#but i was talking to a friend earlier and the question of what is the world called came up

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐁𝐀𝐅 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄)

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Summary: Luna talks about what a friend of hers thinks about Noah.

The three of you were on the couch after having dinner. The night outside was quiet, and the only sounds in the house were the hum of the heater and the faint rustling of Luna’s tiny feet kicking against Noah’s leg as she settled comfortably in his lap, and the soft hum Neki made as he slept at the foot of the couch.

You sat beside them, your legs tucked up under you, enjoying the easy, quiet comfort of the evening.

Luna was already in her pajamas, a mix of pink and purple, smelling faintly of soap and lavender after her bath. She played absentmindedly with the fabric of Noah’s hoodie, twisting it in her small fingers before suddenly looking up at him with those big brown eyes.

“Daddy,” she started, tilting her head slightly. “Today Lily said you look scary, when she saw you.”

You saw the way Noah’s expression faltered just slightly, the way his fingers hesitated in the soothing circles he was rubbing against Luna’s back.

Noah had always known that his appearance wasn’t exactly… the one of a "conventional dad", and the fact that he was covered in tattoos and mostly dressed in black didn't really help.

The first few times he had taken Luna to preschool, he had felt the weight of every judgmental stare from the other parents, especially the moms. They had looked at him like they already knew what kind of father he was, like his inked skin, the fact that he was a musician and that Luna didn’t have a mom, let them know everything they needed to assume.

And maybe he had imagined some of it, but he was pretty damn sure he hadn’t imagined the way conversations quieted when he stepped into the room, the way some of them pulled their kids just a little closer when he walked by.

One day, you had joked, "Don’t go flirting with the moms when you drop Luna off."

Noah had scoffed, shaking his head as he adjusted the little purple bow on Luna's head. "Yeah, no danger of that. They probably all hate me."

Now he exhaled softly, trying to keep his voice casual. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “Do you think I look scary?”

Luna blinked at him, clearly confused by the question. Then, without hesitation, she shook her head. “No,” she said simply, like it was the silliest thing in the world. She leaned against his chest, pressing her tiny hands against his hoodie, as if trying to make her point even clearer. “You look like my daddy.”

Noah let out a slow breath, his arms instinctively tightening around her small frame.

You watched him closely, seeing the weight lift off his shoulders even if he wasn’t fully aware of it. You knew Noah thought about these things more than he let on—how people saw him, how parents at Luna’s preschool sometimes gave him wary glances. You had seen the tension in his shoulders when he stood outside the classroom, waiting for Luna, as if he was always preparing for someone to look at him the wrong way.

But Luna didn’t see him like that. She never had.

You remembered what happened when Noah went to pick up Luna from preschool a month earlier, Noah had explained everything.

He’d been running late that day, caught in traffic, his fingers drumming anxiously against the steering wheel as he’d tried not to think about how much he hated being late. By the time he’d parked and rushed inside, most of the other kids had already been picked up, leaving Luna sitting on a small chair near the front desk, swinging her legs as she’d clutched her backpack.

When she’d seen him, her face had instantly lit up. “Daddy!” she’d called out, sliding off the chair and hurrying toward him.

But before she could reach him, one of the teachers had stepped in front of him, stopping him with a hesitant look.

“Sir, I’m going to need to see some ID,” she’d said, her voice polite but firm.

Noah had frowned, glancing between her and Luna, who had already been reaching for him. “What?”

“I just need to confirm that you’re her father,” the teacher had explained, shifting uncomfortably. “We have to be cautious, you understand.”

He’d understood the importance of safety, of course he had. But the way she had looked at him—like he was some stranger trying to take a kid that wasn’t his—had made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“I’m her dad,” he’d said, keeping his voice steady as he’d crouched down to Luna’s level, placing a reassuring hand on her back. “Luna?”

Luna had blinked up at him, clearly confused. “You’re my daddy,” she’d said matter-of-factly, like it had been the most obvious thing in the world.

Noah had looked back at the teacher. “There. Can I take my daughter home now?”

The teacher had still hesitated, her gaze flicking over him—taking in the tattoos covering his hands and neck, the dark clothes, the sharp contrast between him and the tiny, pink-clad girl at his side.

“Sir,” she’d said again, her tone softer this time but still firm, “I really need to see some identification.”

Noah had clenched his jaw but he had walked back to his car, taking the wallet, leaving a confused Luna looking at him. He’d flipped it open and shown his ID, and after a few moments of scrutiny, the teacher had finally nodded.

“Alright,” she’d said, forcing a small smile. “Thank you for understanding. You can take her home now.”

He hadn’t said anything. He’d just scooped Luna up into his arms, holding her a little tighter than usual as he’d walked out of the building.

“Daddy?” Luna had murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Why did she ask that?”

Noah had swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s nothing, Lu,” he’d murmured. “Let’s go home.”

But even as he’d strapped her into the car seat and started the drive home, the feeling had stayed.

He’d known he didn’t look like the typical dad. He’d known people made assumptions. But he’d hated that, even for a moment, someone had looked at him and thought he wasn’t hers.

Now, still sitting next to him, you reached out, gently running your hand over Noah’s arm. He glanced at you briefly, and you gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“I just don’t want your friends to be scared of me,” he admitted quietly, mostly to himself.

Luna, who was already getting sleepy, rested her head against his chest. “Why?” she mumbled.

“Because…” He hesitated, exhaling through his nose. “I don’t want them to think I’m mean. I don’t want people to look at me and think bad things.”

Luna was quiet for a moment, then she sighed dramatically. “You’re not mean,” she said, as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. “You’re nice. And you give good cuddles.”

Noah let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Oh yeah?”

She nodded against him. “Mhm.” Then, after a pause, she added, “And you’re my best daddy.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, warmth blooming in your chest at the way Noah’s expression softened completely.

He pressed a kiss to her hair, holding her a little closer. “You’re my best Luna,” he whispered.

She giggled, already half-asleep against him.

After a couple of minutes, she suddenly shifted, sitting up just enough to place her tiny hands on his cheeks.

“Yes. You’re cuddly,” she announced, squishing his face between her small palms.

Noah blinked at her, lips pressing together under the pressure of her hands. “Am I?” His voice came out slightly distorted, making Luna (and you) giggle.

“Mhm,” she nodded seriously, keeping her hands there as she studied his face. “Soft.”

You chuckled beside them, watching the way Noah let her do whatever she wanted, no trace of protest in his expression. It was almost funny, how easily this little girl had him wrapped around her tiny fingers.

“Soft?” Noah repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Lu, I have a stubble.”

Luna just giggled again, letting go of his face only to wrap her arms around his neck. “Still cuddly,” she mumbled into his hoodie.

Noah huffed a small laugh, wrapping his arms around her. His eyes met yours for a second, and you could see it—how much he loved her, how much these tiny moments meant to him.

And as Luna snuggled back into his chest, sleep slowly creeping in, you couldn’t help but smile.

You leaned into Noah’s side, resting your head against his shoulder. “She’s right, you know,” you murmured, “you're nice. And give great cuddles. And you're the best dad and boyfriend ever.”

He sighed, but it wasn’t a heavy sound, it was lighter, like something had finally settled in him. “Yeah,” he admitted, glancing down at the tiny girl in his arms. “I hope you both are.”

You stayed in silence for a while, then, eventually, Noah sighed softly. “Alright, Lu,” he murmured, shifting carefully so he could stand up without waking her completely. “Time for bed.”

Luna let out a sleepy little whine but didn’t protest as he carried her to her room. You followed, stepping ahead to pull back the covers on her small bed. Noah laid her down gently, and you both worked together to tuck her in.

You reached for Mr. Flop, and placed it next to her. Luna instinctively curled an arm around it, her eyes fluttering open just enough to look at the two of you.

“No story?” she mumbled.

Noah chuckled softly, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. “It’s too late for a story tonight, princess.”

You crouched beside the bed. “We’ll do a double story tomorrow, okay?” you promised, your voice gentle.

Luna considered that for a moment, then gave a tiny nod. “Okay.”

Her eyes drifted closed again, her breathing evening out as she snuggled deeper under the blankets.

Noah leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Lu.”

With one last glance to make sure she was settled, Noah turned off the small nightlight beside her bed, and the two of you stepped out, carefully closing the door behind you.

Noah turned to you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Double story, huh?”

You shrugged. “Had to make it up to her somehow.”

He hummed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked toward the bedroom. “Guess I’ll have to think of a good one.”

Once inside, you both changed into more comfortable clothes, Noah stripping off his hoodie and swapping his sweatpants with some more comfortable, while you slipped into one of his old t-shirts.

You climbed into bed and Noah slid under the covers beside you, immediately pulling you close. His arms wrapped around you, his body warm against yours. You let out a content sigh, nuzzling into his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just enjoyed the quiet, the safety of being wrapped up together.

Then, softly, Noah murmured, “She really doesn’t see me like that, does she?”

You shook your head. “Nope. She sees her dad. The guy who makes her pancakes shaped like bunnies, who carries her on his shoulders when her legs get tired, who sings her lullabies with the softest voice ever.”

Noah let out a soft breath, his arms tightening around you. “Guess that’s all that matters.”

“It is,” you murmured. “That’s what makes you a good dad.”

He didn’t answer right away, just pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Then, in a voice quieter than before, he said, “Thank you.”

“Love you.” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“Love you too.” he mumbled, his voice low and sleepy, "Goodnight."

Just as you drifted off, the faintest sound of paws padding across the floor reached your ears.

Neki, moving like a shadow, hopped up onto the bed, curling up at your feet with a satisfied sigh.

"Goodnight Neki." You murmured.

"Did you just say goodnight to the dog before me?"

You grinned, eyes still closed. "Ops."

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08

TBAF Tags: @klutzy-kay24 @mrscevans @concreteangel92 @iconic-taurus @niicoleleigh @cheyyyyr @supersquirrel1996 @respectfulrebel @clickmedead @whenyouwannafindlove @kenjipepsi1

[gloomwitchwrites]

Task Force 141 Masked Metal Band AU x Backup Singer Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Part Two of Second Act

At the afterparty, Simon confronts you. You run to Lena for safety. During a game of pool, Simon makes you an offer.

