ? (Spoiler : he does) So when Precht makes him the new master, he puts all his soul into his job. But Ivan wants a father. So he does everything to make his father notice him, to make his father proud. It leads him to dark places, and thus, being strong = being good enough. Unfortunately, it doesn't work, because he ends up expelled. So, by pure rage, he decides to destroy the thing his father loved more than him. (It's my favorite version)

In both cases, Ivan manipulates his son into believing that being strong is the only way for him to be respected, to be seen.

Which leads us to the Laxus part (finally)

It's canon that Ivan pushed his son to be the strongest (to the point he put a lacrima in his body) so yeah, Laxus has daddy issues. But he has gampa issues too.

Let's continue with the theory we built on this post : Makarov doesn't really raise his son, why would he raise his grandson ?

But we see Makarov taking care of a very young Laxus. Thus, Laxus once loved his grandfather. Except Ivan didn't. So we can suppose he decided to keep his son under his control by manipulating him into thinking he has to be the strongest.

Then Ivan was banned.

The problem with an abusive relationship is that the victim thinks the abuser is on the right, which explains why Laxus was all but happy his father was expelled. But he stayed in Fairy Tail, because despite everything, Fairy Tail is his home. But this home is controlled by the man who banned his father (his abuser)

Laxus becomes a rank-S mage, which means he's the strongest. He has all the rights to make Fairy Tail his home, not Makarov's.

Well yes, but no.

Because there's Mirajane, a prodigy so fucking strong she becomes a rank-S mage too. But Lisanna dies, and suddenly everybody loves Mirajane. She even becomes the right arm of Makarov, because she's too weak now to create problems now.

And there's Natsu and Gray, Makarov's little boys. They're noisy, annoying, but they have potential. They have the potential to become stronger than Laxus. And Makarov loves them.

But more important, because there's Erza, who is so strong, so kind, so nice... Who is his grandfather's favorite. The same grandfather who did nothing when Ivan imprisoned Laxus into a psychological jail and who banned Ivan for somebody else's weakness. And Laxus knows it : she is the future master of Fairy Tail. She will steal his home and make it even weaker.

So he has to take Fairy Tail now, even if his grandfather dies in the process. Better, it will make things easier !

But in the end, Laxus loves Fairy Tail. He loves the guild enough to not betray everybody by joining his father's guild.

Laxus broke the cycle. And I don't think it was thanks to Makarov. If Laxus broke the cycle, it's because despite everything, he has weirdos to stick with. The Raijinshuu are a safe place for Laxus, they are strong enough to be his friends colleagues, they don't call him "psychotic" when he tells them he wants the guild, and more important, they care for him.

Laxus broke the cycle thanks to people who cared for him. They even wanted to follow him when he was banned ! But he said no, because he care for them and he knows they will be better in Fairy Tail.

Now, let's consider : travelling must have felt like therapy for Laxus : he's not part of Fairy Tail anymore and he's sure he will never have the possibility to come back, but he will not join his father because he doesn't want to put his friends in danger. So he has to do something by himself, not under the influence of his father. And I believe this emancipation was beneficial for him. He could learn what it means to be himself, not Ivan's son or Makarov's grandson.

I don't think he fully forgave Makarov for his inaction and for loving other more than him, and he's not completely out of Ivan's philosophy, those things need time, but he escaped the cycle.

[wrennyfics]

sub!snape headcanons :)

{part one}

im working on some sub!snape fics rn (ur requests), but in the mean time... have this

im high. so i apologize if thiss is a mess. pls ignore the grammar or whatever

warnings: NSFW, explicit, smutty (MINORS DNI OR I STG)

alright here we go (virgin, inexperienced, sub!snape)

My headcanons about...

