#but that one i'll finish it at some point

[theolliesaurus]

i'm so sorry,, op.

february this year will mark 10 years since i lost my dad - he passed away in his sleep from an aneurysm in his heart. yet i still remember when we got the phone call - it was the morning and my mum came to wake me up. the news didn't Hit until a later date. i didn't know how to cry when i first found it all out; that he'd passed 3 days prior to the call and was found face down in his bed,, that my sister was preparing to tell him the news of her then pregnancy.

i remember i got out of bed because my mum wanted me to follow her into my sister's room. my sister was sobbing buckets on the bed. and that was when my mum broke the news. i didn't outwardly react or start crying. i don't remember feeling much of anything. but my sister wanted me to come forwards when my mum left the room,, and she just pulled me in close and hugged me. but i still didn't cry.

the one thing i did was turn on my laptop and start watching a video to escape the news instead. but i still didn't yet cry.

but instead the funeral in march was where i broke.

what hurts the most is i never got to see him one last time,, nor did i ever get to say goodbye. and i still feel so guilty about not being able to communicate with him anymore because of the trauma of what he went through in past years,, with his sudden fall that lead to a triple heart bypass surgery,, to which he then would have to remain in a care home for the rest of his years as it excelled his huntington's to the point he couldn't live or care for himself anymore.

and because i no longer have him in my life,, i fear what will happen when i inevitably will lose my remaining parent or how i'll cope - my mum is my carer as i can't live independently due to disability,, there's things i can't do to take care of myself and skills i'm not able to learn.

which then sparks fears of what's going to happen to my sisters and to me,, because i'm planned to be transferred over to one if anything should happen to our mum,, and then transferred over to another if anything then happens to the sister who's first in line to care for me,, and so forth and so forth.....

but;

two or three of my favourite childhood memories that i look back on often include how my dad would take me shopping with him in the car into the next town,, and the shopping center had a little cafe next to it - the cafe had one of those coin-operated kiddie rides outside of it also (it was Scoop from "Bob the Builder"). so when we had finished shopping,, my dad then took me into the cafe and he bought me a cake to eat,, and then would let me play on that kiddie ride.

or there was a moment where we drove to the next town in the car,, and he stopped at one point to buy us a pastry each,, and we just sat in the car together eating our pastries.

or just the simplicity of being taken to the library to rent out a dvd on the weekends when he came to pick me up from my house. then we'd walk on down to his flat afterwards where i'd stay for a couple hours before bringing me back home. i'd play games on his computers,, or i'd take pictures with his photography camera out the back window.

or how when we'd make cakes down his flat,, he'd let me lick the mixture in the bowl and off the spoon. and how he'd let me help out with putting the roast chicken in the oven for dinner.

i still have a piece of his flat. a bit of his wallpaper that was ripped. and yet it's tucked away in a cupboard below my computer.

i have his photography camera that he left me. and yet i just can't bring myself to use it.

i had his computer from his care home that he wanted me to have - because i would always do drawings on it when i visited. it was the one physical thing i had left of him that felt alive. and yet i broke down when it suddenly didn't work anymore. now it sits tucked away in our storage cupboard downstairs; because i still can't part with it.

i still have some money that he inherited to me that i still haven't yet touched or done anything with.

it all still hurts.

and what hurts more is my mum offered for me to see his body in the coffin on the day of the funeral,, but i declined and said no.....

No one prepares you for how crippling grief is, last year my mom died of cancer. I watched her decline so rapidly that my brain couldn't understand who I was looking at by the time she passed. I couldn't understand who I was by the time she passed because I had to become a vessel who makes appointments, dresses, nurses, cooks and an entity who does not sleep. I did it all alone. The reality is that cancer eats away at everything, it lives on even after the patient dies. It ate away at every part of me, I couldn't get out of bed, I had sleep paralysis, I couldn't stop seeing her... like that. They asked me if she's my grandmother when they carried her out of the house. She was in her early 50s. Do you understand? In 3 months, she began to look like she was 80. Everyone wanted me to move on after a month, no one called anymore, not even a text. I thought I was alone when she was alive, but this was a new type of isolation. One that I barely survived. (thank you to my mutuals and tumblr for being an outlet)

It's been a year and 6 months, today I realized she's not the first thing I think of in the morning, or the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. I couldn't even call to do paperwork before, now I'm forgetting why it was even that difficult.

The sun's out, I think i'm going to get ice cream without feeling guilty that it's not something she can do anymore.

[deerlysacred]

🍎 i feel so high school every time i look at you . . . { dean winchester x fem!reader }

𐂂 𝄢 { you always felt like you missed out on lots of silly, social & romantic things in your teenage years because you were very shut-down and depressed back then. dean shows you that there's still time to make up for it. }

𖣂 𝄢 established relationship & fluff

♫ 𝄢 concept song : so high school - taylor swift

Clink.

. . .

Clink!

The soft clatter of pebbles against your bedroom window barely registered at first. You were curled up under a mountain of blankets, comfortably burrowed in your own little nest, flipping through a book with a cup of tea precariously (?) balanced on your stomach. You told yourself it was probably just the wind. Or a tree branch. Or, you know, the natural creaks and groans of a house that is absolutely not haunted (you hoped so).

Then— another clink.

And another.

You sighed, your eyebrows knitting together.

Okay. Either a ghost just decided to throw hands, or some poor bird tragically lost its sense of direction.

You went out of bed, padding over to the window as you pulled the curtains away. Your eyes widened against the unexpected scene.

Dean Winchester. Standing in your backyard, throwing rocks at your window.

The sight alone was almost too much for your brain to process. He was grinning up at you like some teenage heartthrob straight out of an '80s rom-com, one hand tucked into the pocket of his leather jacket while the other —oh great— prepared to lob another pebble.

"Dean?" you whisper-yelled, opening your window. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What's it look like, sweetheart?" he whisper-yelled right back, looking too proud of himself. "I'm sneakin' my girl out for a date. Proper teenage style. Now c'mon, before your strict old folks catch me."

You just stared at him, struggling to process several things at once. One, he is standing in your yard throwing pebbles at your window like a delinquent in a coming of age TV show. Two, he just called you his girl, which— okay, that probably should've sound normal to you since you're his girlfriend indeed. For a while now, in fact. But your brain still short-circuited a little, getting flustered even after all this time.

"…Dean, I don't have strict old folks."

He waved a dismissive hand. "I dunno, Y/N. Your grandma did glare at me once. Feels like I'm riskin' life and limb here."

You bit back a laugh. "You do realize I could just use the door, right?"

Dean scoffed, his breath getting visible with the fog because of the chilly air of the evening. "Oh, sure, and miss out on the whole forbidden romance, Romeo-and-Juliet, sneakin'-through-the-night scene? Where's your sense of drama, sweetheart? Hm? Where's your passion?" He gestured grandly towards the window and flexed his muscles briefly. "Now, c'mon. Climb out or somethin'. I'll catch ya."

You folded your arms, shaking your head as you chuckled. "You will not catch me!"

Dean put a hand over his heart, looking scandalized. "Excuse me? I am a gentleman. I would absolutely catch you."

"Dean, be honest. Do you want to risk finishing this date night before it even began after you broke your arm because you got too full of yourself?"

He squinted, like he was actually considering the question. "…Okay, fair point. Plan B— the ladder in the garage. We improvise."

You shook your head again, a helpless smile breaking through. You knew why he was doing this. He probably couldn't stop thinking about what you told him last night— how you felt like you missed out on things as a teenager. How you overthink about the past missed opportunities sometimes, okay… Maybe more than sometimes. And here he was now. And because that he was Dean, instead of just saying something sweet or reassuring and get over with it (not like he was very good with words too), he was throwing pebbles at your window like a teenage rebel, giving you the moment you never got to have.

And damn it if that didn't make you fall for him even more.

"Give me a minute." you said, already reaching for your coat.

Dean grinned, all boyish mischief and dimples, retrieving the slightly rusted ladder from the garage, setting it against the house. "That's my girl, come."

You sighed and closed the window before carefully making your way back down. When you were only a couple of steps from the bottom, Dean suddenly spread his arms wide, wiggling his fingers.

"Alright, sweetheart— leap of faith. I got you."

You eyed him warily. "Dean…"

"Oh, come on. Where's your sense of adventure? Woulda made such a cute movie moment."

You rolled your eyes but decided to humor him. With a deep breath, you let go of the ladder and jumped.

Dean, to his credit, did catch you. Mostly.

He stumbled back a step, arms full of you, before he managed to steady them both, laughing. "See? Told ya I'd—oof—catch you."

You clung to him, half-giggling, half-mortified. "That was not smooth."

"Eh, I give it a solid eight outta ten," Dean said, setting you on your feet. He brushed an imaginary leaf off your shoulder, voice dipping low and playful. "Y'know, if this was some cheesy teen drama, this'd be the part where we kiss real slow, right before your dad comes out with a shotgun."

You snorted, tilting your head. "Too bad my dad's not around to threaten you."

Just as the two of you turned towards the Impala, movement from across the street caught your eye.

Mr. Jenkins.

Mr. Jenkins was your eighty-something-year-old neighbor who sits on his porch every night sipping his coffee, watching the world go by. And right now, he was watching you and Dean with the exact expression of a man who has seen some things in his time but has never seen this.

Dean followed your gaze and gave Mr. Jenkins a slow, respectful nod.

Mr. Jenkins narrowed his eyes. Took a sip of coffee. Kept staring.

Dean turned back to you, whispering. "Alright, I think I've been made. Your grandpa's gonna call the cops, isn't he?"

"He's not my grandpa."

"You sure? He's got that 'disapproving man of the house' energy goin' on."

You sighed. "Just get in the car before he starts asking questions."

Dean tugged open the Impala's door with a dramatic flourish, waving you in like he's some kind of old-school gentleman. "After you, milady."

"Dean…?" you said slowly, side-eyeing him.

"Mm?" He looked perfectly innocent. Too innocent.

"You're taking me to a makeout spot?"

Dean smirked. "Technically, I'm takin’ you to a scenic overlook with a great view of the stars." A beat. "But, yeah, also a makeout spot."

You groaned, slumping against the seat. "I hate everything."

"Nahhh, you love it."

…You kind of did love it. But he didn't need to know that.

When he finally pulled up to the clearing, the view was stunning. An open sky stretching for miles, stars shining bright against the darkness, the town lights twinkling far below. Dean shut off the engine and hopped out, you hugged your coat and went out to clim up on the hood of Baby to sit. When Dean came back, he was holding— a picnic basket?

Your brows shot up. "Oh my God, you packed snacks?"

Dean looked vaguely offended. "Sweetheart, I always pack snacks."

You laughed as he set the basket down on the hood of the Impala and sat next to you. He pulled out a few chocolate bars, a bag of chips, and—of course—a pack of beer.

"Very nutritious." you remarked.

Dean popped the cap off a bottle. "Hey, you want gourmet, sweetheart, you're in the wrong car."

You rolled your eyes but took a chocolate bar, unwrapping it as you leaned back against the windshield, eyes drifting to the sky. It really was beautiful up here. Quiet. Peaceful.

Then, the soft strumming of a guitar filters through the Impala's speakers. An old, slow love song, the kind that makes your chest ache in that bittersweet way.

You glanced at Dean, who was busy nursing his beer like this was no big deal. Like he didn't just put on a song as if this was a romance movie. Your stomach flipped, biting your bottom lip, you spoke.

"Dean…"

He cleared his throat. "Just thought, y'know… if you ever wanted that teenage movie moment… well. This ain't a prom, but…" He gestured around you. "Got the view. Got the music. Got the devastatingly handsome date."

You giggled, leaning into his side. "You are pretty devastating."

Dean grinned, draping an arm around your shoulders. For a while, you just sat there, listening to the song and cuddling.

After a moment of silence, he glanced down at you as he was caressing your shoulder gently. "So, what kinda stuff do you think you missed out on?"

