#he honestly does very well under the circumstances

[rainbow-femme]

So, after a life of near total social isolation, Neil’s first real connection you would call friendship is with Kevin

Kevin learned his friendship skills from 1. The Ravens (Mafia sport cult) 2. Andrew

After a life of abuse and abandonment, Andrew’s first real experience of friendship is Renee

And Renee’s main socialization in life before college is 1. Born-again church 2. Knife gang

Feel like the upperclassmen need to cut Neil more slack with the whole “doesn’t understand how normal friendship works” thing. He’s four layers deep into the world’s most unhelpful game of human interaction telephone

[lcriedlastnight]

hihi congrats on 500 followers wohooo!!! i love your writing sm you deserve 500 and many many many more <3

for your special how about either oscar or lando (you decide bb) who always wants his best friend (reader) to come to one of his races and then that ONE time it actually works out he wins and instead of being normal about it the first thing he does is run to his bestie and kiss her ?? romcom vibes iygm <33

have fun with it lovie!! if you don’t want to write it don’t worry it’s just an idea ofc

my baby i love the bones of you! i love love love this idea tysm 💗

reqs are still open cuz my laptop is fixed!!!

1.2k words.

oscar didn’t mind that you had a life outside of him. he honestly didn’t. most best friends did. he himself had a life that didn’t revolve around you so why should he expect you to? his mother had told him that it was the part of him that was in love with you that wanted him to be the centre of attention. at first he was shocked by the very thought of being in love with you. but then when he saw you for the first time after that conversation with his mother, it hit him like a grand piano falling on top of him in the middle of the street.

since his realisation he had begged you to come to a race and cheer him on. it baffled you because for as long as you had known oscar he had never really bothered about you coming to watch him race, it’s not like he came to watch you type up a report at your office. so when he started getting on your case about it, well it made you wonder what exactly had changed.

“please! i am begging you to come with me. just this once.” oscar had pleaded from your couch. it was the summer break and he had decided to stop over at yours for a sleepover, having missed you while being away racing for the past god knows how long.

you rolled your eyes. “why do you keep asking me? you never cared before.” you retorted knowing that this would shut oscar up. it always did.

“i miss you a lot while i’m away. you are my best friend you know. face time doesn’t do it for me anymore.” oscar had pulled your feet to rest on his thighs as some stupid romcom played on your tv in the background.

you don’t know what tugged at your heartstrings this time, maybe it was his honestly and not shutting you out this time. or maybe it was the face that you really did want to watch him in his element. you would’ve killed to watch him win his first race, even under the circumstances.

“fine but you better win to make it worth it.”

this conversation plays in oscar’s mind the entire way to baku. you sat next to him nervously. it wasn’t your first time flying, but it was your first time flying in max verstappen’s private jet with your best friend, his teammate and the current world champion.

oscar’s hand makes its way over to your knee to give a supportive squeeze and both lando and max can tell that there is nothing platonic about the two of you. lando wonders when something will get done about it.

★・・・・・・★

was it too ridiculous for oscar to hope for a only one room, only one bed situation? when he had confided in lando - he laughed in his face. so it was safe to say that it was but that didn’t stop oscar from hoping.

you end up in the room beside oscar, close but not close enough. you were oscar’s guest for the entire weekend, except thursday. that was your day to explore the wonderful city, this was such a long way from home and you were so excited to find some of the city’s most beautiful areas. this was an agreement you had made with oscar about your time here and he had begrudgingly agreed. he would rather with him the whole weekend but you knew how media days worked and if you were honest you could’ve be arsed with the whole hassle of it.

oscar wasn’t too fragile to admit that he did in fact miss you while you were off galavanting. he wanted to be there with you but alas, he had a job to do.

when you eventually did return to the hotel around dinner time, you sat with oscar and showed him everything you had seen that day while he listened intently with the biggest smile on your face. he owed his mum big time.

oscar does great over the practice sessions and you enjoy getting to watch him race around the track, getting a feel for the weekend ahead of him. watching him made you realise how much you actually enjoyed watching f1 as a whole. not even just your boyfriend- i mean your best friend. not that you wanted him to be your boyfriend or anything, that would just be crazy!

on saturday you watch oscar cross the line and qualify second on the grid and it makes you buzz with excitement. you wait for oscar in the mclaren garages to congratulate him. not really knowing where you should be during this time of celebration.

oscar finds you moments after his interview and pictures are taken like it’s his only purpose this weekends. you elect to ignore the raging butterflies the look in his eyes gives you when he finally spots you in the sea of papaya mechanics.

“hi! well done that was amazing! you were so fast!” you say through a giggle as oscar engulfs you in a hug that is worthy of the big screen. oscar mumbles something into your neck and all you can think is that you could definitely get used to this.

★・・・・・・★

the sight of a ferrari and a redbull colliding made your stomach sink. even when you knew both drivers were okay it worried you to no end, knowing that oscar puts himself in the way of that kind of danger multiple times a year and you had no idea just how dangerous it was until now. the chaos made your mind temporarily forget about oscar leading the race.

in what feels like seconds later, oscar crossed the finish line first and like a sheep you follow the mechanics to watch the podium.

what you didn’t know though, was that oscar had only one thing on his mind at the moment. and it wasn’t even getting his second win and proving all the critics wrong when they said that he wasn’t deserving of that win in hungary. he had to see you. his lucky charm. he raced like a god out there and in his love-struck mind he had no one else to thank other than you.

after stopping his car and almost sliding off of it he spots you waiting for him and his mind doesn’t take a second to think about what he’s about to do as he races towards you with what must be the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him. his flushed cheeks and the pure sparkle of happiness in his eyes makes you light up with joy. he gets to you in record time and you don’t get to tell him well done or even let him know that his mum is a few people away because he is taking your face in his hands and he is planting the sweetest kiss on your lips. he doesn’t ask and even though it doesn’t bother you, you can tell he feels horribly about it when he pulls away and eventually spots his mum. with no time to talk about what happened you just let him run over to her with a grin that matched his.

there was plenty of time to tell him how much you loved him once he got down from the top step of the podium anyway.

neither of you were aware of the cameras on you during that (what should’ve been) private moment so when you show oscar a cute edit of the both of you, where the clip of what your first public ans actual kiss was played first he just pulls you in for another that was probably your fifth hundred.

[shiongenkai]

Taiga, Romeo, and Gluttony

NOTE: This post contains spoilers for the entirety of the recently released Auction chapter. Read at your own risk.

So the recent chapter was everything to me. It was the shortest, but in my opinion it showed us a lot about Taiga and Romeo and their relationship to one another, and it also helped me refine a specific thought I had about Taiga and his whole deal he has going on.

To put it shortly; I think Taiga has a gluttony curse, and I think it functions as a mirror to that of Romeo's stigma, and is part of why they had a falling out, and why they can't seem to get away from each other.

To put it horrifically, horribly long....

So what do I mean when I say Taiga is cursed? Well, exactly that. I believe he's cursed in a similar way Rui or the MC are; he has an insatiable need to eat anomalies. I believe that this grants certain side effects like the MC and Rui's curse, and that one of them is a sixth sense for anomalies and anomalous circumstances.

I want to explain this before the Romeo part, because it's the basis for my analysis and thoughts on the two of them.

To start from the very beginning; I think Taiga, during one of his missions, was cursed by something like a jikininki as punishment for his 'gluttony' — the rapid rate at which he completed missions in his first year. This left him with his insatiable need to eat anomalies, but more specifically, is the reason he doesn't seem to want to eat them.

While I'm not certain the anomaly is for certain a jikininki, especially because there's certainly other similar folk legends out there, I chose that one specifically because they are noted for their sharp teeth and for not liking the insatiable need to eat corpses.

Now, what does this mean for Taiga? I think he's stuck between being a ghoul and being a jikininki, or whatever anomaly it ends up being, and I think this has given him a sixth sense that messes with his perception of time, self, and memory. But why would it do that?

Jikininki are immortal creatures, and wish to be freed from the torment they're in for the most part. If one was cursed to be part Jikininki, it would make sense for their existence to be similarly excruciating, with a difference being a lack of full immortality.

