#but I need someone to fuck that old man for me

[kaliina-catoe-blog]

No. I hate this take, and I'm sorry to be adding to someone else's post to say it because I genuinely don't want to send hate to OP. But I am so so tired of this HORRIBLE take about Tim. It's completely ridiculous to me to think that Tim Drake is in any way a child who had a normal childhood. "I went to the circus-" Fucking stop. Stop.

Tim Drake, at the ripe old age of TODDLER watched his two heroes fall to their extremely graphic and painful deaths. In front of their child, who we know for sure would have been screaming and crying if not vomiting at the scene. Their child who, earlier that same night, had been happily taking pictures with Tim and treating him so kindly.

Tim would be fucking RUINED just from that alone.

But, adding to that, he also was not giver proper adult supervision for literally almost his entire life before joining the Waynes. By proper, I mean actual real child care. Not school, not just the occasional rotation of nannies he's depicted as having had. Real, actual, care. He was starved for touch and attention and love for years, God knows he wasn't given any therapy after witnessing the death of the Graysons either. Homeboy had so much trauma and was so fucked up as a kid/teen he took to STALKING BATMAN for FUN.

I mean seriously???? Did we read the same character? Tim Drake has every reason to man to become a vigilante. And then? He figures out that Batman and Robin are his neighbors? Specifically that Dick Grayson is Robin? There was never anything that could have stopped Tim from being Robin even if Jason hadn't died.

And then he gets involved and his mom dies and his dad is severely hurt? Yeah. Why do people always insist he should be "normal" or "Okay" or some bullshit? He's a severely mentally ill teenager, and being Robin is one of few things that probably helps him not just go rogue and start fucking murdering people.

Again, do not send hate to OP. And this isn't to say OP is like. A bad fan or some shit. I'm just saying if you're going to talk about a character, you need to know them. And Tim is such an underrated and misunderstood character so it just makes my heart hurt to see people totally not get it.

Go follow OP tho and, give them love to make up for my rant here.

Especially Tim. Barbara at least had the excuse of traumatizing parental death, Tim's backstory? "I went to the circus once when I was three. Also my parents should prbly have gotten a divorce. I attended a lot of boarding schools."

[genderqueerdykes]

I'm so sick of perisex trans people telling me I can't be transmasc as an amab person. I'm fucking intersex and never had a real puberty let alone a really masc one. I grew some tiny tits and almost no beard, just some fluff. People constantly called me young lady all my teenage and young adult years. I was always looking too fem to be seen as a man but also not fem enough to just pass as a woman. But yea sure, no transition required here at all because i was born with a fucking dick. Cause what's in my pants is the only important thing when it comes to me being allowed to use the trans label.

hey, thank you for taking the time to send this! your story deserves to be told

i honestly don't understand why perisex trans people get so worked up about it. it's a very common, just not talked about experience. i get feedback from amab transmasculine people all the time, nobody wants to listen. amab transmasculine people get talked over so hard for the sake of petty internet drama it's so sad. that doesn't need to be happening. who does that benefit?

people really are way too focused on genitals right now. it's disturbing, and you should say it. that's just literally what we're dealing with right now. people are being predatory as hell right now, feeling like they NEED to know A.) the genitals someone currently has and/or B.) the genitals they were born with. i really just don't understand why that's the state of affairs right now. but every time people try to talk about it, it gets shut down. no matter what.

i just don't quite understand why perisex people are getting so defensive on the "behalf" of intersex people right now, it's so rude. it's hurting people, and we didn't ask you to do that. intersex people don't like you more when you hurt people for no reason. also, no one should feel obligated to divulge whether or not they are perisex, intersex, or something else. i don't like that people have to divulge any of this. you are allowed to control how much information you share about yourself on the internet. your safety and privacy is important. i think people feel way too entitled to very personal details about strangers at all times and it's frightening.

harassing you doesn't help me. i'm intersex. how does this help me, or any other intersex person? it just creates a situation where someone else has to step in to help. you're not accomplishing anything. i have no idea why people think hostility within queer spaces is a good thing but it's just so old. i want you to live as yourself, however you want to identify yourself as

of course you're transmasc. that's a very transmasculine experience, it doesn't make any sense to me why it matters to anyone. you are the arbiter of your own lived experience, nobody has any right to tell you how you identify. besides, in my eyes... aren't more transmascs a good thing ? that's what i thought, anyway. like that makes me happy. the more diversity in transmasc spaces, the better. i don't need to know anything about your body, or anyone else's. i don't like that. it's not productive. it's predatory. it's creepy. it's gross. it's invalidating.

thanks for stopping by, i hope things just like. calm the hell down. i just can't entertain that behavior it's damaging and i don't know why anyone is enjoying getting riled up anymore. just let people be. let amab transmasculine people talk

[paperyowl]

This is a weird ask. Feel free to ignore it.

But post breakup Buck staring at Rockon thinking Tommy has a date with this hot silver daddy (he ain't blind) and confronted them cos he's jealous to find out he was wrong. They bought him home for either a threesome (cos David never had one) or maybe just cuddles cos looks at the sad puppy and doting on Buck.

(what buck doesn't know is that Donovan is Tommy's cousin with a hilarious sense of humor who texted him the very next day to collect his man cos he ain't sharing his daddy with his cousin's ex no matter how pretty he is)

It's not weird at all. I love the idea! And I have two vastly different thoughts for this - lets go with this one for now. (I might have changed it a little bit - but I definitely need that threesome happening sometime still.)

+++

Pick up, idiot.

Calling me names doesn't make me want to talk to you more.

Tommy dropped his phone somewhere on the couch, not really bothering to check where it fell. He was not in the mood for his cousin's antics. His week had been so busy that Tommy was aching in more places than he knew he could. Maybe was is getting too old for this job.

Or perhaps he'd been slacking. Not eating well, not sleeping enough. These days, Tommy is usually good at taking care of himself. A hard-learnt habit, but he'd put in the work.

Not that it mattered now when his mind kept circling back to the rather sweet sentiment of someone saying, 'You don't have to do everything by yourself' and 'I'll take care of you'.

It was a certain someone with those impossibly warm baby blues that Tommy was trying very hard not to think about. (And failing miserably.) He deserved this. After all, he'd been the one to implode what they had.

His phone kept buzzing. After the third or fourth time - which frankly was ridiculous Don, what the fuck, get a life - Tommy hunted it down in the cushions and unlocked it.

Only to almost drop it when he saw the last message was a photo of -

"Hi, cuz," Donovan drawled, sounding deeply satisfied with himself. But Tommy wasn't focused on that at all.

"How do you have a photo of Evan? Is he there with you? Why is he with you?"

"Okay, first of all, ouch, I think I'm insulted-"

"Donovan."

Tommy heard his own voice rise and wondered since his fuse had become this short. Then he remembered that Donovan had always had this way of riling him up. That's why they hadn't talked in months. They'd been fighting about something; Tommy couldn't really remember what it had been about.

"Figured that pic would get you to call me," Donovan said. "No 'Hello, my favourite cousin, how are you doing?' It's nice to hear you, too, you know."

"Don't be mean, Rocker," another voice said in the background, one that Tommy didn't know. Or actually, he might - he'd heard it once before, and now he could remember what the fight had been about. But his focus was somewhere else completely.

"Hi. How are you. It's been too long. I miss you - is Evan okay?"

Donovan laughed at the way only one of those sentences ended in a note high enough to count as a question. Tommy hissed his name again, and finally got a 'yeah, yeah, alright.' before the phone was handed off to -

"Hi," Evan said softly. He sounded like he'd been crying. His sniffeling was hard on Tommy. "Your cousin and his partner are nice."

Tommy couldn't help but scoff. "Maybe they're doppelgängers."

There is a momentary pause, and Tommy is almost certain that the rustling he hears is a bit of a grapple for the phone. But it's still Evan on the other end when the noise dies down.

"I wouldn't know about that," Evan said. "You never mentioned them."

Fuck.

"Evan-"

"So we're back to Evan?"

"Bu-"

"Don't," Evan pleaded. "Just. Don't."

"Want me to go and rough him up a little? I still remember where he lives."

Donovan's offer sounded weak, and Tommy could imagine the way he had probably put a hand on Evan's shoulder. Or his back.

Evan didn't exactly laugh, but it was similar enough. The sound still unravelled something in Tommy's chest.

"Can we talk in person?"

"I'd like that," Evan breathed. "Just maybe not tonight?"

"Of course. Do you want me to text-"

"I'll take over from here," Donovan said, and Tommy vaguely heard the muffled noise of the receiver being covered. He checked his watch, aware that whatever conversation happened on their end took less than a minute, but to Tommy, it felt like ages more.

"You free tomorrow? Wanna come over for lunch?" Donovan asked without any lead-up, startling Tommy a little. "I somehow think you have a bit more of a reason to say 'yes' this time."

Tommy huffed a laugh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm free," he said. "Is he alright?"

"Are you going to stop being an idiot?"

"Don."

Donovan sighed. "Listen, I know it's not really my place, but I know you, and I can make an educated guess what happened here."

"I don't like you," Tommy groused.

And like the total bastard that he was, Donovan only laughed and responded, "But you love him."

Like that was a normal thing to say. Tommy spluttered.

"Just be here tomorrow at noon, I'll cook" Donovan completely ignored Tommy's rather childish comment, 'You can cook?' and just went on. "And I'll introduce you to Deacon."

"The ominous partner that you wouldn't tell me more about when I asked?"

That was a rather shortened version of the outright shouting match of a phone call that they'd had all those weeks ago. There had been a lot of implications about very different, and Donovan wouldn't even tell him the name of the man who had him all secretive.

It was easy to read between the lines, and perhaps Tommy had been protective in exactly the wrong way. But he'd never been able to help that when it came to Donovan. The only family member that Tommy cared about.

"He just filed for divorce," Donovan told him. Tommy hissed in sympathy, starting to apologize for the whole fight, but Donovan went on: "And you wouldn't believe the things he can do with his tong-"

"Shut up."

Donovan kept laughing at him, and Tommy felt too exhausted to do something about it. And perhaps a little relieved.  

"Noon, you said?"

He might have only imagined it, but Donovan softened a little after that. But he proved he was still an absolute asshole when he yelled out, 'Hey Evan, say goodnight to your daddy,' and like the absolute cheeky brat he was, Evan did just that. (Tommy almost choked on his own spit, but after hanging up, he felt like he could breathe properly for the first time in months.)

[harrywavycurly]

Worst Mob Boss Ever: Book Club

Part 1: Here

A/N: I wasn’t planning on a part 2 but here we are because I got hit with inspiration, so enjoy✨

CW: Language, mentions of Harry’s “job”, mentions of past violent acts (broken nose), multiple “threats” of violence towards one person.

Tag List: @mema10 @angeldavis777 @outofthisworl-d @howling-wolf97 @umadirectioner @fangirl509east

Summary: Harry joins you for book club and it doesn’t go the way he imagined it would ✨

“They aren’t going to let you in dressed like that.” You warn the tall green eyed man who is standing next to you holding your slippers outside the parked car that’s currently in a driveway of a house he’s never been to before. Harry quirks a brow as he looks down at his suit, not sure why his attire would keep him from being able to enjoy an evening discussing a subpar romance novel. You shake your head and give Mitch a glare as you grab your backpack off the floor of your car. “You better bring it back with a full tank or I’m kicking your ass.” Your brother just rolls his eyes as he watches you sling a strap of your bag over your shoulder.

“Just call me when it’s done.” You just nod and go to close the door. “And uh tell Sydney I said-” You close the door on him before he can finish his sentence making him laugh as you shoot him the bird before turning and facing the house.

“May I ask what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” You ignore Harry as you make your way up the path that leads to the front door of your bestfriend’s house. “Do they have an issue with Gucci or something?” He asks as he follows closely behind you while Mitch begins to back out of the driveway so he can go run the errands he needed to borrow your car for.

“I told you this is a cozy book club meaning you can’t just show up in a suit and honestly no one gives a shit if it’s Gucci or not.” You explain to him as you take the pair of slippers out of his hands that you made him hold for you while you got the rest of your stuff from the car.

“If I take the jacket off and roll up the sleeves it can give cozy vibes.” He offers making you roll your eyes because both of you know that nothing will make his suit look cozy.

“Just don’t embarrass me this-” Harry’s attention moves from you to the front door of the house as it swings open revealing someone he hasn’t seen in months, dressed in a matching pink and white stripped pajama set and white slippers.

“What the actual fuck is Harry Styles doing on my front porch?” You look at Morgan and then over your shoulder to Harry who looks more amused than annoyed or even shocked at her question.

“Good to see you too Morgan.” He greets your bestfriend with a smile making her cross her arms over her chest as she glares at him.

“I must have died and gone to hell because there is no way this is actually happening.” You raise an eyebrow at her as you try to ever remember her ever mentioning knowing Harry but you come up empty as the two of them just stare at one another.

“Uh how do you know him?” You ask making Morgan finally acknowledge you and you could laugh at how her face changes from a scowl to a soft smile as soon as her eyes meet your, but then she lets out an annoyed huff as she looks away from you so she can go back to glaring at the man behind you.

“That’s my cousin’s old boss. I met him at a holiday party a year or so ago.” Harry can’t help but feel his jaw clench as she motions at him with one of her red acrylic nails, not liking the tone she’s using at all. “He’s an asshole and-”

“I’m an asshole? Your cousin was the asshole or did you forget the reason why he no longer works for me?”

“So he borrowed some money-”

“I didn’t know stealing was the same thing as borrowing?”

“He paid it back.”

“Yeah after I broke his nose and threatened to beak his kneecaps with a crowbar.” Your eyes go wide as Harry tells Morgan what he did to her cousin as if it’s the most casual conversation he’s had all day. But to your surprise all Morgan does is place her hands on her hips and narrow her eyes at him while Harry just stands there unbothered.

“Oh please as if you ever do anything yourself you had Frank do it for you.” She snaps at him making Harry let out a chuckle as he shakes his head in disbelief that of all the people in this city you could be friends with you somehow manage to pick someone who can’t stand him and all because he fired her cousin for stealing from him. And if Harry’s being honest she’s lucky her cousin is even still breathing but he’d never voice that out loud to her since she’s already looking at him like she wants to strangle him with her barehands.

“Frank? You think I sent Frank to deal with your idiot cousin? I wouldn’t trust him with my coffee order.” You feel like you’ve been standing on Morgan’s front porch for an hour when in reality it’s only been a few minutes but you decide in this moment you’ve heard enough and just want to go inside and change out of your work uniform.

“I’m going to go change while the two of you finish catching up.” Morgan looks at you and smiles as she moves to the side giving you enough space to walk through her front door, leaving her alone with Harry on the porch.

“Listen Morgan I’m not here to talk about your cousin or work I’m just here for book club.” Harry’s voice is calm and controlled, it doesn’t hold a single bit of the annoyance he has bubbling inside of him right now as he watches you enter the house and turn down a hallway so you’re no longer in his line of sight. Doing his best to hide the fact he doesn’t enjoy not being able to see you, he is willing to say whatever he needs in order to get inside the house.

“Fine but you’re not stepping a foot inside my house until you explain why you’re here with my bestfriend who doesn’t have anything to do with you or your business.” Harry can tell by her voice that she’s serious, she would make him sit outside on the porch all night until he gave her the details she’s looking for so he just nods before running a hand through his hair.

“I got into her car thinking it was mine and now here we are.” Morgan gives him a look that lets him know she isn’t buying a single word he’s saying.

“You got into her car thinking it was yours? Why because it’s a big black suv?” Morgan furrows her brows as Harry lets out an annoyed sigh and just shrugs in response making her roll her eyes. “God you’re such a narcissist.”

“So I’ve been told.” He says with a smirk as he remembers a very similar conversation he had with you earlier.

“You can’t come in dressed like that.” Morgan states as she eyes his suit and Harry for a moment considers just using your phone so he can call Eric to come get him but he really wants to see what this book club is all about since you were willing to risk your life by threatening his head of security just to get to it on time.

“Sorry I missed the memo that went over the dress code but this is all I have.” He explains making Morgan rub her lips together as she contemplates several options in her head, and when she finally gives Harry a smirk he knows he’s not going to like what she’s about to tell him.

“Fine just lose the jacket and you have to wear slippers.”

“I don’t wear slippers.”

“Then you don’t come inside.” Morgan watches Harry run a hand over his face as he lets out a sigh of defeat before looking at her and motioning towards the front door.

“Fine lead the way then.” She smiles and turns around to lead him into the house. “Just please don’t make them fuzzy.”

You walk out of Morgan’s bedroom finally feeling a bit more relaxed now that you’re out of your work clothes and in your gray sweat-shorts and pink t shirt, you smile as you walk down the hall and can hear the sound of Sydney’s voice. When you turn to go into the living room you feel like you just entered a weird alternate universe because Harry is sitting on the couch with his sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows, his suit jacket hung over the armrest of the couch, a pair of red and white fuzzy slippers with hearts all over them on his feet that are propped up on Morgan’s ottoman and a glass of wine in his hand. You look over to his left and see Sydney sitting next to him with her back against the armrest so she’s facing him with her wine glass clutched in both hand as her eyes go wide with a wild kind of excitement at something he just said.

“Wait you like-you can do that?” Sydney asks making Harry just nod in response as he takes a sip of his wine while you walk over to the loveseat across from the couch.

“He can do what?” You ask making Harry’s eyes travel across the room until they find yours and you ignore the small flutter your heart does when he gives you a smile as if he hasn’t seen you in ages when it’s just been ten minutes.

“He can beat up Johnny for me.” Sydney answers with an excitement you haven’t heard from her ever since her ex, Johnny cheated on her a few weeks ago.

“I’m surprised you haven’t done it yourself.” He’s looking at you as he speaks and you roll your eyes as you lean over to grab the bottle of wine off the coffee table so you can pour yourself some but Harry is quicker than you so he beats you to it. Placing his own glass down on the coffee table, he picks up the bottle of white wine and an empty glass. “You’re quite scary when you’re annoyed so I can’t image how terrifying you could be to someone who really pissed you off.” He adds as he holds the full glass of wine out for you to take, an annoying grin on his face.

“She tried but he-” Sydney begins but then pauses to take a sip of wine.

“He what?” All the lightheartedness leaves Harry’s voice as he turns to look at Sydney and she swallows the sip of wine in her mouth before she turns to look at you which makes Harry follow her gaze, his green eyes a shade darker as they stare into yours. You want to laugh at how serious he is but you don’t, you oddly find it kind of nice knowing he seems upset at the mere idea of someone doing anything to you.

“He called the cops on me.” You answer for Sydney with a chuckle as you lean back into the cushions of the loveseat, doing your best to get comfortable.

“That’s because Johnny is a little bitch who was scared shitless the moment he saw you pull up into his driveway with that baseball bat.” You roll your eyes as Morgan explains what happened as she walks into the living room and places a tray of snacks down on the coffee table. Harry can’t fight the small smile that works its way onto his face as he imagines you in a fit of rage pulling up to someone’s house holding a baseball bat.

“Well he sure didn’t seem scared when I used it to smash his windshield. Seemed more angry than anything.” Harry takes a moment to look around the living room, as far as book clubs go he feels like it’s on the smaller side since it’s only the three of you and then him but he also for some reason feels the same way he does when he enters a meeting that’s just with his top men. So he can’t even stop himself before he says what comes to his mind next.

“Are you lot in a gang? Is that what this book club is actually for? Just a cover up for your meetings to discus who needs to be met with a baseball bat in their driveway?” All three of you look at him with playful glares making him just quirk a brow when Morgan takes a sip of her wine and looks away from him first so she can go into the kitchen to grab some napkins.

“Do you not have friends Harry? Because not every group of friends that are willing to go to jail for each other is a gang.” Sydney asks as she reaches over and gently places a hand on Harry’s knee and you have to rub your lips together to keep the laugh inside when you watch her give his knee a nice reassuring pat. “If you don’t that’s fine you’re like a big deal so-”

“Don’t feed his ego please he’s actually the worst mob boss ever he doesn’t even have a phone.”

“You don’t have a phone?”

“I have a phone I just don’t have it on me right now.”

“What? So how do your uhm people know where you’re at?”

“I had to-”

“He called his security guy on my phone.”

“Oh is he cute? This security guy?”

“He had a nice phone voice.” You answer with a shrug before taking a sip of your wine while Harry has to bite his tongue to keep him from saying the worst things about Eric just to keep your friend away from him and for you to want to take back the thing about his nice phone voice. “His name is Eric.”

“Eric? Oh I know Eric. He’s your type Syd.” Morgan states as she places the napkins down and finally takes her spot next to you with her wine glass, she gives Sydney a playful wink making her let out a laugh.

“You can do better than Eric he’s not the best when it comes to dating someone.”

“I didn’t say I was tying to date him Harry.” Sydney mumbles as she takes her hand off his knee making you lean your head back and laugh when you see Harry close his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose with his free hand as the realization of what Sydney actually means hits him.

“Well I have no comment on how he performs in that department.” He answers as he brings his wine glass up to his lips to take a rather large sip.

“But seriously you’d like-like really have someone beat Johnny up for me?” Sydney asks shyly as if she doesn’t fully believe that Harry has the connections or the time to deal with her ex boyfriend who he doesn’t even know. You look at Morgan because she’s the only other person in the room that knows what Harry does for a living and the type of people he’s associated with, she’s already looking at you and playfully wiggles her eyebrows as she sips her wine.

“Syd he could have Johnny more than just beat up.” Morgan says as she looks away from you and over to the girl who is now looking at Harry with a suspicious expression on her face. “He could have him swimming with the fishes if you know what I mean.” Sydney’s eyes go wide while Harry as usual looks completely unbothered as he turns his head so he can look at the girl who now seems a bit concerned with how close she’s sitting to him now that she knows what he’s capable of.

“The term is swimming with the fishes.” Harry corrects with a gentle smile while still looking at Sydney, Morgan just lets out a huff as she leans over to grab an apple slice from the snack tray on the coffee table. “And while yes I could make that happen I don’t really think it would be necessary in this situation.” You watch in amusement as Sydney stares at Harry with a hand clutching her chest and the other holding onto her wine glass for dear life.

“Okay well what would you do to him then?” You ask out of pure curiosity because you want to know what sort of punishment he thinks is fitting for Johnny, hoping it’s nothing too disturbing since he’s already mentioned to you how he has cars blown up with people he doesn’t like or sees as a threat as if it’s no big deal.

“Well in situations like these death is too nice so you simply make them wish for death just so the torture can end.” Harry doesn’t want to come off too harsh or make any of the girls in the room fear him, especially you so he does his best to make his tone soft and gentle even if the words are far from either of those things. But given how Morgan’s mouth is slightly hung open and Sydney’s eyebrows are almost raised so high they are hitting her hairline he would say his method didn’t work as well as he intended.

“Holy shit.”

“Did you-you say torture?”

“Jesus Harry you can’t talk about torturing someone so badly they beg for death while wearing fuzzy slippers at a spicy book club meeting.” Your words have Harry looking down at his feet and immediately rolling his eyes at the horrendous slippers that Morgan forced him to wear just so he could gain entry to her house.

“I’m sorry I just-”

“You’d be willing to do that? For me?” Everyone’s heads turn to look at Sydney, Harry feels an anger beginning to burn inside of him as Sydney looks at him with eyes that tell him she’s not used to people being so willing to do things for her let alone have someone hurt on her behalf and he knows it’s because no one has treated her the way she deserves.

“It’s the least I could do for you love.” He answers making a small blush creep its way onto her cheeks. “And if I’m being honest I wouldn’t really be doing it for you. I’d be doing it for myself because he just sounds like someone who needs to be taught a lesson or two on how to treat someone.” If there’s one thing Harry truly hates it’s men who don’t know how to treat their partners and this Johnny fellow doesn’t even know he just earned himself a spot on Harry’s shit list.

“So you’d handle it personally then?” Morgan asks with a quirked brow because she knows Harry almost never gets his hands dirty anymore unless he’s given no other choice.

“Yes I’d do it myself just like I did with your cousin.” Harry says as he glances at Morgan and gives her a look that tells her he’s not lying, he really is the one who broke her cousin’s nose.

“As long as you’re the one doing it I’m fine with it.” Sydney states nonchalantly as she leans over to grab a cracker off the snack tray.

“I do have one condition though.” He says with a smug like smile on his face as his attention shifts from Morgan over to you.

“A condition? You don’t get to negotiate something you offered to do in the first place Harry. How are you an actual mob boss? You really are the worst.” You argue as you glare at him making that annoying grin spread across his face, the one that makes his dimple appear and the butterflies to go off in your tummy.

“You have to agree to go to dinner with me next week.” You feel your eyes go wide as your mouth drops open while Morgan and Sydney stare at Harry with equally just as shocked expressions.

“Oh fuck off Harry I’ve already been held hostage by you in my own car and now you want to trap me into going to dinner with you just so you’ll beat up Johnny? You’ve lost your mind.”

“I haven’t lost anything. I’m just going off that old saying of if you’re good at something don’t do it for free.”

“We aren’t offering up our friend as payment for you to almost kill someone Harry. Don’t be fucking gross.” Morgan says in your defense but Harry doesn’t pay her any attention, his eyes still set on yours as he waits for your answer.

“Yeah Harry you’re acting like one of those poorly written romance novel mafia bosses who kidnap the girl they like and force them into a weird marriage and we are very much anti forced anything around here.” Sydney adds making both you and Morgan giggle as her worlds become a bit jumbled towards the end due to the fact she tries to take a sip of wine while still speaking.

“I’m not forcing her into anything she can say no and that would be fine.” You bite your bottom lip as Harry stares at you.

You let out a long sigh before you take a sip of wine to help calm your nerves as you contemplate your options, you know Harry is involved in a world you’ve only really read about or watched movies depicting the violence that takes place in it but you also know there’s a subtle softness to him. Because even now the man is at a book club drinking shitty wine and wearing slippers all so he could spend the rest of the evening with you. Once you’ve made your choice you lean over and place your glass on the table before crossing your arms over your chest as you stare back at him.

“I’m not going to dinner with you until after you do whatever it is you’re going to do to Johnny.” You counter his original offer making him narrow his eyes at you a bit clearly not expecting you to be try to negotiate with him.

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it? You’re not going to argue with me about it or anything?”

“Nope.” His answer makes you raise an eyebrow because it’s a bit unnerving how quickly he accepted your offer. “If you try to flake out on me I know where to find you.” He adds as a gentle reminder that he knows where you work and what kind of car you drive. While Harry is busy looking at you he doesn’t notice Sydney’s hand coming up to smack him upside the head causing his eyes to narrow as he turns and gives her a harsh glare but she doesn’t even seem the least bit bothered by it as she’s also glaring at him.

“You can’t threaten her while also asking her out on a date Harry god you are the fucking worst at this.” You have to bring a hand up to cover your mouth so your laughter doesn’t spread throughout the room as Sydney lets Harry have it. “Like seriously learn some manners.” She adds with a huff as she gets comfortable on her side of the couch.

“See what I mean? Worst mob boss ever.” You say with a laugh making Harry roll his eyes as he turns his attention back to you.

“Are we going to actually discuss the book or just sit here and give Harry a list of people we need him to hurt for us?” Morgan asks as she motions to the book in question that’s sitting next to the snack tray on the coffee table.

“For every name you add to the list it’s another dinner she has to go to with me.” He explains knowing it will make you all huffy and annoyed, something he’s coming to enjoy even though he knows he shouldn’t but he can’t help that he likes the way your eyes get this little glimmer in them when you look at him while frustrated with something he’s said or done.

“So the book it is then.” You answer for everyone making Harry chuckle as you reach for your copy that has your bookmark on the page you left off at, deciding for the rest of the girls that one dinner with Harry is all you’re willing to do at this point. So when they both just nod and grab their own books you let out a small sigh of relief because you know deep down that the more time you spend with Harry the more you’ll probably end up enjoying it and you can’t have that because who wants to enjoy the company of the worst mob boss ever? Certainly not you.

[themultifanshipper]

Seeing your requests open seats makes me happy 🤗

Id like to put another request in whenever you can or want to! Reader x the Spaniards (Alsonso & Sainz and honorary Franco- I know he’s not Spanish) with 🟣 and somehow semi public? Honestly whatever your magic can whip up is good too

Five times Carlos was jealous of Franco. 

And one time Fernando helped him do something about it. 

Warnings: smut, anal (mxm), Jealousy, mention of alcohol, idk if yachts count as semi-public? Fernando is manipulative, he is also bisexual, kinda dom nando, sub franco,  Carlos being pathetic and Nando being a good AND BAD friend, franco gets railed, idk what else to say

Prompt list

● The first time Carlos noticed you with Franco he almost threw up in his mouth. 

Franco and you were walking into the paddock, hand in hand and looking all happy together. 

For the entire day, when Franco wasn't busy, his arm was around you. 

Or his hand was on your back, or your neck, or your hair. He apparently felt the need to touch you at all fucking times. 

Carlos wasn't entirely sure why your relationship with the Argentine made him so angry. 

He wasn't into you like that, you were close friends, and he had nothing against Franco, so his own anger confused the hell out of him. 

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Carlos had been building up the courage to finally make a move on you. 

● The second time, Carlos felt his blood boil when he caught the two of you making out behind one of the garages. 

He'd almost punched the younger man in his stupid boyish face. 

How could you let Franco rope you into doing something so stupid and reckless? 

He was a bad influence on you, and Carlos told you so but you laughed him off. 

You said you and Franco weren't serious, that you were just messing around. 

That almost made it worse in Carlos' opinion. You deserved better than that, you deserved someone more mature. 

Someone who knew to please a woman. 

Someone more like him. 

That thought made him shiver.  

● The third time he finally thought he was getting somewhere. 

 In between race weekends you chatted often, and when you had two week breaks, the opportunities to see each other multiplied.  

You could feel how distant he'd been lately, and you wanted to remedy that by inviting him to your yacht party. 

It wasn't a huge thing, just a few drivers (the ones that could make it) and a few friends. 

But the first thing he saw when he got there was Franco, with his arms wrapped around you as you danced. 

He'd been stupid to think Franco wouldn't be there, but it still pissed him off to no end every time you kissed him. 

And that little number you were wearing wasn't helping either. 

It was somewhere between lace and mesh, covering and hugging your bikini clad figure underneath. 

You'd spent the afternoon swimming with Franco, it transpired. 

The only time he smiled was when you finally gave him some attention, sitting in his lap, obviously slightly tipsy, and told him how much you enjoyed being his teammate. 

Then you pecked him on the cheek, which made his heart beat out of his chest, before going straight back to Franco. 

He scowled the rest of the night, hoping everyone could forgive him for his inexplicable sour mood. 

But there was one other person there that didn't need an explanation. He knew Carlos well enough by now to know exactly why he frowned more than he smiled nowadays. 

● “Jealous? Of him? You have got to be joking” 

Fernando levelled Carlos with a look that clearly said ‘Cut the bullshit mate’ 

They were both standing around, watching the mechanics rushing around on media day, trying to get everything ready for the next day. 

“You have been teammates for two years and you never made a move, of course she has someone else now” 

The old man was right. Damn him. 

Carlos had been attracted to you from the moment you joined the team, but had been hesitant to potentially ruin the great dynamic you had going with him. 

“I know, and it's not like I love her, I just think I could satisfy her better than that kid” 

Fernando sighed. They watched you suddenly emerge from somewhere, pursued by Franco. 

From their vantage point they couldn't hear anything, but it looked like you were having an argument. 

“Ah? Trouble in paradise?” Fernando smirked. 

Carlos hummed thoughtfully. 

He wasn't about to jump in while you and Franco were having problems, he wasn't a dog. 

But he was insanely curious about what you could possibly be angry about. 

Maybe Franco had caught feelings? Maybe he was bad at sex? Maybe you were ending the arrangement because you liked somebody else? 

A man could dream, anyway. 

He won the race on Sunday, and when you'd jumped out of your car and into his arms he felt the weight in his stomach lift, just a bit. 

But you couldn't celebrate his win with him because you had an early flight. 

The more Carlos thought about it, the more he wanted to strangle himself for not fucking you sooner.  

● By the next race, Fernando was officially sick of Carlos' behaviour. 

He'd slumped down on his driver’s room couch and ranted about how he was sure you were in love with Franco because you'd stopped paying attention to him. 

“Listen, mate” He huffed “Do you want me to talk to her? Do you want me to talk to Franco?” 

Carlos scoffed at the idea. 

“No that would make it worse. They would know you came from me” 

Fernando rolled his eyes and made his way to the door. 

“I can be very inconspicuous…” 

… 

That night, Fernando followed you home. 

Not in a creepy way, he just took an uber with you to your hotel, so that he could start a conversation and hopefully dig into some gossip. 

Or at least that's what he told you. 

His real intentions were to get you to talk about Franco, and Carlos. 

And then if he got the answers he suspected he was going to get… maybe a little something extra. 

This week, your hotel room had a minibar, which you and Fernando made full usage of during the evening. 

“So what is the deal with you and Franco? If you are dating it is not very discreet… I am surprised social media hasn't picked up on it yet” 

You laughed putting your 3rd shot of whatever concoction Fernando had created down on the smooth marble of the bar. 

“No, no! We're just having fun!” you chirped “You know, like young people do” 

You winked and Fernando raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Have more respect for your elders!” he chuckled. “But if you aren't serious, why were you fighting in the paddock the other day?” 

“Nando!” you gasped “You little gossip monger!” 

He raised his hands in surrender. “Just curious” 

“Well… if you must know, we were arguing about Carlos” 

Beautiful, he thought, he didn't even need to bring up his fellow spaniard, you were doing it for him. 

“Franco thinks Carlos hates him. Because he has this idea in his head that Carlos wants to fuck me, which is absurd, and that I want to fuck Carlos!”  

Fernando gasped. 

“No!... but… do you?” 

You seemed to hesitate at that. “Well, I wouldn't say no, he is fit. But I doubt he'd be interested” 

He chuckled. “Really? I assumed you were more interested in younger men because of Franco” 

You smirked cheekily at him. 

“Not really, I can go for slightly older men. In fact I haven't spoken to Franco in a few days now…”  

Your hand landed on Fernando's knee, and he gulped. 

"I think I need a change of pace…” 

His eyes darkened and he leaned against the counter. 

“How much older can you go?” 

“I don't know…” you purred, hand slowly making its way up his tense thigh “twenty years? Give or take” 

The look in his eyes was predatory as he glanced at your lips. 

“Good.” He rumbled “Then let me show you the benefit of experience”... 

By the time he got on his plane the next day, he had a plan. El plan to end all plans. He just wasn't sure how to set it in motion. 

● The perfect opportunity landed in his lap a week later, when you sent him a text. 

“Nanooo, how would you feel about an afternoon on my yacht? Maybe have a bit of fun ;)” 

He grinned, typing out a response immediately. 

“I am always down for some fun ;) Can I bring someone to join us?” 

You were taken aback by his request, but you agreed without much convincing, even though he refused to tell you who he was bringing because it was a surprise. 

You sure were excited though, because there was only one logical choice. Carlos.  

The reason (you suspected) Fernando wanted to talk to you that night before… well… 

The memory made your heart beat a little faster every time it crept into your mind. 

How own earth were you going to handle two of them?

When the day came, you picked out your nicest bikini and sprawled out on the deck while you waited. 

When you heard a voice call out your name, you bolted upright. 

That wasn't Fernando's voice. It was… 

“Franco?”  

He grinned, making his way over to you. 

“Ooh you look nice today!” he embraced you warmly, but you just sat there in shock. 

“You were who Fernando wanted to bring?” you asked incredulously. 

“Yes? Are you disappointed?” he seemed a bit hurt at your lack of enthusiasm. 

“No of course not! I just wasn't expecting it to be you. I’m surprised you’d want to… you know, with Fernando.” 

You giggled and he kissed your forehead affectionately. 

“I am up for anything, you know that” 

Fair enough. 

“Why don't I get us a couple of drinks while we wait for him?” he offered kindly, he knew your yacht in and out by now and you accepted. 

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you watched him jog down the steps. 

You weren't sure whether you were happy or disappointed.  

Franco and Fernando seemed like quite duo, but you'd kind of build yourself up to the idea of finally getting to fuck Carlos and… 

Well you didn't really have time to finish that thought, because suddenly Carlos was there, walking across the deck, having just come aboard. 

He quickly noticed your terrified expression and stopped in his tracks. 

“I am guessing Fernando didn't tell you I was coming…” 

Your eyes darted to the steps, up which Franco would be coming any second now. 

“No he did not” 

“Are you… are you not happy to see me?” he looked heart broken and you snapped out of your stupor to go and give him a hug. 

“Of course I am… it's just-“ 

“Listen, I told Fernando if you are not comfortable with this, we do not have to do anything. He told me you would be…” 

He trailed off, eyes fixed on Franco who was standing back on the deck with two glasses in his hands, and looking slightly confused. 

Carlos scoffed “Why is he here? I thought it was going to be the three of us?” 

Franco’s eyes narrowed at the older man. “I could ask the same, I was invited by Fernando” 

Carlos looked at you questioningly, and you looked at Franco, who looked a Carlos, and it carried on like that for several seconds, a festival of wide eyes traveling back and forth. 

“I'm gonna call him” you finally broke the silence and grabbed your phone. 

When he picked up, his smiling face took up the entire screen and he was wearing the most ostentatious sunglasses you'd ever seen. 

“Fernando what the fuck did you do?” 

He just laughed and set his phone down so that you could see he was in a car. 

“Ah, I take it the other two are already there. I’m sorry nena, I will be a few minutes late, don't let them kill each other before I get there” 

He hung up, and you just stared blankly at the screen for a minute. 

“So… what do we think his plan was?” Carlos asked warily. 

You thought back to the conversation you had with him in your hotel room. 

“Well… I'm guessing he wants me and Carlos to fuck.”  your gaze snapped towards Franco “But I'm not sure what your role is in this”

 

“Well… I will get another glass then” Franco responded, and promptly made his way back downstairs. 

“I'm sorry Carlos, I had no idea about any of this” 

He chuckled “Well I supposed it is partly my fault. I have been complaining to Fernando that I have wanted to fuck you since you joined the team” 

You choked on your spit. 

Franco didn't take long to come back and sit with you, each of you with a cold drink in hand while you waited for Fernando. 

When he did finally arrive, the three of you just stared at him, waiting for an explanation. 

“I thought we could all have some fun!” he shrugged. “Given that some of us are already… intimately acquainted” 

You blushed, avoiding his eyes. 

“And also I want to see you two finally fuck” he pointed between you and Carlos. 

Franco, who was closest to him, looked up at him shyly. 

“What about me?” 

Fernando threaded a hand through Franco's hair, pulling his head back slightly and making the younger man's breath hitch as his eyes widened. 

“You… are going to sit on my lap, hermoso, and watch them” He smiled evilly “And if you are a good boy, I might reward you” 

Franco gulped, and that image was so hot your thighs clenched together involuntarily, which caught Carlos' attention. 

“You like that idea?” he muttered, leaning close to your ear “You want me to fuck you while they watch us?” 

You nodded with a small whimper, and that was all Carlos needed to press you down onto the sun lounger and devour you. 

Almost literally, he all but attacked your neck with his greedy mouth, licking and sucking at your skin in an effort to mark you up. 

His hand made quick work of the ties on your bikini, getting you completely bare for him, and he marveled at the sight. 

He then worshipped your chest, sucking hickies into your soft flesh while his hand made its way between your legs to teasingly slip a finger inside you. 

You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“More, Carlos.”  

He slipped another finger in and his thumb came to rub circles around your clit, sending jolts of electricity up your spine at the contact. 

He couldn't believe you were this wet already. 

It took you an embarrassingly short time to come, and Carlos groaned into your neck at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around his fingers. 

The sound of a bottle cap opening caught your attention and you looked at where Fernando was lubing up his fingers. 

What made a new wave of arousal course through you though, was that Franco was on his lap, bare from the waist down, his legs spread open by Fernando’s thighs. 

“Fucking hell” you muttered, and Carlos seemed to have the same though as he watched with an open mouth as Fernando teased Franco's rim, before pushing two fingers inside the younger man. 

The whimper he let out made your cunt throb, and you licked your lips at the sight of Franco's cock leaking precome onto the floor in front of him. 

“Look at me” Carlos muttered, and the look he was giving you made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I have waited for this for a long time, I am going to savour it” 

His eyes were fully black, and he slid into you slowly, inch by agonising inch until his hips met yours. 

You let out a breath, and pulled him down for a sloppy kiss while he waited for you to adjust to his girth. 

You glanced to the side, to where Fernando was placing Franco over his cock, and the younger man didn't even wince when he sank down onto it. 

“Now don't move until I say so” Fernando rumbled, and the order made Carlos twitch inside you. 

He thrusted into you shallowly, figuring out the angle and pace you preferred by the amount of noise you were making. 

Thank god your yacht was docked right at the end of the marina, next to the cliff face so you weren't very visible (or audible).  

As Carlos picked up the pace, he could feel your legs trembling, so he hooked them over his shoulders to press you down harder while he bullied his cock into you. 

The new angle made you fucking melt into the lounger, it was so good. 

 

Franco was having trouble obeying Fernando's orders, the sight of you falling apart under Carlos was making him so fucking needy it hurt. 

Not to mention Fernando's cock buried inside him, stretching him out so perfectly it was keeping him on edge.

“Nando…” he whimpered “Please, I'm gonna come” 

His hips were twitching uncontrolably, and the Spaniard decided to take pity on him. 

“Carlos!” he called “bring her over here so she can suck him off” 

The two of you crawled over without hesitation, and Franco was manhandled onto his knees with Fernando behind him. 

The first lick against Franco's angry, leaking tip made him sob out a whine and you promptly took him down as far as you could go. 

Carlos resumed his earlier pace, and stared at the way Franco's eyes rolled into the back of his skull. 

Fernando held him in place and thrusted into him at a brutal pace while you sucked him off diligently. 

Suddenly his body clenched and he threw his head back in pleasure. 

“Fuck- Mierda… Puta ma-“ 

Carlos couldn't hold himself back at the obscene sight in front of him, Fernando fucking into Franco like an animal, while you swallowed his cum like a good girl. 

A few more thrusts and he was spilling inside you as well, panting hard as he curled over you and wrapped an arm around your middle to ground himself after that intense wave of pleasure. 

Fernando wasn't far behind, coming inside Franco with a low groan while the Argentine let out a breathless whimper at the feeling of being filled up. 

Carlos thought he looked almost ethereal, glowing in the sunset with his lips bitten raw and his utterly fucked out expression. 

The thought almost made his cock twitch back to life.

 

Maybe there could be some room in his bed to explore some more with you and Franco by his side…

[butchisrevolution]

dolly dog man readthrough #5

PART #2

for whom the bell tolls

TRUST GET TO THE END OF THIS RAMBLE I GET RLLY NERDY

bro the behavioral modification therapy thing traumatized him

i've heard this is a common criticism of BMT but feel free to correct me

i feel as though this form of therapy may be unethical...

jesus. no wonder bro has problems with intimacy bro literally does not know what love feels like

lowkey saving this for myself bc i need to remember this

lowkey this is just my dad

anyways this is also not healthy obviously and another thing that would contribute to a personality disorder

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. YES HE IS. AND THIS IS WHY.

that fear doesn't come from nowhere, it was instilled in him by his dad from a young age

li'l petey my anarchist boy back at it again

oh baby

petey sees himself in his son so much rn and it's heartbreaking

HE TOOK EVERYTHING THAT'D BENEFIT HIM PRACTICALLY

BUT HE DIDN'T CARE FOR THEIR LOVE

BECAUSE HE CAN'T FATHOM PUTTING HIMSELF BEFORE OTHERS

it'd be too painful for him to confront his lifestyle choices, so he fell back into his old harmful habits and left his past behind

he's insistent on keeping this promise because his father never kept any of his promises

it's a recently opened wound, so it's his first impulse. distance himself as much as possible from his father's identity to distance himself from the hurt

THE COLOR THEORY THAT'S USED TO SET TONE IN THIS BOOK. IT'S SO WELL DONE

and now he sees what he's done in his son's mind from an outside perspective. he has cursed his son to the same fate as him, a nihilistic hopeless view on life. and he hates it. his son doesn't deserve that. he doesn't deserve to go through what he did. he's so young, he hasn't done anything wrong. through realizing this, he realizes that he didn't deserve it either, and that his view on the world isn't any more correct because of his own experiences, it's just a damaged unhealthy view of it. he deserves better too. he can create better things for himself, like love for his son

so that's what he does

he does what he can. he reinforces his son's value, which was damaged by his grampa. he inserts a more positive world view, to try and change what alterations he may have caused to his sons psyche

...

my shayla

THE SYMBOLISM OF THIS SCENE MAKES ME GO FERAL AND IS THE ENTIRE REASON I GOT INTO THIS FANDOM. THIS SCENE I FIRST SAW IN THE MOVIE AND IT'S JUST AS GOOD IF NOT BETTER IN THE COMIC

he's turning something seen as "bad" or "wrong" by society into something beautiful that will spark joy and serve a purpose. he lets himself walk through the mud to get home, he turns even that into a positive experience, letting himself feel wonder about his surroundings instead of repressing his feelings, turning them to stone cold logic. this represents his newfound effort in, not repressing his personality, but in learning to cope with it healthily and create a life worth living. a life with a purpose, something he denied himself for so long. it represents being given the chance of recovery as someone with a personality disorder.

i love this book so much

[galahadwilder]

This fic has gone in a lot of very interesting directions and I have to share this bit now.

_

"Can you just please be fucking honest with me?" Cait screams. "For once?"

Mel blinks, taken aback. "Caitlyn—"

"Don't you fucking 'Caitlyn' me!" Cait says. "You never tell me fucking anything, I have to tease it out of you, you keep telling me to not bring work at home and then make yourself into my work!"

"I'm a Councilor, Cait—" Mel begins, but Cait cuts her off again.

"Is that why I keep having to hear about how your day was from my mother?" she says, ice dripping from her voice. "She doesn't keep secrets from me, you know. Not the way you do."

"Cait, I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt you but I have to—"

"You come home with new tattoos and not a word of where they came from, you're so jumpy it seems like someone tried to shoot you, and you say nothing."

"I can't tell you!" Mel objects. "It's not safe for you to know, you'd never believe me—"

"Vi would never treat me like this," Cait snaps.

She has no idea where that came from. She has no idea who Vi is. The only "Vi" she can think of is Violet Rudenko, the girl who'd died in front of her when she was nine, the girl whose death had led to Jayce's expulsion and suicide, but something about the statement feels... right. Like she knows. Like there's something, just on the edge of her brain, that almost makes sense, that almost—

"...You're right," Mel says, a single, glowing tear escaping from the corner of her eye. "She never would."

Caitlyn stares at the drop of golden liquid on her fiancée's face, horrified. "Melanie," she whispers, "why are you glowing?"

The glow starts to spread—first her eyes, then all the gold tattoos, old and new, begin to shine. "I need you to see," Mel says. "Please, please just... understand."

Then she presses her hand to Caitlyn's chest, and suddenly both of them are flung—somewhere, somewhere perpendicular to reality, as if there were another spatial direction aside from the three that Caitlyn is familiar with. The floor drops out from under her, the walls blast away, the ceiling is a vault of stars on stars on stars, and it's just her and Mel, both of them shining, naked, all the way past the skin, down into the soul.

"I must say, Medarda, I didn't expect you back so soon," says a Shuriman-accented voice as a man floats into view. He's about as old as her father, salt-and-pepper beard under wild hair, clearly a Zaunite face.

Mel swallows. "Caitlyn," she says, "this is the mage who saved Jayce when he was a child."

The man smiles at Caitlyn as if he knows her. "Hello again," he says, extending a mottled, metallic hand. "My name is Viktor."

I’m not even done with “pretend like it’s the first time” and this episode has fucking destroyed me. I need to write 100 timebomb multiverse fics right the fuck now.

[thatoneevanfan]

Remus Lupin x popular girl!reader

In which the popular girl starts taking interest in her tutor.

warnings: lowkey bimbo reader, oblivious Remus, cussing, tension, lowkey suggestive

—————————————————————————————————————

YOUR POV:

“Ughhh” you groan as you slam your head against your desk. “I don’t even know what you see in him. Isn’t he like a nerd?” Your friend, who was laying uninterested on your bed, reading some fashion magazine. “Well… Kind of but that’s what makes him so hot. He’s hot and he doesn’t even know it! Such a turn on.” You daydream.

“You sound like you’d fuck his brains out.” She chuckles plainly, barely leaving any actual emotion in her words.

“well that’s the thing. I WOULD. If only he gave me the chance…” You whine out frustrated while trying to once again regain your focus on your potions essay.

“Also what the fuck is this essay. I don’t get anything. Potion class sucks.” You groan out dramatically.

“Why don’t you just ask your wonderful man to tutor you?” She rolls her eyes sarcastically. You bite your lips focused but your demeanor changes at her suggestion.

“Wait a minute… YOURE BLUDDY BRILLIANT.” You shout out excitedly, jumping over to the bed and placing a smooch on her forehead.

“What? I wasn’t being serious Y/n! Where are you going?” She yells after you as you skip outside the dormitory, leaving her dumbfounded on your bed. Quickly you run back into the room and grab her along, to help with your plan.

—————————————————————————————————————

No Pov:

He walks into the library looking for his favorite book on one of the shelves. Suddenly he hears sighs coming from behind one of the shelves. With much curiosity and worry he decided to go look into the noise.

As he walks around the he spots you.

Well and your friend.

He watches as you dramatically sigh and whine over an essay. He pretends to look for a book to continue eaves dropping.

“This essay is so hard. If only I had someone that could tutor me.” He hears you, once again, sigh dramatically. Any less oblivious person would have instantly noticed your intention, Remus however was way too oblivious to understand your intent. Innocently he turns around and asks you if you need a tutor.

“Well there’s just noooo way i Could ask that of you…” You sigh once again longer than you should have.

He however assures you that he would love to help you. He is a prefect after all.

You happily agree and plan a time and place to meet.

_____________________________________

NO POV:

Happily you start skipping over to your agreed upon place. You grin to yourself as you look down on your outfit. Your school skirt, way too short. Your out of school shirt, way too much cleavage. Perfect.

“Hiii Remus” You smile innocently at the poor boy who is still completely oblivious.

“Hi Y/n, so i’ve looked at your task and basically you have to write down what happens through out the experiment. Lucky for you I have connections so we get to use the potions classroom and the stuff in it.” He smiles proudly.

“Oh wow remus! That’s great, I wonder what i would have done without you.” You exclaim dramatically.

He blushes furiously at your words.

You both make your way to the classroom to start working on the project.

_____________________________________

“Sooo you crush this unicorn hair, mix it in with the hardsnail slime and the water, then it turns into this white thicker liquid.” He explains with full concentration.

“Mhmm does it?” You giggle at his words like a 14 year old boy. His eyebrows furrow at your reaction as he tries to figure out what was so funny. “Why did you- Oh. Y/n that’s-“ He cuts him self of with silence as he remains speechless. You sit quiet with a proud grin.

“anyway… you continue by stirring.” he instructs with a stutter.

—————————————————————————————————————

The awkwardness continues for another hour, as you manage to make everything he says have a sexual undertone, as well as occasionally brushing against him.

However something finally makes him crack.

The liquid you both had made seemed to start bubbling and started splashing. Some of the white liquid splashed onto his face, making it look quite… sexual.

“Now in a different setting i’d think that’s hot.” You smile suggestively.

He takes a sharp breath and looks at you with furrowed brows.

You reach out to wipe it away but he grabs your wrist mid move.

“Y/n.” he exclaims, saying your name like a warning.

You start to feel a little bit embarrassed, feeling rejected.

You apologize and quickly get up to leave, gathering your things.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He once again warns. You look up at him with confusion, slightly blushing at his demanding tone.

You open your mouth to respond but quickly get shut up by him pulling you in for a kiss. You continue to make out for a few seconds before he pulls off for air. He grabs his stuff and walks to the door. “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” He grins at you before leaving you there.

You stand there dumbfounded but your mouth quickly turns into a grin.

He totally wants you. You think to yourself proudly.

But… what will the next step be?

[tojisteddy]

Toji core.

“Forwards, beckon, rebound. Forwards, beckon, rebound.”

Or: My idea of Toji’s is like in his simple life + a little bit of you.

cw: alternate universe, shall be referring to this toji as, ‘casual!Toji’ the Toji that I will almost always refer to when I write because I love this idea of him, childless!Toji, he’s still assassin but it’s just a side gig, bit of angst, suggestive talk, talks of mental health.

Casual!Toji, is actually not as bad as you think with his money… Okay, is it mainly because he has a lot of it? Yes. Does he spend a fair amount gambling? Yes. There’s method to the madness.

Casual!Toji, who does job hop here and there whenever he gets the itch to. He switches from being a mechanic to carpentry to construction. His favorite jobs are in carpentry (which he’s actually really good at), he likes building things that will last.

Casual!Toji, that has a devious smirk on his face as he eggs drunkards on in the middle of the day so he can watch free WWE fights. Even going as far betting money on who’s gonna win and winning $100.

Casual!Toji loved going to new bars and trying out new alcohol and food, you even created an account where you tweet, word for word, his criticism of the bar, the good and bad. The account has about 2000 dedicated followers. It’s cute.

The older man has to work out, whether it be in the house, the backyard or the gym. He knew his way around a gym, could be a trainer if he could tolerate training someone. He needed to keep his body fit, for any type of job he had, for himself and to keep up the libido. You’d suggested working out too, and got a strict ‘No.’ why? “I love seein my girl pass out after being fucked out ‘f her mind.”

Casual!Toji, who is a loving dog dad of two large English Dobermans. His big boy, Hobi named after Hobie Brown (yes named after Spider-Man, I think Toji would be a big fan actually, especially of Andrew Garfield’s, he definitely has a few figurines around the house. Along with the Spider-Man plush that Hobi keeps in his mouth). And then his baby girl, Rina who has a green collar with a little white bow and always ready to play. Both of them are incredibly well trained (and can attack) thanks to Toji training them.

When he’s out of a job, Casual!Toji wakes up in the middle of the day, then spends the last hours of day right at the horse track. Betting on whatever horse is in the seventh lane because ‘lucky 7 always wins’. Sometimes he wins some extra cash, on a great day he’s at the bar with Shiu and celebrating with strangers. Drunk dialing you, “ ‘M gonna buy you whaaatever you want mama. Want a new bag, I’ll buy it for ya!’ ‘Toj, it’s 2 am.’ a pause. Silence. ‘ ‘Nd yer sleepin without me? Where the hell are you woman?’

Casual!Toji, that has a devious smirk on his face as he eggs drunkards on in the middle of the day so he can watch free WWE fights. Even going as far betting money on who’s gonna win and winning $100. He can be an ass.

He can act like such an old man sometimes, grumbling up a storm if he’s pissed off. Forgetting all the time. Or taking a nap anywhere he felt suit in the middle of the day. And of course, if Casual!Toji was napping he’d have you right there in his arms telling you to ‘go the hell to sleep.’ You two were on a joint schedule.

Casual!Toji isn’t a chain smoker, but he needs at least one throughout the day. Whether it be on the back porch, while he’s making a quick trip to the confer store, in the bathtub or right before he joins you for a nap on the couch.

Loved bickering with you, loved seeing you get flustered or annoyed, your eyebrows knitting together and saying some bullshit from your pretty fucking lips. Casual!Toji couldn’t help that stupid smirk that would form on his face and you’d get more pissed. You were so fuckin adorable to him.

He didn’t expect to want you so badly, you were adamant on just staying fuck buddies, but the green eyed monster slithered into your life. If you didn’t want him, Casual!Toji would fuck your brains out until you had to stay over. And suddenly, you’re feeding the dogs while he’s making breakfast. Your doing the laundry together, going on lunch dates, coming back to his place after work—

When the hell did that happen?

Of course he has tattoos, a large black, grey and red back piece to be exact of a dragon. He had some other tattoos around his body too, angel wings right behind his ear for his deceased wife. He’d get one for you as soon as he put a rock on your finger.

Casual!Toji knows you hate when he takes “jobs”, you never know if he’s going to end up completely beat up, or without a scratch. Or worse, not coming back at all. But he needed the money. It was for reassurance, stabilizing your joint future. He didn’t want you to worry about money with him, he’d provide for you, even if he died. You hated when he talked like that, you’d leaving for a couple days. Maybe a week. And he’d be right there in front of your apartment once his gut told him to got see you, food in hand, going back to your usual routine. He understood your anger, the worry. But he couldn’t comfort you properly because he wouldn’t quit. Only thing he could do is stay by your side.

You’d been forced to learn how to sew up a bullet hole or stab wound (with the help of delirious Toji barking at you to get it right the first time), knew how to clean up blood that would stain the floors, calm the dogs as they barked for their owner to get proper help, and knew above all else the silence that would fill the house once you finished playing surgeon. Toji’s soft shallow breaths filling the air, chest rising and falling slowly. And you’d sit and keep watch. As if you were stronger than him, like you could protect him from all the bullshit that he’d just endured.

You thought of leaving once or twice.

But it led you to dead ends. You loved Toji. Toji loved you. And no matter how many times Toji told you. Baring himself naked before you, giving you everything, and I mean everything, he had, no matter how you looked at it; you were each other’s life lines. There was no one without the other. Soulmates. So you’d sit, for hours upon hours, making sure he was alright. Padding away the sweat that would build up on his forehead as he slept. Until you felt his large calloused hand stoking the curly baby hairs at the back of your neck. “Come on baby, go to sleep.”

And you did.

The man wasn’t a fan of music. Hed listen to whatever you put on and enjoy it. He’d listen as you rambled your pretty little head off about your favorite artists, even memorizing the songs you had on constant replay. But Casual!Toji loved listening to The Smiths, Mac DeMarco, Tame Impala, Nirvana, Frank Ocean, Brent Faiyez, and Najabes. He’d tickle underneath your chin as he’s sing along, ‘Now your lost, lost in the heat of it all.’

Casual!Toji who isn’t a dirty bastard. He loves taking a shower and a bath with you after a long day of work, even going to the public bathhouse so ease his mind. He made it his mission to book a private onsen with you during the holidays because he knew that was really the only time you had off during the year.

Prefers to do things together. Laundry, cooking, errand runs, watching whatever you watched— had to be in your vicinity like Clifford the big red dog.

Casual!Toji who has to fuck you atleast twice a week, whether he has your pretty wet cunt in his mouth, your hand softly squeezing his cock as you rubbed him off, your face pressed against the bathroom tile as he drills into you from behind or he’s fucking you right against the kitchen table right before you two had dinner.

Casual!Toji who doesn’t mind cursing you out no matter where you are. Unless he’s already told you once, he won’t hold his tongue when he needs to correct you. “watch your fuckin mouth.” “ ‘nd who the fuck are you talkin to?” “keep it up.” “You never shut the fuck up, do you Doll?”

Despite your playful bickering and your real arguments, he’s learned to properly communicate. Even if he has to write it down, he wants to get through to you. Casual!Toji wants to be better for you. He wants to be the best man for you and your future kids.

Casual!Toji, who doesn’t understand why it takes so long to do your hair but keeps his mouth shut about it because he’d rather not piss you off when your already annoyed to no end. He’ll go back and forth between the bedroom to the living room. Watching as you angled your head a certain way to detangle and style your hair. Then going back to the living room to watch whatever reality show that was on. When you were finished and cleaned up, you’d come and throw yourself on Toji. Who’d only acknowledge you with the grunt.

Then he’d place his hand at the back of your neck, gently rubbing it with a thumb. Giving you a much needed praise after all your hard work. “Good job baby.”

Casual!Toji, who loves Westerns. John Wayne, Django, Magnificent Seven— you name it. He’s watched it. There are even some cowboy posters and cowboy dog toys laying around. Also liked watching Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. He caught you watching it alone and got hooked.

The man stays in sweatshirts, gym shorts, sweatpants, wife beaters, plain t-shirts, leather jackets, black jeans sweatpants or a yukata. No in between. You had to beg him to add a few graphic tee’s to his attire. There’s a singular black suit that’s too small in the very back of his closet with a matching pair of wedding rings that were once used by Casual!Toji.

On the shelf above it is a pink tattered shoe box. A few pictures of Toji, ones of him smiling like an idiot, a few of a beautiful woman with short black hair with some silly faces, one or two marriage photos, a handkerchief, an old shirt, and a death certificate. It dropped on your head one day, right as you two were about to bathe for the night. Toji found you on the floor, hurriedly trying to put everything back in the box. But he’d simply bent down, neatly folding the shirt and the handkerchief, putting it in its place. And then reached for one of their marriage photos and turned it towards you.

“She was real nice. Kinda stupid, like you. But real nice.”

It was odd, seeing Toji so- so melancholy. He’d put the box back, grabbed the pack of cigarettes that was on the night stand and headed towards the connecting bathroom. You could hear some shuffling, the bath water running, and then he called out,

“Come on Doll.”

A silent Toji was never a good one.

Least, that’s what you had made up in your mind.

Toji’s head was in the clouds, the shower was quiet, the bath was quiet, something by Radiohead played softly from the speaker. The pitter patter. squishing of moving water, the crackling of Toji’s cigarette dancing between his lips and his fingers.

You shoved yourself at the end of the tub, pulling your knees to your chin— almost trying to hide yourself.

“Sorry.” You squeaked out. You felt as if something was on your shoulders, weighing you down. Maybe you were trying to compensate for the silence.

Toji cracked his neck, head falling back as he took another drag of the cigarette, “What are you apologizing for?”

He scuffed, how tense things had gotten annoyed him. Memories of his deceased wife annoyed him too, but he learned to live with the loss. Learned that everyone else moved on while he was left stranded, forced to find his own way to continue living. Years had passed, and you coincidentally fell into his lap, right in the middle of purgatory. And you created a little heaven despite your pasts.

“And why are you over there, come ‘ere. Practically burned holes in tuh me all night” His voice was gruff, his green eyes finally meeting your brown ones, but he was motioning you over.

You hesitated, before you could try to find another out, Toji pulled you by his arm. Settling you in between his legs, your back to his chest. Just like you were supposed to be.

Toji wasn’t one for serious words, not in situations like this. But he held you close, trailing his fingers from from your shoulder blades, down your arm to your hand. Taking his large hand in your smaller one and bringing it to his lips.

“I love you, you know?”

On days when it pours and pour rain, or when the snow meets your calfs— Toji is right on the porch, in his dark blue yukata that’s half open showing his chest, despite the cold, cigarette in between his pink lips, journal in hand and writing away. Who knows what he writes in there. It could be essays or simple notes and you wouldn’t know. You just knew it’s best to leave him alone to his thoughts when he’s like that. And when he’s done, which could be in 5 minutes, 30 minutes, 2 hours— there’d be hot tea waiting for him, two dogs who wanted head pats and a woman ready to give him as much love as he wanted.

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fluffbruary Fic] Learning From Old Mistakes

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: T Word Count: 1284 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2025, pre-relationship, future fic, a few years post-reunion, we're ignoring comics canon, mild violence

Notes: This could have been fluffier, but. C'est la vie. Possibly could be the same continuity as Mementos, a few years earlier. Maybe I'll come up with a series name and link them later.

Fluffbruary 2025 Prompts: Day 1: dark | defend | wander Day 2 : ocean | jest | patience Day 3 : uncertainty | myth | pause

Summary: Hob and Dream are accosted by a thief on their way home one evening

On AO3

"Hey—!"

Hob pivots abruptly on the pavement, lunges behind Dream, and there is an answering yelp.

Whirling in turn, Dream finds that Hob has caught a would-be thief—an armed one, no less.

"Fuck off!" the thief snarls, swinging at Hob with a small knife and yanking at his captive arm.

"Don't think so," Hob grunts, letting go to catch the fist with the knife in both hands. He twists the weapon up and out, pushing the man back—away from Dream.

David Brown, nineteen years old, Dream ascertains of their assailant. His life has not been kind.

"Leggo! Lemme go!" David is yelling, but Hob is unswayed.

"No, you think you're going to threaten my friend? Oh, you are very much mistaken, kid." Hob's grin is fierce, frightening. They are fifteen minutes or so from Hob's home, still, a relatively quiet part of the city more industrial than not; there is no one around despite the early-evening hour and Hob has backed David into the alley they were passing, pressed him against the wall. "You picked the wrong target."

David is panicking, Dream can see; he had thought them an easy mark—easy to intimidate, easy to rob, and he does not know what to do now that his minimal plan has gone utterly awry. He lashes out, unrestrained fist swinging for Hob's head.

Hob avoids the hit, twists, punches David in the stomach and David goes down, knife falling from his grasp as he tumbles backwards with a cry. Hob is advancing, ready to hit again, but Dream steps in. A breath of his sand and David is out, dropping into a deep slumber sheperded by dreams of peace and plenty.

"That's one way to end it, I suppose," Hob says, tone almost disappointed, his stance relaxing somewhat. He glances back at Dream. "You're alright?"

"What harm do you imagine he might have done me?" Dream lets his amusement color his voice.

"He meant to rob us, Dream."

"I have no pockets to pick, Hob Gadling."

"Yeah, well. Had a knife, didn't he."

"A sizeable blade, certainly, which surely would have wrought terrible injury to one such as I."

Hob rolls his eyes. "Alright, alright, I get it—I need not come to your defense, you're unfathomably beyond human understanding. Just." He glances down at David sleeping on the ground, tugs at his earlobe. "Maybe I think you're worth protecting, is all. Maybe you deserve someone looking out for you just in case your phenomenal cosmic powers get thwarted."

Dream has not forgotten the first time Hob leapt to his defense, with a ready teacup and fists primed to follow; he had been amused then as well, but this time—

Maybe I think you're worth protecting.

Such words are unexpected, and sit warm in Dream's chest.

He will examine this feeling later.

"Damned hoodlums always looking for an easy mark," Hob is muttering, still looking down at David, kicking lightly at one foot.

"He is homeless, and hungry," Dream offers, "and short on choices."

Hob's face goes through several different expressions in the span of a heartbeat, falling into something like resignation. "Ah, hell." He steps back, sighs deeply. "There's better options than this, kid, c'mon." He takes out his wallet, pulls out a card with the New Inn's logo emblazoned across it. "Dream, can you let him wake?"

"Of course." It is barely a thought to draw David's consciousness back up from his realm.

David blinks awake, startles to find Hob crouched beside him.

"Peace, kid," Hob says, before David can speak. "Not interested in hurting you or pressing charges or anything. Here." He offers the card. "Go to this address. Show the barkeep this card. They'll get you a good meal, no charge. If you need a place to stay, they can put you up. If you're interested in finding work, they can help you out. If you need to get clean they can connect you with the right resources."

"…what?" David is blinking, flummoxed, wary.

"Go to the New Inn," Hob says patiently, indicating the card again. "Show this to the barkeep. They can get you a meal and a room for the night. Can help with finding work and getting clean, if needed. My cousin owns the place and the staff are very hands-on with community involvement and stepping up when people need help. I'll put you in a cab, if you like, or you can walk there in about an hour." He waggles the card.

"…Was set to rob you," David says, then, reaching for the card uncertainly, pausing, pulling his hand back halfway. "Why…why would you—?"

"I've been there," Hob says, matter-of-fact. "I remember starving in the streets. I've hurt people for my own survival. A kind hand made a difference to me more than once. Maybe the Inn can be a kind hand for you. At the very least you can get a good meal."

Tentatively, David takes the card.

Hob calls a cab, pays the driver and sends David on his way to the New Inn, which Hob had sold to his 'cousin' two years ago, effectively leaving it in the hands of the loyal long-term staff he'd gathered over the decades he'd called it home. David is wary and tired, jaded, ready for disappointment, but there is a glimmer of hope within the boy all the same.

"Shall we?" Hob asks, offering his arm once David's cab has driven off; a gallant gesture, accompanied by a broad and charming smile, and that warmth in Dream's chest stirs. I think you're worth protecting. He recalls the way Hob had smiled at him after dispatching Constantine's minions, notes how the smile he wears now is softer around the edges but much the same.

"Of course," Dream says, curling his hand into the crook of Hob's elbow, and the warmth in his chest unfurls a little more.

~

Hob can't help the way his smile grows as Dream actually accepts his offered arm. He'll say nothing of it, of course; it wouldn't do to spook him. 1889 was enough to drive that lesson home and he has tempered his approach since then.

He can be a patient man, after all. He has had a lot of practice. He'd waited for Dream after 1989 and been richly rewarded for that faith thirty-odd years later. He's allowed to call Dream 'friend' with all sincerity, now, and with meetings far more frequent than once a century, the last decade or so has been absolutely enlightening. He's learned Dream's name, finally, six hundred years or so into their acquaintance. He's been trusted with the truth of Dream's absence from their last centennial meeting. He's been trusted with some measure of explanation as to Dream's function in the universe, and he even understands some of it. He knows that Dream likes his tea with four spoonfuls of sugar, a splash of milk, and a story when possible. He knows Dream better than he'd ever dared to hope he might by now, lending depth and weight to his easy claim of friendship and honestly? Hob thinks he might be starting to feel a little more than friendship, perhaps, but he's definitely not going to examine that possibility any time soon. What he's got right now is more than enough, is cherished and hard-won, and he has the patience to let it grow as it will for as long as it must.

He places his hand over Dream's tucked into his elbow, delighted to have his old-fashioned offering accepted, to be allowed the touch, to be gifted with Dream's small smile in return; together they stroll on through the evening toward his home.

= Started: 1/31/25 Drafted: 2/2/25 Posted: 2/3/25

[rulerzreachf4n7]

Idk why proshippers can't do their shit in private cause they're genuinely the biggest attention seekers on Tumblr

Like no one is making you, no one is forcing you, no is holding your family hostage and the only way you can get them back is by going on Tumblr and express how much you wanna see a toddler get raped or share to people that pedophilia is hot

Like for me, I have hypersexuality and intrusive thoughts that are also sexual, meaning that although I'm against it my mind keeps on insisting that "I WANNA GET RAPED BY A 40 YEAR OLD MAN" or something like in the middle of school

You could argue saying "B-BUT PROSHIPPERS ARE THE SAME!!!111!!1 🥺🥺" the reason they do what they do is because they lack all the social and self awareness, they have no media literacy or social media etiquette, you could also argue that they're kids but most proshippers are 13+ lowest being 10, it's also scientifically proven that once you become a teenager you are the most self conscious and aware you will ever be, and also the obvious grooming and normalization of problematic topics through proshipping has also made them what they are

Do I share my hypersexuality and past porn addictions on the internet and make it my entire online personality? NO, cause I have the brain cells and self awareness to know that this shit would lead me to get harassed or threatened IF I made it seem like it was romantic and hot to have a porn addiction and hypersexuality, LIKE PROSHIPPERS, THEY ROMANTICIZE THEIR OWN TRAUMA!!!

SO THAT'S WHY YOU KEEP IT PRIVATE AND ONLY BRING IT UP IF SOMEONE IS ASKING A GENUINE QUESTION OR IMPORTANT TO A POST...AND IF YOU GENUINELY NEED HELP DON'T DO IT IN A WAY WHERE PEOPLE ARE GOING TO HARASS AND THREATEN YOU CAUSE ITS VERY EASY TO SAY,

"Uhm hey I'm *insert name* and I need help recovering with proshipping and other past sexual trauma(s) so I'm going on the internet to see if people cane help me :)"

SEE NOT THAT FUCKING HARD

[kowbelll]

Dairy Queen Dream

Word count: 1,030

I'm so sorry that this took me so long to write, but here it finally is! Big thanks to @sleepyminyard for the encouragement! I'm considering making a second part someday, but I'll let you guys decide. Also, if you've seen American Assassin, I used Victor's name and description (kinda) from that movie to help myself visualize better. My sincerest apologies for the slight angst, but I hope you enjoy!

Stiles walked into work with a sigh. He was officially an employee of Dairy Queen for a whole week, though it already felt like it had been a year. He thought working at a fast-food establishment would be easy; he was wrong. Training nearly killed him, thanks to that stupid ice cream machine. Maybe it was his clumsiness that made using it such a struggle, but he believed the thing had it out for him. If his Jeep wasn’t in grave shambles and didn’t require every penny he had, he might consider walking away and finding some other job. But alas, Dairy Queen was a necessary evil. 

He supposed it was sort of fun sometimes. He enjoyed discreetly tossing a few bits of candy into his mouth now and then, and talking to the costumers in the drive-thru with the headset made him feel like he was receiving orders from his captain on a spaceship.  

However, he already had six little burns on his poor fingers from the fry oil, and he accidentally exploded another blizzard yesterday – the fourth one thus far. The manager gave him a warning, but they both knew that Beacon Hills’ DQ was quite understaffed. They needed him, or someone like him. Stiles was the only applicant in many months.  

Hearing the bell above the door chime, signaling that another customer was entering, he made his way over to the counter, not paying any attention to what was in front of him. “Welcome to Dairy Queen. What can I get for y-” Stiles froze as his eyes made contact with hers.  

Just looking at her made his face flush, turning a deep red, and his hands suddenly felt clammy. He had never seen someone with such pure beauty. Every little detail pierced him as his gaze took her in. She was almost overwhelming.  

Her smile at the awkward moment reeled him back in and he cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “Sorry, uh... How can I help you?” 

As she gave him her order with that euphonious voice, he felt dizzy. And when the blizzard she asked for was the exact same as his favorite (since he was five years old), he almost felt out of breath. He couldn’t stop the grin that formed on his face. Stiles was smitten! 

He could see it all, right then and there: the sparkling ring he’d put on her finger, the long white dress she’d wear, the quaint home they’d live in together, the fuzzy puppy they’d adopt. Everything would’ve been perfect. Until he watched painfully as a tall, well-built, Ryan Gosling lookalike wrapped an arm around her waist and began listing his order too.  

A pit formed in Stiles’ stomach, making him nauseous. He knew nothing about the guy, yet he already hated him. He unknowingly blocked out everything he said, too busy with the jealousy that began to spark inside of him.  

He rubbed his forehead, trying to get his bearings. “Um, what was that?” 

An annoyed sigh left the ‘man’ before he recited his order again: the most disgusting concoction Stiles had ever heard. Yep, he definitely hated him.  

Stiles stared at him from around the corner as he made his blizzard, s He was too consumed to notice his hands drifting away from the mixer, causing ice cream to splatter everywhere, including all over him. “Fuck, not again...” he muttered, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in frustration. The only bright side was that it wasn’t her blizzard that exploded.  

That stupid guy had the nerve to look over and laugh, pointing a finger at poor Stiles. “Oh shit! Is it baby’s first day? Do you need a napkin?” he mocked, followed by more obnoxious laughter. 

Holding back because he knew his manager was in his office, Stiles bit his lip. To his surprise, a voice did come through to defend him. 

“Knock it off, Victor. He’s just trying to do his job.” The angel of a girl stepped in front of him and urged him to take a seat in one of the booths. She then looked back at Stiles and gave him a sweet, sympathetic smile, which he returned. “I’m really sorry about him.” 

“It’s alright. I’d probably laugh too.” 

“Maybe, but that wasn’t just a laugh...” She lowered her voice as she continued, embarrassed by her boyfriend’s actions, “That was an outburst.” 

Stiles suddenly felt horrible for her. The look on her face showed that this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, and the guilt she clearly felt wasn’t fair. Everything inside of him told him to hop over the counter and save her – run away with her, hug her close, and make her feel safe, loved, and appreciated. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, and Victor looked like he could knock him out with one good punch. 

“Hey, really, it’s ok. Don’t feel bad on his behalf.” 

Her smile partially returned. “Well, thank you. I’ll make sure he gives you a good tip.” 

“Alright, I’m looking forward to it,” he said, chuckling. 

With that, Stiles quickly wiped up what he could and made a new blizzard for the douchebag, this time without making a massive mess and a fool of himself. Once all of their order was together, he carried the trays to their table, making sure to flip both of the blizzards. He completely ignored Victor’s existence and focused on the beautiful smiling angel instead.  

Walking away was harder than he thought it would be. In the short amount of time since he met her, he somehow grew attached to her. He couldn’t explain why or how, but he knew he felt something strong for her.  

He decided that watching her enjoy a meal with that scum was too much for him to bear, so he went on his lunch break and got some fresh air outside. He hoped that he’d at least see her lovely face one more time before they left, but when he came back inside, they were gone, just a crumpled ten-dollar bill left in their place, and his heart cracked. Stiles had no idea if he’d ever see her again, but he certainly hoped so.  

[bowl-of-fruit-loops]

I’m gonna need everyone to liveblog their da4 experiences and be so so detailed. let me live through you

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

And remember kids, the next time someone tells you, "George R. R. Martin wouldn't make Jon Snow the typical fantasy hero because that's cliche".....

Oh yes he would!

One viewer wants to know what character would you play (on the show)? GRRM: If I could magically clap my hands and become a different person, it would be cool to play Jon Snow who's much more of the classic hero. Everybody wants to be the classic hero! ABC Interview, 2014

GRRM: And the character I’d want to be? Well who wouldn’t want to be Jon Snow — the brooding, Byronic, romantic hero whom all the girls love. Meduza Interview, 2017

In fact he already has ☺️

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

As requested, this scene/joke in its entirety. It's a hoot! Get it, Vinny!

[ninkaku]

“they had something” and it’s gihun and frontman ?? im sick