"I don't know. Just… normal teenage things, I guess. Like— stupid, fun stuff. Sneaking out just to go nowhere. Sleepovers. Gossiping about crushes. A first kiss that wasn't tainted by some deep emotional crisis."

Dean winced playfully. "Oof. That one hit close to home."

You smirked. "Right?"

Dean leaned back on his palms, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that. I missed out on a bunch of crap, too. No high school parties. No prom. No dumb summer jobs or college road trips. Just—" he huffed a dry laugh. "—training, hunting, and trying to keep Sammy safe."

You frowned, reaching for his hand. "That's not fair. You deserved those things, Dean."

He shrugged, squeezing your fingers. "Yeah, well… wasn't in the cards for me."

You looked down at your joined hands, your thumb tracing over his knuckles. "Sometimes I think about it. What kind of person I would've been if things had been different. If I'd been happy back then."

"You ever wish you could do it over?"

You hesitated, then shook your head. "No if it meant I wouldn't end up here. With you."

Dean's lips parted slightly, like you just knocked the wind out of him. Then, after a second, he cleared his throat and smirked. "Damn. You keep talkin' like that, and I'm gonna have to start writing poetry."

"Oh, please. I'd love to hear your poetry."

Dean straightened, putting on a dramatic voice. "Roses are red, Impala is black. Every time you kiss me, I forget how to act."

You laughed and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. "That was beautiful. You should publish that."

Dean grinned. "Oh, totally. I heard bad poetry is in high demand."

"Then congrats, baby, you're about to be a bestseller."

You sat like that for a while, the laughter fading into something softer, warmer. Then, as the song playing on the radio faded into another slow melody, Dean suddenly sat up.

"Alright, that's it." He turned to you with a grin. "We're fixin' this."

You blinked. "Uh… Fixing what?"

He hopped off the hood, holding out a hand to you. "We missed out on stupid teenage things, right? So let's make up for it. Starting with a slow prom dance under the stars."

You huffed a small laugh but didn't resist when he took your hand, helping you down. The second you were standing, Dean turned, grabbed a soft flannel blanket from the basket, and carefully draped it over your shoulders.

"Wouldn't want my girl gettin' cold." he murmured, making sure it wrapped snugly around you. Then, with a boyish smirk, he added: "Also, this way you can't run when I step on your toes."

You giggled. "Wow. Confidence through the roof, Winchester."

Dean just grinned and pulled you closer, swaying you two gently to the quiet music playing from the Impala's radio.

At first, it was ridiculous. He exaggerated his steps like some old-school ballroom instructor, guiding you dramatically across the dirt like you were at some grand gala instead of parked on an empty hill. But you played along, batting your lashes and letting out an over-the-top sigh, as if you'd just been swept into the most magical moment of your life.

Then, somewhere along the way, the teasing melted into something softer.

Your movements slowed, your bodies falling into an easy rhythm. Your arms looped around Dean's neck, your fingers absentmindedly curling into his hair. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs drawing lazy circles through the fabric of your clothing. The blanket cocooned you in warmth, shielding you from the cold night air.

For a while, you just swayed. No words, no hurry. Just you two, the hum of the radio, the distant chirp of crickets, and the glow of the stars above.

Then Dean dipped his head, his nose brushing lightly against yours. His voice was quieter now, softer. "Y'know… I think I like our version of prom better."

You smiled up at him. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm." His voice was lazy. "No bad music. No ugly corsages. And best of all…" His lips quirked up. "I get to kiss the prettiest girl here."

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dean tilted his head, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. This one wasn't playful or teasing— it was deep, unhurried, and sure. Reassuring. Reassuring in a way that told you you didn't miss out on anything, everything little step in life brought you here. To him. And you knew, that this was more meaningful and real than any ghost of a never-happened memory.

[ruvviks]

'I never meant for things to turn out like they did,' Nick mumbled, burying his face in Vitali's chest. 'Never meant for any of it to go wrong.' 'I know,' Vitali merely said back, eyes absently fixed on the wall as he ran his fingers through Nick's hair. 'I'm sorry.' 'I know.' 'I love you.' 'I know.' They both paused— Vitali hesitant, Nick optimistically expectant; but the reciprocation remained unspoken, emotions and feelings stuck in the back of Vitali's throat and the three words lingering between them like the smoke of his cigarette. He wasn't sure if he would even mean it anyway.

taglist (opt in/out)

@nistarot, @deadrlngers, @euryalex, @ordinarymaine, @mojaves;

@shellibisshe, @dickytwister, @mnwlk, @rindemption, @ncytiri;

@calenhads, @noirapocalypto, @florbelles, @radioactiveshitstorm, @strafethesesinners;

@fashionablyfyrdraaca, @radioactive-synth, @katsigian, @estevnys, @devilbrakers;

@aezyrraesh, @carlosoliveiraa, @adelaidedrubman, @fromgotham, @wardenevka;

@samuraifics

[alexanderwales]

The Hour of Truth

The spell made people tell the truth.

It was expensive, but not so expensive it didn't find its use. The intelligence services spent enormous amounts of money on it, it was part of every serious interview, and the legal system relied on it.

This isn't a story about one of those. It's a story about Michael and Sarah, in their dining room with a ReadySpell, engaged to be married but without a date set. It was a gift they were giving to themselves, something that would reassure them, a chance to explore each other. Michael was cheery about the whole thing, but Sarah was decidedly less so.

She unrolled the parchment onto the table they'd assembled from a kit three months prior. She read the instructions on the card, which were dead simple, then placed her fingers on two corners of the parchment, with Michael doing the same. The complex lines in the center glowed, a circle burst into flames for half a second, and then it went still and dull.

"That's it then?" Michael asked. He withdrew his fingers. "That's the whole thing? I somehow thought it would be ... more."

"We're supposed to test it," she said, withdrawing her own fingers and picking up the card. "Say something false. There are test phrases."

"Two plus two is ... hrm. Four." He frowned. "I could feel a resistance. What an odd feeling."

"My head ... no, can't do it," Sarah said, reading the first part from the card. "It says, 'my head exploded today'. I can't finish the sentence."

"Well then," Michael said. He spread his hands, palms up. "Here we are."

"One hour," Sarah said with a nod. She placed the instruction card down and flipped the small hourglass that had come with the kit.

"Do you love me?" Michael asked.

"I do," Sarah replied. She said it solemnly. "Do you love me?"

"Of course," Michael replied. "Well, it would have been extremely embarrassing if we hadn't answered those correctly." He tapped his fingers on the table for a moment. "How many children do you want?"

"Two, or maybe three," said Sarah.

"I want two, but could go for a third," said Michael.

They had talked about it before. You didn't get engaged after four years of dating without having had those conversations at some point.

"It's interesting, isn't it?" asked Michael. "We know each other, but I suppose there's always at least a little doubt until you're under the spell. A difference between knowing and knowing."

"We only have an hour," said Sarah. "Rapid fire?"

"Sure," said Michael with a nod.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?" asked Sarah.

"Yes," said Michael. "You?"

"Yes. Will you stay faithful to me?"

"Yes. You?"

"Yes. Do you have unresolved feelings for anyone?"

"No. You?"

"No." Sarah paused. "How often do you need to have sex?"

"Need?" asked Michael. "I'm not sure I even agree with that question. But I can answer want, which is what I've told you before, maybe two or three times a week."

"How often does it end up being that we have sex?" asked Sarah.

"Less than that," said Michael. He frowned at her. "Can you do that, ask questions you know the answer to? I suppose so."

"It's two point one times a week," said Sarah.

"How can you be that precise?" asked Michael.

"I've been tracking it," said Sarah. She folded her hands in front of her. "You know I like data. And I'll need to track it when we're trying for children."

"Is that the only reason you've been tracking it?" asked Michael. He had leaned back in his chair slightly.

"I was worried that it might come up," said Sarah with a slight sigh. "I was worried that we might get in an argument and you would say that we weren't having sex enough, and I wanted pre-emptive ammunition."

The spell did not actually compel her to say all that, but he could have poked and prodded and gotten around vague answers, so it was best to just tell him. She wasn't proud of it.

"How many times a week would be the right number for you?" asked Michael.

"Once a week," Sarah replied, which was what she'd told him before. "In an ideal world, I suppose."

"And you're saying that it's two?" asked Michael.

"Two point one," said Sarah.

"Is this ... a problem?" asked Michael. "I mean, it should be a compromise between us."

"It is a compromise," said Sarah. "And it's one that I'm fine with." She was coming off as defensive, she knew, but it was the truth, the spell still had plenty of time left.

It seemed to take him a moment to recognize that.

"You don't resent me?" asked Michael.

"No," said Sarah. She let a beat pass, to give him a chance to ask another question, then reached down to her purse and pulled out her notebook.

"Is that a notebook?" asked Michael.

"I had a few things prepared," said Sarah.

"Ah," said Michael. "Well, I'm an open book." He smiled at her.

Sarah looked down at the notebook. "Where were you last Thursday?"

"I ... need to think about that," said Michael. "I was working late, preparing for the pitch. I sent you a message, didn't I?"

"You did," said Sarah. "What happened after the pitch?"

"I came home," said Michael.

"Did you do anything else between finishing work and coming home?" she asked.

"No," he said.

She looked down at her notebook again. "Last June you went on a work trip, what did you do together?"

Michael looked at her for a moment. "We went out to dinner," he said, and anticipating the follow-up questions, he continued, "Afterward, on the second night we were there, the guys wanted to go to a strip club, and they did, but instead of doing that, I went back to my hotel room and sat there alone, because I knew you wouldn't understand that it's just ... a thing men do. But I didn't go to the strip club, I didn't see naked women, I just sat there watching a movie."

"Are you annoyed with me?" Sarah asked.

"Yes," Michael replied. "You don't trust me, and it's important, if we're getting married, for you to trust me."

"You cheated on me," Sarah said.

Michael pursed his lips. "Does it do us any good to have this conversation again with the spell active?"

"Probably, yes," Sarah said. "It would let me know you were honest."

Michael nodded. "It was one time. I had been drinking. There was something electric in the air, I don't know, this raw attraction that I had never felt, and I thought about you, and the thought seemed to just slide right off my brain. And then afterward, I felt so much guilt, like I had destroyed my entire life, and we'd only been dating for six months, so it felt like it was a sign, like I had revealed, too late, what you meant to me."

"When you went to bed with her, you thought that it was casual," Sarah said. "You thought that you would get away with it."

"Now hold on," Michael said, leaning forward slightly. "I was the one who told you. No one outed me, no one found anything out, it was my own conscience."

"A month late," said Sarah.

Michael nodded. "A month late. I wish that it had never happened. If it did have to happen, then I wish that I had told you right away. I was an asshole. But I've been faithful to you since then, I haven't done anything else, I ... I love you."

"Do you still think about her?" asked Sarah.

"Every now and then," said Michael. "Every month or two, she comes to mind. Mostly in a negative way."

"Mostly?" asked Sarah.

"Please," said Michael. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't think it's good that you keep dwelling on this, that you won't let this go." He looked down at the scroll, which had curled up slightly. "Is this why you wanted to do this?"

"Yes," said Sarah. "You said 'mostly', what does that mean? Mostly a negative way, which means that sometimes it's a positive way. Explain how."

Michael grit his teeth. "I am telling you, from the bottom of my heart, with a truth spell active, that it's not going to be good for either of us if we go down this path."

"I'm not marrying you unless you answer," Sarah said.

"That's the truth?" asked Michael. "I mean, you could have told me that before, you could have said that without the spell."

"You would have thought I was being manipulative," she replied.

"I think you're being manipulative now," Michael said. "You love me? You forgive me? You want to marry me?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Sarah. "We're pulling out a rotten tooth, as I see it. I would have pulled it out on my own, if I could have, but I need you, and I need truth."

