#and think about how that shit actually comes across

[gyaruhana]

Can you do a smut fic where readers dating thanos and she nearly dies in red light green light, and they realise how dangerous the games are and fuck like it’s their last night together? Im talking pure need and lust, desperation after realising the stakes of the squid games

Thanos / Choi Su-bong - I love you

Synopsis: After witnessing so much death and realizing you may both be next, you decide to fuck in the bathroom.

A/N: combined this with two other requests asking for bathroom sex.. i hope that was okay !! also not entirely proof read..

Warnings: smut content, fingering, praise, he's more gentle tbh

You had never feared death before. It always seemed so far away and it was the least of your concerns considering the debt you and your boyfriend, Thanos, share after betting it all on some coin a youtuber recommended. Never once in your life had you thought you would actually die. You always imagined that you'd die at an old age in a fancy house- maybe even with a kid or two. Point is, you didn't think about death because you really didn't see any need to.

Until today that is. 

You and your boyfriend had come across a great opportunity to earn lots of won by playing a few games. Considering you had already earned quite a bit from a game of ddakji, it was a no-brainer to agree to a few games. At the time, it didn't seem suspicious because the salesman who offered the card to you had given you plenty of won without a catch. 

Although you were knocked out with a gas when you entered the designated car together and practically kidnapped, neither of you thought anything about it- too excited at the idea of making money to pay off your debt with a few games. Any money goes a long way to finally paying off your debt so you can focus on getting your dream life.

Idiotically enough, you also didn't find any suspicion in the guy yelling something about how you'll be shot if you move. It actually made you and Thanos laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you both assumed he was just some drunk making up shit to scare people. How wrong the both of you were.

By the time everyone had made it to the halfway mark with plenty of time to spare, Thanos saw a bee land on some girl and made a comment about it. The girl immediately let out a scream and moved to try to get the bee off of her. It was amusing to watch until the sound of a gunshot rang through the air and her body fell to the floor. 

The smile on both your faces dropped immediately as blood pooled around her now-dead body. You and Thanos stood deadly still as people started to scream and run away out of fear. Every gunshot made your heart drop further because that could be you or him. The idea one of you might die right now was sickening for the both of you. 

The moment the sound of shooting stopped, the doll turned out and called green light again. Thanos quickly reached for his necklace while walking forward, desperately needing to be high right now so he could try to pretend like this wasn't really happening. Meanwhile, you didn't move a muscle - too afraid you might die here. You didn't want to be shot too.

The doll turned its head and called out red light making everyone freeze again. Another gunshot rang out making you flinch but thankfully the doll didn't notice the small movement. When it turned around again, Thanos put the pill in his mouth before closing his necklace and looking behind him. You still weren't moving, making him worry. You didn't have time to just stand there, you had to get going and make it to the end.

“What are you doing? You have to move,” Thanos spoke out as he gestured for you to come over to him. He kept still when the doll announced red light again but he kept his eyes on yours. He couldn't have you just stand there until your inevitable death. The moment the players could move again, Thanos ran toward you and grabbed your wrist before pulling you along with him. 

With Thanos dragging you along, you both managed to make it to the end before the time ran out. The relief the two of you shared was only there momentarily. You may have survived this game but what's to say you'll survive the next game? There was no guarantee. In fact, you weren't even confident in yourself that you'd survive the next game. After all, you only got through this because Thanos had dragged you to the end. 

As if sensing your fear, Thanos looked at you and cupped your face with his hands. “Don't look so stressed, baby. We're fine,” he spoke as he gently caressed your cheek. You gave a small smile at his words but the fear didn't disappear. He let out a sigh before tapping your cheek twice and removing his hands. He knew there wasn't much he could say to make this any better. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure. The only reason he was calm was because he had popped a pill the moment the first person died. 

As the players were slowly led back to the main room which they had awoken in, Thanos took your hand to keep you close to him. Despite the drugs he had taken, he was still pretty stressed about the whole ordeal. Mostly because of you. He couldn't fathom the idea of you getting shot like those other idiots in the last game. He'd definitely go crazy if you got hurt so he needed to keep you close to him. 

Even after you were already in the room, his hand still kept a firm grip on yours as if you might disappear should he let go. You didn't mind though. If anything, his hand squeezing yours was a huge comfort. A silent reminder that he wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. It made you feel significantly calmer to be close to him.

He led you to the back of the room and sat you down on the bed before sitting down next to you, his legs crossed with his hand still in yours. He looks at you for a few moments, analyzing your face and trying to read your thoughts. He didn’t like the way your eyes lingered on your lap instead of him so he raised a hand and tilted your chin upwards to make you look at him.

“Baby, you good?” he asks even though he already knew the answer to that question. You were quite far from good after all the blood you had seen. “Am i good?” you say sarcastically, mocking his own words. “Of course, I’m not! I just saw people die! Too many! Fuck, that could’ve been me or you,” you speak, your stress about the whole situation evident in your face and tone. “You gotta relax. We’re fine. Besides we’ll get out of here soon,” he says reassuringly as he looks at you with worry.

You let out a sigh and shake your head as you look to the side- away from him. It was quiet for a few moments as Thanos waited for you to say something else, knowing that you were thinking something. “What if we don’t?” you finally say as you look back at him again. “Don’t say that,” he speaks as his face hardens slightly at the idea that you might die. Fuck, he couldn’t bear the thought of you laying lifeless. “Not saying it doesn’t make it any less of a possibility,” you respond with a frown. He knows that you’re right. It’s a possibility that he can’t just ignore.

“I swear on my life that I will protect you,” he says with a sincere look on his face. It didn’t make you feel any better though because swearing on his life in a game where he could actually die wasn’t a good thing. “Don’t say that,” you speak, repeating his earlier words as your face hardens. You didn’t want him to even think about sacrificing his life for you. You couldn’t see what you’d do without him. 45.6 billion was useless if he couldn’t be there with you to spend it. 

“Okay,” he says with a small smirk as he raises his hand in mock surrender. “I’ll swear on the sun and the moon instead,” he said as he lowered his hands. His words were enough to make you smile a little. Him swearing on the sun and the moon was plenty more significant then others may think. He swore on the sun and the moon he’d treat you right when he first asked you to be his. He swore on the sun and the moon to always be there for you after a particularly bad day when you lost your dad. Most of all, he swore on the sun and the moon that he’d buy a nice house and you could get married and live happily ever after together. He never ever took the name of the sun and moon in vain and that’s why hearing him say it now made you feel just a little better about the current situation.

Thanos looked behind himself for a moment before back at you. “Hey.. if swearing on the sun and moon isn’t enough for you, I could show you how serious I am,” he says with a small smirk. It didn’t take an idiot to know what he meant by that. “..what exactly does that mean?” you question even though you already knew exactly what he meant. There was a spark of desire in his eyes that matched yours as his hand gripped yours tightly. “I don’t have to tell you for you to know,” he says before standing up and pulling you up from the bed with him. 

He drags you towards the door on the right side of the room and bangs on it loudly. “Hey, open up. Bathroom needed,” he says and the door opens after a moment. “Ladies first,” he says with a smirk as he steps out of the way to let you go in first. You shake your head, an amused smile playing on your face as you walk in. The guard led you both down the hallway and to the bathroom. Thanos didn’t waste any time in pushing past that door, dragging you behind him. 

With his patience wearing thin, he quickly pulled you into a kiss. It was unlike his usual kisses that were rough and involved his tongue jammed down your throat. This kiss was more passionate as if he was trying to say something words could never convey properly. He quickly pushed you back into one of the stalls and kicked the door closed behind him, locking it with one of his hands. He spun you around and pushed your back against the stall wall. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbles after pulling away momentarily. He stares at you silently - memorizing every feature of your face. He could never get enough of how pretty you were. It felt like a miracle someone like you was with a dickhead like him. He couldn’t help but admire you. “..What? Is something wrong?” you say as you look at him with concern. You didn’t expect him to just stare at you out of nowhere and it was a little embarrassing. 

He shakes his head as he snaps out of his trance. “No, sorry. Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am,” he says before kissing you again like it’s the last time he could ever get to kiss you. In his mind, it damn well could be. One of you really could be dead by tomorrow evening and then that was it. He’d never see you smile or laugh again or look at him like he was the most important thing in the world. The thought was sickening. No matter how confident or cocky he’d act, he was still just Choi Su-bong. And Choi Su-bong was undeniably yours.

You put your arms around his neck as you kissed him back - the feeling of his hands on your waist keeping you in the moment and erasing any memory of the earlier events just for now. His hands slipped under your shirt to feel your skin before he pulled away from the kiss and opted for leaving kisses on your neck instead. He sucked at the skin so delicately and slowly, trying to savor his time with you as much as possible. His lips paused for a moment when they hovered over your pulse point before he kissed the area and bit it softly to mark you right above your pulse so he could feel your heart beat quicker - a silent confirmation that you were still very much alive. 

His hands trailed down to the waistband of your pants before he tugged them down till they dropped to the floor. His hand then pulled your underwear down too, not wanting to waste time with foreplay with the limited time you two shared together. His index finger gently traced over your clit making a moan escape the back of your mouth. “You’re already wet for me? God - I can just skip ahead then, yeah?” he says as he pulls his hand to pull his pants down along with his boxers. 

“Not even a little prep?” you question as you look at him. He laughs quietly before nodding his head. “Fine, but you better cum quick - I need to feel you,” he speaks as one of his hands finds its way to your hole again. He carefully rubs his fingers back and forth before slipping in a finger. His free hand went to cover your mouth when a moan escaped as he couldn’t risk the guard outside the bathrooms hearing and breaking up this moment with you. 

