#especially for my first one with real people

[isa-ghost]

OHHHHH YOU DON'T KNOW.

This was *my* final Dr*m controversy straw, this is what made me give up on his stupid ass and stop liking & watching him. This was back in 2021 or 2022, not sure which.

Prior to this controversy, his only big ones were the "accidental" speedrun cheating and a few instances of being really fucking immature towards random haters on Twitter, iirc at least. Whatever the case, the existing reasons you could hate and unstan him for at the time were very few, and small enough or Just insignificant (for a lack of better term) enough that I still followed him, but wasn't defending him bc I acknowledged he was in the wrong for them (woah, nuance in a Dr*m stan? Alert the press!!!) However, I was already well on my way to loathing GNF & S*pnap bc their stans USED to be the ones who were the worst abt fans of other dsmp members and such. To the point where I couldn't stand GNF in Dr*m's videos. Less important, I digress.

ANYWAY. I don't remember how the KKK edit was originally found or who found it, but it was proven to be real by using the Wayback Machine (screenshots & screen recordings of people using it to find the edit). Years and years ago Dr*m had one of those shitty deep fried dank meme doritos & mountain dew 4chan user ass ""funny"" edits only edgy incels like, and it was of the KKK.

Idr much of the edit itself BUT when it was discovered and blew up, Dr*m posted at first that it wasn't real (lying), and *then* people used Wayback Machine to prove it was, and when it was proven to be real Dr*m suddenly backtracked and said it *was* real but 🥺 He Gwew Up Wepubwican And Wasn't Tawt Abouwt Stuff, Pwease Fowgive Him He's Nawt Wike That Anymowe, He's Nawt Wacist!!!

Needless to say, his "apology" fucking sucked, as usual, who is surprised. On top of lying about it existing to begin with, and instead of, yknow, deleting the edit completely, because why wouldn't you, especially if you're supposedly not racist? All he did was private it. Never deleted it. (Or maybe he deleted it after people pointed out that he only privated it, idr since it was so long ago.)

I don't have Twitter anymore and haven't for years, but I did when this all came out. This thread of every shitty thing he's done up to a certain point (probably up until 2023 or smth) includes the KKK edit in it, if I'm not mistaken. Since I don't have Twitter I can't actually look at anything but the original tweet of the thread, so I don't remember what the thread includes.

Either way, it's a long list of garbage things he's done (not just allegations, actually real things he did). So it's worth looking at and spreading around.

So yeah. Reblog and signal boost this, yall. Let's free some more Dr*m stans who aren't morally bankrupt idiots like him. They may be the Tr*mpie equivalent of mcyt fans but the r slur shit has some of them waking the fuck up finally, so let's see if this thread helps too.

DREAM IT'S ME YOUR 100% NUMBER ONE FAN. DOUBLE DOWN. SAY NIGGA. PLEASE IT'S IMPERATIVE YOU'LL GET ALL YOUR FANS BACK. I'M GIVING YOU THE PASS SAY NIGGA. SAY THE HARD R

[3amfanfiction]

Our Girlfriend pt 2

The morning after.

You can thank @disasterofastory for this piece about the morning after you had four men in your bed. Considering you'd never spoken to two of them, how is this going to go? 1.5k little ficlet of a scene. A little bit of fluffy sweetness to even out the pure smut of the first chapter.

Part one

The bed was almost empty by the time you woke up, only you and Johnny remaining. You were curled up to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as your eyes peeled open, sticky with sleep.

You didn't move at first, just laid there content to breathe in the still morning air where nothing needed to be done. There were no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete . . . it was just you, existing.

You watched as the thick chest under your cheek raised up as he drew in the breath to speak. Your quiet morning was about to be disturbed. You held onto the few split seconds you had remaining, locking onto this peace to get you through your day.

"You awake, love?"

Because real life always came knocking.

You hummed an assent, not interested in trying to force your tongue into shapes that would make words. You felt wonderfully wrung out, with only the things occurring right this moment needing thought. There wasn't any stress about yesterday or any worry about tomorrow.

Johnny stroked along your back gently with calloused fingers, a slight tickling scratch to go along with the warm caress. It roused you enough to turn and press a kiss to the warm skin you were laying on, a non-verbal 'good morning' in place of any proper greeting.

Johnny pressed a return kiss to the crown of your head, never ceasing the running of his palm over your back. You really did love him. You knew it was fast, that people say there was no way it would last because of how quickly you two fell together but you ignored them. Johnny was something special and you were thankful he was in your life.

The sun had shifted slightly when he spoke again. "How do you feel this morning?"

As a matter of fact . . .

"Johnny." Firm. You know he'll try and wiggle his way out of an answer if he catches any hint of weakness. "What was that last night?"

He didn't respond at first. After a moment you tilted your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, a serene look on his face with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It was nice, wasn't it? I can't believe I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it though. Don't worry, love, I'll be making it up to you." He was coming to life with every word spoken. His face more animated, fingers starting to twitch and legs rubbing together. You knew you only had a few more minutes in bed before he would be up and gone—ready to start another day.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did they all talk like we were dating? What have you been telling them?"

"Nothing that wasn't true, I promise." He turned to look beseechingly into your eyes, ensuring you saw the truth in what he was saying. "I told them about you, of course. How amazing you were—always looking out for me, being so understanding, not taking any of my shite." He grinned at the last one, ever amused by your backbone, "and they fell in love with you, just like I did. And then you went and showed me that you loved them back and I couldn't let it go. I had to bring the four of you together."

Immediately you clocked what he meant. "Johnny MacTavish, those muffins weren't—they didn't mean—" How could you even begin to explain away this misunderstanding? Especially after what happened last night? You didn't get any further before the bedroom door opened.

"Good morning, sleeping beauties," Kyle beamed as he walked in holding two coffee cups. "You two finally ready to join the rest of us?"

Oh shit. The rest of them.

How are you going to face them? You'd never even properly met two of them and you let them into your bed. You'd let the man standing in the doorway come in your mouth last night. You've never even spoken to him.

All of a sudden you found yourself tongue-tied, unable to do anything more than mumble a shy thank you as you were handed your cup of coffee. Starting to sit up you realized you were still completely naked under the blanket and looked around self-consciously for a shirt to pull on.

Kyle saw slight panic in your eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. It was the one Simon had worn last night. You thought about putting up a fuss, asking for one of your own but in the end you graciously accepted, more worried about being covered in the bold light of day than worrying about who's shirt you wore.

Comfortably covered once more you turned to face the two men, looking at you with differing shades of the same smile. You felt around the corners of your mouth and eyes to make sure there weren't any lingering crusties before you took a sip of your coffee. Your eyes widened and darted up to Kyle's face.

"Johnny hasn't stopped talking about you since he you met. Any one of us could make your drink with our eyes closed by now," he teased gently, good-natured mirth shining through his warm eyes. "I hope you don't mind, we took liberties with your kitchen. Cap and Simon are finishing breakfast right now. Well," he allowed with a small shrug, "The captain is, Simon isn't allowed near the stove. Not unless you want a bit of char on your food."

"You didn't have to do all that, here let me . . . " You worked to pull yourself from the bed without spilling your coffee or flashing anyone. "Let me get dressed and I'll be down. They're guests, they shouldn't be cooking." Of all the things. You didn't truly mind the thought of them in your kitchen but it felt like you should protest on principle. When you stood up your hips gave a worrying twinge and you braced yourself against the mattress. Yeah, maybe you should just leave them be after all.

It was embarrassing how quickly Johnny and Kyle were at your side, clearly no worse for wear after the night you all had. You'd like to see them jump up like that after having their hips spread around another's torso. Not so easy then, huh?

Waving them off exasperatedly you gingerly left the room and headed for the kitchen. You walked in just in time to see John swatting at Simon, shooing him away from the stove where he had picked up a spatula and was attempting to stir the eggs. You must have made some sort of noise because both men turned to look at you, freezing as they took you in. Standing in the kitchen with bare legs and Simon's black t-shirt, Kyle and Johnny clustered behind you, you must have made quite the sight. John was the first to come to his senses, pushing the utensil back into Simon's hand distractedly and walking over to you.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He looked you up and down, "we weren't too rough with you last night, I hope?" he questioned with a raised brow, his soft-looking mustache bristling with the movement of his mouth. It twitched while he waited for your answer—worried but fighting not to show it.

"I'm good," you reassured, "Better than, even." You smiled sweetly up at him, enjoying watching the tension leave his face, the little furrow between his brow disappearing. It almost startled you, how fond you were of these men. It was strange.

You didn't know the exact shade of blue John's eyes were but you knew he needed reading glasses if it was late at night and he was still working on paperwork. You'd never seen the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck but you knew he liked deep-tissue massages after tough missions.

So strange. You knew them intimately and as strangers all at once, a unique dichotomy to be in. You wondered if they felt the same way. They knew how you took your coffee and what you would normally make for yourself for breakfast. Was it so hard to believe they were in the same boat as you? That they knew you as deeply as you knew them?

You found it was easy to fall into their orbit. All of them drifting around the others in ever-changing patterns. Present but not suffocating.

They liked to keep a hand on you though, for all that they gave each other room to breathe. They would take turns standing beside you after you took a seat—a hand placed low on your back as they came in for a kiss or moving over to hold your hand while they spoke about anything under the sun.

You laughed when the eggs Simon had been tasked to look over had to be tossed out after smoke started wafting from the pan. The happy peals doing more to settle the men than you knew, because hadn't you realized? They were already falling for you too.

Next

[ghouljams]

The Church of the Broken God (chapter 2)

Words: 5k Tags: Eventual John Price x reader, public masturbation, brainwashing, doublespeak, indoctrination, f!reader, passively suicidal ideation, self destructive habits, horrible bosses, depressed!reader, Cult Leader!Price Summary: Your life has been on a downward spiral for months. It's hard to find a real reason to keep going when everything you do seems to backfire. That is, until you get a flier for a meditation seminar that promises to fix all your problems.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

These women are… super nice. You don’t know why it puts you on edge. They’re not doing anything wrong. They buy each other drinks, compliment each other, they’re attentive listeners and laugh at every joke you make. You offer to buy a round, the same as they’ve been doing for you, and you’re not met with a rush to stop you. They look pleased, shoot off thanks and smile the same as they did for the other women. You feel like you’re doing the right thing, you don’t know why it makes your stomach squirm. Maybe you’re just not used to people doing nice things for you.

“You ok?” Nina asks, leaning over the table to frown at you, “you’ve gone all quiet.”

“Yeah, uh, I guess I’m just not used to crowds anymore.” You attempt to cover.

“It’s the compliments isn’t it?” Cassie jumps in, Nina waves her off.

“No, no!” You hold up your hands to defend yourself, “Those are really nice, you’re all really nice! I’m just not-”

“Used to it?” Nina finishes with a wince, “I wasn’t either, it was super awkward the first time I came out for drinks, you remember?”

“Oh my God so awkward, you were like a robot.” Cassie laughs, it takes some of the weight off your shoulders.

“But you get what you put out into the world, y’know? You give kindness, you get it in return, that’s what John says.” Nina nods, she crosses her arms and leans back against the booth. She feels serious, her jaw set and her brows drawn. “I was in a really dark place when I first took John’s class, it felt like I was living a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. My friends were drifting away, my fiance was cheating on me-” She shakes her head, you wince at how closely your situation matches, “-I was so bitter and it made me mean, I get why no one wanted to be around me.”

“Nina-” Cassie sighs, her sympathy obvious. Nina waves her off again, sitting forward to grab her drink.

“Whatever, it’s in the past now.” Nina mutters, your heart aches for her. You set a hand on her shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. She smiles at you. It feels… good. You can see yourself in her, your pain and suffering. It’s a weight that she carries the same as you. “Kyle really helped me a lot, Christ I owe him a whole bakery.”

“Nina!” Cassie squeals, shoving at her. Nina’s shoulder bumps against you, warm. Camaraderie. Did you forget what it was like to have friends? When was the last time you saw your own? The last time they laughed with each other, with you? “You’re so bad,” Cassie laughs.

“What? He’s hot!” Nina laughs back. You feel a little left out. Your stomach clenches.

“Sorry, who’s Kyle?” You ask, “Your boyfriend?”

“She wishes,” Cassie snorts into her drink. Nina shoves at her.

“He’s a counselor, life coach sort of guy.” Nina explains, “He has a class at the rec center on Wednesdays-” Claire’s phone pings “-honestly it’s worth going just to see him, God I wanna make a sandwich out of that man.”

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” Claire announces. You glance at the other women at the table. None of them move. Weird, you would have thought women this close would be biting at the bit to accompany her. You always used the buddy system with your friends. Especially at bars. In fact the other women at the table seem to ignore her, only acknowledging her enough to move out of the way. 

You guess there’s a black sheep in every friend group. You know the feeling. You tap your fingers against the table watching her retreat to the bathroom. You don’t have a good feeling about letting her go alone. Nina’s insistence on “putting kindness into the world” or whatever is running through your head and you just… you can’t let her be on the outskirts of the friend group alone. You’re not even really part of it, but everyone is being so nice- you won’t be the reason this girl is left out.

“Oh um, I’m gonna ask the bartender something,” You tell the girl on your left, shit what was her name “can you-?

“Sure!” She pushes herself out of the booth to let you out, quickly cozying up next to Nina when you vacate the spot. You glance at the table over your shoulder as you make your way towards the bar, then make a hard turn towards the bathrooms. No one’s paying attention to you, that’s good.

You push the bathroom door open, trying to be quiet in case Claire’s shy. You’ll just, uh, wash your hands and pretend you’re fixing your outfit when she comes out. Nothing weird about that. Totally normal thing that people do, and not like you’re waiting for her to come out of the stall so you can- What? Commiserate about being left out? Ugh, you don’t know why you even-

There’s a distinct, wet, noise coming from one of the stalls. A ‘shlick, shlick’ sound that you recognize all too easily. You catch the bathroom door to keep it from slamming and cover your mouth. Fingers sliding against a wet slit, a soft huff of a stifled moan, and the quiet low rumble of a man’s voice. Deep and throaty, she’s on the phone with someone, or listening to something. You can’t tell which, what you can tell is that Claire --the girl who had seemed almost too shy to ask you to join them--  is masturbating in a public bathroom. And you’re standing there listening. You’re not sure which is worse. It squirms like bile in your stomach, you’re intruding, you’re being a creep. Your own cunt clenches. 