Remember the Mortkranken chapter, with the failed mermaid flesh? How their bodies continued even as their minds didn't? Taiga has multiple lines detailing how his 'body' remembers, even if his mind doesn't. Yuri and Jiro also explain that part of the side effects of the reaction are rapid mental deterioration. If Taiga had gone through a similar deterioration, it would explain his seemingly sporadic memory loss (not total blackouts like Jiro, nor specific category based amnesia either, just like. Random shit) and the fact that he doesn't have a concrete sense of identity (showcased through his constantly shifting first-person pronoun choice in Japanese). His cells of his body are reverting to their pre-aged self, and his mind is attempting to do that too, but it's imperfect and messy.

The key to the idea of the sixth sense comes from the fact that he's specifically cursed for anomalous gluttony. I think that he can sense anomalous material or anomalies themselves, and as demonstrated from Ed, this includes some sort of future sense. While we don't know the full specifics of what a sixth sense grants, we can see him utilise it in multiple different places. It's also, in my opinion, why he was sent on the Prologue mission.

Some examples of his supposed sixth sense are how he intuitively understood the anomalous dealer's entire thing, the scenes where he knows the Like Dove will appear before it does, when he senses Romeo approaching (Romeo is carrying an anomaly: his artifact), how he understands the auction is an anomaly, when he gets the mask under unknown circumstances, when he directly knows there's no anomalies... the list honestly could go on forever.

There's one other fact that I personally believe sealed this theory for me; his association with Haku.

In the recent chapter, when the MC is thinking about who to talk to about curses, Taiga instantly knows who we're thinking of, and rejects it on the basis that '[He] can't get rid of curses unless the anomaly that did the deed's right in front of him.' and that he's a 'Simp for the rules anyway.'

... Which is interesting, since it seems like Taiga has tried to ask him about this before. But if you think of this as Haku's stigma, and imagine Taiga trying to get his curse cleansed before, it makes sense! It would also be a good reason to put Haku and Taiga together in the prologue; Taiga can track the anomaly with his sense, and Haku can cleanse whatever curse it gives so long as Taiga manages to capture it or subdue it for long enough.

(Which, side note, is so tragic for the MC...)

Okay, now that the basis of 'Taiga is cursed' is out of the way, how on earth does this relate to Romeo?

Simple. I think Taiga's curse directly mirror's Romeo's stigma, and it's what caused their rift.

Romeo's stigma, as we learn in the new chapter as well, is dependent on his attachment to the items he throws. This, thematically, works with Romeo, who is known to be greedy. Everything he does is motivated by a profit of some kind, whether that profit is social or monetary or whatever. He wants special privileges so he does special missions. He wants money so he raises fees and coerces people to gamble. He wants popularity so he dresses nicely and pampers himself. It doesn't always mean he is money grubbing and stingy (because we see he's willing to spend lavishly on grooming and decor!) but it means that he's attached to what he has. His stigma requires him to give up that attachment. It is a punishment, a sacrifice, as a result of the pact. Similar to how Luca lost his brother (and gained a protective stigma), Romeo has to lose what he feels is worth something in order to fully utilise his ability. Call it a sort of pride.

I think, on the other hand, Taiga's curse is one of envy. He has a desire to eat anomalies, yes, but the desire becomes stronger the more attached someone else is to the anomaly. He doesn't need any interest in it, really. If someone else likes it he will need to eat it.

Taiga covets Haru's Peekaboo to eat instead of the wild one that we also know is in Jabberwock. He's composed about the Like Dove (barely, but he restrains himself!) until Romeo wants it. He steals the plants from Rui's BAR, not the ones in the garden outside (both are Rui's, but his bar is arguably the more loved thing of his since it was fully his choice). He covets Mortkranken's anomalies, and becomes mildly obsessed with the immortal one as soon as it becomes a major research subject. He's also completely fine holding and handling the mask, presumably for a long time, up until Romeo sees it as valuable and worthy.

Now, this doesn't necessarily make them instantly incompatible. But when you take one of Romeo's core traits being 'Greed towards anomalies' (He wants to collect them and frequently complains that other houses are 'stealing' them from under him; he sells them; he gets missions from Hyde to get them; etc), it becomes evidently clear that Taiga's curse is directly oppositional to it.

I think it's pretty obvious by now that Taiga and Romeo have a pretty turbulent relationship now, but were extremely close in the past. Multiple characters state that it would be nice to see them on good terms again, and it's certainly worth mentioning that Romeo is one of the few people Taiga consistently remembers. They both know each other exceptionally well, too. Taiga knows how to get under Romeo's skin and Romeo knows Taiga's habits.

Going back to the idea of this curse causing their rift, if Romeo was constantly on the verge of an important capture, or even if there was just one mission that was important, and Taiga ruined it by eating the anomaly, I doubt Romeo would easily forgive and forget. I think it could very easily cause a massive rift that just kept growing with each new snack Taiga picked up.

I think a moment that gets its nuance overlooked a lot is the scene just before Taiga eats the dove. The Japanese line emphasises that Taiga is referring to HIS heart, that Romeo could shoot through HIS heart, not just a general appraisal of sharpshooting. He even points directly to his heart as he says this, and it makes Romeo hesitate. They're BOTH in pain in this scene. They're both conflicted; this is their ex-partner (which I don't mean in the romantic sense, just in the general sense) who they were very, very close with, and who is now literally at arms length with a loaded gun. Romeo could just shoot him. Romeo could put an end to all of this supposed pain. And Taiga might even let him. And wouldn't that be karma for all he's done? But he can't. He hesitates.

And you know what appears after that? The dove.

This dove that symbolises both general desire (flies over peoples' heads when they're thought about) and Romeo's desire. His desire to escape probation. His desire to make money. His desire to capture, not kill. His desire to reconcile instead of fight. His desire to shoot.

And Taiga kills it. Eats it.

I think this is the most tragic scene between the two of them. This is the crux of it; they both want to reconcile. They want to be friends, to be close, to stop the war raging between the two of them that has done nothing but hurt them both AND hurt the wellbeing of Sinostra, but they can't, because Romeo will ALWAYS desire, and Taiga will ALWAYS take that from him.

It's a cycle they can't escape. The auction chapter shows it too. Taiga is almost disappointed at Romeo's greed. He seems jaded by it, and seems proud and happy when Romeo gives it up for once. Romeo is happy too; MC goes out of her way to say that Taiga handing him the mask makes him look more peaceful than he ever has before. It is quite literally a perfect ending for the two of them and a perfect way to reconcile.

And then Taiga eats it! Again! But I think the most horrifying part of it is that he tries to warn Romeo.

The comic doesn't translate or even transcribe it, so it's so, so easy to miss, especially if you don't speak Japanese, but Taiga grunts out the words 'I', 'Eat', and 'Next' as he approaches Romeo and the mask, and it's the direct reason why Romeo is able to realise that Taiga is about to eat it before it actually happens. He basically just grunts out 'I'm gonna eat that next' as he's fighting against it! But inevitably, neither of them can stop it. The cycle continues.

As long as Romeo is greedy, and as long as Taiga is gluttonous, they will never be able to fully reconcile, no matter how much they both want it. Both of them have to change, but I want to point out that at this moment Romeo is the bigger active obstacle between the two of them. Romeo can't let things go, he holds onto everything and lets it build until it explodes in one way or another. Tiris, his stigma, is symbolic in that sense, that he has to learn to let things go, because if he lets it build too much it will explode spectacularly.

(All of the ghouls have this sort of symbolism with their stigma, so it's not just a Romeo thing, but it's definitely important to his character.)

But Romeo can't get over it yet. He can't get over his greed, he can't let go of things he can't achieve (like getting Kaito's necklace), he can't get over past betrayals (Taiga, what happened with his family, etc)... He's too stuck and stubborn, and his refusal to budge has therefore lead to Taiga's refusal to push. Taiga has stopped caring about getting on good terms because he knows it won't turn out well. He's given up and become cynical, which in turn means that IF Romeo were to change, Taiga... still probably wouldn't. They're cyclical again. Always, always missing each other. So close and yet so far.

I hope the MC can be the catalyst for this cycle to end. Or Ritsu, who is a good equalizer to the two of them. But until she learns to see her own worth in the Academy, and until Ritsu accepts that sometimes he's wrong / he doesn't always know the most out of everyone in the room, I'm afraid Romeo and Taiga will remain stuck in this loop forever...

[portagas-chan]

Yours Forever and Ever : Part 2

Yandere Katakuri x Isekai Reader

Things to note: Angst, Manipulative Behavior - where Katakuri gaslights [Y/n] and guilt-trips her.

Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/portagas-chan/750092733174169600/yours-forever-and-ever-part-3

Much to her surprise, Katakuri has been very nice to her. His behavior towards her was like a slap to her face when she compared it to the possible worst-case scenarios she had of him. It's not like she was complaining though.