Michael took a breath. "I love you so much. You mean the world to me. I am so thankful to be marrying you, if that still happens." He took another breath. "The only thing I think, the only positive thought I have about her, is that she was more enthusiastic in bed. But I love you, Sarah, you are the only one I want to be with, it's not something that weighs on me, it's a consideration but it pales in comparison to everything else, you're smart, you're funny, you make me want to be a better man, these past four years I've become a better man."

"There have been times when you think to yourself that she was better in bed than I am?" asked Sarah. She had gone very still. She was swallowing the idea, in the same way that someone might swallow a caltrop.

"No," said Michael. "She wasn't 'better', she just ... wanted it in a way that you didn't. Don't. She was hungry for me in a way that you never are."

Sarah began to cry.

"I'm so sorry," said Michael. "But it doesn't mean anything to me, I told you that, it's an idle thought, it's got nothing to do with marriage, with partnership."

"I think I might be gay," said Sarah.

Michael stared at her. "What?" he asked. "What ... what does that mean?" He looked at the timer, which was still running down. "You said that once a week was what you'd prefer, did you mean with women?"

"No, I ..." she was sniffling, and went to her purse for a tissue, which she used to blot away her tears and wipe liquified snot from where it had gathered on her upper lip. "I enjoy having sex with you, I like the feeling of it. I do. That's true." She said it as though it was almost a revelation to hear it said under the truth spell, as though she wasn't certain that it would pass muster.

"Then what do you mean?" asked Michael. "Do you mean you might be ... bisexual?"

"I felt that heat for a woman," Sarah said. "For several women." She let out a breath. "I never did anything with them, I never even knew if it's what they would have wanted, but ... I don't know. It's confusing."

"But you still want to marry me," said Michael. "Even with that."

"I do," said Sarah. "I love you."

"I love you too," said Michael. He watched her face, as though he could read something there. He looked down at the timer. "Do you think this marriage is a good idea?"

"Yes," she replied. "Yes enough that I didn't have to add qualifications, I guess." She gave a nervous laugh. "Do you?"

"Yes," said Michael.

But as soon as he said it, he wasn't sure that it was true. Did the spell work like that? Could you say something that was untrue after you said it? There was a rising panic inside him, a feeling of being trapped with her that he'd never felt before, not before the affair or after.

"Let's set this aside," she said. "Let's be done with it. Okay?"

Michael nodded. He had wanted to say 'okay', but it wasn't.

[nashusglasses]

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i finished s1 of apothecary diaries recently and for some reason high ranking military official!zayne x courtesan!mc will not leave my head!!! (>/////< " ) (cw: extreme yearning!!!!!!!! intimate kisses!!! this may or may not have been inspired by absolute zeal huehuehue)

he visits you once every two weeks. the attending staff like to tease you when he arrives (7pm sharp – no later, no earlier) by saying the prince has come to steal you away, and all you can do is roll your eyes. yes, he's devastatingly handsome and has some money to his name, but you can't imagine him buying you out of here anytime soon. you don't mind the job, anyway – you're paid to play chess, serve tea and the occasional glass of wine, stealing a kiss or two when they're drunk enough – and you refuse to imagine leaving your sisters behind.

zayne is different, though. he only requests tea (jasmine white, every time), requests exactly three games of chess, and always asks you to fill the silence with stories of the previous two weeks he'd missed.

one night, it changes.

zayne is fifteen minutes late.

you don't care for the schedule, but it's a change of pace you didn't know you'd kept. when he does finally come to your room, he is flushed straight down his neck, his uniform unkempt like he'd been clawing at the fabric.

when he sees the concern on your face, he has the decency to look sheepish. "i apologize," he breathes, then gulps. "i – the barracks had an impromptu party and i–"

"please," you interrupt. in the low light of oil-licked lamps, he calms. "you have no need to explain yourself. would you like to sit down?"

he gulps again. blinks stupidly for a quiet few seconds. a part of you wants to warn him the manager will probably charge him for the full two hours regardless of any excuses, but you don't think he can process anything in what seems to be an incredibly muddled brain.

you gently grab his arm, and he looks hypnotized.

"come. i'll make you tea," you say.

the next five minutes of crushing leaves and boiling water is hilariously silent. zayne's posture is sagged where he sits in front of the chess board, he's still blinking stupidly, and you already know the reason why. you smelled it the second you came within one metre of him.

"so did they force a cup of sake down your throat?" you tease, readying a small porcelain plate for the hot teacup on a serving tray. "or was this your own doing?"

he watches your careful steps toward him. keeps his hazy eyes on your form when you lean over to place the tea in front of him, and he's a second too late to ignore your tits. (you wear this low-hanging hanfu for a reason – and if your words aren't getting to him, he may as well use his sight to communicate. your game sense isn't the only thing that's keeping you in the highest ranks of courtesans.)

zayne licks his lips, then remembers himself. he immediately turns his attention on a high-point of the ceiling. you watch his ears turn sun-red in record time. "the former," he answers.

"i figured as much. let me put this tray away then we can get started. please don't burn your tongue."

he's already finished his cup when you come back to seat yourself in front of him.

"are you sure you're of the right mind?" you reassure him. "i wouldn't want you to waste your money on trivial conversation."

zayne almost looks offended. "no conversation with you is trivial."

oh. now you're burning up. "i understand. shall we play?"

he hardly sobers after your first game. he loses so spectacularly you'd thought he was teasing you when he let you take his bishop way too early in the game, but you realize he's just that drunk. you let up in the second match when you start to see him swaying in his spot.

"maybe we should stop for the night," you suggest. zayne ignores you, eyebrows furrowed with intent to continue, dangling a pawn over a column you know he's contemplating with zero strategy.

you stop him before he drops it down with a warm palm on his knuckles. he freezes. "i insist."

zayne looks at you, teary-eyed. you're almost tempted to smother him in your chest and croon. so you stand up, beckoning him over to your bed where he can relax.

he keeps a respectable distance from you at the edge of the mattress. but in the warmth of your pink blankets, all his harsh lines soften. underneath his uniform, you know he's made of hard muscle. trained strength. he could probably lift you with one finger.

he makes a strangled sound when you cup his face, tracing the thin skin of his cheek.

"you're safe here," you whisper. truthfully, you have no idea how to comfort him. all you can offer is another cup of tea, and you scold yourself for being such a terrible host.

zayne closes his eyes, then leans into your touch.

you stay still. he kisses your palm. you squeak.

"oh," you say.

zayne offers no explanation, waiting for you to retreat. inevitably, you are star-struck.

with his eyes still closed, he grabs hold of your arm, trailing a light kiss on your wrist, the inside of your elbow. the middle of your bicep. your shoulder.

he stops, and says: "may i please?"

the neurons in your brain are firing at sonic speed. you tingle where his lips rained. and because you are the most indulgent person in the world with a beautiful man in your bed, you nod. "you may."

he aims for your jaw but misses terribly. his kiss is wet on your chin, and you can't help but laugh. he smiles, hovering his mouth over yours. letting you take the lead.

you make him swallow your joy.

he is a pliant lover, tasting you only when you tongue at him first. he is so, so gentle. when you break for air, he pants.

"you have all of me," he whispers.

he yelps when you tackle him onto his back.

.

.

.

(later that night, your manager asks you how the hell you doubled your rate for your service. you shrug, wiping your bottom lip, savouring what you can.)

[tf-boi]

Would love to be tf'd into your cock 😵‍💫

( @matthewgold-32 )

I stare at you with my head tilted.

"Aren't you one of those Gold guys? I think they'd be pretty pissed if they find out I turned one of you guys into my cock. . . "

Before I could turn away you pull out a phone with a chat between you and one of the bros on the screen.

"Hey Matt where are you? Practice is starting" One message said.

"Oh hey, I think I have the flu. Might stay in the rest of the week and rest." You responded.

"Aww get better man, see you next week!"

I look back at you.

"Ah. . . a weekend get away eh?"

You nod with a grin on your face, not that I could tell with the mask over your face.

"What do I get out of it?" I say with a grin.

"Uhhh . . . What do you want?"

"Well I can't be taking too much because the TF is just temporary sooo. . . I always wanted one of your guys' uniform to add to my collection~"

"Absolutely not! The uniform is an integral part of us!"

"Sigh. . . fine fine . . . those shoes and socks aren't though right?" I said pointing down.

"These? No."

"Fine your shoes and socks and I'll turn you to my cock til next week."

"Deal!" You say reaching down until I stopped you.

"I'll pick it up myself don't worry, just bed over for me like a good boy."

You happily obeyed and got on all fours.

I knelt down and rather than take your shorts off, I opened a small hole for myslef and stuck my rock hard cock in.

You moan as you feel the tip of my dick enter you.

I place my hands on your hip and started fucking you.

You whimpered like a dog as my cock went in and out of you. Precum leaking through your dick and all over your shorts. Eventually you felt my hand grab the top of your head as I fucked you faster and harder. Every thrust you feel inside of you warms your body up in a wave of pure bliss. MY cock grew and gew inside of you to the point you could see its shape on your stomach. As my cock expands your arms gives out as you slump to the ground, your mind going blank.

With a few more thrusts of my cock, you release your load into your shorts. By the time you finish a pool of cum collects behind you.

Another few thrusts and you feel a warm liquid enter you. You gasp in joy as you fills every empty cavity of your body.

A small flash from an automatic polaroid camera taking a picture of your face goes off.

As I finish my load you feel my cock start to shrink back to normal size, but something feels different. You feel your body being pulled towards me. You feel your head start to shrink, your perfectly sized mask now feeling way to big. As you shirink your haed goes through the mask. You then feel the rest of your body following suit as your arms and legs retract into you. Your feet lifting up as they slide out of your socks and shoes leaving them to fall to the ground and giving a small thump on the ground. You limbs soon retract fully into your body as you slide out of your shit and into your shorts. By the time you shrunk enough that you entered your own shorts and underwear you have fully formed into my new cock, dangling off of me, your shorts and undies fall to the ground. I look at my new dick with a grin stroking you like the good boy you've become while playing with my blonde pubes your hair has become.

"Not bad" I say stroking you "You've even given me like at least 4 more inches!"

I look around and see your clothes lying in a pool of your own cum with a devilish grin.

"Lets have some fun. . . don't worry if your bros get mad at me I'll pay for the dry cleaning~"

With a wave of my hand your uniform levitates and begins to mold into a gold condom. I grab it with my hand and wrap you in it. You feel the rubber against your new skin, a new yet familiar feeling.

You then feel my hand grip you and started to stroke you. You revel in joy as I massage your new body, if you had your mouth still you'd moan in joy. You feel your body expanding with every stroke I give you. Soon you expanded to your full length, I had use both hands to wrap around your girth. You continue to enjoy my affectionate hands, drooling with precum like a good boy. You suddenly feel your tip being embraced by a warm moist sensation. I had started to suck on you. I knew I wrapped you up in a condom but I couldn't resist as I played with you with my mouth and tongue. You are filled with joy but something was building up within you, you hold in the urge to cum as much as you could so you could enjoy me more, but soon you couldn't hold it in and you started spewing your love juices into the condom. With every pump, you feel dumber, as if parts of you are leaving you.

I giggled "Oh you must be feeling yourself leaving you, I kinda turned your mind to cum, soon your body will just be your mostly empty head that only craves to serve you, while most of your mind is gonna be stuck in that condom!"

You were worried at first if you will ever see your bros again, but soon your memories, your sense of self, and even your intelligence leaves you. With the last pump of your cum, most of your mind was gone and now you crave to serve just me.

The condom now filled with a few gallons of cum started twitching, your mind struggling to make sense of its new home. I tie a knot so you don't leak out. I walk over to the camera and picked up the polaroid and stick the picture on the condom, it still twitching. I then pick up my prize, your shoes and socks for my collection.