A quiet whimper leaves Claire’s mouth and you rush back out of the bathroom. You catch the door a second time to make sure she doesn’t hear it slam, then you press yourself against it. You fan your face, try to get your breathing right, fix your face. Fix your damn face! You press your hands to your cheeks, and squeeze your eyes shut. Oh my God.

You make your way back to the table, doing your best to avoid looking at anyone. The girl who moved for you initially lights up when she sees you, hopping out of the booth and ushering you in. You feel a little awkward sliding into the middle with Nina, but you don’t want to cause a fuss with so many people watching you. Good lord do they all have to look at you? 

“Did the bartender have what you were looking for?” Nina asks. Your eyes dart to her.

“The- oh, uh, no. I was wondering if he had a phone charger.” You cover quickly.

“I have a power bank you can use,” Cassie offers. You open your mouth to turn her down before remembering that would blow your story out of the water.

“Sure.” You relent, forcing a smile onto your face. 

“No problem,” Cassie chirps, digging through her purse to tug a power bank and two different chargers free, “it feels good to do nice things for people, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you agree absentmindedly, fussing with the charger and plugging your phone in. An alert for a non-branded charger pops up and you quickly dismiss it. 

The conversation moves on to other topics, but you hardly pay attention. Your eyes are glued to the bathroom door, waiting for Claire. When she does finally exit she looks the same as when she left. No ruddy cheeks, no guilty glances around, no rumpled shirt or anything that would give away what she was doing in the bathroom. You try not to narrow your eyes as they flick over her body. You don’t want to look like you’re checking her out, you just want proof that you heard what you heard.

“Welcome back,” Someone says, and Claire beams at them.

“Who’s buying the next round?” Claire asks.

You drift in and out of conversation. Someone offers to split an uber with you, apparently they live in the same building. You wonder how you never noticed them before, but they hug you before you get off the elevator.

“It was nice to connect with you,” She hums, “it feels nice being part of something, doesn’t it?”

You don’t get a chance to answer before the doors close.

-

Wednesday, you think, flipping through your phone while you brush your teeth. Nina said her life coach guy was on wednesdays right? Curious, you check the rec center’s website.

“For the Whole You!” The site banner reads in friendly font. You scroll down to their calendar. There’s a lot of pictures of people smiling, a pie chart of something, testimonials, blah blah blah. The calendar is easy to read at least. And packed. It looks like meditations happen every three days, you spot John’s name easily. Price, huh, that’s a cool last name. Wednesdays… 

You click on the only Kyle you see, and a page pops up with- Christ- one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. Kyle Garrick, life coach with a masters in psychology. That doesn’t sound too bad. You thought life coaches were just con men in ripped jeans, but this guy seems like he might actually know what he’s talking about. John’s name pops up again, a short anecdote from Kyle about serving with him. Huh. That’s kind of interesting you guess. 

You think back on the meditation lesson you’d attended, the power that John seemed to carry in simple actions, the musculature, the way he’d pinned you in place with a single tilt of his head. Military fits you guess. You click on his class and tap your fingers against the side of your phone as you think. The class has a helpful registration counter at the side, letting you know there’s one spot left for the wednesday evening class. It’s not like you have anything else going on, and it’ll fill your usual therapy slot. It’s twenty for a single class. That’s not too bad, less than therapy co-pays. You make an account on the site, begrudgingly signing up for their email list, and send twenty dollars into the void. 

You get an email from Kyle about an hour later as you’re scrolling through instagram, avoiding looking at the time. It feels pretty standard, welcoming a new person, attaching a survey on what you want to work on. You type out a few quick words promising you’ll get to it in the morning. Your email pings a few minutes later.

“You must be an insomniac, just tackle it now.” You narrow your eyes at the screen, “Might help you sleep to accomplish a task before bed.” 

What sort of weird logic- fine. You squint at the questionnaire, typing out your answers as best you can. Honest enough to get some advice but not honest enough to get sent to the hospital has always been your MO with these things. This one is sort of weird, but you’re exhausted, too sleep-addled to pay proper attention.

Are you lonely? Do you ever feel out of place? Do you have dreams where you act as someone else? Have you heard of the law of attraction? When someone says they feel “connected” to you, how does that make you feel?

Do you ever feel talked over?

Do you ever feel pushed out of conversations? Do you find it hard to accept yourself?

Are you on the path you want to be?

You rub your eyes, typing as best you can. 

Where do you see improvement for yourself?

Describe yourself in one negative word.

You type, and type. It feels never ending. Worse than the insomnia that keeps you up. It’s nearly two hours later when you finish. You send it off to Kyle without another thought, and snuggle down into your blankets. You’re so tired.

Your phone buzzes. You roll over to check it. Another email from Kyle.

“Thanks, this looks great! :)” You sigh. At least your work checks out. That’s good, you’re sure it’s just an auto-response, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Another message pops up. Your email alerting you to a new response in the chain.

“How long have you had trouble sleeping? I know a few good remedies.” You sigh, the screen hurts your eyes. You don’t know what inspires you to reply, why you don’t simply roll over to sleep. The attention is nice, you suppose.

“A few months. What’s your miracle cure?” You stare at your phone, let the blue light laser its way over your eyes. The screen dims, you tap it to keep your phone awake. To keep you awake. 

“Have you heard of sleep restriction therapy?”

-

Your morning has never felt more miserable. You barely slept and you had to upgrade your usual tea to an instant coffee. You’re nursing the brown sludge that you managed to scrape together from the break room’s limited stores when your least favorite manager swings by your cubicle.

“Did you finish the reports I asked for?” Kevin asks. You do your best to keep your face neutral as you sip your scalding caffeine.

“I told you they’d take me until the end of the day.” You remind him, “It’s nine in the morning.” Nevermind that he’s swinging into the office a full hour late, but you know for a fact that you promised the updated numbers by five today. You have the email to prove it.

“Oh,” Kevin makes a face, his teeth grit as he exhales through them, “I was really hoping you’d work on them last night.”

“Outside of work hours.” You confirm, trying not to sound too much like you’re questioning his less than sound judgement.

Kevin sighs your name with a shake of his head, “You know you’re not going to get very far in this company if you don’t care about your work.”

You take a deep breath through your nose, inhaling as much coffee vapor as you can stomach. It does nothing to calm you down. You can’t be expected to deal with this level of bullshit on practically zero sleep. Maybe you should look into that sleep therapy Kyle sent you, you really can’t keep living like this.

“I care about my work Kevin,” You tell him with as much of a smile as you can manage, “I’ll have the reports to you as soon as possible.”

“Atta-girl,” Kevin praises, snapping his finger to hit you with a nauseating pair of finger guns before moseying back to his office.

If you thought reporting him to HR would do anything you might consider it. As it stands you’ve already tried that twice and gotten nowhere. It just made him more dedicated to making your work life hell. Crazy how they always talk about retaliation in the “Hostile work environment” training videos, but no one seems to give a shit about it when it’s happening to you.

You spend the next two hours swearing at the mess of spreadsheets that Kevin emailed you yesterday. If he’d bothered to clean any of the sheets up it would’ve made your life a hell of a lot easier. You don’t even want to think about how many cells could’ve been saved if he knew how to use just one function. You can feel the start of a migraine pressing against the back of your eyes by the time your stomach is starting to growl at you about lunch.

You glance away from your monitor to rub your eyes, try to get some of the blurry tilt out of them. Your bag sits on the desk next to you, deliriously empty. Fuck.

Fuck that’s right, you’d decided to skip packing a lunch this morning because you were running late for your train. 

With a heavy sigh you check your lunch options just as your phone pings.

It’s an unknown number, weird.

You swipe the message open to delete it and pause.

“Hey, it’s Nina! I saw you work near me and was wondering if you’d want to grab lunch?”

You blink at your phone screen. How the hell would she know where you work?

Your sluggish brain clicks away as your stomach churns nervously. You guess Cassie works at the rec center, she’d see applications that come through, membership stuff. Maybe Cassie gave it to her? Nina was the one who suggested you sign up for Kyle’s class, maybe Cassie wanted to, you don’t know, spread the good news of your signing up?

Your head throbs.

You’re not really operating at 100% right now, you’re not sure you want to interact with someone who seems to have their life together.

“My treat?” Nina double texts you.

Alright, you can pretend to be a human being for free lunch.

You’re almost relieved to see Nina has a little darkness under her eyes, purple sleeplessness that she’s tried to hide with concealer. It makes you feel a little better for your own sluggish brain to think that she might be tired too. 

“I know this is probably totally weird,” She laughs when you greet her with a raised hand, “You’re probably like, oh my god this bitch is a stalker, how does she know where I work?”

“I figure Cassie gave it to you, because I signed up for your favorite class.” You yawn, as she nods.

“That’s smart,” She says nothing about your second yawn, “wouldn’t have been my first thought.” You hum, before deciding a verbal answer is friendlier.

“Yeah, I mean it seemed sort of weird, but you don’t strike me as the stalker type.”

“Tell my ex-fiance that,” Nina says with an eye roll, “ask to share your location one time- of course I was right to be a stalker but…”

You snort and she positively beams at you. You have to squint to avoid blinding yourself in the sunshine of it. She links her arm with yours and tugs you along to walk with her. You do your best not to tug your arm out from her hold, not used to being touched so casually.

“So what are you in the mood for?” She asks, leading you down the street.

“I’m not picky,” You tell her, trying to be easy. You could really go for something warm right now, you think you might be coming down with something.

“You look exhausted,” Nina coos sympathetically, “Maybe you should go home instead. Rest.”

You rub your eye with the heel of your hand and shake your head. “I’ve got a lot to get done today.”

“Surely your boss won’t mind you taking some sick time?” She sounds so sincere, you feel bad when you bark out a laugh. Nina frowns, “One of those, huh?” You sigh, letting yourself feel the heaviness in your limbs like a sick indulgence.

“Just a few more hours,” You assure her, “Then I can go home and sleep.”

“Let’s get something good in you before then.” Nina nods to herself.

Nina orders for you and sets a steaming bowl of rice and saucy vegetables in front of you. It smells heavenly, like ginger and coconut, and there’s little crispy bits of something sprinkled on top. She has a salad, and shakes it vigorously in front of her while you mix up the yellow curry and rice. Even just the thought of the food’s warm steam settling in your stomach energizes you. You glance at Nina and she’s got her head bowed. 

You-

Pause. 

A little awkward in the face of what must be prayer. You’re not quite sure if you’re supposed to start without her, or if that’s rude. You don’t know the protocol for this. After a moment she raises her head and blinks at you.

“Oh my gosh, were you waiting for me?” She asks, scandalized. You nod, unsure what to do with your hands. You settle on spooning a heap of curry and rice into your mouth. You figure that’s fine since she’s done. “That’s really sweet of you,” She smiles. She doesn’t give you any indication if this was the right thing to do. You stare at your bowl and chew.

“I was going to invite you to hang at the rec center after work,” Nina starts, waving her fork with a sigh, “but I don’t want you to push yourself if you’re exhausted.”

“Do people hang out at the rec center?” You question, trying to remember if you saw other people there when you went yesterday. It had seemed fairly empty, almost abandoned, but maybe you’d been too focused on getting to your class to notice anything else. The class was full, so there must have been other people hanging around.

“Of course,” Nina gives you a look like you’re crazy for asking, “like all the time. It’s a nice spot just to chill and see people. John doesn’t mind us hanging around.”

John. That was the meditation instructor’s name, wasn’t it? It’s pretty common, you doubt it’s the same guy. Why would an instructor mind if people hung around anyway? Cassie had pointed you towards a lounge area last night so there must be more of those to steal for chatting.

“The meditation instructor?” You ask dumbly. It’s not the question you want to ask, but it’s the only thing that sticks on your tongue. Nina hums her assent.

“He runs the place.” She explains, “he’s super nice, really cares about bringing people together, building community, connections.”

She says the word like it means something: connections. It sticks in your sluggish mind, but doesn’t raise any red flags.

“Sounds like a good guy.” You shove another bite into your mouth.

“He is.” Nina tells you. Tells you, like she’s demanding you try and disagree with her.

You blink. There’s a coldness to her face, there and gone. She smiles, and tucks into her salad.

Maybe she’s got a thing for him. You make a note not to say anything bad about him to her.

He seemed nice, good looking, she could do worse.

You suppress a shiver at the memory of his hands on you, pushing you forward and pulling you back like it was the most natural thing in the world. His touch is the first you’ve had in a long time that didn’t make you cringe and want to squirm away. Actually his class was the most relaxed you’ve been in, well, ever and the short nap you’d taken was probably the best sleep you’d had in months. You’d almost be willing to give up on going straight home after work if you knew John was going to be at the rec center, maybe you could slip in another meditation workshop?

You want to ask Nina about it, but you also don’t want to give her the wrong idea. If she does have a crush on the guy, it’s probably not great to ask too many questions about John if you want to stay in her good graces. 

“Right,” You try, “yeah his class was great, and I’m, uh, looking forward to Kyle’s class too.” Not your best subject change, but Kyle’s name makes Nina light up.

“Oh yeah, you’re going to love it!” She assures you.

“Yeah, I- yeah,” The attitude shift has you a little stunned, your molasses thoughts stick to your tongue as you try to collect them, “He sent me this huge questionnaire last night, it was really, um, in depth?” You try to remember one of the questions but wading through your mind is difficult with so little sleep.

“Well,” Nina stabs her fork into her salad, you flinch at each punctuating crunch of lettuce, “he has to get to know you, silly, so he can help you.” You stir your curry in jerking motions, for something to occupy your hands. “You can’t pull yourself out of a hole,” Nina tells you with a blank smile, “someone has to throw you a rope.”

-

You were almost happy to get back to work. Kevin chewed you out about taking too long a lunch, and you were probably going to get an ulcer from all the tylenol you took, but you were happy getting away from Nina. She’d chatted your ear off about Kyle and somehow didn’t answer a single one of your questions about him. Not that you had any chance to get a word in edgewise. You couldn’t handle the perky tone in her voice by the time your lunch ended. At least you didn’t have to pay for your own food.