"Are you bored?"

Katakuri's voice snapped her out of her daze. She was sitting on the edge of his bed and was daydreaming. Katakuri sat on what seemed like his working desk, writing something. It probably has something to do with the wedding preparations.

"Kind of?" [Y/n] tilted her head.

Katakuri looked at her before dropping his quill pen and walking towards her. The bed shifted a little when he sat beside her.

"I've been wanting to ask you something," Katakuri started. [Y/n] stared at him silently, waiting for him to continue. "How do you feel about this whole thing?"

"Which one? Being kidnapped and held as a hostage or my friend's wedding with your sister?"

"Everything," Katakuri answered.

"Sure, this whole thing was unexpected but I'm not bothered at all," She shrugged.

"And why is that?"

"Well, when you have someone like Luffy as your captain, crazy things always happen which is normal. Plus, I have faith in Luffy. I know we will always find a way out of difficult situations," Katakuri noticed how her lips curled up into a soft smile, how her eyes looked innocent and overall, a gentle expression she has on her face.

Katakuri was jealous of Luffy. He didn't like how she was so devoted to Luffy. How much she trusted him and her loyalty towards him. What does that damn straw hat has that he doesn't? What should he do to make her act the same towards him? He didn't know but one thing for sure, no matter what, he would never let go of her.

Katakuri hesitated to ask but did it anyway, "Does that mean... you will leave me?"

[Y/n] paused not knowing what to say. Katakuri had been sweet to her. He was kind and she felt grateful towards him but staying here forever? She couldn't see that happening. She didn't mind visiting him occasionally but being stuck in a place forever? Joining a crew as worse as the Big Mom pirates? Yeah, no.

Katakuri was such a sweetheart and a good friend of hers. He'd probably be happy if she accepted his offer to join his crew but that was only him and maybe Brulee too but the others? She'd probably spend the rest of her life being bullied by them whenever Katakuri wasn't around.

"[Y/n]?" Katakuri called her. She looked at him in the eyes and sighed, "Katakuri, you're a very nice person and I'm thankful for that. I honestly don't know what would have happened to me if your siblings were the ones I'd be held hostage by."

Katakuri smiled under his scarf, "It's not a problem at all."

"But I don't think I can abandon my crew for something like that," [Y/n] didn't dare to look at him in the eyes. She knew Katakuri would be upset.

"Am I not important to you?" His voice was cold and there was a hint of sadness behind it.

"You are!" She quickly denied him. "It's just.. you know, I don't know how to explain it but I will come by and visit you often," She tried to reassure him but it didn't help. Katakuri was still gloomy.

[Y/n] was met with silence. Katakuri didn't even look at her. He just stared into space not saying anything which worried her. She placed her hand on his and squeezed it lightly, "Katakuri? I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I wish we met under different circumstances."

"I don't want that," Katakuri mumbled but [Y/n] couldn't make out what he said.

"Come again?"

Katakuri slowly took off his scarf, dropping it on the floor. He finally faced [Y/n] but this time his whole face was exposed, allowing her to see his expression.

When she saw her face, it shocked her. His mouth turned downwards, frowning. His eyebrows knitted together and his eyes reflected desperation, frustration, and sadness. [Y/n] had never seen Katakuri like this. The only time she had seen him with this kind of expression was when he was younger and Brulee got hurt.

"I don't want that, [Y/n]!" He hugged her. "Please don't leave me."

[Y/n] didn't know what to say. Why was Katakuri acting like this? She couldn't think of any other reason but one. He liked her but why? They haven't known each other for long. Was it love at first sight? No, that was absurd and out of character for him.

[Y/n] remembered something and wanted to make sure what she thought was right. She pushed Katakuri away and looked at him.

"Why did you take off your scarf?"

Katakuri was taken aback by her sudden question.

"You never took it off so I assume that it's your biggest insecurity," She continued. "So, why?"

Katakuri sighed, "Because I trusted you. I had a feeling you wouldn't judge me." Well, he wasn't wrong but he literally killed people if they saw him like this even if it was unintentional, and yet here he was, taking it off and showing his weakness to her willingly.

So, she was right. Katakuri liked her but what about her? She didn't know how to feel about this. She knew about Katakuri but never got to know him personally.

"Or am I wrong? Do you hate me now because I look like this?" Katakuri said which made her stare at him in disbelief. "What? No! Are you kidding me?"

Katakuri smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear, "Then, I don't see the problem here."

[Y/n] avoided his eyes and sighed, "No, you are not getting it, Katakuri. I can't just abandon my crew. I have friends out there and I can't leave them like-"

Katakuri cut her off with a groan, "It's always about your crew. What about me? Do you not care about me? Then all those words you said were just words that meant nothing. You're lying to me, [Y/n]."

"No, Katakuri, that's not what I meant," But she was cut off by the knocks from a servant.

"Katakuri-sama? Mama would like to see you," He said before leaving.

"It's okay, you can stop pretending to care. It hurts more if you act like you care. I would prefer if you didn't and just be honest with me," Katakuri said as he got up from the bed and put on his scarf.

He started to walk away but [Y/n] immediately followed him.

"Wait, no! You've got it all wrong!" She grabbed his arm to stop him but Katakuri shook it off. With his strength, [Y/n] fell onto the ground and yelped in pain.

Katakuri looked at her and for a moment, he felt bad for hurting her. It wasn't his intention to hurt her and never will he hurt her. He walked back to her and crouched down.

He took her wrists in his hand and destroyed those cuffs. [Y/n] closed her eyes waiting for the explosion but it never came. She opened her eyes and was met with Katakuri's cold ones.

"It was just a fake to scare you off."

[Y/n] looked at her now free hands and looked back at Katakuri.

"You're free now. You can run back to your crew that you love so much and leave me behind," Katakuri said making her feel a pang of guilt.

[Y/n] didn't move an inch. She stayed in the same position.

"What's stopping you, [Y/n]? I don't matter to you and nothing is holding you back so what's stopping you?" Katakuri repeated before standing up and turning around to leave.

"Katakuri! There's been a misunderstanding. Please, hear me out!" [Y/n] pleaded but Katakuri ignored her pleas slamming the door in her face.

"Katakuri..." [Y/n] whispered sadly.

[Y/n] felt guilty. Had she gone too far with rejecting him? But it was all too sudden for her and she didn't know what to do. She didn't know Katakuri was feeling like that.

She felt like crap. She felt like a horrible person. She didn't want to leave her crew. She had stayed with them for a long time and grew fond of them but she didn't want to leave Katakuri too. Especially, now that she knows he felt hurt and betrayed by her.

[Y/n] didn't know what was the right decision to make.

Should she stay?

[obsolescent]

Leon S. Kennedy's NSFW Alphabet

Author’s Note: Went into depth with almost all of these lol, wanted to be thorough. Enjoy!

Leon’s SFW Headcanons

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, reader is kept gender neutral, cis!Leon, general discussion of sexual activities.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Helping you clean up, cuddling. He would be very affectionate, kissing you, telling you, “You did so good baby, took everything I gave you.”

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think he enjoys his arms quite a bit, likes seeing the muscles flex as he moves them around (mostly while he’s handling you). On you, your hands, how gentle they are, how they hold him close and cup his cheeks with such a softness. Loves seeing them wrapped around his cock, too.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

He wouldn’t admit to it because he’s embarrassed by it, but loves seeing you covered cum. Loves going a few rounds, getting some in every hole and watching it leak out. Something about marking you as his satisfies a deep urge in him.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has thought about sharing you. Thinking about seeing you get passed around and used by his friends, yeah.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s not that experienced actually! Due to his religious upbringing, he didn’t do much until he was older and shook some of that religious guilt off. He knows what he’s doing, though. He watched plenty of videos on how to pleasure someone. He’s a perfectionist at most everything he does, and pleasing someone right is a priority to him.

F = Favorite position

He’s a romantic sap, so any position where he can embrace you, whisper in your ear, kiss you. Positions like missionary, or when you sit on him and he can just hug you while you grind against him. Those are ideal for him!

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, for sure. He likes to make funny quips too, like: “Damn baby, gripping my shit like Loctite!” Once, he got hurt on a mission, and after fully healing, came to you and said, “Meat’s back on the menu.”

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.)

