#but I'm tired of seeing the same rhetoric over and over again

[average-mako-enjoyer]

Oh boy, do I feel weird about the genre of posts about Garrus that I see at least a couple times a week, praising him for "dropping everything in his life to join Shepard" and "never questioning Shepard".

Firstly, this is not true.

Garrus joins Shepard in ME1 because he is a cop who is tired of being constrained by the law. He quits his job because of the vibes he gets from Saren and because he wants to stick it to his boss. He also wants to kill a guy so badly that he vibrates with that need.

Garrus joins Shepard in ME2 because he was a bad leader, created a situation that killed all of his teammates, then got badly wounded and had to be evacuated, and again wants to kill a guy so badly that he vibrates with that need.

He joins Shepard in ME3 because the fucking turian Primarch is on board, and the Normandy, being the most advanced ship in both the human and turian fleets, is a spearhead in a war against the Reapers.

It's never just about Shepard, and it was never meant to be just about Shepard, and that's a good thing! Is it really that romantic to strip Garrus of all agency, of his own personal life and needs? To say "he dropped everything" is to degrade him to the level of Shepard's accessory. Maybe don't do that? And secondly, Garrus not questioning Shepard, not challenging them, and Shep and Garrus both enabling each other is a bad thing, you know? This romance is not healthy, it was never meant to be healthy. Garrus is a very, very gray character (he's literally the only one who supports Shepard's decision to kill Mordin and sabotage the genophage cure). You can't "fix" him, you can't make him a paragon, and to treat him as such is to strip him of his personality.

Garrus is an ends-justifies-the-means kind of guy, he's an "I need to kill someone and I don't care how many lives it takes or ruins" kind of guy, he's the kind of guy who will always put his own goals ahead of you and your comfort, and since you like him so much, maybe you should respect that?

Just sayin'.

[scarletttries]

Roman Roy x Reader Headcanons from Succession Episode 4.09 Church and State

Roman Roy x Reader Headcanons Part Three: Funeral Episode

Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Reader

Word count: 1.8k (warnings: spoilers for the new season/episode of Succession, mentions of Logany child abuse and a violent crowd)

Author’s Note: Oh Roman Roy, you lost me with your dedication to a right-wing president, then drew me right back in by whimpering through the better part of an hour in the last episode. Thank you for all the messages asking for some headcanons from the Funeral episode, because it was a doozy! I hope you enjoy and thank you for every request that's come in during this season of Succession, I know it's going to keep me busy for a long time and I love that! Roman Roy masterlist here 😊

Roman Roy Headcanons from Logan's Funeral:

- When you stood straightening Roman's tie that morning, hearing that same rehearsed speech for the hundredth time, you felt like you were loading up an aircraft carrier with too many passengers and not enough fuel; it was an impending disaster that could only be of the most mammoth proportions. Since the day he said that strangled goodbye down the phone to his father, Roman had been stoic, blasé even, in his grief. Or his pre-grief as he proudly called it. But you knew him and you knew grief better than that, watching over the course of days as each of the threads holding his grinning mask in place slowly seemed to unravel, leaving his upbeat façade hanging on by a thread.

- As you tugged at your own black outfit, never a comfortable occasion to dress for, you watched him pace behind you, unable to take his eyes off his own reflection, smoothing out his eyebrows with a flourish.

"I'm kind of the man today right?" The question was rhetorical and the tone was smug as he turned on his heels to race over to you, wrapping his arms around you in a way you know he would have never dreamed of a year ago. You were so proud of how comfortable he had become with you, but you wished it extended to his feelings about his father's death.

"Oh definitely, and you look the part too." You retorted with a matching, albeit false, smile leaning in to steal a kiss before tenderly picking up his hand. " How are you feeling?"

He shrugged and sighed loudly at the question, tired of everyone asking him, even if he knew you were the only person who genuinely cared.

"I feel great! I'm going to absolutely kill this thing, and Menken's going to eat it up with his little silver spoon, and then we're one step closer to stopping the GoJo deal and then bing-bang-bong me and you rule the world." He said it so matter-of-factly it was almost like you'd asked him if he'd been to pick up his dry cleaning, clearly not quite facing the reality of the day. You just hoped that would last past the funeral and until he was safely home again.

- Unfortunately we know that was never meant to be. The moment you see him gingerly walking up to the microphone, all eyes on him, you know he's not okay. His hands are shaking as he picks up the familiar flashcards you helped him write, his voice cracks on the first line and then he glances up and finds your eyes in the crowd, with a desperate pleading look that has you and the Roy siblings quickly on your feet and approaching him like he's a wounded animal, scared it will dart away and do itself more damage.

- He breaks into uncontrollable sobs the minute Shiv's hand lands on his arm, and you feel just awful for letting it get to this stage, the whole world watching a beaten dog unable to defend itself even after its cruel master has long died. As his siblings comfort him, their own grief welling up in their eyes as his tiny frame seems to shrink in on itself, unable to support the weight of its own suffering, he mumbles out, "Can you do it?" It takes you a moment to realise he's looking at you, and Ken and Shiv don't seem happy with the idea, but Roman's eyes are pleading and his whole body is trembling and you've heard the speech enough times and it might salvage something for Roman so you reluctantly nod, walking up to the microphone before your brain can kick in enough to stop you or think about just how high the stakes are here.

- You don't apologise or acknowledge Roman's tears as you start, launching straight into "Logan Roy was a great man," to the relief of everyone in the church. You're careful to deliver it with the gravitas it deserves, sticking to his professional accomplishments and forcing yourself to stare dead ahead, not daring to glance at the shivering child of a man sniffling into a tissue in the front row. As the well-rehearsed lines come to an end you can't help but try to damage control for Roman, with a line about the "overwhelming love Logan's children felt from him, today and every day of their lives" hoping desperately people will show some small mercy to the man you've grown to love. As you carefully descend the stairs to the polite applause, Ken gives you an approving nod, shuffling to microphone himself, unable to let the day pass without making a performance of his own. But you don't hear a word he says as you sit stiffly next to Roman, shoulder to shoulder like you used to do in work meetings before he knew how to ask to hold your hand. You use every ounce of restraint to keep him upright, knowing he's desperate to collapse in a heap on your lap, but knowing you can't let that happen until you two are safely back in the privacy of your home, knowing Roman will thank you for your resolve another day.

- As the Roy siblings approach the showy mausoleum you hang back by the car, letting them have their moment of privacy alone. You receive a few words of praise from the old guard for stepping up today, and have to apologise again to Willa that Connor didn't get to say his piece, but mostly you just brace yourself for the inevitable, ready to fling open the car door as Roman stomps away from the ceremony just moments after it begins. Following him into the car and pulling the door shut behind you, you finally pull him into your arms, grateful for the dark tinted windows as he starts to fall apart, splitting along every crack that Logan Roy carved into his fragile skin. His chest heaves against your legs as he begs you not to let them put him in that cold, stone crypt, that wants to stay with you, he wants to be wherever you are. You stroke his hair and make him a promise that you'll always be by each other's sides, whatever this or the next life brings, reassuring him just enough that he can lift his tear-stained face and press his lips to yours, wanting so desperately to feel that familiar rush of life as reminders of mortality close in around him.

- You're not exactly sure what Roman did to deserve any help from Gerri, but by the time you get to the evening soiree, she's already got Hugo spinning the narrative that Roman's tears were planned and rehearsed, an act of sympathy to show that Waystar is no longer under the control of a cold tyrant. There are a few doubtful looks from Lucas and his posse but the president seems half-convinced, commending you on 'your whole stand-by-your-man act' commenting that he's sure it will play well with voters in the Midwest, whatever that means. You just have to politely smile and nod, almost grateful he's the kind of man that doesn't think women should be heard considering the venom you're sure would pour from your mouth the second it opened in his direction.

- Despite the best efforts at damage control Kendall still finds a video of his brother sobbing trending on twitter, and the moment you leave his side, Ken's there to tell Roman that's he fucked everything, that can't do anything right, that's he lucky Ken still needs him or he'd be out of Waystar, and then you'd been done with him too. By the time you return from an extended trip to the bathroom, having hidden in a stall for five minutes rather than face interrupting a bizarre interaction between Shiv and her mother happening at the sinks, Roman's nowhere to be found. You can feel your stomach acid rising up and eating at the back of your throat as you try and ask his staff if they saw which way he'd gone, a deep pang of panic rushing through your system when a waiter tells you he's gone to see the protests outside.

- Formal black heels cast aside you sprint down the street, praying he hasn't done anything to get himself killed, knowing more than anything Roman will be craving a taste of violence to fill the void his father left. Over the deafening sound of your own frantic pulse, you heard him before you saw him, chastising the crowd as he leaps over the fencing, shoving a man twice his size and crumbling to the ground as he pushes him right back. By the time you get through the gap between guard rails Roman is on the floor, curled in the foetal position, exactly where he'd found himself whenever he'd let his father down. Every stomping foot and aching bruise made him feel close to Logan again, like he was finally playing his part, until a pair of hands dragged him back to his feet.