You manage to get Kevin his spreadsheets before five. You still leave the office late and thankless.

You doze on the train home, your head tugging at your neck each time the doors opened, and you barely make it into your house before you’re collapsing on the couch. 

Yeah, you couldn’t have made it to the rec center like this.

You startle awake when your ass starts vibrating. You blearily fumble for your phone  and swipe at the screen, turning off your “call Baby” alarm. You should really delete that.

You toss your phone on the coffee table with a sigh and turn onto your back to stare at the ceiling fan. Ten. You slept for a good couple hours. You’re starving.

And you’re not going to be able to sleep tonight because of this nap.

Great.

-

You consider canceling your registration for Kyle’s class as you sit on the train heading to the rec center. You could just go home. You sort of want to go home, but Cassie had called you this afternoon to confirm your registration and she’d sounded so sad when you’d asked about canceling that you just couldn’t. Also you were pretty sure it was too late to get your money back. So here you were.

At least the rec center is busier than Monday. Cassie had told you the Wednesday meditation was full, maybe this is their busy day. You see people coming in and out, and look for a familiar face in the crowd. You’re hoping to see one of the women you met Monday, but instead your eyes lock on slightly less familiar icy blues.

John smiles at you across the street, and glances both ways before jogging across. You paint on a smile for him, and try not to look like you were avoiding going inside.

“Waiting for someone?” He asks in lieu of greeting. You keep your eyes on his, the creases at the corners of his eyes deepen a little as you stare. 

“No, just-” You search for a normal time killing activity, “-people watching.” John hums and steps to stand beside you. The space he takes up feels enormous, like a black hole sucking up your attention, despite the way he crosses his arms over his chest. You peek at the bulge of his bicep against the dark shirt he’s wearing, the stiff fabric stretching to accommodate more man that it was made for. You would’ve expected him in the same comfortable yoga clothes as he was wearing Monday, but this feels more formal. He’s wearing slacks. And oxfords. 

“It’s intimidating,” He tells you out of the blue after a moment of silence. Your eyes dart to his face, and your confusion must be all too clear because he chuckles. The deep throaty noise of it makes your stomach clench. “Letting people help,” He fills in, “choosing peace.”

You make a face.

And John touches you.

His hand slides, big and warm, over your back. His fingers spread wide and he leans into your space like he might pull you closer, except you suddenly feel rooted in place. Fear shoots through you, anxiety punctuating your breaths unnecessarily. You fix your face quickly, tamp down the surge of adrenaline that makes you want to run. John isn’t doing anything but looking at you, his smile the same placid thing even as his brows twitch in concern.

“Sorry,” You find yourself apologizing, trying to unlock some of the stiffness in your shoulders, “I’m not used to people touching me.”

“It’s a natural response,” John doesn’t move his hand, his thumb rubs against your back and you feel the unnatural drag of your shirt against your skin like sandpaper, “You’re trying to protect yourself. Silly little thing that people have gotten into their heads these days, that everyone’s out to get them.” He tips his head, and you’re hit with a wave of claustrophobia, the open air seems to sink into you until you’re a single focus point in a tiny void. “Doesn’t that feel awful?” 

His words feel like they’re sinking into you, echoing every thought that bounces through your tensed musculature. It feels awful, you feel like a cornered gazelle, like a lame wildebeest, like a fly trapped in a spider’s net. 

You feel almost pleading the way you must be looking at him. Humiliated to react like this to something so simple.

He smiles brighter and his hand leaves you, you suck in a breath and feel your lungs ache, “That’s why it’s so important to pick apart that distrust, humans are social creatures, made to be connected to each other. All from the same warm pool, yeah?”

You nod. John nods his head towards the rec center.

“Let me walk you in, you’re here for Gaz’s class right?”

“No, um, Kyle’s.” You correct.

“Ah,” John laughs, his hand reappears on the small of your back, pushing you forward, “old habit, that’s what we called him in the SAS. You’ll like him, not as touchy as me.” He pulls his hand away with a small apologetic smile, “force of habit.”

“It’s fine,” it’s not, “Everyone around here is so friendly, I just have to get used to it.”

John hums, “Already untangling the web, good girl.”

Your stomach clenches pleasantly. You can see why Nina likes him.

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part IV

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

[A/N: woops, turns out that it works better to split the final bit of the story over two parts, so this means you've still got one part coming after this one! Also, please note that we spend some time in Las Vegas in this part, so there's vague mention of alcohol and drunk shenanigans]

part i part ii part iii

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

November 15th, 2026

November 17th, 2026

November 18th, 2026

[Daily Mail excerpt]

Y/N L/N, Louis Tomlinson and more arrive for Las Vegas GP Opening Ceremony

Alle eyes are on Las Vegas this week, as the city plays host to one of the most exciting Grand Prix circuits this year. Vegas never fails to deliver an adrenalin rush, and this race promises to be one for the history books. Not just for what happens on track, but also outside of it. Tonight, many F1 fans and other entertainment lovers will head to the iconic the Sphere for the Opening Ceremony concert. With names like Kygo, Chappell Roan, and Y/N L/N headlining, it’ll surely be a treat.

Of course, many will be paying particular attention to Y/N L/N, who arrived this morning with fellow singer Louis Tomlinson in tow at the stadium. The two have been friends for a long time, and are frequently seen spending time together. However, L/N’s breakup with F1 driver Lando Norris has caused some fans to wonder if there’s perhaps more than meets the eye between the two. The rumours have only been fuelled by reports of the two leaving parties together earlier this month, as they were both said to have attended Travis Kelce’s birthday in October. Representatives for L/N refused to comment.

Her latest album The Prophecy is said to have been inspired largely by the downfall of her relationship with Norris – who has steered clear of commenting so far. Critics have described the decision to have L/N perform at a GP as “aggressive”, and “potentially damaging” for the sport’s credibility. “It casts a huge shadow over what could be a decisive race for points in both the Driver’s and Constructor’s championship,” one F1 fan remarked online. Another refuted such claims, stating that it’s “F1 who invited her there in the first place, and it’s literally just a concert before the actual racing begins – calm down”.

Whether or not the singers are expected to make an appearance in any of the paddocks later this week remains to be seen.

November 19th, 2026

November 20th, 2026

[Excerpt of Y/N's interview on Jimmy Kimmel Live!]

“So your new album has been out for about a week now, and it’s projected to be at #1 – there’s a bunch of people in the audience who have literally been about here for days, trying to get tickets to this taping," Jimmy motions to a couple of fans who immediately stand up and wave at Y/N. She gasps and blows a kiss to them, “days?! Oh my gosh, thank you!" Y/N turns to Jimmy, "is it okay if I ..." she trails off before just jumping out of her seat to hug the two fans.

When she returns, Jimmy motions for her to continue speaking. "I mean it’s absolutely amazing, especially knowing that it was such a personal project and to see that reach so many people is mindblowing. I wish I could spend more time with everyone, but it’s been super hectic as well, promoting this record.”

“How is that for your family – how are they handling all the fame and attention? They must not see you very much,” he asks.

“It can be difficult for sure. They’ve always been really supportive of me chasing my dreams, and whenever it’s possible I try to fly them out or go see them. But yeah, sometimes that’s just not an option, or I’m honestly too tired to be social. I was in the UK last week, flew in to LA yesterday evening from Vegas, New York before that, and then I’m on a red-eye tonight again out of here as well. I think now that I’ve been doing this for so long, I’ve realised that sometimes you just need to let life in and hit pause. You can’t just give and give and give to everything, all at once.”

Jimmy nods emphatically. “That’s very well said – I have a really hard time picturing you not working, to be honest. What does that even look like?”

“Ha, I really love to read. I usually am carrying at least two or three books with me, and then I’ll leave them behind somewhere in a second hand shop, or those little book nooks?”

“So someone somewhere could be holding a book that you’ve read in their hands, and they wouldn’t even know it?”

“Oh 100% that’s the case.”

“If you'd only doodled in them, they'd be worth thousands of dollars, probably." He turns back to the people in the crowd. "Would you buy a book that's been read by Y/N?" They nod, and he grins. "See?"

"Now do you also use those books for inspiration when you write, or is it all just your own experiences?”

“Yeah I’ve surely gotten inspired by other artforms in the past – I think probably subconsciously even for this record. That’s where the idea of a song around a prophecy came from, fantasy novels.”

He feigns contemplation, regarding Y/N carefully. “Have you been able to change it, that prophecy? I just want you to be happy, and you didn’t seem that happy on this record.”

Y/N lets out an awkward smile and shuffles in her seat. “I think that I’ll always have difficulty letting go of this need for control, but I’d say I’m definitely in a much better place than when I wrote it. I’m happy, I’ve got great people around me who love me, so can’t complain.”

November 21st, 2026

[The Independent excerpt]

BREAKING: LANDO NORRIS WINS LAS VEGAS GRAND PRIX!

The British driver was pictured celebrating with the McLaren team immediately after the race. Fellow papaya teammate Oscar Piastri had a disastrous start to the race, but managed phenomenal overtakes that eventually handed him P3. The double McLaren podium was completed by Lewis Hamilton, who edged out Max Verstappen with a crucial undercut earlier on in the race.

Speaking on the race, Norris said that he tried to treat it as any other and not think too much about defending his lead. “I’ve got my routines, that I’m trying to stick to as much as possible. Of course there’s some extra pressure, but we’ve got a strong car and I was feeling good about our lap times all week,” he shrugs. “Las Vegas is a great, but challenging track. I’m really pleased that we got the performance up enough to cash in on the pole position this time.”

Norris has now increased his lead in the WDC, which gives him a comfortable position moving into the final races of the season.

Many celebrities were stateside to attend the Grand Prix, but perhaps most contentious was the appearance of Y/N L/N, Norris’ ex-girlfriend. After opening the GP earlier this week on Wednesday, she had seemingly left Las Vegas to promote her album across the world. However, it seems watching her ex take the win was high enough a priority to fly straight back to Vegas on Saturday. The high profile singer used to be a frequent presence in F1, but stopped attending races as their relationship deteriorated.

Norris has been dodging questions about L/N all month, as her latest album is rumoured to have been inspired by their relationship. When asked whether or not it had affected his focus on the race after qualifying, Norris was quick to shut the reporter down. “It’s completely irrelevant to talk about that when I’m sitting in pole. If I decide to meet up with an old friend that happens to be in town, then that’s what I’ll do. Might even turn out to be a good luck charm, if anything.”

It seems to indicate the two have since reconciled, as they were spotted celebrating Norris’ win together with friends.

November 23, 2026

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

You can read the previous parts by going here, part V will be out sometime next week (depends on work!)

♥ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

taglist (open) : @charlesgirl16, @linnygirl09, @hoeforsirius, @motorsportloverf1, @sarx164, @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff, @formulaal, @tvdtw4ever @sadiemack9 @seonghwaexile

[hms-no-fun]

this is like the first Big Transfem Question (whether your egg cracked because someone asked "if you could press a button and be always born a girl right now would you," or whether you just came out to someone for the first time and they asked "omg so are you gonna get/have you gotten The Surgery?") and everyone has their own answers, and their answers often change over time.

i know when i first came out i was pretty firmly disinterested in bottom surgery. part of this was a consequence of having tomboy gender and not really having much bottom dysphoria after HRT made unwanted erections a thing of the past. i felt deeply conflicted about the expectation that as a trans woman obviously i wanted to pursue Traditional Femininity. it quickly grew apparent to me that the pathway to the kind of polished acceptable transness you see in media is a lot of expensive procedures and surgeries and training, and as a lifelong broke bitch i resented that. especially when a trans youtuber made a jab at a clocky transfem earning her transmisogynistic harassment by essentially not trying hard enough to be a woman, that's when it really crystallized for me that i wanted nothing to do with this kind of post-drag-race bitchy high femme gender superiority. it's one thing to say that it's hard work to pass in public as a tall clocky trans girl; it's another thing entirely to act like it's her fault that she's clocky when there are real material and structural roadblocks to her reaching the standard of femininity you're expecting (to say nothing of whether or not she even WANTS to be that kind of feminine). so for me, surgery and laser and vocal training all got wrapped up in this tangle of resentful obligation that i neglected out of spite. i wanted to be a woman in a queer way, not in an assimilationist way.

but like, i did and kinda still do have that baby-trans feeling of like... well, if i could go back in the oven right this second and just sorta swap out for a vagina, i'd do it. this distinction felt important to me because i read a lot of posts about how sex for post-op trans women didn't feel the way they hoped it would, that the sensations were number and the recovery times were terrible and having to dilate was immensely painful and came with huge complications if you didn't maintain it. like there's that awful blaire white clip where she just straight up calls her vaginoplasty "an open wound" that's always trying to heal, and even as you know that's bullshit you kinda can't help but see gruesome post-surgery pics and recovery timelines and be like... well damn idk if i want to put myself through that!

what i've come to understand is that so so so so much of this perception discourse is colored by self selection bias. people don't post when they're pussy is working correctly. people don't post when the sex is good. i mean, maybe they do, but they don't post it in the same places they'd post recovery pics and ask for transition advice. someone who avidly posts through their post-op recovery probably stops posting once their new situation starts feeling normal. you can create the impression for yourself reading this stuff that the gauzy bloody swollen recovery phase lasts forever and is basically the entire experience. on top of that you can convince yourself that the end result never looks like a "real" vagina, because even after the gross part is over and done with it still takes months to a year or more for it to settle into its final shape. so there's ten million pictures of obvious post-op pussies because people post through it when they're sad, then time passes and you learn the rhythm of your new anatomy as it grows into itself, and the whole thing stops feeling like a such big deal. none of which is visible in the posts.