He usually keeps it well groomed. Due to missions, though, it does grow out. Has some hair but tries to keep it short as possible. He found that out the hard way one time, when he had to use the bathroom on a mission and got some hair caught in his zipper, ouch.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Leon’s very romantic, savoring your time together, working you up slowly. Whispering praises the whole time, running his hands down your body, massaging here and there.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s had that religious guilt hanging over his head, so it’s a reason why he didn’t do it often, but when that stiff breeze hits just right…Now with you, he can just have sex so he doesn’t see the point of it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink, I think we’re in agreement on that. Free use, he likes letting you use him for your own pleasure, he gets off on it too. Has come with no touch, just from you using his mouth.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Prefers yours or his place, and it could be wherever inside. The couch, floor, counter, table, shower, and of course the bed. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) 

Honestly? It doesn’t take much, not with you. Seeing your body turn a certain way, the slightest movements, have him clearing his throat and crossing his legs. Yelling at himself in his head to “Stop acting like a damn dog.”

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurt you or use a weapon in the bedroom. He could slap your ass some, a firm grip around your neck, but that’s the extent he’s willing to go. Weapons are a hard limit, under no circumstances will he use one on you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves to give and receive. Likes seeing you on your knees for him, also likes to be on his knees for you, too. As I said before, he’s done his research and perfected his skills, it’s definitely paid off. You’ve never been with someone as skilled as him with his mouth.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.)

Slow and sensual, unless you want it fast and rough. Loves to please you, so whichever you’re wanting at the moment.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If he’s really worked up and under a time crunch, he doesn’t mind a quick fuck, making sure to get you off first, though, before himself.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.)

Leon loves to try new things! Want to use a new toy you got? New position you saw online? He’s game, but I wouldn’t say risky. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

A few rounds, he doesn’t tire easily. He can last for a while. He likes to cum with you, so he can hold off on cumming until you do.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He hadn’t thought about getting toys for himself until he was with you. With how much fun you two have with toys, he has looked into getting some of his own. Uses them on you or himself, and he likes when you use them on him. 

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Oh, sometimes he’s a menace. Can edge you for a long time, have you writhing and begging for him. He likes seeing you whiny, pleading with him to touch you more, “I know you want to touch me, please please baby, make me cum!” You know him so well. He finally gives in, not being able to hold himself back any longer.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Used to be quiet as a mouse, but now? Loud, whiny mess. Groaning and moaning your name, high pitch whines when it just feels “so goddamn good baby, don’t stop riding me.”

W = Wild card (A random headcanon for the character)

He’s pretty flexible, which is useful in the bedroom. “Fold me like a pretzel,” His favorite choice of words for when you’re doing something to him.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s fit due to the job, toned muscles, body littered with scars. He’s got a light dusting of hair on his chest, as well as a happy trail down to neatly trimmed pubic hair. He’s a grower, not a shower, at full hardness he’s around 7 inches, a bit on the thicker side.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Due to the stressful situations he’s usually in he doesn’t have much time to yearn or think about his sex drive, but when he’s home with you, anything you do can have him ready to go. Mentioned previously, it can be mundane as stretching, your shirt lifting to expose your stomach, and he starts growing hard.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He won’t fall asleep until things are cleaned up, toys put away, and he’s holding you in his arms. 

[snek-of-eden]

How TOS characters would react if you asked them for a hug (platonic)

this is based on that time i asked all of my teachers and basically everyone who i knew for a hug and compiled all the data into a best hugger spreadsheet. yea i’m neurodivergent and touchstarved why do you ask

“can i have a hug please?”

Kirk:

he would definitely ask you if you were okay

If he knows you he gives amazing hugs, absolutely fantastic. If he doesn’t really know you, you might get a quick, well-meaning one-arm hug

“sure thing, come here <3”

chub is good for cuddles

it’s kinda intimidating to ask for hugs from him, especially when he’s on shift

you feel a bit honoured that he actually said yes to your request

he always does a quick little squeeze at the end before he lets go

his hugs aren’t super tight though

the kind of hug that makes you both smile

wouldn’t rank super high on a “best hugger” list but that’s not his fault, he’s trying to run a ship here and he can’t get too attached to people

you probably wouldn’t get a repeat hug unless you really needed one or you knew him well

he smells like shampoo!

Spock:

he’d definitely raise an eyebrow

it looks like he’s considering saying no but on reality he’d never refuse unless the circumstances were dire

“of course, officer. is something wrong?”

he’s not an enthusiastic hugger but he’s really really good at long hugs

like not-letting-go-until-your-heart-rate-is-steady kind of long hugs

not super tight, not super loose. very medium strength hugs

he would clasp his hands together behind your back so he doesn’t have to touch your skin with his fingertips

if it’s a calm hug he might continue talking about ship duties while he holds you

if you’re freaking out he’s quiet enough that you can hear his heartbeat, which is surprisingly calming

he smells like lavender

he’ll hold on until you’re ready to let go

when you do let go, neither of you will talk about it again but it’s never awkward

he doesn’t offer up hugs if he sees you again, but you know he’d accept one no question if you asked

Bones:

he might not register what you’re asking for a second, because it’s not a request he gets very often

grumbling under his breath about not having time for this, but in reality he’s over the moon

“get over here, sweetheart”

king of platonic pet names. he knows well enough that this is notttt romantic

he smells like antiseptic and pear soap

his hugs are tight as hell, enough that you might have to remind him that he’s not trying to break your ribs

swaying hugs are his thing

while he holds you he’d definitely ask if anything’s up, or if this is a just-because-hug

would complain that this is why he doesn’t get close to patients, while simultaneously rubbing your back happily

once you get past the intimidating facade he’s a softie and pretty easy to ask for hugs

only in private though. never in public

if you do something great in the future he might hold out his arms for a hug randomly

Scotty:

he’s honestly miffed you haven’t asked him for a hug before

absolutely lights up at the question, clumsily putting down anything he’s holding and putting his arms out wide

“tha’s a good kid, c’mere”

he smells like engine oil and grease and something slightly singed. in a good way

surprisingly soft. he’s gentle and squeezy and keeps patting you on the back

he might lift you off your feet for a couple of seconds before putting you back down

very laughter-filled hugs

if youre upset he might try and tickle you a little

after asking, of course

he wouldn’t do long hugs, but he’d be regretful about it. as it is he’s probably neglecting some jefferies tube that’s about to malfunction or burst into flames

after that you’re not getting hugs when he’s busy, but if he’s got time and he sees you in the hall he’d call out “where’s my hug, lad?” (gender neutral) and follow through on it

he’s the one asking for hugs, and even though they’re short they’re very good natured

Uhura:

perhaps the least intimidating person on the Enterprise to ask for a hug. if you were asking all of the crew, you’d do her first because she gives off comfortable vibes

she would repeat your question back to you - “can you have a hug? of course you can!”

the first one to initiate the hug

no swaying whatsoever. she’s like a steady rock, and her hold is the perfect tightness

this is the best hug you’ve ever had

you are going to remember this hug for at least two years

you’re legitimately planning on calling your parent and telling them all about this hug, it’s just that good

she smells like perfume and freshly brewed herbal tea

while you’re hugging, she would definitely go “awwww” or make some sort of sweet little positive comment

you both let go at the same time. it feels like you never want to step away

she tells you that you guys can do hugs all the time if you want, and you get the feeling she really means it genuinely

whenever you see her she’ll hold out her arms for a hug no matter what, even if she’s talking to someone she’ll hold them out knowing you’ll come

[whorbidmore]

okay, so, I've fallen victim to the leon kennedy brainrot steadily overtaking me, following me from Tumblr to Pinterest, to Instagram and even the absolutely fucking dreaded application of TikTok. I don't even use it that often??? and the algorithm is just like 'wow, yeah, this little fuckers gay as hell send in the 40 year old meow meow!!' and having watched Death Island fairly recently, I'm gonna have my opinions on what this dude would be like. Cus my brain loves to rationalize shit and think ab 'what if this mf was someone real?' so... fuck it.