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he says as he starts to finger you. You nod your head as you try to keep as quiet as possible. He inserts another finger and begins to quicken the pace in which he thrusted his fingers in and out of you. He kept his eyes on your face, loving your reactions to his fingers deep inside your aching core. He had always observed you like this but there was something different about it now that you two had each other to lose. Everything was so much more passionate than usual. You found that your release came much quicker this time around as you released on his fingers. 

“God, you’re so good for me,” he says as he pulls his fingers out slowly before bringing them to his mouth and tasting you. He held eye contact with you as he sucked his fingers clean before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand finding its place on the back of your neck to keep you close. He slowly lined himself up with you, his tip rubbing against your entrance making him let out a small groan. 

He slowly pushed into you, burying his face into your neck as he stretched you out with his dick. He let out a heavy huff at the feeling of being inside you. It felt euphoric. You were so unbelievably tight as he continued to inch himself further in. You let out a moan that was muffled by his hand as he finally pushed in the rest of his dick with one stroke. “You good?” he asks as he pulls his head away from your neck and looks at you. You were still for a few moments before you nodded your head - finally adjusting to the stretch.

The moment you nodded your head, he slipped out before thrusting right back in. He let out a low groan as he repeated the movement over and over, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock deep inside you. You leaned your head back against the stall door as he thrusted in and out of you with a quick pace. His hands grab at your hips roughly to keep you still while he thrusts in and out of your tight hole. “God.. Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled under his breath as the sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the bathroom. He loved being deep inside you like this. It felt so fucking good. Even more so now because it was a way to reassure himself you were still here with him and not one of the many corpses he saw earlier.

The thought you could be dead soon spurred him on to fuck you harder. He hated that possibility. He didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about you. How your head was thrown back, how your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, how you tried to keep quiet but struggled because he made you feel so good. He loved every fucking part of you - you were perfect.

"Fuck - I love you. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much. Please say it back" he spoke as he thrusted into you quickly, his pace getting sloppy as he drew ever-so closer to a sweet release. God, he wanted to fill you up with his cum but he needed to hear you say that you loved him like he loved you. He needed to know you cared for him and wouldn’t leave him anytime soon. You nodded your head before forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I-I love you too,” you speak and the groan he lets out is so loud.

He immediately releases with one last thrust, making sure his cum spills deep inside of you. You released along with him with a moan and you both stilled. It was quiet for a few moments aside from the heavy breathing that filled the bathroom. He leaned his forehead against yours and closed his eyes as he came down from his high. His hands slowly trailed up from your hips to your face as he gently held your cheeks in his hands.

“I love you,” he repeats as he opens his eyes and looks into yours. There was very much a different kind of look in his eyes this time. A look that told you how much he really meant what he said. There was a hint of fear in his eyes too as he genuinely feared that he may lose you sooner or later to these stupid games.

“I know,”

[sccrim]

CAMERA MAN !

warnings : ( unprotected pnv , degrading / praising , creampies , slapping , oral fem receiving , pornstar x drew , masturbation , sex tape , hair pulling , bondage , squirting )

you ask drew to help you film certain angles you couldn’t get right. drew agreeing just for it to end up in a way you didn’t really expect.

1.4k words. not proof read.

tags : @rissouu @dolliescries ( lmk if you want tags !! )

you and drew had been roommates for a while now. it wasn't weird that he was a man and you a woman. it was a mutual agreement that you guys both needed a place to stay. you didn't care if he brought girls home and he didn't care about men you brought. you actually glad you found him as your roommate. he was barley home and when he was— he was in his room.

you never implied that you were a pornstar but he did have the idea you were. he didn't care though. this was the same man who searched your name and jerked himself off to you. the ones he loved the most was when you would pleasure yourself coming to your high. your nipples piercing through your see through bra. the way your legs were opened so they had a better angle of seeing you cum. fuck maybe he did want to fuck the shit out of you and make sure you knew who he was.

drew was sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone when he heard your door open. "hey drew, i need a favor." you asked him. "yeah?" he questioned while seeing you in your robe. "can you help me film something really quickly. i can't get the angle right and i want this to be perfect." you softly smiled. you didn't want to ask him but you really wanted this to be good. this was how you were making money.

"yeah sure." he tried to act nonchalant but he knew what was up and he didn't mind at all. at least he got to see you touch yourself in real life then on video. "you probably already know but don't be so alarmed ok?" you closed your room door. "you're good y/n." he chuckled. "okay all i need is for you to film close ups and just whatever you think is good okay? i'll even pay you half of what i make for helping me." you took off your robe. drew eyed your whole body. the way your thong kissed your ass and lips. your red see through bra. "you're good. trust." of course he was fucking happy. he was gonna see you fuck yourself.

you put yourself on your bed and sat up against the headboard. drew nodded his head letting you know it pressed record. you began smiling at the camera and licked your fingers to get your pussy wet. you traveled down slowly while the camera following the trail. you began circling your clit. moaning softly. drew trying not to get hard. you grabbed your dildo and insert it. you moaned again causing drew to show the camera on your face.

you didn't know what was turning you on even more, drew staring at you, his hard ass dick or the feeling of your dildo. you turned your body around. now the camera sees your ass cheeks in the air. you insert the dildo once more causing you to hump it. god, drew wanted to fuck you bad. he wanted the camera to catch everything he did to you. your eyes meeting drew. you smiled and moaned at the same time knowing he was getting turned on. "wanna fuck me?" you finally spoke.

drew just looking at you, not knowing if you were talking to him or for the camera. "hm? wanna fuck the shit out of me." you bit your lip. "show them you can make me fucking cum all over your dick babe." fuck that just turned drew on even fucking more. he was ready and so were you. "turn over." he spoke. you turned your body once more. your body on the edge of the bed. you grabbed your boob causing drew to slap your hand out the way. you touching yourself as drew traveled his fingers across your body.

drew set the camera on your night stand for the perfect angle. he took his shirts off. his dick flopping against his abs. he spit on his hand and began stroking his dick. you couldn't wait for him to fuck the shit out of you. you wanted to see how good he felt. drew tapped his dick on your clit, you could feel the sensation of it causing you to soft moan. "how much you want me to fuck you?" he ask you as he rubbed his thumb on your clit. "really bad."

"sorry what? gotta speak up baby."

"please drew."

"so fucking wet for me. god, so beautiful laying here desperate for my fucking dick."

"be a good fucking slut and face down, ass up." drew turned you over so quick. you were even shocked but you couldn't wait to get pounded. "hands on your back." you listened and placed them behind your back. drew grabbing his belt and turning it into cuffs. "if you want to tap out let me know." he wants you to tap out. he wants to know that you can't take all of it.

drew just slams into you. "fuck." he moaned. "look at you, wet just for me. felt how easy going in was. turn your head to the camera." his fist around your hair making you face the camera. "show them how good i fuck you." your eyes rolling back. man he can fuck. "you feel so good ma." your pussy clinching around his cock. he grabbed your hips and kept thrusting into you. all you hear is your moans and his balls clapping against your ass checks.

"fuck baby, you look so beautiful taking this dick." drew slapped your ass. "i'm gonna cum—" he started to feel your body shake. "that's right, cum all over this dick." thrusting harder as your body came. "i'm not finish with you yet." drew took the belt off of your hands. you turned around and got on your knees. you began jerking him off before licking his thick tip. "be a good bitch and spit on it." he lifted your chin up. you spit on his dick before placing it in your mouth. "fuck, you feel so good."

he leaned his head back. still sucking, you grabbed his balls. all you can hear is drew moaning. he never felt this good before. you were still turned on. man this man was out of this world, you thought. "right there baby." he guided you. he made sure his dick was all in your mouth. the gagging, causing him to moan in pleasure.

"get up."

you followed his command. you laid on your back as he slammed into your throbbing pussy. he placed his hand on your neck, choking you softly— you smiling at him. "how will your fans feel knowing you rather get fucked by me then anyone else? hm?" he placed his thumb in your mouth. you sucking on it slowly causing him to fuck you even harder. "who's pussy is this?"

"yours."

"that's right, and it's gonna fucking stay like that. no one else is gonna fuck you."

man. drew starkey, the man you fucking are. "i'm gonna fucking cum." he moaned out still pounding you faster. "cum for me."

drew's body started to come to his high, his body twitching inside you. you could feel his cum shoot through you. drew trying to catch his breath. you lifted up a little bit with your elbow, touching your pussy, feeling his cum come out if you. drew watched you as you put his cum in your mouth. "such a dirty slut." he kissed you, placing his tongue in your mouth. "we're not finished." you looked at him in confusion. he got on his knees and put your legs over his shoulder.

"i want you to squirt in my mouth."

you laid back down when you felt his tongue on your clit. your hand gripping his hair as you began fucking his face. him moved his hand to grab your boob. this man made you feel things, you haven't felt. yeah you did collabs but it wasn't as amazing as this was. you tried to hold in longer because you loved the feeling of drew eating you out but your body began to shake. drew holding down your hands by your side as he kept the movement going.

"drew- im gonna—" you moaned out. you squirting all over him. you out of breath while drew smiled looking at you so weak. "you taste so good baby." he says leaning in kissing you. you both never thought this day would come that you guys would be doing this together or even kissing each other. but you weren't mad about it at all. you actually loved it. maybe deep down you guys both had feelings for each other.

drew grabbed the camera and stopped recording. he picked you up and put you in the shower. both of you guys showering together. "go on a date with me."

 sccrim — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost , translate , or plagiarise my content.

[penelopeswifey]

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS!

CHAPTER 3 — WEIRDO!

a/n: so.. hey.. happy new year.. merry christmas... happy halloween. I'm SORRY FOR SAYING ID UPDATE MORE THEN LEAVING AND NEVER COMING BACK. I really forgot about Tumblr after a few days ☹️☹️ but HERE I hope you all had a good 2024 and a even better 2025!!