"You're probably just my mindless dick right now. . . but don't worry I'll keep my promise to turn you back to human in a week, you have too many bros who will be looking for you. . . .but I might end up keeping your mind though~ I'm sure they'll be fine with just a new mindless sex slave."

[98onlyboo]

big baby - k.mg

>> part 2 of: treat you better - k.mg

genre: fluff; wc: 1,3k

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

..."You know, I could treat you so much better than him..."

The next morning you woke up, Mingyu's arms still wrapped around you. You tried getting out of his grasp but his grip only tightened. "Gyuuu I want to get up" you whined. "Just a little longer" he said and pulled you on top of him. Now there is no way you can get out so you just accepted your fate.

Until you had an idea. You almost felt a little bad, especially since he was sleeping so peacefully but you had to get up. You started tickling him until he let go of you. "That is SO unfair" he said laughing. He grabbed a pillow and hit you, which just escalated the situation.

You were having a pillow fight, frequently landing some hits but also receiving some. You tackled him and started tickling him again. "STOP I CAN'T ANYMORE" he said laughing histerically. You stopped and looked at him, realising you were sitting on top of your shirtless best friend.

"What's wrong?" he asked grinning at you. He knew exactly what was "wrong". In a swift motion he flipped you around so he was on top of you. Your cheeks were burning at this point and he could see that. His face slowly moved towards yours. His eyes never leaving your lips. You were mentally preparing for what was about to happen next.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep a steady breath when you felt Mingyu's breath tickle your ears. "Don't start something you can't finish" he whispered seductively. Then he hit you with a suprise attack and tickled you without showing any mercy. You laughed until your sides hurt and tears formed in your eyes.

Mingyu then stopped and got up. "Come on, let's make breakfast" he suggested. You jumped up running towards the kitchen, Mingyu following close behind you. You opened the fridge and took out some yoghurt you had. "What do you want?" you asked. "I don't know..What are you eating?" "Some yoghurt. Want some too?" "Sure"

As you guys were eating, the room fell quiet. "How do you feel?" he asked all of a sudden. You knew why he was asking that. "Right now I'm okay I guess. Maybe I'm a little hurt that he would do that, but...maybe it was a sign. A sign that he wasn't the right one you know? I certainly think the right one wouldn't cheat" you chuckled saying the last part.

"I would never cheat on you..." Mingyu whispered as quietly as he could. You heard it but pretended you didn't. "What did you say??" you asked. "Oh nothing I just agreed with you" he smiled and continued eating his yoghurt.

-3 months later-

The thing with Brian didn't bother you much anymore. More or less it still hurt your ego a bit, but other than that you were finally okay again. It happened faster than you thought it would. Maybe because Mingyu was a great help in distracting you from it, but also helping you talk about it. It seemed like all of this made your friendship even stronger than before.

You were sitting at home, wondering what to do with your life. You decided to call Mingyu to see what he was up to.

"Hello?" someone answered, someone that wasn't Mingyu "Uhm hello? Is Mingyu there?" "He's not here right now, this is Minghao speaking. Do you want me to tell him something?" the voice said. You never talked to any of his friends before. "Uhm I just wanted to know what he was up to since I'm bored" you laughed nervously. "Well, you could come visit us at practice if you want. Then we can finally get to know you better, especially since you're Mingyus girlfriend" Minghao said. "Girlfriend..?" You asked "Well, you're saved under ___ with a million hearts so I thought you're his girlfriend" Minghao said, sounding a bit embarrassed "Oh no it's okay haha, we're just best friends. Would you send me the address though?? Then I'll come visit you guys" you smiled. "Of course!! See you later then" Minghao said and shortly after sent you the address over Mingyu's phone.

You got ready, trying to look at least a bit presentable to meet the guys for the first time. I hope he tells him that I'm coming. After you got to the company you were greeted by who seems to be one of his friends . "Hey!! I'm Minghao, the one you talked to on the phone" he said and kindly greeted you. "Mingyu has been talking so much about you, we're happy we finally get to actually meet you" he happily exclaimed. "Talked about me..?" you asked with a confused look.

"I may shouldn't have said that.." he whispered and laughed. You just laughed with him until you were infront of a door. You can hear music and some people inside. "Let me go in first" he said and motioned for you to hide behind him.

"Mingyu I have a surprise for you!!" Minghao said. "Really??" you heard your best friend say before running up towards you guys. Minghao stepped out of the way and revealed you as the "suprise". "___!" Mingyu screamed and picked you up. "I'm so happy you're here" he said after you told him to let you down. "Guys this is ___ my best friend!!" he said while you just stood there awkwardly.

You sat down with some of the guys and just started talking to them. You got along with them really really well. You laughed a lot with them and came to find out that all of them are so nice. When you started talking to Seungcheol, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked around and saw Mingyu glaring at you and Seungcheol.

You went back to talking and laughing with Seungcheol, talking about everything possible. Suddenly Mingyu came up behind you and put an arm around your shoulder. You turned to look at him and asked him if he was okay. "Could we maybe go out just for a second?" he asked.

You agreed and left the room. "What's wrong??" you asked. "Do you like Seungcheol?" he bursted out. "What? I've known him for literally the past 20 minutes. He seems nice but that is way too early to say you like someone" you laughed. He apologised and you guys went back in. Why would he ask me that? And why would he care?

After some more very interesting and different conversations with his friends and spending the whole day with them you decided to go home. Mingyu accompanied you on your walk. "Thanks for walking me home" you said and hugged him. "No problem" he smiled, "also uhm, I hope this isn't too weird to ask but I've been thinking about this thing for some time now.." "What thing?" you asked a bit concerned. For whatever reason your first thought was that he wanted to end the friendship. "Us. I've been thinking about us.." he started", "I thought about how happy you make me, about my feelings in general and.." he looked down, almost acting a bit embarrassed to actually say what he wanted to say. "Please Gyu, tell me what's bothering you. What are you trying to tell me??" you said and took his hands in yours. "You know you can tell me everything right?" you assured him. 

"I love you yn" he blurted out. You didn't say anything at first. Seeing the lack of reaction, tears started welling up in his eyes. "I'm sorry.." he whispered, "I shouldn't hav-" you shush him, cupping his face with your hands. "Don't be sorry Gyu. There is no reason to cry, I haven't rejected you have I?" you smiled at him. Slowly yoiu closed the gap between you two and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. It didn't last long, but it made obvious how you felt about his confession. 

"I love you too, my big baby" you chuckled.

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

Chapter 13

read it on ao3

Chapter 14

CW: alcoholism & heavy drug usage

You know you have to find some way to get through to her, but every time you open your mouth, she outright snarls! You’re nearly back at Zaun, and you still haven’t managed to get a word in edge-wise, too afraid she’ll snap at you and leave you in the mountains to fend for yourself. Yet, your hands knit together in your reigns, brows furrowed, watching her in the vain hope she’ll turn around and demand you spit it out.

No such luck.  

Eventually, you’re fed up and can see Zaun peaking over the horizon. There’s still a leg of the trail to go – twisting down the mountain and into the valley – so you muster all the courage (and audacity) you have left in your body to finally speak.

“What the fuck was that back there?” It comes out harsher than intended; you cringe at your own words.

Sevika’s head whips around, glaring you down as if she can get you to shut up again. She speaks haltingly as if each word is a poisoned dagger: “Drop it. It wasn’t anything. We encountered a horde. That’s it.”

“You almost died, Sevika!” you counter, urging King up alongside Duchess. “Died. As in: I would have been left alone in Piltover to find my way back to Zaun with or without your corpse. And now you won’t even let me talk about it! We should have started heading back the moment you began limping, not three hours afterwards, when we finally got caught. I don’t understand you; one moment, you’re perfectly fine with asking for help; the next, you stiffen your lip at the barest inkling that maybe that injury did more to you than we know. It’s fucking dangerous as Hell!”

“Drop it,” Sevika growls, shoulders tensed as she glares at the ground in front of her.

“No, I will not! Do you even know how it felt when I realized you weren’t behind me? I thought you were dead. That I was going to have to drag the corpse of my best friend out of the bottom of an infected horde just to give you a proper fucking burial. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’ve got a death wish or some fucked up complex; that was the worst fear I have ever felt in my life! And I have run from – Hell, even gone up against – infected hordes by myself with nothing more than a machete. So, I’m sorry that I won’t ‘Drop it’ because you are trying to brood away the pain instead of appearing weak, but I’d rather you have admitted you needed a fucking break than put both of us in that position! I don’t give a flying rat’s ass if you can’t do everything you could before your leg got bit or you lost your arm because I never really knew you before those. You’re not weak to me if you’re in pain, Sev’ you’re just human. Given all the fucked-up shit that’s happened in the world, I’ll take human over dead any day of the week. Suffering silently around me doesn’t do either of us any good – it’s not as if I’ll go out to every person in Zaun and besmirch your reputation. I haven’t told anyone about your leg for three weeks! I can keep shit to myself – you know that. So, excuse me if I’d prefer you alive than dead, especially if you died to save my sorry ass. I had nowhere and nobody before I met you, Sevika, don’t make me lose that again.”

You’re panting by the time you finish your rant, so caught up in the emotional turmoil that had been stewing for hours that you hadn’t been able to shut your mouth after you made your point. You just had to go and beat a dead horse.

Sevika turns her head away from you, hanging it low towards the earth beneath your horses. Your gut broils with anxiety – worried you’ve finally broken the last straw and shoved her away from you for good. The rest of the ride is silent as you wind your hands in King’s reigns, glancing nervously at her as Duchess trudges down the trail. You want to speak up – to say something, anything, that might fix the damage you unwittingly inflicted but can’t find the words to justify your actions. As Zaun’s gates dawn on you, you can almost taste blood from how hard you’re biting your tongue. Remorse doesn’t even begin to describe the turmoil broiling in your gut.

Out of everything you have said to her over the past few weeks, why did you have to go and find a way to fuck it up now?

As you dismount King, you stand nervously in the stables, unsure if you’re allowed to follow Sevika home. She’s pulling the supplies out of Duchess’ saddlebags and setting the saddle on a nearby post with a blank expression that twists your gut. Thankfully, Grayson swoops in, unwittingly saving you from the Hell you created.

“Ah, good, you two are back sooner than expected. I can take the supplies –“ she reaches out to take them from your arms; you let them go willingly – “Singed has requested your help today. I’m still putting the finishing touches on your printing press, assuming you have found the supplies I requested. That candy shop of yours is almost open for business.”

“Yes, we, er – we found the supplies. Nearly got chomped, but we managed it,” you mumble absent-mindedly, sending one final glance to Sevika. Her back is to you, busy brushing out Duchess. A sullen sigh escapes you before you can catch it. “You said Singed needs me?”

You miss the way Grayson arches an eyebrow behind your back, readjusting the supplies in her arms. “In an hour or so… why don’t you join me for breakfast? You can help me take these supplies to the warehouse, and then I can pay you back in kind with a hot meal. Nothing fancy, just the diner.”

“Sounds great,” you say with feigned enthusiasm. You take the rest of the supplies – Sevika’s supplies – that had been leaning against the stable stall for someone to cart off.

There’s not much more you can say to Sevika; what could you possibly muster up that you haven’t already said – that wouldn’t make it worse? Following Grayson out of the barn, you toss a quick goodbye to King over your shoulder. It’s up to Sevika whether or not she hears it as well. You can handle the dilemma of where you’re sleeping tonight after your shift; right now, you’re going to enjoy the fact you’re still alive. You are not her girlfriend; You are her friend. You are not responsible for Sevika’s self-sacrificial behaviour, no matter how much you wish you were. You have made your point; it is up to her if she listens or if you’re sleeping at… okay, well, you’re not quite sure where you’ll sleep tonight if she kicks you out, but you can cross that bridge when you get to it.