i've now had several friends go through various forms of gender affirming surgery, and the biggest surprise to me has been that it really doesn't seem THAT bad? somehow i got it in my head that these recovery timelines could stretch out for aaaaaaaages, but a friend of mine got the cadillac of bottom surgeries that used a bit of stomach tissue for the interior (paid for with medicaid) and she was back up on her feet in, like, two months-- albeit with serious restrictions on vigorous motion. sure, it seemed uncomfortable, but nowhere NEAR the level i was expecting. dilating is just free time for her to watch anime. same for top surgery, same for an orchi-- there's like a brief window of time where it's an inconvenience, and maybe complications can arise but generally? it kinda just seems like not a big deal. it's not this horribly traumatic invasive disgusting painful process-- it can be some of those things, probably it will be at least one of them for some amount of time, but very likely not all of them and not all at once and rarely to the extreme that we're sometimes led to believe.

honestly, the most annoying, invasive, violating part of surgery is getting the surgery approved. which is fucking hilarious considering the conservative firestorm against trans people is like 80% predicated on the assertion that trans people have too easy access to surgery. are you kidding me??? every trans person i know who has gotten any procedure, afab or amab, has had to get multiple letters from doctors/psychologists, gone through the assessment steps with a healthcare provider and surgeon, then had the whole approval process drag on long enough that their letters expired (a thing letters can do, apparently) which meant having to get new ones which meant pushing back the timeline again. like the level of pathologization and infantalization around essentially medically means-testing these procedures is fucking gonzo. it is a demeaning, demoralizing process ESPECIALLY if you have medicaid, where a parade of medical professionals take turns debating whether or not you're one of the crazy ones who's just doing it for kink and will immediately sue for malpractice afterwards (a cohort that definitely exists in real life), and it can go on for YEARS! if you're a working class trans woman who has to constantly prove her poverty to stay on food stamps, or maintain disability payouts, or just access any social program at all your free time is already dominated by these insanely accusatory administrative burdens that are constantly on the lookout for any excuse to cut you off because you're presumed to be an aspiring welfare queen. so to add the dehumanizing rigmarole of getting gender affirming surgery on the pile as an expected step of transition, at a time when even the nominally left party in the united states wants to make accessing such care even harder, is genuinely so fucking cruel on so many levels it defies my ability to discuss them without going into a frothy-mouthed rage (not very feminine of me, i know).

but the upshot of this is, i've now seen that despite all these burdens, surgery is worth it. most every trans person i know who's gotten one has come away feeling, in some sense, better than they expected. i don't want to oversell it as this like magically perfect experience, it's not, and obviously i haven't gotten surgery myself so i can only speak to what others have told me. but like someone i know got an orchi a couple months ago, and she went in worried about retaining sexual function only to come out after a few weeks of recovery feeling hornier than ever. her bottomwear fit better and made her feel less dysphoric. and somehow, psychologically, it was like a weight lifted off her mind. she felt different, truer to herself in some way. i've seen first hand the nuclear explosion of euphoria the first time a trans girl can really BOUNCE her post-op breasts. conversely i've witnessed the astonishing transformation of a trans man after top surgery, how his entire wardrobe and physical presence completely turned on its head and suddenly he just exuded self-ness. and all of these are trans people who spent years on waiting lists, struggling through letter expiries and clinic closures and staff changes and policy updates and inconsistent insurance requirements. all of them went through a period of recovery, and while some had complications that made their recovery difficult, nobody i know regrets it.

so, yeah, idk. i'm still on the fence about surgery for myself-- i think i'd like an orchi? or perhaps one of those really experimental surgeries where you get a bit of both. i'm certainly still intimidated by a lot of aspects of the process, but it's not scary to me the way it seemed when i first started transitioning. i guess if there's any message to this post it's that this is why having IRL queer community is so important. you might not feel brave enough to get surgery yourself, but someone else is, and maybe by being friends with them through the process (maybe by taking care of their cats while they're stuck in the hospital) you can slowly demystify it and realize that maybe you had the wrong impression all along.

A question for transfems, pick the option that matches the closest to you:

---

Option for nontransfems that want to click buttons: here.

[asha-mage]

BingLiuShen au where Shen Qingqiu's fevered heteronormativity poisoned brain decides that the best way to avoid dying for the crime of being a heterosexual male in a stallion novel is to pretend not to be heterosexual and thus not a threat to the protagonist's harem. He figures if he can hit that sweet spot where his (supposed! Not real at all!) sexuality is just a quirk of the beloved mentor then the narrative will have no choice but to keep him alive. Airplane might be a hack, but he's exactly the sort of hack who would put in a token gay character, then shunt them off to the background, only to be trotted out again when he's getting flack in the comments for sexist, homophobic, and/or generally shitty writing decisions.

And for Shen Yuan, whose stated life goal is to idle away the hours in luxury and occasionally bask in Binghe's protagonisty coolness (in a very heterosexual way of course!) that would be the perfect out. There's just one problem- how does he demonstrate his (definitely fake!) homosexuality without playing into homophobic tropes and getting himself killed for offending the genre's aggressively het sensibilities?

The answer? Pretend to be pinning away silently in unrequited love for another man. It's perfect! All he has to do is drop a few extremely subtle hints in Binghe's hearing implying having feelings he would never act on for say, Liu Qingge, and he'll be golden. After all, what person attracted to men (which he isn't!) wouldn't fall immediately in love with the Bai Zhan War God? It has the added benefit of proving what a good Token Gay he is by the fact that he saved Liu Qingge's life without any expectations or hopes and without ever even revealing his (supposed!) feelings.

Shen Qingqiu gets about a week of feeling like a genius after putting this plot into motion before Liu Qingge starts showing up at Qing Jing with small gifts and pastries and asking to spar, and well. In between melting down (because how on earth did he put it together from the grand total of three entirely ambiguous hints he dropped!) and trying to stay composed (because even the straightest guy- which he is!- would get flustered by having Liu Qingge smiling at him Like That) he figures the only rational thing to do is just Commit To the Bit, resign himself to one day becoming cultivation partners with Liu Qingge and retiring together into the background of future plot shenanigans. Their are clearly no other possible ways of dealing with this situation, and hey being with Liu Qingge of all people isn't bad. That's a fan favorite character and he's stupidly handsome and brave and kind! Shen Qingqiu could do a lot worse, especially in a world like PIDW. In fact given the alternatives, Shen Qingqiu's could probably consider himself incredibly lucky. Objectively that is. From a purely 'guy trying to survive this dumb novel' point of view. It would be an honor to have Liu Qingge's arms wrapped around him. If he where into men of course.

Meanwhile you have Luo Binghe in the background of every scene the two are in with a forced smile, internally speed running the '*fork in garbage disposal noises*' to 'I just want my Shizun to be happy! I swear!' to 'actually Liu-shishu is really nice I can see what Shizun sees in him' to 'oh no I think I want to be in the Middle Of Whatever That Is' arc.

(And of course, Binghe at the end of the day IS the protagonist, and after much trial and tribulation, is supposed to get exactly what he wants...)

And all the while you have Liu Qingge, utterly oblivious to the mental anguish and gymnastics of his shidi and shizi, who just keeps turning up at Qing Jing, because he really does like Shen Qingqiu and even if that first date was his sister's idea he's found he really does enjoy spending time with Shen Qingqiu, and also Shen Qingqiu's sticky first disciple who despite the crocodile tears is actually clearly pretty strong. He has no idea that Shen Qingqiu is silently picking out drapery for the future house while Luo Binghe tries to rationalize his out of control heartbeat as a completely normal side effect of the sparring match they just fought (Which he only keeps challenging Liu-shishu to make sure he's strong enough to protect Shizun! He swears!).

WIll the three of them ever figure it out and get their act together? Sure. Will they do it before the Conference/Abyss arc upends everything? Absolutely not.

[shoukokus]

How would the door leaders (Housewardens) react to an extremely flirty reader (if the housewardens flirts back the reader would double down with even more flirt)?

I love this. Where my fellow don't know when they're flirting people at?

Riddle Rosehearts

You'll have to give him the most obvious flirtatious comment for him to realize that's what you're doing. But once he gets it, oh boy.

Turns ridiculously red, whether you're together or not

If you aren't, he says with a huge stutter that you need to watch what you say

If you are, he tries to be smoother with it

"Ah, yes, thank you..." He clears his throat. "You look lovely as well."

Please just don't do it in front of people, he'll clam up and be very uncomfortable

Leona Kingscholar

Bold little thing aren't you?

Don't you know what flirting with a prince means? Are you prepared to spend life by his side, saying things like that in public to him...

He'll flirt back whether you're together or not

It kind of becomes a competition of who can fluster the other one more, but I warn you he's a tough rival, he's got plenty to say about you

I'll give you a little hint though, get really genuine with it. Say how intelligent he is, how his country is lucky to have him, give him all the praise!

The two of you can go back and forth for hours, while everyone around you has died of embarrassment awhile ago

Azul Ashengrotto

Are you trying to kill him?

You know that cliche anime glasses crack? That's him the first time you flirt with him

He doesn't even know how to be suave in response (especially if he really likes you) he's just too flustered

Flirting with him is fun and all, but the thing that's really gonna make him melt is genuine praise. His intelligence, his business sense, his dedication.

I mean you can turn that into flirts.... just saying..

Won't flirt back unless you're in a relationship, and even then it's very awkward. He doesn't know how to do it, but an experienced flirt like yourself can teach him

Kalim Al-Asim

He honestly just thinks you're being friendly

You could straight up say the most romantic pick up line on the planet, and he'd just smile and say it back. Then walk along like nothing happened

If you're serious about him, you'll have to grab him by the shoulders and say that you've been flirting because you're romantically interested

If not, then yall will just have fun!

He can effortlessly make your heart pitter patter, you know he means everything he says

In a relationship or not, you can have a really fun back and forth with him

Vil Schoenheit

He hears basic flirting all the time, you're going to have to get creative

Perhaps compliment his skill, get personal with it! Say that no one else could play the roles he's getting

Once you get there, that's when he starts responding and genuinely enjoying the flirting you do

It's nice to be appreciated in such a genuine manner, and not just someone after his fame or looks.

Occasionally flirts back, but frankly he's not the best at it! You may think he's smooth and a natural flirt, but honestly he's never felt the need to respond back before. He likes learning what makes you blush though <3

Just make sure he's the only one you're flirting with now, okay?

Idia Shroud

Spontaneously combusts. Good job, you killed him

He's fun to tease, he has the best reactions to even the simplest of compliments

However he's not going to do anything in response until you get real with him. So unless you're in an established relationship, don't expect much back

MIGHT tell you not to do it in public, that stuff is too cringe to say out loud!!

But he also gets a sense of pride from it

Can't flirt back to save his life. Tried once, hated it, never did it again. He's fine with you being the flirty one

Malleus Draconia

Is so old school about it, to him flirting means courting

The second you flirt with him, he's giving you hand written notes about how lovely you are.

Honestly? He's better at this than you are and he doesn't even know it

That probably makes you want to up your game though, right? He just likes having all your attention and praise, it makes him a very happy dragon

You'd need to actually explain flirting/pick up lines to him. That you do it when you're interested in the person for a variety of reasons (romantic or otherwise), and want to see what it takes to fluster them.

Maybe gets a little down after that, thinking it was just for fun and not serious. Please tell him it was serious and then swear he's the only one you're interested in <3

Requests are open!

[erinwantstowrite]

What do you think about Jason and Tim relationship? I know that fans are split between hatred for each other or the best brothers. But what do you think?

i fully believe that the writers dropped the ball on what to do with them.

i disagree with what they did with Jason coming back- they didn't have any direction for his character besides that they wanted a huge dramatic twist and Jason has stagnated because of it. him coming back as pretty much nothing like himself but then having zero good writing to convince me of his tragedy?? it's why a lot of people just ignore canon. if they were gonna bring him back, they should have gone in another direction.

if i HAD to keep jason as an anti hero, i would have written him to have a compulsion to protect Robin. a deep rooted fear where he projects his own time, experience, and feelings as Robin onto Tim (and even Stephanie!!) because of the damage that was done to him mentally. jason had long lasting brain damage. he was in a coma for months after he was suddenly revived, he was catatonic when Talia was taking care of him. the Lazarus pit might have healed that, but there would still be residual affects. Jason would feel younger than he is, he'd feel like a stranger in his own body. add on to that with severe cpstd, and you have a recipe for a kid (he was what, 18? 19? physically? when he got to Gotham?) who has a warped perception of his life and relationships. he would have memories that were forgotten to him, not just in his recovery stage but in the time before he died. he would have the feelings of a kid who wanted his dad to save him, who was angry at his mom for hurting him, who now has to struggle with why he ever came back at all. i'm sure he would be angry at everyone. he'd be confused and hurt and he wouldn't have a means to understanding his own feelings. but at his heart, jason was always a good kid, and he protected people, especially people who couldn't protect themselves

it makes no sense that jason came back wanting to hurt robin

so yeah, i'd have written him to be angry and volatile like a teen lashing out at a safe parent to be angry with, but when Tim or Steph were there, he'd dial it back immediately. at first it would be about not wanting to scare them, wanting to keep them safe as a way to help the kid that did die in that costume, somehow and someway. but eventually it would be about Jason seeing them, seeing how capable they are, and feeling protective over them, not just Robin.

but that isn't what happened, because the writers couldn't care less about how trauma actually effects people. they had him attack tim and become basically a sociopath and it felt like a cheap "gotcha!" twist that no one asked for

that being said, their canon relationship isn't terrible. in the beginning they didn't get along at all, obviously. but now, they have a respect for each other. they act like siblings. Tim has said multiple times that he doesn't hate Jason nor holds a grudge. Jason said that he should, but Tim didn't care. sometimes when I read them, I think about how well they might have gotten along if Jason never died. because let's be real, Tim was always headed for the Batfam with or without Jason's death. that's why fics where he's adopted earlier and Jason doesn't die are pretty popular. though in my opinion, they often overshadow that Dick and Tim are also brothers

i think they have a complicated history and relationship but they are siblings. they aren't texting each other everything (Dick and Tim, i fear) or having emotional conversations more than once every seven months but they'll play video games with each other, drop by unannounced to the other's house to eat their food and complain about something, and they work together well. they have a lot in common and they're both previously only children who became second children and eventually middle children. they both experienced neglect though it was very different versions.

in one universe where Tim had died, Jason mourned him. i think that says a lot about how they care about each other

if only the writers would let it STAY that way and not have Jason regress over and over just because they're terrified of character development

[sugarwarachan]

title: better than most to say the least

pairing: dabi x reader (also on ao3)

wc: oops this is almost 3k

CWs: soulmate!au, fem!reader, slight angst if you squint, no condoms used (wrap it up in real life yall), Dabi's a little mean, reader's a little into it, the unbearable burden of being seen, i haven't written fic in years be gentle

Dabi doesn’t care about much. You can’t in the sort of world he inhabits. It’s much easier to scorch the earth behind you than to plan for good things to come. So he’s furious when he hears your voice, a real soft and low number, like a siren out in the fucking fog, say, “That’ll be ¥500.”