Leon Soft Kennedy Headcanons

SFW

accidentally bigoted. - im sorry but let's be so fucking real here. he's a 40 something year old man who spent the majority of his life in either the military, a police training academy in the 90's, or otherwise working under the U.S Federal System with minimal/no time between missions to unpack absolutely everything he's got going on... the guys gonna have some problematic tendencies. Obviously that doesn't mean he means any of that or is incapable of change, etc. etc., but I know for damn certain this dude would laugh a little at Bill Burr's borderline to blatantly misogynistic material and has probably chuckled unironically at the attack helicopter jokes. But, he's not a complete dick, and would definitely become more critical of those kinds of jokes if it's pointed out to him.

honest to God, Dad Without Kids™ - it's not simply enough for me to leave it at 'but it's the vibes!!' so, I'm gonna break this shit down. Leon is absolutely Gen X incarnate. I can fucking guarantee you that on his off days he accidentally ends up dressing as an undercover cop; I'm talking cargo shorts, light blue button up, those fucking standard issue boots cus "they're perfectly good shoes" and those stupid ass sunglasses... you know the ones I'm talking about. Let's say you're living with him, right? And you're... you, and you wanna watch something on TV. This dude would strain himself getting up like a turtle fallen backwards on its shell, stand up, walk right in front of the TV screen and stand there with his hands on his hips. It doesn't matter that he had to piss, he needs to get a better look of what's happening! Does those really loud, obnoxious coughs and sneezes, absolutely blows his back out doing one at least five times a year.

Only watches British Reality TV - Considering he's canonically a film buff, I'll say that this is purely for whatever he gravitates towards on general streaming services. I honestly don't see him being the type to regularly tune in to standard American cable TV, or only does so under specific circumstances like American Ninja Warrior or maybe Forged in Fire if there's absolutely nothing else. It's not something that's exclusive to Americans, — I'm from New Zealand and I do this too, — but Leon absolutely falls into the category of watching British Reality and Game shows purely because of the accents. I'm talking Jeremy Kyle, The Big Fat Quiz of Everything, Taskmaster, The Great British Bake Off and so on and so forth. It doesn't matter that baking isn't his forté or a passion of his, if Josephine curdles her buttercream by over mixing, his hands are in his hair in utter disappointment. 100% tries to mimic their accents too. We all do it, don't lie.

Has... very dated music tastes - I don't know if you could guess, but the last paragraph included me calling myself out and name dropping some shows I watch anyway or grew up watching, and I'm just saying that this is gonna be no different. If anything? This'll be worse! Since I'm very passionate about the music I listen to and have the inability to keep my interests separated from the other, of course my love of particular bands will bleed over into my interpretation of Leon's character! Anyway, all that for me to say that Leon fucking LOVES 90's grunge musicians, specifically Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, as well as early nu metal bands like Korn (their dubstep phase did not happen.), TOOL, and Rage Against the Machine — and no, he unfortunately doesn't see the irony of him being a fed and listening to Rage, — but would also have a soft spot for psych rock, post-punk and shoegaze. My man's definitely laid awake at night, sobbing without expression as he struggles to accept that Ada never really wanted him like he wanted her while listening to fucking Slowdive. My hottest take here is that he doesn't really listen to Deftones. Like he'll occasionally blast My Own Summer, Change, Bored or Rosemary, but anything outside of those? He just didn't listen to 'em. My second hottest take is that he does NOT like Slipknot, which kind of pains me 'cus I do, but I fucking bet you this dude would actually adopt one piece of "Gen Z lingo" or whatever just call them cringe. Though admittedly he would've been jamming the fuck out to Psychosocial and The Devil in I when they came out. Went off the deep end in Vendetta, obviously, and drunk-cried himself to sleep on the couch listening to Linkin Park.

Very confusing spending habits - On one hand, we all understand that Leon came from money, — he was implied to have been born into a mob family from my understanding? And I doubt he'd ever really had to worry about being fully, irrevocably broke, — but I'm sure that growing up in the U.S Foster Care System made him at least a little more cautious of where his money comes from, where it's going, what he's spending it on, etc. So, on the one hand, he's apprehensive to spend recklessly, particularly on perishables. But also, if he can drop over $100,000USD on a motorcycle that got absolutely fucking cheese grated into the road, and spend a perceived, metric fuck ton of money on designer leather jackets and massive watches, it's gonna be hard for me to call him 'financially conscious'. On one hand, he gets apprehensive on spending more money than he needs to on food since he's "just gonna shit it out later", but if he sees a cool watch or a nice suit in a shop window? Money's suddenly not an issue! Not because he's materialistic, but because the one thing he really maintains a sense of control over in his life are his possessions and the way he dresses. The D.S.O can call him in for another months long mission whenever they please, and all he can realistically do is allow the government to tug on his leash and put him where he's needed. He may as well spend their money on things he wants!

Gets out... enough? But also, not really? - So, personally I've pegged Leon as more of an introverted person, — amateurly typed his MBTI as possibly ISFJ? — so he doesn't really feel the need to go out and meet new people or really hang out with anyone. If somebody invites him out? Sure, he'll go. Otherwise, it rarely occurs to him to meet up with friends or colleagues at a cafe or anywhere. I think he'd prefer to just go there alone, mostly for the sake of having somebody else cook for him as opposed to actively seeking out the atmosphere. It's pure convience in his mind. And remember when I said in the beginning about him accidentally being at least a little misogynistic? Yeah, that was me trying to say that he regularly tries to hit on younger waitresses. Not because he actually wants anything to do with them, but simply because it's an ego boost. He likes that he can make girls half his age blush or offer him their numbers, because it tells him that he's still desirable, and ultimately, that gives him the power to reject them politely and go about the rest of his day. If they don't reject him first, of course. Admittedly, Leon's audacity towards women peaked during Infinite Darkness.

Since I'm planning on posting more NSFW headcanons for this guy, — and more NSFW kinds of posts, — here is the obligatory Minors DNI attachment. For your own safety, I don't care if what I have to say is tame so far, you can hold it off I promise.

[twistedminutia]

Which Housewarden Has the Most Practical Signature Spell?

This question was triggered by my thinking about the signature spells the housewardens have are… not always super useful under most circumstances. As this post will be covering all housewarden signature spells, there will be spoilers for Book 7 parts only available in JP.

Riddle Rosehearts. Signature spell: Off with your head. Creates a collar around the neck of the target(s) which prevents them from using magic.

It was Riddle’s signature spell that got me thinking about this in the first place, honestly. Mostly because his spell seems very practical on its face. He’s actually the housewarden who seems to use his signature spell the most, after Azul, which would make it very practical. Right?

Except his spell is only practical at all because of two specific circumstances. One, he is in a position of authority and able to deal out punishment to rule breakers, and two, he is in a location with a lot of magic users. In Twisted Wonderland, humans who use magic are much less common than humans who do not use magic. Outside of NRC, Riddle’s spell isn’t going to have much more use than a fancy collar about 90% of the time.

In summary, Riddle’s spell appears practical, but only because he’s in the perfect circumstances for it. If he was in different circumstances, it would be much less useful. 5/10

Leona Kingscholar. Signature spell: King’s Roar. Causes anything of Leona’s choosing within a certain radius to crumble into sand.

This is, again, a spell that is only practical under certain circumstances. It’s definitely a powerful spell, but you’re not exactly going to be whipping it out every single day, unless you’re a glassmaker (and even then, you need specific sand to make glass and we don’t know what kind of sand Leona makes).

That being said, it’s not like the spell has no practical uses. It’s an extremely powerful offensive spell and it means people would certainly be cautious about approaching Leona in a combat situation. He’s a prince as well, so we need to consider that he’s more likely to get targeted for political reasons. A powerful spell like his would be a deterrent and a means of protecting himself and defending others.

All in all, it’s another powerful spell, but it’s hardly one you’re going to get much use out of under normal circumstances. 4/10.

Azul Ashengrotto. Signature spell: It’s A Deal. By signing a scroll, Azul can take any power he chooses as part of a contract. If the terms are broken, the contracted party will have to obey Azul.

Okay, so this one’s a weird one. It’s been stated before in canon (I believe Jade and Floyd touch on this right around Azul’s overblot) that Azul does not HAVE to make a contract in order to take a power. He can just do it (he was using his signature spell when he overblotted, for example, without needing the contract). However, this is difficult to control (since he just sucks out ALL a target’s abilities instead of one) and it skirts along the lines of forbidden magic, so he uses the contracts.

Obviously, this limits practicality. To gain the power, he needs to get the target to agree to the contract and he needs to fulfill whatever his end of the bargain is. However, Azul is cunning and good at hiding his motivations to get what he truly wants. He can’t get people who don’t agree, but he can leverage people to get them to do so.

In general? This is the most practical spell we’ve seen so far. It’s got wide applicability (it seems to be implied in his backstory that he’s not limited to taking magic) and it’s something that can be used every day, even making it part of your job (which he does)! 9/10, subtracting a point for the inconvenience of the contracts.