Grayson leads you to a nearby warehouse used to store Zaun’s communal materials. The new items are placed in a bin at the front, and workers snatch them up to catalogue what has been brought in. Grayson immediately checks out the supplies for the printing press, carting them off to her store to stash them away. You follow after her like a lost puppy as she weaves through the streets with a practiced ease, the silence stretched between the two of you eased with light conversation about your day-to-day lives. Little things, such as a particularly difficult chair order she had to fulfill and your work with Singed. She maintains a mild curiosity as the two of you step into the diner, her holding the door open for you (you duck and blush, trying not to focus on the way her bicep flexes from the weight of the door).

A waitress sits you at a table near the window, sunlight shining onto your table, casting the menus and Grayson’s black hair in a golden glow. You giggle nervously when your fingers brush reaching for the waters the waitress brings to the table before leaving you to contemplate your orders.

“Everything sounds so good after nine years without all of this,” you say, torn between absolutely everything on the menu. “What do you recommend?”

Grayson rests her chin between her forefinger and thumb, levelling you with a thoughtful gaze. You try not to squirm as she drags her eyes across your face.

“The crepes. Jericho has spent the last year perfecting them after Vi found Caitlyn in Piltover. Young Kiramman always requests them for breakfast. You will enjoy them; they come with fresh strawberries,” Grayson states in a tone that swings violently between flirtatious and matter-of-fact, making your head spin.

“Get all that from my face, did you?” you ask, exhorting her to piece out her reasoning.

“It was an educated guess that you enjoy sweet things, darling. A majority of the menu items involve syrup or sugar – your inability to choose between them suggested such,” Grayson explains as the waitress returns, burying the pet name amongst the tall grass of her logic.

You swallow thickly, ducking your head ever so slightly – embarrassed you were so easy to read (and maybe a little turned on from the careful attention). Grayson orders for both of you: for you, crepes and an egg (she does ask for your preference); for herself, two eggs, sunny-side up, with a side of whole wheat toast and beef-based sausages. You can feel yourself begin to salivate as the waitress asks if you would prefer strawberry syrup or maple syrup, greedily ordering both. Grayson chuckles softly as if she’s amused and pleased at your order (you can’t help but blush, ducking your head to hide it). The waitress merely jots it down and promises the food will be out shortly.

Leaving you and Grayson to sit quietly at the table, conversation stagnating between you two. Only the gentle hum of other people’s conversations and the old melody playing out of the jukebox fill the diner. It does not help that you are expending all your mental energy ogling Grayson as stealthily as you can manage, still dressed in Sevika’s shirt, and fueled by more than a little pent-up frustration at Sevika. Part of you is secretly hoping that Sevika will walk into the diner to see you and Grayson having breakfast together, think it’s a date, and stake her claim on you. Unfortunately, that is merely wishful thinking, and you know deep down Sevika doesn’t want you that way.

She’s just a friend.

Being friendly.

The chaste kisses on the cheek and the way she holds you just a little longer than necessary are nothing more than platonic. Today proved that much.

“What is plaguing you?” Grayson asks, breaking the silence.  

“Sorry, what?” you blink back into reality, staring at her owlishly.

“Unless you are hungrier than I thought, you have the look of someone… deeply troubled,” Grayson explains calmly, resting her arms on the tabletop. It makes her shirt strain around her well-built frame. “Anything I can help with?”

“Sorry, no,” you apologize again, fidgeting with your sleeve. “I’m just tired… and Piltover was… a lot – to put it mildly. We nearly died; frankly, I’m surprised we didn’t. There was a moment where I was certain that blowing us up was better than letting the approaching horde of infected tear us apart. Which, is strange to say even now, after everything that has happened, but, unfortunately, the apocalypse never seems to cheapen.”

Grayson rests her hand over yours, stopping you from unraveling the fraying sleeve of Sevika’s shirt. “I am sure Singed would understand if you went home. The apocalypse catches up to us all, eventually. There are days where I don’t open my doors – when I still remember the worst of it all.”

You focus on the gentle sensation of her thumb stroking against the back of your hand as you shake your head slowly. “I couldn’t. I kind of tore Sevika a new asshole for the stunt she pulled – it’s a long and personal story I don’t think she’d appreciate me telling other people about, but the short version is that she almost died instead of asking for help. Now she won’t talk to me… I think I fucked up, and now I don’t even have a place to sleep tonight.”

“Sevika’s a big girl; she can handle a little lecture here and there. She just doesn’t like to admit that others are right. Give her time; she’ll come around. If she doesn’t concede before the end of the day – or you find yourself without a place to sleep – I have a spare bedroom at my place that you’re free to crash in,” Grayson offers, squeezing your hand. Her warm smile coils in your gut, radiating like a hot meal scarfed down too fast, warming you from the inside out whether you like it or not.

You can’t help but give yourself over to the sensation. “Thank you; hopefully, I don’t have to take you up on the offer, but it’s nice to know I have the option.”

Her smile only burns brighter, and you can’t help but smile with her. You want to say more – she looks like she’s about to say more. Then the waitress returns, setting your respective plates in front of you, and the two of you pull apart as if you’d been burned.

Breakfast is delicious, just as she promised. You have to hold yourself back from scarfing it down all at once, torn between a desire to savour it and the starving hunger you hadn’t acknowledged until food was in front of you. You are barely able to stop yourself from licking the plate clean! Thankfully, you manage to reign yourself in so you don’t make a bigger fool out of yourself in front of Grayson. If she notices the desperation in your eyes, she doesn’t comment on it, instead making polite conversation about the various menu items. Things she liked, the different dishes the chefs were better at, and ingredient sources. You make a mental note to invite her over for breakfast one day and cook something to repay her for today – though you’re not sure what you’ll make as she had far too many favourite dishes to choose from.

After the two of you have finished, Grayson walks you to Singed’s lab, insisting you can crash on her couch instead if you need. You assure her it’s a generous offer, but the pay you earn is too good to pass up, as you want to have enough money squirrelled away to keep the printing press afloat. She respects your wishes, walking you to the door. Singed is lazily strolling about his garden, picking out various herbs and flowers, waving you to head inside by yourself.

Grayson stops you just before the door, taking your hand in hers and kissing your knuckles with chapped lips. You flush a brilliant scarlet, heart thundering in your chest.

“Stay safe and out of trouble today,” she says, straightening up as you will your hand to drop slowly to your side.

Without giving yourself time to hesitate, you lean forward and plant a kiss on her cheek (desperately hoping you’re not being too brash). She blushes softly and smiles down at you, yet all you can feel is a cruel twist of betrayal in your chest. It feels… wrong – you hate how wrong it feels, how much you wish she was Sevika. There’s no denying Grayson is an attractive woman, but even a harmless flirt feels like the most heinous betrayal. Yet, that twisting green-eyed monster inside of you roars in triumph, desperate to make Sevika jealous you’re giving another woman attention. Even if it’s a terrible position to put Grayson in…

“You as well,” you whisper, pulling back and slipping inside Singed’s lab.

Your heart thunders in your chest as you pull yourself through the process of getting ready – lab coat, gloves, boots, and every piece of PPE that Singed has squirrelled away to keep anyone inside his lab safe. Singed is still outside when you’re done, so you take a moment to look around. It’s a harmless pastime that you’ve done countless times before, yet this time, there’s something new. Sitting on his work desk on top of one of your journals, as if he’d left it out for you to find, is a key. Unassuming, sterile grey, with the letter ‘O’ engraved onto the top. You contemplate it for a moment before pocketing it. If he meant it for you, what was the harm of taking the initiative? He’s never complained about you doing so before. Killing time, you glance up at the map above his work desk to find a small pin with the same ‘O’ on it – it could just be a coincidence, there are countless pins, yet all of them are engraved with a different letter. This one is stabbed straight through the science district of Piltover… it could just be a coincidence, but you’ve survived for far too long betting on fate to take it at face value. You hastily scribble down the rough location in your journal as you hear the door to the lab open.

Singed finds you standing at the ready next to the old surgery chair, where the corpse of an infected lays. He nods approvingly, stepping toward you and beginning the start of his usual morning dissection, having you take notes. He does not mention the key; neither do you.

Routine overtakes you, the key quickly forgotten in the ocean of events that happen throughout the day. Singed has enough energy to open the clinic today, and the first person you see is Ekko, who managed to get a piece of rebar through part of his arm in a freak accident at the construction site. Singed scolds Ekko to no end as Singed gives him a dosage of homemade antibiotics while you clean and dress the wound. A few people come in with broken bones, some with scratch marks, and one kid with three bee stings (she had been picking flowers near Sevika’s bee boxes). Then, Vander came in with a broken pinky that he swore wasn’t from carrying crates around the warehouse, as Singed had prescribed him to ease off the manual labour to allow a previous shoulder injury to heal. You splint Vander’s fingers while Singed lectures him so hard it makes your lecture to Sevika seem like a playground squabble.

By the end, you’re too tired to do much of anything besides sleep. The sun has already set and Singed paid you a fair amount that nearly doubled in size when Vander gave you hazard pay for the Piltover trip. So, you treat yourself and Vander to dinner at the diner, too exhausted to bother cooking – the two of you order the steak special with poutine, steamed carrots and fried mushrooms. All of which sound like absolute heaven to you.

The universe allows you ten blissful minutes of ignorance while you wait, before Vander leans forward and asks: “So, not that I don’t appreciate this, but why didn’t you take Sevika instead of me?”

You hate his ability to cut straight to the chase like a truth-seeking bloodhound. Trying to shrug it off, you say: “Do I have to do everything with her?”

“No, but that hasn’t stopped you since you got here,” Vander points out, and you scratch at your wrist underneath the cuff of Sevika’s shirt.

“We had a fight,” you mumble to the table.

“A fight? About what? It couldn’t have been that bad that you scared her off – or did she finally scare you off?” Vander presses, taking on an almost joking tone to add a light-hearted air to the conversation.

“No, I –“ you run a hand through your hair and sigh heavily – “Fuck, Vander, I shouldn’t be telling you this. It ain’t your mess to get caught up in.”

“Kid, trust me, I’ve had worse. You think I’ve never had to give romantic advice before? My daughters’ aren’t exactly the most functional or communicative people out there,” Vander chuckles, leaning back in the booth. “Come on, spill the beans.”

You scoff at the absurdity, shaking your head. A sad smile dances across your lips for a brief moment before the grief of Sevika’s friendship smothers it. “Okay, fine. She nearly got herself killed out there because she wouldn’t take a break and rest. I said some pretty presumptuous things about her working herself to the bone because she needs to prove she’s still dependable despite her injury. And that I was afraid of her dying; that I didn’t want her to die for me…”

“Oh.”

You bob your head and swallow, refusing to look him in the eyes. “She kinda stopped talking after that. I haven’t seen her since we came back this morning. I know I fucked up, I just don’t think I can handle hearing her say it.”

“Kid –“ Vander is cut off by the waitress setting your plates down in front of you. He waits for her to leave before continuing – “Kid, I’ve been with Sevika through the thick and thin of it, and I’ve tried to tell her the same damn thing a dozen times over. She’ll forgive you, and if she doesn’t, I’ll knock her upside the head until she does. In the, uh, sparing ring – don’t go around thinking we beat each other up for being headstrong. All she needs is time. She’s taken a real shine to you; she won’t just up and force you out of her life.”

“Okay, good, thanks – I don’t think I could handle losing yet another person in my life. At least not to my own stupidity. It might be best if I give her some space, though… do you know if the printing shop is done yet? I know Grayson has almost finished the press itself, but I haven’t gotten an update on the shop.”

Vander drags a hand over his face with a tired sigh: “Sevika was supposed to tell you before you left, but you – fuck we sent you on a mission without even giving you the good news. The shop is done – I’ll show you after dinner – but kid, I don’t think you should do this. This is going to send the wrong message. I know Sevika can be intense at times, but –“

“Vander, I appreciate it, really I do. It’s just… I want to stop being a burden to everyone. Maybe if I put a little space between us, it’ll hurt less the next time she goes and almost gets herself killed.”