His brother laughed when the soul mark activated; even at the age of three, he’d known just how mundane the words were. Part of him had laughed as well; maybe you and he would laugh about it, too, when you met. The laughter died in his throat when he saw his father’s disapproving face.

He looks down at the packaged onigiri in something like disbelief. Your face is starting to express apprehension. He still hasn’t said anything, and it doesn’t even look like he’ll pay. He’s not surprised you’re weirded out, and fuck, something is pressing against his chest, like a buoy rising up, pulling him to the surface so he can finally suck down oxygen.

He feels fucking free, giddy with it. You’re real. He never once imagined you would be.

The grin that cracks his face must look a touch maniacal because your eyes widen, and he watches you press yourself against the counter as he says, “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, princess?”

He’s not all that pleasant to look at.

You know that’s not a nice thing to think, especially about your soul mate, but you can’t help that your first thought upon seeing the guy was holy fucking shit what happened to you?

A moment ago, he was glaring at you, and now he’s radiating a nervous energy that puts you on edge. It’s like he thinks you’ll disappear the moment he takes his eyes off you.

You’re no criminal, but you’re no hero, either. You’ve got a quirk that makes most people wary of you, so your nonsense detector is finely tuned, and fuck, your soul mate is definitely the kind of dude who ends up on the other side of those hero compilations your coworker streams on her lunch break.

“Not done talking to me, are you?” He pouts, pushing out his lips and pulling at the staples in his face. His voice is nice. It relaxes you somehow, even when every nerve in your body is shrieking in alarm.

“Where’s yours?”

This throws him. A part of you doesn’t like forcing his hand like this, but another part of you thinks this could be a really convenient trap.

“Your soul mark?” You tap the side of your wrist. “Mine’s along the radial bone.”

He reaches over the till to grab your arm, pulling you closer. You yelp in protest. His touch is hot, familiar. You’re grateful no one else is in the store right now. Explaining this to yourself is going to be enough of a hassle later on.

There’s a menace in his voice when he addresses you. “You think I’m a liar?”

You don’t, actually. Even without the soul mark you would take this man at his word.

“No. But you’ve been in here a whole lot, and I’m a naturally suspicious person. So, pony up and show me.”

You’ve gotta be smart about this. Heroes and villains alike would do a lot to get a person with your quirk on their side, and you’re not so naïve as to think that soul marks can’t be discovered and used against you.  

He grins, and you feel it like a twist to the gut. This guy might actually kill you; you don’t really know. But something—the little bond between the tug of you that threaded your lives together the moment he opened his mouth—is already tugging at your brain for answers, for knowledge, all to better assemble who your soulmate is.

“We’ve gotta go somewhere safe for me to do that, doll.” He leers at you, and you wonder if he’s trying to intimidate, trying to imprint on your brain that, yes, he is, in fact, dangerous. “You’re just gonna have to take my word for it.”

Fat fucking chance.

You don’t take him at his word. You call him every name he’s ever heard and then some, and then you close your eyes and hum, and a feeling like sugared caramel slides into his head. Fuck is he floating? he thinks before he crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

When he comes to, his head is splitting. He’s sitting in what he assumes is the store’s backroom, judging by the shelves lined with cleaning products. You’re on a crate watching him with an annoyed expression, lips kicked out in a pout. It draws attention to the fullness of your lower lip. He tries not to notice.

“You could have just shown me,” you grouse.

“And miss out on the chance to have you hit me with your quirk? What kind of masochist would I be then?”

He doesn’t know what you’re doing as a cashier, but it’s safe to say you’re hiding. He has no idea what you did to him, but just before he’d knocked out, he remembered the first time he mastered the flames, that sticky-sweet feeling of hope in his chest. He has no idea how you managed to dig that out after all these years.

You shrug, ignoring him.

“Too good to fucking explain?” he snaps.

You saw something vulnerable, so personal that not even the league knows he has those thoughts, those memories. If he could scrub them from your brain, he would.

“I can make you dream,” you snap back. “When I was a kid, I used to spend a lot of time in my own head. It worried my parents. They got me tested because they thought I was quirkless. The doctor said I had a minor empathy quirk. Nothing to worry about. What kid wouldn’t want the advantage of knowing how others feel?”

You clench your hands.

“I didn’t know if I could implant a dream into someone’s head, but I spun that dream the night before, and my parents were never the wiser. Up until the day they died, they never knew I’d planned out that scenario already and made that man lie to them.”

He’s floored. He can’t believe you’re willingly offering up such valuable information to him. What would Shigaraki do with you, he wonders, before a violent pain follows the thought. No, Shigaraki isn’t getting his hands on you. He doesn’t exactly know what happens to the things that kid collects for his master.

“Not at the top of the list for hero candidates?”

Your lips pull back in a sneer before you realize. You’re bad at hiding your feelings, he realizes, something that makes him feel oddly protective. You’ll need to get better at that.

He turns his hands out, palms up. A thin blue flame erupts. You jump, but your eyes don’t leave his.

“We’re gonna need to move, sweets. Neither one of us is exactly hero material.”

He takes you to a sorry excuse for a safe house because it’s just some guy on vacation who was stupid enough to leave a spare key behind, but it works in a pinch. He can’t take you to the league just yet. He already barely knows you, and there he would have to split your time with everyone else.

You’re standing in the doorway like a spooked animal. That you agreed to come is shocking in itself, but then again, he would have followed you into a coffin if you asked it of him. Maybe there was something to those soul mate stories Toga pretended not to read after all. He thought the whole bond thing was exaggerated, but maybe not.

He clenches his jaw and grabs a beer from the fridge.

“I’m not gonna fucking hurt you. You can take the bedroom,” he says, even though he wants you to sit next to him, to look at him, to share something again the way you had in the storeroom. But you’re already shuffling away, and before he knows it, the door shuts with a click, and he’s alone in the dark.

Confirmed villain.

It took you all of two seconds to search the web for League of Villains and/or criminal activity across the country, and bam, there he is, menacing even in blurry camera footage.

You stare up at the ceiling and wonder if you should be horrified at yourself that this confirmation changes nothing. He’s just your soulmate, for better or for worse.

And you’re a coward for sitting in here rather than performing the simple task of sharing a drink with him.

The blue glow of the television lights up the living room. He’s moved to the couch, long legs spread open, arms resting along the back. Desire drops low in your stomach at the sight, an almost innate need flashing in your body to climb into his lap.

He catches your eye and smirks like he can read your thoughts. You blush furiously. “Did you realize hiding doesn’t solve shit?”

“Shut up,” you retort, like a child, which makes him laugh. It’s a nice laugh. A little subdued, you think, but warm, hard-won. You don’t imagine he laughs often.

When you settle down next to him, he seems to barely register, but something in you knows he’s pleased. You curl toward the feeling like a cat seeking a sunbeam.  

“Really, though. What made you come out?”

Looking him in the eye is a mistake. He has beautiful eyes, a cerulean blue that puts the sky to shame.

“I don’t like running from things,” you manage. You were wrong to think he wasn’t pretty. “What’s your name?”

He snorts. “You’ve gotta know it, doll, didn’t you spend ten minutes in there panic-searching for violent crime?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d still like to be introduced.”

“It’s Dabi.”

You raise a brow. “That’s it?”

“For now. I’ll tell you the real one later, okay?”

“Fine.”

He’s watching compilation videos of pro heroes, the footage flickering on the walls around you.

“This is what you do in your spare time?”

He shrugs. “Just what was on.”

You don’t believe that for a second, but it’s fine, because you’re a liar, too. You’d do anything to avoid painful topics, like the possibility that your soulmate already has plans outside of you that you won’t be able to change.

“You know, your words used to get me in a lot of trouble,” you say, to get you back into familiar territory.

He smiles, like that pleases him. You bet it does.

“Oh yeah? What sort of trouble?”

“Just the usual. Your soulmate has a potty mouth, your soul mate’s probably a villain…”

His shoulder tenses against you. You don’t remember scooting closer, but the sheer fucking heat of him is searing into your skin.

You want him. If you’re being honest, you’ve probably wanted him since he first appeared in the store. The part of you that doesn’t exactly abide by societal standards saw a kindred flame in him.

“That sort of thing used to bother me when I was a kid, I guess. But the older I got, the more I realized how much I liked them.”

Your hands ache to touch him. His thigh tenses alongside yours.

“What do you like about them now?” he asks.

You have a whole slew of thoughts in your head about them, the characteristics you assumed based on one little question, but for now all you can say is, “That you finally said them.”

He doesn’t know who moves first.

You tumble into his lap inelegantly, but he doesn’t care; he wants you closer. He’s wanted you closer since he arrived at this shitty studio apartment, has been trying to rein in the overwhelming feeling of possession swarming under his skin, but he wants.

He's a villain, and he’s never been good at waiting for what he wants.

His hands press into the meat of your hips, and he savors the little gasp you make. He’s hard as iron already and all you’ve done is settle your clothed cunt on top of him.

“You’re already fucking scorching, baby, can feel you through your fucking jeans,” he hisses, dragging you along his thigh. You whimper. “I know, fuck, I know, you’re driving me crazy, too.”

Your hands are everywhere, sliding over his scarred skin like you were born to it, fingers exploring the cool metal of his staples. You’re gentle but also not, and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt in his entire life. You move to kiss him, your hips moving more and more, a desperate noise bubbling up in your throat.

“Please, Dabi, please.” You sound so fucked out, and he hasn’t even touched you all that much. “I wanna kiss you, don’t you wanna kiss me?”

He smirks. A little brat, begging for kisses.

He does want to kiss you, has been staring at the plushness of your lips for the better part of since he met you, but his mouth aches today.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna kiss me now,” you’re saying, tongue licking and tasting and sucking at his neck. He bucks against you. “We can feel good in other ways.”

The whimper that comes out of him feels ripped from his soul. His arms cage you closer, one palm snaking up to cup your neck, the other under your shirt.

Neither of you talk as you make quick work of each other’s clothes, discarding them to the floor. He tries not to feel insecure as you take in his body. Over the years, his appearance is as much a part of him as his past. He can’t shed either, no matter how much he might want to.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think you were pretty at first.”

You look so devastated that he can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t fucking care,” he says, pulling you to him and kissing you despite how much his lips ache, because fuck, he has someone, finally, and he’s so glad it’s you. “Just want you.”

He punctuates this by cupping your bare pussy with his hand. Just from grinding on him earlier, you’re slippery and warm, and his fingers part your folds easily. You sigh into his mouth as he rubs the pad of his thumb around the sides of your clit, huffing a laugh when your hips buck for more.

“Getting desperate for it, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you grit out. “Just fucking touch me –" you roll your hips forward – “like you fucking mean it.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll have you dumb on my cock before long.”

“Big fucking talk for a man who hasn’t even – “

He cuts you off by stuffing your pussy with two of his fingers, the stretch of it making you whine. You can feel the cool metal in the staples at the heel of his hand as he strokes, in and out, a steady and rough rhythm that feels impossibly good for it to just be fucking fingering.

“No one ever made you feel this way?” You can hear the smirk in his voice without even seeing him. Splayed out on his lap like this, your tits bouncing as you shift your body closer to him, you bet you look like a fucking mess. But you don’t care, because he's right, no one has ever made you feel like this, and it’s important to you that he feels just as fucking good.

His cock curves along his stomach, weeping pre-cum and jerking up whenever your voice hitches. You think it’s so hot, how in tune he already is with you, how much he wants to please you, that you grab him in the palm of your hand and stroke, relishing the groan that rumbles in his throat.

“No one ever made you feel this way?” you taunt. His eyes flash, and before you know it, you’re both on the ground, his hips slotting in between your legs and his cock notching up at your entrance. He looks up at you, pupils blown, chest heaving.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’ll fucking murder you –"

He cuts you off with one quick rock of his hips. You burn at the stretch. He’s big, and it’s been a while, but he’s already moving before you have time to process that little blip of pain before the pleasure is overwhelming you. You squeal when he lifts your hips up, but it’s just to slip a pillow under you before he’s manhandling your hips and fucking into you like a man possessed.

His breath is hot against your ear, whispering a litany of confessions while he drags his cock in and out. It’s so purposeful, you feel every stroke of him in your fucking skull. His pubic bone grinds against your clit with every thrust, and before you know it, you’re chanting praises, begging him to let you come.

He knows the neighbors will complain, that the safe house is absolutely busted, but he can’t fucking care, because your perfect little cunt is squeezing him like a vice, and your eyes are so blissful as you come that he feels, finally, at peace.

“That’s it, princess,” he says as your orgasm shatters through you. “Make a fucking mess, just for me, god yes –"

He comes so hard that his vision whites out. All he can feel and hear and see and think is you.

He collapses on top of you, nosing at the baby hairs damp with sweat along your neck. He smiles. Maybe later he’ll take you to a bed and tell you his real name.

[obeymeluv]

Octavinelle w a Southern!Reader? A lot of the pet names and the common phrases are pretty affectionate and soft, so I think seeing the more composed bunch get exposed to such a sweet reader would be cute!