You just sat on your chair, contemplating life while deciding if you even wanted to live it

This is so humiliating.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get worse, you got a notification from someone you would rather die than talk to.

There is no fucking way.

Y/N stared at their phone screen, frozen.

" Funny how you kept whining about how overrated I was, wanna talk about those stories you've made? "

No. No. No.

The words burned into your brain as you read them over and over again. Scaramouche. THE Scaramouche.. The idol you dragged through the mud on countless streams and tweets. The same idol who was, apparently, now aware of your other identity.. the anonymous fanfiction writer who had single-handedly written half the internet’s “Scaramouche x Reader” content. The same person who shitted on him so much time!

You dropped your phone onto the desk and buried your face in your hands. Nope. This isn’t real. This is all a dream. It can’t be real. Why would it be real? There’s no way this is real. But when you peeked through your fingers, the message was still there, on the phone like it demanded your attention.

“Why.. why is this happening to me?” you whispered to yourself. Your brain was screaming at you to respond, but also screaming at you to jump out of your window where you could die or move to the countryside and become a farmer. But your fingers refused to move. What could you even say?

" Haha, just a prank, broski! " No, too weird. Who the hell says that.

" That wasn't me!.. " Yeah, because your whole stream was definitely ai generated.

No, none of this would work.

Maybe you could ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see the message. But what if he posted about it? What if he already had? But, he couldn't right?! He's an idol.. but just out of paranoia, you frantically opened Twitter, scanning his feed. Nothing. Yet.

Dropping your phone back onto the desk, you screamed into your hands begging to be taken out. But you were going through that crisis, your phone buzzed again. Another message.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” you muttered as you grabbed their phone.

Please don't be him again.

" I have to say, you’ve got quite the imagination. Because some of those scenarios? Bold. "

Your soul left your body. He read them. He actually read them. How many? Which ones? Did he see the one where he- no. nope, nope, nope. don't you dare think about that.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, shaking. After a deep breath, you typed something anything- to atleast be able to solve this issue!

“ I can explain? 😁.. "

The response was immediate.

"Oh, please do. I'm very interested. "

You let out a strangled noise somewhere between a groan and a scream. Why did he have to be so smug about this?! This was his fault!, with his stupid face and his stupid voice and his stupid way of being the perfect material to write about! This is all his fault he knows damn well how he's acting In front of the camera does he expect no one to be taking one for the team and writing about him?!

“Look,” you typed, trying to sound calm, “it’s not like I’m the only one who writes this stuff. You just happened to find mine. "

His reply came in less than ten seconds.

“ Not hard to find when you've basically written half of the internet's fanfiction about me. "

You nearly chucked your phone across the room. Yes, death is definitely a better option, where's the nearest window? You couldn't even think straight before you typed back and sent

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you shot back

“ Oh, absolutely. This is the best thing I’ve seen all week. Do you always write such... intense stuff, or was it just for me? "

There's no coming back from that. You groaned, slamming your head onto the desk. There was no way you were living this down. Ever.

Driven by emotions instead of rationality, you texted back.

“I hate you.”

Another buzz.

“Doesn’t seem like it, judging by what you've written about me. "

You let out a soundless scream, shoving your chair back and pacing around the room, making laps as you ran around the house. Your heart was racing, your face felt like it was on fire.. out of embarrassment of course, NOT because you're interacting with THE scaramouche- the same one who in your fics did- yeah, stop.

Ignoring the continuous buzz of notifications erupting from your phone, you finally sat down from running laps and thought to yourself, knowing you just pulled yourself in a hole you sure as hell won't be escaping anytime soon.

He wasn't going to let this go, was he?

—

ACCIDENTALLY YOURS!

SYPNOSIS: You, a well-known streamer, have always kept your two hobbies separate. By day, you entertain thousands with your snarky commentary, but by night, you secretly write. fanfiction about your favorite idol, Balladeer. It was a guilty pleasure—until a late-night stream led to a slip of the tongue and exposed your secret to the world!

In a single moment of poor judgment and a misclick, which by the way was totally not your fault!.. I think.. clips and memes about you spread like wildfire! It was embarrassing enough for everyone to know about your fanfiction, but it spiraled down even further when they discovered you were writing about the very idol you  constantly claimed was overrated.

Just as you wallowed in self-pity, a notification pings on your phone. A familiar username and a blue checkmark.

Shit.

accidentally yours masterlist: chapter 4 —

-

taglist

@kaeuri @kazumiku @kyouzki @skyoverkill1 @flowzel @lalalaloveallmydays @sketcheeee @vi0let-writes @kunikuzushis-darling @js-a-silly-little-guy @simonisferal @jayzioxx @naevis-callingae @vxmp-loml @dxrling-xing  @suzueuieeeee @kinanahan @help-whatdoimakemyusername @khisuko @dearanemo @heusalettle @v4lerixxq @catorkitty @khsuvy @reivelmin

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

She thought that coming up the hill would be the hardest part, but that proves to be wrong once she’s at the top.

Max hadn’t had the courage to visit by herself. Hadn’t wanted to experience the awkwardness of being both alone and un-alone, talking to someone and no one.

Most likely no one.

She thought about buying a Ouija board, but Robin very narrowly talked her out of it.

This seemed like a better alternative anyway.

Of all the birthdays she knows her brother spent alone, held up in his room with no gifts or cake because he claimed to not care about that shit, she figured that he shouldn’t get to choose this time.

So, there’s a blanket spread out on the grass with an unopened cake from Melvald’s on top, and a bouquet of flowers.

“Man, he would’ve called this gay,” Steve muses.

He leans against his hand, legs semi-stretched beside him, admiring the inscription on the headstone like it’s nothing more than a rock with writing on it.

And maybe, to him, it isn’t.

Max huffs a laugh, but it’s clipped near the end. Heavy, when her throat bobs, and she nods as tears slip down her cheeks.

“He’d call me a shithead and probably still try to steal a slice when nobody was looking,” Max says with a chuckle.

Steve huffs amusedly and shrugs.

“He was a funny guy.”

His gaze wanders off as he tugs some blades of grass up from the ground, snapping and sprinkling them into a small pile at his side with his free hand.

The finality to his words has Max’s brows drawing together.

She often wonders if, maybe, she and Steve never clicked for a reason, and if she probably shouldn’t have invited him up here when Robin suggested it.

Trust me, she had said. Take Steve, if you take anyone.

“Guess so,” Max murmurs.

Her eyes wander down to the cake sitting between them, blank, just as it was on the shelf. She wipes her eyes and thinks about reaching out to pop the plastic lid off when Steve shifts.

“Wasn’t really big on sweets,” he says.

Max blinks at him.

“What?”

“Billy,” Steve says, glancing over at her and gesturing vaguely to the headstone. “He didn’t like sweets.”

She stares for a long moment, searching her mind for a protest. Comes up blank when she tries to think of the two of them getting ice cream or something together, but she can’t recall him ever ordering anything for himself.

Across the blanket, Steve hums amusedly and smiles to himself, fiddling with a single grass blade between his fingers.

“He liked the apple pie at the diner, though. With a scoop of plain vanilla ice cream.”

“You guys went to the diner together?”

Steve’s face flushes a light pink and he shrugs again.

“Yeah? Quite a bit, actually. I think they still have his senior photo up by the register. Guy could demolish a burger.”

Max’s eyes mist over again, but she chews her lip and nods. Pushes a hand through her hair and turns her gaze down toward the blanket.

“I always thought he was, like, out partying or something.”

“We partied,” Steve admits. Shifts and lays down on his side, propping his head up in his hand. “But we usually… found somewhere quiet and just talked. Sometimes at the diner, sometimes the quarry, I think even the pool once or twice.”

He suppresses a grin as he thinks to himself, lightly nudging his sneaker against the stone. Like he’s unaware that it’s even there.

The line between Max’s brows deepens.

“If you guys were so close, then why weren’t you at his funeral?” she snaps.

Immediately, she cups a hand over her mouth, eyes widening as Steve glances at her again.

His brown eyes grow bigger for just a moment.

“I don’t know,” he confesses. A new heat rises to the surface of his skin, eyes becoming glassy. “Felt like maybe I wasn’t supposed…” he pauses to clear his throat before continuing, “I, ah, visit a lot, though.”

“You do?” Max blurts.

Steve nods. Nudges the slightly older, more brittle bouquet lying next to the fresh one with the tip of his shoe.

“Who do you think leaves the flowers?”

With her hand still clamped over her mouth, Max stares at him again.

“How often do you come here?”

“Oh, just… whenever,” he says. “Maybe like three or more times a week?”

“Three or more times a week?”

Now, Steve sits up, brows drawing together.

“What’s your deal? If I knew you were gonna freak out and yell at me about everything I say, I wouldn’t have agreed to come up here.”

Max holds her hands out in front of her.

“Okay, no, you’re right, I’m sorry,” she says. Sighs and rubs a hand over her face. “I guess I just… I dunno, we were never close, but I kinda always thought I knew him best. Now I’m finding out you guys were apparently linked at the hip, and he never… I didn’t even know he didn’t like sweet stuff…”

Her skin grows hot and her eyes well with tears again. Chapped and boiling over.

Steve’s expression relaxes, and he drops his shoulders.

“He wasn’t just secretive with you. Most of what I learned about him was just by observing,” Steve reassures. Then chuckles. “He was always calling me these stupid nicknames, and the one time I called him something back — angel face — he flipped and yelled at me. No idea why.”

Max sniffles and wipes her eyes with her palms, accepting the small bundle of napkins when Steve passes it over to her.

“Angel face?” she asks.

Suddenly, Steve looks away bashfully.