- Preparing to lash out again he snatched his hands away from his good Samaritan, only to be met with you, sobbing at him, looking as downtrodden as he had all afternoon. Roman was taken aback - he'd always been the one reduced to tears, trying to disguise his sobs with echoing laughs and rubbing his eyes a little too hard, but he didn't think he'd ever made someone cry before, certainly not over him. His stomach dropped as you tried to call out his name, choking on your shaky breath and tears, looking half-broken as you brought your hands up to his grazed face, wiping a trickle of blood from a cut over his eye. Your eyes looked almost frightened as you waited for him to push your hands away again, but instead his arms closed in around squeezing you tightly again his chest as he dragged you both back behind the barricade.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm okay, we're okay." Was all Roman could bring himself to repeat, new to reassurance but desperate to stop you feeling the way he usually did, hoping for once to be the cure to tears, rather than the one left spilling them. He just stood there, holding you in his arms as the line of armoured police went past, feeling you shake against his chest, so relieved that he was okay, and so exhausted with the fact that you both always had to be, despite everything. But as he clutched you tight, resting his cheek on the top of your head, chanting endless 'it's going to be okays', feeling every ounce of the concern and love shared between you, at some point he started to really believe it.

[666writingcafe]

Cursed Karaoke

Diavolo

Would it be bad of me to say that participating in this karaoke challenge is the last thing on my mind?

Don't get me wrong; I like the idea of doing something fun. Especially when it's with the brothers. Their antics always amuse me. Being an only child can be rather lonely sometimes.

But right now, I wish they weren't in this room with me.

"Asmodeus has been eliminated. Any participant who fails to achieve a score of 100 is sent to the punishment room."

The punishment room.

I've been reading a lot of books recently that make use of a punishment room. Some are merely for professional purposes, but others are a bit more...personal. They're the type of books that I read late at night when I can't sleep and need something to visualize as I--

A nudge.

"Look up."

I follow MC's gaze and see a red light blinking on the ceiling. We're being recorded.

Which means the punishment room isn't really a punishment room, is it?

How cruel would it be for me to implement something like that? I'd need consent, of course, but the idea of having someone watching me--no, us--is rather tantalizing. The witness wouldn't be able to do a single thing to change what was happening on the screen. They'd just have to observe every single thing we do.

I take a few sips of water to clear my head. What is wrong with me? Why am I having these thoughts?

That's a rhetorical question. I know exactly why I'm having these thoughts, and they can all be traced back to one specific night.

To say that there was a spark between MC and me that evening would be an understatement. It was more akin to a blazing inferno. Which is a bit strange, considering that we started off not really trusting each other, but opinions change overtime, I suppose.

Still, I wouldn't have expected them to be quite so...eager. Attentive, too. Without me having to say a word, they knew when to take charge and when to step back. It was like we were on the same wavelength. In any case, we didn't get much sleep that night.

And I've wanted to do it again ever since, but sadly it just hasn't worked out that way. Some of it is due to my duties taking up the majority of my time, but some of it has been conscious on my part.

I know that MC told him about what happened, and while he hasn't talked about it to me, I can tell he's upset. He acts fine enough when we're together, but there's tension that wasn't there before. He's trying to control himself so that he doesn't blow up in my face.

Just this once, I want to see him angry. He'd at least be honest then. I'm tired of him pretending to be polite when I know he wants to bash my head in. I want to see the fire in his eyes, the one that was there when I first met him.

We're going to talk when this is over and we return to the manor.

[hypnoneghoul]

I am not the same anon but I would love another fic about little eds having rain. Love your fics btw, so good and comforting to read!

hi dear anon! have some eds having little rainy being cute, pure fluff (ft. swissalps)

“What do we have here, huh?” Mountain asked as he set a foot in the common room. The question was rather rhetorical.

Rain, wrapped up in a blanket, was curled up in Swiss’ lap, some marine life documentary running on the TV. The water ghoul didn’t even notice Mountain come in or speak, they were so invested in it, all but glued to the screen. A pair of purple crutches resting against the back of a couch was another hint, a strong one, as to how the two ghouls ended up doing pretty much nothing in the middle of a day.

“Hey, big guy,” Swiss greeted the earth ghoul, inviting him over with a nod. Mountain noticed he wanted to move his arms, maybe to wave or pat the couch next to them, but it looked like he couldn't move, his limbs hidden beneath a very fluffy, special baby blue blanket.

Mountain did get closer, though, sitting on Swiss’ right where he could actually see Rain’s face, half hidden behind the blanket, “How are you, sweetie?”

“Mounty?” Rain perked up as they finally noticed the earth ghoul, only when he was right in front of their face. A face that was now split with a toothy grin.

“That’s right, petal," he chuckled, ruffling Rain's hair. The water ghoul leaned into the touch, kicking up a quiet, delicate purr. "So, how are you?"

"'m fine," they sighed, their weight slipping off of Swiss and onto Mountain just a bit. "Was jus' tired, an- and m' legs hurt. But s'okay."

"Oh, sweetie," Mountain cooed, trying to snake one of his hands under the blanket to rub their offending limbs. To no avail, though, Rain was fully cocooned. "Is Swissy warming you up alright?"

"Mhm! Swissy s'nice to me, "they purred grinning up at the aforementioned.

"How could I not treat my little Rainy like the princess they are, hm?" the multi ghoul teased, reveling in the cutest little blush that crept up Rain's cheeks as they tried to burrow their face back into the blanket.

"Stooop," Rain tried to argue but their little giggles, deadly adorable, sold them out right there.

"Never! You are our perfect little princess!" 

"Most definitely," Mountain laughed as Swiss leaned down to kiss the water ghoul's horn. He scratched their forehead with his stubble along the way, pulling out a high pitched, but still pleased, chirp out of the ghoul.

"Oh, did someone like that?"

"N- no, not a'all," came back, muffled by the blanket, but the grumble was as fake as it could get.

"I think you did, petal," the earth ghoul whispered, as if Swiss was not supposed to hear it.

"Mounty! Shhh!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, little one! I didn't think at all," he tried so hard to keep his serious expression flawless, "I promise I'll be quiet, won't tell him a word!"

Rain trilled at that, and then silence fell as they got lost obviously very deep in thought. Swiss took it as an opportunity to tease them some more, "Whatcha thinkin' about, guppy?"

The water ghoul's head snapped in his direction, brows furrowed. They didn't say a word but their gaze moved onto Mountain and after a second a finger wiggled its way out of the blanket cocoon, curling up in a "come closer" motion.

Mountain obliged, his ear ending up just in front of where Rain's mouth was behind the blanket, "You won't tell him?"

"Never, sweetie," the drummer promised, deadly serious. "My lips are glued shut."

"How can they be shut, you're talking!" they giggled. "Dummy!"

Mountain felt his stomach flip from the amount of cuteness. They were right, though, there was no way to deny.

He licked his finger and ran it over his lips, then pressed them together. He lifted up that finger, telling Rain to wait, and when he lowered it, he pretended to try to open his mouth but he made it look like he actually glued it shut.

Rain giggled again, absolutely adorable, as they motioned for the other to get closer again. Then they whispered, "I love Swissy."

Said ghoul had to bite his tongue to not audibly go 'awww' at Rain's little confession.

Mountain, though, shot back, looking stunned, making his closed mouth move like he was trying really hard to say something.

"Y'can speak!" Rain laughed, their shoulders shaking under the blanket. Mountain hummed, mouth still closed, and threw his hands up, as if he was trying to say he couldn't do anything now.

"Looks like he needs some help," Swiss chimed in. "What do you say, kiddo?"

Rain thought for a moment, their head tilting from side to side. Finally, they got an idea, "I know!"

"Oh, and what is it, guppy? How do we help our Mounty?"

"You gotta give'm a kiss, Swissy," they announced with a pride of a scientist having made a glorious discovery.

"Is that so?" the multi ghoul chuckled, winking at Mountain as he rolled his eyes, but bravely stayed in character.

"Yes! Go on!"

And who was Swiss to not obey? He leaned over Rain's shoulder and pressed his lips to Mountain's own. When they parted, the earth ghoul pretended to dramatically take a deep breath, then grinning like stupid.

"Tada!" Swiss shouted. "You're so smart, guppy, look, it worked!"

Rain shied away, hiding behind the blanket again but both Swiss and Mountain could see their proud smile very well.

"Thanks for help, boys," the latter sighed, theatrically wiping non existent sweat from his forehead. "Now, what was it about those stubborn legs of yours, sweetie?"

"Nothin' really," they shrugged, "jus' hurt."

"My poor princess," the earth ghoul cooed, pouting. His puppy eyes made an appearance too. "We can't have that, would you like me to get you something?"

"Hmmm… I just wan' cuddles…" they admitted.

"Oh, that can be arranged, guppy," Swiss chuckled, nodding at Mountain. "Big guy, get in position."

He did, moving to a corner of the couch and leaning against the back of it. Swiss then stood up, Rain gathered up in his arms, and dropped them into Mountain's lap. He grabbed them, pulling their back flush to his chest, their aching legs comfortably straightened out between Mountain's own.