Before we begin, two notes: 1) I will also be playing with the creature traits of the Octo Trio as I see fit. 2) I personally call the three "Corelians" because they're from the Coral Sea. I am from the South so hopefully I answer this to your liking, haha. Sweet is a loaded term to me. Sweet is both the first taste of wispy cotton candy dissolving on your tongue and the sugar-coated demise of 'Oh my god, this is so good! I should really stop. Ah, fuck it. I'll deal with it later,' knowing you're going to complain about the miserable overload in an hour. If you have any kind of serving/retail/waitressing experience (especially in the south), you'll also know that 'sweet' is kill them with kindness and scream in the walk-in when you can't kill them for real. As for the Octo Trio? Have some random blurbs :)

Two of Azul's three hearts are sent cartwheeling and quivering when you so much as look at him! He doesn't know what to do with you! You're...you're so nice! In truth, he doesn't get you because he can't seen an ulterior motive or an end game. Part of the reason he can't understand you is because there IS NO END GAME. How does that work? He doesn't understand it. The only thing he understands is that your many ludicrous pet names make him writhe and wiggle and question the efficacy of that damnable lander potion! Surely they wouldn't cheap out on quality and compromise the future of a bright, young entrepreneur, right? He can mock them all he wants, his face smushed into his hand, but it doesn't stop his cheeks from reddening. You made him disgustingly warm inside and he has to use short words before the ink starts to pool in his mouth (the tweels noticed that and take great joy in it). "Yes, they're all so terrible. Terrible enough to make you rant," Jade muses as they settle into a brief respite with tea before opening the Mostro Lounge for the afternoon. "Frequently." "More like say 'em in the mirror as a pep-talk," Floyd boots the door open with a mocking laugh, gold eye shining as he flops down on the couch. He effortlessly catches the spill, much like he'll flip an omelet without looking, and keeps his eyes trained on Azul like the prey he is. Azul felt the heat rise in his cheeks and his chest. His feet untangled themselves subconsciously as his reduced limb-brains tried to figure out which one was close enough to bop Floyd. Jade leaned forward and pressed the cup handle against his palm to quash the punching instinct and remind the limb it was full. He snorted, adjusting his glasses with his free hand. "Isn't that right, sugar dumplin'?" Floyd flashed a toothy smile at him as Jade stuck an empty pen in his mouth to stop him from drooling ink into his tea. Floyd knew that one was his favorite.

---

The Corelian-Land Exchange Program prepared him for a lot of unique human experiences but didn't prepare Floyd for you. But that's to be expected because there is no chapter on 'dimensional strangers' in the curriculum. He's constantly having to remind himself of things like less resistance on land so the fights are in his favor. Or that he's not as fluid when he turns and those pinky thingies hurt like a BITCH and he doesn't see why he can't just cut it off because it HOOKS ON EVERY FUCKING THING. He also has to remind himself that hunting instincts are rude here. You don't stalk people, you meet them. But you're just so nice and bob along! It almost seems wrong not to keep an eye on you, what with how small you are. That's what he tells himself, anyways. He doesn't know quite how to describe it but your sweet words are funny with their little dips and drawls. They call him like something shiny and give him this burst of energy that makes him want to fling his long limbs out and twirl like a whirlpool. You can tell when he needs encouragement and aren't afraid to clamp up and be cold when he doesn't deserve any coddling. You call yourself a southerner and he's not quite sure what you mean because you have no home here and no one knows what direction your home is in. You and the apple-toting Guppy are a lot alike but Floyd doesn't get the same kind of feelings out of following him or plopping an arm down on his head. Matter of fact, the last time he plopped an arm down on Guppy's head, Guppy put him between some tree roots with a fancy shoulder toss Beta Fish taught 'im.

But when he does it to you? It's always different--just like him. Some days it's linking your elbows together and joking that he's stuck with you now. Other days you just wrap an arm around his middle and hug him for a few seconds where his cold-blood self squirms in the warm casing being incubated by you. On the rare and very amusing occasion that you aren't in the mood when his arm touches your head, you give him a warning smile before nipping at him. It doesn't hurt, honestly. Hardly enough to feel through fabric. Nothing at all to a Corelian predator. Cute for trying, though. He doesn't dare tell you that his blood can make humans sick.

Floyd just leans down and grins at you, ignoring the bit of fabric in your teeth, and whispers 'My turn,' just enough to show you all his glistening, pointy teeth. You always let go and he always bites air, but his legs are damn near knotting themselves together in glee at the thought of you letting him mark you for real. You scurry down the hall as Jade weaves himself between the students, following the scent of his many emotions. Landers had a theory about twins being connected; that's one of the first things he learned about them. Jade didn't see the whole scene but seems to know enough.

"Morays are opportunistic cowards at best, my dear brother. Don't feel bad." Jade gives him a closed-lip and a closed-eyed smile. And just like that, like when they were elvers, he and his brother are tangled and biting.

----

Jade knows it's a baser instinct to keep an eye on someone not like him. Not only from a safety standpoint but in the vein of him being the perceived threat to your...benign. He can't help but laugh and see you as soft when you're trying to hide your ragged gasps for breath as he turns to observe your footing on the incline. He was more comfortable in his lander form now and thought this would be an easier trail for you to navigate, coming from a foreign land and all.

Perhaps he was wrong.

But still, to see you struggle and flush, to see your hair come undone just a touch as you begin to glisten is quite a sight. It reminds him all over again that you're human like these landers on Sage's Island but you're not one of these landers, exactly.

You're the only one of your kind. The rarest of rare specimen.

You push up the incline, fixing your hair as you breeze past, and excitedly point to a patch of greens Ruggie told you about before. They are edible and coming home with you! You know how to prepare them!

Something ugly and gnashing wells up in Jade. Makes him want to suck the little Savanaclaw mongrel up in his pharyngeal jaws but he doesn't have them in this form.

Mmm, but he's thinking about the wrong jaws, isn't he? A bit rude to be thinking about his. It's best to put nutrition in yours. Yes, yes, that's very good. Jade's smile almost twitches as his back spasms where one of his more active fins would be. "Greens are a bit of an insult compared to the bounty of the Mostro," he lets you slide down the incline with barely a pull as he grinds his walking stick into said patch of greens. "Though no less important. Come, I'll even make you tea." "But what about the hike? It's only been, like, thirty minutes!" Most of that was waiting on you to traverse the terrain, but still! Jade didn't even have a single mushroom to show for it! Jade prides himself on his composure and quick wit. Here lately he's been applauding himself for holding onto all of it--any of it--around you. You have no magic but seem to do something akin to his signature spell. "There's more moisture in the air," he grips his walking stick and surprises even himself with the smooth stumble of his words, "there's rain coming. I can smell it." That did sound plausible to your lander self. He could see you contemplating it. Was it really going to rain? Who knew. The weather on Sage's Island was as unique as it's occupants. Your relent is reluctant but Jade pays that no mind as he stamps down an errant root and taps your foot politely away from it. "What a gentleman!" you tease, kind needling almost costing you a face full of green leaf from a bent tree. He chuckles as you bat the leaves from your face in a fit of self-preservation.

The flailing really is quite adorable.

You huff at his laugh and stomp almost petulantly after him to the flat and familiar of Sage's Island, the impressive point of the college a mere smear in the distance. After a near twenty minute walk, you change generously in Mostro Lounge's bathrooms (as in: Floyd annoys Azul enough to keep him unaware) and clean up enough to meet dress code, cramming your hiking things under the table. Floyd catches you, you both know. He knows the deal. What you don't know is that he waits for you to bat your eyes at him like you'll inevitably do and he revels in it. Mostly because his mushroom-huffing brother doesn't know what to do when you do that, but he thinks your eyes are pretty too. Jade coughs into his hand.

When that doesn't get the desired result, he gently turns you into your side of the booth and seats himself. There's a bristling only known between brothers and those who have a territorial bone in them. Floyd smirks and checks his brother's fingers for signs of webbing or claws. "What're ya havin'?" Jade lets you order first, of course. He orders next, not even bothering to grab a menu Floyd didn't offer. "And for drinks?" "That's supposed to be first, brother dear." Jade smiles. "Actually, appetizers first." he snorts. "I'll be making her some tea, actually." Jade excuses himself and walks in-step with his brother to the kitchen. "Makin' time for tea but no time for truth, heh?" Floyd's eyes are suddenly sharp and Jade growls. Jade realizes this is an unsafe situation as there are many knives around them. He's just as keen with a pot if it's all the same. The thought crosses his mind. "Gonna feed her before ya confess? Seems I'm not the only one who does things out of order, huh?" "I am providing." Jade hisses, opening his mouth wide.

"Best remember to provide some dish pit time because you owe me." Floyd taunts. "I covered your tail and got your little lander love a table!" In that moment, Floyd doesn't know why he turned his back. It felt good, maybe? Felt right for the moment? All he knew is that one hand full of menus didn't do anything against a hefty grab to the back of his neck as he was almost shoved into the hot water part of said dish pit. "How much time would you like?" Jade mused, bracing one arm against the other as he leaned his weight into his brother.

"Ah shut up and go make your leaf juice!" Floyd tries to nip him as he wriggles beneath his brother, only one set of shoes fit for the kitchen. Satisfied, Jade relents. It may cost him somewhere down the line but in this moment he's happy. Happy and put together and providing. Just for you.

[becauseimswagman1]

Lightskin brothaaaaa

Kelvin Harrison Jr. x reader

Warnings: humiliation kink mentioned, voyeurism kink mentioned, suggestive flirtation, hint at bisexual!Kelvin, hint at bisexual!Aaron

----Reader asks Kelvin to have a threesome... kelvin has some qualms about it---- Reader is in a girl group btw-----

--------------------

Life after hard launching your relationship with Kelvin was actually pretty fucking chill.

The two of you went almost everywhere together, unlike your typical couple with busy schedules.

You practically lived in his skin and vice versa. Since y’all have been together, going on two years (secretly at first), the fans have gotten used to him appearing on not only yours, but your group’s social media doing dance challenges. He especially made appearances on Instagram since that’s where you’re the most active. Every chance you got, you posted relatable relationship quotes that the fans immediately knew were talking about Kelvin. You also posted a shit ton of pics of him being the lightskin ass clown he is.

But that’s surface level, let’s get into the real shit.

You wanted to spice things up (as if things could get any spicer, y’all two gots DOWN) with him by having a threesome, but he was NOT having it.

“What do you mean you want me to watch while another man fucks the shit outta you?!”

“Exactly what you think it means! It’s not like you’re not into voyeurism.” You really couldn’t see the problem here.

“As true as that may be, that shit is NOT happening with Trevante of all people!”

….There’s the problem…

“Cause he’s wayyyy buffer than me and I don’t have time for my girlfriend to say mildly mean things to me while she’s about to get fucked by a big strong man.”

“But you’re into that….”

“Shut it! That was ONE time!”

You laughed, “I said you nutted like a weak ass bitch then you literally shot so hard it got on the ceiling. And you wanna try and tell me you’re not into a little humiliation.”

“Fine, fine, whatever. Look, if we’re gonna do it, then who it’s with has to be my choice.”

“...what?”

“Yeah, it has to be. I need to do research first on candidates.”

“Candidates? Is this the presidential election? Baby, what the fuck? And what type of research are we talking about?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just know I got it handled.”

“...Are you gonna survey dick sizes? Is this about him not having a bigger dick than you?”

“No! No! Of course, not- maybe- okay No! It’s not. I’m just gonna do extensive searching for the perfect man. He’s gotta be really fucking hot, but not hotter than me if he’s gonna get my permission to touch you.”

You cooed, “Awe, babe! I knew you were bisexual-”

“Baby, no!”

“... Just a little bisexual…? It’s okay to admit it. We all are.”

“I’m not unpacking that right now!”

All you could do was laugh as he stormed out of the room like a diva.

—-----------------------------------------

After that conversation, neither you nor Kelvin spoke of the topic again. You figured he was taking finding a partner seriously, but not this seriously.

In secret, he had been conducting interviews, asking basic questions. Asking for kinks (if they had any) and their most recent STD test results (and if it’s been a while, then that they get tested). Ya know, standard shit. Nothing serious.

—-----------------------------------------

—--TWO MONTHS LATER—---

Kelvin had finally found the perfect person for the threesome.

The guy is someone he trusts, not only with his well-being but with you and your pleasure in bed.

—---------------------------------

“Baby!” Kelvin steps into your dorm like he lives there. He was so ready for you to stop being so picky about choosing an apartment. You also didn’t wanna leave your girls’ unattended, lord knows they’d burn the place down without you there, but the two of you wanted your own space. Kelvin wants to be able to love on you without someone popping up and interrupting.

“Baby, where you at?” He took off his shoes and walked around your dorm. It just seemed to be just you home today.

“Bae? I’m in my room!” you almost didn’t hear him due to your music being turned up loud through your headphones.

He walked in, “I’ve found someone.”

“Found someone for what?”

He sat next to you on the bed and sprawled out, “Someone for our rendezvous.”

“OH! A rendezvous? Bae, are we going on a quest? The fuck is a rendezvous, call that shit what it is.”

“Fine. I’ve found someone for our threesome.”

You snickered, “There you go.”

“Anyways, this guy is perfect. He’s tall and checks all of our boxes.”

“Oh… ours? As in our boxes? You must be finally ready to unpack-”

“No!” he put his hand over your mouth, “I’m not. Shh! The guy is Aaron.”

Your eyes widened and you spoke behind his hand, “Aaron?”

Kelvin moved his hand, “Yeah. I had listed what you liked about me and the traits you liked, that I didn’t have and came up with an extensive list of guys. And no Trevante wasn’t on it so don’t even ask.”

You slumped down in the bed a bit.

“After talking to all of them, Aaron ended up being the best choice.”

Your brows furrowed, “Wait… does he know it’s for a threesome?”

“Nah. I lied to them all and said I was doing a survey for this underground actor freaky club.”

You held back your laughter. Only your man would do this. “So we gotta ask if he’s down?”

“Yeah, babe. Aaron’s chill though.”

You looked at him, “Riiight, asking your close friend to have a threesome with you and your girlfriend is so easy.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“You know it was.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll talk to him over drinks tomorrow.”

“TOMORROW?!” you got up off the bed and started pacing around your room. “The fuck you mean tomorrow?”

Kelvin sat up, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“You’re ready?!” you slowed down your pacing, “Like actually?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m more than ready, I’m excited.”

You sat down next to him, “If you’re confident then so am I. I trust you.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your forehead, “I love you.”

“I know.”

He smacked the side of your head playfully.

“Fineeeee. I love you, too, my bisex-”

He mushed your face, “Sweet moment over.” —-------------------------

Tomorrow came way too fast. Luckily it was a rare day that y’all had the day off, so you had the whole day to freak out and get advice.

You walked into your favorite member's room.

“Damn, you don’t how to knock?”

“Hush. I’m having a threesome.” you plopped face-first onto her bed.

She shut the book she was reading, “A what?! I knew you and that lightskin were freaky frogs. Who’s it with?”

Muffled, “Aaron.”

“WHO?!”

You turned over on your back, “Aaron.”

“Oh, he’s hot. Have fun for real.”

“Have fun???? I’m supposed to fuck him in front of Kelvin.”

“That little cuck bitch. Y’all are nasty!”

“I know you ain’t talking, yo ass in a scandal now for sneaking around with most of the motherfuckers in my man’s friend group. You ain’t slick.”

“You didn’t even have to go there.”

“Well, I did. Anyways, I need help.”

“For what? You’re fucking tw…” she gags, “two hot men.”

You narrowed your eyes, “I heard that. You not slick.”

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever.”

“Kelvin and I are discussing things over with Aaron tonight over drinks. I just want things to go smoothly.”

“And things will, sis. Trust in your man, yourself, and most importantly, trust in that Henny.” she chuckled.

You laughed, “Bitch, you so stupid.”

“But that Henny’ll get you right. Nice and relaxed.”

“That’s true.” You got up off her bed, “I’m gonna go start getting ready.”

“Put on something sexy! And tell that lightskin that you wanna try double penetration!”

“Absolutely not!” you walked outta her room.

—-------------------------------

Kelvin walked into the apartment you shared with your group, per usual, like he lived there.

“Kelvin, what’s up?” the youngest member greeted him.

He smiled, “Hey, is she ready?”

“Almost. You want some water while you wait?”

“Nah, nah. I’ll be alright.” he went to the living room and sat on the couch.

“Lightskin!” the second youngest yelled as she sat next to him, “Y’all, uh, tryna have a threesome with A-A-ron I heard.”

Kelvin sighed, sometimes you were the bain of his existence, “Yeah and I heard you’re still getting death threats from fucking half of my friends and getting caught doing it, right?”

She nodded, “Okay okay. Coming with the jokes. I’ll leave you alone. I can see how nervous you are.”

Finally, you walked out of your room, “Is this whore bothering you?”

Kelvin stood up at the sound of your voice and walked over to you.

“Whore?? I resent that.”

“Sure you do. It’s practically tattooed on your forehead.”

Instead of answering, she just slumped down on the couch.

“Ready, babe?” he said kissing your cheek.

“Yeah, let’s go before I get the itch to ring somebody’s neck.”

And with that, y’all were off.

—---------------------------------

“When I agreed to drinks, I didn’t think you would’ve rented out a section for us. Why so secluded for some drinks?” Aaron said.

Kelvin smirked, “Oh, you know we just wanted some privacy for what we plan to talk about.”

“Talk about what?”

“Uh…” Kelvin trailed off, “Babe?”

Oh, he expected you to say this. You guess it’s only right since you were the one who brought it up to him.

“Aaron, we wanna ask if you’d be down to have a threesome with us. Total one time thing and it’s completely fine if you say no.”

Aaron chuckles and finishes his drink, “I think I’m gonna need another drink.”

“I think we all do.” Kelvin motioned for the waiter to bring y’all the bottle.

“Actually, leave it. Thank you,” you said to the waiter.

The waiter set the bottle on the table and walked off.

Aaron poured refills for you and Kelvin first then refilled his own and took a long sip, “Is that why you were you asking me about my kinks? I knew it wasn’t for a freaky-ass actor sex club!”

Kelvin chuckles, “Yeah, man... Sorry, I lied. I just wanted the best guy for this.”

“And what does your girl think?”

You took a sip of your drink, “His girl thinks you’re very sexy and that you look like you can fuck good.”

Aaron smirked, “Looks like you’re in luck, I never leave my partners unsatisfied. You’re both attractive and I’d never miss an opportunity to have two hot people in my bed.”

You smirk, thinking of a sly game to play. You slid your left hand onto Kelvin’s lap, switching between rubbing and squeezing his growing erection, and slid your right foot up Aaron’s leg, just resting the sole of your shoe on his crotch.

“Oh…” Aaron chuckles, “Someone wants the party to start early.”

“Seems like she does. Having fun baby?” Kelvin looks at you.

You smile a little, “Yeah, but I could have more if we get outta here.”

Aaron cleared his throat and then stood up, “I’ll get the check.”

“What a gentleman.” your boyfriend said.

Aaron leaned over to the side y’all were sitting on and said to no one in particular, “I’m always a gentleman.”

“Promise?” you said.

“Like I said, always.” then he walks away, searching for the waiter to pay.

“Kelvin he’s fucking perfect.”

“Yeah. I made a good choice didn’t I?”

“If your dick is anything to go by then I’d say you did. You’re hard as fuck.”

He glances down at his growing pain and holds in a groan, “Yeah, I am. Aaron’s hot as hell.”

“Thank you.” Aaron said, “Let’s get outta here. I got more liquor at my place and ya know, my bed. ”

You and Kelvin stood up quickly, sneaking glances at each other. Y’all knew a time would be had.

—---END—-------

Taglist: @itsbackwoodsbby @femdisa @luvrsluxe @ayeeeitsmiracle @sharmelasworld @papithetia @mzv11

Lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist!!!

[cosmic-vanity]

Something that really bothers me is that a lot of people seem to forget that Wicked is Jewish.

The musical was written by a Jewish man and Elphaba’s social treatment parallels the antisemitism that a visibly Jewish woman would face and the whole “green skin” bit was meant to parallel antisemitic caricatures and she was first played by an openly Jewish woman and even if Elphie is now played by Cynthia Erivo (notoriously not Jewish), the character is still Jewish at its core and- *gets fucking shot*

No but seriously I could go ONNNN!!! And the people in this fandom, especially those who’ve only joined the train recently, seem hellbent on acting like the musical wasn’t anything transgressive before the movie adaptation. I saw a tweet a few months ago from someone saying “Casting a black woman as Elphaba adds a level of depth and actual relatability to the story that wasn’t there before and makes the character less flat”, and it like actually kinda pissed me off… I understand that you prefer to see yourself represented but just because you haven’t experienced a certain kind of bigotry it doesn’t mean that stories about it are flat!!

I first watched Wicked when I was like eleven and even though I didn’t get it entirely, it FUCKED ME UP!!!!!!!!!!! AND I LOVED IT!!!!!!!! Because I felt Elphaba’s struggle so deep in my soul (not just because of the antisemitism but that was certainly one of the main factors) and Defying Gravity was such a huge moment for me… so don’t go around claiming that the story didn’t provide any real representation before or that it was one-dimensional or anything or I’ll THROW ROCKS AT YOUR HOUSE AND SET IT ON FIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[gatawoman]

Serenity of the Rain

Jason Todd x GN

Hiii guys, two things: 1st, this is my first time writing a story, and 2nd, I’m open to any suggestions or even if you guys want more :)

AN: Reader is a student at the University of Gotham who is trying to become a nurse and has known Jason since her childhood.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

Pit pat, pit pat. The sound of rain in Gotham is something that you have grown very much accustomed to hearing for as long as you can remember. That still doesn’t mean you aren’t annoyed with it, especially when you have an upcoming test in three days that you’re studying for.

A grunt leaves your lips as you find yourself distracted by every little sound your ears start picking up on: the sirens, the raindrops, the thunder—and your window being lifted up.

Your window being lifted up??

You drop your pen and slowly take the spiked bat Jason gave you as a joke (not really) as a late birthday gift and tiptoe your way to the living room. You see a tall figure entering your living room, and your arm winds up with all the strength you have to swing.

“Drop it. You should know by now it’s me,” Jason says with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, well, in a city where people go around in makeup or masks with leotards either committing crimes or stopping them, you don’t want to take the gamble, do you?” you snap back, a bit annoyed. It’s not like you don’t want him here. To be honest, as much as you’d hate to say it out loud, having him around always gives you a sense of security and peace of mind. “What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in space or something?”

“That was last week,” Jason says with an eyebrow raised. “C’mon, gorgeous. Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me,” he adds with a smirk.

The minute you’re about to retaliate, you notice something: his hand is holding onto his left side, his stance isn’t as straight, and the little wave of arrogance is replaced with a small, sharp inhale.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You rush to his side without hesitation, and all the annoyance you had leaves your mind, replaced by a blanket of concern.

“During a drug bust on Penguin’s goons, I got a tiny injury—nothing serious,” Jason replies as he slowly removes his hand from the delicate spot.

The minute his hand stops shielding the spot, you’re torn between yelling at him and punching him in the exact same place.

“Jason, a tiny injury is not a bullet wound!” you yell at him. “What’s going to happen if one day I’m not here and I can’t treat you? Who would you go to then? What would you do?” You feel bad, but you can’t help expressing your genuine concern and a bit of anger toward him. You and Jason have known each other since you were kids in Crime Alley. You’ve lost him before and can’t bear the thought of losing him again—or even not being there for him one day. The thought isn’t far-fetched; you live in Gotham, and you’re already proud you’ve made it this far without a freak-show incident happening to you.

And it’s like he can read your mind. His gloved hand reaches out to you. “Hey, look at me,” he says, holding your chin to make you look up at him. “Don’t you ever say that. I would never let anyone even touch a single hair on you, Y/N.” Jason’s voice, now serious and stern, somehow makes you even angrier.

You bite your tongue and guide him to the bathroom where you keep your first aid kit.

And you feel like you’re back to square one trying to concentrate on your work, this time on the needle you’re using to stitch up his wound. Your hands are shaky, and the room holds the noise of your uneven breath as you try to find a normal pattern. All you can think about is what if. What if you can’t be there for him one day? What if you lose him again? What if you never get the chance to say how you felt the minute his green eyes met yours in Crime Alley? It sometimes feels like you’re racing against time, but you’re losing. And, come on, you don’t even have any real combat knowledge—just some experience from street fights as a kid.

“Ouch.”

Your hand halts as you make eye contact with Jason.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Jay.” Great, you’ve caused the guy even more collateral damage.

“I’m joking. Just wanted to calm that little mind of yours. What’s going on in there, huh?” Jason’s eyes are filled with concern.

How do you even respond to that? Oh, nothing. You know, just thinking about how I might lose my best friend again without telling him I’m deeply in love with him. Totally normal. Yeah, no. Instead, you go with your go-to answer in these scenarios:

“Nothing’s going on. I’m just tired, Jay,” you say in the most neutral tone you can muster.

“Now you know, Y/N, I can tell when you’re lying,” Jason replies, his voice soft and delicate.

As you start putting your equipment away, you can’t help the annoying feeling of your chest becoming heavier and your eyes stinging as you fight tears. And it’s like he senses the shift in your emotions. Two strong arms wrap around you.

Silence takes over the room as your tears seep into Jason’s t-shirt. Not that you cry often, but when you do, you’ve always preferred silent comfort over being bombarded with questions. Jason knows that by now, and that’s what he gives you—a comforting silence, his actions showing you that he’s there.

You and Jason stand there for about five minutes. The tears start to dry, and your breathing returns to normal. You feel his rough thumb wipe your eyes.

“I’m not going to rush you to tell me what’s wrong, Y/N. I just want to know if I’m making it worse by being here right now,” Jason says.

“Don’t even think about leaving, Todd,” you reply, trying to lighten the mood by using his last name. Key word: try, but Jason knows you too well. He catches the hint of sadness in your voice.

A yawn escapes your mouth, the exhaustion of studying, overthinking, and crying draining you completely.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Jason says, scooping you up so suddenly you don’t have time to argue.

As your shoulders slump and he carries you to your room, your eyes grow heavy. You feel his arms dip, replaced by the softness of your comforter.

Just as Jason starts to leave, your hand shoots up, grabbing his.

“Stay,” you murmur before you can process what you’re asking for.

There’s a pause, then the bed dips as Jason lies down beside you. You don’t know if you imagine it, but you could swear you hear him say, “Always.”

The rhythm of his heartbeat mixes with the rain outside—a sound that, earlier, annoyed you but now brings a peace you haven’t felt in a long time. As sleep claims you, the fleeting thought crosses your mind: maybe he already knows how you feel.

[uncleasriel]

Oh my God, that makes so much sense!

The "fairy-tale-ness" is the exact mot juste that I was looking for! The way magic isn't especially world-built, or justified...that it's just a matter-of-fact property about the setting and its people. There's no mechanics, no magic system, no deep and layered worldbuilding, and that's fine.

The pleasure of those early books is watching the characters we've come to know be clever and courageous and leverage their virtues towards Stopping The Wicked Voldemort. It came together well,with just enough foreshadowing (like how it's a Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets is hinted at by folks getting paralyzed, and the smashed greenhouse) to make you feel like "I could have pieced it together if I had read it closer!"

It's satisfying in that way, even if (as some critics have pointed out) there is a sense of mean caricature in the characters that Rowling intends us not to like.

I'm glad you liked the Dahl comparison! Revisiting Charlie and the Chocolate Factory put me in mind about how Rowling & Roald Dahl both portray the sorts of people the author didn't like as cartoonish buffoons who get what's coming to them. I get that it is a little "ethically meanspirited", as LeGuin describes it, but I can't deny that sometimes a little meanspirited comedy can land - especially if you're a slightly messed-up kid wanting to vent at all the bullies and authoritarians of the adult world who are sometimes Like That.

I think that's why I bounced off the fourth book after Rowling divorced her editor made it big. The tone was distinctly not fairy tale anymore, and the push to make real-world politics meld with Wizard World politics felt tonally disconnected with what came before.

Before Rowling showed her ass as a bigot, I was content with the first three books. They were perfectly cromulent children's fiction, far from unreadable and enjoyable enough for a young reader. But if you were to drop a copy of them into a parallel world where Harry Potter Mania never existed, if you didn't have the bizarre conflux of publishing firms and advertising overreach and film rights all combine into that exact perfect storm in the mid-to-late 90s... I highly doubt they'd make the same kind of splash.

After Rowling went full Mask Off... I really don't think I should be defending this series. There's nothing so special about them that warrants enriching a bigot, and I think it would be best if the series was laid to rest. One day, when the death of the author becomes a literal death (and not a rationale to excuse supporting a vocal transphobe shit-heel "cuz 8th birfday was Pottah themed!"), then maybe someone could do something with the IP that's halfwauy decent. But them I'm left asking....

...why bother? There are so many more compelling stories waiting to be told than just recapitulating to a long-gone childhood nostalgia.

Basically:

for the record even if we lived in a universe where jk rowling wasn't a fundamentally evil person, and every dollar spent on harry potter merchandise wasn't being funneled directly into anti-trans causes, I would still think grown ass adults who are unable to help themselves from purchasing every possible thing from a mediocre childrens book franchise are extremely pathetic people

[kinardsevan]

How confident are you about BuckTommy getting back together? How do you think it might happen?

I don't know that I've put a number on it. And on one hand, it's because I live in this weird limbo where I'm positive they're getting back together because that's just how you tell a story. but I'm also one of those people who struggles to trust the writers not to fumble shit. So... I mean it's definitely more than 50/50. if I had to choose a number, I guess somewhere around 85/90%. because realistically, that number has only strengthened with my resolve over time (aka the hiatus).

now, I don't have a crystal clear idea on when they get back together. in fact, I spent roughly an hour on a video chat last night throwing out all the various scenarios that I think play into how it happens. hear me out:

so I think I was the first (and possibly only) person who commented on the fact that 806 being when they broke up signaled the end of the opening arc of the season. we're now in the midseason, telling that part of the story, and then obviously 807-812 will be the mid-season, and so forth with 813-818 being the final third. You can even arguably flex the middle part back into 811 if TM really wants the finale to be a multi-episode arc, as has been suggested. that all said, I think there are a few things that 805-808 set up for the rest of the middle of this season.

we got a lot of suggestion toward something happening. I'm really kinda sold on a helicopter crash actually happening midseason, mostly because I feel like holding it off for the finale would piss off the people who would be like "Tommy's not a MC". I also think that (unfortunately) not everyone views Tommy in the same blorbo shape we do, so as much as we would enjoy a three episode arc with a helicopter crash, coma, etc.,....it's just not going to shake out that way. Not even if all of this has been done (the break up I mean) as a push for the network to pony up more money to add him to the main cast (that's my own theory, there's absolutely no proof of it).

I know I've listed all of these in previous asks, but just in case this is the first one you're seeing, let's go through the list:

805: "having a crew like this around you when things go wrong" "especially when things go wrong" // "our people are what make our lives worth living

806: "no matter how badly I want it to be, I'm not your last" "they can be the same thing" // (Buck's entire understanding by the end of the Glee scene that yes, he is in fact in love with Tommy, even if he didn't say it)

807: ALL the baking. We have to reference back to 705 when Buck told Eddie "I kinda can't stop thinking about him", which then translatd in 807 to "whenever I think about calling Tommy, I channel it into something positive" (i.e., the baking), and we also know he's constantly baking. Even in 808, he has the entire basket that he shows up to Eddie's house with, which very much suggests, he's trying to move on, but is still very much in love with Tommy. ALSO, the "what if he's hurt and needs my help" 808: I honestly feel like the only real scenes that we got in this entire episode that moved the plot forward at all were the scene (sort-of) with Eddie and Brad (which honestly should've been Bobby/Eddie, but whatever), and the scene with Buck and Eddie. There's also this fascinating conversation that could be had about Buck with the whole "I'm still jonesing for it"/wanting to keep baking. There's so much out of 807 and 808 that really point to Oliver's commentary with the post-806 interview where he talked about Buck swinging like a pendulum, trying to figure out if he should reach out or just let go. But here's the thing: there's no closure on this. Given that we follow the story through Buck's eyes, the show is telling us that Buck has not been able to shut the door on this relationship, which really serves us (the audience) then, with the need for this to be hashed out, for Buck to say his piece, and then let pieces lie where they may.

Now, the naysayers will argue that this could just be a final conversation of goodbye, and they're welcome to feel that way. Except.

"No matter how bad I want it to be" // "We don't have to get engaged or married" -- Even as a general audience member, I think people can understand that these are serious statements. They're both saying that they want a future together, but Tommy's fear (and Buck's steamrolling) have (temporarily) put a stop to that. I think there's also a point in some of the statements that came out of that same post-806 interview, where TM said Tommy was setting Buck "free" to explore his sexuality and learn more about himself.

now, there are a million and a half interpretations to this. some people think that Buck absolutely needs to seek out and understand more about himself (and by extension, Tommy). some (like me) don't feel that this is a show that's ever going to publicly acknowledge Buck having a scene where he says the words "I'm bisexual" out loud. I've also seen a take recently that was half meta/half fic kinda looking at the idea of Buck's questioning in 806 being because he didn't fully understand the engagement of the outside world to their relationship. the only problem with that rhetoric is that we have 705 and 706. we have the coffee date, where he holds Tommy's hand and publicly asks him on date, and then we have him kissing the other man in public. if he's done it once, he's done it a million times after six months, so I don't think you're facing a situation where he's uncomfortable with who he is, especially when he openly outed himself to every person he loves with said boyfriend. (granted, there are complaints about the whole "I noticed you didn't" conversation, at which I feel the need to remind people that, in the grand scheme it may not seem like that conversation makes much sense, but Buck is the vehicle through which the show was using to get to the story about Abby; also there's a difference between asking someone about their sexuality versus asking them if they've ever been with x gender. I also cannot stress the importance in that particular scene of, Buck is and always has been bisexual. Even if he's only recently come to understand that's what it is, he has ONLY EVER KNOWN having the concept of being sexually attracted to both genders, even if he didn't think that dating men was an option before Tommy. [and also, there's such a full-on essay I could write about this issue alone, given his upbringing]. I think in relation to that, you have to be understanding to his "I noticed you didn't", because he probably can't conceptualize a version of people who are only straight or gay, because he's always looked at both the same way.)

THAT ALL SAID:

obviously I've commentated on the fact that we're going to get some kind of injury/accident/etc. Another quote that stays in my mind with the interviews post-806 was the final line in one where Oliver made the statement that "it's 911, there's always trauma coming". (I'm butchering that, but it's the general point). granted, we can take that as we choose/view it through the lens of Maddie's kidnapping... except, someone asked @nqueso-emergency recently about the episodes that had been directed by the directors of 809/10, and looking at that list as I was literally watching several of those episodes really led me to the idea that there's the possibility that we're been fed a swerve with what we know about the coming episodes. we've been told Maddie will be kidnapped, and even shown those scenes. I've personally questioned/theorized whether that will somehow feed into the b/t of it all, and Buck's situationship he's going fall into. obviously because we don't actually have answers, there's a million different ways that could pan out.

when I tell you I have a million and a half theories... I have a million and a half theories.

Like... what if Buck also gets kidnapped and it has to do with the situationship? Or what if it doesn't, but he still gets kidnapped? Or what if Tommy is kidnapped along with Maddie, and it is or isn't related to the situationship, but generally has something to do with Buck and Maddie? I just keep coming back to this thing of the eventual rescue that has to come out of the kidnapping, and the different ways that can play out. One of the things I was thinking most about lately was how I feel like you could see the episode end similarly to 610, where things feel like they've settled and they're going to be okay (Maddie's been found; Tommy and Chimney going after the Buckleys to bring them home, helicopter crash being the final scene of the episode), which would then tee up an entire episode where you can play out the drama of the break up, whatever confessions came through the kidnapping, etc. because that's my other thing: I genuinely feel like whatever disaster is going to befall Tommy that leads to him realizing that these people are also his people, is going to be with Evan. TM has done this before (most notably with Judd, from my own memory of LS). crashing the helicopter with the two of them together and forcing them to survive while having unresolved issues really forces them to lay things out to one another. now. will that necessarily be how the show does it?

who knows.

I've also flirted with the idea of Chimney and Tommy going after Buck and Maddie (because at the end of the day, this is a rehashing of Doug kidnapping Maddie, so we know Buck will go after her), and there not being a helicopter crash, but Tommy getting into trouble for taking government property (again), but this time getting in actual trouble for it. if they wanted to play into the entire "Eddie going to Texas" storyline, they could demote him, ship him back to the 118 (I just keep hearing Chief Alonzo tell him "since you love the 118 so much, you can go back there"), and the following episodes really playing into OS' slow burn of them not being together but also having forced proximity, which obvs would ultimately lead to them getting back together by the end of the season. this also really tees up the option that people like where we get storytelling on Tommy's past through him and Buck just generally being forced to engage more in a way that isn't romantic. and then obvs by the end of the season, Eddie would come back, Tommy would do some heroic shit that would get him back to the 217, and so forth.

the last little idea I've played with most recently, post-810, is the idea that they do the kidnapping, the resolution (without Tommy at all), and we see a massive time jump. Truth be told, I don't think they'll skip over baby Han #2's birth, but I also was kinda like "...but what if they did?" what if we skipped ahead in the timeline a year or two? Eddie going to Texas, Madney having their baby, Bathena's house being finished, Henren having their time with their kids, and Buck having his "discovery stage".... only to circle back around to the fact that over the course of a year (or two, etc), he's still in love with Tommy. Sure, the infatuation is quieter now in his head, not as prominent and the grief doesn't hurt as much... but any time they run into each other on-scene or in public, that pang is still there. the love is still there. you could really parlay that into something akin to when Maddie went back to Chimney in 218 to reconcile, which I think is an option. Maybe even twist it into a version of "you were my first, and I still want you to be my last".

the only other version of this I have personally conceptualized is the idea that the kidnapping happens (once again without any involvement with Tommy), things are working out, Buck is having his situationship... and then the helicopter crash happens. I've definitely flirted with idea leaning towards Buck/Josh because I think the bones are all already there, at which point you then get some level of a scene where there's a group scene, the news of the crash is heard, and you swiftly get this acknowledgment of "welp, that's over". because I am not at all putting it past this show to use a NDE to be what pushes b/t back together. especially because, at the end of the day, these are two people who told each other they want to spend the rest of their lives together (refer back to my barriers comment above). I will not put it past them to have what shakes Tommy's resolve is one of them almost dying and realizing he'd rather be scared and alive than know one of them could be dead and not have had that time together.

anyway....i've word vomited for ages now. this took me like an hour to write. you're welcome.

yall really gotta stop sending me these asks b/c then I just hyperfixate and go all "look at my brainmap!"

[himluv]

I agree with you on the Solavellan ending. I love the angst and tragedy and I'm eating the idea of Solas and Lavellan having a lot to unpack once in the fade. Dramatic confrontations, tears, breakdowns and a slow road to forgiveness,. Delicious food. But I'm really annoyed with a portion of the fandom that seems to just gloss over the fact that Solas killed Varric, someone who was always kind to Lavellan and was even her friend. And even if you don't like Varric personally he is in canon a relatively decent person who tried to reach out to Solas on a compassionate level. Then he used a blood magic puppet of him to manipulate Rook... IDK the way that seems to mean little to nothing to a lot of Solavellans kind of bothers me. I'm not here to tell anyone how they can or can't play but the takes have been so bad. The infantilization, excuses and woobification of our boy are so egregious. Solas is complex and morally gray. Why would we be going through the effort of redeeming him if he wasn't doing things that would require redemption in the first place? I've felt really disconnected from the rest of the fandom because of all of the softening of his character people have been doing and it's refreshing to hear a take from someone who loves Solas but doesn't want to defang him.

Thanks for this thoughtful reply to this post! Sorry this took awhile, but I've been thinking of what I wanted to say. Long and spoiler-riddled reply below, and I don't even know how relevant it is to your reply, Nonny. Sorry!

I think A Lot of folks have spent the last 10 years rotating him in their heads like one throws a clay pot, molding him into something he could be based on what we knew about him. But, we didn't necessarily account for the other forms he could take. And some folks are very resistant to who he's canonically become by Veilguard. Because it's not a good form, he got Worse™ in his decade away from friends and love (shocker!), and it's hard to reconcile this version of him with the ones we may have made.

I get all of that. But I also LOVE that. It means he could still surprise me, and I got to experience this weird duality of love/hate I didn't expect to feel toward him. I got to see his lies in real time, know he was lying because I KNOW HIM, and go, "oh, you little shit (affectionate)". Like, that's just FUN! Which, last time I checked was in fact the point of video games.

I love that he is unpredictable and dangerous in this game. That we finally see him go all out, and use every skill and trick he has. That is THRILLING, especially because he's more dangerous and lethal and ruthless than I personally expected. Which... Is my fault. I should have expected it, because look what he did to Felassan. Look how he so easily killed all those Qunari in Trespasser. Look what he did with those spirits of chaos and disruption. Look what he did to the Titans! I should have known better, the games and books showed me time and again what he was capable of. I just didn't want to believe it.

I've seen some posts talking about how Lavellan approaches Solas at the very last confrontation. How carefully she goes up the stairs towards him. I've seen several interpretations of it, but there's one I haven't seen (which could be because I'm not hanging out in the Solavellan tag much these days).

She takes those stairs slowly, as if approaching a spooked horse, because the last time someone climbed a set of stairs to talk him down from his ritual, he killed them. And I don't think for one second Lavellan believes, if she handles this poorly, he won't do the same to her.

And I think she is 100% right. He would, perhaps on "accident" as he claims to Neve was the case with Varric (debatable - seemed pretty intentional if maybe a bit impulsive from here). But I firmly believe there is a world where Solas would stab his vhenan if he had to and certain conditions hadn't been met (and yes that would utterly destroy him).

She walks up those stairs to him, her vhenan, knowing this is it. Their final stand. She will save him from himself, whatever it takes, and she is prepared to die at his hands if it comes to that. And it so easily COULD HAVE.

I don't know. I just think that Veilguard gave us SO MUCH more insight into Solas and there's so much there to chew on. I think we're going to be able to go back through all the games and codices and so many little details are going to fit together and complete a puzzle we didn't even know we were making.

After all of this, I still have so much to think on 😂. I'm going to be living in Thedas for another decade at this rate!

Good. I don't ever want to leave.