His brow creases together, lips pursed, and a pitiful look shimmering in his eyes. He takes your hand, stilling it from almost cutting the knife through your plate.    “I won’t force you into anything; I can only give you my best advice. If you think it’s for the best, I won’t stand in your way. However, if I was in your shoes, this isn’t the path I would walk down. At least think it over tonight – if you still feel this way tomorrow, I’ll show you the shop.”

“Vander –“

“I’m serious, kid. You’re exhausted. Don’t make stupid choices tonight that you can’t take back tomorrow.”

You bite your lip – he’s right, and you hate it. Instead of admitting it, you flag the waitress down and order a drink (unfortunately, all they have is mead, which only serves to sink you lower into despair). Vander shovels steak into his mouth to keep himself from commenting, and you can’t help but appreciate the gesture. The two of you eat in silence, occasionally talking about the weather or potential books you might print. When you’re done, Vander beats you to the bill, insisting you save your money because he’s got too much of his own. The two of you have two more drinks (which you pay for) before he walks you home, letting you point out the different stars in the sky. When you reach Sevika’s step, he hugs you tightly, squeezing you just a little too hard before he lets you go inside. You hug him just a little longer than necessary, letting go several long moments after his hands loosen. He doesn’t comment; neither do you.

The house smells like booze and weed. The backdoor is open, and you can see the shadow of a figure hunched over on the step, her back to you, lit by the faint glow of a joint. For a moment, you hesitate, standing in the living room, staring at her. Your heart aches to go to her, overpowering your drunken mind to take a step forward. The floorboard creaks beneath you, and your heart begins to hammer like a jackrabbit as you freeze like a deer in headlights. Headlights that never come. She doesn’t so much as turn her head toward you; instead, the joint is lifted to her lips, and a cloud of smoke dissipates around her head.  

Shoulders sinking, you trudge up the stairs like a scolded dog. Before heading to bed, you take one last shower, knowing it’ll be your last for at least a few days until you get your living situation in order. You know Sevika’s still smoking on the porch as you curl up in bed because fifteen minutes afterwards, her footsteps echo down the hall. They stop just outside your door, your heart hammering in your chest, willing it to swing open and for her to say anything. For her to apologize or curl up in bed next to you without a word – you’d even take her shouting at you to get out; anything but this nauseous silence that hangs around the two of you like smog.

Her footsteps continue down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom.

[azacat-alias-lost]