“Dunno, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing I said. He hated it, so I never used nicknames again.”

Max shakes her head, which earns a puzzled look.

“He didn’t hate nicknames,” she says. Glances briefly at the headstone and then away again. “Angel face is what his mom called him.” It feels like a betrayal, to say it out loud, and Max winces. “I overheard Neil mention it in their arguments once or twice.”

She fiddles with her pant leg in her lap for a moment. Looks up to see Steve’s eyes nearly overflowing with tears, staring at the headstone.

“Oh,” he croaks.

The sight, the sound of his voice has Max’s throat going tight.

She shifts in place. Watches as Steve takes a shaky breath and reaches up to wipe his eyes with the heel of his palm. Then, she’s pushing herself up and shuffling across the blanket on her knees, reaching her arms around his shoulders.

At first, he doesn’t react. Then there’s an arm stretching around her back.

Hugging him is exactly like she thought it would be. Like he’s comforting her, and not the other way around. Steady, grounding, like she knows him to be for others.

She makes a mental note to thank Robin later on.

“He really was a funny guy.”

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Crawling out of my cave for one more round.......

Eh, for that I'd have to subscribe to the idea that they didn't work at all in the outer rim as hard canon, which I don't. See I'm far too fond of Quinlan Vos. A character that has grown across multiple continuities from a random tall dark and handsome guy in the background on Tatooine in the phantom menace to beloved star of my heart. What exactly was he doing on Tatooine? Who knows, he is mysterious as the dark side of the moon. He works in the shadows. Why did he not interact with Qui Gon in TPM? Aside from the fact that he wasn't really a character then… maybe he was in deep cover. Maybe he had whole networks of lives on the line. Maybe he was helping an underground railroad. Maybe he was rescuing toddlers from the jaws of death while I Need A Hero played in the soundtrack

(it's not like there being no activity in the outer rim is an unfair extrapolation from just the film, mind, it's not just not a given. "the republic doesn't exist out here"- Shmi. "i didn't come here to free slaves"- Qui Gon. But Shmi did say the republic and can hardly be omniscient, and Qui Gon was talking about himself, as a guy on an entirely different mission with a ship full of political refugees being actively hunted down who ended up stranded entirely by accident on random planet number however many thousand that he nevertheless knew enough about to be the giver of exposition to the literal ruler of a neighboring planet and now that I think about it, that's sort of funny. The film is pretty clear on the jedi not being able to maintain justice across the entire galaxy, for sure, but it also doesn't argue that they don't do anything at all, and there's a pretty big difference between doing nothing and doing a bit, in my book.)

Anyway, on Mandalore. Is there an implication that Mandalore at that time wasn't worthy of aid? Obi Wan is sometimes loose with the truth, but even if he was exaggerating when he said that most of Satine's people were killed in the civil war, that's still a major level of brutality and civilian death. If more than half a world's population is getting killed, that's a huge crisis and tragedy. Is that alone not enough of a motive?

And then let's consider Deathwatch, the major faction that was active at that time. We get to know deathwatch in tcw. We see how they operate- they conquer a settlement, steal all their resources, kidnap all the young girls as hostages and force them to serve them. It's dark as shit. And they are explicitly imperial revivalists. I'm going to make a silly comparison, but imagine if like. Britain was in a civil war, and there was an army of far right extremists who were gaining ground in a reign of terror under a banner of rebuilding the british empire, with like maps of imperial britain on their flags and plans to take back the colonies etc etc. Would it be politically motivated to protect the leaders of the opposition to that when they were in exile with assassins after them? Sure. But like. Maybe the rest of the world doesn't want to have to deal with an attempt at british empire number 2.0, if they won their internal war. And I would say that's fair enough, actually. So maybe the "potential resource" they would gain is not having an army of mandalorians trying to invade planets and enslave people in 10 years time.

Intervention is a tricky thing though. We're all familiar with the damage missionaries can do, and with how 'soft power' is often exploitative. If this were a history book, the basic assumption would be that there's very little altruism in politics. But this is a story. The thing about Satine and Obi Wan is that we get a strong sense, from the very first arc about them, that Satine is not a client queen/puppet/corrupt and Obi Wan is not there to manipulate her on the chancellors behalf. This is, in fact, the plot of those three episodes. Satine is fiercely protective of Mandalorian independence, does trust the jedi as long as they're acting as an independent body, and Obi Wan actively helps her thwart not only deathwatch, but also Chancellor Palpatine's scheme to get Mandalore under his control. He explicitly does not subvert Mandalore on behalf of those controlling the republic.

And now I'm going to invite you to imagine Quinlan again. Standing on a sand dune, a breeze ruffling his hood, gazing out into the soft light of dawn, with a face that could have been chiseled by the gods,

Okay so I’m thinking about how Satine’s initial reaction to Obi Wan’s visit is really hostile until he explains he’s there on behalf of the jedi council, not the republic, causing her to immediately relax. How that whole arc is about her resisting republic attempts to encroach on Mandalore and the neutral system’s sovereignty and independence, and how she is so consistently insistent on that. And I’m thinking about Obi Wan’s description of his year on Mandalore during their civil war- how they were ‘living hand to mouth,’ aka they had little to no funding or resources for the mission, and also just the simple fact that… as far as I know Mandalore isn’t in the republic so how they operate there is fundamentally different to how they would operate on a republic planet?

So anyway I’m now convinced that that mission was not affiliated with or funded by the republic. This was a jedi operate independently sometimes sort of situation.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

I ran here after your response to that musical!reader headcanon and the mention of Jekyll and Hyde has me SWOONING.

I saw a local production where the woman playing Lucy went out into the audience during "Bring On The Men" and flirted with people, she even sat down on her friend's lap!

What if musical!reader did that to Viktor 🤭

OH MY G O D THATS SO COOL???

Viktor would DIE. Like actually just pass way. Stop breathing and ascend to the next plane of existence. Glorious Evolution TM.

Viktor is usually very appreciative of music. It's similar to mathematics, in many ways, equations of numbers and notes put together for a new and unique sounding result. He does enjoy theater as well from time to time: it requires a lot of practice, experience, trial and error... by that logic, musical theater should be an art form just as objectively interesting in his eyes.

If what you're doing on stage right now is musical theater, though, he's having a VERY hard time staying objective about it.

It's nothing short of dirty. From the corset that hugs your waist and reveals way too much of your generous chest, to the way you're spreading your legs invitingly for the entire audience to see, everything about you screams sex. He's absolutely transfixed, incapable of looking away from the way your hands touch your own body to the beat of the invisible orchestra.

He's only pulled away from the moment when some students a few seats away start loudly whistling and whooping for your attention, like this is a strip club and not a college play.

THAT'S when he starts to get mad.

He's suddenly very aware of the fact that there's about a hundred other people in the room, students and faculty members, watching the same performance he is. How many of them will imagine you in their bed tonight? How many of them are imagining you in their lap right now?

The smile on your lips speak louder than a thousand words: you're enjoying this, the thrill of the stage, the eyes undressing you while you sing your pretty little song about getting fucked by nameless strangers. Even worse, he's certain you're taking pleasure in knowing he's got front row seats for it, that you've effectively got him powerless and chained down while you're giving a show he should be the only one witnessing.

You've flipped over your roles as student and teacher, and now, he's the one who has to sit silently and drink every word from your lips. It's devilishly clever.

He would be genuinely impressed if he wasn't burying his nails into his cane with one hand and trying to cover the tent in his dress pants with the other.

The projector suddenly moves; it follows you as you're going down the few stairs from the stage to the floor, heels sharp against the concrete floor.

So lets bring on the men

And let the fun begin

Your eyes finally meet his. They're filled with bright sparkles from the stage lights, teasing and provoking. Tauntingly asking if he's ready for what's next, when you both know he doesn't have a say in the matter. The show must go on.

'Ah, shit' is the only thing that comes across his mind before you sit on his lap, the spotlight blinding him.

A little touch of sin

Why wait another minute?

Your movements are calculated and precise, applying just enough pressure on his clothed cock for you to feel how hard he is, without granting him any relief. The audience cheers; he thinks he's having an aneurism.

You bat your mascara heavy eyelashes at him, abandoning the play for a triumphant instant. 'See?' he can almost hear you say. 'I knew I'd get your attention eventually. What's your next move, professor?'

Oh, he is going to make you regret this.

[rozhliena]

mc x mammon

you construct intricate rituals in order to touch the skin of the avatar of greed, ambiguous season but i would venture it's still during s1 of the original game, mostly just palavering about the gaze nothing actually occurs

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul.

"Don't you get eyestrain?" you ask Mammon, tilting your head as you sink back into the pillows on your bed. "With the sunglasses." It isn't bright in your room, the lights set just shy of their dimmest mode as you get ready to go to bed, and neither is his D.D.D.'s brightness set high. But he wears them all the time anyway, even in the evening. "Or are your eyes just sensitive?"

From where he's leaning at the side of your bed, frantically tapping some blinking lights on his D.D.D., Mammon shakes his head. "Nah, my eyes are fine," he says. "I just like the look of 'em."

A fair, if somewhat odd, assessment. You can't say you dislike the look, either, which has grown as familiar as the sight of him in your room — you're actually not sure why he's here today. It just seems like a given, some routine you've fallen into. There are two toothbrushes in the bathroom connecting to the bedroom, and there is a hamper in the corner for clothes that aren't yours, though they never seem to make it into the basket without your help, and the extra hangers in your wardrobe have lately been put into use more often than not. It's not exactly normal, you know that, but it comes so naturally.

"Are you gambling on mobile games again?" you ask, reaching over to pluck the sunglasses off his face, wondering if you should feel amusement or concern at the fact that he hadn't reacted to the motion at all. But maybe that's natural to him, too. You look at the orange-tinted lenses curiously. "You probably shouldn't, you know."

"I'm gonna win this one, serious, y'know, statistically and shit — "

When you put the sunglasses on, they're slightly large on your face, and they really aren't special aside from being from a Devildom designer brand that sounds suspiciously similar to the human world's Gucci. A typical pair of polarized sunglasses. You sigh, pulling them off. You lean over to place them back on Mammon's face, slightly askew. "Still losing?" You know he is; he's already out of in-game currency. Sure enough, the lights on the animated slot machine go red.

"Hey! You jinxed me!" he complains, adjusting the crooked sunglasses as the plaintive whine of a loser's trombone plays from his phone's speakers, but he turns off the game and stretches across your bed. His eyes peek out above the tinted lenses of his sunglasses, toward you. Like he's expecting something. You wonder if he's even aware of the way he looks at you sometimes, so intently it seems to go right through to the back of your neck.

"What's up," you say.

His gaze shifts, lands on the second hamper in the room, half-filled with his clothes by someone who isn't him. He's thanked you for it before, but you wonder what he actually thinks about the entire thing. "I dunno. Just lookin'." At this angle, you can only make out the blue in his eyes.

You sit up. "Are demon eyes different from human eyes? Like, in terms of biology."

Mammon looks at you, a little incredulously, and then laughs. "Man, how the hell would I know that? I ain't a nerd like Satan."

You shrug, moving so you're facing him properly. "I don't know. But can I check?"

He grimaces, but he's already folding up his sunglasses and hooking them into the collar of his shirt. "Like, you're not gonna poke 'em or anything, right? Would you even know the difference between, y'know, human and demon eyes?"

"Maybe. I don't know." When you moved just now, your hand brushed against his, where below the knuckles is the faded smudge of a stamp he'd had to get at one of Beel's games. Identical to one on your own hand. The game itself hadn't been particularly intriguing, and what you remember more than anything else is that it had been cold that day. You and he had to huddle up together beneath a blanket, and Mammon's bony elbows poked into your ribs to such an extent that you wondered if it wasn't less comfortable in the blanket than outside of it. But when he turned to you, smiling sheepishly, looking at you the way he does, warmth bloomed in your chest and you couldn't even feel the ache over it.

Mammon looks at you the way he does and shrugs. "Whatever. All yours."

There's no way to make this seem normal, you know that. When you take his face in your hands you don't think too much about how easily his face fits against your palms as you angle his head toward the light. His cheeks are warm. He doesn't resist at all. "Don't close your eyes so I can look at your pupils."

It's not an order, but Mammon goes along with it anyway, though his eyes tremble a little, avoiding your gaze, when you lean in to inspect.

When the light hits them, the pupils constrict like they would in any other eye. Whenever Mammon looks over his sunglasses, his eyes are like the bright blue sky of the human world above a sea of sand, but up this close, they're entirely normal. The same pupils, irises, sclerae. Tear ducts. The delicate blood vessels along the white of the eye. Eyelashes, to keep out debris. It's almost disappointing. The only distinction anyone could make between his eyes and those of a human's is that his irises are unnaturally vivid and possess two colors, but even then, there are some humans with those same traits.

"I can't tell the difference," you admit. "They look like any other set of eyes."

The set in question flicks to yours, narrowing slightly. "Hey, just 'cause I'm being generous doesn't mean you can go lumpin' me in with everyone else." He reaches up, his hand finding purchase at one of your wrists like he's going to wrench you away from him, but he just keeps it there. "I'm the Great Mammon, y'know?" The warmth bleeds into your skin.

"I know that," you say softly, still not thinking. "Hey, close your eyes." Again, it's not an order, no force behind the words, but again Mammon obliges. His eyelashes are so light they're almost transparent. You brush the pad of your thumb over the thin skin of the eyelid, over the light oily sheen there. His closed eyes quiver beneath your touch.

"Does eyeshadow give you trouble?" you ask. "Because of your eyelids."

"Lil bit," he says. "When I do gigs I gotta prime 'em and carry those blotting things. But hey, I always end up lookin' good, yeah?" His mouth turns up in a contagious grin.

"You do." It comes out of your mouth so easily. His cheeks go warm at the admission, but he doesn't say anything this time. He's letting you feel around his eyes like it's nothing, and you think, maybe there isn't any real difference between demons and humans, after all. Eyes or otherwise. You let your fingers trace along his face to under the chin, angling his head upward. During the game, you had reached down to one of his arms and squeezed, not because it accomplished anything for heat, but because it was instinctual, like scratching an itch, or like blinking.

Your faces are so close. Kissing Mammon would be so simple — twist of the wrist, tilt of the head. You'd land his lips in one try; it would come naturally, and his mouth would be soft and warm. You wonder if he would let you kiss him.

Mammon's eyes flutter open. His grasp on your wrist tightens slightly. You can feel his breath on your face. Your own breath catches in your throat. "What're you doing?" he whispers.

"Just looking," you whisper back. He doesn't let go.

[igotanidea]

World's worst wingman: Jason Todd x reader (ft. Dick Grayson)

story borrowed from @gay-dorito-dust, thank you :)

Summary: Dick being Jason's wingman.

***

„Come on, just go do it!”

„No.”

„Why not?”

„Because.”

„Why are you being stubborn? I saw you eyeing her whole night! Seriously, if you keep bringing that face expression on, you will turn into an anime character and-“

Jason groaned and run fingers through his already messed up hair.

For the record – he had no idea that the object of his interest in the form of Y/N would be at this particular club tonight.

Well – maybe a faint idea. Just a vague concept of her whereabouts.

It wasn’t like he stalked her a little, getting to know her favorite places to hang out, her work and her home and the way she was using to commute to ensure its safety.

Definitely not.

But even if he did – there was no regrets in his actions with regards to that.

What he did regret though – was bringing Dick with him to act like some sort of wingman. Stupid. Idiotic. Completely reckless behavior. HE should have known better than that.

Instead of having a chance to talk to her, he was stuck by the table, trying to melt into the plush backrest of the couch behind his back, that happened to be the same color his face was turning into.

Forced to listen to his brother constant babbling how he can’t be such a coward and shy and antisocial and that she seemed to be a nice girl and why won’t Jason just get his ass up and –

“Shut up.” Jason muttered, edging the thin line between behaving and getting a temper tantrum.

“Ohhhh! Is my little Jaybrid getting flustered?” Dick teased, grinning like a madman, deriving almost sadistic pleasure from tormenting his brother.

“I’m getting so many regrets about telling you shit about her.”

“Oh, come on, don’t say it! That’s so not fair! I’m only here to help you, cause with the way you’re acting now I don’t see much chance to succeed in-”

“I’m going to get a drink!” Jason stood up from the table so abruptly that only by miracle it didn’t trip over.

“Oh yeah! That’s the spirit! And while you’re at it, can you bring me one more pina colada?”

It was all just a big fat joke to Dick.

***

“Hey, can I have a beer and a pina colada?” damn the second part of his sentence barely left his throat.

“that;s an unusual mix, istn;t it?” she chuckled grabbing a glass and starting to prepare the drink with learned precision.

“Yeah, it’s not for me – “ Jason stuttered, despite himself “It’s for-“

“You date?”

“huh?”

“That guy over there?” Y/N pointed towards the Dick, waving at her crazily across the club

“WHAT? He’s not my date! He- he’s my –“ it took a lot of effort from Jason to not address Dick as his prey, but somehow, gulping heavily and clenching fists he managed to calm down. Ish. “-brother. He’s my effing brother.”

“Oh, such a  relief!”

“Relief? Why?”

“Cause it means he’s not gay, huh?”

“Oh…”

Of course she was asking about Dick. How could a girl like her ever pay attention to a guy like Jason?

“Relax, I’m kidding. It’s only because of the drink. I mean – what kind of a man orders pina colada unless he’s playing on the other side of the field or has a particularly nasty sense of humor, right?”

“Are you always this observant?”

“You know, some people think I’m just  a bartender, but the truth? I’m also a watcher and a listener. You wouldn’t believe the amount of drunk girls crying their broken heart out on this particular counter.”

“Hah!” he chuckled. For some crazy reason her attitude was making him feel at ease. Like he could actually maybe stand a chance with her?

“So, here’s your pina colada and your beer. Enjoy.”

The second she handed him the beverages he knew the moment was over. He was a customer at the bar and she was working here. They were not friends and definitely not more.

“Yeah, um – thanks …” he muttered, retrieving back into himself, grabbing the mugg and a tall glass, heading back to Dick with sense of defeat inside him.

***

“Are you crazy?!”

“Stop yelling!”

“But are you crazy?!” with the way Dick was tugging at Jason’s shirt it was truly a miracle that the younger brother did not end up drenched in and reeking of beer. “You had a chance! It was the perfect opportunity and you’re back here?! Please tell me you at least asked her out!”

“I –“

“Holy shit, Jason, you totally blew it.” Dick rubbed his forehead “Tell me you told her, you liked her!”

“Well-“

“Ok, fine, fine. Let’s lower the bar and the expectations there then. Tell me you told her she’s pretty.”

“I’m not telling the cliché that any drunk man would!”

“You’re hopeless. You are totally hopeless. My god, did I teach you nothing during all those years?!”

“Shut up, Dick!”

Too bad it was too late and Dick was already on a highway to making a scene and the biggest commotion this little suburban club has ever seen.

“Dick!” Jason hissed, feeling all eyes on them. All eyes except Y/N’s who was apparently ending her shift, cleaning some of the stuff from the counter and filling in her colleague.

“Quick! Fast!” Dick started pushing Jason towards her direction.

Mistake.

A little tip: if you ever try to push a 6 ft and 200 pounds in any direction at all, make sure to make sure he expects it.

Otherwise, the mass of muscles may just subdue to the undeniable power of physics. Especially the gravity and the rules of dynamics. You know, the whole a body set in motion moves in a uniform motion and all shebang.

In Jason’s case it resulted in him losing the balance, falling backwards and stumbling upon unexpecting Y/N, crashing into her as they both ended on the floor with a very disturbing crack coming from somewhere.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Y/N? Are you okay? I am so sorry, I am so terribly sorry, how many fingers do you see-“

 “Ouch….” She groaned, reaching for the hand he was reaching towards her, letting him help her up. “Five?”

“Three. Close enough.”

“So you’re a sloth now?”

“huh?”

“Well, I said five fingers, you said three. Sloths have three fingers and – mh. Dry joke, sorry.”

“You must have hit your head pretty bad, huh?” he could swear to god, he had no idea where that joke came from, just slipped his mouth, but to his relief – she laughed. Not in a mean way, not at all. It was a genuine, happy laugh. He made her laugh.

“Yeah, maybe. I swear I am usually in a better shape.”

“I’d love to see that.” He muttered, and in his head it was just a though never spoken aloud, but when she tilted her head and gave him a funny look, Jason realized he actually did just that. Spoke up. Bared himself to rejection, teasing, hurt, pain, depression –”

“Ok.”

“Ok?” his eyes grew wider.

“Yes. Ok. I can give you a sample. And also you owe me.”

“Um, yeah, yeah, ok, so – “ he scratched his head awkwardly.

“I like coffee. And I have a day off tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay then so – “ say something you idiot! Say something! “there’s this little café at the 23rd and-“

“See you at 8.” She smiled, grabbed her coat and with a wave of her hand disappeared leaving him stunned.

He had a date. Ish. A meeting. A meeting with a girl he liked.

He could jump up from the sheer joy of this unexpected turn out of events, if it wasn;t for the one little fact ….

“RICHARD GRAYSON!!!”

The yelling could wake up the dead and sensing the incoming sequence of events, Dick quickly started moving through the crowd towards the exit.

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

It seemed that after Red Hood was done with his job, Nightwing would be excluded from patrolling that night.

[infinitysgrace]

can i just talk for a minute? I dunno how salty this is gonna come across tbh, but it just hit me that a lot of the "weird" writing choices done with adrien would make significantly more sense if he were still felix from the ml pv and wasn't actually supposed to be all that kind to ladybug with his own self serving motivations for getting the miraculous separate from the main bad guy be it hawkie boy or not, and from ladybug herself.

Like. why didn't ladybug tell him about [insert thing she definitely should be telling him]? because in that version of the show he either might just already know (in the case of hawkie boy being his dad) or they aren't making shit up and it actually would be dangerous for him to have that information since he and ladybug aren't partners and aren't actually on the same side in all this (anything regarding the miraculous, how they work, secret identities, etc).

Why would everything that went on with him at the end of season five happen? because in that version of the show instead of him just not being in the right headspace for it (which is fine by the way), it'd be a sign of him actually giving up his self serving motives for the greater good. stopping his dad is more important than whatever he would be using the wish for, and again he and ladybug aren't close in this version so him returning the ring would be a show of growth.

Like. all this to just reiterate, i think when they changed pv felix to adrien, they just ripped whatever character writing they had planned for him and then sloppily pasted it over a character that doesn't match what they were writing anymore instead of writing something different. I think that might just be what they mean when they say they were "planning this from the beginning." Just them refusing to rewrite a character despite literally changing the character into someone else.

[buckbuckleykinard]

here's a little snippet from a fic i probably wont ever finish but may repurpose into something else

He curls his legs into his chest and presses the warm glass of his phone screen to his ear.  With his free hand, he drags his fingers across the rough, night cold grit of the stone beneath them, just to feel the scratch against his skin.  Little grits of sand and moss lift up and stick in the whorls of his fingerprints as his phone rings once, twice, three times–

“Evan?  Are you okay”

Tommy’s voice is drowned out a little by the distant but unmistakable sound of chopper blades whirring to a stop.  It’s only 6pm in L.A. and Tommy is still on shift.

“Shit, you’re at work.  Sorry.  I forgot about the time difference.  I’m fine I–”

“It’s okay.  We just got back from a call, just give me a second to get somewhere quieter and I can talk.”

Buck considers telling him it’s fine, that he’s fine, that his crisis can wait till Tommy isn’t at the tail-end of a 24 but the problem with that is that he wants. And maybe he’s selfish and childish and all the terrible things his parents think he is but maybe Tommy wants, too.  

Because Tommy answered his call.

“Okay, I’m in the bunks now.  How are you?  How are your parents?”

“I'm good.” A lie. “My parents are fine.  How they usually are.”  The painful truth.

A semi truck speeds by, blaring its horn at nothing, headlights cutting through the dusty blue evening.

“How are they usually?”

Mean, Buck wants to say.  Careless, oblivious, belittling.  Maddie always says they’re not bad people, just bad parents, and he has always parroted it back.  He feels like he’s said it so often that it had just become true, but at the time he hadn’t been around them.  It was easier to put on some rose-coloured glasses and pretend that things were better than they actually were, or at least less painful.

“I don’t think they like me very much.” Maybe it’s too honest but he finds the more they talk, the more he wants to be honest with Tommy.  Some wicked part of him thinks that maybe if he shows this man the ugly, jealous rot of his insides, that he’ll leave before it hurts too much.  That it won’t be like Abby, who he’d thought he loved, or Taylor who he knew he did.

His parents loved Daniel, and how fucked up is it that he’s jealous of someone whose dead.  Then again, maybe they're more alike than he thought because yes, they had loved him, but they erased him too.  They scrubbed their lives clean of him, threw out his things and painted over the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling.  Maybe the only difference is that Buck is still alive.

“Yeah?” Tommy says, a little probing but kind.  Buck knows that if he dropped it, if he moved on to something lighter, that Tommy would let him.

“They repainted my room”  He knows it's ridiculous as soon as it comes out of his mouth.

“They didn’t tell you they were going to?”  Tommy asks, like this is a completely normal thing for an adult man to be upset about.

“No, they didn’t say anything.  They threw out all my stuff too.  Not that there was a lot there, but stil–”

“They should have at least given you the opportunity to come get what you wanted to keep.”

“Yeah, exactly!”  He says with a chuckle.  “I mean, I’m pretty sure my skateboard was still in the closet up there.  They’re not cheap, you know.”

“You skateboard?”  Tommy asks.  Buck swears that he can hear the smile in his voice.  

“I used to, sort of.  I'm pretty sure I spent more time falling off than actually riding.”

“God, you were a total punk in high school, weren’t you?”  Tommy laughs.  It’s nice, like warm honey settling low in Buck’s stomach. 

“Oh, definitely.  I think I spent most of my childhood injured in one way or another.”  It’s hard for him, looking back, to find a memory that doesn’t include bandages or a cast or a sling of some kind.

“You know, considering that the first time we met was flying a helicopter into a hurricane, I’m really not surprised to find out that you’re incredibly reckless with your own safety.”

“I had a motorcycle, too.  Got it basically as soon as I learned how to drive.”

“God, Evan.”  His voice is still tinged with amusement.  It floors him a little, how Tommy had managed to steer the conversation away from his morose family musings toward something lighter.  It makes Buck want to run through every time he’s ever almost died.  Chase away the amusement and ruin this on purpose before he does it by accident.

“Does it bother you?”

“Depends on why you're doing it.”  Tommy doesn’t ask what he means, doesn’t need to.  Buck wonders if he can smell his insecurities through the phone line.  He waits for Tommy to continue.

“Every time you go into work, you put yourself in dangerous situations to save lives.  So do I.  That’s the job.”  Buck can hear some shifting from Tommy’s end, tries to imagine him sitting on the edge of one of the bunks at the Harbour station, phone pressed against his ear.  Maybe he’s gotten more comfortable, lying down, eyes closed as he tries to get a little bit of rest between calls.  They shouldn’t be having this conversation over the phone, but the thought of having to do this in person, to have to look Tommy in the eyes and ask to be soothed, sends a chill through him that's much stronger than the one caused by the rapidly cooling evening air.

Some kind of sports car speeds by, music thundering through the closed windows as it slows around the corner and disappears.

“But being reckless with your life because the only time you felt like your parents looked after you was when you were hurting?  Yeah, that bothers me.”

And there it is, The Breaking Point.  He’s found a way to push Tommy too far.  Tommy, who’d already given him far more chances than he deserved.

“I mean, I’m familiar with shitty parents, believe me, but if I made my kid feel so unloved that they thought they had to hurt themselves to get my attention, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself.”

Huh.

That’s unexpected.

“Evan?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.”  There is another beat of silence.

“Sorry, if I overstepped.  I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t.”  Buck says, definitively.  “I’ve just never really had anyone see it like that?”

“Like what?  What do you mean?”

“Like my reckless behaviour isn’t some sort of defect of my personality.  Like maybe, I was hurting, too."

[velvetvexations]

--- somehow i don't think the trans radfem movement thinks aphobia is a fine word to exist

It's almost quaint. Almost.

Why is there a wave of trans radfems defending 4chan boards

I'm going to need to be pointed to this if only because I'm going to get dinged for spreading malicious lies about trans women being "Nazis" otherwise, but lmfao if true.

wtf kind of hill is txttletale dying on now?

I mean she's still a tankie fuck but apparently now she's also getting in on the transmisogynistic harassment campaign game.

isn't "doll" specifically a fetish term? that is really not something people should be applying to other people without making sure it's ok first.

No, it's a Black ballroom term that trans women started running with.