Kalim Al-Asim. (What, were you expecting Jamil? Read the top again- it’s housewardens, not overblotters!) Signature Spell: Oasis Maker. Using only a small amount of magic, Kalim can create a downpour.

This is one of the spells that got me thinking about how practical some spells are, because this spell is discussed as impractical in story. Kalim states that the spell is mostly useless in a time of irrigation and running water. It’s good for some water fun, but not a super useful spell. In some ways, this could be seen as a reflection of Kalim himself, or maybe even how he sees himself: fun and flashy, but not really useful.

This makes it more interesting when, later in the chapter, Azul notes that the spell is incredibly useful in a different context! Go to a land without water and suddenly Kalim is a king. That’s why he’s wealthy in the first place- being able to create water made his family important. And it could be another commentary on Kalim- he’s really only fun and flashy in this setting, but he’s also more capable of being beneficial to those around him than he realizes.

So. Is Kalim’s spell practical? Well, yes and no. Azul’s right in that it’s more practical than Kalim was thinking, but that practicality is context specific. But being able to make clean water no matter what is useful in a lot of survival situations, and could help a lot of people, so… 4/10. Practical under the right circumstances.

Vil Schoenheit. Signature spell: Fairest One of All. Vil is able to curse any item with any condition he chooses.

So, uh. Does anyone else think this is like. Ridiculously overpowered? Might as well just give him the ‘do whatever you want all the time’ spell because that’s basically what this is. He has, in canon, paralyzed people with food, almost put someone into a cursed sleep with food, created acid, and paralyzed someone by getting them to touch lakewater. What. The. Hell. Are there limits on this spell? Is Vil perpetually one mental breakdown away from creating ‘you obey everything I say now’ water and dumping it over a crowd????

Okay. Rambling aside. This is a ridiculously practical spell. Clearly there are limits (I would imagine he can only affect so many people/things or hold it for so long before he can’t keep it up anymore) but it’s pretty damn strong. 10/10.

Idia Shroud. Signature Spell: Gate to the Underworld. Idia can open the gate to the Underworld in the S.T.Y.X. headquarters.

I feel bad but... It's not the world's most practical spell, is it? It's cool, and clearly necessary, don't get me wrong, but like. How often does this come up in day-to-day living? It might be practical for his job, I guess, but it doesn't seem to be useful in most circumstances.

I obviously can't rate this one very highly. Sorry, Idia. One point for its usefulness to his job. 1/10.

BOOK 7 SPOILERS

Malleus Draconia. Signature Spell: Fae Maleficence. Allows him to put people into ageless sleep while surrounding the area with a wall of briars and thorns.

This one's a harder spell to categorize, because we know what the spell has done so far, but we don't know it that's all it can do. I may be wrong on this, because I've only read the portions of the chapter that have come out in English, but it's not confirmed that this is the only thing his spell can do- like it's never been stated 'Malleus' spell puts people to sleep always.' It could be that this is the extent of his spell, but it could also be more like Vil's spell. If we'd only read Book 5 and he hadn't explained it, we could have assumed that Vil's spell could only be used on food. But it's actually much broader. I'm saying this because I don't want to rule out that Malleus' spell might be even more powerful or flexible than shown.

That being said, I can only judge on what I have. And what I have now is the ageless sleep bit. It's certainly not the most practical spell ever, though it could have its uses. As a defensive spell, it seems pretty good. You could trap an army with it, or create a protective barrier for your people until danger has passed. Still, I don't think this is a spell Malleus could use every day.

It's primarily for defensive purposes, so same as Leona's. 4/10.

[ploppythespaceship]

Uglies - Movie Thoughts

On a whim, I decided to start re-reading the Uglies series a couple months ago -- so imagine my surprise when I found out it was getting a movie! Said movie is now out, and it was interesting to watch with the book being so fresh in my head.

Overall, it's... eh. It's not a complete train wreck, the way most critics seem to want you to think, but it is fairly bland and uninspired. It's a very watered down version of the book. It also has the misfortune of feeling like yet another a Hunger Games wannabe, despite the original book pre-dating that series by several years.

Spoilers for everything under the cut.

What I Liked

Based on reviews, I seem to be in the minority here, but I thought the cast was pretty good. People seem to hate Joey King as Tally, but I thought she was fine. Brianne Tju is easily the best in the cast, stealing the whole damn movie as Shay. Laverne Cox also gives an excellent performance as Cable, though I do think she should not have been given that role for other reasons (which I'll get into later).

I've also seen complaints that the characters aren't ugly enough. They talk about how ugly they are and point out their specific ugly features, when they don't actually appear that ugly. And I think everyone complaining about that is completely missing the point. The "Uglies" aren't actually ugly -- they're just normal people, who've been conditioned to think their imperfect features are hideous.

I was honestly unsure how the Pretties would be visualized -- in fact, I wondered if the book would just be fundamentally unadaptable because of it -- but they did a fairly good job. I think leaning on CGI and unnatural affectations was the right way to go. All the Pretties have this uncanny quality to them that suits the story perfectly.

The overall production design was solid as well. I like how Uglyville is all gray concrete and muted tones, while New Pretty Town is shimmering golds. Then upon reaching the Smoke, all the colors of nature finally come through. I do think that could have pushed that last one a little bit more, but it still works well.

Apart from that, I don't really have much to shout out. It's competently written, well-performed, well put together. I know it doesn't sound like I have much praise, but it is a competent movie.

What I'm Mixed On

By far the biggest change from the book is Peris becoming a Special. And I'm torn on it. On the one hand, it does make him a bigger part of the story -- he's honestly not much more than an inciting incident in the book. It gives him and Tally a unique arc that's probably the strongest through-line in the story. On the other hand, the Specials as a concept are so under-cooked (more on that later) and the actor is so bland that it still doesn't quite land the way it's supposed to.

What I Didn't Like

The pacing of this movie is by far its worst issue. We are flying through this plot. There is no time for anything to breathe, for characters to develop meaningful connections, for the bigger moments to feel earned. Some things do make sense to condense -- Tally's journey to the Smoke would have been incredibly boring without her internal monologue, so condensing most of that into a montage makes sense. But I do feel we lost too much. That's where a lot of Tally's characterization comes out, where we can see her bravery and ingenuity -- none of that comes across in the movie.

A lot of important beats are rushed. Tally agreeing to help Dr. Cable is over in a flash. It feels like Tally's in the Smoke for all of fifteen minutes. Tally and David barely interact, so their relationship has no real stake. Everyone is kidnapped by Special Circumstances, and then rescued immediately after. I almost think a 5-6 episode mini-series would have worked better -- but that might have introduced the opposite problem, where everything takes too long.

The movie also has frequent montages that don't really work. It seems like they were trying to show the passage of time, but it just makes everything feel even shorter.

The beginning of the movie has an exposition problem, as well. It opens with a montage explaining the entire setting... before leading into several scenes that also explain the setting through dialogue. We get fed the same details about the surgery and the Rusties and the flowers at least three times at the start, and it gets grating.

As already mentioned, Tally is pretty severely underwritten. In the book, she has a distinct personality and a unique presence. In the movie, she's just the main character because she happens to be the main character. Her intelligence and resourcefulness are pretty much gone.

I also think changing her motivation for going to the Smoke did her a disservice. In the book, Tally goes to the Smoke so she can have her surgery, and because she's convinced herself that Shay needs her help. In the movie, Dr. Cable tells her that the Smokies have a weapon, and she will be saving lives by helping to find them. I think giving her a more selfless motivation robs her of her character arc. She always comes across as someone trying to help, who wants to best for other people, rather than someone who had to consciously learn that.

The Specials are barely even a presence. I'm not sure they were even directly called Specials. People who hadn't read the book would never realize that there was an entire separate status of person here. You never see their disturbingly beautiful faces or their terrifying strength. Considering how pivotal the Specials are to the overall story, especially in the later books, it's really odd not to see them properly established here.

Like I said, Laverne Cox gives an excellent performance as Dr. Cable... but I think they should have thought twice before casting a trans woman. It's not necessarily that there's a trans woman in the villainous role, but that there's a trans woman in the villainous role who specifically wants to force people to have surgeries to brainwash them. Like... did the optics of that really not occur to anyone? At all? I think Cox could have played David's mother, instead.

[604to647]

Strawberry Shortcake (part 2 of 2)

13.4K / Frankie Morales x fem!reader

Summary: How are you supposed to avoid Frankie when your son and his daughter are becoming best friends?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Angssssst and mutual pining. Single parenthood, mention of the death of a spouse, divorce (no detail). Mention of f!masturbation, slow burn, nicknames (Shortcake, baby, hermosa), minor appearance by TF boys. Everyone is a dummy. Wee bit of spice for these dummies at the end (no spoilers but let’s just say Frankie may be a dad, but he's also daddy).

A/N: Uhhhh sorry for the word count 🫣 Thank you so much for the lovely reception to Part 1 🥹🍓🍰The feel of this part is very different than the first; due to the setting of Part 1, it was a lot more sensual. This part is more domestic, almost a friends-to-lovers slow burn - I hope people who liked the first part will still find it enjoyable 🫣 Unfortunately, Frankie does not get 🍴😺 in this part (spoiler) which is honestly just a darn shame, so I wrote an Epilogue that I will post together with Part 2, which is a bit more of mixed vibe of the two previous parts. Thank you for reading!

Part 1 / Epilogue / Series Masterlist 🍓🍰

Strawberry dividers by @saradika-graphics 😘🍓

It could be two seconds.  Possibly a whole minute.  Maybe even ten.

You honestly can’t tell how long you and Francisco stand outside the kindergarten class room staring at each other.

At a loss for words, you don’t even know how to begin a conversation that you couldn’t have imagined ever having.  You never thought you’d see Francisco again, and certainly not under these circumstances – that he has a daughter is entirely news to you, though not unfair.  Afterall, he didn’t know you have a son.  During your time together, you had omitted certain personal details out of self preservation and it would seem, so did he. 

After you had left the club, Francisco remained an ever-present figure in your fantasies: your handsome and courteous gentle giant who made you feel safe and desired, and whose touch you only knew once – a first and last kiss that still makes your body strum just to recall.  His soft looks and soulful expressions dominated your nighttime dreams and sometimes even your daytime ones.  He wasn’t supposed to come to life. 

And yet, here he is, standing in front of you looking even more striking than you remember.  Your memories failed to capture the way his brown eyes fleck with gold, or the way the facial scruff you loved running your fingers through is adorably patchy in that one spot along his left jawline.  His hair is slightly longer than you remember, but the curls that peek out from beneath his familiar Standard Oil cap look to be just as touchable as the ones you’d twist around your fingers in that private room at the club.

Your fingers itch as if recalling some latent muscle memory, but it’s Francisco who moves first.

Stepping forward, he approaches you with his hand out to shake yours, “Hi, I’m Frankie. Valentina’s dad.”

Oh.

That’s what you’re doing.  You’re pretending you’ve never met before.

Your heart constricts painfully in your chest as you reciprocate his gesture and introduce yourself as your son’s mother.  Francisco’s smile at your name is kind, but you see nothing more to it behind his eyes. 

It’s not lost on you that this is the first time Francisco has reached out and touched you of his own volition.  Unless you counted that soft kiss you had felt on your back after he helped you redress on your last night together; in this moment, you think you must have imagined it – perhaps it would be best not to count it at all.

Frankie’s warm, firm hand lets go of your softer one as quickly as he had grasped it, darting past you to shake the hands of the other parents standing in the same hallway.  You turn and smile, introducing yourself as well, and for the next several minutes your small group of parents makes small talk about your children and continue to sneak peeks into the kindergarten classroom until the teacher comes to close the door with a reassuring smile.

Once the remaining parents have said their polite goodbyes, you turn to look for Francisco but find that he’s already left the building.  You see his retreating figure halfway down the path to the parents’ parking lot, walking hurriedly.

He can’t get away from you fast enough, you realize, devastated.

You manage to hold your tears in until you park outside of work.  Sitting in your car, you sob stupidly.  You had thought of Francisco every day since you left The Midnight Palace.  Wondered if he had been hurt when he had come back and found out you had left.  Thought about what he might be doing and if work at the hangar was less stressful these days.  Fantasized about where your relationship might be if you had met and dated like regular people.  Heard his soft voice in your head while in bed, guiding your hand between your legs and bringing you to a thundering climax to images of his handsome face, playful smirk and lustful gaze.  But never in your wildest imagination did you think he would pretend not to know you.

The rest of your work day is filled with free floating thoughts about Francisco popping up to distract you from your work - all depressing.

Could he be married?  You suppose you had never asked, just assumed he wasn’t from the lack of ring.  With some distress, you allow that you didn’t know he had a child - a hidden wife wouldn’t be too farfetched.

Suddenly ashamed, you realized that while there had definitely been some kind of connection, due to the nature of how you met, every physical advance had been made by you.  You were the one who had pushed forward your physical relationship, taking every next step that he had never asked for. 

No.  You can’t bring yourself to believe it.  The Francisco you had met didn’t seem like the type to cheat – he had been honourable, respectful, kind.  But then again, it’s possible you didn’t know him at all, you concede sadly.

Maybe his reaction this morning’s reaction had been due to shock.  You had felt it as well, and you suppose everyone processes the unexpected differently.  Perhaps after school you’ll get a chance to speak with Francisco, or rather Frankie, and the two of you can figure this out together.

But pick-up goes much the same as drop-off.  You see Frankie among the other parents waiting in the hall, amiably chatting, and though he acknowledges you with a small nod when he sees you join the conversation, he otherwise ignores you.  You’re grateful for when the bell rings, not sure how much longer you can maintain a neutral expression and keep the tears prickling the corners of your eyes at bay.

The children stream out of the room in a sudden burst of activity, each ramming themselves into a waiting parent, excitedly chatting about their day.  Your full attention happily turns to Raynor, and you don’t even realize that Frankie has left until you see him drive by on the way to your car, Valentina’s smiling face pressed up against the back window waving wildly to your son.

And it’s the same every day after: simple salutations and impersonal small talk at drop-off and pick-up.  More often than not, Frankie barely looks at you - he’s never rude or unkind, but disappointingly detached and uninterested.  It’s as if those summer nights in that private room never happened, or worse, they did but didn’t mean to him what they had meant to you.  It becomes painfully clear to you that they didn’t.

Some time during the third week of school, an epiphany hits you like a ton of bricks: he’s embarrassed.  Maybe even ashamed.  And while you don’t think it’s warranted, you can empathize.  Maybe he’s embarrassed to have seen the mother of his daughter’s friend half naked.  Or maybe he’s embarrassed that someone outside his army buddies knows how often he frequents a strip club.  As far as you could tell, he had been candid and honest with what he did choose to share with you in that room, and perhaps he hadn’t expected those raw and vulnerable feelings to be known by someone he would see nearly every day.  Maybe he was just embarrassed by it all, you.  It crushes you that what are cherished memories for you would cause Frankie any distress, but you’re not so unfeeling that you would want to force him to feel any more discomfort than he already does.

So, you don’t push and you don’t engage; you let Frankie ignore you and even though your heart is broken, you can’t find it within you to harbour any malice towards this man who was once the source of so much comfort and desire.

This works as well as it can until Raynor starts asking if he can have a playdate with Valentina.

“Just call her.”

Completely useless advice.  His friends are full of absolute nonsense suggestions.

Frankie has no idea what to do.  You’re slipping away again and he has no clue how to coax you back to him.  And neither do Santi, Will or Benny, apparently.

Every recommendation they make is predicated on Frankie having not made a total ass of himself since the start of school.  So absolutely useless.  Frankie presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and groans in frustration.  You’re an idiot, Morales.

On that first day of school, he had been so preoccupied with comforting Valentina that he hadn’t noticed you until you turned around in that hallway.  It was you – in a much more covered up state of dress, hair and face softer in the light of day that he had been used to, but it was you.

A million emotions race through his very soul the second he recognizes your face: shock, disbelief, relief, desire being the most prominent.  Frankie’s immediate instinct is to pull you into his arms and cup your pretty face in his hands – to trace every slope and line with his fingers (and maybe his lips) to make sure you were real.

Fuck.  He had missed you so much. 

Returning to The Midnight Palace two weeks after that unforgettable kiss, Frankie had been confused, then worried when you weren’t there.   He knew you were planning on going back to your lab assistant job at the end of the summer, but that wasn’t supposed to be for a few more weeks.  Your unexpected absence left him hallow and worried, realizing that he actually knew very little about your life – something could have happened to you and he would never know.  He had sat stage side with the boys, fidgeting and anxious the whole night; eyes darting to the employee entrance every time there was movement - thinking, hoping you might walk in and flash him that drop-dead gorgeous smile of yours that he took comfort in every day.