I'm a silly little guy and have nothing better to do, so have a crossover au that I may turn into a fic, or another thing. POLL AT THE BOTTOM

~~~~~~~~~~

Picture this.

Jonathan Sims, just after the end of S2 of the Magnus Archives. He's been freshly framed for murder by his evil boss, and now the London police force is after him. Daisy Tonner is hunting him down, and she's got the whole force on her side. But get this. Another officer catches him and throws him in jail. Daisy, wanting him dead, is trying to convince people he doesn't deserve a trial. He gets one anyway, because, well, he kind of has to.

Jon, in the detention center. He's adamant that he did not kill that old man. No one can figure out who that old man is, and the fact that Jon seems to know something makes him way more suspicious. Martin visits him every day, and Jon's starting to realize that maybe, if he cares so much, he's not so bad. That's not going to do him much good, though, he's still in jail.

Jon, panicking. His trial is getting closer; only a few days left before he's assigned a lawyer, and if Daisy has anything to say about it, he'll get the shittiest one the city has. He knows he's as good as dead. He knows he'll lose. But he waits anyway. No one has given him any resources, but he waits anyway, one last spark of hope left in him, hope that maybe, because he knows he didn't do it, that will count for something.

Now, I want you to picture something else.

A young lawyer in a nice blue suit has just heard about a case that, for some reason or another (Eye influence), has made international news. He watches the segment, which features a sad, pathetic looking man who looks much older than he is. That guy couldn't have killed somebody, he thinks to himself, there's no way. And he gets a feeling in his gut that the only one who can prove the guy innocent is him.

Pan back to the jail cell. Jon is called out for a visit from Martin, and they get to discussing what he's going to do. Martin is apologizing, saying that he couldn't find a lawyer to take the case, saying that he wishes he could have done more. Jon is resigned to defeat at this point, and is thinking about pleading guilty, just to see if he can get a lesser sentence.

That is, until no-loss-recorded, young and hopeful, Mr. Missed Connections extraordinaire walks through the door.

Phoenix Wright, before anyone has the chance to ask him why he's there, says one thing.

"I'll take your case."

~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, what do y'all think? I could either write a fic (less engaging but still fun and would take a lot less time) or make an objection.lol video case with custom sprites (much more time consuming but would be a really cool finished product). If I do the fic, I may do the video afterwards.

Which should I do first?

I'm very curious as to what gets chosen

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Hi! It's a new year, and I've decided to make a small change to my space. I might gif less than I did last year cause at the end of the year I felt a bit of a burnout with the whole process, so I'll gif when I feel like it, and might not keep it as consistent. Also, I sorta got over myself and my insecurities and have started just posting more random thoughts, because who cares? This is my house and I shall inflict my opinions and silly thoughts on my followers. It's been great. I will update this post through the month mostly with links to the stuff I write in the meantime.

QL - Currently Watching

🇯🇵 Call Me by No-Name [4/8] - The visuals are the best part of this for me. Although I'm getting increasingly curious about the name. Just like @lurkingshan wrote here, I was underwhelmed by the bloody hands reveal. I was expecting something darker, because well, the show kinda put me in that mindset. I'm having trouble connecting to Megumi on any level tbh, and it's Kotoha that holds my attention.

🇰🇷 FC Soldout [3/10] - This was by far the best episode so far. It seems there's a pining boy, second chance romance thing going on. And there was some actual football happening this episode, so things are looking up.

🇨🇳 I'll Turn Around This Time [4/6] - I'm caught up.

🇹🇼 Impression of Youth [4/9] - That was faster than I expected. The scene in the classroom was very well done. And it seems like things will progress quite quickly from here. I'm enjoying the main couple more than I thought I would. I don't know how I feel about the second couple. I'm just not feeling right now, although that might change.

🇹🇭 Ossan's Love Th [4/12] - I love them. Surprising, I know. Mix is just always a delight. Earth is doing a great job and the show is actually funny. And insane obviously. I'm having a wonderful time basically.

🇹🇭 Perfect 10 Liners [14/24] - I adore them.

🇹🇭 Sangmin Dinneaw [5/8] - This show is definitely one of the weirdest I ever saw. The whiplash from one scene to the next is unparalleled. They are kinda cute but I'm kinda over it. Also at this point, I kinda don't want the sides to end up together. Athit, please sweetie, don't settle for being the backup. But of course he's gonna.

🇹🇭 The Boy Next World [4/10] - Ok, so we all agree that Cir is just more than a little insane, like probably because of that mother, and not really from a parallel universe, and has probably been stalking watching Phu from afar since that day in the classroom, right? Great.

🇹🇭 The Heart Killers [10/12] - I'm still watching quietly.

🇹🇭 ThamePo [8/13] - A triangle well done. I continue to love the friendships being important and the group scenes are so good. ThamePo are quickly becoming a favourite thai bl couple for me. The romance is so good and I'm constantly in a very undignified state of euphoria while watching them.

🇯🇵 When It Rains, It Pours [4/7] - Just misery. All around. More here.

🇹🇭 Your Sky [11/12] - Hia and Real need to get on with it. Lee and Ghlai need their own show. Teerak and Fah continue to be the most lovable couple in all the land.

QL - Finished

🇹🇭 Caged Again - Junior was delightful but the show got a bit choppy towards the end, there was too much time spent on the bad guys and I think the pacing suffered so the show lost me a bit in the last couple of episodes. JuniorSun delivered some great moments. I continue to love Nokia and Jaonine and will tune in if they make another show.

🇹🇭 Fourever You - I can't believe it's over. This was a long, hard slog. I like most of the actors a lot and they were what kept me going until the end. Hill and Ter get all the awards for miscommunication.

🇯🇵Miseinen - I think it started off really good but eventually the show got too much into the metaphors and the visuals and the story suffered. I really recommend reading the manhwa because I think the themes in the show kinda fell apart at some point and in that way I think the source material is much more satisfying. I still like the show overall and the actors did a wonderful job, but the show raised my expectations a lot and then couldn't really deliver.

🇹🇼 See Your Love - I love them a normal amount. That scene in the closet will make any favourite scenes list in the foreseeable future. This show did a lot of things well. The dad was still an asshole by the end, Ji Xiang wasn't magically fixed by the power of love, Shaopeng wasn't perfect and his family was one of the best parts and that dad vs dad scene was epic. With that said, everything else, the family drama and the side couple, was a mess. They all kiss good tho. As we've come to expect from Taiwan the kissing was very good all around, as were the nc scenes. I think they all had good chemistry, although I wish the side couple's story was tighter.

Others - Watched

It's been mostly a month of rewatches so not a lot to report. I did watch Paradise of Thorns a couple of weeks ago and I still have a lot of hate in my heart. Also squid game S2 , which I loved but pissed me off that they split the storyline into two seasons cause now I have to wait until June for the rest. Anyway...

I think that's all for now. Oh and I'm also watching and loving Red Blue. Despite what I said at the start, I'm still open for gif requests. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend and thank the heavens January is finally over. 💜

Coming in February 05/02 - 🇹🇭 Reverse with Me (GL) 06/02 - 🇰🇷 Heart Stain 07/02 - 🇻🇳 Fight for Love 08/02 - 🇹🇭 Gelboys 14/02 - 🇹🇭 The Last Time 14/02 - 🇹🇼 Exclusive Love 18/02 - 🇹🇼 Fragrance of the First Flower S2 (GL) 27/02 - 🇰🇷 Secret Relationship

[ask-trashhunter]

Ok folks!!! OOC post!! I have 16 Trash Hunter designs now, which means I should be able to run a bracket tournament that lines up pretty neatly! :D

First though I wanna introduce you to all the designs I've done so far!!

All of these have a unique name for voting purposes, but don't worry about remembering them all I'll show pictures of them every time!

Human Hunter 1

Starting off simple, this is Human Hunter 1! The OG, the classic, my pfp! Honestly I kinda rushed this design bc I made this blog on a whim, so I had to make the design super quick! I spent like a little over an hour on this, and I had only really spent 15 extra minutes beforehand thinking about their design, so that's around 1 and a half hour total...... Idk how long I spent on the others. Anyway, basically their top half is pretty human looking, EVERYTHING about them is as green as I managed to get it (green is Their Color to me) and then their bottom half is basically meant to just be a trashy sludge that sort of melts and merges with their landfill. It's hard to tell where the landfill starts and where Trash Hunter ends. Oh yeah- and I have like 3 drawings of them in this style, their skin tone varies a LOT between each drawing lol. um. you haven't seen. the third one btw haha. it's totally not of me and trash hunter holding hands why would you even say that

Human Hunter 2

Alright, this is my second "human" Trash Hunter design. I wasn't quite happy with my first one, so I wanted to change it to something more like this. However!! I never actually got to finish my design until I watched something that changed the way I thought forever. I finished this drawing just this monday actually, because I'd forgotten I had no finished drawing of Human Hunter 2. I want you to remember that giant grapply arm they have and those spider legs. Also, you'll notice there's a line next to them, and it says "Cop" under. That's how tall Copper would be (per my headcanons) next to the various Trash Hunter designs. They really vary in size. For reference, I headcanon Copper as 152 cm, or 5 feet. I'll add a size chart in at the end- they won't be 100% accurate to the pictures but it'll be in the same area at least.

Trashbag Hunter

Ok this. This is where my life changed. I watched the hodgepodge audio new year's patreon video and got friggen mentioned. Hi Raddagher if you're seeing this I'm still not normal about Trash Hunter. I started feeling a bit insecure about my designs like I'd been boring about them so I was trying to redeem myself. When I started imagining Trash Hunter as a fucking trash bag with grillspyd- er- collapsible grilling skewer thingies- for legs. And holy FUCK I could not get the image out of my head it's hillarious and adorable. Relisten to the episode and imagine Trash Hunter like this TRUST ME /nf

Either way, this is where I started to expand my horizons. The trash bag and the grillspyd are sort of reocurring atp. Also this was my Discord pfp for a while, now I've changed it. Might change it back eventually honestly? I don't do that. I don't repeat profile pictures ever. Ok I might have done that at some point. But for now my pfp stays the same. This is my PFP over on bluesky though!

Anyway this is the cutest shit I've ever imagined- the drawings that follow are mostly random doodles I've made at D&D or during class. BUT FIRST!!!

Pony Hunter

Ok so I play ponytown. I played a bit ages ago and then I almost forgot it existed, then my friendo kept showing off what they were doing on there and I'd seen a few vids on it recently and long story short I've made 16.5 new ponies on there and most of them are Hodgepodge Audio themed. Ponytown Pony Hunter doesn't usually wear that turtle but in this screenshot they do. The drawn version shows a bit more how I actually view them though. Oh and that IS a croissant behind their ear, thanks for asking!! (I've been waiting to say that for months, I'm overjoyed now)

Their tail is a compact mirror btw! And that tarp they have in game, those are actually wings, teehee! Oh and I forgot to say why they have croissants behind their ears- basically I was looking at the horns and realized one set of horns was kinda curvy in a croissant-y way. So I was like eh, heck it. Croissants.

Seagle Hunter

This is where the chaos started. I was at DND, and we were on a quest to help a god. We met a seagull who was definitely not a fucking seagull. I ended up getting downed and when we were like what, 5 hp away from killing whatever creature was wrecking our shit, our 2 remaining teammates fucking left us. My character Thomoras only survived because one of our teammates asked the seagull to intervene, and the seagull fucking killed the creature. Thank you, seagull. I called you Karl but I never got your real name. I'm sure you wouldn't have answered if I asked. Anyway!! All that talk about seagulls that session got me thinking "Seagull. Trash Hunter. Trash Hunter seagull." this is an accurate depiction of how I think Always. So yeah I drew them as a seagle (<- that's how I prefer writing seagull) and I was like hell yes let's draw them as more silly things because I focus better when I draw!

So I started asking people for ideas.

Goblet Hunter

And this is officially were I lost it I think. I mean, I learned to disregard canon with this. I have a few different Little Guys as I call them, and they're definitely not canon at all, BUT THEY'RE SO CUUUUTE HELLO!!! 😭😭 I asked my DND buddy to give me a random item and so I drewed this bc they said goblet....... I fucking love these so much honestly

Soup Hunter

I love soup. What more is there to say? They call me the soup enjoyer. I switch in whenever we're about to have soup. I soup my faves. I spam the soup emoji (🥣) when I get too excited for words. It had to be done! It just had to! If you want you can imagine the soup is garbage soup. Or you know those witch potions a lot of people made as a child? Using acorns and grass and flowers and whatever you could find? Could be that too. Or maybe it's brogle soup becos it's my fave and they are my fave :)

Perfectly Generic Object Hunter / PGO Hunter

It had to come eventually. The Homestuck reference. My friend said for me to make them cube and I was like "I heard Homestuck, yes? Homestuck it is."

So yeha they're a green cube now :3

Egg Hunter

They're an egg now. They're just a huge fucking egg and they roll around. They just roll around.

I'm not allowed to add more images hold your horses for the reblog, I'll get image IDs done before I post this though so next reblog should be up in not all that long

[guillemelgat]

Language Goals 2025

As I said in my last post, I'm slowly getting better at figuring out how to set goals which both push me out of my comfort zone and which actually orient me towards what I'm trying to do. This year my main goal is to just remember how to be a learner again; I feel like recently I've gotten a little too in-my-head about how I need to be perfect before I speak, and actually this tends to be a problem I have in general - I won't talk to people unless I feel like I can talk perfectly, but that's not how you learn. I'm also trying to get better at setting reasonable timelines for what it takes to get to a particular level of language, which I have a better feel for at this point, and taking into account how much time I'm spending on the language every day (it shouldn't feel overwhelming if it's supposed to be a brief warmup). With these in mind, here are my goals for the year:

CATALAN

This year, I really want to speak Catalan with more people. That's the bottom line. I'm at a level where I need to be doing language immersion, and that means not being shy about not knowing how to say things or starting off the conversation wrong or any number of things (this historically has been less of a problem for Catalan with me, but for some reason I was absolutely taken out last summer and essentially went partially mute from social anxiety, so we're going to find out what was up with that and try to coax me away from it). I also want to learn to speak the Valencian dialect of Catalan better, and hopefully I'll get the chance to do that!

I'm planning to continue my reading challenge as well, but I'm going to make a separate post about that.

BASQUE

I want to improve my Basque vocabulary, and also my listening comprehension skills. I want to finish Eskamak kentzen and also watch/listen to more things in Basque. I think I just need a whole bunch of audio input - I know a lot of the words, but it's still very hard for me to parse them in speech. In order to improve my vocabulary, I want to do a quick vocab review every day when I get to the library, before I start my work. That way, I'll have a constant, easy, long-term exposure to a wider variety of words, and hopefully after a few months I'll start remembering some!

WELSH

I'm not entirely sure what I want to do with Welsh this year - I feel a bit directionless with it, so I might put it on pause until it feels like the right time to take it up again. But I'd also like to get more listening and vocabulary practice - I can understand large portions song lyrics without looking them up, which is a huge step forward for me. If watching Rownd a Rownd seems like the vibe, I might try to take that up again. We'll see, this one is more open.

MALAYALAM

Mostly, my goal with Malayalam is just to keep taking class, but also I'd really like to get over my fear of speaking. I struggle to pronounce a lot of the letters, and I don't know a lot of words, but if I work on these, I think I'd feel more confident. (I do also just need to feel okay with looking like a fool, though.) By the end of the year, I hope I'm able to have conversations in class or with my family without wavering too much, even if I forget something or mess up the pronunciation.

OTHER LANGUAGES

One main thing I want to work on is learning how to learn a small amount of a language but still being able to use it with people. There are a few different languages which I've wanted to learn for a while but haven't had the time - I'm hoping that maybe I can work up the courage to learn a few phrases, talk to someone, and perhaps learn a thing or two. This is very open-ended, but it's more a challenge for me to expand my comfort zone.

Aaaand that's a wrap! Here's to 2025 being a good year for languages, at least!

[1heartfanfics]

Stitched up

As promised, a destiel fic next. Set sometime after they're living in the bunker and Cas is newly human. Destiel is cannon-ish in this fic but not explicitly stated. Sam knows though lol.

---

"Nice job out there team, that was a rough one," Dean said as they walked down the steps to the bunker. They were all worn, beaten and bruised from taking down a nasty vamps next in Missouri. "Anybody need medical attention?" he asked.

Sam, who had been favoring his right leg since getting tossed down a flight of stairs, shrugged and limped over to the table to sit down. "Sprained my ankle probably but I'm alright other than that I think," he said.