Chapter One // Chapter Three

ao3 // main masterlist // second act masterlist

“Thought I recognized you.”

His voice is living memory, sending you down, down, down into a tangled web of barbed wire. You cannot shake it off or crawl out of it. The metal digs in. You’ll have to tear it from your flesh. Draw blood.

You were right to question why the drummer paused when exiting the stage. It was Simon, and he recognized you. The fact that you’re here only confirms whatever suspicion he had earlier.

But it’s not just him—not only him.

There are three others, watching at a distance, their gazes drilling into the back of your skull. Maybe it’s a small grace that you cannot see their expressions. Simon’s presence alone is already suffocating.

Signing those contracts to join Lechery on their North American tour was a new beginning. Now, you’re a trapped animal, realizing that it’s surrounded by predators. Simon is not a stranger. The other three band members are not strangers.

Worse yet, this is worst possible time for him to show up.

It’s not the right place. Not the right fucking situation.

But you cannot run from this. There is no retreat. The exit is on the far side of the room, and everyone in attendance would notice if you suddenly bolted.

Cruelty. Nothing else describes it.

Fate is playing a trick, circling back to the choices you made all those years ago, smashing your face into the door as it shoves you through it.

“This is—” Your voice catches in your throat, nearly choking you. Even your lungs betray you. “A surprise,” you manage.

A creeping numbness enters the tips of your fingers as if you’ve been standing outside in the cold for too long. With it comes an urge to shake out your hands, the muscles in your arms itching for release.

The corner of Simon’s mouth quirks with a hint of a smile. It’s such a familiar gesture that your heart momentarily flutters, remembering all the times he’d give you that one little look while never giving it to anyone else.

“That’s one way to put it,” he muses.

You inwardly flinch.

There’s too much meaning in his words, and yet not nearly enough. Years have separated the two of you, have separated you from the all of them. There’s little reason to hope that they’ll greet you like an old friend. If anything, they have the right to demand answers—to demand to know why you up and left.

With as much casualness as you can muster, you cross one leg over the other, resting your hands between your thighs. “It’s been a long time.”

It’s a stupid thing to say. Of course it’s been a long fucking time.

Simon’s mouth turns downward in a slight frown. His lips part, but instead of speaking, he inhales. As if changing his mind, Simon shifts his attention from you to Olivia.

“Am I interrupting?”

Now you ask.

“Yes,” you reply automatically just as Olivia says, “No.”

Your head snaps in her direction, eyes growing large. Olivia sheepishly brings her drink to her lips, taking a long sip.

It’s best to salvage this. And by salvage, you mean scrap it all together.

“Olivia and I were having a chat. I could come find you later?” you offer.

Take it, Simon. Fucking take it.

Olivia pops up off the sofa. “It’s fine,” she says brightly, some of that West Virginia accent seeping through. “You can take my seat.”

You want to strangle her. What the fuck is she doing?

“Thanks, love,” grins Simon as Olivia steps to the right to move out of his way.

As he slides by her, Olivia nods her head in Simon’s direction. “Talk to him,” she mouths. You give a little shake of your head. Olivia holds her cup up to her face, blocking her mouth from Simon’s view. “You’re welcome,” she says silently, slipping away to mingle.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

All the sound in the room suddenly becomes a roar, the lights far too bright. Your vision swims, and then it all narrows quickly as if you’re experiencing the world through the end of a straw.

It’s your name that snaps you back to reality.

Your name. From Simon’s lips.

He drapes an arm over the back of the sofa, body turned toward you with clear familiarity. This is not two strangers introducing themselves. Simon leans forward in an almost intimate manner, like he’s known you all your life.

But he does know you, doesn’t he?

The two of you may be separated by years but there was a time when your entire life revolved around him.

And not just him.

There was Johnny. Kyle. John.

Each of them an individual anchor. Then all together, changing you, shaping you until it became too much, and you dashed from them like a sprinting deer.

The mellow, overhead lights twinkle in Simon’s brown eyes. “You’re our backup singer.”

“One of three,” you correct.

Simon inclines his head. “Did you know?”

“That you were Lechery?” Simon nods and you shake your head. “Of course not. Think I’d accept if I did?”

“Don’t know, dove. Didn’t say much when you left.”

I didn’t say anything.

You exhale slowly, attempting to calm your nerves. “Congratulations by the way.” You gesture vaguely at the room. “On your success.”

“Thank you,” murmurs Simon. “It’s a change from when we first met.”

That’s an understatement. When you first met him, it was at a punk show in London. You were blitzed out on gin and tonics and Simon was just a masked stranger to you. A brooding, balaclava wearing beast of a man that you saddled up to and flirted with incessantly. The two of you went to his flat, and once there, you pounced on him. And when his bandmate, Johnny, came home, he joined in. The three of you went at it until the sun came up.

That was before you met the other two housemates. When they arrived, they wormed their way in, and suddenly it was no longer just you, Johnny, and Simon.

Three months of the four of them. Of the five of you.

Years have spawned since. Of course things have changed.

“Still living in that little flat in South London?”

“No. Building is gone.”

“Oh?”

Simon cocks his head. “They built a hospital.” He shrugs. “The area needed it.”

The two of you lapse into a stretching quiet. Conversation is difficult, and it’s not just because you’re a goddamn nervous wreck. The Simon you knew then was tall and muscular, but still had a boyish air to him. This Simon is a man. He almost appears taller somehow. His chest and shoulders are broader, taking up far too much space. You feel eclipsed by him. Smaller. Fragile.

Which is silly. Absurd.

You’ve never felt like that around him, nor any of them. Vulnerable, yes. But never insignificant.

He oozes darkness. Danger. Temptation.

When you first met him at that punk show all those years ago, you felt it then, too, but there was something more chaotic about it. Like a Molotov cocktail sort of frenzy, where now it’s large and looming and suffocating like pure darkness.

If you were to let him in again, Simon would swallow you whole.

“With all the money you have now, I’m sure you’re in something much nicer.”

Simon chuckles. “I have reliable heat now. That’s something.”

“Because the heat actually works? Or because you can afford it?”

This time Simon’s chuckle is a hearty laugh. “Got me there.”

A hesitation rises in your throat. Speaking with Simon again, having him near you like this, is warming parts of you that long went cold. Keeping him on this sofa might be the thing you need—but it will also lead toward a conversation you have no interest in having.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you murmur. “You’ve only just got here. I’m sure there are people who want to talk to you.”

“They can wait,” he says automatically.

From his tone, there is little room for discussion.

“I’m not important. In fact, I was invited here out of kindness.” This party isn’t for you. It’s for Lechery, and for everyone who made the European tour a success. “You should…mingle.”

It’s a meager rebuttal, and Simon knows this.

He leans forward a bit, closing the space between you. His gaze is so piercing, so primal, you’re pinned to the cushion, unable to move or think or speak.

“We’ve been waiting. I’ve been waiting. Years. Fucking years. Not a word. Not even a glimpse of where you’d gone or what happened to you.”

“Simon—”

“Don’t,” he says sharply. “I should be angry.” His gaze drops to your lips. “But all I want to do is kiss you.”

Your lips involuntarily part, and Simon groans lowly, his brow softening as he leans in a bit more.

“I have to go,” you whisper, drawing back at the last second. “Promised Lena a round of pool.”

As you scoot back, Simon’s arm darts out, his large hand grasping your bare thigh. It is a brand against your skin—a reminder of his touch, and that only sparks a fire in your core. His hand slides inward toward your pussy, moving higher up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress up until it bunches tightly over your lap. He drags you right back to him.

“And you promised us you’d never leave,” he replies, that assertive darkness returning. “But you did.” A crease forms in the middle of his brow. “You did.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you hiss.

Glancing over Simon’s shoulder, you observe the rest of the room. Most people aren’t paying you any attention, but a few nearby partygoers keep looking your way. But as your gaze sweeps over the crowd, you find them.

Johnny and Kyle are no longer near the bar. They’ve moved closer to you and Simon, and it’s clear that Johnny wants in on whatever’s being said, but Kyle is holding him back. John is still at the bar, a full glass of whiskey in hand, staring off into space like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Why not?” he asks, and there is genuine concern in that question.

I can’t tell you. It hurts too much.

“Let me go, Simon,” you whisper, knowing that you don’t sound strong. Only broken.

Simon’s hand remains on your thigh. He glances down at it. Easing up on his grip, Simon lightly caresses your skin with his thumb. You shiver, pussy clenching. Like a snake encircling its prey, the desire for him slithers around and between your bones.

“Just say it. And we’ll go.”

Simon gently squeezes your thigh again, and this time, you have to stifle a moan.

“I can’t,” you breathe.

The words hurt. They’re a daggered edge. As much as your body and mind crave him, your heart isn’t in it.

Simon’s grip eases, and you scoot away from him, smoothing your dress as you stand. He stares up at you, mouth a thin line, face grim. You can’t even gather enough strength to say goodbye.

Moving around the other side of the sofa, you aim right for Lena. She’s chatting up Rudy, the man Alejandro spoke to earlier when he couldn’t find his phone.

“Sorry to cut in,” you say with forced cheeriness. “But I need to borrow Lena. We were going to play a round of pool together.”

“Were we?” she asks slowly, side-eyeing you.

You turn your fake smile on her. “Yes,” you emphasize through gritted teeth.

Rudy beams. “Course.” He winks at Lena. “I’ll find you later.”

As Rudy starts to walk away, you link your arm in Lena’s, pulling her tightly against your side. Your gaze darts everywhere, scanning the room to make sure the members of Lechery don’t appear from thin air.

“Bitch, you better be joking,” she deadpans.

“We’re playing pool.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “I suck at pool. And why are you looking around like that?” Lena glances around too, her mouth turned downward in a frown. When she finds nothing of interest, she turns her attention back to you. “You look neurotic.”

“It’s Simon,” you whisper.

“And?” she prompts.

“And what?” Lena lifts her hand and waves it in a “go on” gesture. “We talked.”

“Very helpful,” she retorts. “And what did you and Simon talk about?” Her slightly annoyed expression becomes devious. “I saw the way he was looking at you.”

She waggles her eyebrows and you groan. “If we don’t start playing pool right now, he’ll know I lied.”

Lena bursts out laughing. “Was the conversation that bad?”

