#are and shit. and how fucking unfair is it that.. like it sounds so selfish and entitled. b it how fucking unfair is it that i got a mom who

[pepprs]

beaver gnawing on wood noises

[icallhimjoey]

okay so what if for once joe was the drama queen cos he’s Big Mad over some stuff…how would that play out

this guy's a whole idiot, im not sure i like him all that much... Wordcount: 2.3K

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I Prefer The Moon Anyway

“I’m sorry...”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe was being an unreasonable little bitch boy.

“I said I’m sorry.”

But Joe is right there, ignoring you, and you’re apologising just to apologise. You know he wants to hear it, so you’re giving him the words, even if they’re empty.

“I heard you.” Joe’s remark is cold. He can tell you don’t mean it. That you are just avoiding a fight. He doesn’t blame you, he wants a fight even less than you, but you’re annoying him in a way he doesn’t have the words for.

If someone was to ask him without you in the room, he’d tell them this is the exact point of a relationship at which he’d usually turn into stone. This is where he grows numb. Cares less. Starts to protect himself in silence and prepares for the inevitable break up that’s coming.

The beginning of the end.

“But what do you want me to do?” you ask, sounding a little more desperate and helpless than you want, but you can’t help it. Joe’s asking something ridiculously unreasonable. Something you can’t give him. Don’t want to give him. It doesn’t help that you think he’s actually being a dramatic baby who feels like he’s not gotten enough attention. A coddled man who wants the whole world to bend to his needs.

Joe just shrugs. Knows exactly what he wants you to do.

And to be fair, the world has bent to his needs for ages, so who is to blame him for expecting you to do the same?

Joe’s pouting.

He looks like a child who’s overdoing a sad face to get a little empathy from his classmates. Like the kids all across the playground need to see that he’s hurt. Like he needs to guilt-trip them into giving him the toy that he allegedly saw first so he stops crying and they can all be friends again.

You fucking hate it.

“Can you hear yourself, though?” you try for some logic. For some critical thinking skills. Does he see, in the grand scheme of things, how utterly ridiculous he’s being?

Joe shrugs again, but this time it’s conspicuously uninvolved. Like he doesn’t give a single shit about how unreasonable he’s being. He’s gone from acting like you’re burning down the whole world to suddenly acting like he’d rather live on the moon anyway. Burn it, bitch. Whatever. He couldn’t care less.  

He won’t reach out to touch you tonight. He’s going to break your one rule if you keep this up. All because of schedules that never seem to coordinate – something that’s neither his fault or yours.

“I sure can. Can you?” Joe bites back, wants to hear a sincere apology from you. He wants to hear in your voice that he’s right and that he’s not selfish for wanting what he wants. For feeling the way he feels. Not his fault he loves you.

That’s what he’ll bring it back to – always.

He just loves you a lot.

How can you hate him for that, Big Wet Brown Sad Eyes™? Hmm?

Which... it’s so unfair.

And selfish.

He wants you to drop everything at a moment’s notice because he needs you right now. Doesn’t give a shit about what you need.

It’s fucking selfish, is what it is.

And the problem is that Joe’s selfishness is exactly what’s put you where you are now, in his living room, in a weird fight that you would both rather not be a part of.

“Please repeat what you’re asking of me.” You narrow your eyes at him as you look over your shoulder, convinced that he knows he’s wrong and that he should be the one apologising to you.

“Is it too much to ask of my girlfriend to spend time with me?” 

You sigh. You’re so frustrated. That’s not what he’s asking of you - that’s what he’s dressing it up as, which is unfair. What Joe’s asking is for you to drop your work at a moment’s notice because he’s suddenly found an evening off in his schedule and he decided he wants to spend it with you. But he hasn’t actually checked to see if you have the time. Just assumed that you did.

A risky assumption to make.

Because you don’t.

“You know I barely get any time to myself, I don’t know when I’ll have a night off next... could be weeks.” Joe places both hands on your shoulders to give you a little squeeze there. Massages the muscles in places he knows are tight just from the look of you. Gets his mouth close to your ear and lowly says, “Come on, baby. It’s just one night.”

You need to finish work.

There’s a deadline tomorrow you need to make, no questions asked.

Your evening plans surround you and your laptop and a wifi connection, and you were hoping you’d maybe get to sit in the same room as Joe as he would do some work of his own. Some prep for next day’s scenes. Some reading, some rehearsing.

Not this.

Not Joe trying to coax you into a bad performance review just because he felt bored that one night he suddenly found himself with a hole in his agenda.

“I’m here,” you say dryly, but you know that’s not what he means. “You can spend time with me whilst I finish all of this up.”

Joe communicates it with a look. A drop of his face and shoulders, letting you go and stepping away. Eyes rolling because, that’s not fair. He wants to take you out. Go some place nice. Talk and laugh and spend some actual time with you. See if some of his other current colleagues want to join, so he can introduce you. 

And it’s awful because that’s what you want too. But you feel like you’ve wanted that a million times, and every time you’ve tried to plan something, Joe’s been busy. Always so busy. Table reads, night shoots, long hours, long commutes, a party here, an event there. And it’s always, “Babe, it’s for work, I can’t just cancel.” 

Yet, that’s exactly what he’s asking of you now. 

“I don’t know why you assume that your time is more valuable than mine.” 

“I don’t think that at all! When have I ever said that?”

It’s how he’s acting. It says enough.

“Listen to what you’re saying; you’ve got a bit of free time. You do. You. Not me though. Not tonight. Does that sound familiar? At all?”

The tables have turned, just this once. He can just fucking deal with it like you have all those times before.

“Don’t. You know that’s not–”

“So your job is more important than mine?”

It pays more, Joe thinks immediately, but refrains from speaking the words into the room. Knows that won’t help, but it’s definitely telling how quick the comeback came to him.

“Hmm? Your time more important than mine?” You push.

Joe needs to realise that, if that’s actually how he feels, how outrageous the thought is. Just by your face, he needs to feel how those thoughts need reevaluating.

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

You’re not. You’re just reading his body-language.

“Your priority is you. You have a free minute and so I’m supposed to just work my way around your schedule and– mind you, you didn’t even know about this until this afternoon! This deadline at work has been there for months!”

You should’ve stayed at the office.

Finished up there.

Joe is pacing now. Walking around his own living room with flared nostrils, taking in your words until you leave enough room for him to say anything.

Which, when he finally gets a chance, he drops an insane bombshell.

“Well, if you hadn’t procrastinated everything until the night before, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are right now.”

Oh, what the fuck? 

Did it take too long for you to set the world alight? Did Joe think it necessary to douse it in petrol and hold a lit match between two fingers a little too loosely? One small move from you could be used as an excuse to drop it, and full blame could be placed with you.

Clever.

But so are you.

You don’t make a move.

Not a single fucking muscle.

You just stare at him over your laptop screen.

Frozen in place.

And Joe stares right back.

It’s like a fucking duel.

You remember a time where you were in Joe’s shoes. The ones he’s wearing right now. The difference being that, back then, there were actual plans made that you’d been looking forward to, and then two days before, Joe complained about having to cancel on seeing family. He added that it’d be the third time he had to dip out on something, and how that made him feel like an awful person, but his job was just too demanding right now. People wanted him everywhere, all of the time, and whilst he typed away at his phone to apologise to his mum, he didn’t see how your face fell too, because you knew if he was telling family members he couldn’t make it to something, he was also going to have to cancel on you.

Again.

You’d cried, then. Only silently. Wiped a tear away quickly and masked a sniff as a deep breath, because you didn’t want him to feel worse.

Trust Joe to feel guilty for having to cancel on family for the third time and forget about the person in the room with him.

You then wondered if he ever kept count with you.

“You okay?” he had asked when you’d fallen silent, and you’d smiled and nodded. “Yea, just tired.” which wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the full truth that Joe accepted it as.

Idiot.

It was fine. It wasn’t his fault.

You’d taken your frustration out on him later that night, when he left your toothpaste uncapped on the side, and you’d grumbled until the lights in the bedroom got turned off, and Joe reached out to you under the covers.

The one rule.

Even if you were upset, or angry, or wanted to fully murder each other, you had to at least still touch each other in bed. To let the other know that, yea I’d rather fucking shout at you until I go hoarse right now, but I still love you.

It could be a big toe touching a shin, or an elbow digging into a bicep – a touch was a touch. An I love you hidden in the dark.

And you had accepted it easily then.

Yea, it was annoying that Joe’s work dictated so much of what your relationship could even be, but it wasn’t his fault, so there was no use blaming him for it.

That was then.

You don’t know when you’d grown past the point of simply accepting all the bullshit. When you decided to maybe not brush things off and be the cool girlfriend who was there for her boyfriend wherever and whenever, especially in all the moments he wouldn’t have been there for you had the tables been reversed.

Like right fucking now.

You are still staring at Joe across the room when you see how suddenly, he starts to blink his eyes rapidly. See how suddenly, his jaw starts working. You know he’s biting back tears and, no – you won’t fucking have that. This motherfucker can cry on command and you don’t doubt for a single second he’d use that to get his own way.

“Don’t fucking guilt-trip me into losing my job.”

Joe’s immediately offended.

He drops the match.

“Well, I’m sorry for being disappointed.”

World on fire.

“Do you want me to leave?” you spit out, louder than you initially thought you’d make your voice go.

“No, no,” Joe immediately says, but it sounds patronising, even though he’s on the verge of tears. Like he actually means yes, please leave, because what good are you going to be to him having to sit at his kitchen table and do work all night.

“Stay. Make your deadline.”

You ignore the sarcastic bite and take a second to sit back in your chair and assess what needs doing. How long it’ll take you all. What time you’ll likely be finished. You conclude that, if Joe’s gonna be moping around, giving big sighs from across the room, that it will likely take twice as long.

You should leave.

“No, I should go. Get this done and then see you after.”

It’s the last thing Joe expected. For you to go on your own merit. Because of your work that needs doing, and not because you’ve gotten into a huge fight. You’re not storming off and screaming how you never want to see him again. You have work to do and want to see him after you’ve finished it.