Dean considered this answer, giving Sam a once over, and decided that it was honest enough. "Cas?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Dean," Cas said quickly.

"I'll be the judge of that. Sit down and take off your shirt," Dean said, gesturing to the chair across from Sam. Cas had a pretty gnarly blood stain on one sleeve of his coat that Dean was concerned about.

Cas sighed but walked over to the chair and sat down. He peeled off his coat and his shirt, leaving him in just a white tee. Sure enough, there was a pretty deep gash running down the side of Cas's bicep.

"See this Cas? This is not 'fine'," Dean huffed, getting up to grab the first aid kit.

"I didn't even feel that," Cas mumbled, looking down at his arm in surprise.

"You were hopped up on adrenaline," Dean shrugged. "It happens. Bet you feel it now though huh?" he asked.

Cas nodded with a wince. Dean was right. His arm was throbbing where the cut was now.

"Don't worry, I'll get you fixed up. You're gonna need some stitches though. I'm guessing you've never had any?" Dean asked.

Cas shook his head.

"Right. Here, drink up," Dean nodded, handing his flask over. Cas looked at it warily. He'd tried Dean's booze before and was never very impressed. It tasted like rubbing alcohol.

"It's the closest thing we've got to anesthetic," Sam piped up from across the table. "I'd take at least a couple sips if I were you," he added, having been stitched up many times himself.

So Cas took a couple drinks, wincing after each one. It did help to dull the pain in his arm some. He felt fuzzy. And warm.

"Yeah, that's the point Cas," Dean chuckled, getting his supplies ready on the table.

Oh. Cas hadn't realized he'd been speaking out loud.

"I'm gonna clean it first, it'll sting quite a bit but won't last long," Dean said, before pouring rubbing alcohol down Cas's arm. Cas flinched, drawing in a breath. But Dean was right, it faded as quickly as it had come.

Dean threaded a needle with a pack of sutures that they'd stolen from who knows where, then doused both with alcohol as well.

"Alright, here comes the bad part. This is gonna hurt a lot, but I'll be as quick and gentle as I can. If you need a break, just say the word and we'll stop for a minute okay?" Dean said, giving Cas the rundown. Cas nodded, but he looked nervous.

So Dean leaned toward Cas, bracing one hand on his good shoulder to keep him steady, his other hand wielding the needle. He paused a few inches away from Cas's skin.

"You're gonna want to hold onto something," Dean added.

Cas silently reached up to grab a handful of Dean's sleeve, of the arm that wasn't about to sew up his flesh. That hadn't been exactly what Dean had meant, but it would work.

As Dean went in with the needle the first time Cas gasped, body jerking in surprise from the pain. Dean pressed into Cas's shoulder to keep him steady as he put in the first stitch. When he started the second, Cas kept still, but hissed through his teeth, eyes squeezing shut.

"You're doing good Cas," Dean mumbled, going in for a third stitch.

"Stop," Cas whispered, "Stop, please."

"Alright, alright, let me just finish this one," Dean said, pulling the needle through. "It would hurt a lot more if I left it in trust me," he said, knotting it off.

"Fuck that hurts," Cas swore, something he normally didn't do, despite how much time he spent with Dean.

"Yeah, I know. We're about halfway done though," Dean said.

Cas nodded, taking a deep breath and wiping the sweat off of his face with his uninjured arm. Then he nodded at Dean, "I'm ready," he said.

Dean nodded, resuming his previous position. Cas latched onto his arm again as he began the next stitch.

It ended up taking 7 stitches in total. By the time Dean was finished Cas had tears streaming down his face, but he'd managed to power through the last 4 without stopping.

"That's it, Cas. Hard part's done. You did good," Dean told him. He dropped the needle and sutures down onto the table and picked up a damp rag.

"I'm just gonna clean it up now, alright? It'll hurt a little but it should be nothing compared to what you just did," Dean explained. Cas nodded, reaching up to wipe the tears off of his face. Dean could see his hand shaking and gave Cas's knee a squeeze of support before he got to work cleaning the blood and grime from around the wound. When he was finished, he carefully wrapped it in gauze and taped it in place.

"All done," Dean said, sitting back.

"Thank you," Cas said, voice shaking slightly.

"Why don't you go lay down for a while Cas. You're not gonna pass out are you?" Dean asked, noticing how pale Cas was.

"No, I'm okay," Cas shook his head. But Dean still watched him carefully as he stood up, walking slowly out of the dining room and turning down the hall toward the bedrooms.

"How come you've never stitched me up like that?" Sam asked. Dean jumped, he'd forgotten Sam was there. "You don't let me take breaks," Sam added, smirking at his brother.

"Shut up," Dean said, rolling his eyes, but he looked away as he felt his face flush.

Sam laughed, enjoying watching his brother squirm for once.

[longlivedelusion]

Stress Reliever

Summary: Your regular checkup with your doctor who also happens to be your boyfriend goes... differently than you imagined.

Warnings: Smut. Eating out. Reader is afab. Some ice play. Minor angst.

A/N: This is inspired by this post because I'm feral and Love & Deepspace has become a hardcore fixation. We are locked in baby! Enjoy Zayne girlies~ (I know I did).

It had been a few months since Zayne and I started officially dating, and today marked the second checkup I've had with him since we got together. Sure, I'd been his patient a while now, but this new dynamic of doctor/boyfriend was still an adjustment to say the least.

I struggled with what boundaries to set in times like these, even though it seemed like Zayne was a natural. He treated me like any other patient, was professional in all senses when I was in the office, just to get a text the moment I leave the grounds saying I "looked beautiful today."

So as I walked into the office with a set of papers on my latest blood work, I paused at the door and took a deep breath. Health first, girlfriend second.

That thought went straight out the door however when I walked into the room, Zayne's demeanor a cool chill that swept across the room like a brewing winter storm. 

To the average eye, he was the same cool and collected doctor that everyone knew and respected, but as someone who knew him well I could immediately tell: he was pissed.

"Hello, please have a seat." He said without looking up, gesturing to the chair across from him. I made my way over just as he finished whatever he was looking at on his computer and directed his full, cold gaze on me.

"Hi. Um, I have my latest blood work here." I said, sliding the paperwork across the desk. He grabbed the papers with ease, looking them over as the noise caused from the movement became the only sound in the room. My hands settled back onto my lap nervously, gripping and sliding across the fabric as my mind struggled to hold back the worried girlfriend side of me. Health first, health first, health first... 

He looked over the exams silently, the tension in the room gliding over me like tar as my body tensed across from his seemingly calm one. I watched as his hand tapped slowly on the table, his lips suddenly pursing.

"Your iron is low again. Have you been following the nutrition plan I prescribed?" He said, knowing I hadn't been eating at home as much lately due to late work nights. I'd told him time and time again that I'd been eating my regular, healthy meals not to worry him, but in reality I had maybe skipped a meal or two out of forgetfulness. Maybe three.

"I've been trying to, but with work I might have slipped here or there." I said, knowing there was no point to lying to him now. I tried to stop the guilt from flashing across my features.

"I see." His words clipped. He set the papers down carefully and leaned forward, linked hands together. His eyes bore into mine with a quiet fierceness I knew well, making me look away.

"I'm sorry, I'll be better about it. I'll-"

"There's no need to apologize. If you do not wish to follow my opinion as your primary care physician than that is your perogative." I couldn't read him, his emotions hidden behind stone as he stayed there a moment and then turned back to the computer. "Have you had any problems or discomfort in the past month?"

I looked at him, the familiar check-up questions throwing me out of my head a moment. "Uh, no. Everything's been good. Normal."

He nodded and continued typing. More silence. I felt my skin begin to itch as I struggled to hold to my earlier mantra. Was he mad at me? Did something happen today and I just made it worse? I know he worries.

"Seems we are all done here then. I just sent the signed certificate to your Captain, so you are free to go."

Wait what? "...just like that?" I asked. Normally he would avoid signing until I promised to take better care of myself or would at least scold me slightly before doing anything. Something was definitely up. 

"Yes." He said, not looking up. "I will see you in a few months."

I stood, taking that as a my cue to leave, but as I reached the door I paused. I felt the pull towards my partner, the desperate need to understand, to talk, to say fuck these boundaries and-

"Zay- Dr. Zayne." I hesitated as I turned back around. "Are you alright?"

He stilled for a fraction of a second before he continued his typing. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem off today and I was just concerned-"

"I'm quite alright." He said and didn't even look at me. He kept just typing and typing. I wasn't, couldn't take the next 9 hours waiting for him to get off work before I figured out what was going on. I'd go insane.

"Zayne," I said softly. "Please? Talk to me? I know we agreed to separate our work and personal lives but I'm really worried, this isn't like you. I know it's not just the iron thing."

He sighed, shoulders falling slightly as he closed his eyes. "It's nothing, darling. We can speak about it at home."

I move to the desk again, but this time around to face the side of my seated partner. "You won't be home for another 9 hours." My hand reached out to push his short hair behind his ear. "But if you really don't wanna talk about it, I understand."

He nuzzled into my hand, silent for a moment before he spoke, "It's the board. They've been reducing staff and resources from the Protocore Syndrome rehabilitation center in Maple Ridge due to the increase of need in other areas, but the cases in that area are unlike anything we've seen in other locations. They are pushing the staff already as is, yet they want to reduce it more."

He turned, moving my body in between his legs as his head settled on my chest. "I've been arguing with them all week about this and yet they won't listen. If they do this, a lot of people will die." He added with a sigh.

I keep stroking his hair back. "Oh, baby I'm so sorry. Maybe the Hunter's Association can help back up your claims? Maybe it'll be enough pull to get you the resources you need."

He shakes his head. "I've tried, but unless there's a public outcry or some miracle, I don't think there's much else we can do."

I gently pull his head back and he looks up at me with a slight furrow in his brow. "Don't give up. There had to be something else we're missing." I say, determination in my voice. "You're the Dr. Zayne, you'll find a way. I know it."

His eyes softened, looking at me with fondness and trepidation. "I may be good at my job, but I'm no miracle worker."

I shrug, "Maybe, maybe not, but you are stubborn. And determined. And that goes a long way."

And there, from the corner of his lips drew a small smile, "You are very good at comforting others, you know."

I smiled back, kissing his forehead gently. "I've been told once or twice." I pull back, and look at him again. "Is there anything I can do to help? Really, I wanna help you if I can." 

He paused, thinking deeply for a moment before he tilted his head to look at the door. "Perhaps there is one thing that you could do."

"What? Anything." I said with no hesitation.

He reached over to his comms channel and dialed the receptionist. "Miss Liǔ, please hold my appointments for 30 minutes and make sure nobody comes to my office in that time. I have an important call."

"Yes, Dr. Zayne."

The call ended and in that second I felt hands on my thighs as Zayne stood and lifted me onto the table. "Anything?" He repeated, face now mere centimeters from mine.

My breath hitched as I tried to form a single thought beyond fuck in that moment. "Zayne, this is your work, I mean anyone could hear us."

"Then I suppose you need to stay quiet then, don't you darling?" From his hand his Evol swirls until a cube of ice lands between his fingers, and he pulls back. "Open."

My eyes widen at the command but I do as he asks, mouth wide as he placed the cube on my tongue. The ice wasn't too cold surprisingly, but it still numbed my mouth somewhat.

"Don't stop sucking this cube, understood?" He said as he dropped to his knees. "Not until I tell you."

I nodded, pupils blown wide as I watched him make quick work of my pants. He shoved them down my legs, his mouth searing into my skin as he began his ascent up my thighs. His kisses were reverent, unrushed despite the ticking clock, the dual sensations of the cold and heat now rising in my body as I dropped my head and closed my eyes.

I felt his mouth inch it's way up, up, up closer to the growing wetness between my legs. I was still covered in that sense, and despite Zayne barely having touched me I was already brimming at the seams with want. It was always that way with him, somehow he could have me from 0 to 100 with barely a breath. 

Which, in that moment an actual breath took me from my thoughts as his mouth ghosted over my cunt. He drifted around it, yet never quite touching where I wanted. I felt everything leave my mind in that moment as a soft moan got stuck in my throat. I couldn't speak, couldn't beg, couldn't anything. So I settled for the next best thing.

I reached forward, hand grabbing onto his hair as I locked eyes with him, exuding every pleading thought I could into that stare. He simply chuckled and grabbed my hand, placing a gentle kiss on it before settling it back on the desk. "Patience, darling. I'm taking my time. After all, I need to relax."

With that he nuzzled into my clothed core, nose flickering over my clit as he let in a small inhale. "God, you smell divine." He said, the movement making me grip the desk. He licked a small stripe from the bottom up making me lift my body in reaction.

"You taste divine too."

He reached up to the edges of my panties, pulling them down and away as he greeted my now glistening core. His hands gripped my thighs as he let out a breathy "beautiful" before licking a long stripe up my folds.

Another moan got stuck in my throat as he began to suck on my sensitive bud, his tongue soothing it at random intervals before diving down and up again. The way his mouth moved over me, the care, the gentle lick to a fevered suck had my mind reeling. I started pulsing my hips upward, desperate to get more pressure where I needed, but Zayne just kept going at his own designated pace.

His hands tightened on my thighs as he pushed them down, a silent order as his mouth continued his ministrations, my juices slowly dripping down his chin and onto his desk.

My hands reached back for support as I instead sucked on the cube on my tongue for some sort of extra stimulation. One of my hands reached for my chest, pinching and kneading as my muffled keens grew more desperate.

Zayne was not a selfish lover by any means, but in this moment he couldn't care less about anything but his face between my thighs.

With the impending countdown of the clock, I felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through my system as desperation kicked in. I tried to open my mouth to speak, but the words struggled to come out with the ice on my tongue. "Pwease" was all I managed, the ice balancing on my tongue awkwardly as I spoke.

His eyes shot up to me, his mouth slowing and pushing back to an agonizing pace. It made me whine in frustration as Zayne's hand gave a warning squeeze. A reminder of who this was for and who was in charge here. But, to also trust him.

At that thought, the pressure began again and a new sensation filled my body as a finger began to press in. My body tensed at the intrusion, a muffled moan escaping Zayne's mouth from the tightness as he started to suck just a bit harder. His finger pushed in and out at a casual pace, curling and twisting as he explored its tight walls.

I sighed and nodded, legs widening as I struggled to keep myself in check. What mattered was he was getting what he needed to relax, and if that was by eating me out, well. Who was I to complain?

Whimpers and whines stayed caught in my throat as he began curving his fingers into a spot he knew well, one he knew that could have me screaming in any other circumstances. Despite the ice cube in my mouth, if anyone listened close enough to the door of infamous Dr. Zayne they would hear the desperate whines of his partner and the sounds of his fingers ravaging my cunt.

My body began writhing against the desk, pushing against him as he pumped his fingers. I reached forward, one hand still on the desk while the other grabbed his hair for dear life. He was a man enjoying every single bite of his meal, slowly, intentionally, yet desperate for more. 

Soon, a second finger pressed in, stretching me to heaven.

Closer and closer it built, the need to cum. Just that, a need. Zayne could tell too, his movements growing faster as he pumped into me hard and fast, tongue swirling and sucking with just the right pressure. My nerve endings felt alive, the cool ice barely grounding me in the present while his mouth kept me afloat in the sky. I could feel it growing closer and closer until-

"Mmm!" I sucked hard on the ice while I lurched forward, body shaking as my orgasm hit me with barely a warning. His hands pressed into me lazily through the aftershocks before he eventually he let them go and his mouth replaced them. He licked and sucked any remainder of cum before sucking his fingers clean as well. He let out a deep sigh.

"Incredible," he mumbled, a small smile on his lips as he rubbed gentle circles on my thighs. He stood then, leaning over me as he gently kissed my lips. The ice cube melted between our tongues as his Evol dissolved the magic and I sighed in relief.

"Thank you, darling." He said as he pulled back, forehead against mine. "I needed that."

I smiled, head reaching to stroke his cheek. "I'm glad to help." I said, the sincerity coating my words before I looked down. "What about you though? I can-"

He stopped my hand before it could touch him, moving it up to his lips instead. "I got everything I needed." He said as he kissed my palm, and then every finger. "I'm quite happy like this."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

He looked up then and smiled, the tension from earlier completely melted away. "Absolutely."

[wishfulsketching]

Girl dad Silco is a source of endless entertainment for me

Extra doodles:

Someone save Sevika, she is in hell

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl