#because yeah. i did think that everyone was just really polite and chill about the universal handcuff timeout rule...

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

I always thought that handcuffs were kinda stupid. As a little kid I would watch movies where the bad guys were hauled away in cuffs and I'd always think "alright, I guess that's inconvenient for them?" but I never really understood why they didn't just... take them off and escape

This curiosity heightened when I saw that my aunt had real metal handcuffs that locked with a real key and I quickly, before any adult could see what I was doing, shackled both my wrists with the cuffs as tight as they could go.

And when I say tight, I mean tight. I had reaaaaal skinny wrists and I was a child wearing adult handcuffs, so you'd think the cuffs would be loose but nope. Those things weren't circular anymore, they'd folded in so much that they looked more like the shape a cat's pupils turn when they're mad.

And what they don't tell you about real handcuffs? Those suckers are sharp. The inside edges are almost bladed, I guess to discourage exactly what I was trying to do but that certainly didn't stop my curious lil neurodivergent brain, oh no no.

Anyway, after about five minutes of pulling, straining, huffing and puffing, I finally went to find the adult with the key.

I was so disappointed.

And so, so hopelessly confused.

Course, no one questioned why I had locked my aunt's handcuffs and why I needed them unlocked. And, of course, I didn't communicate my confusion in any way.

So it wasn't until way later in life, when I had quickly shimmied out of one of those indestructible water park wristbands and saw the horrified eyes of my friends watching me with morbid glee, that I discovered that, apparently, most people can't dislocate their thumbs at will.

The moral of the story here is that neurodivergent children have no concept of typical versus atypical and that I cannot be contained by your petty mortal means.

[doofsevilinc]

Let Me?

Art Donaldson x reader

Notes: suggestive, fwb-ish, non-tennis AU, university AU, polisci mentioned 😬 first ever work, comments/feedback appreciated 🗣️

Word count: 1k

A/N: sorry for blueballing mike faist call me

Summary: Political science can be a hard major. Everyone needs a distraction sometimes.

Now playing: Play Date - Melanie Martinez

“I’m walkin’ to your house, nobody’s home,

just me and you and you and me alone.”

——————————————————————

Art was so polite. When you first met through your polisci study group friends, he was the perfect gentleman. When you all would go out together, he’d hold the door for you, always pull out your chair when you came back to the table with drinks. You figured he was like that with every girl, your typical midwestern sweetheart.

You couldn’t have caught how his eyes lingered on you when you’d walk past him through the door, or how they drifted downward while you chatted and passed out drinks. No one could. No one suspected it of him. He was too slick about it.

So when the rest of the group wasn’t available and he asked you to help him study for an upcoming test, you thought nothing of it. His roommate would be right next door anyway.

And it really was nice. It was enough to make learning about congressional oversight over the bureaucracy less excruciating. You two laughed a lot (he did at all of your jokes) and he’d smile so sweetly at you that it sort of gave you butterflies. Of course you wouldn’t object when he started only asking for you to study with. You figured it was because you were good at the subject anyway. It’s not like you weren’t getting something out of it too. You had to admit that you liked how he acted like your puppy. He’d do anything you asked, get you whatever snacks you wanted, ever the knight in shining armor. He really was a cutie, especially when got that embarrassed blush on his face hearing his roommate outside the door with the girls he brought back, or the constant EDM blasting from his room.

Midterms were coming up, and you were stressed. You were a high achiever, but studying for 5 classes was a lot to juggle. So of course you took up Art’s offer of a study/chill sesh at his dorm. You knocked, and he opened, wearing his red cap backward, another thing you thought was cute on him. You looked a little past him, noticing the silence. His roommate wasn’t there. Your eyes fell back on him and you noticed that this time he looked more… pensive. He looked tired, his lips looked bitten on. You chalked it up to the time of year. You probably looked out of sorts too. As he held the door and you brushed past him, though, you could feel his eyes on you, stalking you like prey.

You were sat on his bed, and the lack of technobeats in the background made the air feel heavy. Things were more quiet this time as you two once again went through the motions of flipping through flashcards detailing factors affecting political efficacy. It almost felt tense. You weren’t so sure his roommate’s absence was entirely at fault. At some point you put them down and sighed, slumping against the wall.

“I can’t do this anymore. I just wish midterms were over. I feel like I haven’t relaxed in weeks.”

He was still upright, looking at you keenly.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

He put his cards down without taking his eyes off of you.

“I need a distraction. Just for a little. I just wanna stop thinking.”

He huffed in agreement, then paused. Now he looked down. Started biting his lips again. He swallowed.

“I could…help you with that.”

Maybe you were reading too far into the tension in the room, but your mind quickly darted to something…uncivil. Your stomach jumped before you regained your composure. …He was cute. It’s not like in your horny hellscape of a university you hadn’t thought about it before. You had no time for a relationship that could relieve your frustrations, something your major was known for, and which you and your single friends complained about often. It was starting to take a toll. Still, you took the thought out of your head. You just had a dirty mind. That’s not what he meant. He was gonna pull playing cards out of his pocket or something. You laughed a little, lightly, cautiously.

“What do you mean?”

He looked back up, eyes shining, piercing. His face grave, like when you’d came in. It made you feel almost too seen…almost naked. Almost like your minds had gone to the same place.

His eyes went down again, landing on his fingertips, which you hadn’t noticed had reached the edge of your thigh. In fact, you couldn’t focus on much outside of your heart beating in your ears.

“I just…I’ve been really stressed too. Really busy. I mean, the way we all are. Too busy to…you know…” He trailed off a little, his eyes crinkling in an embarrassed huff, softening his features. “And…you know what a good stress reliever is?”

He was hesitant, but the question was rhetorical. The way he said it was enough to give the answer. Your peers talked about their sexual frustrations enough that you knew it was on their minds too.

It was so still that you feared he could hear your heart beating out of your chest. You both being on the same page had caught you off guard.

Your silence caused him to backtrack, trying to read your face. “I mean, we always talk about not having time for dating and wanting hookups and stuff… I just figured since we know each other we could…I don’t know…lend each other a hand.”

You could feel your face getting hot, giddiness rising inside you. Seeing the small smile on your face, and how you watched his fingertips on their trail up your thigh, he seemed to relax.

You felt cheeky. He was into you. “So you wanna help me out?”

“…please?” His eyes turned pleading. “No one’s here.” He said softly, suggestively.

Your face turned even hotter. He was right. You were alone. No one would hear him putting you through the mattress like you’d tried not to imagine before. God, you were getting ahead of yourself. You nodded. He pulled away from you, and the vacant space he left on your thigh felt cold. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he got off the bed, kneeling, and settled between your legs.

He gazed up at you, looking more puppy-like than ever, his wide, desirous eyes a question — a desperate plea.

“Let me?”

[joostsblog]

i loved to be desired sm omg. Could i request a joost x reader where reader is partying with joost and friends. they meet ski aggu and are chilling and they tell ski that they are super into joost but joost isnt into them and they are sad about it. The ski aggu makes it his mission to make joost jealous to get them together and there is a lil angst but reader and joost end up together and making out.

loved writing this request!! i love shy!joost in this, hope you enjoy!!❣️❣️

is this as good as it gets? ~ joost klein one shot

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader (also Ski Aggu x reader if you squint ig)

Description: When you almost lose all your hope getting with Joost, Aggu proposes an interesting idea to get the two of you together.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: title and also vibe inspired by as good as it gets by fizz so i highly rec giving that song a listen! again, you can still send in requests 💌

Warnings: consumption of alcohol and cigarettes, not proofread

You should write Mel a thank you note, really. For one because she always lets you crash at her place whenever you visit Berlin (which happens to be very frequently, actually) but also for tagging along to her party nights with her Berlin friends which also include the famous German rapper Ski Aggu and his dutch friend Joost who you couldn't seem to keep your eyes from. Ever since you first met last time you were in Berlin (which was only three weeks ago) you were crushing on the man - hard. And suddenly you were pretending you knew more about music than you actually did just so you could try to hold a conversation with Joost. And you stepped out one time too many to smoke a cigarette with him when you usually smoked maybe two cigarettes within one year. And overthinking whatever you should wear to go out with Mel and all her friends without even knowing if Joost was gonna be there that evening as well.

And when you decided to visit Mel again just three weeks after having been the last time ("Already?"), maybe Joost was a deciding factor as well. You didn't even know if he was gonna be in Berlin around the same time as well but you were in luck when you and Mel walked into the bar and you could see Joost's figure sitting beside Aggu. You tried to play it cool as you greeted everyone and finally got to Joost.

"So nice to see you again," you said earnestly as you both hugged.

"Likewise," Joost said and gently rubbed your back. You hoped that he wasn't just being polite and actually remembered you.

You were also in luck when there was a free spot beside Joost which you could take as you tried to casually open a conversation with him, talking about whatever the two of you had been up to in the last few weeks. You talked about his hometown, your hometown, why you were visiting Berlin so often and how you were thinking of moving here. You could tell that Joost was taking interest in the conversation and by extension you, but it wasn't enough for you. You knew that you wanted Joost in other ways and you wondered how and if you could persuade him of you.

"I'm getting a new drink," you announced. "Does anybody want anything?" you asked and hoped Joost would say something or offer to come with you to the bar.

"Actually, I'll go with you," Ski Aggu offered instead.

"Alright," you smiled and you two headed off to the bar.

The bar was incredibly crowded and you could already tell that you would have to wait a while until the bartender would get around to take your orders. You leaned against the counter.

"So, does Joost visit here often?" you asked and immediately regretted it as it came out way too obsessively as you had intended to. Aggu laughed.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked amused.

"I don't know, just because I don't live here as well," you tried to casually explain.

"Yeah, well, he's working on new music currently, so he comes here a lot," Aggu said and paused as he seemed to contemplate for a moment. "Joost is cute, right?" he tested you. Blood rushed to your head.

"I suppose," you shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nah, come on, he's very cute, we can agree on that," Aggu pushed jokingly.

"I imagine most girls would agree," you said.

"Maybe, but I'm talking about you," Aggu said and poked your shoulder as he said the last word. "Do you think he's cute?" he asked again. "Or sexy or dreamy or whatever?"

"Yeah, I think Joost is very cute," you blushed. "Is it obvious?" you asked.

"Well, I think Mel mentioned how you're not a smoker when we first met and suddenly Joost is here and all of a sudden you're out with him for a smoke every hour or so," he teased and you hid your face behind your hands in embarrassment.

"Oh god," you groaned.

"Nah, come on, it doesn't matter," Aggu said. "Nothing to be embarrassed about," he insisted and removed your hands from in front of your face.

"Yeah, but Joost definitely doesn't like me," you explained with a saddened expression on your face. Aggu raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know that?" he inquired.

"I don't know, I just feel like he's deliberately treating me like a friend, you know, in a very platonic way only," you tried to explain. "Like he's very persistent about me just being a friend - if that," you said. Aggu looked sceptical.

"Listen, I don't know if Joost likes you back but I do know that he's a little awkward about flirting and expressing his feelings and whatever," he said. "He might need a little help to push him along," Aggu said with a knowing smile. You looked at him with a confused expression on your face. "You can say no to this if you want, but I have an idea for us," Aggu said and you nodded, indicating for him to keep going. "What if we both do a little thing to make Joost jealous?" Aggu proposed and your heart started racing.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"Let's just try for tonight to spend a lot of time together, laughing a lot, sitting very close to each other, touching, flirting and just rubbing it in Joost's face that you're having a great time with me?" Aggu explained. "In fact, I saw Joost looking over at us standing here a few times already," Aggu pointed out and you looked over to the table where all your friends were sitting and as your gaze crossed Joost's eyes he immediately averted the gaze and looked in another direction. "We've got nothing to lose, either way the outcome, we'll just have a fun evening together," Aggu concluded.

You contemplated Aggu's idea for a second before you decided that he was right - you had nothing to lose. Aggu obviously was a nice and handsome guy so you wouldn't mind having a fun evening with him as well.

"Alright, it's a deal," you said with a smile and extended your hand before Aggu took it for a handshake.

"Alright, let's start with me buying you a drink," Aggu grinned and moved to stand closer to you. You casually rested your hand on Aggus bicep as you kept talking until the bartender finally took both of your orders.

"Is this okay?" Aggu asked as his arm wrapped around your waist to hold you.

"Yes," you said and you wondered whether Joost could see you right now, what he would feel at the sight of you two being so close to one another. "Thanks for the drink," you said and cheered your cup to Aggu's after you got your drinks.

"Scoot over," Aggu directed Joost as you got back to your table. You could read a confused expression on Joost's face for just a second before he darted his eyes back and forth between you and Aggu quickly. As Joost moved over from his spot Aggu could now sit beside him and you could take your seat beside Aggu.

As you were talking with Aggu you made an effort to seem careless and laugh at every joke he made, softly grazing his arm if the chance occurred or bite your lips as you watched his face. It took everything in you to look to the left of Aggu to check on Joost. You were so desperate to see whether he was fazed by your spiel. But you knew you needed to ignore him for the time being. Aggu took the biggest leap so far when he casually wrapped his arm around your shoulders to bring you closer to him as you giggled.

"Alright, I'm going for a smoke," Joost announced almost immediately after. Aggu's arm dropped from your shoulder as you both had to move over to let Joost out of the booth. After Joost got out he stood there for a moment looking down at you with a blank expression. Did he wait for you to join him for a cigarette as you always had in the past? Surely not, you thought before Joost turned around to get outside alone.

~

Joost leaned against the wall outside as his cigarette was slowly nearing its end. Usually, you would be leaning against the wall beside him as well and he would intently listen to whatever story you were telling him, always grateful that you were so good at making conversation. If it weren't for that fact you might as well would have never talked to each other. And although Joost tended to be a little quieter around you, he was hanging onto every word you said. The truth is, Joost was a little shy around you because you mattered to him. Because he liked you, he was way too afraid to mess something up. So he stood back instead.

But now he was cursing himself for doing so. Because apparently now you had enough of him and instead you were attached at the hip with Aggu. And the situation was made worse by the fact that Aggu was Joost's friend. He was annoyed at Aggu for snatching you away from him but he knew he shouldn't feel angry and instead be happy for his friend.

Joost flicked his cigarette to the ground and stumped it out before he decided to get back inside. As he looked over to the table where you and your friends sat he caught your gaze. You were sitting on Aggu's lap, your arm wrapped around his shoulders. Joost stood still, the sight really making him not want to sit back down beside you. Aggu leaned into you and whispered something into your ear as you were still looking over at Joost who couldn't hide the sad expression on his face.

Joost felt uncomfortable and looked down at his phone before he decided to step out again instead of sitting back down at the table. Time for another cigarette or just maybe go back home already. As Joost lit the cigarette in his hand, the door to the bar opened again and you stepped out into the cold.

"Hey," you said softly.

"Hey," Joost replied with a nod. "Want one?" he asked and held out his hand with his pack of cigarettes. Your arms were crossed in front of your body because of the temperature. You looked down at his offer before you declined.

"You know I usually don't smoke," you admitted.

"Really?" Joost asked with a raise of an eyebrow. "That's news to me," Joost said although it really shouldn't come as a surprise to him as he noticed that you never carried your own pack of cigarettes.  

"I know," you laughed. "Are you having a good evening?" you asked.

"Not really," Joost admitted honestly.

"How come?" you asked and Joost didn't answer. Instead, he just shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal. You could feel an aura of sadness radiating from him and you suddenly felt really bad for the spiel you and Aggu had been doing tonight. Although you still didn't know how Joost felt about you, you wondered if you had somehow contributed to his bad mood tonight.

"How long are you staying in Berlin for?" Joost asked after he released a puff of smoke.

"Another two days," you said. "You?" you asked in return.

"'M leaving next week," Joost said. "You should come back soon," Joost tried nonchalantly, giving you a sign that he cared about you in some way.

"You think?" you said with a smile.

"Yeah, you're fun to have around," Joost said.

"Well, I'm sorry if I haven't been around you tonight a lot," you said earnestly.

"It's fine," Joost said. If he had the confidence of Aggu, Joost would only have to take one step forward to engulf you in a kiss. "Can't blame Aggu," he said and immediately realised the implication of his words. He looked up at you again and saw a smirk on your face.

"You know me and Aggu aren't actually-," you tried to explain. "We're just friends," you said and Joost could feel a blush creeping on his face.

"Oh?" Joost said.

"Yeah, I'm interested in someone else actually," you said.

"Oh," Joost stated.

"If only he would notice already," you said and looked Joost deeply in the eyes.

"Maybe he's too shy," Joost offered.

"He doesn't have to be," you said and stepped towards Joost. You reached out for his hand and took the cigarette before you put it to your mouth to take a drag. As you let it fall to the floor Joost slowly and carefully reached out his arm to your hip without actually laying his hand on there. You stepped just a little closer until his hand touched your hip and you were standing so close you had to look up to him. "He could just kiss me," you said and it wasn't long before Joost leaned down, his hand finding the back of your neck, and his lips attached to yours.

You approvingly hummed into the kiss. Joost's lips tasted of beer and smoke but it was a divine taste to you as your lips started moving against each other in sync. You rested your hands on Joost's chest where you could feel his calm breathing. Joost's hands tangled in your hair as your lips parted to taste each other on your tongue. Your head was spinning, heart racing as you finally got what you had been looking for since the night you first met Joost.

As you pulled back from the kiss Joost cupped your face and looked down at you with a sheepish grin on his face.

"We should've done this way sooner," he stated.

"That's what I've been saying!" you laughed before you leaned back in for another kiss.

[chaifootsteps]

i struggle between the idea of "verosika, vortex, fizz, asmodeus, and other characters act ooc towards stolas when the story needs it for the sake of making him look better",

and,

"these characters do not know the horror stolas is capable of, are not aware that stolas called blitz, knowing he was bleeding and running for his life, just to make the arrangement he explicitly set up as "favors for favors", and they probably will never know, or any of the other geninuely terrible things he did," and both feel true, even if theyre technically contradicting each other. it feels weird to say characters can act out of character without certain information to alter how they act, but.. i mean, sometimes its just comical.

is there not something inherently fucked up about knowing asmodeus, king of consent, is chill with stolas, because oz doesnt know that stolass spent an entire season pushing boundaries, belittling blitz in a fetishistic way, and coerced him into fucking monthly for something he needed no matter what for his business?

these characters dont have to know exactly what happened, but what i do know is that their attitude would more then likely change if they learned the truth. i wish stolas's line of, "why would i allow everyone to see how much i like you?" actually meant something, because who knows that stolas likes blitz besides the people in ozzie, ozzie himself, fizz, stella, octavia, and.. that's it. verosika doesnt even know, she just assumes stolas hates blitz too. it doesnt really feel like it matters that they know, because despite them seemingly being important characters within hell, they barely have an effect on it. but it doesnt matter anyway- because mammons special episode just confirmed out right that no one there actually gives a shit about class difference! so whatre we even doing here when the shows premise was built on the basis of how supposedly taboo is it for a goetia and imp to fuck?!

if these characters knew about their deal, then yeah, the show would be holding him accountable. because the world would be naturally reacting to his actions, since rape is.. looked down upon in lust, but ok in pride i guess because of velvettes lust potion? idk :/ like let's just say for the sake of this example that only shitty people that happen to be imps, and sinners, are okay with that stuff. most imps and hellhounds seem like well rounded, average people, just with a little extra sprinkling of edgy.

i just cant help but to think; what if the story actually took advantage of hells disgust for relationships with upper and lower class demons? instead of just dropping it so ozzie and fizz could have their public "i love you so much and i dont care what anyone else thinks of it!" moment?

what if blitz got caught with the book instead of being given the crystal, and started a whole political scandal throughout hell when he gets arrested, (a good way to re-implement that stupid ass concept of prisons in hell,) but threw stolas under the bus with him by confessing (in an uncomfortable graphic detail, because i think blitz is one of those people who would make everyone feel uncomfortable when things suck for him,) that he was sleeping with stolas for the book? so that way he'd be in deep shit too.

i dont think its unrealistic either- news reporters swarmed stolas with a crowd when he got his shit rocked by striker, so hes definitely important, even if we dont know what that ugly ass dry walmart rotisserie chicken even does for his job.

i'd love to see a montage of characters like stella, verosika, fizz and oz, even fucking wally wackford; reading the news paper that morning, or watching news on the TV, only to see: "BREAKING NEWS! GOETIA PRINCE STOLAS CAUGHT HAVING SEX WITH AN IMP AND ILLEGALLY HANDING OUT TRANSPORTATION TO THE HUMAN REALM!"

if that happened, then i'd be fine with stolas being a petty bitch. because he'd have practically nothing at that point, besides his daughter and his big rich house, if they dont take it from him in this scenario bojack horseman style.

its weird, gross, and unsatisfying that they set up these big stakes with big potential consequences, but the only actual consequence is stolas getting his feelings hurt, so he can feel justified into "succumbing" into thinking what blitz had was a romance, or even a relationship at all.

It's mind-bogglingly frustrating. None of these characters have any idea how terribly Stolas treats Blitzo, and that's exactly the way Viv intends to keep it.

Hell, Blitzo was there for all of it and she very pointedly never allows him to bring it up.

[valentine-writes]

Spot nation is here humbly requesting again u-u One of your recent works breifly touched on The Spot getting protective over an upset reader. Would love to read your take on expanding that concept. :^] Make it as lighthearted or serious as you like! Maybe the reader has to tell him to chill out instead. Like, we love you queen but take it easy. No worries if this isn't smthn you want to do! Loving your writing in general! Take care :>

:(

「 tws + notes: POSSIBLE FLASH WARNING FOR THE GIF BELOW THE CUT?? (jus to be safe!! idk if this is needed or not-), no tws, unedited, super silly moment from me im not in a slash srs mood 」

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

↳ ft. johnathan ohnn/the spot

author's note: AUWWHJWAB HELLO!!! u are so so polite omg thank u so much ! ^_^ i luv tha enthusiasm i've been seein from spot nation tbh!!! o((>ω< ))o i'd be happy to expand on that hc! im gon make it a little teeny tiny bit more lighthearted becuz i luv myself some silly hcs but here we go!! super duper soz if itz a bit short anon </3

▸ i think i like writing the spot as a silly lil dude who is jus tryin so so hard. but also he did work for Fucked Up Evil and Co. (alchemax is just brimming w/ all sorts of brilliant minds with horrifying ideas in the name of science. kingpin ran this shit and would not have it any other way) like he's not beyond being an absolute menace he just didn't have the means for it at the beginning of the movie. so we're gonna keep it lighthearted and silly but,,,

we're gonna keep this in mind too, yeah?

▸ you're incredibly dear to him. he's become a little more protective than he usually would be (can't have you being taken away from him! not after literally everyone else in life life ditched–) and it's just the littlest bit unhealthy.

he really does mean well! you just find yourself reminding him to dial it down a bit.

▸ especially after he's gotten a hang of using his powers?... he's got the means to keep you from harm. he may still be insecure about his appearance, but those thoughts can be (temporarily) satiated when he knows what he can do.

the power at the multiverse, in the palm of his hand

i mean. you can't expect him to not want to defend you with it.

▸ you remind him, time and time again that he really doesn't need to check up on you that frequently. in spite of this, he can't help peeking into a portal, just to check on you here and there.

"i swear to you, i'll be fine." you tell him, time and time again- and he trusts you, he really does. but it doesn't hurt to be absolutely, positively, 100% certain, right?

▸ on the days you're upset because of a particularly bad day (not specifically conflict with people, just little things or internal issues, etc, etc... the Horrors,,,,) he offers the support he knows that he'd want.

if you're a person who's obvious with their emotions, he's pretty okay with picking up the cues you're not doing fine. will start up a conversation and then awkwardly ask if you're doing okay.

it's a little more tricky if you're subtle. overtime, he learns what to look for- little signs that indicate you're not doing well- and ensures that he's straightforward in asking about how you're feeling.

and sometimes, he able to sense that something is off. there's a tension in the air neither of you want to talk about, a feeling in his bones that he can't quite shake. he dislikes this the most. mainly because it's easy to attribute this feeling to overthinking. he'll check up on how you're feeling anyways. even if it takes a while to muster the courage.

without fail, he feels his heart break a bit when you look up at him with the saddest expression he's seen on your face. your frown is almost painful to see :(

he's got a very formulaic strategy in his mind that he uses to help you deal with bad days

something like this mefinks,,,

[ step a: he starts by asking what's going on with you... ask how you're feeling and all that. if your mood is negative, he'll try to ask why and if you wanna talk about it ]

if you choose to take up the offer, go to step b. if you refuse, go to step c.

[ step b: listen! provide support, be attentive. he'll let you rant, scream about it (ok maybe not too loud though, but,, y'know. if it helps, it helps), cry- anything. if you do cry, go to step d ]

[ step c: distract!! distract, distract, distract. you got a favourite comfort show or movie? he tells you: hey, you haven't watched it in a while (even if you have), why don't we put it on? your favorite video game? he'll play with you! talk about your favorite things or talk about nothing while you grab a snack or drink. he knows avoiding stuff isn't gonna work for long term problems, but he's more than willing to cheer you up ]

[ step d: SILENTPANICSILENTPANIC... internally he's just kinda freaking out because it's hard to see you cry. he's not awful with comfort- just a little stiff, y'know? much better with distractions. but in the event of you crying: he'll rub your back, wrap his arms around you. or give you space (depending on what you need) probably goes "hey, no, no no- it's okay, it's okay-" while attempting to soothe you. gives you time to cry it out while he babbles reassurances under his breath. ]

he really does try his best (´꒳｀。)

▸ if you're beefing with someone and it's making you upset, he'll listen to you complain about them. out here nodding and agreeing with you like he was there to witness. again, he's got your back!!

(this part partially inspired by @//spdrslayr 's posts!!) in interest of cheering you up,,, you two make fun of the person.

if you're someone to openly bitch about someone and aren't afraid of getting a little mean behind someone's back,, he's making fun of them too.

of course, if you're like "noo,, but like,,, that's mean-" he's quick to remind you what they did. like they had the audacity, there's no need to be sorry.

if you're consumed by harrowing guilt anytime you're remotely rude (even behind someone's back) he'll tone the jokes down. just a little. he can be VERY a little out of pocket.

likes watching you try not to lose it, stifling laughter, as you share a moment over mutual hatred for said person

"hey– that wasn't.. that wasn't funny–" you're snicker, doing very little to hide the obvious smile on your face. he loves seeing your face brighten, the frown on it now replaced with a grin you just can't hold back

he's gonna crack jokes about them randomly too in your conversations. he's good at holding a grudge yeah,,, but at least in this case he's funny abt it. it's lowkey starting to sound like he was wronged instead of you.

▸ if someone hurts you? that's a whole other story. (hehe. whole- my bad.)

being inconsiderate, rude, and mean to you is one thing, but bringing physical harm to you?

he can't stand the idea that someone would want to harm you. it doesn't matter what happened in the events leading to it. he knows you didn't deserve it. he knows it. the minute he sees the tears stinging in your eyes,, the bruising on your body– the blood–

someone's going to have to answer for it.

(but im not talking abt him tryin to rock someone's shit becuz that would be 10x longer blehhhh :p)

[morskisir]

Answer to this ask I had to post seperately because I reached the character limit or something.

OHHHH Anon you are not ready. I think about this bastard so much and too deeply.

Before I get into it:

I love how you worded this question- gives a nice atmosphere.

Just to be clear this is all about RED Sniper. I apologise to any BLU Sniper enjoyers for I don't have thoughts about that guy.

I'm not the biggest fan of the comics for many reasons so don't mind me retconning a lot of that.

In the end these are all MY opinions and views of him- if you don't like them that's no problem. It's free real estate.

And FINALLY; my thoughts, under read more:

OKAY, let's start with what even got me to interpret him the way that I do; hell yeah baby, it's Meet the Sniper time.

I've seen MANY people often assume that Sniper is one of the most normal/chill people of the 2fort nine- but the impression I got is that he wants you to think he's normal so desperately despite everything else pointing to how fucking weird he actually is. Simply noticing the stuff he's saying makes it a lot more clear. The very beginning where he goes "Boom, headshot," making light of taking another person's life so swiftly. "Cause at the end of the day; as long as there's two people left on the planet- someone is gonna want someone dead," really positive light you see the world in, Sniper.

Of course you can take this as him being "realistic", and I do agree he's more of a realist than a pessimist or optimist, but "...have a plan to kill everyone you meet," is SO fucked up. Why is his first thought when meeting someone to know how to kill them? This to me is him not being able to properly connect to other people/understand them or actually SEE them as people. Not to mention his smile after delivering that shot in the timelapse of him sniping (AND after stabbing Spy). This cunt enjoys killing. He's not the type to slowly kill someone or torture them- but he is the type to feel satisfaction after planting a bullet in someone; give himself a pat on the back for it- or perhaps find humour in the kill.

The conclusion this brought me to is that he is an unreliable narrator in "Meet the Sniper". (Also the "..be polite," line. Yeah, sure, dude. Your voice lines are very polite.)

CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIS FUCKING TEETH? The way his teeth look and how much they're shown to the viewer by exaggerating his mouth movements feels like a "this guy is NOT normal" sign. No one in the game has teeth similar to him and his canines are HUGE. Like holy shit, he's an apex predator.

A comment @cheebuss (I know you wanna get tagged) saw once has been a running joke between us- it was basically "He indicates so he's normal," which is fucking hilarious, but I can genuinely refute that point. First of all we see him fucking speeding in the beginning of the video- to be fair we don't know what the speed limit on this road is, BUT:

Cunt drives around with a broken side mirror. That's really unsafe, obviously. A good chunk of that mirror has gone to shit and he does not care to replace it (which feeds into my headcanon of him being stingy/not wanting to spend money because he lived on a farm and they did everything themselves). Speaking of his van; it gave me the impression he likes having everything he needs near him- he doesn't need a grand, expensive space to feel comfortable. (I headcanon that he's actually scared/unnerved by vast, empty spaces/buildings) ALSO I think he's messy and prefers the claustrophobia of his van. I like to believe his childhood room was much the same (to the detriment of his mother)- that's his safe space damn it!!!

And here I can transition into talking about his parents!!! : D Of course, not much was shown to us of Mr. & Mrs. Mundy, but we can still glean some stuff from the video- and partially- the comics.

His father very obviously disapproves of his job, calling him "a crazed gunman", and showing his morals do not align with Sniper's. Sniper calls for his mum during the phone call shown at the very end of the video- looking annoyed and somewhat distressed. It's clear to me that they've had this argument many times and Mrs. Mundy is the mediator in them. I think she disapproves of the job as much as her husband does, but is sick of hearing them argue to that extent. Regardless of this conflict, Sniper loves and cares for his parents- they are his world. He doesn't care for anyone else, most of the shit he does is for their sake and continuing to provide support so they can live a stable life at their farm as they get older. It's one of the nicest things about Sniper.

Although, I do think he struggled to get them to understand him properly. He is a quiet man who doesn't express a lot of his emotions. That will complicate things, especially if he doesn't talk about it- and he doesn't!!! : D

Despite this, I think they were the people he was closest to. Sniper, to me, is a guy who's never had friends and has been lonely as well as isolated his entire life. "Too weird to live, much too rare to die." And this is a VERY long time we're talking about; DECADES. Decades of minimum to no human connection. (Just to note; he is almost 50 to me. The comic writers fucked the timeline up and made him a 20 something year old. The Sin. Do not speak of it to me. It makes him less interesting/compelling I'm not kidding.) He is anxious in social settings, barely speaks up, and prefers to simply back away when he doesn't know how to deal with something. (SUPER DUPER AUTISM + SOCIAL ANXIETY!!!) Does he try to interact with his co-workers? Veeeeery little. He yearns for connection he convinces himself he doesn't need. He trusts no one. He's a mystery to them.

But hey!!! Less distractions from his job!!! (Bad transition) This man is genuinely incredible at what he does- I keep replaying the part where he reloads his rifle. He was not kidding about being efficient (he also kills the entire BLU team in that video??). The lad's got incredible patience, aim, control, and overall understanding of what he's doing. There's something fucked up about him observing the people he's targetting like prey, but let's leave that for when I mention his previous job as a tracker (if I do). I imagine the only thing he excelled at in school (he did go there!! He can write!!!) is maths, as that is very much needed when you're a sniper.

BTW I think he barely passed school; he hated being there, had no interest in school work and his teachers kept pestering him about his social life. Leave him alone, he doesn't need that (he does).

Most of his focus went to his parents' farm where I think he mostly took care of the animals....or went out to hunt them; which is how he learned to shoot out of a rifle in the first place. (His dad taught him.) He's not exactly an animal guy but he's also not not an animal guy.

It's complicated.

ANYWAYS, I've talked enough about one single video. Let's mention his in game voice lines a bit!

There's a LOT of material there but here's the stuff I want to mention:

He talks to himself a lot. He isn't out there with the others- his job is to be perched up somewhere high and shoot from a distance so he doesn't get spotted. He makes so many jokes that only HE's going to find funny, except "You've got a forehead on ya like a coffee table," which is genuinely the funniest thing he's ever said. Boy voices his thoughts and tries to entertain himself when he's alone- I don't judge him for that. He has to sit there for hours in complete focus (he helps himself via a lot of coffee). I DO judge the things he says, however.

He's violent. (WHAT!?) There's plenty of examples but I would like to mention one adressed to his teammates. One of the "Jeers" commands is "Should've saved a bullet for some of you blokes!" which, hey, what the fuck? That's scary. He got so frustrated he threatened his own team with murder. (It's kinda funny) To me this shows he's bad at controlling his outbursts or that he never learned how to deal with them. (Autism moment!!!)

He literally growls.

There's this line addressed to Spy: "What goes around comes around, you snotty little nance." If you're not aware- "nance" is derogatory Australian slang for a prissy, effeminate gay man. I headcanon Sniper as a homosexual man so it tickles me that he's so insecure about this fact. It's sad, absolutely, but I find humour in this horrible man being a homophobic homosexual. Project your insecurities onto a guy who can read people extremely well, why don't you. He won't do anything about it, I promise :) (Lie)

I was doing my best to not mention SniperSpy but CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIS LINES AIMED AT SPY AND HOW THEY'RE DIRECT RESPONSES TO THINGS SPY SAYS? (plus the highest number of revenge lines he has directed at someone is Spy)

-> = response to:

"Aww, did I get blood on your suit!?" -> "You got blood on my suit."

"I was never on your side either! Wanker!" -> "I never really was on your side."

"Ah, my God, you've been shot. Did you get a look at the handsome rogue who did it?" -> "I'll see you in hell, you handsome rogue."

BY THE WAY, THAT LAST LINE? SPY ONLY SAYS THAT TO HIS COUNTERPART. WHAT, WERE YOU LOOKING AT HIM? WERE YOU WATCHING HIM ALL DAY? WHY DO YOU REMEMBER SO MANY THINGS HE'S SAID? WHY ARE YOU SO FOCUSED ON HIM? ARE YOU OBSESSED WITH HIM? ARE YOU OBSESSED? WHY ARE YOU OBSESSED WITH A LITTLE NANCY BOY? HM?

There is so much more I could mention. I think whatever thing he has going on with Spy is super important to him, but I will hold back for your sake as I can talk about this for hours. You have no clue how many parallels there are, etc.

Anyways, he's in Expiration Date! A little bit! He doesn't say anything. <3 I'm proud of him!!! <3

He literally just stands around ominously in the shadows (and finds RED Spy being made fun of very amusing).

"Hehe."

(I just noticed he took his watch off and put it on his vest. This is an autism moment because I, too, hate having something on me that I don't usually have so I need to balance it out by removing something else; if I have it on me. Either way it's sensory suffering.) (Him being super attached to his hat and glasses is also an autism moment. He is no one without them.)

And then he has that one part in The Bread Fight(tm) where he gets confused by Pauling and Scout pushing the bomb.

"Tails gets trolled" looking ass.

I like watching him fall over.

After he falls here, he takes his kukri out which was... attached? situated? It was behind the strap of his arrow carrier. I think that's cool. I also think he wouldn't be doing that during matches because Spy is very much capable of stealing it/putting it away without Sniper noticing, even if it was literally on his back.

Also, I am a firm believer in "Sniper can only do one thing extremely well and has little to no interest in creative stuff," so I disagree with the idea of him being able to play a saxophone. You could say he was made to do that in school, but this guy is a smoker. I do not believe he can do that. You cannot convince me.

I think that's enough! This doesn't even go past the hypothetical tip of the iceberg, but it's a lot of words. This is the very basic stuff you have to know about how I see this cunt.

Thank you for letting me share some of my insanity.

[synchodai]

I will say that the while it's clear issues were present during the making of hotd s2, it's still a shame that the cregan/jace adventures in the north weren't given any attention. I thought they would capitalize on a stark/targaryen pairing considering how popular each respective side is

Also looking at s2... jace just did so little lol because other than his conversation with his mother towards the end, his presence this season was just so lackluster. I can't even lie, but that house Frey scene felt like a bit of a consolation prize for his lack of initiative everywhere else. In my opinion, I think it's easy to like jace after you read f&b and his death definitely adds to his appeal, but I really enjoyed how his actions (that were said to be done by him ig) have extreme consequences even when you could tell the incentive to do them were either for his family's safety or to prove himself. There's just so much more you could have done with that than just his feelings about being a bastard. These were admirable attempts during war, but they were shortsighted as well, and it's interesting to think about how if he had lived, he could have had the opportunity to grow and change

I think he could have returned after rhaenys dies maybe they use his short temper that we saw in s1 that after hearing about luke's death, he tries to do something stupid, but cregan, feeling sorry for him stops him and he stays there until he has his head on midly straight. They could've had some bond during his stay and jace's character could have been plain about any anger or guilt over luke, being a bastard, etc. We could have done more with cregan (like it's funny as a show only you know nothing about his story), but that can be changed when he comes back in season 4 probably

Idk but the prophecy having so much relevance as you finish s1 and s2 just makes me wish for a story where these highly privileged people with dragons acted for reasons for a cause that THEY believed were valid as they dragged everyone else into it including the smallfolk because tbqh even though they waged war all over, you can still feel this immense sadness over the fate of many of these characters

either way, I understand that much goes into making a TV show so I try to take it in good faith about choices they make, but idk I'm still so disappointed about this season

sorry for the word vomit :)

Yeah, there's a whole camp of the fandom that's disappointed Jace didn't get his flirty side quest. That being said, I do like the scenes that we do get of Jace in the show — even waaaaaaaaay back in season one, I loved how they characterized him.

You're right, anon; he IS shortsighted. Way back in the dinner scene in season one, we see Jace can play a political game of nuance and subtle jabs when he invites Helaena to dance as an insult to Aegon, but we also see him be the one to escalate things to violence by throwing the first punch. He's not above throwing petty insults, but he also throws a tantrum when those insults are returned in kind. He's not the innocent, even-keeled political savant some people think he is.

Even when I read the book, I always imagined Jace as a bit of an asshole in the same way a lot of insecure teenage boys are. Every political player in this overly privileged family is some level of asshole. (Which is also why I disagree with a lot of fans who say he would have made for a perfect king but that's another rant for another time.) And that's what makes them compelling characters.

That's why we needed to see that northern sojourn where Jace learns to somewhat chill. There's an obvious change in demeanor between season one Jace and season two Jace, and you can totally attribute that to him being given the space not to be on the defense all the time. The writers could have gone with the Sara Snow story, the Brokeback Winterfell angle, or something else entirely, and any of it would have worked.

Alas, the show's priorities are really obvious at this point. If it's not about Rhaenyra/Dany being the prophesized chosen one, they're not interested.

[lambiewrites]

got this idea from @xxshadowbabexx hehe ✨

Warning: none, fluff tho

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Would they like me? Part 1

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Captain Price: well yes and no. I’m polite and well mannered but, I am very loud and obnoxious. Not in a whiny, bratty way but in a “I have no thoughts and no singular brain cells” way. Book smart not common sense smart. I have called this man “papaw” since I met him and even though he’s like 40, he’s still papaw. I consistently ask to come to his office because I feel like it’s a comforting little place, minus the cigar smoke. Price has asked about my southern/Appalachian accent more than enough times. I can tell him about mountain life. But he needs a break from me, are you kidding?! I talk way too much and ask stupid questions so, it’s 50-50. But at least I do what I’m told and well mannered.

Gaz: it depends. I really like Gaz and he seems so sweet and kind and polite. I feel like we would get along very well, until I don’t stop talking and he doesn’t know how to shut me up. I get this really strange vibe that he’s a marvel fan and so we can talk about that. I feel like he really likes Spider-Man (all of them) and so we could talk about that. Definitely would call him and say, “did you see that new trailer?” We like each other’s instagram pictures and we wish each other a happy birthday on our socials. I’d bake for him. We’d have sad boy hours together so, yeah I really think so but, I know I’m too loud for him.

Soap: bestie you already know the answer to this one and my answer is 100% yes. We both have big families (everyone headcannons him as having a giant family yeah?) lots of nieces and nephews we could bond over. We’d both try to understand each other thru our thick accents. (Him being Scottish and my southern one-) and it would be a delight! We both ramble and I’d listen to all his fun little stories. I’d follow him around like a lost puppy until he told me to give him space. I’d share a Dr.Pepper with him and cook for him. It would be the best time ever. Bestie for life. We gossip together and doodle together.

Ghost: hmmm, see here’s the thing. I have this feeling that’s like “yeah you’d hate me at first” and we’d just assume we hated each other at first until we have sad boys hours and just sit in absolute painstaking silence for hours. He’d hate me, I know he would because I’d get all “counselor” on him. (Hey I paid lots of money for that degree okay?!) and he wouldn’t be able to get rid of me but, I’d respect his boundaries (obviously) and give him his space (obviously) but he’d find little stupid notes with my handwriting on it being like, “you’re my hero.”, “take it easy”, “have a good day.”, “love you.” (Platonically), “you’re worthy” blah blah blah. He’d hate it so much. He’d throw them away at first but, later on, he’s kinda like “I hate this kid but why is she the way that she is? How can she see something or someone like me and actually like me?!” It gets the gears turning. Would I be a therapist? I would.

Laswell: I follow her around like she’s my own mother. She hates me for it but, it’s good to have another set of eyes. (Mine don’t work) we’re chill. That’s all we do is just chill and relax. It’s hard having so much testosterone around 24/7. We’re out and about. Having mommy-daughter day. Am I crying? I am, how’d you know? We talk about married life. She tells me about her wife, I tell her about my husband. We have dinner at each others house. We show each other our pet pictures.

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A/n: I am very much an extrovert and very loud and bubbly. I am an ENFP and I do have my counseling degree so, combine that into some sort of personality as you will and make your own assumptions ❤️ this was all for fun and feel free to comment or something that would be fun and great! Please be nice though 😭❤️.

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[mira-likes]

Anyway, thoughts now that I’ve finished the season

- really wondering why the emperor chose to reveal the fact that Fan Xian is his son, and do it at this specific time. What does he gain by it? (The novel spoilers could probably tell me, but I’m avoiding all of those.)

- I needed to see everyone’s reactions to the parentage reveal and there were hardly any from the imperial family!! Except from the Princess Royal, whose reaction I cared about a lot less than the Second Prince’s! But he didn’t get to have a proper reaction of his own because his feelings took a backseat to hers. But he had to have so many feelings!!! You can’t tell me that this little gremlin who’s been obsessed with Fan Xian didn’t feel a lot of emotions upon finding out that they’re brothers!

- though I guess for him murder (attempted) is an emotion

- the Crown Prince got even less of a reaction—we see him after the fact. But what did he think!!! I know what he told his mom in that chilling conversation, but what does he actually feel!!

- also the Crown Prince never resembled his father more than during that convo with his mom. My god. She’s telling him her traumatic backstory and his reaction to this is like, wow, yeah this is hella difficult for me politically. I think it’ll be fine though if you beg an apology from the guy you just said you wanted super dead. Oh, was I insensitive? Sorry. Here are some tears. (He’s looking forward to the time when he won’t have to pretend to cry or care anymore.)

- even the First Prince’s reaction would be interesting. This troublesome kid he met is his brother. Does he even care? Then again, he seems to have checked out of the family entirely, minus his affection for the Third Prince. But he looks at the Second Prince and the Crown Prince like he’s internally dreaming about being as far away from them as possible at all times. He’s so “not my zoo, not my monkeys” with them, he doesn’t even care when Fan Xian maybe poisons the Second Prince. What’s another brother to this, especially one embroiled to the neck in political struggles? Maybe he views Fan Xian, the Second Prince and the Crown Prince as enrichment in each other’s enclosure

- the Third Prince so doesn’t get what’s happening, I’m not sure he even actually understands that Fan Xian is his brother. I think he has long been schooled by the First Prince to keep away from all political struggles, and also that knowing as little as possible is a great virtue. But now he’s a duckling who’s following Fan Xian, who’s likely to instil different if also useful lessons

- also Fan Xian may say what he likes about the Fan ancestral hall, but I’m pretty sure the emperor will have Thoughts about it. Because we’re circling back to the original point—the emperor revealed Fan Xian’s identity for a reason. I don’t think Fan Xian slinking away and saying, “hehe, nothing to see here, just an ordinary law-abiding Fan son,” is going to cut it.

- (if not for that, I could’ve seen the emperor being content that his secret kid is running the Imperial Treasury and the Inspection Bureau, and so both these powerful assets effectively are in his descendants’ possession. Others would’ve thought he’d given them away, but mwahaha little do they know he’s kept them in the family. And he could’ve let Fan Xian stay an uncontested Fan if that were his goal. But why drag his identity into the light? What is he hoping to achieve?)

[mqverick]

come undone || ˚୨୧⋆.

“Chill, is it something real?

Or the magic I’m feeding off your fingers”

──────────────────────

You hated the pretentious celebratory gatherings that Bendini, Lambert and Locke threw every time they enrolled a new lawyer into their tightly controlled firm. The poor new guy? You’d heard from mouth to mouth that his name was Mitch McDeere and Nina felt the urge to let all the girls know that he was some hot piece of ass.

You looked around, fiddling with the glass of wine that you held delicately around your fingers as you cautiously took a sip, noticing that once again, your husband was too busy flirting with the secretary newbies that looked innocently at him through their glasses, twirling strands of hair and giggling every now and then at something that you were certain could never be funny enough to be considered as a joke, because your husband did not have the slightest sense of humor in him.

The ticks of the clock across the wall were echoing in your head, your head dizzy from the chatter and fake laughter of the Firm’s members.

You hated every single one of them.

“Fine, you want to leave then be my fucking guest!” you heard a guy yell, probably from the next room and you silently approached the door, peeking carefully through the hole in the lock. There was a man rubbing the sides of his forehead in exhaustion and another woman �� tall with dark ginger hair and brown eyes, which seemed to be equally frustrated.

They were mumbling now, cutting you out of their conversation as you tried to read the man’s lips. They were pretty. Pink and slightly wet, you guessed from the wine, glowing under the dim lighting of the room as he took the bottom one between his teeth and leaned over on the table behind him, dismissing the other woman, who stormed outside swiftly, almost hitting you with the way she so aggressively pushed the door.

You never considered yourself to be the meddling type of person, but the distressed look on the guy’s face had worried you just a tad, plus he looked like he could use some company. With a light grip, you turned the handle and entered the room, closing the door behind you as you looked at him without any emotion. The sound seemed to catch him off guard and he glanced at you as if he’d just opened some sort of mystery portal.

“Hi,” you uttered lowly.

“Hey,” his voice came out more like a hesitant whisper, as if he was scared to talk to you. “Sorry, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Just seemed like you could use someone to talk to after all that yelling,” you replied indifferently, chuckling to yourself when he cursed under his breath at your words.

“Shit — were we being too loud?”

“Not to the others. They’re too busy floating over their own heads to notice. Was that your girlfriend you were arguing with?” you asked curiously.

“Wife. I’m sorry, I don’t really see how that interests you, though.”

“Mm, scared she’s going to come back and see you talking to me, I get it. I’m just here to keep you some company…” you trailed off, waiting for him to reveal his name.

“Mitch. Mitch McDeere.”

Oh, so that was Mitch. He looked precisely how you’d imagined he would; handsome, powerful, a little bit like a polite jerk. His eyes were a truly mesmerizing shade of green that gleamed under the lights, matching the beauty of his lips. His hair was unusually gorgeous as well, falling off on top of his forehead in a non forced way. Suddenly, you realized you couldn’t really blame Nina after all.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. Everyone’s excited that you’re here, says that you’re a groundbreaking deal for the Firm.”

Mitch smirked proudly.

“Yeah? Did you follow me in here?”

You crossed your legs and pretended to think for a second. “Would you like the idea of that?”

“Where’s your husband?”

“Why are you so sure that I have one?”

“For the short period I’ve been in here, I haven’t seen you working anywhere and you’re too pretty to not be taken, so I’m guessing that you’re one of the wives. ‘Cause apparently there’s a no bachelors policy in this firm,” Mitch flirted, taking a few steps closer to you as he fixed a hand through his thick hair, looking deeply in your eyes.

“You’re good at guessing. You should do it for a living.” He snickered at your comment and allowed himself to admire your long, tan legs that were covered by the black stockings you wore.

“You haven’t told me your name yet,” Mitch left the unspoken question hang in the air, looking at you through his long lashes, the smirk still tugging at the corner of his lips.

“I’m sorry, I don’t really see how that interests you,” you mocked him, repeating the same words he did earlier as the heel of your covered foot nudged his ankle playfully. You traced the outline of your lips with the thin glass of wine you were holding, wetting it just enough to see his Adam’s apple bob. You tilted your head flirtatiously and gifted him a small smile, which he mirrored.

“Would you be kind enough to provide me with the information of why you’re not by your husband’s side right now, then?” Mitch tried again, pursing his lips as he tried to contain himself, resisting the urge to screw up everything.

“New chicks. You get bored with the same person everywhere around you, eventually.”

He pretended to be offended and shocked by your statement, placing a hand over his hammering heart as he inaudibly gasped.

“See now, I would never do anything even near that, considering that the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid eyes on gave me a chance in the first place. He sounds like a first class idiot.”

You hummed, impressed by how quickly you’d managed to charm him under your spell. His wife was long forgotten — you’d figured — so, probably, it’d be naive to ask him why she’d abandoned him with such anger and rush only a few moments ago. Nevertheless, you opted to do so, genuinely searching for more information about him and the stability of his marriage.

“What about you? Why did your wife leave?”

Mitch huffed, suddenly brought back into reality. The heaviness of his wedding ring on his finger felt unbearable at that point. “She’s, um… she wanted to leave, I wanted to stay. Go figure, I guess. She’s very strong minded about her decisions and that’s honestly one of the things I admire the most about her, but sometimes she drives me over the edge. It’s as if she prays every night for me to not find a stable work.”

“Oh.”

Their marriage didn’t seem to be in the honeymoon phase you’d imagined it would be. Maybe you could give it a try, push it a little further, test how far he’d go just on that one night. The chances of meeting him again were high — you were the wife of one of the lawyers, after all — you could just pretend to pay visits in order to leave him food, but your real intentions would be associated with Mitch.

How had it even gotten like that? You’d known the man for less than twenty-four hours, yet your mind had been consumed with the mesmerising colour of his glowing eyes and pretty pink lips. You wondered how they’d feel against yours, all soft, swollen and wet. Wondered if you would be able to taste the red wine on his tongue, chase the thin saliva string that would form after you’d pull away just to bite on his lip and pull it between your teeth. You weren’t even tipsy, but that seemed to play no groundbreaking role for the pooling heat that formed in between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together, letting your pinky finger graze the side of his knee.

As a lawyer, it was embarrassing for Mitch to admit to himself that he’d never felt so tongue tied before, so unable to use words in the right order. You got him weak just by being around him, your lingering fragrance stroking his nostrils tenderly as it wrapped him in a chokehold. You smelled unbelievably delicious, your dazzling choice of clothes showing off your body — God, what was he even supposed to do, how was he supposed to feel? It hadn’t even been ten minutes since Abby, his wife, had left. He knew he was making a terrible mistake by keep talking to you, but it wasn’t like he was able to do anything else.

Your inviting, big pupils were pulling him in, giving him no other option but to stare deeply at them, try to figure out more about you, get lost in your beauty. Mitch felt paralysed and useless. He’d barely even realised that he’d been leaning in unintentionally, itching achingly towards your lips.

“Abby,” he spoke out loud as a reminder to himself that his wife was still very much relevant.

“Right,” you dismissed disappointedly and got up from your seat on the desk, fixing your ridden up skirt while he stared, dazed by your movements.

“You’re going?”

“Husband might be looking for me and you’ve got Abby. I’ll see you around, pretty boy.” You left the indirect message linger in the atmosphere, along with the smell of your perfume as Mitch collapsed on the floor, mentally cursing himself. Not long after you left him, he abandoned the party that was more of a gathering, unable to take you off his mind as he drove back to the new home that the Firm had gifted him as a welcome abroad present. He noticed that Abby’s car was gone.

Didn’t even question it.

The living room was dark as he entered, heavy footsteps dragging across the carpet-covered floor. Hearsay, his dog, ran up to him excitedly. Mitch crouched down to pet him, smiling half-heartedly as the dog tickled his earlobe with his tongue. Abby was nowhere to be found.

Great, he thought, just great. She’d probably driven off to her parents as a warning of letting him know that when they fought earlier, she’d been dead serious about her opinion on his newfound job in the Firm. Mitch groaned as he got back up on his feet, throwing his black coat carelessly on the couch and getting out of his asphyxiating shoes. He unfastened the suspenders from the front, letting them fall over his shirt as his trousers now hung loosely around his hips. He also loosened his tie on his way to the bathroom. There was a small mirror over the sink that Mitch was scared to look into. His reflection seemed more like a ghost instead of an actual living person; bloodshot, exhausted eyes with bags under them, hair sticking on his forehead, nose pink from the cold. He looked almost dead.

The blanket weighed more than usual when Mitch got under it, lying alone in the bed, shivering. The worst part was that he didn’t even miss his wife. The only reason why he felt so crushingly lonely was because you couldn’t seem to be anywhere near him and it was killing him. How fucked was he — brain rotted by the short-lived ten minutes you spent with him in his office.

Hearsay jumped on the covers, fluffing the space that Abby usually took on the bed as he let out an exhale, resting his chin on Mitch’s stomach.

“What’s up boy? Feeling alone too?” he asked the dog, without expecting a response. “You know, I met someone unreal tonight. I think my mind’s playing games with me, because there’s just no way someone like her actually exists…” Mitch trailed off, reminiscing about your eyes.

He had a restless night, barely got any sleep at all.

Abby hadn’t contacted him in any way. Avery was driving him insane. And as for you… it’d been the longest eleven hours of his life until he finally caught you strolling down the corridors of the Firm, most likely looking for your husband.

Mitch’s breath was caught in his throat when his eyes locked on you, immediately forgetting all of the work he still had to finish. He hurried to catch you, almost tripping over a plant that stood next to the wall right outside of his office. You were yanked by him in the storage room, almost yelping out loud for help, but he placed his palm over your mouth to prevent you from doing anything stupid that could’ve given him away.

“Fuck’s sake — Mitch?! Is that you?” you whispered-yelled, fixing your hair as you removed his hand from your mouth.

“Hey,” he simply replied, as though he hadn’t just given you the fright of your life. “Thought I’d never see you again or something, I-I had to…”

“Had to what?”

“…Had to talk to you, I guess.”

You tried to hide the satisfied smirk from him, biting down on your bottom lip instead. He looked and sounded absolutely breathless, it was sending you over the edge. Neither of you knew how to continue, what to say next.

“Made up with your wife yet?” you opted for, hoping that no jealousy had surfaced in the question you just so shamelessly dropped.

“No, uh… I think she might want nothing to do with me for a while, I’m sort of used to it, it’s fine honestly. What about you, what brings you here?”

“See, unlike you, I’m an exceptional spouse,” you replied sarcastically, proudly waving a brown paper bag in front of his eyes with a note stuck on it. Mitch grabbed the little yellow piece of paper and read it out loud, all while trying to remain calm around your presence. His eyebrows furrowed at the ‘with love’ note. He balled it and slipped it into his pocket, instantly regretting how he’d just given himself away — easy like that.

“Cooked lunch for the guy who looks at chicks?”

“Hm, fine, I might’ve exaggerated only a little. I actually just brought him a sandwich that expired two days ago. He doesn’t have to know, though, it looks just fine and I doubt that work will allow him the time to check the date.”

Mitch chuckled in amusement, ogling you as the tight space of the room forced the two of you to squeeze closer and closer. He looked like a starving man, it was ridiculous to him how he was brought back into his teenage years, like seeing Abby walking down the halls with her friends for the first time all over again.

“I’ve… I have to finish my papers,” he exclaimed, all flustered and unable to make eye contact with you as he pushed himself through some discarded brooms and walked outside of the closet as if nothing had even happened.

The next time you saw him was shortly afterwards the rushed encounter in the storage room. Two partners from the Firm, Kozinski and Hodge, had died tragically in a car accident, according to Lamar. Your husband had been good friends with them, so you couldn’t miss the funeral, practically being forced to be there.

While the ceremonial speech was going, you searched for Mitch in the crowd, knowing that he’d be there. And you were right; he was standing in the back with who you remembered was the woman that had stormed out the same night you met him — Abby, his wife. She was tightly pressed against his side, one of his arms lazily draped around her waist as she rested her head against his chin. You looked at them zealously, subconsciously leaning more into your husband’s embrace, as if you wanted Mitch to look back at you and endure the same feelings you were going through in that moment.

It didn’t take him long to figure out that you’d been staring holes into his head for at least five minutes. He knew you weren’t fond of the way he held Abby around him, the jealousy in your eyes saying more than words ever could. He brought his lips down on his wife’s bright ginger hair, his eyes fixated upon your own while kissing her.

It turned you on; how much he teased you.

He was fully kissing her square on the mouth though, not anything too deep or hot, just a long-lasting peck, but his gaze was still locked on you. What was he even doing? Wouldn’t Abby notice?

“Babe, I need to go give my condolences to some of the partners, I’ll be right back,” your husband whispered in your ear as he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, abandoning you once again just to give attention to the crying ladies without a man’s arm to rest against. He really thought you were that stupid, didn’t he. You’d stopped beating up yourself for his naivety a long time ago.

Out of the blue, you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You jerked away from it in overdramatic shock, but relaxed when you realised it was just Mitch. Nevertheless, you felt uneasy by the fact that he was meeting you in the middle of a public place, where everybody could see how pink your cheeks had turned just because of the warmth his hand provided on your arm for the short second he touched you. You were about to speak when he put this index finger over his lips, signalling you to not utter the slightest word. His nose was just as reddish as your cheeks had grown to his presence. His hand wrapped around yours, like a ghost touch as you urgently followed him in a place, hiding behind a melancholic dead tree.

“Wanted to see you,” Mitch breathed lowly as he let a visible puff of air hit your face with warmth through the freezing atmosphere around you.

“That excuse is getting old,” you mumbled back.

“What do you want me to say, then?” You didn’t respond, frankly, because you didn’t know if the question he asked you even had an answer. “You look beautiful. Have I told you that already?”

“You have not.”

“Well, you do. It’s a double fucking funeral and all I can think about is how stunning you look amongst all the other dull people that have attended.”

“Is your wife one of them?”

You knew you were pushing it with the sarcastic remarks, but Mitch never seemed to get any defensive whenever Abby slid into the rude parts of your conversations. That alone should’ve been a massive warning for him to run as fast and far away from you as possible — yet he couldn’t.

“I can’t — fuck. I don’t even know what to say whenever you’re around, you take all my Harvard Law courses’ privileges away from me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that… I don’t know.”

Mitch felt fragile, vulnerable. He’d never been more breathless around a woman before, or any person, for that matter. He moved closer, hands shoved into his coat’s large pockets, leaning in. He pulled away before his breath could even hit your face, instantly regretting his actions.

“What are you—” Mitch shut you up, burying his head into your thick hair as he closed his eyes, letting himself breathe into your perfume. His freezing cheek rubbed against yours, eyes fluttering shut as his body pressed flushed over yours, covered by at least three layers of clothes.

“Who the fuck are you, huh?” he murmured against your hair, his hands shyly shaking as he placed them on your hips. You hummed and tugged at his wrists, unsure whether you wanted to remove them from touching you, or press them firmer into your coat, even under it, until you could finally get to feel how his fingertips would be like while grazing the goosebumps he gave you every time he had that look. It wasn’t even like you’d met him for more than two times. You didn’t know anything about him, not even the basics and the same could be said about him.

“Oh, Mitch, come on. Really? At a funeral? You want to fuck me in a fucking funeral, which may I remind you, your wife is also attending?” you teased, not allowing yourself to give away how weak he had you feeling under the slightest touch of his hands on your clothed body.

“You don’t get to do this to me.”

“But you do? You get to bend me over against this very tree at the risk of some old shit from the Firm catching you — or worse, Abby catching you? You have some sort of dirty fantasy, Mitch?”

“Don’t say my name,” he ordered with a hoarse voice, pulling away from you as if you were made out of acid, as if he’d only just realized how much damage you were doing to him. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” you repeated the question and he nodded, shoving his hands back into his pockets. You scoffed with a suggestive chuckle. “You want to know what exactly? My name, how old I am? Because I don’t think that excites you, Mitch. I think you like that you know so little of me, it turns you on, because it’s something you haven’t grown accustomed to. No, Abby… she’s quite predictable, isn’t she? High school sweethearts, I assume. Stole your heart and then a few years later you realize how much of a big mistake you made by marrying her at such an immature age.”

“You don’t know anything about me and my life.”

“But I do. See, I’ve got you figured out already. What, are you going to say to me that I’m wrong? Well, go on, be my guest. You know that I’m right. She doesn’t really let you fuck her at home, does she? Look at you, so young, constantly turned on…” you slowly took a few steps forward, coming dangerously close to his lips as the hot puffs of air both of you breathed under the worsening weather, “…she’s playing no attention to you.”

Mitch didn’t know what was happening, his brain preoccupied with too many things all at once. Before he could say anything to you — deny every accusation about his failing marriage — you were gone with the wind and he was standing there like a complete idiot, until he noticed Abby coming back to look for him with the corner of his eye.

Later that night, she finally felt like doing something spontaneous in bed besides reading her book, but Mitch didn’t even consider participating. Instead, he rolled off to his side, pretending to be asleep as he thought of the way you’d touched and confronted him earlier.

───

He admitted to himself that he was a lost cause only a couple of weeks later. You kept passing by or outside of his office, mostly as an excuse to tease and mess with his head, and he wasn’t having any of it. You’d been on his mind every second of the day, even while studying for the bar exams that were critical for his career. Fail and you can kiss goodbye the BMW, they’d said.

But how could he possibly concentrate every time he caught side of your long legs, delicately dressed in black opaque stockings, your thighs squeezed into short pencil shirts that had his hand itching not to move from his desk. Mitch was a dead man. He was also only twenty-five with a very unsatisfied high sex drive that Abby couldn’t fulfill to take advantage of late at night.

No, instead, he had to live with his sad fantasies.

Fantasies about what he wanted to do to you, how he’d kiss you for the first time, tangle his fingers into your hair, help your hands down his pants, feel your sexy legs that drove him crazy.

He’d found out your name, eventually, but only because he asked poor, unsuspecting Avery about it during lunch one day, in complete secrecy and confidentiality during their trip.

Nevertheless, he’d found out stuff about the Firm on that very vacation, which caused him to spend more nights at his office until late, investigating. Abby was not thrilled, but he couldn’t care less.

Neither did you care at all about your husband, who was seated right in front of you in his office, checking some papers. You’d come again just to play with Mitch’s remaining patience, thinking that you had it in yourself to bare another boring, one-sided conversation with your husband, but you were proven otherwise, seeing as he barely even acknowledged your presence.

“You know this new guy, McDeere?” the question was dropped out of the blue, having you pretending to be indifferent. Your palm was supporting your cheek as you looked around the room, knowing that your husband didn’t even turn to look at you when you asked about another man — especially Mitch. He simply nodded, not caring enough to respond. “What do you think of him? Avery and Lamar seem to be impressed.”

“Don’t know, seems like a tough worker, has got potential to go places, I guess. Haven’t had an opportunity to talk to him, but everyone admires how seriously he’s taken his job. Oh speaking of, Locke wanted me to pass him some papers. Think you can be a dear and stroll by his office?”

So eager to get you out of his face, he wasn’t even hiding it. You snatched the papers out of his hand and left without a world, tugging the black skirt you wore upper around your waist, just so you could see the satisfying panic in Mitch’s face.

“Nina, is Mr. McDeere in his office? I’d like to—”

The words got caught in your throat as you saw Abby walking out, this time calmly and with no sight of anger on her face. You didn’t know what specifically made your stomach turn upside down at the realization that she might’ve come there just to see her working husband, whom see so little got the chance to have at home. That was what married couples did, anyway. You cleared your throat and hesitantly knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

There he was, face buried into paperwork, his coat taken off. He was just in a white shirt and maroon suspenders, that in your opinion, made him look gorgeous, besides them mostly being a clothing item option for much older gentleman. The clicks from your high heels hitting against the marble floor echoed in the small of his office as you closed the door and tried to swallow the fact that it hadn’t even been a minute since you saw Abby leaving. Your eyes unintentionally scanned him from head to toe; was his hair messy, did he breathe normally, face flushed and sweaty?

None of the above. Nevertheless, your lips betrayed your mind as they spoke the question that your logic didn’t dare to even let you think.

“Finally fucked your wife, Mitch?”

He looked up from the rather large binder he had in his hands, eyes fixed on you as if you’d just offended him. “How’s that any of your business?”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly know. Perhaps you told her about the way you approached me at the funeral less than a week ago — or am I mistaken and you’re back in love with her?”

You didn’t know where all the spite and bitterness in your voice were coming from. You wandered back and forth in the room for a second, opting to ignore how intently he was staring at you, only because you knew that it needed just one glance from him to have you weak in the knees. Exactly like the way he looked at you back at the funeral.

“Well, again, not that it’s any of your concern, but she just came by to say to me that she needs to go to her parents, run some tests for her mother. You seem to be awfully upset, though.” Mitch’s tone was cool and sharp, he was annoyed.

“Mm, so you didn’t fuck her then.” The last bit of his observation was spiraling into your brain, yet you decided not to give out any rights and just chose to saw ignorance. The saliva in your mouth was almost dry, making it harder and harder for you to swallow, throat clenching tightly as you gently rubbed it with your index fingers.

“I don’t think I’m in a place to get criticism by someone who hasn’t been fucked either in a long period of time. ‘Cause, I mean, come on, who do you think you’re fooling?”

You felt sweat form in the back of your head, why had it gotten so hot all of sudden? “Locke wants you to have these papers,” you changed the subject, avoiding to talk about your marriage. You handed him the folder and stood in front of him with crossed arms, as if you expected something.

“You can go, now, I’m very busy,” he dismissed.

“Busy fisting yourself under the desk while everyone else thinks you’re so fucking hardworking?” you pushed, voice firm.

“I think your husband needs you.”

“And I think that your wife needs you.”

Mitch closed the binder rather abruptly and loud as he glared right into your soul. “Go back home.”

“To do what? Cook him some nice, warm dinner? Clean the house? Run him a hot bath? Is that what Abby does for you when you return home?”

“Do whatever the fuck you want, just get out of here!” he yelled, instantly regretting it, because of Nina outside. He hoped she wouldn’t ask any questions. Then, he turned back to look at you, his bottom lip trembling slightly from the anger as you looked at him with matching frustration, eyes burning. His hands had formed into fists and he slammed them on his desk as you stormed out of his office. You made him lose control over everything, as it seemed. He wasn’t used to being around such a strong and dominant personality, secretly adored the way you always had a comeback for everything, insulting him, making him feel worthless and unimportant, whereas everyone else kept praising him for all the little things he did. He liked being challenged.

But, as expected, he’d screwed up again.