It’s stupid how fast everything inside of him flips.

He doesn’t actually want you to leave.

He wants you to shut your laptop and sigh lovingly and mutter, “How could I ever resist you?” through a smile before you kiss him silly and follow him out into the night.

But instead you shut your laptop and bend to pick up your bag from the floor to stick it into and, no, that’s not what he wants.

“No, wait... wait. I’m sorry.” he says he before he even realises what he’s doing. Unsure if he really means it. He just doesn’t want you to get up and leave. If anything, he’d like to talk more and get you to eventually prioritise him over everything else. “Stay. We can... you can finish work and then we could do something after.”

You drop your head all the way back and take a moment to let your eyes dart to all corners of his ceiling.

What if you don’t finish this until after 11? After midnight? Is he just going to watch you work from the sofa and ask you how much longer every three minutes because he thinks you’re taking too long?

You should leave.

“I should go. I’m probably better off at the office, actually. It’s where I’ll get it done faster, I think.” You say all of it kindly. Stick your laptop into your bag calmly, no jerky annoyance in your limbs. But you don’t make eye-contact so he can’t use the Big Browns on you, and instead of trying to stomp on the flames to make the fire go out, he wafts a fresh gust of wind right over them, making them climb much higher.

“All right, fuck off then. See if I give a shit.”

If someone asked you without Joe in the room, you’d tell them Joe needed a moment to calm down and you’d talk to him in the morning after you’d made this deadline.

You didn’t start the fire.

Joe did.

And he’d figure that out eventually.

If someone was to ask Joe without you in the room, he’d tell them fuck her, apparently she doesn’t give a shit about him, and actually, that’s totally not a problem at all, because he prefers the moon anyway.

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The Taglisted

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add yourself

[sunshinesickies]

Angst takes me a bit longer to write and I also don’t see myself doing much more angst fics in the future, but thank you for the request anon, and I hope you enjoy. Plz ignore the weird timeline crossover, I’m not totally up to date on what Yelena is doing after Hawkeye, but I like to think she’s out helping more widows or something along those lines.

*TW for angst and language

Kate Bishop x Reader sickfic

Burning Jealousy, Burning Fever

Yesterday

“Really, Kate?!” You can’t help but shout, a red hot feeling bubbling in your chest. “Seriously! I’ve barely seen you these past couple weeks, and I’m the one being distant? You keep saying you have work—but which work is it huh? Your actual job or the fantasy one where you run around shooting arrows with your cool new mac-n-cheese-loving blonde girlfriend?” You know you’re probably being unfair, but to be fair, so is Kate. She all but randomly accused you of being distant when that’s literally all she’s done in the past couple weeks.

“S-stop! Y/n you know that’s not true. Yelena is not my girlfriend! She just needs my help, I have a responsibility, I-I really thought you understood that.” Kate dark eyes soften a little as she looks towards the ground, tears burning her eyes. And yeah, yeah that hurts. Because you do understand, just not as much as you’d hope to.

“You already have a responsibility, Kate! To the company, to us.” You want nothing more than all of this to just stop, but you can’t. You can’t stop the burning rage and self doubt in your heart every time Kate runs off to join Yelena to do whatever the fuck they do when you’re not around. And the pounding-the pounding in your head that started a few days ago that just won’t go away. You know it’s clouding your thoughts, you know you’re being selfish. But is it selfish to want the girl you love to come home safe every night? To not have to wonder if she’ll make it home each day? To not have to wonder what she does when she’s off with a friend she never told you existed?

“I know that, y/n! But this is my responsibility too, as someone who can help others, who can make a difference, I can’t just stop being who I am…I….” The raven haired girl loses her train of thought when her phone buzzes in her pocket. She glances at it with a sigh. “I-it’s Yelena, she found the widow, she needs me. I have to go—y/n…I’m sorry.” Her face is full of regret as she looks up at you. Your eyes glaze over as she stands there, waiting for you to say something.

“Well, run along then. At least she understands.” You spit, energy drained as you stand there. Kate grabs her bow with a huff and leaves, moving towards the door without another word. The last thing you see is her glancing over her shoulder to you, an unreadable expression on her face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The second the door closes you collapse onto the couch, and unable to keep your eyes open, you let them drift close as you think about how you even got into this situation.

Two Weeks Ago

It all started two weeks ago when you walk into Kate’s apartment, take-out for dinner in hand, and get the shit scared out of you when you turn on the light to see an unfamiliar blonde haired woman sitting on the couch, sharpening a knife as calmly as if she were reading a book. She looks up at you, confusion spreading across her face. “You’re not Kate Bishop—I was sure I broke into the right apartment.” She mutters with what sounds like a curse in another language.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You scream, backing into the front door, reaching beside you for anything that could protect you if necessary. “Woah, woah. Chill out not-Kate bishop. I’m not going to hurt you…mhmm…good thing I brought macaroni.” The blonde stands, tucking her knife away and motioning towards the dropped and spilled food by your feet. Your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath, frantic eyes never leaving the strange woman. She puts up her hands to show you they’re empty.

“No need for such dramatics. My name is Yelena and I’m a friend of Kate Bishop’s. Now is she going to be home soon? Should I heat up the oven?” She gestures to the kitchen.

“I—uh I…what?” You breathe, finally calming down a bit as it seems she’s making no sudden moves. It’s then that you notice Lucky had trotted over to the woman, wagging his tail as she bends down to pet him. Your confusion only grows. “What are you doing here? How’d you even—?” You take a few steps forward, taking out your phone to track your girlfriend. A wave of relief washes over you when you see she’s almost home from work.

“As I said, I need Kate Bishop’s help. This is her dog so I know I’m in the right place, well I had no doubts about that…but you I didn’t anticipate. Who are you?” Yelena asks and you keep talking, stalling for time until Kate arrives. “I’m y/n, I live here. Kate’s my girlfriend?” You raise your eyebrows expecting to get some sort of realization out of the blonde. She only frowns.

“Bishop never mentioned she was dating someone.” She looks somewhat betrayed as if she should have been kept in the loop. Just then you heard the click of the lock and you finally breathe normally as you watch Kate enter the apartment. She freezes, her mouth gaping as she takes in the scene before her.

“Ah there she is! Finally, Kate Bishop—hey how come you never told me about the lovely y/n here?” Yelena motions to you and you move to stand by Kate’s side. “Baby, what the hell is going on?” You whisper in her ear and she looks to you, an apologetic look in her eyes. “Um—y/n meet Yelena, Yelena, this is y/n.”

So yeah. That’s how you met the deadly assassin that happens to be your girlfriend’s friend. And that’s how this whole mess started.

One Week Ago

After the night you met Yelena, you quickly find out how much she likes to stick around, and how much she loves mac and cheese. You try your best to be polite, to enjoy the company of Kate’s friend, but its a little hard when every interaction between them feels like flirting and she keeps whisking Kate off to go on a “mission” or “stake out”, or whatever excuse she can come up with to leave you out of it. Yelena seems nice, she really does. But you can’t help but feel that she’s a little too nice, and a little too comfortable around your girlfriend. Not to mention the fact that Kate never once told you about her yet now acts like they’ve known each other forever.

“Kate, how long is Yelena staying for?” You whisper to your girlfriend as the two of you cuddle in bed. The blonde in mention is currently downstairs, asleep on your couch. She’d been crashing at Kate’s apartment for almost a week now, coming and going at weird hours, almost never using the door, usually the window, and often taking Kate with her. “I don’t know. I guess until she finds all the widows in New York.” Kate mumbles into your shoulder, half asleep. You sigh, closing your eyes and letting the sound of her soft snores lull you to sleep.

Last Night

Almost another week passes and Yelena still hasn’t left. With your irritation only growing, you find it harder and harder to keep your cool around the assassin as she traipses around your apartment like she owns the place, eating mac and cheese and watching movies with your girlfriend, making her laugh and doing the dishes.

Work has been exhausting since you’ve been picking up Kate’s slack at the company that you work at, the one she owns. And you guess everything just hit its limit because this morning you’d woken up with an annoying scratch in your throat and a throbbing in your sinuses.

Currently you’re laying on the couch, the oncoming cold and exhaustion from the day making your eyelids droopy as you enjoy one of the few moments of peace you’ve had in the past couple weeks. Yelena is out doing god knows what and you’re laying in Kate’s arms as the two of you watch a movie. You sniffle softly, attempting to keep your slightly runny nose at bay. You can feel a steady warmth growing in your body, one that makes you feel cold even though you’re cuddled up to your girlfriend and under a cozy blanket.

“Hey.” Kate murmurs into your hair and you hum, glancing up at her, the blue light from the tv casting a soft glow on her face. “You okay, love? You seem off tonight.” She states, a small worried crease in her brows. You try your best to give her a convincing smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine Katie, jus’ tired. Long day.” You hum back. You’re mulling over the idea of just telling her you’re sick, then maybe she would focus on you for a while, make you feel loved and cared for like she did before Yelena came to town and distracted her.

Kate can tell you aren’t being fully honest and opens her mouth to say something else but a soft buzz from her phone on the coffee table pulls her attention away. She looks at the text. You can tell its from Yelena by the way her brows furrow and her jaw sets in that stubborn, determined look you usually find endearing. You sigh.

“It’s Lena, she’s close to finding the last widow. She might need me.” She mutters to you, avoiding your eyes because she knows she she’ll only feel guilty from the expression on her face. She knows she hasn’t been fair to you these past couples weeks. But she has a job, a responsibility, and her friend needs her. She’s helping to make a difference, to save lives. She’ll make it up to you, she will.

You pull away from her warm arms, standing up, head pounding at the sudden movement. “Woah babe…” Kate stands up too. “Where are you going? What about the movie?” She calls as you start to make your way to the stairs. You turn back to face her. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” You state simply, maybe a little too harshly judging by the way Kate looks hurt and confused by your words. You turn once more to the stairs.

“Ugh why are you being so—so….distant lately?” Kate bites back, and that’s it. You storm back over to her. “Really, Kate?!”

And…yeah, that’s how you ended up fighting with Kate at 11pm while sporting a very untimely fever—one which the archer doesn’t known about since she hasn’t been around enough to know you’re feeling under the weather.

Today

You don’t know how long you’re passed out for, but when you come to, the apartment is flooded with sunlight. Kate’s coat and bow are still gone so you know she didn’t come back last night. Guilt bubbles in your chest when you think about what happened. You really didn’t want to fight with her, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

You try to move but find your limbs feel like jelly. The light from outside amplifies your headache and you can feel your hair and clothes slightly damp with sweat from your fever. You want to call Kate. To tell her you’re sorry, that you love her, that you need her now. You blink, not sure where your phone is and not having the energy to find it. You hear a distant whine and faintly resister Lucky licking your hand. You muffle a painful cough into the pillow below your cheek and you can’t resist when your eyes drift close once more.

When Kate finally comes home that afternoon, her heart drops the second she sees you sprawled out on the couch. Even from across the room she can see the thick layer of sweat coating your hairline and your ragged, uneven breathing. Her eyes widen and she curses under her breath as she rushes over to you. Her worry only amplifies when she sees you up close.

“Y/n? Baby, can you hear me?” She places a hand to the side of your cheek and feels the strong heat radiating off you. She can’t believe this. She can’t believe that she didn’t know you were getting sick, or that your fight could have been induced by the fever, or the fact that you needed her and she left you for almost a whole day like this. The archer feels as though she could throw up just thinking about how awful you must’ve felt. All her anger and frustration from last night fades as she focuses solely on you.

“Please, baby, wake up, y/n?” She shakes your shoulder a bit and lets out a sigh of relief when you groan and shift a little. “K-Katie?” You slur, eyes still shut as you try reaching out your arm to find the source of the familiar voice. “Yeah, yes, baby. It’s me, I’m here.” Kate grabs tight onto your hand and squeezes it gently.

You slowly open your eyes to see the blurry form of your girlfriend crouch in front of you. You lose sight of her as tears start forming in your eyes. “M’sorry.” You whimper, and you can feel her soft thumbs start to brush away your tears.

“It’s okay, my love. It’s okay. I’m sorry too. For more than last night. For everything. For being distant, for not realizing you got sick for…” She starts to ramble as tears form in her own eyes.

“Iss okay.” You mumble. “You’re here now.” You offer what you can in the form of a slight smile. You can’t think straight right now, you’re not even entirely sure Kate is actually here and not just some fever induced dream. But whether it’s real or not, for the first time in a while, with her hand gripping your’s, you feel calm, comforted, seen.

Kate blinks the tears out of her eyes as yours drift closed again. Biting her lip, she pulls away but you don’t even notice, so lost in your haze. She returns a moment later with a cool damp cloth, a glass of water, and a fever reducing pill. She slips onto the couch, carefully maneuvering you so she’s holding your slumped form in her arms.

“Here, take this baby.” She holds the pill and water up to your lips and they part briefly, enough for her to get you to swallow. “You’re okay, love. It’s all going to be okay now.” She hums in your ear along with other sweet assurances as she holds your shivering form tight.

After a while of silence, you come to again, still only half awake but you can now feel Kate’s soothing presence as she holds you and something miraculously cool is resting on your forehead. “I-I’m sorry, Katie.” You mumble and you can feel her fingers running through your hair. “I trust you, a-and I understand. Really I do…I was just…” You add though your words are a slur of mumbles. Kate kisses your head. “Shhh, It’s okay y/n. I know, I know. Just sleep now. We’ll talk when you’re better.” Kate hums back and you let out a deep sigh.

“I love you.” You hear Kate whisper in your ear as you drift back off to sleep. And finally, you feel at peace, knowing her words are true. You love her too, but you can’t seem to get your lips to form the words. So instead, so settle for knowing that once you’re better, the two of you will be able to explain everything to each other, be completely honest, and to get through this. For now, you’re happy without needing to say anything at all. She’s here. And that’s all that matters.

[zorilleerrant]

“Which is the dude from the thing?” Bernard asks, and Tim has to stare at him so hard it feels like his eyes are going to melt out of his head, but Bernard doesn’t even clarify until he clears his throat so blatantly it hurts. “You know, that one pop star that everyone wants to make fight Batman. I think he’s from – okay, now I can’t remember where he’s from, either.”

“Maybe you should go to sleep,” Tim says, rubbing his shoulders and kissing the top of his ear. “You’ve been up all night writing fanfic.” And it’s maybe selfish, but Tim kind of wishes he’d been up all night making chili or something, if he’s going to stay up all night, because the shitty fast food places aren’t open yet, and he needs something dense to eat. Whatever there is to microwave isn’t going to cut it.

“You’ve been up all night fighting clowns or whatever, so I think of the two of us, I make healthier life choices,” Bernard says, snappishly, but also without looking up from his screen. Tim knows it’s his fault that Bern keeps staying up, that it’s just a reaction to his anxiety, that it’s going to have to be Tim doing something, or else they’re just going to have to wait it out. But he still doesn’t expect Bernard, half asleep and writing what appears to be barely coherent language (and not entirely English), to say, “there’s a guy, he’s named after a bird? Shit, maybe he’s a superhero, actually. You guys all have bird names, and you’re superheroes, right?”

“Bern,” Tim says, gently, turning the chair so Bernard has to look away from his computer, which he clings very hard to, making agitated noises. “Bernard. Bernard, look at me. What the hell kind of bird do you think a Nightwing is? Do Oracle, Red Hood, Spoiler, Signal, or Huntress sound like any kind of bird to you? Are you tired enough to think a bat is a bird?”

“Red Hood sounds like it probably could be a bird,” Bernard mutters, scratching a little too intensely at his eyebrow, “some kind of like. A falcon or something. A hawk. What’s the dude who dresses in like super fashionable clothing and then he’s got like a motorcycle and stuff and I think he’s an assassin.”

“Bear, babe, you just described like half my family,” Tim says, tilting their foreheads together so he can attempt to look his boyfriend in the eye, except said boyfriend keeps darting his gaze back and forth, not like he’s looking for hidden dangers or weapons to fight them off with, but like he forgot something crucial. Turning off the stove level stuff. (Tim darts out to check the stove, just quickly, but it’s off.)

“He’s pink,” says Bernard, with a level of certainty Tim definitely can’t pull off on that little sleep, much as he tries. But he has no idea what kind of pink pop star motorcycle riding assassin fighting Batman Bernard thinks he – fuck.

“Flamingo?” Tim practically yells, wondering how to best pack incredulity into the rest of his sentence, “are you talking about Eddie fucking Flamingo, Bernard? That’s not a pop star and he’s not from a TV show, he’s real, and he has a rap sheet a mile long, because, as you said, he’s an assassin.”

“Right, yeah. Him. He’s cool,” Bernard says, with the tone of voice that definitely means that wasn’t the first adjective he thought of but he’s still worried Tim’s going to be jealous about it. Which isn’t totally unfair, because Tim still does get a little jealous when Bernard looks at other guys, but he’s trying to cut down on that because it’s not exactly helping anyone with anything. And Tim would like to be able to look at other guys without feeling guilty. (Just look.)

“He is not cool, Bernard, he eats fucking faces, Bernard, you need to go to sleep,” Tim says, and then pulls Bern’s face into his hands, and looks at him very long-sufferingly, but lovingly, and places a kiss on the tip of his nose. And then, just to drive his point home, repeats, “Go the fuck to sleep.”

“No, I have to get this scene,” Bernard says, typing the word Flamingo way too many times for Tim’s comfort, scrolling up and down through the document he has open, and several other files that don’t actually seem to have writing in them. “Hey, how strong is your dad, anyway? Could he like. Lift a motorcycle?”

“Could he lift a motorcycle?” Tim asks, giving up on spinning Bernard’s chair around again in favor of rubbing at his face and regretting asking any of these questions at any point, but unable to (after hearing that) let this lie. “How strong do you think Batman is? You know he’s human, right? Like a regular human? I did explain this, didn’t I?”

“He could have robots in his suit or something, I don’t know,” Bernard says, while Tim tries not to cry, because, admittedly, Luke can lift a motorcycle in most of his less compact suits. But the recharge time on those is astronomical, so it’s not like that’s a helpful comparison. There’s a reason Bruce uses them so sparingly, but there are a couple he obviously could lift a motorcycle in, if he saw a reason to use them. So Tim doesn’t even know what to say.

So he just reads over Bernard’s shoulder, while his boyfriend smirks and points out a couple of choice sentences, one of which he’ll have to come back to because that is definitely not a language he knows. It might be Mando’a. It’s written in roman characters, at least, which rules out a lot of things. “What do you need him to lift a motorcycle for, anyway?” Tim asks, because so far the motorcycle doesn’t seem to have appeared, although it might be in an earlier chapter. He’s really going to have to ask Bernard how many chapters this thing is.

“Oh, I want him to pick it up and use it to smack Flamingo in the face,” Bernard says, matter of factly, and then mimes what Tim figures must be what he thinks it would be like to pick up a motorcycle one-handed and then bitchslap someone with it. It’s a little bit too casual of a gesture to be convincing about it, though.

“Bernard, my love, my life, my reason for getting up in the morning,” Tim says, pinning his wrists so he can't open his browser back up again, “I have never been more serious about anything. You need to rethink this once you’ve slept.” The words grate, coming out of his mouth, and he’s not enjoying feeling sympathy for all the people who’ve said this to him, and probably he was still right and they were still wrong, but, like, he gets why they said it, now.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bernard says, condescendingly patting Tim’s arm and giving him a rough kiss before turning back to the computer and typing rapidfire, in a way Tim’s pretty sure he’s never seen Bern do while completely awake. Some of those words are Portuguese, though. At least one sentence is in German. (It’s the one where the motorcycle finally appears.) “I think Batman can probably lift a motorcycle, if he gets a running start.”

Tim picks him up and carries him.

[ettawritesnstudies]

You look like a really happy and supportive person, do you have any tips about dealing with resentment esp. against other writers? It's something I'm noticing a lot in the community and other spaces I participate. Everybody treats it like it's righteous anger but it feels toxic. The moment they see someone thriving, the person gets hate mail and someone finds an excuse to bring them down. I guess people have reason to be hurt because everything feels hard and unfair right now. I'm also from a fucked-up third world country, I'm queer, my life feels stuck where it was before the pandemic, I can't get a job and I worry what it'll be like for me 10 years from now. But I kept saying to myself it wasn't so bad because it's really worse for so many people where I live and I tried to be upbeat... But then I saw a writer I know irl get published and I noticed I was feeling and thinking the same way those people I disliked act online. Angry at them for getting published when I don't have the skill or the luck for it. What do we do when that happens? Sorry if this is a pessimistic ask

Hey anon,

First of all, I'm really really sorry you're going through that, it sounds like a bad situation and I hope you can find some peace and stability soon. If it means anything, I'll be praying for you. <3 <3 <3

It's really hard to keep a positive outlook on things when other things in your life aren't working out. As you said, everything feels hard and unfair right now and you can't be blamed for feeling pessimistic and bitter about the way things are going for you. It's easy for me to act cheery because I'm blessed to be in a good situation with a good support network, and I'm aware that's something a lot of people don't have. You're incredibly strong for dealing with this and I'm proud of you for both surviving and trying not to let this bitterness affect the way you interact with the writing community. That's a testament to your good character and you're someone I'd like to have as a friend.

I think the biggest thing that's helped me not get bitter about other people's success is the "Holy shit, two cakes!" mindset.

I think this was made by @stuffman originally if "know your meme" tells true.

Life is a dessert table. Some people don't even like cake - some people are bringing brownies, cookies, tortes, pastries, jello puddings, fruit baskets, or whatever else suits their fancy. Chocolate cake ain't the same as lemon no matter which way you slice it.

Other writers aren't competition - everyone has their own voice and themes and stories to bring to the table. At the end of the day, I'm not trying to win over romance and grimdark true crime readers, and even within my own genre, if people like reading similar stories then they'll probably enjoy mine. A while ago I looked for comp titles to runaways and found a bunch of books that lit up all the same keywords with "sisters", "changelings," "seelie and unseelie courts", but they were nothing like the story I was trying to tell. I loved them all the same. Your words are important and meaningful and I hope this discouragement doesn't keep you from practicing your craft.

As far as publishing luck and money and time and skill goes: yeah the industry kind of sucks right now, there's no changing that. It might suck that you're not published yet, but hold onto that "yet". It's important. Hope keeps you striving, even if progress is stagnating at the moment. It's served me well through so many semesters slogging through engineering school when I didn't put a word to paper in months.

Helping other people can a tactical decision. I'm not published yet, nowhere near it. I started this tumblr (and the rest of my platform) for the sake of marketing and networking. One could argue I chat with the likes of @ashen-crest, @abalonetea, and @author-a-holmes for purely selfish reasons - if I help them out, hopefully they'll help me when the time comes. Maybe that's how it starts sometimes, but over time those connections become friendships so easily when people just want to tell stories together. I didn't have a lot of people to talk about my writing with when I was younger and I make no exaggeration when I say the community here on writeblr changed my life.

Friends make going through this painful slog of a life so much easier. I can't count the number of times I've cried in this past week about how fortunate I am to have so many people supporting me. From my sister who listened to my rambles off the top bunk every night, to my best friends in high school who helped me develop the bones of my world, to my college roommates and partners in crime who encouraged me to be more vocal about my work, to my boyfriend who patiently stood in lines for me at a book festival, to @siarven my first acquaintance here on writeblr 4 years ago, who I finally get to meet in person in a couple weeks. Maybe it sounds a little fairytales, but kindness truly does repay kindness seven times seven times over.

I'll keep writing my little fairytales. I believe in them. I hope you do too.

[laputaindefrenchgirl]

back to my future.

I wrote this in 2016 : I don’t want to apologize. 

I try this thing, you know, where you just try to not expect anything from anyone. Let’s face it, when you come to some point, it’s complete bullshit.

I shouldn’t apologize.

I’m fierce, and I love myself (oh, my bad!), but when it comes to my social relationships (meaning out of my relatives ones), they call me mature, respectful, and thoughtful even. I’m not the best, for sure. But I’ve come a long way, and I had my lots of disappointments, so why the hell should I tame myself ; my fire, my light, my inner strength. Why should I go in this dark corner as you please, and suffocate inside?

I can’t apologize.

Life taught me many, many things, and what comes out of it is that you got to set the world on fire, no matter what. I haven’t been there and suffered from unfair stupid people to just stand in some bloody corner, and not let myself be heard.

This is not okay. But I’m listening, always do, and even if I didn’t nod hearing your reasons, I still heard them. I’m completely thrown off by your stupidity and I can’t agree, but I hear you.

I should apologize. 

Because it seems that I’m strong and you’re weak, and you don’t have my iron will. Yeah, I really should say that I’m sorry. I know I can hold a grudge like no one, and that’s maybe the most stupid thing in all of this.

And I wrote this today, in 2023 : holy fucking shit. 

I was seriously guilty tripping myself over someone (I can only guess who it was because I do not remember properly). It was a period of time where I graduated from a school full of bullies, I was starting therapy, and working on a relationship which I thought could be repaired.

Probably the main thing that changed, that evolved was that I know that I will never, ever tame myself for anyone. No questions, no wonders, period. Some growth happened, but not in the way it was expected. I held myself in my own arms and just understood that it is alright to be sensitive, to have a depth of feelings wider that I ever thought I could be capable of. I dove into my own watery self, and almost a decade later, it made me shine even harder. 

Because I tried to give myself more room to explore, understand bits of myself which were not encouraged or seen, not even by I, it gave me a sort of gentleness. I sincerely wasn’t aware that I could be kind. 

And I still wouldn’t say that I’m kind as a main trait of my character, but I know that I can be when I want to. It feels stupid to write this but how true it is. How naive and childish and arrogant I can be. How demanding am I of my own soul. 

Around 2018, I tried to shush myself. It became too much inside, a toxic pressure building for years, and I was like, “let’s try to not shine, not speak about yourself, to not be loud about what you want”. What a mistake. Maybe though, this one was needed. For four months, I held this behavior to please, have peace, not receive remarks. Guess what? I was still depicted as the bad guy, and verbally abused by some. I was in such pain, and inside, I became wild, like a wounded animal, doing what it would have to do in order to survive. For the first time in my life, I was reaching one of my limit. This is how I knew this road wasn’t for me. And I tried, you know. I guess I’m not a people pleaser, and neither good at pretending shit.

This is how I realized that I was not meant for what anyone would EVER expect of me, not even my owns tricky expectations. I am a sort of messy magnet for light and gratitude, yet I burn, selfish as it may be, and I’m not here to apologize for any of this. I’m a force and I’m fragile. This works both ways.

Although, let’s face it, do I still hold grudges like a fucking pro? Absolutely.

I would even dare to say that I’m against forgiveness, and I know, it sounds silly, immature, ruthless. This is where I am today and I’m not going against this feeling because fuck you, babe. I don’t have to justify this at all. I think just most people forget that maybe, people who hurt like I did and keep on holding grudges are probably the most sensitive people of all. If not, then I’m just a dumb bitch and that’s okay too.

Back to the main meal, don’t carry too much guilt over your shoulders. Keep your stamina to carry better things such as love, empathy and some badassery. Not all villains wear cloaks, some might wear their heart on their sleeves as well. 

“It takes guts be to gentle and kind.” The Smiths

-Audrey

[fierceawakening]

from what you shown herre, it just sounds like that your mom prioritizes your wellbeing a lot lot lot less than you do hers, which is deeply unfair. Like, if it just crops up during a discussion that you might had an operation you do not even know about, the correct reaction is "oh shit, my child who already has lots of medical trauma seems shocked about this information, let's clarify this immediately", not "I was stopped by some irrelevant bullshit from telling what i really want, how unfair"

Thank you. That’s how it feels to me, like it’s just never going to be my turn ever. Even when it’s my birthday or I’m being given a gift, there’s always this threat that I will react wrong and ruin it. I have to be as excited as possible snd not show disappointment.

It’s framed as selfish that sometimes I want to matter too, but I’m not sure that’s true. I’m human.

(Said it before will say it again but this is why all the “empathy doesn’t matter” posts on here baffle me. It’s, again, framed as weird to expect someone who claims to love you to care how you actually feel, but… being shamed because it’s weird doesn’t stop me from doing it? The idea that I can get that slider to zero, just write it off as oh but she can’t the poor dear, when she persistently expects me to show empathy to her, to comfort her and give her passes for cruelty because she has loud feelings about the disaster of the week, feels deeply unfair.

I don’t know what definition of ableism people are using but to me, ableism has always been pretty obvious. It’s not, like. You might want someone to be fair to you, but you’re a bigot unless you always remember to consider whether they’re capable of it. It’s like, I tried really hard in phys ed but one lap is a D, so I get a D for pushing myself to the limit of my capability. It’s refusing to look at the effort a person is putting in, because if they can’t do what others can they’re still inferior.

Ableism is not people occasionally forgetting you need an extra thing because they only know one you, but going ah fuck sorry when reminded. That’s just life. That’s the same thing as someone screwing up your pronoun once or twice.

Ableism is soul eating because it tells you no matter what you do you’ll never be enough.)

[kitten-wick]

I never proofread, I’m sorry.

I can’t handle the duality of everything going on in my head.

What was real? What was the situation we were in? What was us and what wasn’t?

Am I stupid to sit here and have hope when it ended the way it did?

Am I wrong to hope that if we tried again that things would be a lot better because they would be different this time?

What if they aren’t different??

But god, what if they were different?! What if we were allowed to just keep going and see where it goes without anyone messing it up but the two of us? That’s not even fair to say because we did do it to each other. You did what you shouldn’t have. I know that. But could we have figured things out had we had a stronger foundation and didn’t stay out so shaky?

Am I selfish for having hope?

Why can’t you just tell me to have hope? Why can’t someone just tell me what to do because I can’t fucking make a decision on my own! I wouldn’t listen anyway, I know that. I’ll do what I want. I just wish I had all the information first!

It’s unfair that everything blew up. It’s unfair I wasn’t given the chance to see what would happen and try to make it work. It’s unfair that every little beautiful part of us in my head is tainted and I may never get untainted memories.

I don’t know. I’m so angry. I’m angry because I having feelings that have no where to go and I want to send them to you but I can’t.

I can’t trust you, can I?

Are you as safe as you made me feel? A person is not their mistakes, so can I see past the hurt and accept that mistakes happen? Can I forgive and move forward? Can I find safety and peace in you again?

Do you want to move forward? I’m working to process and I am trying to give space, but so much is still rolling in my head and I can’t think straight. I don’t know what you want or what you’re feeling.

I wish you would just be honest and let it all out! Just fucking tell me! I don’t want the world. I want your honesty! Throw it all at me, for once, please! You ask the same of me all the time and it’s only fair you do the fucking same, right?

I want to sit down and talk with you. Just sit and talk, like we do. Where hours have passed and I’m still not bored of your voice or what you have to say. I want to understand. I don’t need you to share everything that is you, but I need to understand. Questions I will keep asking until you answer honestly.

I’m picking at this over and over and I’m afraid to tell you because I’m the strong one. The one no one ever has to worry about. The one everyone forgets to check on because she’s strong, she’ll be okay.

I’m not strong.

I’m tired.

I’m confused.

I’m hurt.

My feelings won’t just go away. I’ve tried. This fucking sucks. I’m going to have to watch you try again. Maybe with the same people, maybe new people. I’m going to watch all of them be enough to make it work while I’m left feeling like I failed somehow.

Dynamics and relationships change and end. I know that. I’m not an idiot. I’m just angry ours ended before it got started and the unknown is eating at me.

How can everything about a relationship feel like it clicks and just flows, end like that?! I know I ended it, lol. So I know how it ended. I just don’t understand how or why we got to that point! Why did everything have to ruin it.

Why couldn’t you have done better. For me. Was I not worth doing better for?? Am I not worth the effort to do better and be better?

Fuck. I’m spiraling now and make no sense. I’m not going back. I’m not going to jump back into the same shit. I sound needy and desperate here and I fucking hate that, but I know what I mean. I know I mean after time and working through shit.

I’m just trying to find out if I should have hope or not… I’m trying to figure out the shit in my head.

I’m trying.

I’m tired.

I’m hurt.

Im losing hope.

[spilt2manysecrets]

good evening.

it's currently the 21st of december, 12:31am

as usual, i am once again feeling completely indifferent about my birthday.

it's like- i honestly just want to get it over with?

while yes, i do acknowledge that this year's celebration was made special by the efforts of my mom and my classmates in planning a surprise birthday party for me and bea on the 18th, right now, im genuinely feeling a strong sense of dread for the holidays, which includes my actual birthday less than 24 hours from now.

im once again being asked to plan every part of the day, which does not help my dread because istg im so fucking tired of thinking and ive been thinking more these past 2 days than i have in 2 weeks in all honesty.

i keep having to plan each and every itinerary, every second of the day i keep being fucking asked "what do we do now", "where do we go tomorrow", "go make the reservation", "go and call the restaurant"

and while i know it's unfair, cruel, rude, selfish, and downright ungrateful of me

im so close to saying i give up. like if your only input is going to be to tell me to call them or to tell me to choose and shit, just leave me be. i'll do this on my own.

i dont want to do anything on my birthday.

i really just want to fucking rest im so goddamn tired.

im mentally, physically, and emotionally drained.

the christmas party and the following hang out may have charged my battery, but it only took two days of having to plan everything again for my battery to be completely drained.

ughhhhhh i swear i just want to sit at my laptop and watch some anime or some kpop content or something.

and if im gonna be honest here, i knew about the "surprise" since around 2 days before?

because my mom was asking me "which ribbon do you prefer", "what candy would be a good substitute for a rose", "would you be willing to dance with a lollipop", "what do you want for this", "what color would you like for that"

so in a sense

i still fucking planned my own surprise birthday party.

yeah- but i guess you cant have everything. and plus, it was a gift to me, i have no right to be picky.

this is just me letting out my bitchy side cuz i know how straight up asshole-y this whole rant sounds.

but yeah. it's my 18th birthday

supposedly the most important day in my life as a young woman.

supposedly a day to celebrate my transition into adulthood.

but it looks like it's just gonna be another day. just another birthday.

every grandiose promise, every extravagant dream shoved into my head ever since i was a little girl, left unfulfilled. popped before my eyes like a balloon that floated too high.

i may have said i was ok with it, that i didn't care and was completely fine with just doing whatever.

much like a quote i found on pinterest recently

"just because i said i was fine doesn't mean that it didn't hurt"

and wow does it still hurt honestly.

i wish i could spend the day doing something i would enjoy, but instead, im going on a roadtrip i was pressured into choosing cuz my mom still wants to make it special

which i appreciate

but she doesnt realize that she's making it "special" in the way she wants

not the way i want

the way i want it wouldve been honestly just a nice dinner at a hotel

but no- we're going to baguio

to do nothing but stare at the gorgeous trees. woohoo. nature.

happy fucking birthday to me

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

15 wake-up call. where your heart (and his) shatters into a million fragments

<< 14 crescendo. | >> 16 chasm.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader word count: 2k warnings: angst, lying, miscommunication, heartbreak

“so where do i go in the process?”

there is a loud ringing that fills your ears as you try your hardest to understand how you got here. how you managed to misinterpret everything.

you must have misunderstood the meaning behind his actions, the look in his eyes, everything that pointed to him feeling the same way as you. you must have misheard the affection in his voice this morning as he kissed your forehead goodbye “we’ll talk about this when i come back.” 

“last night was a mistake.” no, there must have been some sort of mistake. some explanation for why everything, everything went to shit so quickly. 

a loud shattering of glass in the distance echoes in your ear. oh. the breaking of a heart.

you realize belatedly that it was the sound of wakatoshi dropping your heart carelessly. your heart that you entrusted to him. the gardener himself taking a pair of sharp shears to the flowers in your garden, mangled flowers and their petals falling to the ground. 

fuck. how many nights have you lied awake in bed staring up at the uneven texture of your ceiling, afraid of the exact scene that is playing out in front of you right now? too many. 

but you had let your guard drop, acted impulsively last night. and now you are reaping the consequences. 

“i don’t feel the same way. i’m sorry.” of all the ways shit could hit the fan, that was one that you failed to account for. one that you had not accounted for a while now. not when all signs you saw made you believe otherwise. none of it made sense.

you are horrified by what that means. ears burning with shame, reminded of the way you came onto him last night. and he had let you. how did you manage to fuck it up so badly? 

somehow, someway, you manage to recover from the shattering of your heart. “t–then why did you—?” 

not the wisest question to ask, when his answer comes easily, like he has it ready for you. the realization comes stomping on the fragmented shards of your heart.

“i realize my actions led you on, and for that i apologize for making you think otherwise.”

your hands are clenched tightly, neatly trimmed nails leaving crescent shaped indents on your palms as you let out a shaky breath, releasing them. confusion swims in your eyes as you look everywhere except at wakatoshi as you desperately try to connect the dots in your mind. 

if you looked straight at him, you would break down. if you had just looked straight at him, you would have seen the way he avoided your eyes. 

“i don’t understand, toshi.” his name comes out a mangled mess. “what do you mean?”

“i’m sorry,” his voice is pained, as if his words hurt him more than you. 

and then as if that wasn’t big enough of a slap to your face, he asks, “are we still friends?”

i don’t know, you tell me. no. you know we can never just be friends. no. why? no. but it seems like you are too far gone, too in love with the boy in front of you to put yourself before him, because you croak out a defeated “yes”.

you reason that it would be unfair to say no. that it would be selfish of you to do so when you are the reason this mess happened, and it wasn’t like either of you went into it with a mutual understanding, despite you thinking that you did. 

you flinch away when he reaches out to you with an outstretched hand, hoping to wrap you into a hug. his touch would only bring unwelcome reminders, and you have enough anguish flowing through your body to be considered a walking embodiment of pain.

he lets his hand hang awkwardly at his side. “is there anything i can do for you?”

a broken laugh escapes your lips. “you have done enough. just leave me alone.” you slide down onto the floor against the couch, eyes glazed over. “please” the word comes out in a half-sob, begging for his absence.

you think you hear his footsteps fade, and the sound of the front door a few seconds later. 

friends. heavy tears roll down your cheeks, blurring your vision as his words replay in your mind. you attempt to piece it together. piece something together. anything. nothing makes sense. 

as if you could ever go back to being just friends. a hysterical laugh rings in your ears. your body shakes in violent sobs, your heart in irreparable fragments, your mind tries to find a way forward. 

you sit there for hours. you don’t find one. 

“you have done enough.”

“you have done enough.”

“you have done enough.”

wakatoshi thinks he has broken his heart alongside yours in your shared home. 

he was foolish, thinking he could pursue whatever you had between the two of you without consequences. he was careless, away from miyagi for months — too long to remember just how real his promises are. 

ushijima wakatoshi is a man of his word. but for you, he is willing to go back on it. more than ready to. the words were on the tip of his tongue when he picked up the call from his mother on his way to training, ready to call it all off. put his honor on the line for you. 

but then she had asked about you, and your acceptance to the famed music school in paris. wakatoshi knows his mother well enough throughout the years to hear the thinly veiled threats behind her polite words. 

his family is well established. well connected. and if her reach goes beyond japan…

he doesn’t wish to test out the possibility of his mother interfering with your future. he would not allow it. what right does he have to love you if he can’t even protect you from his own mother?

it is his burden to bear, having agreed to the arrangement proposed by his mother just as he turned fifteen and about to start high school — she would allow him to continue volleyball at shiratorizawa high and then professionally, if he allowed her to arrange his marriage. 

with his parents divorced at a young age, volleyball is all that wakatoshi had left of his dad and he enjoyed the sport. at the time, he didn’t think much of the arrangement. he thought it would be for the best, not caring much about romance like the other boys his age. his mother, with her experience, would know what is important for a lasting marriage, right?

love didn’t come naturally to wakatoshi. sure, there were fans who adored him, but they were only there for his looks. coach hand picked him for his skills, and his teammates looked up to him for his reliability as their ace. 

and then he met you. your paths threaded together unwittingly by semi. he recognized your lonely soul that day in september, the first time the four of you hung out together, and he decided to throw out a lifeline. 

you are not alone, he wanted to say to you. so he tried his best to be that person you needed, like the characters in the shows that he watches with tendo. surprisingly, it felt effortless with you. like home. 

you made him feel happy. and seen. and he had fallen in love with you somewhere along the line unknowingly. 

he had actively regretted his arrangement ever since that day you defended him in that fist fight, realizing just how much he was willing to put on the line for you. he tried, oh gods, he tried to get out of it. sometime in december, he had gotten on his knees and begged his mother to release him from their agreement. 

but he made the mistake of inviting you to his house, confirming what others had whispered in her ear, that her son is in love with a girl with a, in her eyes, questionable family background. he had toed the lines, skirted just close enough to what was agreed upon that his mother had let it be up until then. 

“you might think you love her, wakatoshi, but love alone is not enough to withstand the weight of a marriage. there is a reason why marriages are arranged between families of the same status.” 

the matriarch of the ushijima clan had been unwavering in her beliefs. “she is a bright girl with a promising future. one that you nor i should be interfering with.” don’t make me intervene in her life. he was familiar with doublespeak from his years of experience with his family—had struggled with understanding the disguised meaning behind their politeness as a child. 

so it was agreed upon, he would go through with their arrangement as planned, if she stayed away from you. 

wakatoshi well knows that if he told you, you would choose to fight for him. you had fought for him that day despite being at odds with each other, regardless of the consequences that awaited you. 

and because he knows you so well, he chose to be selfish and break his promise to you.

“no more keeping secrets from me.” i’m sorry i couldn’t keep that promise to you. 

you are a caged swan molting into your full glory, breaking free to take flight. and he couldn’t bear to be the person you ground yourself for. didn’t want to hold you back from your true potential, even if that future is one without him in it. 

he had been selfish again last night, indulging in your request and his own desires that he had kept under lock and key. he had taken the love you offered so selflessly and wanted more after waking up to you in his bed, marks scattered across your skin and his—marks that marked you his, and him yours. 

wakatoshi wanted nothing more than to have this with you for the rest of his life. a thousand nights, then a few thousands more. 

the words that you let slip unknowingly was a welcome weight on his shoulders. he knew what he had to do before he could say them back to you. because when he says it to you, it would be a promise that he does not intend to ever break.

the utopia where he could be yours was well within his reach, or so he thought. and then the phone call came. her sentiments remained steadfast. and everything went to hell. 

you had waited for him to come home so sweetly, and all he could do was take the heart you offered to him and smash it to pieces. the anguish he felt as he saw the light in your eyes go out was enough for him to punish himself forever for breaking the heart of the one person who truly saw him.

why? why? why? why did he think anything changed at all? why is this the price that he has to pay? your heart and his, because of his selfish decisions when he didn’t know any better. 

he had forgotten the feeling of his mother’s ironfist and now you are paying the price alongside him. thoughtless, greedy, piece of shit. the list of the names he could use to describe himself  goes on and on. 

but you would move on from him in time, fall in love with someone else who could treat you better, love you better than he ever could. share a life with someone who isn’t him. (he tells himself that the pain lining your face is temporary. necessary. for your own good.)

(it does not break his heart, or yours, any less.)

you should hate him for what he did. at least you were still friends. he laughs softly, the broken sound escaping his throat—as if only you could ever be just a friend to wakatoshi. 

he tells himself that it is his punishment to have the look of betrayal on your face be etched into his memory forever, accompanied by a pang of agony that stabs through the thing beating in his chest. he deserves worse. 

if you love someone, set them free. he didn’t understand why someone would do that when he was watching that tragic romance show with tendo, but he thinks he gets it now. he would be nothing more than another cage locking you in if he tried to keep you with him. 

so he set you free. 

a/n: on my knees begging for forgiveness </3 tags: @lemurzsquad @daisy-room @integers @brokenscaredakira @whosmarjj @nansfyy @illuzminate @httpshoyo @manyuyuu @hatsukeii @bakery-anon (tags were late because they were broken 😔)

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[royalmokwamonster]

July 22, 2024 @10:34pm

i think what's fucked up about having an undiagnosed bpd father is that you never know which days he's at his happiest or just fucking moody.

he last minute decided (ofc not consulting us, bc why would he? our opinions doesnt matter) we're gonna go across the damn border:) wow! we should all celebrate and be grateful! but the thing is, this is a trap. like always. and what's even more-unfair is that it is literally taking away one of four vacation days of kuya. oh yea btw he isn't coming. lol so what's the point of crossing the boarder if 3/4 doesn't want to go?

oh, yeah that's right! say it with me folks, our opinions doesn't matter <3

i left my bobba in the living room - where he is currently and i dont want to go down.

he just yelled at mom to shut up when she soflty spilled the beans how it's up to kuya whether he wants to join us- BUT "US" as in you, father, because mom and i dont have money to shop.

no seriously. you're not paying my tuition. you did not contributed shit for any payements for my requirements for 2nd year.

you literally came back w green grass not so long ago since you literally gave mom the silent treatment for 2-3 weeks

pretty fucked up? it's givingggg unresolved repressed emotions

yea....

i also hate this town lol tell me smt idk. no but it's literally something in the air of this ass fucking town, the children employees at my job is legit turning shit on me. all i did was say what the source told me and now yall are hating on the messenger, babe, bffr right now.

i unfollowed A on spotify and then saw E there too. it's weird havign these repressed memories that i stored away re-open again,,, like suddenly i remember every second of HS again. i just hate anything associated with this town.

i miss freedom.

i think that's why i miss mtl so much is bc we had so much of that and we took it for granted by the time we started living w father.

we all hate it here, did anyone tell you that? oh, right!! we did <3 but - say it w me now: our opinions doesn't matter <3 !!!!

this is so bullshit because the days where/when he is in a happier mood- my ass tries to console the hatred i have build up towards him like "awe, maybe i am being harsh on me, ik he's trying" but then days like this just reminds me all the WHYs i dont like being back home.

i want to leave this place, run away with mom and capps far far away from him as possible- sounds fucked up but its tru and peaceful.

ppl would say that's a selfish move, but i know who i'd volunteer to take care myself VS put in a retirement home.

i dream it's just me and mom....and maybe even kuya (distant neighbor). safe. with her garden full of flowers. with a living room that has a tv on the wall. with many painting that we hung up by ourselves. with a dog that nonstop eats and bothers mom. with a bed with all the different kinds of layers to her likings. with a coffe machine that works. with the chinaware up for display.

i want out of here. and what makes it even more sad is that, we (as i speak for me, kuya and mom), we all have gone through this enough times that saying/confessing how much we hate it here, this isn't new news.

fucked up.

we were better without you back then. you bring out the worst in all of us. you're miserable inside that you put it on us?! fuck you.

[kafkaoftherubble]

最近还没有新的project，所以跟放假无异。真惬意！

Although we didn't manage to do our Morning Routine, and I ended up moving the planned Resume Dollmaking plan to some other day (Wednesday? Thursday?), the rest of today was pretty great!

Seeing Dune (in fact—only one-third of it so far) on Netflix and streaming it on Discord turned out to be a success!

Seeing the movie with an unexpected TimothEÊĒÉ Chalamet Doubter—who seems to shiver every time the dude reappears on-screen—is hilarious. "I've been seeing this movie for a while now and I haven't seen him change his expression—oh wait, finally." It's the fact that this is from someone who dabbles in acting themself that makes it such a burn!

Honestly, we should pit Lyi the TimothÈËÊÉ Apologist with them together. This world has too much love and peace, there is not enough c h a o s!

Will resume the rest of Dune later tonight. And that will be after I game with Ritsu, who insisted that today we should play our old Resident Evil 6 instead. Her reasoning? "The way we suck has gone stale. We should be bolder and fail in new avenues! Be a generalist even in the art of being fucking failures!"

Please. Past Lyn had played RE6 with this lil' ass before. Remember the "大姐 I give you my controller! Control my character and control Chris just for this segment! ... WOW YOU SO AMAZING, YOU CONTROL CHRIS WITH YOUR FOOT!" session and the "大姐 WOOHOO BLAST THAT HELICOPTER WITH BAZOOKA! I'll be hiding in this room behind you and give you moral support! If you're near death I will come out and inject you with medicine! I NOW ISSA DOCTOR! ...WHAT? THESE GUNS ARE FOR COSPLAY!"

Oh god. We are not even gonna get past the first part of Level 1, are we?

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

The best thing about today is that I finally get to study.

That reminds me! I have never documented Miki the pencil case in this garden before. I think she was created by 2018 Lyndises. Ah, maybe next time.

----

Whenever I have time, however short that period might be, the book I always have the most interest in is Buddhist Ethics. Which... is really different from the choice of, say, Lyndises of a Few Years Ago. Fionn has such a hold on me, damn it.

Not that I'm complaining; I just like seeing him happy. I like seeing him think. I like hearing him explain shits. I just like hanging out with him.

The last time, the last Lyn stopped at the chapter discussing Buddhaghosa's Visuddhimagga ("The Path of Purification"). I did a bit of revision on it because I kinda forgot what's it about, and I can't continue if I forgot.

Visuddhimagga is a Theravadin ethical treatise. That means the self-liberation of the student (ya know, the one who's taking up the path) is the central goal. I have seen some Mahayana scholars and philosophers disparage Theravada school for being self-centered because their focus is self-liberation instead of "the liberation of all sentient beings." But man! Sectarian disputes, mate. Quite an unfair accusation, too, methinks.

Look at the central value Buddhaghosa emphasizes:

Generosity.

And he didn't mean generosity in finances or material goods. It's not about "a set of actions." Buddhaghosa's concept of generosity is an orientation. A preference in seeing the world; it's a whole-ass path. More specifically, it means being generous with one's time, patience, knowledge, effort, care, possessions—everything you own is liable to be given to anyone else who needs it more. That kind of generosity.

I really can't see how that makes the Theravada school selfish. Is the accusation aimed more at the intent of a Theravadin Buddhist instead of their ethical stance? "You're only doing all of these good things for your eventual liberation instead of to liberate everyone together!" That sorta thing?

Hmm. On paper, that intent does seem self-centered. But if putting Theravadin ethics into practice benefits people around that student in effect—is the accusation of selfishness really as meaningful as it sounds?

Look over here:

The ultimate goal of practicing generosity is the attainment of nonegocentricity, a.k.a the ethical side of anattā, "non-self."

Oh, but there is an additional side to practicing generosity, too. A phenomenological one.

Basically, one adopts the preference of generosity because the world is so interdependent (pratītyasamutpāda, "dependent co-arising") that any distinction between one's self and others is illusionary and arbitrary. That is a phenomenological realization—it's knowledge regarding how the world is perceived. When you give to someone, you didn't lose shit. That someone gained what you gave, and that translates to a mutual gain for both of you.

"When the mouth eats from the hand, the entire body benefits—the hand did not lose anything at all. It never had. But if the hand doesn't realize this, then it convinces itself it's now at a disadvantage and suffers from an invisible, nonexisting loss."

Hee hee! It's so nice to have someone like Fionn to provide commentaries.

---

Today's real new chapter is on the Mahayana treatise, specifically from the Mādhyamaka school: Śāntideva's Bodhicaryavatara ("How to Lead an Awakened Life").

The book noted the different metaphors Buddhaghosa and Śāntideva used, gleaned easily even from the title of their treatises. Buddhaghosa emphasized "purification," that is to say, removing negative qualities to purify one's conduct. Santideva's is a path of accumulation, which is where you collect noble qualities like Pokemon. These virtues are, you guessed it, the pāramitā, "perfections."

Pāramitā is such a Mahayana concept. As soon as you see these being mentioned, it's gotta be a Mahayana school. It harkens a bit to virtue ethics, methinks, as espoused by Ancient Greek philosophers.

Honestly, we haven't really gotten far into this subchapter. Garfield is an expert on Santideva's treatise, so he has a lot to say about it. In comparison, Visuddhimagga was more of Maria Helm's expertise, if I recall correctly.

For now, my favorite part of this subchapter is about the difference between the so-called "aspiring" and "engaged" modes of practice.

Aspirants are people who learn from philosophical classes, reading, reflections, and discourses—good old discursive knowledge you get by "hearing from others." It's good intentions—but no actions yet. That's not all; to hear about ethics from secondhand sources like that is to gain knowledge through concepts and abstract thoughts communicated by other people. That means a certain level of reality distortion not unlike learning about philosophy through stories and fiction and nonfiction articles.

To Santideva, one has to really put what they have heard into experiments and practice because then that knowledge becomes direct and experiential. "Knowledge gained from perception itself."

To practice the path of the Bodhisattva, empiricism is of utmost importance. "Knowing" isn't enough. "Seeing" is more important.

I agree with that, even if cognitive science would argue against framing perceptions as direct and less distorted than "discourses." Again, human brains are not that reliable.

We're mostly in agreement here, however; the reason why I favor ethics and phenomenology in philosophy over shits like metaphysics is because these are domains that can be put into practice. These are intellectual naval-gazing that influence actions, and therefore effects!

... Heh. "Empiricism" reminds me of someone.

---------

I wanna start reading The Lies That Bind starting this week.

I'm gonna bring it to that stupid wedding anyway. Might as well start reading now.

I already like the quote Kwame selected.

[bestcurse]

it’s apparent, just how much lighter the air feels between them, like an entire weight has been shifted, just from taking the time to see each other and talk, now. can only describe it as that understanding trickling back in, intertwining their souls together, once more. and he shouldn’t have expected otherwise, considering this was their safe place— the one place they could return to, at any time, where there was no judgement waiting, no expectations. it’s safe to say that he’s missed that aspect of their relationship, these past few years, never having anyone to turn to, like he has in her. perhaps it’s selfish, to be holding onto that, considering how different things are between them, now; how unfair it would be to still expect that from her. but, his eyes say it all, as his gaze travels over her features, of each and every one that he once had memorised like the back of his own hand, that he still traces over, each time he lays down to sleep, memories of her flooding to the forefront of his mind. “ you know i never would. ” own voice is a mere whisper. because he understands where it came from, or at least he thinks he does, now, in hindsight— there wasn’t any manual they had to follow, to tell them how to navigate this newfound friendship. “ no, yeah— that i can definitely do, ” and even though he laughs lightly, there’s a strain to the sound, realising that’s all he might be allowed to be, now. it’s relief that floods through him, as she reiterates that she didn’t hate him, that she never could, because it’s moments like these where he would never blame her, if she did. knows that she’s being truthful, though, that she wasn’t lying to him, like she lead him to believe this morning, last night— she wouldn’t still be here, otherwise, putting up with his shit if she meant otherwise. he wonders, briefly, if it’s because she still feels what’s here between them, just as he does, that it’s as ardent as ever, as comforting as it was on the first night they met. “ hey, you should be glad that you didn’t like anything accidentally, ” and it’s meant to tease, the smile on his face proving as such, but the words still flat, full with underlying guilt, that she felt like that. “ but i get it, you know? that it isn’t easy, and i’m sorry that it isn’t… think that’s why i avoid fletcher’s social media, or why hearing what you had to say this morning felt so uncomfortable, or why i left so soon after he showed up last night… it’s really fucking hard seeing you with someone else, too, ” and it had been, even all those years ago when they were still together, when he had tried hitting on her. but, he had ground to stand on, then, had the comfort of knowing that at the end of the night she was still coming home with him. “ think i might’ve been a little jealous, too, ” his gaze drops to his lap as the admission falls, imagining what it would be like to pull her hand into his own, one last time. “ but the love i have for you… that will never go away, you know that, hm? no matter where we are, or who we’re with— that’s yours. it’s only yours. ”

these days, it always felt like they were living on borrowed time. always a limited amount of time to talk, to text, to catch a grainy image of the other from miles and miles away, to just be with each other without any interruptions before one of them has to leave again, tearing open that wound inside them both. just the thought of him flying away once more has her stomach sinking, realizing she’s squandered what little time they had with her own pettiness and jealousy. “ honestly, i wouldn’t blame you if you held it against me forever, ” she admits, head lowered with her own shame over all she revealed to him without thinking of the consequences. it’s why she’s quick to nod in agreement at his words, teeth tugging anxiously at her lower lip before they part once more. “ yeah, no, i don’t think so either, ” and of course, it still stings to think of them as only friends, but it’s alright if it means she gets to have him in her life again. “ think we’re probably much better suited as friends who call each other at three in the morning when we’re spiraling about everything, yeah ? ” it’s followed with a soft chuckle, understanding the boundary he’s establishing, that it was best that they didn’t talk about such subjects ever again, that they weren’t capable of hearing about anything of that nature, considering their history. she knows wouldn’t survive hearing anything about his sex life with someone else, anyway, and it’s mortifying, just remembering all she said out of jealousy, just because she wanted a reaction out of him, some kind of acknowledgment that there was something here, still. she’s realizing now, though, that maybe she’ll have to learn how to live without that answer, or that maybe there wasn’t one, at all. not everything was as simple as it used to be, when it came to them. “ i could never hate you, ” and although it’s spoken quietly, it’s filled with conviction, because that, still, was quite simple to her. “ and you didn’t make a mess of anything. i’m still here, aren’t i ? can’t get rid of me that easy. ” in fact, she doesn’t think there’s anything that could drive her away from him, not when she feels like she’s really only just gotten him back. it reminds her to be honest, to not hold back what she knows she needs to say. “ think i'm the one who made a mess of things. i just really shouldn’t be allowed to drunk scroll your girlfriend’s instagram, ” a beat, as a pained smile crosses her features. “ i started comparing and overthinking, and… well, spiraling, and i— god, i felt like shit. ” the huff of laughter she lets out sounds more like a sigh, shrugging. “ i should’ve told you i was jealous instead of all of that. doesn’t excuse the stupid shit i said, but it’s never gonna be easy, you know ? seeing you with someone else. ”

[glassartpeasants]

frankie nsfw alphabet if that's ok?

Yee Yee sorry that this took me so long

Frankie the Undead NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: basically what you usually get. Nsfw shit

A-Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Personally, I see him being very sweet with it. He'll give you a massage or run a shower for the both of you. And even cuddle and talk about how he loves you while cuddling.

B-Body Part ( what's their favorite part about you and theirs)

Cheesy as it sounds. Its definitely your smile. He loves when you smile up at him with love and adoration when he's fucking you. I don't think he has one for himself actually. He hates knowing that he's dead and is actually really insecure about the fact so he doesn't view himself very nice. But it does get thrown out the window when you compliment him and tell him how much you love and adore every part of him.

C-Cum (basically what it implies)

Inside or on your tummy. While he'd love to see you gagging on his dick he just can't imagine kissing the same lips that sucked his dick to the point of him coming inside your mouth. So he might just come on your face and even that's iffy.

D-Dirty Secret (pretty straightforward)

Wants to be a sub just once to see what ots like. Who knows maybe he like it and let you control the ropes more often.

E-Experience (Do they know what they're doing?)

He probably had a few one night stands before you so I can safely say he knows what he's doing.

F-Favorite Position

He loves seeing your face when he fucks you stupid. So any position where he gets to look at your face automatic yes from him.

G-Goofy (How serious are they during sex?)

Serious. His goal is to make you feel on cloud nine. He also feels as if it's a serious thing now way more than it was before he met you.

H-Hair (How well groomed are they? Do the carpet match the drapes)

Yes the carpet does match the drapes and he likes to be shaved so it's not too noticed but it's kinda like a small stubble.

I-Intimacy (how are they during the moment)

Depends on his mood. It's usually romantic but sometimes when he gets in the heat of the moment it gets a little primal.

J-Jack off (masturbation headcannon)

If he did, it's probably before he met you. Why would he need to when he has you?

K-Kink (their kinks)

Definitely has a sort of breeding kink. Bondage and orgasm denial. Other than that I think he's pretty tame

L-Location (favorite places to go down)

Bed or couch. Maybe shower if he's feeling up to it.

M-Motivation (what gets them off)

Everything about you sets him off. He loves you to the moon and back and everything you do makes him feel a sort of love that he can only describe in fucking you.

N-NO (something they wouldn't do)

Fucking you in public. No one else gets to see what's only for his eyes. Daddy kink is also a no go for him

O-Oral (presence on giving or receiving, skill etc)

This would be the o ly thing he's selfish about. He just loves the feeling of your mouth wrapped around his cock. It gets him a huge high.

P-pace (rough and fast or slow and romantic?)

Depends on his mood and yours as well. Cause he wants you to enjoy it too. So he'll go whatever pace you want but it does usual go a little rougher when he's closer to climax

Q-Quickies (their opinions and how often)

Not often. But it does happen once in a blue moon when you've teased him enough and some sort of event.

R-Risk( anything they're willing to experiment)

I don't think so. Maybe if you catch him in the right mood but other than that nah.

S-Stamina ( how long they can go for)

2-3 rounds tops. He holds out until you come first. It's just a weird habit he does

T-Toy (Do they use them)

No. You have each other and don't need some stupid thing to get you off when he's perfectly capable of doing that on his own

U-Unfair (how much do they like to tease)

Probably teases you in bed a lot. He could be pounding you to next week and he'd probably start teasing your desperate form

V-Volume

A fee moans here and there but I do think he'd just make loud sighs and pants

W-Wild Card (random nsfw headcanon of your choice)

Major slut whenever you praise him and Jack him off. He's jelly in your hands for awhile

X- X-ray (what's going on down there)

5.5-6 inches. He's the perfect size for you and that's all that matters in his eyes.

Y-Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Not off the charts but if you want to go down and dirty then he's up for it.

Z-ZZZ (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards)

After taking care of you and making sure your okay and stuff, passes out and sleeps like a rock until morning. There's no getting him up so you can cuddle him all throughout the night

[itsgaga]

A-Z NSFW(Nikki Sixx)

this is my third time writing this so please excuse how bad it may or may not sound

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

At first Nikki wasn’t good with aftercare, he was used to being really selfish during and after sex so when it came to you he didn’t really know what to do afterwards. After you guys had done it a couple times you had explained to him why aftercare was important which ultimately changed how he treated you after sex. He slowly became more caring and affectionate wanting to cuddle with you, get you whatever you want/need, and he will clean you off.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Nikki fucking loves your legs and your neck, your legs though, like dude is obsessed with them. There's something about them that makes Nikki feel a certain type of way, as for your neck...it’s a jealous possessive thing. He loves to mark you up, especially when he is jealous, so your neck is the easiest place to go to. 

As for himself, he’ll tell you his dick. Mostly because that thing can do wonders. It pleases you, it pleases himself, what is there not to love about it? 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Nikkis cum is everywhere. It’s that simple. He wants it everywhere. The fucking sight of it afterwards is like a piece of art to him, idk why he’s like that, he’s a filthy dude, ok? I mean like yeah cumming in you or somewhere on your is fine but no this man just loves being dirty and getting it everywhere. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t really have much, he’s a open book, he’ll tell you everything he likes and wants to do but maybe that he loves to fuck in public because he wants to get caught. You guys haven’t got caught yet but Nikki really wants you to, like if you ever notice Nikki will extra loud in public it’s for that reason.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Hello? He’s Nikki fucking Sixx. What do you think?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. He loves to watch your face and your reactions while he’s fucking you. It could also tie in with that jealous side of him knowing that no other guy would see you like that, knowing that what he is doing is putting you in your most vulnerable state it all just turns him on even more.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nikki is a fiend. Nikki is not a saint. At least during sex, meaning Nikki is serious as can be. He’s all about devouring you and wants to do it better than how he did last time so he has no time to be goofy. But, there are those rare moments where that all disappears and he becomes softer and more gentle, like he will hold your hand and smile, that could happen for special things like birthdays or just when he wants to be more romantic. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He didn’t groom that shit at all for the first couple times yall fucked, but he started to around the same time aftercare became a thing. As for color it pretty much matches the rest of his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like I said he has his moments, it’s not like he doesn’t like to be romantic with you he just feels like it would be even more special if that side of him came out at more special times.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don’t think so. I think Nikki is always horny and he’s kind of learned to just deal with it but if he can’t and you aren’t there to help him out he would call you and get off with phone sex.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Spanking, choking, and roleplay. Theres a lot more like wax play, bondage, etc etc. But I think spanking, choking, and roleplay comes mostly everytime you guys fuck, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh he loves when you call him daddy. He likes when you sound like a needy whiny mess. Oh and Nikki is a dom no doubt, you can take control sometimes but he is a whole other level of dominant. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Tour bus, dressing room, hotel rooms, closets, bedrooms, cars, really anywhere. I think he likes bedrooms because thats where the kinky stuff can happen but he likes a challenge and will try that stuff in public. He has tried to fuck you over every piece of furniture, couch, counter, desk, etc. Like I said earlier he loves to fuck in public so... expect that anywhere you go. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

What doesn’t though? Nikki’s jealousy will get you bent over a piece of furniture in .5 seconds. Nikki after a concert is him running off stage and pulling you in the closest room possible. Whisper in his ear or talk in a lower tone then your natural talking voice and you two are in bed. Like it doesn’t take much from you to turn him on. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes or Voyeurism. Like I said Nikki is jealous/possessive. No sharing. I think the idea of it would turn him on until it actually happens and he would end up getting up really jealous.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

The dude is a fucking god. He loves receiving but giving? You won’t be able to walk. So he likes both receiving and giving. receiving because he loves to see you on your knees for him and the way you look at him while your giving head, while giving he loves to hear the way you sound, the way you taste, and the way your body reacts to him and his tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough. “The faster you go the more orgaisms you can get in a night, the slower you go the less you get in the same amount of time” idk. NIKKI LOVES ROUGHNESS, like seriously he is not a easy simple cum and go guy. He’s a i’m gonna fuck you so hard that you’re gonna cum 10 times by morning type of guy.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he’s horny and you’re there then you’re having a quickie, he prefers to have time to fuck but honestly you both get horny at the mist random times so it just has to be done. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Hahaha, yes. Anything you wanna try Nikki is down. I’m serious anything, anything at all he will say yes, he’s always looking to try new things with you especially things he hasn’t done with anyone else before.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Night to morning. Morning to night. Idk maybe. I think he will keep going until either you or him say you can’t handle it anymore. But as for rounds I would say 4 to 6 maybe a half an hour to a hour long.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I think he has some, not as much as one may think but I feel like he may have a couple vibrators, bondage, some plugs, dildos, blindfolds, handcuffs. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

BIGGEST FUCKING TEASE. He loves teasing the shit out of you. Will have you so close to having a orgaism and then pull away with a big stupid fucking grin on his face.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He won’t make a sound until he leans down to your ear and will start grunting and moaning, it drives you wild and he knows it which is why he does it everytime you guys fuck. He has and always will do that unless you’re in public then there’s no stopping whats coming out his mouth.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves dirty talk, but mostly from you. It’s the only time you have ever actually seen Nikki visibly weak. He especially loves when you do it and look at him innocently, it really pushes him to a limit that no other woman has before.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Now from the pictures that I totally haven’t seen ;) he isn’t small but he isn’t huge. I think he’s a grower not a shower which is fine, he knows what he is doing and knows how to use it right.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He could take you anywhere, anytime, anyday. He’s ready whenever he’s just waiting for you to be ready too.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a little longer to fall asleep then it does to you so while you’re asleep and just lays there cuddling you wondering how you went from whatever he was just fucking into a soft innocent looking angel.

[yvesdemetz]

"Varden is in surgery. A couple of Delphine's men, too. Lucien and Frédo are dead."

The delivery was blunt, even by his standards, but it was hardly the type of conversation where sugar-coating was appropriate. Yves was sick of delivering news like this. On their own front doorstep? It should've have fucking happened at all.

"Laurent got shot in the face, so the fact he even made it to the hospital is astounding. They don't sound hopeful. I doubt he'll make it to tomorrow."

Whilst he had never made his disdain for the man a secret, there was a nagging twinge of guilt that settled in the pit of his stomach after seeing how desperately he'd tried to put himself between Sylvie and the gunmen. For someone he'd consistently pegged as a selfish piece of shit, Yves was now left wondering if he'd been unfair in his assessment. There was something more troubling, though, and even though he understood every member of the French Organization would jump to blaming the Russians, the evidence made it all the more damning:

"Given that someone relieved him of his Commandant ring before moving on, I don't think we have to spend much time guessing who was responsible."

The second Yves text came through, Jean was in a car and on his way out of the city of London. Ideally before the crowds started running from whatever mess was happening in South Kensington that kicked things off. The news was concerningly vague. Shootings weren't completely foreign to London (even if the volume was no where near the volume in places like Launceston), but they were mostly contained to areas like Haringey, not South Kensington. And clearly their own must have been involved if Yves was summoning them to the estate.

He could hear the other man berating Patrice long before he entered the room, but Jean kept his mouth shut and followed Yves' command until the door shut and they were alone. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own cigarette. What he wouldn't kill for a drink. But, now wasn't the time. "What happened? I heard there was a shooting, but not who was involved." Clearly Yves himself was, judging by the blood stains on his shirt.