Kissing: I honestly, this is kinda sad, but i imagine that sev was always really scared to be kissed because he thought it would be a prank. The first time you kiss him would have to be somewhere private, for this reason and the fact he hates pda, and you'd have to ask him. (i mean obviously, consent is important folks) but i mean, like literally verbally, "Severus, can I kiss you?" And i think at first his face is just blank, like hes trying to figure out if you're serious, amd he gets all flustered, and blushing and like "i, uh, you want.. are u sure? i.." or he is literally speechless and just nods

Kissing Cont. As the kissing gets more intimate i feel like hed be breathing pretty heavily. we know this man is skilled at occulemency and can control his emotions sooo well.. but when it comes to this... i think that man lets it go and is just a shaky, panting, flustered mess

Teasing: Especially in the beginning, he doesn't like to tease you or make moves. One, he's impatient. Two, he doesn't really know what to do and is scared of doing the wrong thing and messing up. But the second you start kissing on his neck... Running your hands down his body...

Preferences: sub!snape i think def prefers gentle!dom. i don't think he'd be totally against pain or stuff like that... but especially at first and for the most part, imo he would prefer to be taken care of. like lets bffr, his entire life he was neglected, touch starved and forced to always be in control. I think he would crave giving in, letting someone else control him

Prefrences Cont. He keeps his clothes on, especially at first. prob the trauma, mixed with insecurity, mixed with a bunch of other fun stuff. But at first, he is nearly fully clothed.

Kinks: Praise. 100%. And if you asked him before you guys had had sex about praise he probably would've scoffed. But the second you're on top of him the first time, moaning his name, saying how good hes making you feel, how well he's going... I think hes like o h. also slight degredation

Kinks cont. I don't think he'd like to be tied up tbh. as pretty as that'd be.. i think he'd need to touch you, feel you, his hands roaming everywhere. being pinned down by your wrists is different tho

Fav positions: when he's sub! he def likes you riding him, pinning his wrists down, taking what you need from him. he gets to see your whole body.. and relax for once and be a lil selfish in his own pleasure

Oral: sub!snape def prefers to give as opposed to recieving, i think this about dom!snape too, but especially about sub!snape. especially when you ride his face, when he gets to look up at you, watch your face contort in pleasure... especially when you grind down on him, but giving sub!snape head is like, a religious experience fam. on jah, on your jaw, dun dun tiss. yea that man is a shaking, whimpering mess, his hands clawing at the sheets, panting, cursing, begging. yep

His first time: lets be honest guys. he aint lasting long. but i think he would be like THIS? is what its like? and then proceed to overexhaust himself by going ten times because how in the world had he never felt this before.

misc.

he never used to touch himself much, insecurity and yk depression, but since you... whenever you're gone... he fucks his pillows yep i said it.

he def likes to edged, and having to beg for it. idk why, but i'd die on this hill.

he blushes so easy. like so easy. the man is so pale, one compliment or small kiss and his face is red

he's relatively quiet. he's verbal, but doesn't moan very loud. more so whispers, begs, quietly.. especially at first when he's more shy. but when he starts to get desperate, maybe after a lil bit of edging... he whimpers when he cums and thats just the truth

but if you compliment those whimpers.. tell him how much it turns you on.. he'll let them out even more

building on that, he wants to please you. be good for you. know that he's doing it right. in a horny way and also in a kinda emotional like.. she really does want me look at how shes reacting kinda way

loves to watch your face when he's making you cum

the first time you pull his hair hes like oh....

needs a lil extra aftercare after being sub! cause its a very vulnerable thing for him.. but his fav is just to lie there, cuddle you, bonus points if you praise him and tell him how proud you are of him

this was shameless.

cheerio xx

[capseycartwright]

ok i am going to get uncomfortably personal on main for a second please don’t make eye contact with me. this new trend of people vehemently saying that any storyline eddie may have about religion this season doesn’t ~ have to be ~ about his sexuality is genuinely a little upsetting to see because it’s not just oh it can be about something else anymore. so often recently i have just seen over and over the implication that it’s somehow wrong to so desperately want it to be about his sexuality - and maybe the intention is not for it to come across that way, but it often does.

as someone who grew up in a deeply religious, frankly strict, catholic environment (my school had an on campus priest. like that’s the level of catholicism we’re talking about here. i was in the big leagues) i freely admit i am clinging to the idea of eddie having a sexuality related storyline that revolves around his faith because i want that and i needed that when i was fourteen and struggling to come to terms with my sexuality because i was such a devout fucking catholic. i have done all the sacraments. i spent my entire life in catholic education. i didn’t miss mass any sunday for eighteen full years of my life. i was fucking religious. and i am bisexual. and i could not accept it. i didn’t even begin to accept it until i was 21. i didn’t even want to accept it then. i will have that religious trauma for the rest of my life. and i don’t even know how to articulate myself properly when i talk about it now, years later, but it’s not just the unlearning of your own faith that’s traumatic - it’s the loss of a community you spent your entire life in. that’s gone forever for me and it leaves behind an ache that’s hard to describe.

eddies faith journey could be about anything, sure, it absolutely could. but i need it to be about this. and i will make it about sexuality in every fic i write even if i don’t get it on screen - and i really hope i get it on screen. i am not the only person who feels that way. and this new wave of ~ discourse ~ where you’re somehow wrong to want eddies faith storyline to be about his sexuality because it couldn’t possibly be about anything other than heterosexuality and him feeling like a failure because he was going to get divorce and no longer have a nuclear family makes me feel about as small as i did when i realised the church i had loved (and still frankly love - despite it all, despite how much i wish i didn’t) my whole life would never love me back. we all have our interpretations of what these things mean, and are more than entitled to those differing interpretations - but what you’re not entitled to do is imply those of us who see our queer, catholic journeys in eddie are somehow stupid or wrong for seeing that.

i don’t like talking about this stuff. i write fic where i make eddie talk about it instead. that’s my way of processing. i just think a wee bit of empathy when it comes to things like faith and queerness - knowing so many of us share the same story about religion and sexuality, and intimately know how hard that story is to live, regardless of what faith you followed - is important. you might not see queerness in a storyline about faith or believe it’s there but lots of us do, and being so dismissive of that is just kinda mean, actually. ok bye.

[year2000electronics]

If you could, how would you have made Wendy be included in the secret basement scene at the end of Not What He Seems? She was the only main character left out and I always thought that was unfair.

OH GREAT QUESTION! so, when you look into behind the scenes stuff for really plot heavy episodes like not what he seems and atots, you kinda end up realizing that pacing is REALLY important and they need to use every second of those 22 (and 30 in ATOTS’ case) minutes as effectively as they possibly could. not what he seems is a very tight episode and i think it’s hard to fit in stuff in there, especially considering i think that wendy is the “weakest link” of the show character wise, but if i HAD to pick, i think id have wendy be in manly dan’s truck when he swerved into agent trigger’s car!

i mean think about it. dan is already in that episode, and wendy seeing her friends in a STRANGE GOVERNMENT VEHICLE that they literally got her dad to RAM to escape, uh, yeah i think she’s gonna make it her problem now! i think you could possibly shave off the kerpranked bit to put wendy in? or like other bits i don’t know. maybe just a moment or two where wendy’s like “what is going ON, is mr pines in trouble? are you in danger??” and then she can join the kids at the shack

it’s hard though. it’s definitely hard. because i think that wendy as she is now really couldn’t fit into the emotional core of the episode, which is, of course, the turmoil between the kids (as well as the viewers) and this secret about stan that’s rapidly spreading to them out of his control and they’re learning all the wrong stuff first and the tension between stan not even being stan and the kids trusting their uncle is like, JUICY-

but, like, wendy? we know she likes working at the shack, but that’s because she’s Cool and likes to slack off there. she slacks off and she’s like “meh” to stan a lot. i mean, she slacks off at the pool, too, when she gets that job. does she like stan because he lets her slack off? that can’t be right because stan doesn’t really let her, it just sorta happens. how did she even get the job from stan? did she ask? was he hiring? does she find him annoying because he’s always telling her to do her job? does she find it odd that stan would bring two kids up to his place for the summer? we don’t really know.

i can’t imagine her being stuck between these two extremes for stan because she never seems invested in stan. she must always be the aloof one, the cool one, never made to be vulnerable because being vulnerable is Not Cool. her only appearance in not what he seems being her going “nope i’m not going into work today that’s too much for me” is so telling in all the worst ways. and it can be frustrating

[jackie-mae]

with your outfit drawings for the mystreet character. im so curious about with vylad having outfits for s2-s6, if you want can you expand upon on that?

I WOULD LOVE TOO >:3c

Long and Short of it is I've always hated how Vylad was there in Mystreet S1, PDH S1 and then he just... dropped off the face of the earth after that. It always irked me a bit when it would show Garroth and Zane having brotherly bonding moments (and trauma) and always having the thought of (Man wasn't there a third brother in all this?) there in the back of my mind.

I'm now going to do some little bullet points of my Vylads role in S2-6 but this is a great time to mention I've never seen past S4 so I'm running on Wiki Lore and the gospel of AO3 and @catzgam3rz; who collaborates (Read: Infodump and Ramble) on a hypothetical rewrite with me so it gets vague and murky for the later seasons.

S1:

Basically the same as canon (as in S1 is kinda just slice of life) but instead of Vylad just travelling around the world he is an off the grid hunter that wanders the wilderness all the time (The freak)

This is based on my very fuzzy memories of MCD Vylad always kinda just being in trees as he watched Lady Aphmau in the early seasons so I just put Mystreet Vylad in trees for fun this time

Has a vaguely similar relationship to his brothers as in MCD. in the sense it's better with Garroth and more strained with Zane

S2:

Goes to LLP with the rest of the main cast (which consists of the 11 big designs I made) because season 2 is not when you should be writing out characters Jessica

He wears little rainboots and unlike Laurance (Who FYI wears cowboy boots a majority of the time) the rest of the cast did not get him into flip flops before he went trudging into the ocean (again a freak)

I like to imagine that if any drama is going on in the story you could always see him floating around on an inner tube off in the distance

S3:

Again back to slice of life so he does a lot of shenanigans with the cast here

This is the season where the shadow knights feature but for the life of me, I cannot remember if Vylad was officially a part of them or not (And his Wikia is not even a paragraph~) But if it turns out he was there'll probably be more shenanigans around that.

He ends up leaving mid-season (Fall ish?) to go on a hunting expedition

S4:

Oh hey look Vylad is back because we don't believe in writing characters off with little rhyme or reason Jessica

Vylads hunting expedition ends up being in the same area as the lodge. and we all know nothing bad happens there!

there's now a little ski village downhill from the lodge which is where Vylad is staying at seasons start. He's good friends with a lot of the people there.

He's a werewolf now... Don't worry about it!

Oh, what's this? Is that relationship building between him and Zane on the horizon? Well, that won't hurt at all, will it?

AY:

A not-alone buddy comforts his not-alone buddy (I do not know much about Aphmau's Year but know it's short so that's all I got)

S5:

As he is a part of the Lodge crew he gets to go to Starlight!

Possibly is involved in a certain shenanigan with his brothers I'll be posting a comic about that in a few days

Get's lost constantly. Figures Starlight being an island means he can't really get lost since he'll hit ocean eventually and refuses to acknowledge how big said island is.

Doesn't float around like in S2 but you can still find him wading on the shore in his boots

being a hyperattentive freak, he get's some bad vibes from the island sooner than most

S6

Gonna be honest, me and Catz have not watched all of When angels fall but are planning to soon so I'll just leave you with the fun fact that all of my season 6 designs are supposed echo my MCD's designs for the characters (Since S6 is when it was decided hey maybe Diaries is really important here now)

TLDR: Vylad was shafted in Mystreet so I'm fix it

[maybe-im-dark]

Okay, so let’s talk about something that’s been on my mind since forever: how Victor Creed (Sabretooth) and Logan (Wolverine) are dressed throughout X-Men Origins: Wolverine and how it symbolizes so much more than just “good vs. evil.” Strap in, fam, because we're about to go DEEP. 💥

1. The Color Contrast: Black vs. White 🖤🤍

Have you noticed that Victor ALWAYS wears black in the movie, while Logan almost always rocks white or lighter colors? I mean, it’s not exactly subtle, but it’s not JUST about the whole “black = evil, white = good” trope. It’s so much more nuanced than that. Let’s break it down:

Victor in Black: Black is often associated with darkness, mystery, and destruction. It makes total sense for Victor because he represents Logan's feral, animalistic, and destructive side—the side that doesn’t hold back, that doesn’t care about morality or right and wrong. Victor embraces that darkness. He doesn’t hide from it, he OWNS it. He’s comfortable in it, and he doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what he is: ruthless, violent, and dangerous. But it’s also important to note that black is a color that absorbs everything, just like Victor absorbs all that negativity, that rage, and that darkness that Logan tries to suppress. 🖤

Logan in White: Now, Logan in white is interesting because, yeah, white represents purity, goodness, and heroism. But Logan? We KNOW he’s not some squeaky-clean hero. He’s been through war, trauma, and all the shades of gray in between. So, why white? It’s because he’s TRYING to be better. He’s striving to be more than just an animal, more than the weapon others see him as. He wears white as a form of defiance against his darker nature. It’s not about being good—it’s about aspiring to be good, to be more than just his instincts. It’s him holding onto that tiny flicker of humanity in the midst of all the blood and violence. 🤍

2. Victor as Logan’s Dark Reflection 🪞

Here’s where it gets even juicier. Victor isn’t just a villain. He’s not just Logan’s enemy. He’s literally the embodiment of everything dark that Logan could be if he stopped caring. Victor is the feral rage, the unrestrained violence, and the part of Logan that LOVES the fight. And that’s why Victor haunts Logan so much—because he represents what Logan is terrified of becoming. 🐺

When you see them fighting, it’s not just hero vs. villain. It’s Logan fighting himself. It’s him battling against that part of his soul that wants to give in to the rage, the bloodlust, and the sense of power that comes with being untamed and unrestrained. Victor is basically holding up a mirror and saying, “This is who you are, and you can’t run from it.” And that’s why it’s so important that they wear opposite colors because they’re two halves of the same whole. They are literally the darkness and light within Logan at war. 🌑🌕

3. The Yin and Yang Connection ☯️

I mean, let’s be real here—Victor and Logan are the literal embodiment of Yin and Yang. They balance each other out. You can’t have one without the other. And here’s the kicker: Logan NEEDS Victor. He needs that darkness to remind himself of what he’s fighting against, of why he’s trying to be good, why he’s trying to hold on to his humanity. Victor, on the other hand, needs Logan to have that contrast, to have a reason to keep pushing, to keep proving that embracing the darkness is the only way to survive.

4. The White Turning to Red 🔴

And here’s the most heartbreaking part: Logan’s white clothes are always getting covered in blood. It’s like the movie is screaming at us that no matter how hard he tries to be good, to be “pure,” the violence and bloodshed always find him. And isn’t that the ultimate struggle? You can fight your darkness all you want, but it’s always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for you to slip up.

Victor doesn’t have that struggle. He’s at peace with his darkness, which, in a twisted way, gives him power over Logan. And that’s why Victor ALWAYS looks so calm, so confident, because he’s not fighting himself. He’s already made peace with who he is.

---

TL;DR: The black and white clothing in X-Men Origins: Wolverine isn’t just a lazy good vs. evil thing. It’s a visual representation of Logan’s internal struggle between light and darkness. Victor isn’t just Logan’s enemy; he’s the living embodiment of Logan’s darkest impulses, the side of him that craves violence and power. And Logan’s journey is about trying to find balance between that feral side and the part of him that still wants to be a good man.

So yeah, next time you watch the movie, pay attention to the colors, the symbolism, and what it really means about who Logan is, what he’s fighting against, and why Victor will always be a part of him. 🖤🤍

[cosmicaces]

why haven't i seen anyone acknowledge rody's plane autism... sure, you can argue that he's just really passionate about them but hear me out:

through pino, we can see how happy he gets from just seeing a plane! esp in the left image, last panel; if you ask me, that's an expression of autism bliss.

now, i dunno about you, but me, personally, i cannot discern plane makes/models from one another. my knowledge is basic. i bring this up because of rody commenting "i've never seen a plane like that before." this stands out to me because the fact that he can tell goes to show how much he pays attention when a plane is flying overhead. he likely spends a Lot of time looking at planes. i mean, they live by an airport, there is a chair just outside their door, it's a fair assumption.

the fact his siblings acknowledge his love of planes... i mean, for someone who masks as much as rody, it's very telling.

the next thing i wanna call attention to is the baby mobile that's hanging up in their trailer!

notice how it has little planes? from that, we can infer that this is rody's! (i'm sure they used this for his siblings as well, but it's rody's)

it's hanging up as decoration, but the fact that they still have it... it implies that rody went back into their desecrated home just to get it. it's important to him!!

additionally, in the credits of whm, we can see that rody's gotten a toy plane! it's on display next to their tv.

to me, his love of planes is really significant because, well, if you think about it, it's another way in which he parallels deku! think about it: deku loves heroes, he loves heroes so much that it being a hero is his dream. rody loves planes! i don't think it's a far-fetched idea that the REASON why rody wants to become a pilot is because he loves planes!!!

[pynkhues]

I kept thinking about how much Louis bases his worth on money and work and realized that he never really experienced poverty. He was well-off as a human, he struggled briefly in Paris but since he got with Armand he pretty much lived the life of a luxury lmao. Nothing comparing to the poverty that Lestat and and Armand experienced. Ngl, l was a little dissapointed when it turned out that Louis took everything in divorce. There's a line in iwtw when he was like: he could make me kill children but not part with my money, so what would it take to make Louis willingly part with his money? Can you ever take the capitalist out of him? I really wanted to see him living in a hovel wearing rags like he did at certain point in the books not live that rich capitalistic lifestyle lmao, but I don't think we gonna see it :(

Mm, he never experienced poverty per se, no, at least not in the way Armand, Lestat and Claudia all have, but I think Louis' relationship with money is very complicated, in no small part because money is used against him as a form of racial violence when he's a young man in New Orleans.

I've talked about it on here a couple of times now, but I've been doing a lot of research lately on the culture of money for a project that I'm working on, because it's systemic failures to understand that money is not an objective thing, but something that wields enormous social power, that allows for financial abuse to happen. While I'm researching it specifically through a domestic violence lens, there's a lot of crossover with that when it comes to racism and government failures in acknowledging how money is used to further entrench not just inequity, but racial violence (I've actually been particularly researching dowry and remittance abuse too, which is fascinating and uniquely awful [not dowries and remittance payments themselves, but the way they can be weaponised particularly in culturally blind systems like we have in Australia]).

The first few episodes are extremely clear that Louis' experiences as a professional man have been limited by his race, but they're also clear that he's a victim of financial abuse by white society men who'd pay him a fraction of his worth in exchange for a seat at the table they clearly don't think he belongs at. This is pretty much said explicitly at the card game scene in 1.01 (and not really here nor there for this post, but I think a vital point of connection in that Lestat sees this for what it is and maintains the ruse while helping Louis to cheat a game that's rigged against him).

Louis swallows it because he's ambitious, yes, but also because he's the sole provider left in his family given nobody else in his family has the want or capacity to work.

We don't know the entire situation with his father's sugar plantation, but the implication is that it wasn't in good shape when he died, which is a part of the reason Louis became a pimp. He needed to make money to keep his family not just financially secure, but thriving, but at the same time, Louis' desire to earn is, in my opinion, about more than just personal ambition and providing, it's about social power, autonomy and independence. For him, money is symbolically something that was used to keep him low and to keep him out of what he knew he deserved, and I don't really think that's changed for him. He uses it to buy what he wants, yes, in art and interviews and blood donors, but it's also I think about having social power over the society that once exercised repressive and racist power over him.

I think the version of the character we get on the show would never give that up, and honestly, I wouldn't want him to? I think thematically it's too important now as it's tied inherently to Louis having both options and autonomy, and I don't really like the implications for his character about what it'd mean to give it all up.

As for Armand - we don't actually know if he ends up with nothing post-s2. Yes, Louis keeps the Dubai apartment and kicks Armand out, but I kind of assume they'll have done some sort of asset split (although I do imagine Louis will take most of it, because of his association with money and power). Given how rich they seemed to be, I imagine even if Armand does get a fraction of what Louis keeps, it'd probably still be an eye-watering amount of money, haha.