───

You were in the car with your husband, ready to finally go back home. It’d gotten just ten minutes before midnight and the only three people remaining in the Firm were you, him and Mitch. He’d given Mitch the keys, entrusted him to lock after he was done with work, as all sorts of variations about what Mitch would do alone in such a huge building crossed your mind. The poor man was just working his ass off, yet your twisted brain pictured him jerking off under his desk, just like you’d accused him for only a few moments earlier. Just the thought was enough to get you going, all warm and wet as you eventually managed to get your husband to make out with you for less than five minutes in his office, right after you left Mitch’s office from the fight.

“I need to go back to the building, I think that I left my coat at my office,” your husband spoke, snapping you out of your thoughts as you stopped mid-chewing on your fingernail.

“No need to get up, I’ll go fetch it real quick.”

Real quick was just a saying, you laughed a little in your head, knowing exactly why you’d offered to go back inside. You were sure that Mitch was still there, beating himself up over the bar exam. Your suspicions were right, your eyes caught him biting on the cap of his yellow Bic pen, fingers toying with the thin skeleton of his brown glasses.

Those were a new accessory, you noticed, thighs subconsciously squeezing between your asphyxiating skirt at the sight of him. You thought he looked gorgeous; with or without them. But you’d be lying if you didn’t admit to yourself that you wanted to walk into his office and fuck the anxiety out of his system — glasses stay on.

For a brief moment, you contemplated whether speaking to him was a good idea, but your cold stance prevented you from doing so, heart squeezing uncomfortably in your chest as you walked hurriedly into your husband’s office to get his coat, so many words bubbling up in your throat and dying there the very same moment as your stilettos hit the floor with anger. The image of Mitch was still getting you high as you took a deep inhale, entering the car and hoping you didn’t look as shaken as you felt. Your husband’s ignorance was on your side that night, for once.

At home, he didn’t even care to talk you to. He plopped into your shared bed, sinking under the covers and announcing aloof (and half asleep) that the following day he had to leave early for a business trip that Lambert had planned for him. You sighed, turning the page of your book as the sound echoed into the room — as if it was empty. You couldn’t even say much, didn’t feel curious. You knew that whenever he had to go on one of those so called businesses trips, his only concern was how to enchant the tropical women under his charm, cheat on you repeatedly and then return just to crash in bed all night long, forcing you to a restless slumber because of his inconvenient snoring. You could seize the opportunity to approach Mitch, you thought during reading the seventh chapter. He’d told you that Abby was gone, so that meant no obstacles in the way.

But he was pissed at you.

Except…

Except he really wasn’t. The following day came and since you had no husband to pay a visit to in the Firm, you’d chosen to stay at the comfort of your house, getting warm under the covers while reading your book, watching TV and… thinking about Mitch in the most inappropriate ways.

He’d been worried, disappointed too, but mostly worried, because he’d grown accustomed to you passing by his office every day. You weren’t there that day, though, no sight of you. No sight of your husband either — but he couldn’t really see himself concerned about the last bit. He’d asked both Avery and Nina about your disappearance, hoping that he didn’t come off as too urgent, that they were moronic enough to wave off the way his voice was a tad squeakier than usual. Mitch felt like he’d fucked up big time. Mostly because he blamed his own self for your lack of presence in the Firm; thought that he’d been to direct with you the other night, too strong-worded.

“Fuck,” he cursed breathlessly, shoving the stack of binders off his desk as he fell back into the chair. He should’ve been missing Abby for being away again, he should’ve felt guilty that she had gone to her parents for once more as a warning that his own disinterest in her had caused, but no, instead he was restlessly crashing his soul about a woman that he barely knew, that had such a strong chokehold around him. Mitch felt unsure.

He was also very oblivious, even though that was a rare occurrence. He’d missed the way Nina, his assistant, had a knowing smirk growing in her face as he stupidly asked her for the third time that day if she knew your whereabouts. Of course, you and Nina had a history. She’d been your husband’s secretary for ages before Mitch came, was very fond of the way you treated her and considered you like one of her closest friends.

The house felt just as empty as it felt whenever your husband existed in it. The corridors were cold against your feet as you walked into the bedroom, having just taken a steaming shower. You sat by the end of the bed as you spread a coconut body lotion on your legs, mind preoccupied with a certain lawyer that had recently become the bane of your thoughts. You hummed as the chilly cream made contact with your legs, wondering how Mitch would be looking at you if he was in the room. It was no secret that he appreciated long, tan legs, after all.

The telephone unexpectedly rang in the living room, interrupting your train of dirty scenarios, causing you to jump a little, startled by the sound. You sighed in annoyance and dragged your feet lazily across the room, yawning as you picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Miss. It’s Nina Huff, from Mr. McDeere’s office. I hope I did the right thing and call you,” the older woman spoke from the other line. Nina? Why was Nina calling you in the first place, you wondered, brain not functioning fully.

“Anything happened, Nina?”

“Mr. McDeere has been asking about you. I mean, where you are, of course. I thought that it might tickle your interest to know.”

You took a moment, taken aback by her statement. It wasn’t as though you didn’t know that Mitch would question your sudden absence, but you certainly did not expect him to go around asking others in the Firm about you. The information made your heart melt just a little, eyes softening for a second as you pictured the worry in his eyes; not the one from you not having visited, but the one from being paralysingly terrified of anyone figuring out his feelings.

“Thanks for letting me know, Nina,” you replied kindly to the woman as you removed the phone from your ear with a smile on your face that was wide enough to have your stretched lips hurting.

───

The rain was pouring outside, windows foggy as Mitch found himself buried in paperwork once again. He was determined to become the youngest partner; he’d convinced himself, yet his body stood obstacle to achieving the goal, seeing as every inch and cell of him was covered in anticipation; where were you? Had he hurt you?

Voices from the fight still played non stop inside his head, overanalyzing his tone and choice of words. You were pissed at him, he’d concluded. He was livid at you as well, his mind wanted to believe. No — he didn’t care. He needed a glass of the old, cheap cognac that the Firm offered. He poured the drink into an expensive, patterned glass and brought it to his lips, inhaling the scent of the alcohol before slithering it down his throat. It burnt; matched perfectly with the confusion of his feelings, the incapability of handling such a simple situation by just clearing things out. He thought he was hallucinating when he suddenly noticed you leaning against the doorframe, dressed in all black with your usual signature pencil skirt showing off your legs just the way he’d been thinking about only a few minutes ago.

“I’ve heard that you missed me,” you mumbled seductively, tilting your head with a playful grin spreading against your lips as you scanned his every move and reaction. He seemed intact.

“From who, shall I ask?” he asked, fingers wrapping securely around the glass of cognac he was holding, looking at you with no emotion. He needed to conceal exactly how desperate he’d been to see you all day, hide back the leaps of his beating heart as your appearance started to feel more and more real to him — maybe not a hallucination after all.

“None of your concern.”

“Hm. Either way, your resources have been mistaken. I’ve been particularly busy all day.”

You didn’t believe a thing of the bullshit he gave you, but decided to play along to his game regardless. He wanted a tough time? That was what he’d get, then, you decided. You brought yourself dangerously closer to him, head leaning down as you pretended to smell the alcoholic beverage he was holding, hand wrapping around his own as you wrapped your lips around the base of the glass and took a sip, eyes fixated on his dilated, bright green ones.

“Busy turning your knuckles white by jerking off again? My god, this Abby woman needs to return home and give you some attention already,” you teased, taking notes of how his breath instantly hitched at the mention of his wife’s name. It went beyond you how she had a husband like Mitch at home and didn’t fuck his brains out every passing second of the day. You were even jealous that she got to call him her own, that the stupid ring decorating her finger was a symbol of his love for her and how he’d promised to be with her in sickness and health. You hated promises, always thought they were the most pretentious thing in the world. Out of seven billion people in the planet, you reckoned that maybe a humble 5% could keep a promise. “And how disappointing… Drinking at work, McDeere? It hasn’t even been a month since you got a job here.”

Mitch slammed the glass on his desk, grasping your wrist and firmly squeezing the pads of his fingers around it as he dragged you out of his office without warning and in swift movements.

“I want to show you something,” was the only explanation he gave. You reached the library, one of your personally favourite rooms of the Firm. It was always so dark, even with the lights on, no windows in it as thousands of books that were stacked in the shelves garnished the walls. There was also a huge, long table with small antique lamps right in the middle, the table that Mitch had sat on during his first day at work, feeling like he owned the place. It was his favourite part of the Firm, as well, loved how silent it was. How he could get lost in his thoughts in there.

He gave you a look that you couldn’t really read, something between ‘I regret where this is going already’ and ‘it’s now or never’. Your mind was buzzing, heart clenching into your rib cage as Mitch rushed to the door, twisting the key and locking it. The sound echoed in the entire room, covering the sharp inhale that he took, right before approaching you again, hands unable to find a place to stay steady in.

“What are you doing?” you asked, even though you’d already gotten a blurry idea. Mitch was dragging you by the hand again, and before you knew it, you were pressed against the table, until he quickly let go of you to sit on the chair. You glanced at him without speaking, admiring how he managed to pull off the dark circles under his eyes like some sort of expensive accessory.

“Where were you all day?”

“Missed me?”

“No,” his reply was quick and certain. Almost as though he hadn’t been picturing himself bending you over in every corner of the Firm, placing his hands on your outer thighs and caressing the curves, before gently stripping that fucking skirt that you wore and knew drove him mad. You innocently walked up to him, sitting on top of the table and crossing your legs as you reached for his arm, running your fingers up and down the length of it. Mitch was looking at you like he would burst if you kept touching him, explode into a million pieces, completely disappear.

His eyes fluttered shut when you uncrossed your legs, the skirt riding up on your thighs as you gave him a revealing view of your black lace underwear that he’d been dying to take off since the day he met you. He shook his head and sank it into his hands, not knowing whether he wanted to go on with this. That was mostly why he’d locked the door; because he didn’t trust himself enough to not run out and never deal with the consequences of his actions. But he wanted you, wanted you more than he’d ever wanted any other woman before, and he needed to know if you felt the same way about him as well. It drove him out of control, made the logic in his system vanish into thin air — and Mitch loved every second.

“They don’t have to find out, you know,” you suggested softly, moving just an inch closer. The distance was seemingly still there, torturing the two of you the more you invaded each other’s personal space. Distance that made him afraid of what would happen in case the adrenaline in his veins challenged him just the right amount. They don’t have to find out. A nervous feeling wrecked his stomach, feeling weak the more he looked at you. Mitch wanted you, he wanted every inch of you, every curve, every patch of skin under his fingertips. His heart felt as though it would flip, hammer out of his chest and kill him — and he honestly wished that something similar could happen and get him out of whatever situation he had gotten himself into.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered under his breath.

“Oh, come on, Mitch,” you watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, feeling a familiar warmth pool between your legs. Everything about your movements, the place you’d chosen to sit and even your unsteady breath was giving him a hard, really hard, time to focus, to remember his own name. Fuck it.

There was silence for a moment, allowing the rain from outside to be heard as both of you stood in the middle of an empty, dark room, contemplating. You recrossed your legs and began toying with the end of his maroon, striped tie, not caring how sweaty it made him; the way your thin, long fingers made small circles on top of it suggestively, rubbing the material softly.

Run for your life, Mitch thought, but his mouth spoke before his logic could. “You’ve never left my mind once ever since you talked to me.”

His words had you melting. “Then do something about it.” Run, run, run, run. It’s not too late. His chin started to tilt towards yours, lips parted.

“I want to know what it feels like,” he whispered. Mitch was going to kiss you, and it was so wrong, and so was how badly your wanted him to… But he pulled away abruptly, before you could even realise what was happening. You sighed in frustration, missing the way he stood, paralysed.

“You’re so fucking scared.”

Excuse me? Mitch cocked his head to the side, still dizzy from your magnifying perfume.

“Scared of what?”

“Scared of doing what your heart tells you to do. What your dick tells you to do. You want to kiss me so bad, but you can’t, because you’re scared that miss goody-two-shoes will find out and do what exactly? Divorce you? You’re better off without her, in any case.” Before you could finish every other thing that you wanted to say, you were suddenly thrown back into the table, wrists trapped and pinned over your head as his shaky hands held them down forcefully. There he was.

“I can kiss you any time and any way I want,” he ordered with a hoarse voice, his breath hitting against your plumped mouth as his eyes stared into your glowing ones. You wanted to smile; you’d officially pushed all of his buttons down, you’d made him weak to the core. Mitch was at your complete mercy, had you wanted him.

“Then do it.”

And without a second thought, he did. His stomach pressed against your as he heaved over you, kissing you feverishly. Your hands escaped from his grasp and you locked them around his neck, kissing him back, showing him how it was meant to be. You could feel his thumping heart against your own hammering one, knowing that he enjoyed this just as much as you did, that he’d been thinking about it for as long as you did.

His tongue slid over your teeth, teasing the roof of your mouth as his shaky body mercilessly enhanced the friction between your burning desires. Neither you nor Mitch had ever experienced such a kiss, such an agony and carnal need for each other. So many unspoken feelings and confessions hung in the air as you tried to express them through a simple kiss.

No one will ever know.

FIN.

for my favourite person @honeymvnt 𝜗𝜚

[girlwiththeobsessions]

love sick c. f.

this book is also published on wattpad. same username

you and conrad had a secret relationship two summers ago, when you were 15 and he was 16. you broke up with him because your younger sister, belly had liked him, and you were afraid of hurting her. now, flash forward, you were 17, and you thought you had gotten over him, but maybe you haven’t

iii. bonfire

part 1 part 2 part 4

ME, JEREMIAH, AND STEVEN WALKED INTO THE BACKYARD, where we found belly and conrad at.

belly in the pool, and conrad sitting, his feet in the pool, with a cigarette.

"first bonfire of the summer!" jeremiah cheered.

jeremiah was always like this. the life of the party, he could get everyone in a good mood. one of my favorite traits about him

i rolled my eyes jokingly. "oh my god, shut up. you've been doing this for the past five minutes."

"alright, we're totally taking my car." steven told us, then turned to conrad. "come on, man, we're leaving."

"can i come too?" belly asked.

"uh, no." steven said. "the moms are getting everything set up for you."

"see ya." conrad said to belly, then got up. "let's go, slowpoke."

"have fun with the moms!" steven teased, causing me to hit his arm. "ow!"

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

the bonfire was pretty boring, it was like every other party, one or more guys hitting on me, to which i turn them down, and everyone drinking. i always try not to get too drunk, i get a cup or two.

i turned to conrad and saw him making out with his new girlfriend, nicole. she seemed nice, i talked to her a few times.

all of a sudden though, i turned around to see belly on the ground, in the sand. and steven was right next to her.

"belly?" i asked, confused.

"i thought you hated the red sox." belly crossed her arms at conrad.

oh god belly, don't do this.

"who are you?" nicole asked, politely, but also confused, i don't blame her.

"who are you?" belly shot back, rudely.

"nicole. conrad and i went to the deb ball together last summer."

"it was after you guys left to take steven to look at colleges." conrad added.

she's pissed. i know it.

"i thought you said deb balls are bullshit, and all debs are sheep." belly glared at him.

"i didn't-" conrad stuttered, then scoffed. "you're such a brat."

i know this looked bad, but he wasn't always like this. he could be really sweet to belly, like all the time. but i guess this summer was different.

"well, you're an asshole!" belly almost yelled at him.

"belly!" jeremiah ran up to her with a grin. "you came!"

i decided since her and conrad we're done with their small argument, i'd walk up to her too.

"belly!" i hugged her. "what are you doing here?"

"taylor told me i should come." she moved some hair from her face.

"of course she did." i laughed a little.

"i'm about to take her home." steven told me, and jeremiah.

"what?" jeremiah asked, his mood shifting.

"yeah, we're leaving, are you kidding me?" steven grabbed belly's arm.

"okay, steven, chill out." i took his arm away from belly. "she's fifteen, almost sixteen. i think she's old enough to at least be here."

"come on, go hang out with shayla or something." jeremiah told steven.

"let's go." shayla gave steven a look.

"fine.." he looked at belly. "just stay here, and don't talk to anybody."

"oh my god, go away steven." i lightly shoved him away.

"fuck you!" belly yelled as steven walked away, with both middle fingers.

"wow!" jeremiah laughed. "for one, i'm really happy you're here."

"jeremiah!" a girl called.

"okay, i will be right back."

something was telling me that he wasn't coming back though. belly crossed her arms and i wrapped an arm around her, both of us going to sit down.

"flavia?" a guy walked up to us. "hi, it's me, sextus!"

what kind of name is that?

"what did you say to me?' belly asked in offense.

"no, no, no. sextus. from the seventh grade latin convention."

oh.

the boy sat down next to belly, they seemed to be hitting it off pretty well, which caused me to feel like a third wheel.

"yeah, i'm gonna get up and do.. anything else away from here." i bluntly said and got up to leave them alone, it was getting pretty cold, and i wanted to go home.

i go to a corner by myself and get another drink, watching as everyone had a good time, but me, being tired, and bored.

i looked over at conrad, making out with nicole. i had no idea when that happened, he never mentioned anything about that, but then, also, what do i really know about conrad now?

belly was still talking to cam, steven with shayla, and jeremiah with those girls.

i get my phone from my pocket, and call taylor.

she picked up the phone instantly. "hey, what's up? aren't you still at that bonfire?" she asked.

"it's boring." i told her. "all people are doing is drinking and making out. but belly's talking to a guy here. i don't know his name."

"oh?" she smirked. "she told us this summer would be different."

"yeah, she did."

i look up and hear arguing, i see jumper and conrad shoving each other, nicole trying to stop conrad.

"what's going on?" taylor asked, still on the call.

"conrad's probably gonna get into a fight. he's arguing with this guy and they're shoving each other i guess." i responded, looking at them pushing each other.

"you gonna stop him?" she asked.

"it's not my business." i took another sip of my drink, just wanting to leave.

belly ran up to the two, but got elbowed in the face and fell to the floor, which caused me to roll my eyes and sigh. "taylor, i'll call you back."

i go up to belly and the guy she was talking to helps her up, right after the cops came, and the sirens were loud, giving me a headache.

"cops!" someone yelled.

me, belly, and that boy ran to the car, i really wasn't looking forward to getting in trouble with the police.

jeremiah and conrad were right behind us, jeremiah supporting conrad, helping him into the backseat.

"get in the car." jeremiah ordered. "watch your head. legs, legs."

"yes, i know how to get into a car." conrad sassed.

"belly, let's go, get in." jeremiah told her, as i also got into the backseat.

"cam can give me a ride home." belly softly said, then looked at cam. "right, cam?"

"yes, that's no problem." cam said.

"no, you're not getting in the car with a guy you just met." jeremiah defended.

cam stuck out his hand for jeremiah to shake. "i'm cam! cameron."

"your name is cam cameron?" jeremiah sassed him.

"just cam." cam chuckled. "but we actually, we know each other. seventh grade latin convention. so, like, we're not total strangers."

jeremiah scoffed. "okay, no offense, but no. belly get in the car."

"just get in the car." conrad added in from the backseat.

i wanted to say yes to her going, but i didn't want any problems or a headache from conrad and jeremiah disagreeing with me.

belly talked to cam for a little bit, gave him a quick peck, and got into the car. i was proud.

we started driving off, but a few seconds later, jeremiah stopped the car. "fuck! steven!"

steven.. i forgot about him too. "uh, i'll go with you." belly offered.

"okay." jeremiah looked at me. "watch conrad. i'll be right back." i nodded my head.

i looked out the window, trying to mind my own business. i felt conrad lightly touch my hair, stroking my hair.

i wanted to tell him to stop, that he shouldn't be doing this. "your hair's like a little kids. the way it's always so messy."

i didn't know what to say. what was he doing?

suddenly, snapping me out of my trance, we hear a knock on the window, conrad lets go of my hair.

"you kids been drinking?" a cop asks.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

END OF CHAPTER

[dog-park-dissidents]

I’m a queer anarchist, and your music has really helped me accept myself, so here goes…what advice do you have on loving my radical self? I find myself trying to look respectable and chill to avoid being a stereotype, opting out of actions to please my family, and just internalizing a lot of BS about what it means to be an anarchist in the world. Thank you so much!!

David Graeber, RIP, guy at Occupy Wall Street who coined the slogan "we are the 99%," often said he was a "small-a anarchist" and that anarchism was a thing he did, not an identity. That is probably the healthiest way to engage with anarchism in a modern world where political identities and political language have been turned into sports teams and brands, completely divorced from anything that the words behind them actually mean. US politics at least have turned into "are you a LIBERAL or a CONSERVATIVE" which sort of means something but also means nothing, and its meanings contradict each other to the point of uselessness. They're not real ideological frameworks, after all. Nobody can give you a coherent manifesto of US American "Liberalism" but it's the thing you're supposed to agree with if you don't think gay people should die?? Maybe??? It doesn't even have any connection with the philosophy of classical liberalism, which is closer to stereotypically Republican fiscal politics, EXCEPT for when the ostensible "left wing" liberals actually agree with that shit? Anyway yeah it's a mess and it's no wonder why the younger generation is desperately trying to find an alternative way of labeling themselves so as to signal that we're outside of all that bullshit.

So don't do that. Actually be outside of all that bullshit instead of coming up with an edgier sports team to root for. Not that you're necessarily doing that, but just, remember not to do that.

Focus on the material circumstances you live in: the state and money and laws and all that shit are just things somebody made up one day before you were born. You exist in a world you had no say in constructing. Your goal is to figure out how to survive, and then to thrive, and then to be happy, under these circumstances. And ideally make them better for everyone else.

Now as for opting out of actions to please your family. Sounds like you're stuck in a family situation where you're not free to go where you want and be yourself without scrutiny, and that sucks. From the perspective of an effective anarchist, remember that it's from each according to their ability, and you don't have to feel any guilt about not doing your part to change the world.

But from a queer perspective? That queerness sounds a lot more like what's causing your tension about making yourself look more respectable. And that plays into this feeling you have of being trapped by family, or by capitalism, or whatever forces are making you feel the need to put yourself in a box. Obviously you've woven your queer identity pretty deep with your anarchism, which is good, but that definitely makes the desire to express your anarchist identity a whole lot stronger. It can feel like the same thing as your sexual orientation or gender when it's such a deep part of your worldview.

And that makes for a big contradiction in a world where political labels have turned into deep personal identities at the expense of any coherent intellectualism. Whoops. Everybody else has been forced to pick a vapid red or blue choice and here you are with an extremely deep sense of pink and black. Uh oh.

But that's the great thing about queerness, is to be comfortable existing as a contradiction, as category-defying, as someone that doesn't need to be intellectually consistent because you simply ARE. So be you. Don't feel like you have to debate the chuds in your head to explain your existence.

[askbensolo]

Sorry I haven’t posted much this week. It’s been a liiittle crazy. I gave both Armitage and Poe tours of the apartment this week (Armitage on Monday, Poe yesterday).

I thought I hated them when I was just messaging them. Oh, buddy, I had no idea.

Let’s start with Armitage. Listen: my mother raised me right. I tried to be nice, even though every previous interaction I’d had with him had proven that he was not. I opened the door and put on a smile and said, “Hey!” Bro looks past me and sees my holopad propped up on the dining table, where I’d been watching the livestream of the Senate hearing on arms control on Coruscant. Unfortunately, it was paused right on a close-up of my mom.

This dude cannot be normal. Imagine. You walk into a stranger’s home, see an image of a senator you’re maybe not so fond of, and go “Tch. Senator Organa… I’m convinced she was only voted in out of pity. Everyone loves the Alderaanian princess, but she’s really rather far from qualified.”

What.

I was so pissed I almost couldn’t talk. “What the—wh—why do you think she’s not qualified?! She has years of political experience, and she fought on the ground. She’s done so much volunteer and charity work, and she actually understands the issues she talks about on the floor, and—”

Armitage looked taken aback, but also like he was scrutinizing me. I shut my mouth.

“…What did you say your last name was?” he asked suspiciously, his tone clipped.

‘Cause, see, when I’m first meeting someone, I don’t usually tell them who I am am. I’m just Ben. I like being my own person. And then maybe after they pass the vibe check I can be like, “oh, yeah, I’m Ben Solo, but I’m also just a chill dude, please treat me normal haha.” But, yeah—that’s why Armitage didn’t know who I was.

You know when you’re talking to a stranger and you’re like, “Oh. No. We are not getting into this, because I’m never gonna see you again”? That was me in that moment. I was like, yeah, there’s no way I’m rooming with this snooty bag of tauntaun flatulence for a year.

“Quadinaros,” I said. It was the first name I thought of. I hoped Armitage didn’t know his podracers.

He looked like he wasn’t buying it.

“Well, what’s your last name?” I blurted in a stupid retort. Like a “your mom” kind of thing. Usually, that doesn’t work. Surprisingly, it caught him off guard.

“…Arkanis,” he replied, with less confidence than one would usually declare his own name with.

Whatever.

I showed him the apartment like I promised (and believe me, the comment about my mom was not the last rude thing he said while he was there), but in my head I knew I was picking Poe.

That is…until yesterday, when I had Poe over to tour.

I was actually genuinely excited to greet Poe at the door, because he was my ticket to not rooming with Armitage…but the smile melted right off my face when I beheld the sight before me.

This guy is. De-kriffing-ranged.

You know those, like, baby holders you buckle onto your chest? Well, get this. Homie was wearing one of those…but his BB droid was in it. And those models are hefty. They may be all round, and relatively small compared to your average R2 unit, but they’re still like…I don’t know, the height of your knee? And made of metal, obviously.

My jaw dropped at the sight of this absolute madman. I just stood there staring at him.

“So, uh.” Poe cleared his throat, as if he didn’t have forty pounds of droid buckled to his body. “Who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?”

I snapped out of it. “Sorry. Uh. Here. Come in.”

Once inside, he put his droid down on the floor, and I was reminded that choosing Poe meant also getting a pet, basically. “Weeeeoooooo!” said the BB unit, and started rolling all over the place.

Forty pounds of droid rolled over my foot. “Ow!”

“Sorry!” said Poe. “He’s just a little excitable. Aren’t ya, buddy?”

So I gave them the tour. And I really don’t have the energy to recount that endeavor, so here’s a list of some (just some) of Poe’s demands:

the droid’s charging dock needs to be in our bedroom near the window, even though the window is on my side of the bedroom

we need to put down rubber mats over the carpet so it’s easier for the droid to roll around

we need to ask management to install an accessibility ramp at the doorstep so the droid can roll in and out

it would be great if I could play with the droid when Poe’s not around, since the droid needs daily stimulation

After a while I kind of stopped listening. I thought to myself, Is this real life? Are astromechs not just flight navigation equipment? Is this would-be pilot who doesn’t even own a starship asking me to play with his droid like it’s his son?

I couldn’t have been more relieved to finally show Poe and his droid out the door. And then I ran into my room and flopped on my bed face-down and screamed into the mattress.

If only it wasn’t so late into the year. It’s impossible to find roommates right now. I’m lucky to have two options, as horrible as both options are.

I almost thought about moving back in with Mom and Dad. But…then I thought about my job, and Wednesday nights at the cantina with the guys, and quiet Sunday walks along the lake, and lazy Saturday museum-crawls with my ink pen and paper notebook…compared to how living at home just transforms me back into a sixteen-year-old, and I was like…no. No. I’m not leaving Naboo.

Anyway…so that’s my week. At least Fannie’s coming over tomorrow and I can temporarily forget next year’s gonna be hell.

[takerfoxx]

Well, it's been a full week since Gundam: The Witch From Mercury has ended, and God, I miss it already.

This was a special show to me, and no joke, it might have made my top five anime of all time. There was just something wonderful about getting invested in a series while it was still running and tuning in week by week and having time to really digest what I've seen before the next episode hit. Granted, I marathoned all of season one and only checked it out because of the SLAP, but even so. It was a wild ride.

And not in the least because wow, a canon wlw couple in a massively mainstream franchise like Gundman, one that ends up getting unambiguously married, and it's not treated like a joke, not played for fanservice, and doesn't portray one of them as a horny molester. That is kind of huge and groundbreaking. And yeah, I am ride or die for SuleMio. They're like number two of my favorite anime couples, second only to KyoSaya, and they actually have the advantage of bursting out of the subtext into undeniable TEXT.

What's funny is that I remember being a little put off by their dynamic in season one. Despite all the hype, there was this weird distance between them, one that was very unromantic, to the point where I started to wonder if they even liked each other in that way, or if it was just a political thing. But then they had their WONDERFUL zero gravity argument, where it was revealed that this was actually a deliberate writing choice, and Suletta and Miorine's differences in backgrounds, ways of thinking, toxic upbringings, and difficulties communicating were going to be obstacles that they had to overcome. And watching them struggle with those problems and make multiple mistakes was honestly far more captivating then a cliched lovey-dovey relationship would have ever been. And seeing them finally come together and get their happy ending was well worth the wait.

But even beyond the main couple, this show fucked. The mech fights were all hype, everything was gorgeously animated, all the side characters were all unique and likeable (seriously, I was making an effort to remember everyone's names, even the throwaway characters with barely any lines), the music was OUTSTANDING (Red: Birthmark still gives me chills) and I still hold that Lady Prospera was not only one of the best and most interesting antagonists in a long time, but she is still one hundred percent Grade A Space MILF.

Still would.

Did it have it's problems? Of course it did. I agree that the last few episodes did feel really rushed, with stuff like the Calibarn and the big space laser suddenly showing up and being super important despite never even being mentioned. All the names of the different organizations were hard to keep track of, even though it was really important to the plot, and there was a lot going on that I felt could have stood to have room to breathe. Honestly, I don't know why WFM only got half the usual amount of episodes for a Gundam show, as it could really used a few more.

And yes, I would have loved to have seen the wedding and a kiss. I know, it's Japan, and Gundam doesn't usually have kissing, but after all that build up!

Still, what we got was still wonderful, and I'm glad that for as shaky as it got, it still stuck the landing.

I'm gonna miss this show. I'm really gonna miss it.

[tubbypeddle]

hii, I'd like a matchup for percy jackson and one piece please! (I'm using the previous person's request as a template sorry)

I’m a 5’9 girl, have brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly/coily, brown hair. I have an athletic/rectangle-type body. I usually wear jorts/cargos and graphic tees when I feel masc. I love to wear crop tops and shorts when I feel more feminine.

im bisexual with a preference for men

im usually an extrovert on most days, especially with people I know, but sometimes I'm more introverted. i like to push myself to be a better version of me. i love adventuring, but I also enjoy relaxing a lot. i have a creative and active mind and I talk a lot. i love listening and debating on topics I enjoy.

i dislike people who are rude just to be rude/rude because they think its cool. people who give backhanded comments or gossip. i hate feeling overwhelmed or overstimulated, or just feeling tired in general.

irrational fear of heights lol. but really, im scared of not having a good future, and everything going wrong after college.

my hobbies are, reading, traveling, sports, writing, games, and baking

i love hugs and quality time with people I love, whether that be going out or just chilling at home.

what i prefer in a partner is someone who will be there for me when I struggle and feel overwhelmed. someone willing to be there for comfort, but also someone who isn't afraid of communicating their own feelings.

i think that's it, thank you!

okay so. ignore that this took even longer than it normally would.

because.

if you mention it, I might genuinely crash out

anyway.

(author's note: credits to gif owners, I do not own them. again, I literally cannot apologize enough, I am so sorry these are taking so long.)

It's shocking news. To hear that you're a demigod. The child, of a Greek myth.

Yeah right.

But, you suppose it would explain all the strange things that happened to you in your childhood. Apparently all of those myths that Mr. Brunner told you in school were real.

Because your best friend has goat hooves for feet???

He takes you to Camp Half-Blood, which your (apparently) satyr friend says is the only place safe for demigods like you. Almost everyone is shocked to meet you, especially because you're much older

He takes you to the Hermes cabin, where you'll stay until your Godly parent claims you.

And there, you meet

Travis Stoll

Now it may not be obvious at first, but let me explain.

He's one of the two head counselors for the cabin. Him and his brother personally get you situated into Camp life.

Connor finds you fun and polite enough, but it's Travis who has a crush on you.

It's like at first sight with you.

Connor and Travis have rather different types in women they like, which is why I personally see you with Travis more than Connor.

Connor likes girls who are softer. Maybe a little more "delicate". Girls who giggle at his every joke.

Travis likes his girls a little more athletic, of which there is no shortage of in Camp Half-Blood. He likes girls who are strong. Girl where he doesn't have to worry about them being hurt when he isn't around.

At first though, he doesn't even think his crush will go anywhere. He just likes to admire you from afar.

He's much too busy as a year-round Head counselor. Let alone, the replacement head counselor of a camper gone rogue.

The day his crush on you goes somewhere is when he finds you breaking down in a corner of the Hermes cabin. Your godly parent is just taking forever to claim you. You feel unwanted. Abandoned. Alone.

Now, this is nothing new to Travis. It's like a demigod's rite of passage into Camp Half-Blood.

Doesn't make it any easier to see someone else feeling the same way he did once upon a time.

He comforts you as best he can. He lets you scream and cry, or he lets you throw things around, if that's how you handle things.

And when you're done with your crying, he offers ways to get your mind off of it. Sparring, or drawing with you. Reading whatever textbooks the Big House has.

He even tells you about his own experiences with the gods. His own quests he's been on, big or small. He tells you about how his father claimed him. He isn't afraid of being vulnerable with you, even though all of his instincts are yelling at him to be paranoid.

From there, your friendship becomes something more. You find yourself looking for him whenever either of you have free time.

Since you enjoy active activities just as much as quieter ones, it's rather lucky Travis is the one who likes you. He's the same way.

He doesn't read as much, because even though all the books in Camp Half-Blood are written in Greek, he just doesn't like reading. But he'll listen to you read. He likes listening to you read aloud. Or even if you don't want to do that, he'll probably whittle away at a piece of wood while you draw.

His main love languages are quality time and acts of service after all. This is how he shows you he likes you.

It's very lucky that neither of you enjoy gossip. Travis hates rumors and all that what have you. It's a big reason why he doesn't get along with a lot of the Aphrodite kids.

His favorite dates with you are when you two go out and do something active. Preferably when you two can leave the camp. Not far, probably not even out of Manhattan.

He just wants to take you out to do something fun, that will leave memories that the two of you can cherish for a lifetime.

Honorable mentions!

Frank Zhang

You're actually pretty close to his canon romantic interest type. At least, what I'm imagining, based on your description. He also likes quieter activities, while still enjoying more physical things, too. You two would spend a lot of your time together since you enjoy many similar things. I just felt he'd be too obvious of a choice. (and also, he's from Heroes of Olympus, technically, and I didn't know if that's what you were also looking for.)

What a lovely dive into the world of Percy Jackson!

Now, it's time to move on from the world of gods and demigods, and into the world of pirates and giants.

You're sailing the Big Blue. Whether as a pirate or military, doesn't matter.

Either way, it's

Koby

He meets you by chance. Most likely while he's infiltrating a pirate's ship.

He finds you, probably being held hostage. And he rescues you.

He's enamored by you when you two first meet. He finds himself wanting to keep in touch with you after he's rescued you from the pirates, whether or not you are a pirate yourself.

He's proved before that he doesn't care about where you stand on that front. He just wants to hold your hand.

At first, he tries to get your attention by leaving you gifts. Anonymously, of course.

Training under Garp may have given him confidence in himself, but not confidence in his courting skills.

He leaves you little things like seashells he found along the beaches he came across that reminded him of you. Little flowers he came across while patrolling a town. Chocolates, if you're into those.

(He's getting all of his ideas from romance novels)

It takes him a long time to muster the courage to tell you who's leaving you those gifts.

Should you decide to accept him, I promise you that he's a great boyfriend.

He's attentive, and kind, and gives you everything that you want whenever he's able to. (His love languages are gift giving and quality time)

He makes time in his schedule for you. All of his vacation days are used up just for your dates.

He also enjoys just listening to you talk. He enjoys debating with you, just because he likes hearing your opinions and thoughts, even if sometimes he doesn't agree.

Also, he adores your style. Honestly, what someone wears isn't the first thing that catches his attention about people he's attracted to. It's their determination and their willpower that draws him in.

But he thinks you look cute in everything you choose to wear. Whether it be your crop tops and shorts, or your tanks and cargo jeans.

Really, he's just completely enamored by you.

Out of everyone, Koby is probably the most emotionally competent. At least, in the navy, he is. It's not often that you two have arguments. You understand that he does his best to make time for you, and he's very amenable to understanding you and how you work.

So when you two do get into arguments, Koby makes it a point to never raise his voice, no matter how frustrated he gets. He listens to what you have to say and is careful to change his behavior should he find you correct in what you're saying.

Relationships are a lot of work, but it's nothing he's not willing to do.

Honorable mentions!

Luffy

It's not that I thought he was obvious, although it was an obvious choice to me. It's that I think he might not be able to sit down for too long to have those long kinds of conversations that you seem to love. He's too hyper, he has to be doing something always. (and also he'd eat all your food)

I hope you enjoyed it 🥺

[lucabyte]

hi im the anon who asked for ocs

thank you so much i love them so much

Im so happyy and gwaaghhh love your art and ocs so much and the worldbuilding seems so cool!!!!

erm i have not yet read all the linked things (hehehe soon SOOON) and literally would love to know even more about ALL OF THEM so uhhh *spins the wheel* tabitha

Hiiiiii!!! Cradles this ask in my hands like a baby bird. Thabmk you..... I have been staring at this ask periodically for days because I wanted to do some little explainer charts and do it justice for how kind you've been :')

Anyway!!! Tabitha is the funniest character to ask about first because he's like a fucked up little lodestone for MYMK's various factions.

Tabitha is.... A sleepy little (38 year old) guy. He has never done anything notable in his whole life ever.

... So he's the son of the richest man in the country. Not that he tries to think about that particularly often. His partner also doesn't think much about it since... Well, it doesn't really come up? Neither like their family so neither talk about nor visit them. And Chrome first got endeared to Tabitha after dragging his malnourished ass off the office floor a few dozen times when he'd passed out at work. He's clearly not bougie (and Chrome was relatively middle class anyway).

Eeeeeveryone else in Cliffside though (who's politically aware) is just, so suspicious of his sleepyhead ditzy guy demeanor. There's no way he's really that clueless and dim-witted.

Which... Is true. He's not dim-witted, just spacey and has internalised that all of his knowledge is worth absolutely nothing an undiagnosed autistic man who is finally in a low-stress environment.

So he's generally spending most of his days reading wikipedia, sitting in the sun on an unfinished porch, or doing the bare-minimum work he needs to pretend to still be employed. (He's still a music producer, just one that is very VERY derivative of his peers...)

(pictured: Tabitha bangin out the tunes)

But yeah! He's genuinely a chill dude. But once the plot gets rolling he does become an... Obvious hostage for the more dubious of our main characters. He's more fine with the hostage thing than the requirement he go deal with his family again.

But obviously things go a little awry when trying to use someone as a bargaining chip like this, even if they don't want to defect...

Which is where Tabitha's absoute UNINTENDED TRAIL OF DESOLATION rears its head. Turns out he uh, actually did have social connections before he up and vanished from all their lives? Turns out that um... You exist to other people?

Tabitha, high strung and basically constantly in meltdown mode in his late-teens early-20s did a lot of peacekeeping for his father. Peacekeeping between him, and the people that were Tabitha's childhood peers. It doesn't help that he was a good 5-8 years older than a lot of them, being somewhat of a cool older kid/teen/adult to look up to. And then! When he finally broke he just up and left, never really looking back.

It's hardly his fault, he was under a lot of pressure and was hardly properly socialised for this... But these are the sharks he'll be thrown to should he end up anywhere near his old haunts. Which he is. And will end up being. If he is perhaps brought there by our well meaning protagonists. Oops.

I like Tabitha a lot and he's a particularly deep side-character of mine. Functioning as an obstacle, ally, win condition... And very dangerous 'I'll kill everyone in the room and then myself' for Chrome should something happen to him. So be careful! He's fragile! And don't forget he has thoughts of his own, too...

I have a longer diatribe (Link!) detailing his whole backstory and meta-backstory (he's built out of psychoanalysed anime tropes!) so I wanted to talk about his actual um. Plot role and relationships outside of Chrome a bit! (BECAUSE HIS RELATIONSHIP TO CHROME IS VERY SWEET AND IS MY HOMEGROWN OTP BUT ALSO. THEY ARE CODEPENDENT. BADLY.)

He's fun because he is basically One Of The Villains who fucked off before too much villain shit went down. Which makes him silly as a supporting character. Gotta make sure he doesn't eat too much of the screen-time though.... (He gets enough in Purrgatorio...)

But yeah. Diversity win! This vaguely asexual autistic guy has managed to find a loving partner and a life that doesn't make his head feel like its filled with bees! It's filled with mostly cotton instead now but! He is okay.

Aaaand IMAGE BLAST

... Oh good lord Chrome and Tabitha will be turning 10 years old for real next year also. 11th of November 2015. What a time. Can you believe that I originally made him to be in his like, 20s? Fucked up. He should probably be older than 38 tbf but at this point the timeline is locked in. But god. 10 years. Happy upcoming birthday boys.