Swiss put some pillows under them to help the circulation, and wrapped them in another blanket before laying down beside the already purring ghouls. He threw his arm over Rain's middle and rested his face next to their shoulder, on Mountain's arm.

Rain most definitely did not end up rubbing their own stubble over Swiss', purring louder than a jet engine.

[yes-m-ray]

i hate how the "Laudna just lives to please Imogen" discourse absolutely removes agency and development from both characters, while also completely ignoring 30+ & 10+ years of trauma at the same time.

i don't have the rhetorical might to develop those points in written form, but when i see people saying, with all certainty, how them "don't work together", or how they should separate to "grow"... i die a little inside.

I want to give those people a chance, i hope they don't really believe that after analyzing a 2 year friendship, and 12 DAYS of a formal relationship IN THE MIDDLE of THE END OF THE WORLD is enough to pull those conclusions. But i don't know...

I've seen this same people seething about their relationship since the start of the campaign so... idk

Anyway i trust the players over everything. They are very aware of their character flaws and arcs (even if these people seem to forget that somehow?) so i know i'm in good hands.

But at the same time... ngl, that this keeps happening to the women characters, and to the sapphic relationships specifically, over and over again... it gets a little bit tiring.

[winniethewife]

Eclipsing Love

(Marc Spector x Mafia!Oc)

Chapter 1: The Bar

Words:1751

A/N: You all Have @ominoose to thank for this. She wanted it and now its here. Also this is a marc focused fic, Will mention Steven and Jake occasionally

 “A Round of whiskey… please,” Marc said the exhaustion in his voice is obvious. His elbows on the bar as he takes a seat. The bar was mostly empty just a few regulars.

The Bartender gives him a half smile at the dark haired man and pours his whiskey taking the card he holds out. “Start a tab or close out?” She asks casually, her light copper hair flows down her back, her jade green eyes meet his chocolate brown ones. Her low cut top showing off her cleavage and the very edge of a tattoo.

“Keep it open.” Marc let out a tired sigh, his thumb pressing on the underside of the bar with the same hand that had paid for the whiskey. He looked up, meeting the woman's green gaze for a moment before glancing at the tattoo he could see. He takes a sip of the whiskey, letting the rest in his throat for a minute before speaking

“What's the tattoo of?” He asked, the faint sound of gravel being heard behind the words or was that just the whiskey speaking? She pulls the shirt to the side to show the entirety of the Egyptian lotus flower below her collar bone.

“I got it last time I was in Cairo.”  She says as she pulls her shirt back over the tattoo before turning to put his card in the rolodex.

 “Looks pretty damn cool.” Marc took a moment to stare at the tattoo, as if his gaze might just be able to touch the skin beneath it.

“What’s your name?” He asked, leaning in further hoping to get a better look at all of her, the dark circles under his eyes looking much more pronounced at the moment.

“Charlotte, Charlotte Walker and you're Marc right?” She asks as she starts to dry some of the glasses she was washing when he walked in. Her movement is remarkably graceful and fast. She must have been doing this for a while.

“Yeah.” Damn, she remembered. Marc nodded, that gravel-filled tone coming back into his voice as he took a swig of the whiskey in his glass. A moment passed by in silence.

“You work here?” It felt more rhetorical than anything, especially considering how she had been behind the counter the whole time.

“No, I just walked back I just walked back here one day and they won't let me leave”. She says sarcastically as she gives him another half-smile and a raise of the eyebrow. She's a smartass and she's pretty. That's a dangerous combination. Marc's gaze traveled down to the tattoo on her collarbone again, as if looking at it for a few minutes longer would let him look beyond the clothes this time.

"When's your break?" He asked without warning, not meaning to say anything at all but realizing it was a question before he could stop himself.

“At 3am when the bar closes. Then I go home.” She says as she puts the glasses she was drying away. As she uses a step stool to get up to the higher shelf he notices her shorts, fishnet tights and her combat boots, her legs adorned with many more tattoos. He wonders if there's more tattoos under her leather jacket. The leather jacket caught Marc's attention though it didn't stop him from looking her over every time she did something or moved around the place. He cleared his throat.

"Can I take you home then?" That was bold. She laughs slightly. “

Be careful Marc, don't want you to fall too fast here... I serve you one whiskey and you're asking me back to your place, you don't even know me.” She turns back to him that same sexy smirk on her face. “You have no idea who I really am, what if I'm dangerous?” She leans on the bar.

"I'm not the type that cares about dangerous." Oh, wow. That's exactly how you make a girl swoon, Marc. A tired half-smile broke his neutral expression, and he couldn't help but laugh at how bold he was being at the moment. He was enjoying himself for the first time in a long time. "I'll take my chances."

“Now you're just asking for trouble...” Charlotte shakes her head as she chuckles as the night goes on more customers come in and Charlotte keeps busy but always makes her way back to Marc when she has a moment to talk. He finds out that her father owns the bar, and that's how she got the job. Her father is always traveling so she basically runs the show. She has an apartment above the bar and she was married but her wife died in a plane crash. Nothing she said could to stop Marc from looking her over again and again. He took in the new information she gave him, but continued to keep an eye locked on her the whole time. She's beautiful.

"I'm sorry about your wife." The apology felt more genuine than the offer for her to come back to his place did. His tone was soft and low, his gaze finally leaving Charlotte for a moment and wandering about the bar. "Would it be bad form for me to ask what her name was?"

“No, not at all. Elizabeth Watson. She was... everything.” She smiles for a moment before shaking her head. “It's been about two years since...the accident. The hardest part is that I don't get to see our...sorry her daughter anymore. Her father moved to Europe and didn't even think to ask me...”she says bitterly as she pours a drink for one of the other patrons. Doing a few fancy bottle flips. Marc's gaze was locked to Charlotte throughout the entire conversation. Even as she moved away and did the little 'party tricks' with the liquor bottles, he couldn't help but keep his eyes on her. She's just so... damn beautiful. As Charlotte finished her explanation, he let out a quiet 'huh', taking a small sips of the whiskey while he thought.

"What was your daughter's name?" He needed to know the man was hooked.

 “Isabella, she’s eight.” She fills up his whiskey again. Before ducking under the bar to grab a picture, she showed him the picture of her an olive skinned dark haired woman with hazel eyes and a little girl who looks about five in the picture with the same dark hair and hazel eyes.  Marc reached out to take the picture, his eyes lingering on the image of Charlotte and of the girl but they landed on the woman most of all.

"Isabella.... That's a beautiful name." He let his gaze wander to Charlotte’s lips before finally taking her whiskey glass and taking a sip.

"What happened?" The more time he spent with Charlotte, the more he grew to like her. There was no turning back now.

“She and I met in flight school. Fell in love, got our pilots licenses together, and traveled the world. When my dad asked me to take over the bar we moved out here to Chicago. She was flying in from Alaska after a job and she ran out of fuel over the Rockies.” She explains as she turns to check out a couple patrons and waves them away. Marc frowned, taking a much bigger sip of his liquor than before.

"Damn, I'm sorry that’s... heavy. Do you fly at all anymore?"

“Yeah I still try to fly when I can. She wouldn't have wanted me to give up on it. I love to fly. Its my true calling. Somehow I ended up back behind this bar but, I really belong up in the sky.” She smiles wistfully looking up for a moment before she sighs and looks at the time before calling last call to the last of the lingering bar patrons. “So what do you do Marc?” The question took him by surprise.

"Uh... I'm a mercenary.”  It felt so out of place to say the words out loud, but he also had no intention of hiding it from her especially considering she didn't seem to even flinch at the answer. That confirmed it for him this girl was dangerous.

“Lilibet and I used to fly Mercs around all the time… I'll admit they weren't usually as cute as you though.” She gives him that half smile and hands him back as his card. “Tonight’s on me Marc. I really enjoyed talking with you. I don't usually get a lot of people who want to talk about me. Most times guys go on and on about themselves, it was nice to be listened to for once.”

Her compliments gave the man a slight blush on his cheeks, and his eyes looked back at her with a slight twinkle in them from the compliment. He tucked his card into his jacket and took a moment to finish off his first whiskey.

"I enjoyed talking to you too. Maybe I can take you flying someday?" He asked, knowing the answer would most likely be no but hopeful anyway.

“How about tomorrow? I was gonna go out and get a little flying over Lake Michigan. If you want to come?” She asks as she waves at the last couple of stragglers that are leaving. “I'll stick to being the one in the pilot’s seat though, Esmeralda doesn't take kindly to being flown by anyone but me.” She chuckled slightly as she starts to close up for the night Marc felt his heartbeat pick up, He nodded quickly and took the final sip of his liquor before placing it onto the counter and pulling out his wallet.

"I'm in."

She grabs a napkin and a sharpie and writes out her number and the address of the place she keeps her plane. “Give me a call when you get to the front gate I'll buzz you in.” She gives him that same half smile. He watches as she expertly pulls herself over the bar landing on her feet. “Sorry but I gotta lock up so I'm kicking you out but... I'll see you tomorrow right?”

"Jesus, she's like a cat," Marc thought to himself when he watched her climb back over the counter. His eyes traveled up and down her body for a moment before he caught himself. She really does have a nice body. He cleared his throat, a sly smile finding itself on his lips as he pocketed the napkin.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Charlotte.”

Masterlist

Next chapter

[nectardaddy]

Foolish [J. Kirstein x reader] 2

language, (of age) drinking

-- Tunes: Supermassive Black Hole ; Muse Gimme More ; Britney Spears

The warm air around the man engulfed him like a blanket, wrapping around him and whisking away any ounce of chill there was. There was a light breeze blowing by as his boots made contact with the ground, grass crunching underneath of him. It was a short walk to your dorm, not even five minutes, but he found himself feeling nervous like a little boy again. He had made this walk more times than he could count on his hands, and each time he gave himself the same nerves over and over. 'What if I fuck it up?' 'What if she only said yes because I was a little pushy, will she ever hang out with me again?' Rattling off 'what if's in his mind as if it were a hobby made his head spin.

Seeing your residence hall now in view, he thought his heart might give out from being so anxious. Though he truly had nothing to worry about regarding you, but he was so deeply unaware of your own emotions. It wasn't as if he was unaware of his own, he was absolutely head over heels for you. But he wouldn't tell for the sole feeling of cold, hard rejection - something he was well aware hurt like hell. Sure, he dappled in the dating scene here and there but nothing else felt quite as right as you and you alone.

With a deep breath, and a silly 'you can do this,' he began his climb up the stairs. Stepping up each and every one felt like ages before he was finally on your hall. Your dorm building was a bit nicer than his own, a bit newer, and a lot more cleaner. Finally stopping at your door, your name sketched in cursive on a blue piece of paper, he took another deep breath. Raking his long hair back, and lifting his hand to knock, he had to pretend he had everything under control.

His knuckles hit the cool wood three times before he heard a muffled 'just come in,' that made his fear melt away. Though every time it happened like this: he would invite you to do something, he would utterly devastate himself with his thoughts on the way over, and everything was fine when he finally saw you. A never ending cycle that gave him whiplash. Twisting the door knob, he let himself in, knocking his boots off by the toe before stepping in.

His eyes meeting yours, his lips pulled into a smile. "Are you ready?" He asked, drinking in your features as he simply couldn't help himself from looking you over.

"I think so?" You asked, rather to yourself than to him. You watched as his eyes traveled down you and back up, making you let out a small breath. "Jeez- I don't look you down like that Jean."

Even hearing his own name fall from your lips made his heart squeeze, an almost suffocating feeling. "Maybe you should," he mused. "I'm pretty damn fine if I do say so myself."

"You're too much," you chuckled, a smile pulling on your lips that made his own widen. "Who's party are we going to anyway?"

"I dunno', Connie just sent me where it is," he shrugged. Rolling your eyes, you looked yourself over a final time. "You look great," he mused. Turning your gaze to him once more he watched as your smile grew a bit more, but also became a little flustered.

"I look tired," you retorted. But he couldn't help but notice you stood a little straighter, felt a bit more confident just from his words alone. He thoroughly enjoyed he was able to have that effect on you, he often times wished he could shower you in compliments. But the risk of scaring you off was too great in his mind.

"Don't we all though?" He asked rhetorically. Turning a bit, but not having his back completely to you, he stepped towards your door. "Now come on, we have a party to go to." He felt his hand touch your waist gently as he ushered you towards the door, immediately second guessing himself but not removing it. In his mind the damage had already been done, if you hated him for it you would've already decided it. He didn't let his hand linger longer, as he didn't want to further his own suffocating feelings, and he dropped it to his side as you went out the door. "It's only a ten minute walk, if that's cool?" He asked, taking a pause from his thoughts, "that way we can both drink and not even worry about who's driving."

With a simple shrug, you looked over at him, "works for me." Jean had a considerable amount of height against you, having to look up a bit just to speak to him. "Please don't let me get too drunk," you pleaded as you walked alongside him. "I have to finish that paper tomorrow."

Giving you a cheeky smile as he looked over to you, he chuckled. "I'll try my best," he assured. "But you have a nasty habit of stealing my drinks." The man couldn't be more right about your bad habit at parties. Often times asking him for 'just a sip' of his own drink and downing the whole thing from drunken lack of control. He really didn't know why he still complied, as you asked almost every time you went out with him. Maybe it was because you asked so sweetly, giving him a smile he simply couldn't resist. Or the fact the man couldn't bear saying no to you.

Rolling your eyes once more, you let out a chuckle. "I don't know what you're talking about," you denied; but wholeheartedly knew for a fact he was right. You knew the man could never say no to you, figuring the charm about him simply wouldn't allow him to. But you also knew the man would never do something nefarious, feeling more comfortable taking his own drink than anyone else's, or even letting anyone else get you a drink. Time and time again, he and a handful of others, have proven their ability in nonchalantly keeping you safe, even if you did slip and make a bad decision.

There was a pause in the conversation as you both stepped outside, feeling a lull that neither of you were particularly irritated with. The air was warm, a warmth that kissed every exposed part of skin you had and made it melt with content. The walk wasn't entirely bad either, being a straight shot to another building. But you rolled your eyes hard upon seeing where exactly the party was, "you aren't taking me to a frat house, are you?"

Sucking in the air through his teeth, he gave you a sheepish smile. "There wasn't many options tonight, and Connie knows people here." His excuse was lame, but one you took with a sigh as you continued walking. "Some of our friends should be here though," he reassured. "I know Sasha went with Connie, so it won't be a drag."

"I need to be drunk to deal with most of the people here," you groaned. You and fraternity houses simply didn't get along. It wasn't the organization that irked you, it was the people who inhabited the house. Most men being sloppy, pushy, and all together a terrible time left a bad taste in your mouth. It really was a mixed bag of people, but most annoyed you beyond belief.

The closer the two of you got to the house, the louder the music that radiated from it became. The juxtaposition of the inside to the out was astounding though; the outside being relatively quiet despite the music and no one lingered, but you could see people from the windows dancing and participating in other drunken activities. You weren't a complete stranger to parties such as this, a little too wild but otherwise still a good time. But you much rather liked smaller get-togethers, a more quant feeling than drunk strangers bumping into you.

Upon entering, the bass in the air made your eardrums hurt, the music all together too loud as you were too sober. The area was crowded, and people your age crammed together so tightly made the air hot and sticky. "Ugh-" you groaned, looking up at the man in discontent. With a smile, he leaned down a bit, reaching your ear so you would be able to hear him.

"I'll get you a drink," he assured, his voice hitting your ear and making you tense. Dark and low like it always was, but hearing it so close made you want to melt directly onto the floor. "We'll find Connie and Sasha after, cool?"

Giving him a nod, you watched as he made his way through people to find any semblance of alcohol. As he disappeared, your eyes flickered over your surrounds and scanned the area. Drunken people dancing on each other, with others, or simply by themselves made you bite your lip. There were way too many people here you didn't know, nor did you really want to get to know. You weren't rude, but certainly standoffish, as you moved to the far corner of the room you were closest to. You felt eyes pierce you, but quickly leave as people passed by.

The place was relatively dark, and the music entirely too loud which made you a bit disoriented. You hoped all would get better when you had a drink and found your friends. But you were pulled from your thoughts as a loud, feminine, voice called for you, "(Y/n)! You came!" The voice yelled happily, seeing as it was a familiar face, you smiled.

"Hey, Sasha," you mused before she pulled you into a strong hug. You had met the woman through Jean, and thoroughly enjoyed every interaction and class you've had with her. Feeling her pull away, you did as well, and watched her smile turn to a grin.

"You're here with Jean right?" She asked, but neglected to give you enough time to answer. She already knew. You had let it slip to her that you liked the man within a drunken stupor, spilling your secrets as if she was an old friend from childhood. But the woman had found it incredibly endearing, and didn't dare tease you on such a thing. "Where's he at?" She asked as her eyes scanned over people before looking back to you.

"Getting drinks," you replied, "we just got here." Your voice seemed quiet, even though you knew you were raising it over the music. You had to lean in closer to the brunette just for her to hear anything you were saying. "Isn't Connie here too?"

"Somewhere around here," she chuckled. "He's already drunk and probably found someone to dance with. Poor soul, I hope they can get over that he doesn't have a lick of rhythm."

Laughing at her words, your eyes flickered to the sea of people. You hoped you would see Connie with his certain lack of rhythm, but sighed when you couldn't. "I hope he starts rapping to them like he did last time."

A howl of laughter left Sasha at your comment. "Holy shit that was so funny! I have a video of it too!"

"Please," you let out another laugh, "send it to me! It's too good!" The woman pulled her phone from her pocket and started scrolling viciously, this woman had pictures and videos of everything imaginable. She saved everything. Pulling out your own phone to make sure you got the video, your attention was taken. But pulled back soon after at a gentle touch to your arm, making you look over.

Brown eyes meeting yours, you sighed in relief at the drinks he was holding. "I made it myself, so be careful," he spoke with a chuckle. Not heeding his advice as you took the cup from him, you took a rather large sip of the drink. Feeling the sting of liquor hitting the back of your throat mixed with strawberry flavoring made you cough. "I told you!"