“Not…exactly,” you mutter, tugging on her arm, trying to herd Lena toward one of the pool tables.

“I don’t understand. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t good either?”

“Yep,” you reply, tugging a little harder.

“Okay, ow. Girl, chill.” Lena comes to a dead stop and you nearly topple forward. “What did he say?”

You give the room another once-over. At first, you think you’re in the clear, and then you spot Simon just a few feet away deep in conversation with Johnny.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “They’re right there.”

Lena holds up a hand. “Stop. You’re acting weird.” When you don’t answer right away, her concern becomes rage. “What the fuck did he do?”

“Lena—”

“I will beat his ass.” You give her a bland look, and Lena sighs loudly, her rage melting away to bemused irritation. “Fine. I won’t fight him.” Her lips purse. “But I might accidentally spill a drink on him.”

“The conversation was fine. Just—” You chew on your bottom lip. “Not one I was expecting.”

Lena’s brow softens. “You haven’t seen him in years. And it’s not like you knew.”

She knows parts of what happened that summer, but she doesn’t have all the pieces. Of what she does, your reasons for fleeing isn’t one.

“No,” you agree. “I didn’t.”

You should consider the information a blow. Like a punch to the face, you’ve been thrown into a fight headfirst without any prior warning. Simon might have been the one to approach you tonight, but the others eventually will. There is an entire tour ahead of you. They will have every opportunity to bring it up.

Tour aside, you’ve signed on with 141 Music Group. There is little room for you to suddenly back out and turn tail. The ink is dried. The contracts signed and finalized. Breaking contracts isn’t unheard of, but you’d be screwing yourself financially. You’d also be putting Lena and Olivia in a tight spot. While each of you signed your own individual contracts, the three of you also signed one together as a trio.

You can’t just up and leave.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you admit, voice deflating like a popped balloon.

Lena’s face falls. She unlinks her arm from yours only to go in for a hug. “It’ll be fine. You have me. You have Olivia.” Drawing back, she places her hands on your shoulders. “All you need to do is be professional and do your job.”

“I know.”

“Fuck them,” she smiles, and then, with a sultry purr, “or fuck them.”

“Lena, I swear,” you mutter as she cackles.

Draping her arm over your shoulder, she turns toward the pool table. “Let’s play this god-awful game.”

It isn’t long before one of the tables opens up. Lena takes the lead, jumping in and taking the offered cue sticks. She hands one to you, and takes the other. Leaning yours against the pool table, you remove the billiard balls and set them on the tabletop.

As you start to straighten your spine, mind elsewhere, you don’t realize Simon is standing next to you until you nearly knock into him. You stagger backwards, but Simon is lightning quick, wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you on your feet.

“Don’t fall,” he chides with a cheeky grin.

The back of your neck flares hot. A snarky retort simmers on your tongue but you swallow it back.

“Thank you,” you reply, tone cool.

Simon’s arm lingers a few seconds longer before slowly retreating. It’s incredibly languid. Nothing hurried about it. All of these people around and Simon has zero shame. Is he doing this on purpose? Does he want you uncomfortable?

Lena saddles up beside you. She leans against her cue stick, one eyebrow arched at Simon. “We’re about to start. Need something?” Her tone sends a clear message.

Simon crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m playing winner.”

Damn it.

The winner will be you. Lena couldn’t play pool to save her life.

She makes a little sound of disapproval in the back of her throat. “Are you good with that?” she asks you, turning slightly in your direction.

No. It’s not fine.

“Perfectly,” you lie.

It’s the only answer you can give. A small crowd is forming, and the last thing you want to do is cause a scene.

As Lena shrugs and starts placing the billiard balls into the triangle rack, Simon’s hand lightly brushes over your lower back as he passes behind you. When you turn toward him, he doesn’t glance in your direction. He heads for Johnny, the two men taking up post against the wall.

Johnny’s gaze is intense—hardened. You’re not sure what he’s thinking. Which is so strange because he’s always been the most open of the four. He never could hide anything from you, and yet, you could never hide anything from him.

Lena grabs the sides of the triangle rack. She rocks it back and forth, bringing it to a stop. Removing the rack, she sets it aside, placing the cue ball in its starting point.

As you line up to make the first shot, your gaze flicks over to Simon and Johnny. Kyle has joined them, and he’s watching you right back.

Glancing away quickly, you go for it, striking the cue ball and sending it into the billiard balls. They scatter. You move into position again, sending your intended ball toward the pocket. It strikes the side just shy of the opening, moving away from the pocket and in the opposite direction.

“Your turn,” you say to Lena, stepping away.

You don’t dare glance in their direction. Sure, you could botch the game, play so poorly that Lena has to play Simon, but it would be obvious to everyone that you did. That’s how bad Lena is.

A few more turns and you completely have this in the bag. It’s not even negotiable at this point. Every time Lena strikes the cue ball and it misses her intended target, she winces. It’s followed by her giving you a sympathetic expression. She knows. She understands. At least, in some part.

It isn’t much longer before it’s called. Lena didn’t hit a single ball.

“Sorry,” she whispers just as Simon approaches.

He holds out his hand and Lena places the cue stick in his open palm. As she walks away, Lena glances over her shoulder, offering you a look of reassurance. She might not be beside you, but she has your back.

“Think we should up the stakes,” says Simon casually.

“How so?” you ask, pointedly looking away from him to fuss with the billiard balls.

Using his cue stick as a support, Simon leans in. “A bet, if you will.”

“Do enlighten me.”

Simon licks his lips. “If you win, I’ll let the matter rest.”

“That’s generous of you.”

“And if I win,” he continues, that wicked smile of his returning. “You’re mine for the next three days.”

You drop the billiard ball you’re holding. It hits the tabletop with a loud thwack.

“I’m—” A nervous laugh escapes you. “What?”

“Three days,” he repeats. “For three days, you belong to me.”

You glance over his shoulder. Lena is staring, open-mouthed at the back of Simon’s head. Kyle and Johnny are listening intently, both of them slightly pushed off from the wall like they want to come over and join the conversation. John is still nowhere in sight, but you don’t look for him. Simon’s presence is far too consuming, and you won’t back down.

“Okay,” you breathe. “Three days. And then what?”

Simon’s voice shifts to a sultry swagger. “You’ll do what I tell you. Without question.”

You snort. “Not interested.”

“Don’t lie to yourself, love,” he croons. “I felt you shiver when I touched you. Heard the groan you made.”

You hear Lena choke on her drink, spluttering slightly as she clears her throat.

“Simon,” you warn.

“Don’t deny yourself,” he growls.

An insistent voice within you begs you to take it, to accept and lose on purpose because deep down, you’ve missed him all these years.

Don’t deny yourself.

For three days, you belong to me.

“Three days?” you ask.

“Three,” he confirms. “And it starts when I win.”

“If you win,” you correct.

Simon’s smile is cocky. “We have a deal then.”

You nod and back away. Simon allows his gaze to linger on your body. It roams up and down, soaking in every inch. The look is devouring. Primal. You’ve seen that look on him before. Countless times in fact, and always just before he fucked you.

Simon sets the table, adding the billiard balls to the triangle rack. He rolls them, removes the rack, and takes one solid step back, observing his work.

“You break,” he says, nodding toward the pool table.

“Sure about that?”

“I insist.”

You line up your shot, striking the cue ball. It shoots forward, cracking against the billiard balls, sending them in all directions.

You slowly straighten your spine, giving Simon a silent dare. He’s not looking at the balls at all, but at you, and there is something lingering behind that stare. A bit of your confidence chips away, and then it shatters completely when Simon takes position.

With one shot, he knocks three balls into the pocket. Fucking three.

This time, you’re not smiling. Simon is going to win this. Easily. It’s funny that you thought you even had the chance. Which is fucking insane. Sure, you’ve seen Simon play but he was never this good.

It takes no more than a few turns. Simon sweeps the floor with you, never giving you a fair chance.

He knew he’d win. He fucking knew.

The bastard.

You want to rage, to feel frustration and anger in equal measure, to lash out at him for clearly tricking you.

But there is no animosity. The two of you made a deal. You agreed to this.

As the final ball rolls into the pocket, your gaze sweeps across the pool table. Simon is still bent forward from his shot. He’s not watching the ball at all. He’s watching you.

Simon grins, victorious.

taglist:

@lifelongdiscount @yansouleater @goodbyegh0st

@glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @glassgulls @greeniegreengreen

[aliwritex]

DO I WANNA KNOW? pt2 fc43

summary: franco realizes he wants more.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: 18+, pinv, oral, fingering and everything, L word obv. i did not read this through very well

Franco was acting different, you knew that, all your friends knew too. The thing was that they knew why but wouldn’t tell you. You tried making your friend talk multiple times but she would budge, you were starting to think it was something bad. Maybe he wanted to end your little arrangement and didn’t know how to, maybe you had done something wrong or maybe he just wasn’t into you anymore.

You started to keep your distance, you didn’t want him to be forced to hang out with you and maybe if you eased out of your situationship then there wouldn’t have to be an actual conversation or ‘breakup’.

And as far as situationships go, you were driving each other insane. All your friends were watching closely, it was funny really. You both thought they didn’t know about you but they had found out the same night when you ended up sleeping in the guest room before he snuck out in the morning. The – not so – subtle questions you’d ask only gave them more insight of what you two had going on. Questions like “Is she seeing someone?” or “do you think he’s been acting weird?” were being thrown and discussed in a group chat without you two.

On one side Franco had just started to feel confident enough in your relationship to confess, tell you that he wanted more. But it was making him nervous. On the other side, you were completely misreading his nervousness as something else, like he wasn’t enjoying being with you. In your defense he had gone soft on you twice because of his overthinking.

“I know we talked about you coming over tomorrow but turns out I have plans” you lied as he came back from the bathroom.

“Oh? Okay.” he tried to understand but didn’t miss the weird way you brought it up “Can I still sleep over, though? Don’t wanna drive back home. Tired”

Franco left the next morning and you didn’t talk that weekend or the week after that. And the next time the group got together you said you couldn’t make it, you would be studying for a test – which was true – but that night Franco took the opportunity to talk to your friend.

“Tina, do you think she has been acting different lately?”

“Oh, god, you will drive each other insane.” she said, taking a sip of her drink “We know you’ve got something going on so please just tell me so I can help”

So there he was, sitting in a booth in the club boring Tina to death as he told her everything he deemed important about your relationship.

“Look,” she spoke when he finished, “from what I’ve gathered, she thinks you’re not into her anymore and to be fair I’m guessing you’re the guy that went soft on her twice.”

“She told you? I was- I don’t have to explain myself to you” he realized.

“Didn’t ask you to. Franco, the point is, I think she’s really into you and you should do something about it because she’s trying to push you away”

“How could she possibly think I’m not into her? I’ve been throwing myself at her for over a year!” he was genuinely surprised and couldn’t understand how you came to that conclusion.

“Then maybe keep doing it, okay? She says you’ve been acting different, I get it that you’re nervous about telling her but you can’t let that affect your performance, darling, apparently that’s all your relationship is based on”

“I hate you. Why would she tell you that?” he whined “She won’t really talk to me, she’s making excuses and avoiding my texts.” his explanation comes out as a sigh.

“Bother her a little more, show up to her house, she’ll give in eventually.” she shrugged, getting up from her seat.

Franco left the club earlier that night and texted you before getting in his car. “you still awake?”

You rolled your eyes at the text, yes you were still awake at one in the morning, but it was because you were busy. “i’m studying franco” “not a good time.”

He only read your text, didn’t say anything else because he was driving. Driving to your place but not without a quick stop to a 24 hour grocery store. He knew that if you had been deep into your studies to be up that late you deserved some good snacks and just as he was leaving he saw some mediocre flowers, they would have to do, so he picked a small colorful bouquet – he didn’t know your favorite color but it was surely amongst them.

He didn’t text or call cause you would tell him no, so he just showed up at your door and knocked. You knew immediately it was him.

“Fran, I said I’m bu-“ your mouth stopped moving when you saw him with a grocery bag and the flowers in his hand. Franco froze, he forgot to think of what to say. “I told you I was busy”

After a couple of seconds – that felt way too long for him – staring at you he finally spoke, “I thought you might be needing some rewards, for studying so hard” he lifted up the bag, showing it to you.

You stood in front of him, your head rested against the door, watching him smile a little when he realized you were wearing his shirt. “Hope you don’t mind”

“No, never. Guess if I forgot it wasn’t that important in the first place.” he paused for a second, still looking at you “I got you these” he lifted the flowers “figured the ones you had last time I was here would be dead by now. I realized I don’t know your favorite color, or what flowers you like, think I was too busy looking at something else other than your flowers. I guessed you had to like at least one flower or one color from this one.”

“Fran, what is this about?”

“I wante- Can I come in?” he asked nervously.

You moved out of the doorway to let him through, smiling to yourself as you realized you were completely wrong. He put the things down on the table by your door as you locked it and when you turned back your arms wrapped around his neck, as you kissed.

His hands came down to your waist and he was slightly surprised at your sudden action, but melted into the kiss. “Missed me?”

“A little” you confessed, pulling away from him and walking to your bedroom.

You heard him follow right behind you, reaching for your hand when you walked in. Your lips met again but this time his hands guide your legs and guide them to wrap around his hips as he walks to the bed. He placed you where he wanted, right in the middle with your back against the pillows, your legs naturally spreading for him to settle between. He knelt up for a second, grabbing the stuffed animals around you and throwing them on the floor. You rolled your eyes.

“You know I don’t like them here”

He smiled and bent down to kiss you. His hands sneaked up your hips to your waist, under your shirt. Yours ran around his neck, nails against the sensitive skin, knowing it would turn him on. His lips lowered to your jaw, making you let out a sigh, relaxing all your muscles after being tense in a desk all day. He let his hips meet yours, grinding slightly against yours as his mouth started working on your neck, sucking and kissing all the spots he knew. His hands then lowered to the band of your shorts and tugged them down till he had to pull away from you to slip them off your legs.

“You look good in my clothes, should leave them around here more often” he smiled, making you blush as he positioned himself between your legs, laying on your bed.

Your hand reached out to caress his cheek, he smiled against the skin of your thigh before kissing it. He started leaving open mouthed kisses all over, your thighs, your lower stomach and over your panties, making you shiver when you felt his lips brushing against your cunt, only your thin underwear separating you. But not for long, once he felt like he had teased you enough his fingers hooked on the sides of your panties and slowly dragged them down, then he was facing your bare cunt, wet and ready for him.

Franco licked his lips at the sight before sticking his tongue out to spread your lips apart. He moaned when your taste hit his tongue, he had missed it. Once he started he was unstoppable, licking into you till his tongue and lips were covered in your wetness. Your hands dropped to grab his head when he took your clit into his mouth. His fingers joined the combo, slowly making their way inside you before gently curling up, he was making a mess out of you. Moans started leaving your mouth as he worked on you. His free hand made its way inside your shirt, reaching up to palm your tit. Your back arched onto his touch immediately, making your hips shift slightly and his fingers reach the perfect spot inside you.

“Fran” you whined, grasping his hair harder.

He just fucked his fingers harder into you, making you see stars and clench around them, By that point he knew you were close, just a couple more thrusts right to your gspot and you’d be gone. You felt your walls tightening as he started sucking harder on your clit, your muscles tensing and your legs trying to close around his head till he pushed you over the edge, making you cum around his fingers. Franco kept working you through your orgasm, his movements slowing till they came to a stop. You were biting a smile back as he kissed your thighs and your stomach, making his way up your body.

Your lips met again in an intense kiss, as you reached down to unbutton his jeans. He chuckled against your lips at your desperateness but helped you kick them off and knelt up for a second just to pull off his shirt. When he bent over your body again you flipped over him, straddling his legs as he looked up at you, surprised. You took his lips back to yours, kissing down his face to his neck as your hand reached down to rub his cock through his underwear. As small as the touch was it made him sigh, almost moan.

“Guess you missed me too” you teased before pulling him out of his underwear.

It was only a few pumps of your hand before raspy and shaky moans were making their way past his lips, “please” he whined.

You took a condom from your nightstand, making quick work of getting it on him. His lips were parted and his brows were just as expressive as always, furrowed together as you guided his cock between your lips, sliding yourself back and forth onto him just to tease. A struggling moan left his lips as his hands dropped to your hips, lifting you up so you could guide him inside. You lost all composure when he slipped into you, it felt like those couple of days without him had been so much more and like he was fucking you for the first time again.

His hands started guiding your hips slowly, letting you both get used to the feeling as you pulled him into another kiss. Your hands rested on his chest as you started moving faster, your hips now moving in circles, making your clit rub against his skin. He could feel your thighs flexing under his hands as you moved but what he couldn’t take his eyes off of was your face when you pulled away. Your bottom lip was trapped between your teeth, soft moans still escaping your throat, your eyes were screwed shut and your brows furrowed as you concentrated on making yourself feel good.

All it took for your high to wash over you was the gentle touch of his fingers to your clit and you were coming for him, clenching around his cock as your hips stilled on top of his. He waited a second before guiding you to move again. You knew he was close too, his body was giving you all the signs and his face was twisted in pleasure, just a little more and he would be there. You reached out for his face, making his eyes open after you kissed. Franco stared into your eyes for a second, eyes open as he came. He kissed your thumb that brushed his lip and spoke in a soft whisper “I’m in love with you”

You smiled, bending over to kiss him “I figured,” you said with a chuckle. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and pulled you down to kiss him, both breaking into smiles as your lips met, “and I’m in love with you too”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer till you were rolling on your sides, still connected and kissing. Franco only pulled out when you groaned into his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to unwrap his arms around you.

“I bought ice cream, you know” he whispered after a while “do you think it’s melted yet?”

“I think you should go find out” you whispered back “you were the one that said I needed a reward for studying so hard.” he scoffed and nodded on your shoulder but when he tried to pull away you held him back “No, stay. I don’t mind melted ice cream, I actually like it better.”

[curiousorigins]

This is true.

I've lived through a good portion of the LGBTQIA+ Movement. There were people spewing hate in a real way, calling for the deaths of people. Please look at the Timeline when people in your locale started supporting the Movement (or at least not caring about it.). Progress is made when people open their eyes and listen with their hearts. And it's awfully hard to listen when we're spewing hate back at them.

I do wish that these people had seen through it all sooner. They fell prey to propaganda, to echo chambers in their online and offline communities... to the fairytale of Scapegoats where all problems are simply the fault of another that once eliminated, supposedly all will be good (again they believed).

They're victims just as we are. Only they have more guilt to face. They have to learn to live with their actions and their effects. Knowing that they could have done more. If they just questioned a little earlier. If they had listened to their friends, their families, etc... I don't envy them. And I'm surrounded by people who voted this way. I am and have many loved ones that are and will be in danger potentially fatally... with these actions. And still despite what they have wrought on mine and yours... I feel for them.

They were sold a lie by people they respected, by clergyman, by media... (Isn't it interesting that the ability to fake a video semi-convincingly and put words into people's mouths became common knowledge right before this. Something that used to be able to be considered verifable proof so immediately discounted by the ability to fake it. Even without tech skills?) that with a few actions, they could save the country... save their livelihoods. (In some very misguided people... the souls of their countrymen.) They are literally Jack and Beanstalk... sold the family cow, but for a few beans. (And not only may their entire community starve a lot of their family and friends will never talk to them again.) And sadly the only mighty stalk that may come out of this, will be through collective action, but only if we work together. This Pro-MAGA and Anti-MAGA stuff is just this time period's latest Us VS. Them argument to distract us from who the real problem is. Our infighting empowers them to pull the rug out from under all of us.

You do not punish people for finally behaving how you want them to.

If they've woken up, it's time to use your hand to help direct them to ways that we can undue the harm. They're another set of willing hands and with a mess this large... you don't reject help on the basis of past moral superiority. You take advantage of the hands your offered to fix it.

We only have rights if we all have rights.

This is an interesting thing. Looks like testimonies of people who left the MAGA movement- how they got into it and why.

Leaving a cult is really hard, so I really respect the people who are speaking from this place.

[entries-byemambo]

The LIs Going to the Nail Salon: A Headcanon

So after talking with my best friend @space-of-sk in our private thread on Discord cause our friends know we're crazy for this game, I was sitting at my salon today and thinking about how each LI would conduct themselves if they spent time at my salon. All they're asking for is a manicure and it ends up being my turn to service them. I don't know them nor do I know where they're from in terms of existing in a video game. This is for shits and giggles because being a nail tech is my day job that I consider a side hustle (because I'm actually an illustrator/artist!)

Xavier

First off, he would be in awe of how our salon is decorated. My manager decorates our space based on the passing seasons (since Valentine's is over, we're moving onto St. Patrick's Day!), so he'll definitely point that out to me. My manager is using green star shaped balloons for the decor so he'll definitely get a kick out of that just like I do, they're so cute and plump.

Because our salon is pretty big, calling for our clients when it's their turn can be a nightmare sometimes, and luckily for me, I'm calling his name multiple times because he is literally dozing off in the front lobby despite all the noise. When I finally get his attention, he's having a hard time understanding my directions to get to my station towards the back of the salon, so I'm gesturing him to just GET over here please because now everyone's staring at how awkward our interaction is.

I first gauge that he might not want to talk too much during the service since he's spending so much of that time looking around and being intrigued by all the stimuli going on (the machines, the pedicure stations, the clients chatting up a storm, did someone say they want a mimosa?), but after a few minutes, I ask him the basic questions: have you been here before? is this your first manicure? are you enjoying the session so far? what do you do for work?

Once this man starts going on and on and on about all the various side quests he has, I start trying to recognize the pattern (thank you ADHD) and while not being able to find one, I interrogate him about why he has so many job experiences despite being so young. But once I realized that it is inappropriate to ask someone that out of the blue at the drop of the hat, I change the conversation by asking him if he plans on eating anything after our session is over. Which is how I learned that he burned breakfast earlier and opted for hot pot for the fifth time that week.

Zayne

Although he works overtime at a hospital, I feel like people underestimate the stimuli in my salon: the volume, the smell of the various chemicals, the chatter, it's ultimately very overwhelming for many people (just from me asking clients for the many years I've been working at this place). I think he would first try to block out as much of the noise by listening to his own music, which after getting his attention and working on his nails in the meantime, we can both listen to our own music at our own leisure.

However, I notice just how incredibly stiff this man is while I'm working on his service, which is common amongst many of my clients who work in these very strenuous occupations (medical, corporate, etc.). The concept of "relaxing" is simply out of their grasp so I know that I have to gentle parent them into relaxing as much as they can, especially because so many of them don't even realize that they're doing it in the first place.

Once I'm able to get Zayne's attention by softly tapping his hands, at first, he'll tense up even more out of confusion, but after informing him about relaxing in a playful manner, he realizes what he's doing and eventually releases his tension. After attempting to make small talk and hope that I can make him more comfortable by distracting him through conversation, I learn about his cardiac surgeon experience, while gives him an avenue to yap about his medical experience. I also take this opportunity to ask him questions I have about the medical practice, which helps him further relax in an unfamiliar space.

Rafayel

First off, having someone so luxurious at my salon would intimidate me right away because why are you here in my presence? I feel honored, not gonna lie. And immediately take him in for the service. He would definitely ask me about my tools and what they're all used for, since I have experience of many male clients who ask such questions to familiarize themselves with the foreign environment they're in. After asking him what he does for a living, I immediately tell him about also being an artist, which becomes our main point of interest during the session.

What kind of materials do you use for your painting? Have you tackled digital art before? I'm also traditionally trained and became an artist ever since I was young. I also enjoy nature as my muse and main subject, but I haven't tackled ocean or water before in my work. How did you discover the ocean and aquatic life to be your main focus? Oh, you're from an area close to the ocean? That's really cool!

And with a little nudge, he asks me if I do designs on nails (quick answer: yes, but not all the crazy stuff and not every single time I come to work because it's very tedious!) After asking him if he wanted to do his nails today, with an excited nod, I smile and open my Pinterest app so we can get started on what he'd like on his nails. We went with some chrome line art with a more cool toned color palette consisting of blues and purple. This man ends up skipping to his car in the parking lot after paying and bidding me goodbye.

Sylus

Again, why is such a luxurious man doing here in my salon and I'm honored but scared? After he puts his coat on the back of his chair and tries to sit comfortably, our legs are definitely bumping each other under the table because of how tall this man is. It sounds cute but no, it actually sends chills down my spine because holy shit I'm so sorry, I'm not trying to play footsies with you. And then I'm tense as fuck trying to keep myself from touching him unnecessarily.

He definitely picks up on my tension and actually starts the conversation first, asking me how long I've been working here and if I'm from the area. After realizing that he's just trying to make me more comfortable, I start to ease up and answer his questions, asking him if he's from the area and what he does for a living.

This man sells fruit? Well ok then LOL. I'm thinking in my head because with that face card? Please. Keeping myself from trying to make corny jokes, I keep myself from asking further about his job, moving on to asking if he has any hobbies he engages with in his free time. When I heard that he's a collector, we then talk about music and the like. Realizing that this man is not only charming, but sassy without even trying amuses me, and allows me to finish his service with no issues. AND THIS MAN TIPPED ME $200 DOLLARS ON A $37 TAB??? I THOUGHT YOU SELL FRUIT?

Caleb

He to me, would be the most amusing and fun to work with. Not only does it seem like he knows his way around the salon, but he immediately starts a conversation a few minutes after we sit down and start the process. I have no problem answering any of his curious questions, since he's asking from a genuine place. I then learn that he has a female friend that grew up alongside him as a family member, always smiling while talking about her when he talks about the past.

After some moments, I'm getting suspicious and ask him if he likes her at all. Noticing how his ears got red and he's trying to change the subject because I asked straight liquor, no chaser, I immediately shut up while scolding myself because why you being so vô duyên (iykyk). But then my ears immediately perk up to "it's that obvious, huh?"

HELL YEAH BOY. And then I immediately start doing what I do best: this man spills everything about how much he likes this girl and how much she means to him. To which I'm just there like "ASK HER OUT, YOU DOOFUS?" Of course, there he goes again worried about ruining the relationship they currently have and not wanting to cross boundaries. Or that's what I thought until he shows me a picture of them at his graduation with her kissing him on the cheek like ok girl...(endearingly cause go get your girl)

[rafessweetgirl]

better than the movies / rafe cameron

a/n: if ur seein this its my first fic on here <3 hope its good, i actually don't hate it. it's long for my first tho.

word count / 1.3k

to you, love was just something people found in the movies. it was fiction. you had given up on finding love a long time ago.

but here you were. looking at him and feeling so much love. rafe cameron. you smiled to yourself. how did you get here? how did you even know that you loved him? that you were in love with him? you just knew.

if someone had told you that you'd be here in bed, spending your early morning with rafe, you wouldn't have laughed. no, you would've looked at them like they were deranged. "are you fucking crazy?" you'd say. "never in a million years."

you hated each other. rafe was the biggest asshole ever and you were the only girl who wouldn't put up with his shit. in your eyes he was some spoiled brat who turned to drugs when things didn't go his way. you hated how everyone glorified rafe and ignored who he really was. and you were like a punching bag to him. you frustrated him immensely. he hit and hit and hit you over and over again. only you hit back. he was so used to running over people with no regard to their feelings. he had to admit, he enjoyed the fight a bit.

the first time you had seen rafe differently was at topper's party, last spring. it was hot and muggy outside. it had stopped raining a couple hours earlier, before the party started. you were out back, sitting on the edge of the pool with your best friend niya. there were people everywhere and you were starting to sweat. "i need out or im gonna die," you told niya. you got up and walked toward the house.

she shouted after you. "please don��t take your sweet time!"

you rolled your eyes and smiled.

i need to find a bathroom. i can get away from everybody in there.

you kept walking throughout the house knocking on and opening doors until you found one. finally, shit. when you opened the door all the way, you were met with an unfortunately familiar face.

"what the fuck?" he looked at you with disbelief.

"rafe?" you're kidding.

you were pissed now. you were hot and sweaty and just when you thought you had a chance to breathe you run into him.

"get out."

"gladly," you were about to turn around when you noticed something. his nose was red, his eyes watery. almost as if he’d been crying. "wait, were you crying?”

"get the fuck out, now."

"no, not until you answer my question."

he rolled his bloodshot eyes. "no, i wasn't crying."

"it's okay to have feelings rafe, i know you're not used to it."

that set him off. his tough exterior crumbled when he was around you. you never failed to get under his skin. he lunged for you, grabbing you by your arm before you could react. he dragged you inside the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind you, reaching down to lock it.

"and i know you're not used to being anything other than a fucking bitch."

while you would've fired back with some smart ass comment any other time, you weren't worried about his insults right now. no matter how rude he was to you, you were genuinely concerned. you'd never seen him show any emotion other than anger or annoyance.

"rafe, i'm serious. are you okay?" you asked softly. you and rafe stared at each other for what felt like years. he was scared now. he didn't show it but it felt like you could see right through his big, scary act. but he couldn't look away. you had him hypnotized and he could see the genuine worry in your eyes.

"what do you care?"

"im not as big of a bitch as you say i am. i have a heart."

he realized he had you against the door, your head caged between his arms. he stepped back and broke eye contact to stare at the ground.

"i just- i'm going through it right now." he dragged his hands down his face. "i dont wanna talk-" the tears were back.

you stepped towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist. the fuck? what is she doing? he stood there confused. the hug actually felt....good. so he let his arms hang and the tears fall.

"it's okay rafe, you don't even have to tell me."

he finally hugged you back. now he was sobbing, pouring his heart out into the hug. into you. you hugged him tighter. you were so sweet, he realized. he couldn't believe he spent all this time hating you, insulting you every chance he got. how could anyone hate this sweet, sweet girl? nobody had been there for him like this.

his father didn't believe in emotions. maybe that was why he was like this. he felt like he had to be an asshole. not because he wanted to but because if he didn't protect himself, who would?

rafe tucked his head into your shoulder. you smelled amazing, like strawberries and vanilla. it added to your sweetness.

"shhh it's okay." you rubbed his back. "let it all out."

so he did. and when he was done, he pulled away from you and you let him. your heart panged a little at the loss of warmth. but you were glad he let you in. it wasn't as hard as you thought because you genuinely were a good person. rafe just had it out for you for some reason. you acted how you did towards him in self defense.

"dont say shit about this to anyone." good ole rafe.

"oh im so ready to tell everyone," you deadpanned.

"seriously."

"i would never."

"thanks." he sniffled, glancing at you then at himself in the mirror. "really, thank you."

"anytime." you smiled that sweet smile. he hated that he actually liked it.

rafe found a hand towel then turned the sink on, wetting it. he turned it off and wiped his tears away. he looked at you one more time and actually smiled. you stepped out of the way as he reached for the door, opening it and walking out.

you hadn't talked to rafe for a couple months after that. you'd see him around but he'd make it a point not to look at you. at least not while you were looking at him.

it wasn’t until the beginning of summer that you’d heard from him again. you were lying in bed, watching the sunset out the opened doors of your balcony when he called you. how rafe got your number you couldn’t figure out (you make a mental note to ask him about it when he wakes up). but you picked up, and thank God you didn't hate him anymore or you would've hung up when you heard his voice.

thank God you didn't hate him.

he hated to admit it but, "i need you." he said. "please."

and so you ran out your room and drove over to tanneyhill without a second thought. and you were there for rafe. eventually it became routine. he would call you when he needed a shoulder to lean on.

suddenly, his hate for you was gone. maybe it had been love masked as hate.

rafe let you know that he was there for you too, of course. after being around a vunerable rafe for a while, you finally let him in.

you and rafe spent the whole summer together. at the end of everyday, you found yourself wrapped in his warm embrace. you pretty much lived at tanneyhill. being with him felt better than the all the movies you’d watched and the books you had read.

you made love. you argued. you cried in each others arms. you laughed together. and kissed. and held each other, and so much more. but most importantly, you loved each other. and looking at him now, lying on his stomach , the sunrise shining on his toned back, you realized love wasn't fiction. it was real. you had found love. or maybe it had found you.

rafe was love.

a/n: i thought my first fic would be a drabble or smth, but it kept goin and goin and goin. i have drabbles in my drafts and they'll prob turn into full on fics. hope smb see's this and loves it! i would love feed back and suggestions. i dont have a masterlist or anything yet so this is just me trying smth out, thanks @littlelamy for encouraging me. i’m dedicating this to you! <3

cute divider by @dollywons

[lightninginhersoul]

Okay some nuance on the Robby/Langdon/Santos mess now that i have had some time to reflect but before my second viewing of episode 9:

Robby was right to call Langdon out of the room and give him a lecture. Just because it is EXTREMELY common for interns and residents to be yelled at (at least once, by both residents and attendings according to at least 5 very close friends who are/have been residents) does not mean it should be. If Robby is trying to build an ED where that doesn't happen, that's great!! He is doing the right thing to address it right away. I wish someone had done that for my friends when they were in situations like that. The real point of contention is probably the "I've seen you riding her all day" thing where yes, Robby doesn't want Santos to become a punching bag (correct action) or for Langdon to be only effectively teaching others but not her (again, correct thing to step in for, he saw Langdon not praise her for getting a question right when he should have).

However, Robby doesn't have all the information, that this is at least the third time Santos has disregarded her senior resident (who is in fact responsible for what the intern does and depending on whose patient it is, the medical outcome) and that as a response to lighter criticism done correctly earlier, Santos has become even more resistent to listening to Langdon. He absolutely should have spoken to her in private about it, but he isn't wrong to be concerned that she will continue cutting him out and genuinely kill a patient. ALSO Robby, buddy, you just did a little bit of the same thing!!!! I get you wanted Langdon to listen to you but the WHOLE ED FROZE because you shouted to shut the fuck up. You ALSO need a break! Recognize it.

For Langdon, it is absolutely his responsibility to know when he needs a break. Clearly Amber made him upset - he had to call and hear his son in the middle of the shift. He was triggered, upset that his patient had been seizing for three whole minutes without someone even calling for him, and overwhelmed. Totally get him being in a bad space to then when he asks what happened, for Santos to cut off Mohan and say she messed up and Mohan saved the patient! But he is the teacher and he needs to find his calm now that the patient isn't actively in danger, take a minute to self regulate, and then talk to Santos. He also can't stop teaching her because he is upset with earlier actions - every case must be a chance to teach, and trying a new teaching style on her would be a better call. It is his job to teach, and he doesn't get to shut down or critque her answers when we have seen him be more encouraging with every other younger doctor and med student (although she also keeps answering questions wrong and he does in fact get to say those are wrong - this is expected behavior)

However, like I said, this is super risky of Santos. The reson July 1st isn't actually dangerous to go to the hospital is because new interns are supposed to run basically everything by a resident until everyone is sure they can handle some procedures by themselves. The safeguards are not currently working in the Pitt and Langdon needs to know that he won't lose a patient because his intern didn't check what to do next or even call him into the room. Langdon has every right to call her out for her now repeated actions. She almost killed a patient a few hours ago after not checking in with him! He doesn't want to let it slide that she is trying to circumvent him - they still have hours to go and this is becoming a dangerous pattern. He also doesn't have all the information about what just happened - he genuinely thinks that Santos has now tried to override Mohan, ANOTHER resident! This is now a serious concern if it isn't just him because that means they have an intern who isn't trying to learn. He doesn't know that Mohan took actions to regulate jumping ahead with treatment - he wasn't in the room (when he should have been).

Mohan did a great job, no notes there other than needing to have someone call Langdon in earlier. She was right that he shouldn't have treated Santos like that, she was right to listen and try something according to logic from another doctor, and she was absolutely right to not give all the saline at once but do some of it, wait for lab confirmations, and then commit to the rest of the action. Good job queen!

But this is still a problem, and Santos doesn't seem to acknowledge the actual root of the issue. Sure, her saying that Langdon doesn't think she has what it takes might just be to help further win over Mohan, but it could also be her projecting and not actually listening to Langdon! There are rules and protocols for a reason, and you can't just skip over them on day 1. Robby said it earlier to Collins! Residents can't override attendings, and interns can't override residents. There are reasons for this. Santos has potential but she has threatened a patient with harm, made a serious medical error, and made other incorrect judgement calls. She isn't perfect, and I won't even focus on the scalpel because that was obviously a mistake but that can happen - it isn't a judgement issue. She is running around making assumptions and everyone she has spoken to has said the same thing - slow down, learn, do your job, get a feel for the place. She very much gives me gunner energy, especially with how she's been acting with the med students. It's in fact almost more dangerous that she was right this time because it will make her feel like she can continue to act independently even when she has years to go.

Santos was right this time! She judged the situation and came up with an idea and the logic was sound and based on experience. She's smart, creative, she has self-confidence and speaks up, all good things. She also is clearly still triggered from earlier and she is behaving as such. (Again she shouldn't even threaten a patient like she did with the yikes guy but that's a different post). She doesn't want Langdon to go off at anyone else perhaps, to keep the target on herself because she's done that before maybe? Or maybe she wanted to see if Langdon would praise the actions if someone else did it, as proof that she's not being treated fairly. Or maybe something else we don't know yet!

She is clearly good at finding allies (although equally good at losing them, as we have seen throughout the day) and she wants to help patients so badly that she lets her eagerness override protocol which has come back to bite her. She lost Garcia as an ally after accusing Langdon of benzo abuse, and she needs another one. In this one moment, she got Langdon to lose his cool which is maybe evidence for her drug use theory (i seriously doubt it, but this is for her perception of the situation), got proof that the same actions would be trusted by someone else (a resident with experience who still altered the verbal orders because Mohan has the experience to know not to jump in headfirst if you can avoid it), won herself a solid ally in Mohan, and helped a patient. A very solid read of the situation or very good instincts to get her what she wants. If it was instinctual, it was likely informed by her still being in a headspace to focus the attention and anger on herself, a common trauma response.

Most of her actions so far have all come from good places but they are still leading to incorrect actions. Worried about drugs going missing/vials having an issue? Good place, worried about patient care. But coming on so strong without a documented pattern (more than two incidents that could be coincidental) reads more like picking a fight that has serious consequences in order to make herself look good. I think she is worried! But she isn't thinking it through. Same as giving bipap - worried about the patient and wanting to help, but resulting in severe consequences. And threatening a patient - good place, worried about the daughter (and the show is VERY WRONG about mandatory reporting so i get that she feels like someone needs to do something), but that is a serious abuse of power. This is all ramping up and I'm worried about everyone involved!

Okay now that I have written WAY too many words on the situation, I think I'm done for now unless someone caught something else I didn't here or we get more coming up. I don't want Santos to have it all blow up in her face, I don't want Langdon to lose his fellowship, and I don't want Robby to continue to get further strung out (although that is DEFINTELY going to happen, this man is in a Bad Place today and then gave a whole lecture on burying your feelings). I am most of all worried about Dana! And Pittfest! And all of the concerning plot threads!

[softness-and-shattering]

Most of my autistic friends expect that their friendships will one day out of the blue blow up in their face as people vent built-up frustrations about behaviours that annoyed others that was never ever communicated to them, and/or because of whats called "the double empathy problem" which describes one of the main ways allistic-autistic communication goes sideways. Ive been in social groups - discord type groups - where the autistics get kicked out because we are speaking plainly and askingd questions, and the mods or admin or other authority figures interpret these questions as deliberate insubordination and challenges to their authority, get "tired and fed up" with "the disrespect" and start kicking people. I have seen this happen in disability groups.

And its not all black and white. Like sometimes I can pick up on social cues because I have deliberately learned them, or learned them the hard way. I can even sometimes say one thing and mean another, but I dont often. I might pick up on one cue and totally miss another. Sometimes I just dont know why someone is saying something, theyre obviously implying something but I dont know what. This can get tricky when someone wants to indicate something without being able to be quoted about it, and sometimes I need to ask them to clarify and if theyre still dodgy I have to guess and hope I got it right.

And sometimes we're aware of unspoken rules but we dont recognise their authority over us because theyre bad or nonsensical. We tend to stick to rules if we understand them and they make sense. When theyre crap rules, I dont care how much money someone makes I will treat them the same as everyone else. I dont care how many high status cars someone has, we are equals.

Im getting off track - my point is that basically every autistic I know has ongoing trauma of friendships and social groups suddenly turning on them for no discernable reason and no warning and absolutely no previous indication that anything was wrong - sometimes after being explicitly told everything was ok the day before. This happens to us all the time. Its so damaging and so hurtful.

Personally I dont second guess as a general rule. I someone has a problem with me I trust they will tell me about it and we can problem solve and introspect. If Im not told, no matter what vibes Im picking up bc I dont know if the vibes are real or my own anxieties, I will act like nothing is wrong. If someone wants to blow up at me that has reflects zero on me and entirely on their inability to speak up about whatever was bothering them. Thats not a me problem. I cannot do anything with zero information.

Lemme induct you in an autistic way of bring and introduce you to a script you can use. Something like "hi friend, can I talk to you for a second about the meeting yesterday? [If Y continue, if N ask when you can talk to them about it.*] So I dont know if you noticed, but you spent the whole time tapping your fingernails on the table, and honestly the noise was distracting and mightve been irritating for some people. I just thought you should know bevause I dont think anyone else was going to bring it up with you. Could you please find a quieter way to stim/do what you need to/move in the ways you need to to concentrate. Ok thank you, no ones super upset just mildly irritated I think. I just figured someone should actually tell you"

Or even "hi. You spent the whole meeting earlier tapping on the table and it was pretty loud. Could you please find a way to be quieter in meetings, its just a bit distracting for some people? Awesome thank you".

Just be polite and straightforward, say what you want and what the problem is. Assume competence, sometimes we make deliberate choices against the status quo for important reasons not cluelessness. And give time for them to figure out an alternative, be undsrstanding if they cant. Just use your words, communicate clearly. It might feel a little confrontational but believe me its not as bad as bring dropped as a friend or fired out of nowhere. That sucks**

*Dont just say "can we talk", give a reason, otherwise they will likely spend the time between notification and meeting inventing every worse case scenario they can possibly think of. A couple words of context goes a long way.

** I came across a youtuber who, idk for sure if theyre autistic but they talk with an extremely flat effect (meaning, little tonal variance between words, not much expression in the voice, every word comes out more or less the same, "robotic"), which is an autistic trait. They mentioned in a video that they had a 'normal' job before youtube, until one day they found themself fired, given reason was their flat effect scared people and made them seem unfriendly and unhappy to be there and interacting. Sounded like it was completely out of the blue. Thats a job lost due to ableism though possibly no one involved sees it that way. Some people cant change how they speak or dont want to. Shouldnt have to. But at least mention it, see if the person is willing to adjust, and consider if it truly disqualifies them from being able to perform the job or is it just a little unusual.

I saw some snippet of a callout post for an autistic trans woman where they list social faux pas she committed, and I think we allistic people should all feel 100x more ashamed of not telling people in the moment how we feel about what they're doing. I think its extremely evil and cruel to not only lie to an autistic person and blame them for it but also to feel justified shaming them for your behavior. And it's currently the social norm to do that

[nobodyknowsanything]

okay so i have this world on minecraft where im just building a little cozy farm and thats it and my skin is andrew and it just made me think

we know andrew plays video games with aaron and nicky, right?

so one day, years later when andrew and neil live together and are both pro, one night after a challenging match (though andrew won’t admit it) he needs something to help his mind calm down and chill tf out, so he downloads minecraft on his laptop and starts to play.

neil notices him glued to his laptop more often after that, but doesn’t question it. he glances over andrews shoulder every so often out of curiosity but he probably doesn’t recognise the game because he’s not really bothered with that sort of stuff so he leaves him to it.

at first andrew goes through the expected motions of a new minecraft world, gathering materials, fighting monsters, and eventually working up to kill the ender dragon. he battles some of the other bosses too, as they get added to the game. but he starts to find the process monotonous and not enough. its all the same after a while and although he would rather cut his dominant hand off than admit it, fighting zombies and especially fucking skeletons stresses him out more than he’s comfortable with, let alone fighting the big bad bosses.

playing minecraft on peaceful mode always seems to get a bad rep, like why are you playing if you’re on peaceful, what’s the point if there’s no monsters?

but andrew thinks to himself, has he ever really cared what other people think of him? the answer is no, and so next time he loads up the game after his and neils team won a match barely by the skin of their teeth, he creates a new world and sets the mode to peaceful.

he sits there for hours. well into the night and early hours of the morning, definitely ruining his eyes but he just gets lost in the simple ease of gathering small things he would’ve previously considered insignificant, and starts with building a farm. he organises it by each different type of crop, builds pens for each animal as well as a farmhouse, windmill and huge wheat field. it brings him so much peace, it becomes part of his routine. every night, even if he’s had a relaxing day, he builds his little farm that soon develops into a small village and then a whole society. neil sometimes leaves him to it and sometimes sits next to him on the sofa, busying himself or unabashedly watching andrew play.

as the new updates get added, with new biomes and features, andrew keeps playing and exploring new parts of the world, building in the new places and connecting everything together. its where he lets the inside of his mind out on show, and if anyone else asked, it never even existed but he lets neil look, shows him round with a boredness in his voice that neil sees right through to the almost pride and calm. neil doesn’t think hes ever seen andrew so wholeheartedly focused on anything simply for the pleasure it brought him.

and maybe one day neil will buy the game for himself and andrew will let neil join this world he’s been creating for years and they’ll continue to build it together, their own little escape to a much more simple world where they get to be in control and nothing is out to get them.

[roboyomo]

anywayss i'm thinking about them So Fuckinf Hard lately man. stupid funny little duo that on a deeper level can actually destroy me if i think about the Nuances a bit tooo much. thinking about this particular part of the story right before maude's story chapter

Referecing the previous post about all the sinners being linked and experiencing a dharp and quick feeling throughout their body when one of the others turn into their cursed form stage. And just. Imagining these two getting a huge fight over something which just ends up with aridam spewing out "HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK THAT SOMEONE WOULD STAY FOR YOU WHEN YOU'RE THIS IRRITANTINGLY STUBBORN—" and it turns to silence. They say rather harsh things to each other all the time in such arguments but they always hurt in the right spot. So these fights end off at a very unpleasant note, and both of the parties leave. To where? They don't even know. Only thing they know is to get away from each other, it will all fix itself eventually.

But just. Imagining Aridam whose sense self is slowly being cracked. The curse of the sin of Pride really messed with his senses and his ability to emphasize with others, making it impossible for him to feel compassion for others. But now. It is all being slowly destroyed. Little by little. Has he ever meant those words? Was he going too far? First time for Aridam to think about him actually hurting others around him. Sitting at his desk, deep in his thoughts, just trying to reevaluate his "beliefs". An hour goes by and he has already ruminated on all the times he has been dismissive of others. Guilt slowly seeping in through the cracks of his core identity. Losing track of his surroundings, zoning out and then it hits.

The sudden but fleeting sharp feeling. Like experiencing egodeath.

Jolting from his seat in a hurried manner, trying to gain sense of his surroundings until he realizes this was an another signal. A "distress signal", as they've all started to call it.

Another one of them has turned to insanity. And they don't even know who. All that Aridam is feeling right now feels like death. Is this panic? Is this concern? Is this fear? What has managed to happen in just about an hour? Or was it even an hour? He has lost track of everything and now it is all catching up to him. Very Quickly. Counting how many others have gone insane like this already, doing the process of elimination - Sora? This has already happened, Agatha? Also happened to her already. 5 of them left. So many yet so little of them to experience this as well. And now at the back of his mind is. An unknown feeling of some sort. One he hadn't really gave attention to most of the time. It was true panicking. That even if it's not big, there is a possibility. A possibility that it was Maude's turn to walk the path of insanity.

So now Aridam, although not actually aware of his feelings, is concerned that there is a chance that Maude either survives or dies. They have grown to enjoy each other's company in a way that neither of them could put it into words or exactly pinpoint and genuinely do not like to envision having to leave each other. Aridam tries to hide that he's worried for Maude for realsies because that will come with unpacking the baggage attached to that root of worry for him. So much repressed and unaddressed feelings towards this person that he still refuses to acknowledge. two fuckers who aren't really friends after all but it is hard for the both of them to imagine leaving each other. boom we have separated them and put the other into a life or death situation, let's see how these two handle that one and if they'll try to talk it out at least Once in their lives

Imagining that it's also Aridam who volunteers to retrieve Maude. After a sinner has been defeated in their cursed form but not killed, they are very obiously wounded and tired out after being horribly disfigured into beings beyond a typical person's comprehension. So they aren't exactly in the right shape to travel back to their "home" by themselves. Others have to pinpoint their location and get them back safely. It is the thought that Maude is out somewhere hurt. The fact that he's potentially on the verge of death is what keeps Aridam feeling unsettled. There is. A need. A want to be the one to find him again to make sure that the person is alive with his own eyes. Aridam obviously looking slightly distressed about the whole situation but nobody questions it because asking stuff from an irritated Aridam is just Begging for an insult as an answer. And he's trying his best to look as cool as possible at the same time okay.

In a way this encounter of Aridam coming to help Maude, who is obviously hurt but is, most importantly (to him), alive. is a throwback to their first ever meeting. Maude, covered in wounds on the floor, acting aggressively upon seeing an unknown figure, with Aridam bringing him back to the rest of the crew. Now Aridam is here to retrieve Maude once again. Maude, who is also covered in wounds but is seemingly tired out. But now it seems that the action was done out of worry this time. Concern for the other side.

These fuckers don't even know that their paths are intertwined like stars.

[phagodyke]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[shdwtouch]

my mood / energy kinda tanked. just feeling meh :/ it's either adrenaline crash or overstimulation, idk. so imma take my meds and try to sleep. nini all ♡

[cripplecharacters]

Hello!

I'll talk about her being quadriplegic and how it might affect her design but leave the actual hairstyle ideas to other mods since I'm not Black (we don't have any Black quad mods at the moment).

"Moderately quadriplegic" is probably too vague to help you figure out what your character could or could not do. I personally haven't seen any quads describe themselves like this, it's much more common to say what level the spinal cord injury is on and potentially whether it's complete or not. "Moderately" could mean either an incomplete injury on any level, or a complete low-level injury (here it'd probably be the former since she's able to walk from my understanding?), which just doesn't really cut it. To go with the main topic of the character's hairstyle, if she's an incomplete C1 then she probably won't be able to move her hair out of her face - and if she's a complete C7, she probably would be able to.

As a general rule of thumb, C5 (or higher) results in less/no bicep function and thus limited/no ability to raise the arms to the person's head (there are obviously exceptions, especially at the lower levels). If she can't reach her hair, it will limit (realistic) design choices. You wouldn't want a hairstyle that requires you to tuck it behind the ear every time you look down if you needed to ask another person to do it for you. As for doing her hair by herself, unless her hands are really mildly impaired it's probably out of the question. You can look up tenodesis, it's the type of movement that quads will do in order to grab things. I never heard of someone braiding their hair like this (not saying it's impossible, I just haven't seen it).

Her level of injury could also affect her design in different ways; e.g. a present trach tube would indicate that she's a C4 (or higher) and complete and a tracheostomy scar would imply that she's probably complete on whatever level, while neither would signal that she's probably lower level and incomplete. It would be a cool detail if you're going for realism.

Since it's a children's book, talking about these specifics is probably too much (unless you're looking to specifically educate about quadriplegia/spinal cord injuries), but it's still something that will be helpful for you going forward. When doing research, a lot of the information that would answer your questions will probably be blocked behind the SCI levels and completeness, so it's good to have it figured out to be consistent.

As I mentioned earlier, "moderate quad" isn't really a description that's used much in my experience. If you want something that's more accurate but not too medicalized, you can try low level/high level quadriplegic and explain the difference. E.g., "[Name A] is a low level quadriplegic, so she can write and draw during art class with a special brace that helps her hold a pencil, just like her friend does. [Name B]'s older sister is a high level quadriplegic, and she needs her dad's help to eat breakfast before school. She uses a different type of wheelchair than [Name A] since she can't use her hands".

To actually go back to the hairstyles, you need to consider what kind of wheelchair she uses. If she has a headrest, she won't be able to have a ponytail in the back since it would be uncomfortable. Same for no hard materials like beads at the height of her wheelchair since a pressure sore on the back would be a nightmare.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

Just adding a little bit extra about hairstyles,

(and editing slightly to add: i’m mixed and i don’t speak for all or even a lot of the black experience just a small part of it but definitely not the non-mixed experience)

Like Sasza said, it depends on what kind of wheelchair she uses and her needs in general.

Like mentioned above, beaded hairstyles are common for Black little girls to wear, but if she has a headrest she probably wouldn't have beads or clips at a length where they would put pressure on her head or back with a headrest or backrest because it would cause pressure sores, which you definitely do not want, ans especially not on your head. This could include something like bantu knots; she could have them wherever it doesn't touch her headrest, but again, not in the back of her head.

It also depends on how much she can use her hands and arms. For example, I've had long knotless braids (like waist length), and I have full use of my hands. I've had to tie them back in a ponytail or half ponytail a lot, because they can get in my face often. If she doesn't have the ability to move her hair out of her face when braids obscure her vision, this could get really annoying very very fast! Her braids would probably not be that long, because she is a child and you usually don't put in braiding hair on kids and mostly use their natural hair, but I wanted to put that example just for the practical part of having very movable braided hair it can get in your face way more than unbraided hair. It's heavier and thicker than just a standard hair strand.

Also, most 5 and 6 year olds, abled or disabled, don't do their own hair past a ponytail. It's totally okay for her parents to do her hair, and it makes sense. It also opens up the avenue of maybe she can have cornrows, twists, or braids. If she has a headrest, maybe her hairstyle has the bulkiest part to the sides or top, like afro puffs or side ponytails or space buns or bubble braids (which are very very cute in my opinion), or hairstyles with something like zig-zag parts. I am not a parent (or a child!), but I do see a lot of braided hairstyles and little puffs among the little kids I work with. She could also just have her hair natural and loose, and put something in like headbands or large clips that wouldn't interfere with her mobility or with backrests/headrests if she needed one.

Hope this helps,

mod sparrow

Hi!

I have a couple of Black friends who use power chairs, though they are not quadriplegic. They have to be mindful of hairstyles that would be uncomfortable with headrests (as Sasza mentioned). One of them wears braids, an afro puff, or straightens her hair and wears it down. She gets help styling her hair. The other keeps their hair very short and natural because that's easiest for them to maintain.

Mod Rock

Hi! Your blog is really really cool and an awesome source of information with so much context and detail! I really love your approach of like "don't not do it; research, learn, and do it well"!

So Idk if this is a reasonable question or not but I thought it would be better to ask than not to: So I'm endeavoring to write a kids picture book and in it there's a little girl who's Black with a physical disability, probably moderately quadriplegic, and I was wondering about what kind of hairstyles might be realistic for her to potentially have?

Like I know she could technically have anything that a real person could have, but like I don't want to just pick something out for the character just based on how *I* think somethings looks without having a context I don't have yet if that makes sense?

She's about 5 or 6 and she's able to use her hands but she'll have spasticity in them and be using adaptive equipment, and she can move but she'll be in a wheelchair most of the time, so Idk how that might factor into how she/her parents might kind of style her hair?

(it won't really come up in the story since it's about her first day of school, but like more from a design standpoint)

Also idk if this matters to add but I wouldn't be personally doing the art, I'd probably try and connect with someone to illustrate, but I would like to try and have some pretty concrete descriptions for them to work with when the time comes.

Thanks so much, you're so awesome!!!!

That's a good way to summarize my mentality, and I appreciate you catching that! I do get frustrated when people approach writing people different than them as "well is it yes or no" when that's not what it is. It's "put effort into it or leave it alone". Because many things can be done! We can be in any story! It just has to be done with...wait for it... INTENT!

As for your question, she's an industrious child because I was not doing my own hair at 5 and 6 lol. That's a young age for hair. Maybe a ponytail or afro puff at best. I think it would be okay if you allowed her parents to do her hair, which does lead back to her being able to have any style that she might like. Maybe something with less barrettes and such, since they might fall out and she may struggle to put them back in.

So my suggestion would be to look up hairstyles little Black girls, and go through your options and pick one!

[fishparasite]

i know nothing about the anime in question but i think it's insane to have an opinion on an author's works based on the anime boy version of the author

[noxtivagus]

astrology is interesting .

[s-soulwriter]

Things Real People Do in Dialogue (For Your Next Story)

Okay, let’s be real—dialogue can make or break a scene. You want your characters to sound natural, like actual humans talking, not robots reading a script. So, how do you write dialogue that feels real without it turning into a mess of awkward pauses and “ums”? Here’s a little cheat sheet of what real people actually do when they talk (and you can totally steal these for your next story):

1. People Interrupt Each Other All the Time In real conversations, nobody waits for the perfect moment to speak. We interrupt, cut each other off, and finish each other's sentences. Throw in some overlaps or interruptions in your dialogue to make it feel more dynamic and less like a rehearsed play.

2. They Don’t Always Say What They Mean Real people are masters of dodging. They’ll say one thing but mean something totally different (hello, passive-aggressive banter). Or they’ll just avoid the question entirely. Let your characters be vague, sarcastic, or just plain evasive sometimes—it makes their conversations feel more layered.

3. People Trail Off... We don’t always finish our sentences. Sometimes we just... stop talking because we assume the other person gets what we’re trying to say. Use that in your dialogue! Let a sentence trail off into nothing. It adds realism and shows the comfort (or awkwardness) between characters.

4. Repeating Words Is Normal In real life, people repeat words when they’re excited, nervous, or trying to make a point. It’s not a sign of bad writing—it’s how we talk. Let your characters get a little repetitive now and then. It adds a rhythm to their speech that feels more genuine.

5. Fillers Are Your Friends People say "um," "uh," "like," "you know," all the time. Not every character needs to sound polished or poetic. Sprinkle in some filler words where it makes sense, especially if the character is nervous or thinking on their feet.

6. Not Everyone Speaks in Complete Sentences Sometimes, people just throw out fragments instead of complete sentences, especially when emotions are high. Short, choppy dialogue can convey tension or excitement. Instead of saying “I really think we need to talk about this,” try “We need to talk. Now.”

7. Body Language Is Part of the Conversation Real people don’t just communicate with words; they use facial expressions, gestures, and body language. When your characters are talking, think about what they’re doing—are they fidgeting? Smiling? Crossing their arms? Those little actions can add a lot of subtext to the dialogue without needing extra words.

8. Awkward Silences Are Golden People don’t talk non-stop. Sometimes, they stop mid-conversation to think, or because things just got weird. Don’t be afraid to add a beat of awkward silence, a long pause, or a meaningful look between characters. It can say more than words.

9. People Talk Over Themselves When They're Nervous When we’re anxious, we tend to talk too fast, go back to rephrase what we just said, or add unnecessary details. If your character’s nervous, let them ramble a bit or correct themselves. It’s a great way to show their internal state through dialogue.

10. Inside Jokes and Shared History Real people have history. Sometimes they reference something that happened off-page, or they share an inside joke only they get. This makes your dialogue feel lived-in and shows that your characters have a life beyond the scene. Throw in a callback to something earlier, or a joke only two characters understand.

11. No One Explains Everything People leave stuff out. We assume the person we’re talking to knows what we’re talking about, so we skip over background details. Instead of having your character explain everything for the reader’s benefit, let some things go unsaid. It’ll feel more natural—and trust your reader to keep up!

12. Characters Have Different Voices Real people don’t all talk the same way. Your characters shouldn’t either! Pay attention to their unique quirks—does one character use slang? Does another speak more formally? Maybe someone’s always cutting people off while another is super polite. Give them different voices and patterns of speech so their dialogue feels authentic to them.

13. People Change the Subject In real life, conversations don’t always stay on track. People get sidetracked, jump to random topics, or avoid certain subjects altogether. If your characters are uncomfortable or trying to dodge a question, let them awkwardly change the subject or ramble to fill the space.

14. Reactions Aren’t Always Immediate People don’t always respond right away. They pause, they think, they hesitate. Sometimes they don’t know what to say, and that delay can speak volumes. Give your characters a moment to process before they respond—it’ll make the conversation feel more natural.

Important note: Please don’t use all of these tips in one dialogue at once.