People on this site are taking pissing on the poor to a whole new goddamn level “telling people that this person is/has sexually harassed someone who was a minor is calling everyone with their identity a pedophile”, I’d blame the school system but that really was a choice not to actually read and relay

it's definitely malicious

joan jett in the mv for i hate myself for loving you is like, unbearably beautiful

so true

it’s so obvious that these people choose to isolate themselves in a dimension crafted out of their own self-hatred that they care more about hurting their oppressors (and people who don’t even oppress them) than uplifting people hurt by systems of oppression. sometimes i think i’m bad but then i come across people like that and realise i’m relatively well-adjusted

inspiring innit

post addressed to trans women from a trans woman about trans women –> trfs in the notes: “why are you telling me to be nice to trans men?”

they have their priorities

absolutely wild to say that transunitists are 2010-reddit-style mras and then say things like "afab privilege." yeah those afabs with their wielding of power. and i bet they get free drinks at every bar and their bosses promote them for being pretty, huh.

they get upset at having their logic compared to MRAs because it's implicit misgendering (never mind that they directly call random trans men MRAs and radfems as well) but I'm not sure what they expect when they talk at length about how all of those fucking evil AFAB bitches are just waiting for their chance to screw you over with a false rape accusation

"pick me" is AAVE, and, like all white girls, they're overusing and misusing it until it has no meaning left 🙄

I actually wasn't aware of that. Neat. Disputed? See replies.

a lot of this going on is just reminding me once again of the intense monogenderism that really never gets worked on. It’s super awkward as a multigendered individual and an intersex one

it also just really feels so fucking tone ignorant the way people talk.

society still calls traits of men or masc, some even actively choose to agree while still being a counter to it gender but obviously real trans women don’t so attacking those things would never hurt them, and multigender trans woman who are also men? Obviously fake.

the English language is so fucking insufficient

I honestly wish every asshole who seems to think the ability to mask as complete cis and definitely just your assigned gender is a privilege had to live in my head for the holiday season. I am entirely in the closet with my family because of bigotry I have no other choice than living with my family for multiple reasons I just spent the entire winter holiday pretending to be a woman answering to my deadname being called aunty and sister and daughter and not being able to say jack shit about it without even being able to retreat to the solace of my friends afterwards because they are all busy with their own families. I want those assholes to experience the emotions and thoughts I just went through and come out the otherside and see if they still think that this is a fucking privilege.

Love you anon. <3

that anon telling on themselves so hard saying transmisogynys "far deeper" than transphobia. literally why on earth would you phrase it like that if the point was anything besides "my *special* oppression is way more poignant and meaningful than your boring regular oppression"

lmao right though it's so obviously just trying to mark their thing as having more dramatic flair

do you keep a backup of your blog with a program like tumblthree? there's a lot of valuable posts on it, and tumblr is almost distressingly transitory.

I don't, but noted.

[alwaysmicado]

Callisto II - Update

Believe it or not, but after months of zero inspiration, I've written 2k words for it today 🥹. Feels great. I've also finally settled on the overall mood of this part and I think you're going to like it. There's still no end in sight, BUT I'm not dreading this fic anymore. That's a start.

Thank you for your patience & your wonderful DMs about the story & for sticking around! 🤍 Please accept this random snippet as a token of my undying love for you all (it's long lol):

[You’re in the elevator with your neighbor. He’s older and a sleaze bag. You have a soft spot for him.]

You press the lobby button again even though it’s already lit. “You okay? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

His smirk twitches, revealing something almost vulnerable. Almost. “You miss me?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ethan. Just wanna know if I need to go back and get the Narcan.”

That earns a chuckle, hoarse and dry, but it’s something. “Relax. I’m fine. Just a rough week.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask. “‘Cause you look like you’re coming off a bender.”

“You’re worried about me,” he says, leaning closer, his grin faint but there. “Admit it.”

“I’m not worried,” you snap, but your tone lacks conviction. “It’s just… dude, you look like hammered shit. When’s the last time you even slept?”

He tries for a shrug, though it’s more like a slump against the cold metal wall. “Tuesday, maybe Wednesday? Hard to keep track.”

“It’s Friday,” you point out, your voice softer now. “You need to get your shit together.”

He leans his head back against the elevator wall, exhaling so hard you almost feel it. For a moment, you think he might actually tell you what’s going on, but then his eyes flick to your hand, and his brow creases in concern. “What happened there?”

You glance at the wrist brace, flexing your fingers instinctively. “Nothing. Just a stupid accident.”

“Stupid accident,” Ethan repeats, his voice softening just enough to catch you off guard. “You get in a fight or something?”

“No,” you say quickly, but his raised eyebrow confirms he doesn’t believe you. “It’s nothing. Don’t start.”

“Hm.” He looks you up and down, like he’s waiting for you to crack. “You wanna come over later and hang out? I got a movie lined up.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What, Buffalo ‘66?”

“If that’s what you’re into.” He snorts, sounding more like himself. “Shoulda told me sooner. You know how I live to please.”

You can’t help a half-smile, but no. Not going there. You clear your throat. “How’s your wife, Ethan?”

“She’s good, she’s good,” he sighs, casual as always. “Travelling, hitting the slopes, spending my money, getting her back blown out by some college kid. You know, the regular.”

You scoff. “Not gonna lie, that sounds pretty good. And all she has to do is stay married to you?”

He arches a brow. “You proposing, sweetheart?”

“Nah, I’d be a terrible trophy wife. I’d torch your suits the first time I found your secretary’s lipstick on your shirt. And key your dumb car. And step on your balls.”

“Keep talking dirty to me like that and I’ll drive us straight to the courthouse, baby,” he drawls, a little more life in his voice. 

You roll your eyes but your lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “You always know how to cheer me up, you know that?”

He tilts his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod and furrow your brow. “It’s funny, I talk to you for a minute and I realize that maybe my dumpster fire of a life isn’t that bad. Like, it could be worse.”

He gives a dry chuckle. “You’re welcome, I guess.” He notices your injured hand again, concern flickering across his tired features. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” you say exasperatedly. “Never been better.”

He eyes you carefully, his expression unexpectedly gentle. “You’re too young to have that look on your face.”

You bristle. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about life being far too short to spend it being unhappy,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. “Trust me.”

“Like I’m gonna take advice from you,” you say, crossing your arms as your pulse does that weird stutter.

Ethan offers a vague smile, and a muscle in his jaw tightens beneath the bruise. “I’m not saying you should,” he murmurs. “Just wish someone had told me that a long time ago, that’s all.”

Series Masterlist • Main Masterlist • Inbox • AO3

Let me know if you want to be tagged! ♡

[jewishbarbies]

I think that a huge part of unpacking antisemitism is recognising one’s capacity for evil. I think a lot of leftists and liberals cannot accept that are antisemitic or can be antisemitic because they truly believe that they cannot do any wrong, or at least anything wrong to that degree. They truly believe that they themselves cannot be racist, they themselves cannot be antisemitic, they themselves cannot be homophobic, etc, so they don’t see anything wrong with the things that they perpetuate. That’s why the “it’s not antisemitism, it’s anti Zionism!” shit spread so fast, because antisemitism = bad, and recognising that what they’re saying is antisemitic would be recognising that they themselves are maybe not bad people, but are spreading bad rhetoric. So they needed something to oppose their rhetoric that they could call “bad” instead, which in this case is Zionism. Now I don’t have any dog in this fight when it comes to imposing morality or immorality upon the concept of Zionism because I myself am not a Jewish or Israeli person, but this is just something that came across my mind earlier today when I was thinking about my own morals, beliefs, and feelings and how sometimes I truly find myself unable to at first empathise with certain people and I started thinking about my own capacity for what either is evil or may be perceived as evil. I don’t think people have to go as far as thinking that they’re a psychopath or something, but just actually recognising that you’re not a perfect person and that you will have biases that may be harmful to other groups of people and opening yourself up to unpacking and dealing with them can go a long way because thinking that you’re a great person who could never commit such atrocities (like being racist and/or antisemitic, etc) creates this weird sense of leftist or liberal narcissism.

this is really well worded.

many if not all leftist spaces lack the room for self reflection to the detriment of everyone in them. leftism doesn’t teach self reflection, only projection, so they’ve never actually unpacked any of the biases and bigotries required to be as good a person as they claim to be by virtue of being a leftist. they want to be good so bad but they’re intellectually incapable of committing to that work, it takes too long and it’s not something you can post about with a hashtag. truly, even just as a human being, they need to look inward.

[1toreyouapart]

Right Through Me

***FANFICTION THAT INVOLVES REAL PEOPLE. DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT. 18+ MDNI***

Rae arrives on her former best friend’s doorstep, asking only for a place to stay while she gets back on her feet after moving across the country to escape her ex. Nick gladly opens his door to her, quickly pulling her into the fold with his friends and band mates.

Noah is just trying to survive. He wants to make it. Needs it. He has no time for anything other than the band. He’s got a point to prove. Nick’s friend challenges that and upends his entire world. She drives him crazy with her laid back, carefree ways.

Everyone can see the collision coming from a mile away, and nobody can stop it. Much less the two of them. Who will make it out in the end?

CW/TW: domestic violence, miscarriage, alcohol use, swearing, smoking, tobacco/vape use, smut, more to come as story is written.

So You’ll Do It?

“So. You’re joining us next month to help with merch?”

Rae turned to look at Matt. She hadn’t quite said yes to Noah or Folio. The offer was tempting. Not like she had anything else going on. And she could use the money. It wouldn’t be long before she ran out of it, and she didn’t want to rely even more on Folio when that happened. She cast a glance towards the kitchen where she saw Noah snicker before turning back to the stove. The little shit that he was.

“It appears I am. Yes.”

“Good. We could use the help. When does that come off?” He nodded towards her sling.

“About a week.”

She leaned back against the chair, keeping herself focused on the coffee table in front of her. A week she had been here. Most of it spent hanging out with Noah and Folio. Mostly Noah. Folio always had shit going on, and now with Sean out she was anxious. Didn’t matter that she was thousands of miles away. Nearly a two day drive away. So, any time Folio would be out for a bit she was here at Noah’s. It was how she ended up there today.

“Alright. Assuming there’s restrictions once it’s off?” Matt was all business. She kind of appreciated it.

“Yeah. Uh. 25 pound lifting limit and I can’t do certain motions with it for another six weeks after it’s off.”

Matt nodded, humming as he thought. Nervous she glanced back towards the kitchen. Noah was quick at work chopping something, looking up just long enough to give her a little half smile and nod of his head.

“We’ll have some stuff to figure out, but we’ve got nearly a month to figure it out. Welcome to the team.”

“It’s fine, Matt. I’ll help with the load in and load out for her.” Noah called from the kitchen as he dumped whatever he had been chopping into a pan.

“I’m not-“

“A charity case. I know. You tell me every day. However, you are injured. It’s not charity. It’s helping a friend.”

Rae paused. She had actually been about to say something different. Maybe she had told him that too much. Oops.

“I mean, I was going to say I’m not incapable of doing things.”

Noah laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t so bad. Good God, he worked a lot, though. Almost always on his phone talking with Matt or the record label. And when he wasn’t doing that he was working on stuff for other bands. Always staying busy and productive. She was a little shocked he wasn’t on his phone right then.

“Noah’s got the right thinking, though. Those boxes are heavy. Don’t need you down to one arm again because you’re doing too much.” Matt interjected. “Anyway. I gotta run. Glad we could nail you down. Gotta keep fine tuning mixes.”

“Thanks, Matt. I’ll call you later about how we’re gonna do all this.”

“Later man,” Matt called over his shoulder as he headed out.

Rae sighed, listening as Noah’s music started back up again. Much like her he seemed to never do anything without music playing. Sean had always hated that. And God forbid she use headphones. Then she couldn’t hear him when he was yelling at her.

Anxiety bubbled low in her belly. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, sweat breaking out on her brow. Sean was going to find her. Maybe he already had. And then what would she do? She didn’t know the first thing about defending herself. Fuck. What if he found her here, at Noah’s? He would kill him, and all he was doing was being kind. Oh, fuck.

“Hey, Princess. You good?”

Noah knelt before her, holding her face in his hands. The worry in those deep brown eyes of hers almost broke her. Almost. She was stronger than that. If she could survive Sean she could handle a little concern thrown her way. Shaking her head she forced a smile, forcing the thoughts away.

“I’m fine.” She nodded quickly. “I’m fine.”

“I beg to differ, friend. You were damn near catatonic just now. Where did that pretty little head of yours go?” His thumb stroked her cheek as he spoke, soothing her slightly.

She wanted so badly to blurt it all out. To tell someone what she had been through. Get this giant elephant off her chest. Maybe she should? If Sean found her it was best someone knew. But she couldn’t tell anyone. Not yet. Telling someone meant she was a victim. Meant she was weak.

“I’m fine, Noah. Just thinking about stuff.” She kept her voice soft, her tone reassuring. Something she had learned to do to avoid Sean screaming and yelling. Avoid him throwing things. Him hitting her.

“Why don’t you come in the kitchen with me?” His eyes searched hers, clearly not believing her. “I could use your opinion on this sauce.”

“It smells amazing. You don’t need me in there.” Rae laughed, averting her gaze finally.

“Either you come with me willingly or I carry you in there. Choice is yours, Princess.” He smirked, challenging her.

Goddamn it.

“Noah-“

“Ope. Looks like I’m carrying you in there.”

Noah stood up, leaning back down, a triumphant grin on his face as he scooped her up. Her stomach lurched as he lifted her easily, heart racing. Squealing she wrapped her arms around his neck. She couldn’t help the swirl of butterflies in her belly as he carried her into the kitchen, depositing her on the counter. Nobody had ever carried her like that before. And Noah was doing it with a smile on his face, almost smug.

“Goddamn it. Noah, you can’t just make me do what you want.” Flustered she rubbed her palms on her thighs, willing away the blush creeping up her cheeks.

“You were in your head.” He shrugged, like it was really that simple. “Plus, what girl doesn’t like being swept off her feet?” He winked as he went back to cooking, humming along to the music.

She would have crossed her arms over her chest if she could have. Instead she settled for glaring at him as he pulled out a spoon, dipping it in the sauce he was making. Rae watched as he blew on it, cooling it off. God. He was such a smug little asshole sometimes. Always making her do things when she didn’t want to. Distracting her. Making her find her love of the small things again.

“Taste.” Not a question, an order as he brought the spoon up to her lips.

Rae stared at him, arching her brow. Eventually he would have to figure out that he couldn’t just make her do what he wanted.

“Rae. Open.”

She couldn’t help it. Something in the way he spoke to her, how he looked her in the eyes. Slowly her mouth opened, though she arched a brow in defiance.

Noah stuck the spoon in her mouth and she closed her lips around it, all the while keeping her eyes trained on his. Thyme, basil and garlic danced on her tongue, balancing out the sweetness of the tomato. Her eyes still trained on his she pulled back, swallowing.

Heart rate spiking she finally averted her eyes, looking down at the floor. That was quite possibly the most intimate thing she had ever done. How he had looked her in the eyes, held her gaze as he put the spoon in her mouth. The way his eyes had softened the as she took the spoon in her mouth and swallowed.

“It’s good.” Her voice cracked on the last word, heart beating frantically in her chest. “Noah. You can’t just go carrying girls like that under the guise of getting them out of their head.”

“And why can’t I pick you up like that, Princess?” He got right to the heart of it, like the perceptive little shit he was.

“Might make a girl think you care when you don’t,” she deflected. She was giving him dating tips. That was it.

“Huh. But what if I do care and want to carry you like that?”

“I’m not talking about me, Noah. I’m saying in general. Some girls might get offended by that.” She looked up at him, fighting the urge to kiss him. Five weeks since she had left Sean. She shouldn’t be having these butterflies over anyone, much less someone she had only known a week.

Noah moved in front of her, his hands gripping her thighs. She watched with bated breath as he pushed her thighs apart, stepping between them. Watched as he leaned in close, face hovering maybe an inch from hers, his eyes searching. A dull ache formed between her thighs as he looked at her, and it took everything in her to refrain from clenching her thighs around him.

“See, I kind of like how easy it is to just pick you up. How fucking easy it would be to kiss you right now,” he muttered, fingers tangling in her hair. “And I really like the idea of me personally erasing every memory you have of him.”

Right at the moment his lips touched hers, gentle, asking permission, Folio walked in.

“Goddamn it, Noah! You’re not allowed to fuck my best friend!”

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lacy1986 @supersquirrel1996 @mrscevans @ichoosetenderomens @dontwantthemoney @concretejunglefm

[venomous-qwille]

Dear 5+ asks I have had since last saturday which I wont be answering individually cause I don't want to put a target on your back:

Don't send me messages asking about GITM updates without reading my bajillion posts/ANs on the subject.

'not trying to be rude' - well you are being rude, actually, friend. receiving these messages doesnt make me feel good. In fact, it makes me feel very bad. If you spent half the effort it takes to write an ask actually reading the information I have already given people, rather than demanding a personalised answer, then we would all be a lot happier.

Another reminder, a bit louder for people in the back:

My chapters are now 12-15k words each for gitm, because of this I am now following a 3 weekly update schedule. I work full time and write for hours every evening. If that is not good enough for you, you can kindly fuck off.

peace & love, and all that

[mxtxfanatic]

Just for the record, I actually don’t hate any mdzs character. Mxtx’s stories are so well-crafted that I love the roles that every character plays. I love the chills and digust that Jin Guangyao inspires in me. I loved the hatred that Xue Yang causes to flare up in me when I reread the Yi City arc. I love the amusement I get every time Jiang Cheng lives up to his failed-hero role, doubly so when I remember that he is also a failed-villain because Xue Yang is actually the better version of him lmao. I love dissecting Nie Mingjue’s hypocrisy in what it means when Wei Wuxian thinks of him as an “upholder of morality.” I love the pity that I feel for Lan Xichen such that I struggle to commit to how I view him just like how he struggles with how to view those he loves. And the complexity and diversity of each character’s life experiences and autonomous choices is the icing on the cake that makes fans’ (me included) obsessions over them wholly understandable.

What I hate is feeling coerced into liking a character how fandom wants me to like them, especially if the “evidence” supporting liking said character is just popular fanon that the fandom has taken as gospel truth. The more I feel pressured into ignoring a character’s canon personality to adopt a fanfic version of them whose only similarity is that they share a name, the harsher I want to be with my critique of them. Don’t give me morally righteous!Nie Mingjue who totally would’ve defended the Wen and I won’t give you hypocrite!Nie Mingjue who deserved to be cut into pieces, just not by the person who did it. Don’t give me best brother, best jiujiu!Jiang Cheng and I won’t give you pathetic manbaby!Jiang Cheng who deserved to have Wei Wuxian’s golden core removed from him the hard way for his ungratefulness and for his sister to come back to life to bitch slap him for how he treats her son. Don’t give me best bro wangxian shipper!Lan Xichen and I won’t give you morally weak!Lan Xichen who deserved every bit of the psychological torture Nie Huaisang put him through for his inability to truly stand by any of his brothers, biological or sworn.

Don’t give me some “everyone is secretly good with no flaws” bullshit and I won’t feel the need to balance it out by listing every single one of their sins and nailing it to the door like Martin Luther. I like these characters. Don’t turn me into a hater, cause if you think I’m mean now? Lol