"Fucking hell, Jean-" you spoke, a laugh now bubbling over. "I think you're trying to kill me." Nonetheless, you took another sip.

[ghostwriter-of-silly-things]

Time To Crawl Into A Hole And Die

Word Count: 2,320

Warnings: um.. cringe writing? (/hj), emetophobia warning

let me know if anything needs to be tagged

Benjamin made a noise, then rolled over. He was lying on one of the less icy couches in the place, using my freshly washed army jacket as a blanket. Although the couch still crunched underneath him. 

  I laughed quietly to myself. "Hey, sleepyhead." I seriously thought I was going to get whacked round the head for that, but nothing happened. Maybe he was too tired. Benjamin opened one of his eyes a crack and looked at me. Then, he closed it again. 

  "What day is it?" Benjamin said blearily, his voice sounding like he had just eaten a load of chocolate. 

  "Still the same day it was when you passed out," I answered. 

  Benjamin rolled onto his back. "Ugh. I'm tired. How am I still tired? This is getting old." I guessed this was more of a rhetorical question, and stayed silent. Benjamin stretched his legs and arms out on the couch and lay there, staring at the ceiling. 

  "So," I began, then realized I didn't have anything to say. 

  "... Yeah," came the flat response. "We haven't been 'destroyed' by the hockey guy yet then?"

  "Apparently not." Silence filled in the gaps in our conversation, if it could even be called that. Muffled noises from the other room joined it, possibly Cal's beloved hockey. He had shown me to a mini laundromat, where I could finally clean my oil-soaked clothes. It was nice to be back in something that didn't crackle when I moved. Also, the detergent smelled good. I had to get the brand they used off of one of them. 

  "Is, uh... this your jacket?" Benjamin asked tentatively, after he'd looked down to assess the new weight he felt on his torso. I answered in the affirmative. "Do you... want it back? I'm fine without it, and we really don't need you getting frostbite right now." Benjamin turned over to look at me, and I couldn't help noticing how much younger he looked like this. It was weird.

  There was also a kind of... pallor to him. Almost sickly. Once you got past how intimidating he was, it didn't look like there was much there. 

  I hadn't recognized it until now, but Benjamin radiated a kind of old energy, like he had had to grow up too fast, and had way too many responsibilities to keep up with. In fairness, keeping me from dying had been a full-time job since we had met. But now, when he was only half awake and not actively trying to repel everyone, it softened. The worry lines on his face had relaxed. He seemed sadder too. That stoic façade he put up was clearly hiding something, and I knew all about that. It was definitely something to do with the death of his family. I knew about that too. And if that's the only family he had apart from his godly parent, again, like me, we must be more similar then he first realized. I stared at Benjamin, as if by doing so I might telepathically gain memories, and wondered what else we had in common. 

  "Hey," I said out of the blue. "Out of interest, how old are you?"

  "Well, I'm... uh.. 16," Benjamin said, then stopped. "What about you?" He said it quieter, as if anyone else hearing him would cause a natural disaster. 

  "I'm 15," I said proudly. After all, I had survived this long without getting brutally murdered by a mythical monster, and without a magic camp. That had to count for something. "Also, yes I would like my jacket back, it's below freezing in here."

  The corners of Benjamin's mouth went up at this. "Can't handle the cold, then, Fire Boy?"

  I faltered. "I -" I didn't take my jacket back yet. I ran hot, obviously, because of the... fire thing, and I could stand the cold better than most, but that comment dropped the temperature by ten degrees. I didn't like to think about the fire, and I hated that nickname. But I cracked a smile. "No, I'm fine, but I need it to complete my carefully constructed outfit. Don't you see how fashionable I am? The grease stains really added to it, but it was getting a little boring." I yanked my jacket off Benjamin, pulled it on, twirled around and posed like a model. "Just look at me. I ooze fashionista vibes, right?"

  Benjamin laughed. Well, more of a half-hearted chuckle, but I didn't really care. I had made him laugh, an achievement in itself. He was half asleep, but it still counted. It was kind of sweet, different than I'd thought it would be - given his normal demeanour. Benjamin's eyes lit up as he laughed, holding a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkled up with amusement. He hardly seemed like the grumpy guy who had kept me from accidentally killing myself a few times the night prior, with random anvils falling from broken or fraying ropes, fire spurting from weird place that I hadn't heard because I was actually focused for once. That was a world away from what was in front of me.

  A world away from stony glares and clipped remarks. A world away from crossed arms and eye rolls. A world away from the weight of everything a demigod had to carry, and even though I was new to this, I knew it was a lot. 

  So I just sat and watched the laughter lines etched on Benjamin's face as they faded and his eyes became heavy and lidded again. I watched as Benjamin scanned the room before settling deeper into his depression on the couch, folding his arms into him in an attempt to stay warm. 

  "Oh shit," Benjamin whispered, eyes wide, and clamped a hand over his mouth as he gagged, miming slowly but frantically for something to throw up in. I hastily grabbed the nearest thing -- a frostbitten vase that was probably more expensive than Cal's entire collection of hockey gear -- and shoved it in the other boy's vicinity.

  He grabbed it, and held it under his mouth while he vomited at least three times over the side of the couch. Groaning, he flopped back onto the couch cushions and wiped his mouth on his hoodie. "I hate this," he mumbled. "So gross."

  Benjamin turned to make eye contact with me. "Thanks."

  We stayed like that for a while, and I didn't want to disturb the moment where I felt like maybe he didn't actually hate me. He'd just been so.. grumpy. Irritable. Cold.

  He was like that with Jason and Piper, too, but it still felt more than a little personal. And maybe it was. Maybe he just disliked me, personally, and honestly I could get why he would. I wasn't the easiest person to be friends with. Maybe he was just like that with everyone. Being a demigod wasn't the easiest life, to say the least, and I'd only been living it a few days. Maybe it was easier to just be angry with the world. 

  But maybe, secretly, he did actually like me. Even just a little bit. And maybe that was a nice thought to hang on to. 

  Benjamin yawned widely, covering his mouth, and his eyes dropped, and a new expression overtook his face. Confusion, shock, but also something else, something I couldn't quite place.

  Then, he spoke, softly, and I almost didn't catch his next words, mumblings of a sleep-addled brain: "You have... nice eyes."

  He dropped asleep again after that, but I heard what he had been trying to hide. There was something so deeply sad in the tone of voice when Benjamin said those words, the sound made my heart ache. It was like he had been talking to someone else. 

  My eyes widened as I processed the words that had so easily tumbled from Benjamin's mouth. Granted, like I had reminded myself over and over in the short time he had been awake, Benjamin was tired, sleep deprived, and in between naps, but that still didn't mean that he hadn't meant it. Did I have nice eyes? They were brown. Normal. No different from most people. But... they were pretty. Maybe. Hopefully. What color were Benjamin's eyes? I should have paid more attention. Should I have?

  But I felt heat spread into my cheeks. No one had ever said anything like that to me before, except my mom... but that didn't count and she was gone. I was reeling. And from such a small thing too. Was this normal? Was I sick? Maybe a cold? Was I delirious? 

  I hoped not. Then my nose caught fire, and I spent a good few minutes trying not to: a) set anything on fire, b) not break anything while panicking trying to put it out, and c) wake Benjamin up during said shenanigans. I knocked a frozen brass pot to the floor, which immediately shattered onto the ice. I was thoroughly startled and opted to sweep it under the couch with my foot, but thankfully Benjamin didn't wake up. 

  I realized, after a few seconds, that I was sat on the Festus Block. I busied myself with unfolding Festus while I waited for Jason and Piper to come back. While also not overthinking anything that was said to me at all. 

When Jason and Piper came back down to the entry hall, Cal, Benjamin and I were waiting for them, Benjamin looking considerably less knocked out and me considerably cleaner. Festus was also awake again, snorting fire over his scales to keep himself defrosted. As I saw the girl again, I couldn't help but to loose all sense of rationality, and all I could think about was her.

  I watched her walk down the stairs, combing my hair back through my fingers in an effort to look more presentable. She was so lovely, and I was convinced I was going to finally get a date. It had to happen sometime, right? Benjamin grunted beside me, probably disparaging at my crush on her. 

  At the bottom step, she turned to Piper. "You have fooled my father, girl. But you when not fooled me. We are not done. And you Jason Grace, I will see you as a statue into he the one room soon enough."

  "Boreas is right," Jason said, his disdain evident, "You're a spoiled kid. See you around, ice princess."

  Her dark eyes flared pure white. For once, she seemed at a loss for words. She stormed back up the stairs, tossing her beautiful shiny hair behind her before turning into a blizzard halfway up and disappearing. To me, it was still beautiful. 

  "Be careful," Zethes warned. "She never forgets and insult."

  Cal grunted in agreement. "Bad sister."

  I couldn't see what was so bad about her. How could someone so pretty be bad? 

  "She's the goddess of snow. What's she going to, throw snowballs at us?" Jason said. 

  I looked, devastated, at the stairs where she had left. "What happened up there? You made her mad? Is she mad at me, too? Guys, that was my prom date!"

  "We'll explain later," Piper promised. 

  Benjamin shifted from foot to foot, and shivered. I had got the impression that he didn't like the cold. I looked over, and saw the stony expression had taken it's space back on Benjamin's face He had folded his hands under his arms in an effort to stay warmer but it was still so cold his breath was visible. 

  I looked back at my friends. Jason looked away from Piper. "Yeah," he agreed. "we'll explain later."

  "Be careful, pretty girl," Zethes said. "The winds between here and Chicago are bad-tempered. Many other evil things are stirring. I am sorry you will not be staying. You would make a lovely ice statue in which I could check my reflection"

  "Thanks. But I'd sooner play hockey with Cal," she responded. 

  "Hockey?" Cal's eyes lit up. 

  "Joking," she said quickly. "And the storm spirits aren't our worst problem, are they?"

  "Oh, no," Zethes agreed. "Something else. Something worse."

  "Worse," Cal echoed. 

  "Can you tell me?" Piper gave them a smile. 

  This time her charm didn't work. The purple-winged Boreads shook their heads in unison. The hangar doors opened onto a freezing starry night, and Festus the dragon stomped his feet, eager to fly. 

  "Ask Aeolus what is worse," Zethes said darkly. "He knows. Good luck."

  He almost sounded like he cared what happened to us, even though a few minutes ago he'd wanted to turn Piper into an ice sculpture. 

  Cal patted Benjamin and I on our shoulders. Benjamin visible tensed up, looking wildly uncomfortable at the sudden touch. "Don't get destroyed. Next time -- hockey. Pizza."

  I had spent a bit watching hockey with Cal after Benjamin had fallen asleep again. It was pretty fun, actually. I did have to watch out for stray limbs. Cal caught my arm a couple times, which would probably bruise. 

  "Come on, guys," Jason stared out at the dark. "Let's go to Chicago and try not to get destroyed."

prev chapter • series m.list • next chapter

[destinyc1020]

Can anons not bring their pessimism for Tom's career here this week? Please we are tired. Just wait and see what happens after the strike is over instead of the constant meltdowns. In fact I'm going to assume an anon that brings it up again is just an anti trying to rile us up. Because if you really enjoy Tom as an actor why are you constantly bringing negative energy to him by always saying that critics and other people in Hollywood hate him with not concrete proof and just vibes? Let Tom live gahtdamn!

I feel like every 5 days we go through this same rhetoric.... 🤦🏾‍♀️

I think some "fans" are just bored or OVERLY ANXIOUS for some reason. 🥴

How do y'all get through life?

[i-feel-strange]

Promise

When you returned home tired, you immediately collapsed onto the bed. An exhausted groan passed through the upholstery of the sofa.

The sound was suppressed, but he still heard it. Jack walked surprisingly quietly, despite his huge, clown shoes. He squatted down and gently stroked your back. The feeling of strong, warm hands on a tired back caused pleasant goosebumps.

-Hard day, huh?

You mumbled in agreement.

- Well, then let me take care of my sun?

It doesn't seem to be a rhetorical question. Slowly turning your head, you looked at him. Jack covered the entire viewing angle, so that you could not see anything but him. The sunny guy was dressed in his usual clothes, except for he was not wearing his vest, but from somewhere an apron appeared, which you definitely did not buy.

Either way, your boyfriend was looking at you expectantly.

-Yes please Jack...

He gladly picked you up in his arms, carried you to your room, and there helped you change into your home clothes. You again rode on his hands to the kitchen and treated you to dinner there.

Already on the couch you were watching some soap opera. Another film about love with a hackneyed plot, but it seemed to Jack that it was interesting - so everything is fine. You stuck to his right side, spreading more and more over his body. Jack would hold you tighter and occasionally kiss you on the top of your head or cheek. You decided to thank him for the pleasant courtship with a kiss. You were so close to each other that nothing seemed to exist except the two of you.You shifted position so that you were on his lap and his hands were on your waist. The air ended and you took some oxygen for a second act.

Thoughts mixed up in my head, he loves you so much, he gives so much warmth, comfort, care and protection. It took you a long time to decide to tell him this tirade, collecting all the phrases of tender feelings piece by piece. And breaking the tenth kiss in a row, she threw out in a hoarse voice all her feelings for Jack:

-Jack, I need to tell you something...

-What is the sun?

He spoke as if he knew what you wanted to tell him. There was a self-satisfied smile on his face. Soft eyes continued to watch your lips eagerly.

You swallowed awkwardly. Come on! You are a couple, he needs to know that you love him.

- Jack... I love you.

-Oh sunshine, I love you too and-

- I didn't finish.

Your lover gave you the opportunity to finish.

-I am telling you this so that you know and do not forget about it. If necessary, I can repeat a thousand times more about how much I love you! You are very dear to me and mean a lot to me. Jack, you give me an insane amount of happiness that I don't think I deserve, but know...

Jack looked at you with bated breath. It seemed to him that if you continue, he will cry with happiness!

-If you feel bad and want to speak out, I will always be there to help you. I not only have a need to receive love and care, but also to give it to you in return.

You put your hands on his face and continued, pulling Jack closer.

- I love you Jack, and I will never leave you, do you hear? I need you.

Joseph couldn't help but cry in your arms. He babbled words of gratitude and love to you as he feverishly kissed your hands.

- It's okay, Jack. You can cry, there's nothing wrong with that, I'm glad that you show your real emotions.

He muttered something unintelligible into your hand and you asked him carefully.

- Do you promise, (Y/N)?

You slightly laughed at his naive question, but decided to answer seriously.

-Yes I promise.

He swallowed hard. This time it's your turn to care. You took napkins and very carefully wiped his tears.

-Sunshine, you are so strong. Even after a strong blow from a loved one, are you not afraid to give me love?

-Jack, giving love and care does not become less, especially if a person is ready to answer you the same. You make me stronger

As you finished wiping away the moisture, you kissed the dried rivers of tears.

He loves you and will never let you go. After all, you love him too, you are perfect for each other. He won't let anyone come between you...

-I love you sunshine.

- I love you too, Jack.

Sorry in advance for possible errors in the text, I use a translator. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it 💮

[masontalo]

«Bridge»

«on…»

- Hey, are you okay? I can feel your anxiety, - Raven said.

Farz now gave some of the control of his body to Raven, but only one eye and mouth.

- Yeah, it's okay. It's just that guy from the cafe. - Farz was talking when Raven interrupted him.

- Can't get out of your head?

- Something like that. Usually these things go away quickly, but this guy's been on my mind most of the time.

He took the jacket and slipped the sleeves into it.

- Yeah, I noticed that. - Raven continued. - What do you think you're going to do about it?

- What can I do about it? Wait for it to go away.

Farz yanked the doorknob and was about to leave.

- Hey, Farz, where are you going? - Sid asked, sitting on the couch eating animal crackers.

- I'm going for a walk. - The man replied.

Sid immediately returned his gaze to his phone and replied simply:

- Okay, bye.

Without answering him, Farz walked out of the apartment, and afterward out of the house. He walked in a random direction.

- What do you think after all? - Raven asked after five minutes of walking in complete silence.

- What's there to think about? Just some random guy Sid pissed off, nothing out of the ordinary. - Farz answered a little irritated.

- I'm surprised he didn't hit him.

- Judging by the reaction, he could have, or even wanted to.

- Maybe he was afraid of the public looks?

- I don't know. Why are we discussing him anyway? Don't we have our own problems?

Raven didn't answer that, feeling a little awkward.

It was the end of the day, and Farse was tired enough as it was. And then there were the questions about the no-name guy.

- It was the first and last time I saw him. - He started talking again. - What's the point of remembering again?

There was only silence from Raven as well. It didn't take an hour for Farse to realize that he had reached the end of the city. He'd been so engrossed that he hadn't felt the distance.

- Have we reached the edge of the city? - Farz asked, as if it wasn't obvious.

- Yes, you're very engrossed in thinking. - Raven replied.

- It was a rhetorical question.

The girl was silent again until they reached the bridge. Before they reached the bridge, Farz stopped, because he saw someone. It didn't confuse him at first and he just kept walking, but as he got closer, he recognized him. It was the guy from the cafe. What's he doing here?

Raven stopped controlling Farz's another eye as he walked over to the guy.

- Are you going to jump? - He asked, walking up to the guy.

The guy turned sharply to Farz, eyes wide open. He obviously hadn't expected such a sudden appearance. But when he got the gist of the question, his eyebrows narrowed and he turned his gaze back to the water.

- No, I'm not. - The guy answered gruffly.

Farz stood beside him, putting his elbows on the railing.

- Why are you standing there, then? - Farz asked.

The guy silently looked under the bridge, Farz looked the same way and saw five people sleeping, apparently drunk or stoned.

- Oh, - was all Farz could say as the guy shifted his gaze back to the water, hands clasped on the railing. - Then why don't you go home?

- I have nowhere to go. - The guy said, pressing his lip together.

Farz raised an eyebrow.

- Really? - He asked.

- Yeah, I live with those bastards, but sitting alone in their house is kind of embarrassing, - The guy replied, lowering his head and the volume of his voice.

Farz thought for a few seconds, looking at the guy, but finally said:

- You don't look like them.

The guy raised his head and looked at Farz with surprised eyes.

- What do you mean?

- Well, you don't look drunk or high. - Farse hastened to explain himself.

He could see the relief in the guy's eyes when he answered:

- I don't do drugs and I don't get that drunk. I've only recently been sold alcohol, though only with a passport.

Farz was already surprised.

- You're twenty-one?

Now they were both looking at each other with wide-open eyes.

- Yeah, what's wrong? - The guy asked.

- You look twelve! - Farz exclaimed.

That angered the guy.

- And you look fourteen!

Farz shut up looking at the guy, the guy did the same looking at Farz. But eventually they just started looking at the water again.

They stood in awkward silence for a while. But Farz decided to continue talking:

- You were pretty pissed off back then.

The guy turned his head toward Farz.

- Then?

- Yes, in the cafe.

- Were you there too? - he could hear the boy's voice getting quieter again.

- Yes, I was there with my friend and..." But before he could finish his sentence, the guy put his elbows on the railing and closed his eyes with his hands.

- I'm so, so ashamed. I got angry for no reason, and-" He fell silent. Either he didn't dare finish or he didn't know how.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, it's okay, it's over. - Farz hurried to calm, or shut up, the stranger.

Silence again. A long and awkward silence. What is there to say? The guy had just tried to shut up and calm down, should he continue to try to apologize or just shut up?

Farz sighed and extended his hand to the guy as if for a handshake.

- I'm Farz Murphy.

The guy took his hands off his face, looked at Farz, and then at his hand. After a second of hesitation, he shook his hand and answered:

- Vayt Black.

- You have an unusual name.

- You have too.

They could quibble like this for a long time. It was partly starting to get annoying, as the awkward pauses would get more and more embarrassing and uncomfortable.

Farz casually looked under the bridge again and saw this drunken company, who would not show signs of consciousness for several more hours. It was unclear why, but he had an idea in his head, which he voiced without thinking:

- Why don't you spend the night at my place?

Vayt's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose.

- What? - he thought he heard him.

Farz realized his mistake, but it was too late to refuse.

- It's pretty late, and you have nowhere to go. Why don't you sleep at my place tonight? - Farz smiled awkwardly while saying that. - I feel sorry for you.

Vayt froze. He said nothing for a couple seconds, trying to formulate a sentence. Farz was beginning to hope he wouldn't agree.

- I'm not bothering you, am I?

"Fuck", - was the first thing that came to Farz's mind. Good thing it wasn't on the tongue.

- I don't think you seem like a calm guy. At least you're calmer than you were then. - Farz said with his hands in his pockets.

Vayt sighed.

- Okay. I promise it's just for one night. I'll leave right away in the morning, - Farz hadn't even asked him to do that, and Vayt had already promised.

- Well, all right. Let's go, then. It's getting dark. - Farz said, turned and walked toward town.

Vayt put his backpack over his shoulder and followed him quickly, as if he was afraid of getting lost. He was trailing a little behind, as if on purpose, as if he was afraid, though not surprisingly, they'd known each other less than an hour. Because Vayt was trailing behind, Farz kept having to turn around. It would be a bad idea to lose sight of him. There was no telling what might happen. They'd file a missing person report, and Farz would be the last person to see him. They'd charge him and put him away. That's the last thing he needs.

- Listen, before we get there... - Farz started to say, turning to look at Vayt. - ... I want to warn you that I don't have any sleeping places in my apartment. There's a bed and a couch, but both are occupied, so...

- Don't worry, I'll sleep on the floor. For me it's not crucial. - Vayt replied with a slight smile.

"Since that's the case, it should be fine. Should I tell him that I also don't have a third blanket and pillow?" - Farz thought a little anxiously.

They walked in silence the whole way, which made the way back seem longer, but Vayt seemed to just stare straight ahead, only occasionally noticing when Farse turned around.

In the elevator, Vayt watched his movements carefully. Once they reached the floor, they entered an unlocked apartment.

- You don't lock the doors? - Vayt asked.

- No, they've been a lot of trouble, - he said.

- Like what?

Farz sighed and answered as politely as possible to the overly curious new acquaintance:

- Maybe I'll tell you next time.

As soon as the door closed Vayt saw Sid asleep on the couch and his face twisted a little in a disgruntled grimace, remembering the incident at the cafe. But that expression quickly faded when Farz turned to him:

- Is everything alright?

- Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry, I was just thinking, - Vayt said, starting to walk deeper into the apartment.

Farz cleared his throat.

- Listen, I'm sorry, I don't have another blanket and pillow....

Vayt started talking quickly again, to calm Farz down, and quietly, to keep Sid from getting woken up:

- It's okay, really. I'll just sleep in the corner of the room, it's fine. Thanks again. And good night. - Vayt finished with a nervous smile. He was still embarrassed.

The apartment was relatively clean, because Raven cleaned it from time to time. But Vayt didn't seem to mind the mess, either. He just sat down against the far wall, took off his sweatshirt, lay down, put his backpack under his head, and then covered himself with the sweatshirt. It was pathetic. But it seemed fine to Vayt. Farz didn't say anything last, just turned off the light and went into his room.

"Weird guy", - he thought as he changed his clothes and went to bed.

It was a long day.

In the morning, at seven in the morning, Farz came out of his room. The first thing that caught his eye was that there was no body in the far corner of the room. This surprised Farz, he looked into the bathroom, but he wasn't there either. In the kitchen it was the same, only there were two plates on the table, which were covered with other plates.

At that moment, Sid walked up to him.

- Why are you standing here? Is something wrong? - He asked.

- No, just...

Before Farz could finish, Sid noticed the plates and came to the table.

- What do we have here? - Sid asked, picking up the plates.

There was breakfast, not surprisingly. Scrambled eggs, sausages, and pan-fried bread. Farz's eyes widened in surprise.

"Those products weren't there." - He thought and immediately went to the fridge. What was left over from cooking Vayt left behind. - "He bought groceries? What time did he wake up?"

- Wow, Farz, you cooked this? Amazing, considering your love of cooking. But why did you cover it with plates? - Sid spoke, turning to Farz.

- I didn't cook it. - He answered and closed the fridge door.

Sid raised one eyebrow and put the two covering plates together.

- You didn't? Who did then? - He asked.

Farz sighed and looked at Sid.

- Remember the guy from the cafe you made piss off?

- The short one like you?

Farz wanted to snarl, but suppressed the urge.

- Yes, that's him, - He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. - His name is Vayt. When I was walking around yesterday thinking about some things, I bumped into him. We got into a dialog and I ended up asking him to spend the night here. You were asleep when we got here. You didn't hear anything this morning?

Sid put two plates in the sink.

- I heard the sound of water running from the faucet in my sleep, but I thought it was you. Did you seriously let a strange guy into your apartment?

He didn't answer, for he didn't know why he'd suggested it or why he hadn't kept his mouth shut. Farz's eyebrows arched. He didn't understand another thing. What had Vayt done it for? He wanted to thank him? He left no note, no phone number. And he washed all the dishes. That's weird.

Sid clapped Farz on the shoulder.

- Well, the best part is you don't have to cook anything. Yes? - he said.

Farz looked at him and smiled a little.

- Yes, that's right.

[baradyke]

allo queers please stop being the whiniest fucking people & acting like aspec people are demanding You Personally stop dating/fucking because we dared to call you out on aphobia. yall sprint to call queer aros & aces homophobic for the lightest critique. im so tired of having alloro people bitching at me like i'm hatecriming them for saying "hey being aro in this community fucking sucks"

well starting off by calling us "queers" isn't a good look 🤡 and yes actually your community DOES frequently imply that gay pda is gross and that we're all just sex-obsessed perverts with no personality outside of our relationship with sex. so yes you're going to get called out on your homophobic rhetoric. your community also loooves lumping us in with cishets and acting like we have the same level of power over you even though we are literally at more of a disadvantage than you. it's like you forget that having gay sex is more demonized than not fucking at all because you spend all your time online and forget how people see us outside of the internet.

so no, it is not the "lightest critique", it's about acting like we're dirty and filthy and sex-crazed for experiencing sexual attraction and creating new labels under that assumption ("i'm [asexual microlabel] because i'm not constantly thinking about sex like those filthy allos!"), making jokes about things like the pulse shooting and aids epidemic ("thank god i'm ace!", "aces win again"), actively distancing yourself by pointing out how much you don't relate to us, and yet claiming that we experience the same amount of oppression (i've seen people say things like aros and aces face MORE oppression than gay and trans people)

like maybe being aro/ace in this community sucks because we have wildly different experiences and aro/ace issues are more tied to misogyny and rape culture than lgbt issues. there's a reason you feel like you don't belong. but you don't want to listen to legitimate criticism, you just want to shout "aphobia!" at every person who brings up legitimate points when you continue spreading harmful rhetoric about the lgbt community while forcing your way into it.

[maga-ad-elbrus]

You know what? Despite the fact that I like the content with the found family dynamic between Wanderer and Nahida. I think we should not forget that Nahida didn't save his life out of kindness. Nahida just didn't want Wanderer to escape responsibility (and partly because archons don't really understand human emotions and act solely from their ideas of right and wrong).

Screenshots from her quest but I believe that she applies this rhetoric to everyone.

And I'm not saying this because I want to spoil someone's fun. I'm just tired of people using this dynamics to once again show how much they hate Ei for being a bad mother and "failure as an archon" (which is actually not true, she really cares about her nation but that's not what this post is about). It's really funny considering that their "poor baby Scaramouche" did things of the same degree of wrongness as his mother. Also Ei was right about Kunikuzushi not being able to hold gnosis. He literally lost it right after he got it in his hands because his emotions took over him during the fight with Traveler. In addition, people who feel sorry for him and complain about such injustice and say that the gnosis should be returned to Wanderer apparently don't wish him well and don't want to see how their supposedly favorite character develops.

I also feel that people are just projecting their parental issues onto him. This intention to infantilize Wanderer and attempts to justify his terrible actions by the fact that he is traumatized and was manipulated annoys me terribly, since Scaramouche was really an interesting villain in both Inazuma and Sumeru (even if his boss fight wasn't as exciting as it was supposed to be) and I really wonder how he will continue to develop as a character. But his stans are really making a joke out of him.

[bitchkay]

5. Zev Avari hours😈😈

Been waiting for this one😈😈

bitchkay's 21st birthday event

CW: [n]sfw😈, fingering, clit stimulation, neck kisses, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, squirting💦

Word count: 688

Yall are probably tired of me writing the same things about Zev over and over but listen... this thought just lives rent free in my head yall I cant get over it, it makes me so crazy😵💫

Zev Avari, who loves touching your pussy.

He's such a giver, he's fiendish about it.

Taking almost any opportunity to make you cum. Over and over again.

It's an insult to his honor if he dosen't fuck you on his fingers before he even gets his dick out. Watching you fall apart in pleasure is like his drug.

And he won't stop until he thinks you've had enough.

“You're so wet~ This all for me?~” Your pussy glistened under the lights in the room as Zev peeled off your panties.

Pulling your back flush to his chest, his hands roamed your body down your hips and thighs as he sat you on his lap.

He kissed the side of your neck as he spread your legs apart, anchoring them over his knees.

“So beautiful…” Zev whispered in your ear as he spread your pussy lips apart.

“Zev..” you whined tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don't tease me.”

“C'mon, let me have my fun, sweets.”

His right hand dipped between your folds, playing in your slippery arousal as his mouth sucked and licked at the side of your neck, his left hand wrapped around your torso, holding your body against his. Your breaths deepened as his fingers circled your clit, the hot bundle of nerves giving an immediate reaction.

“You like that do you?~”

“Ahhn…”

He put more pressure on your clit, as your body jumped hearing your moan.

“Your sensitive little clit likes when I touch it, huh?” Rhetorical question but he smiles hearing your moans and choked words.

You couldn't help but lean back into Zevs chest as he played with your pussy, your body feeling warm as your arousal dripped out of you.

“O-ohh my god…” your voice shook as you felt two of Zev's fingers press inside you, an obscene squelch sounding as you sucked in his fingers.

“Yes… just like that, pretty~ Always taking my fingers so well~” he kissed your warm cheeks affectionately, his fingers curling inside.

“Mmm!”

You wanted to start humping his hand at this point. You don't know how he does it but you're really starting to believe his hands are enchanted or something. Everytime Zev has his hands on you, you can't help but writhe under his ministrations. He really broke you bad. You can't even masturbate normally anymore, it doesn't feel the same. You need him to be able to cum

Thrusting his fingers into you, Zev smiles at the vulgar sounds your pussy made. You were so wet and so sensitive, he couldn't help but want to see more of it.

“Ahhn~ oh fuck-!” You threw your head back as your legs shook, his fingers curing right into your g spot. “Fuck! Fuck I'm gonna cum!”

“Yeah? You're almost there, pretty?~” he repeated the action, his fingers repeatedly bumping your deepest parts.

“Mnnn!” Your body was so close to curling in on itself, if it weren't for Zevs grip on you would've already.

“So good sweets~ You're gonna cum? Make a big mess for me?” Your pussy felt like it was about to burst, you were right on the edge of the drop. Your breathing was laboured and your body twitched as you chased that intense feeling in your lower abdomen.

You could do nothing but babble incoherently as Zev fucked his fingers into you whispering sweet words and dirty talk into your ears coaxing your orgasm out of you.

“Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck! Ahhh!!”

The dam collapsed as you came hard, your body shaking as you creamed around Zevs fingers, also spraying your juices all over his hand.

“There we go, baby~ Cum for me~ You're so messy, sweets~” he removed his fingers from you as you squirted, rubbing your clit to extend your orgasm, your pussy splashing all over his lap.

You had to grab his arm to get him to stop as the overstimulation became too much, finally able to catch your breath.

“Oh god…” you panted, air finally reaching your lungs.

“We're not finished yet, angel.”

“Huh?”

“You better be hydrated because I want to see you do that on my cock next~”

©bitchkay.tumblr.com

Can you tell I was horny when I wrote this

[8bitbabii]

It's exhausting having to wake up in the skin I'm in each day.

Hearing the same racist rhetoric, dealing with people who hate you for no other reason than being born black, or seeing the same types of people being represented in media, but it's like pulling teeth just to see someone that looks like ME in the media. Then, when they do add black characters for "diversity", it just feels so fucking forced and unnatural. Like...you know they didn't WANT to do it. They really DON'T *want* to do it. But, they don't want to deal with those annoying "woke" people.

If you're dating or in a relationship with someone outside your race (particularly of the pale variety), they try to avoid the topic because it makes THEM feel uncomfortable. It's not like I don't feel uncomfortable everyday. It's not like my life hasn't been an uncomfortable experience since I was a baby girl. Nope. Nada. Not at all. 🙃 Because that makes YOU feel uncomfortable even though you never had to deal with it. Bet.

It's mentally fucking traumatizing having to go through this world as a black person. Period. Because everything in this world is tailormade to make us hate ourselves. So little of us is known that even our own people don't know about ourselves. Even Africans center whiteness to some capacity whether it's the beauty standard or just non-black people in general.

I'm TIRED. I'm so exhausted. My partner doesn't get it. There are days when I genuinely WANT to die. He thinks I'm being selfish for thinking this way because then it means I don't love him enough to stay around. I just have to suck it up, put on a fake smile, and pretend like everything is ok. I have to pretend like I'm not sad or that I'm not hurting. I have to pretend like it doesn't matter when IT DOES. It's easy for a white person or a lighter skinned person to say these things when they're the center of everything. They physically and mentally can't comprehend it because they never had to experience it. They tell us to get over it because they'll say it doesn't matter. They say to just "do what you want and not care about what other people think".

It's so EASY for them to say this.

It's even worse when my own people say this among ourselves. And yet, we still center whiteness to some degree. There's still this thing where we tell ourselves that...we should just deal with it. So, all these unchecked feelings stay dormant. Some just cope and deal with it. But, it has been eating me alive.

But, again. It's always THEM centering themselves and our feelings just become an afterthought (if that). I wonder if other black people feel this way. This overwhelming dread of having to wake up everyday and see and hear the same shit. Even if you try to avoid it, it'll find you.

[distinctlyrevived]

In October / I happened upon a newspaper about Vampires and other creatures / In a daze, I read it as thoroughly as I could / As if it had been hand delivered just to me / And for me / I don't remember what it said / I knew only the town it came from / How uncomfortable I felt once I'd read it / I recognize you from light years away / And to you, I was a reason to leave / Did you know / I have only been engaged once / Invited a demon, maybe a ghost to be my date to a wedding? / You probably wouldn't / I have tried to apologize to you and you look down on me from your wretched high horse / If I told you a secret, you would twist it / Claim to be more intelligent / Smarter / Faster / Outrun me / Outfly me / Watch as I invade a strangers home in a dream / Go into a liminal space / And you are always no where to be found / If I told you I could out-test you / A million times over / Never dream of you again / Never want the ring again / While you weep, feign ignorance / I see your fangs. / You cannot claim that you are innocent when you are nothing of the sort. / You wanted to live forever? / Congratulations. / As did I. / A rhetorical question: Would you cry if I told you the truth of all of my friends? / Would you cry if you had realized you would have been so lucky to have even known me? / Am I just another poem to you? / Another dollar in your pocket? / Instead of thinking that I am using you / Consider that you are used to manipulation and high living / Know not what I have done and continue to do / I can rewrite entire histories in front of you / And people would still wonder if I still loved you. / I am more sorry than I am of loving you. / Love is a bountiful emotion I am growing tired of having. / You appear to feel the same. / I pray to all my higher powers that you will stop changing for others / Love yourself / I want to have another sit down chat with your mother again. / She seemed to have a good grasp on the situation. / But I'm tired of leaving everything up to chance / I got to lay in bed with my childhood best friend and fall asleep for just one night / And I did not cry. / That is what heaven feels like, to me / Finding everyone and everything / In the places I had least expected.