But you never showed.

And two weeks later you still weren’t there.  After Frankie had sulked for hours, terrifying the new cocktail waitress with his scowl, Will had taken pity on him and asked Sasha, the dancer from whom you borrowed the strawberry scented glitter gel that he loved so much, and that’s when he finally learned that you had left three weeks ago. 

Frankie was despondent.  He hadn’t felt the way he felt about you in a really long time and he had harboured secret hopes that the two of you might try take what you shared in the private room out of the club, into the real world.  After one too many pep talks from his friends, he finally worked up the courage to ask you out only to discover you gone for good, leaving him no way to find you.  The boys tried to cheer him up by offering to buy him a lap dance, but Frankie had refused – he didn’t want it.  He wanted you.  He had cut the night short and hadn’t joined his friends at The Midnight Palace since; he didn’t need your absence thrown in his face on a regular basis.

He dreams of you constantly.  Hazy, dimly lit dreams illuminated by that smile he can’t forget; flashes of soft curves and barely-there wisps of fabric that laid snug overtop.  Your lithe fingers dance into his mind’s eye until his sensory memory kicks in and his skin prickles while he sleeps, remembering how it felt when you would touch him – silky soft caresses along the worn lines of his face, lips, hands that always made him long for more of you.   He wakes up hard and missing you more than when he went to sleep, deflating when he remembers that he’ll never feel your touch again.

Now here you are and it’s not a dream.  You’re here.  Close enough to touch.

But just as Frankie is about to reach for you, two things happen simultaneously.  The first is he realizes the two of you aren’t alone and that a few other kindergarten parents stand behind you.  He suspects that you might not want to share your reunion with strangers or field any potential questions about how the two of you might know each other.

The second is that he’s hit with a wave of crippling doubt.  What if you weren’t happy to see him?  Maybe you hadn’t thought and dreamt of him every day since that last, incredible encounter together like he did you.  Afterall, you hadn’t left him a note or any way to contact you; perhaps you had put him out of your mind and left him behind as a memory of the summer, much like you did the club.

So, at the very last second Frankie pivots and shakes your hand, introducing himself then immediately does the same with the other parents, not wanting to single you out in front of them.

The look of hurt on your face flashes for only a millisecond, but Frankie sees it.  He immediately regrets his actions, but as the subsequent minutes tick by, filled with inconsequential small talk among the parent group, he can’t think of a way to recover and like a coward, he runs.

Frankie meant to start over with you at pick-up, but once more the two of you aren’t alone so he again opts for a polite interaction over an overly familiar one.  And then his priority is Valentina, as yours was your son, and the chance to reconnect once again slips through his fingers.

It’s same the next day and the next, and the following week and the one after that, until it’s been so long and the list of things left unsaid between the two of you grows overwhelming, that even if you had missed him and wanted to rekindle something, you most certainly didn’t anymore.  Maybe you even hated him a little.

So, Frankie resigns himself to having what he can of you without crossing any lines, just like it was for him back at the club.  He steals glances at you at school when you’re not looking and catches up on your life based on what he overhears you sharing with other parents or when he’s lucky enough to be part of the group you’re addressing.  The more he learns about you, the more he admires you – you make juggling parenthood and an impressive career look easy.  You were still the sweet and gentle creature he had fallen for over the summer, but now he knows you to be whip smart and a wonderful mom.  He didn’t think you could be any sexier or more beautiful than how he remembered you, but he’s happily proven wrong day after day. 

And you still smell like strawberries. 

Sometimes it takes all of Frankie’s self control not pull you into his embrace and spill out his feelings right there in front of your children’s hung artwork, so he tries not to look at you too much.

His heart calls for you.  But you aren’t his to have.  Maybe you never were.

It’s possible that Frankie may have just gone on living with this ever-present dull ache in his heart, resigned to being near but so terribly far away from you, if it weren't for his darling precocious daughter who insisted on being best friends with your son. 

Fed up with her father’s evasive answers and non-committal promises of talking to you about a playdate, young Valentina Morales decides that she’s going to try her hand at those “good decisions” her teacher is always talking about.  She and her best friend Raynor whisper secretly as they exit their classroom at the end of the day, looking up in tandem when they’ve stopped right in front of you.

“Raynor’s mom?  Could Raynor and I have a playdate?” Valentina smiles sweetly.

“Oh!” they’ve surprised you but not really - Raynor has been ask for the same for the past two weeks.  Your son and his best friend look up expectantly at you, eyes full of hope and excitement – manipulative little buggers, you chuckle to yourself.  Valentina’s little smile is especially beguiling; Francisco must never be able to say no to this face. 

Francisco.  Right.  You look up to see Frankie looking at his daughter with a mortified expression – you almost laugh out loud.  Yep, it’s clear who the boss in the Morales household is.

You kneel down to get to the kids’ level, “Alright.  How about this, girly-pop?  I’m taking to Ray-ray to the aquarium this weekend and if,” you pause here for effect and reiterate again, “if your father says it’s okay, you should definitely come with us and we can get lunch, and catch the walrus show, and stick our hands in the touch pools until they tell us to stop.  What do you think?”

Valentina and your son nod their little heads eagerly.  You smile at them and then up at Frankie, the two of you exchanging soft, familiar smiles.

“What about right now?”

Your head snaps back to your son and his friend, the two of them now smiling conspiratorially.

“Mama, Valentina says her and her dad are going to the park right now.  Can we go too?”

Ohhhh… you had underestimated these two.  Completely unable to come up with an excuse on the spot, you open and close your mouth two or three times, “Well… um… I’m sure that… uh…”

Frankie saves you, “If you’re free, we’d love for you and Raynor to join us at the park.  It’s the one a few blocks from here and we were just going to walk.”

You look at Francisco, wide-eyed.  This might be the most he’s spoken to you since the start of school; this smidgen of attention shouldn’t make your heart beat the way it does, but you feel nervous and maybe even excited about spending some time with Frankie after all this time.  Dumbly, you nod.  The children cheer and high-five each other.

The walk to the park is short and easy, the children happily skipping hand in hand ahead of you and Frankie – but between the two of you, there is a vague undercurrent of tension that settles in the pit of your stomach as you walk.  This is the first time since the club that you’ve been alone with Frankie – it’s funny, in the private room you wore nothing but your underwear and never felt as exposed as you do now.

The children run straight to the playground as you and Frankie settle on a nearby bench, sitting on opposite ends with snacks for the kids laid out between you. 

Frankie opens a Tupperware container full of cut vegetables and unscrews a little container of ranch dip, sucking his fingers clean of any overspill; you can’t help but stare, practically drooling at the sight of him popping his thick, meaty fingers between his plush lips.  When Frankie catches you looking, he chuckles and you avert your eyes quickly with a smile. 

To save face, you say the first thing that comes to mind, “That’s a lot of snacks.”

The two of you share an easy laugh while Frankie offers you the container and you gladly select a few cucumber slices.

“Gotta have all the options,” explains Frankie, “Valentina changes her mind about food constantly.  Never know if this is the week she decides grapes are evil.”

“Oh, Raynor is the same way.  Some days I feel like the lunch I pack him is just performance art for the teacher.”

There’s a pause of quiet after you both chortle at the ridiculousness of your children’s eating preferences.  It’s not uncomfortable, but it is palpable.

You find yourself obliged to fill the unaddressed divide between you and Frankie; you’re almost loathed to broach this topic, but you can’t be sure this new pleasantry isn’t a one-time thing so tentatively you ask, “Does Valentina’s mom ever do drop-off or pick-up?  I work at home at night as part of my flexible hours arrangement so I can do both, but it can’t be easy as a mechanic and pilot.”

It’s the first time either of you has made even the slightest allusion to having known each other previously, and though you look nervous to have done it, Frankie finds it a relief that you broke the ice.

“Twice a month I work weekends to make up the hours, but the boss isn’t that strict – it’s Pope,” he grins, and you do too, having forgotten that his friend helped run the hangar Frankie worked at. 

“Oh my goodness!  How is he?  How are Will and Benny?” you ask amiably.

“They’re all great – I don’t see Will and Ben as much as I do Santi, but at least once a week, they come by for tea time with Valentina,” Frankie grins.

Your giggles at this image are so pure and unadulterated, Frankie feels his heart lighten just from the sound.  You seem to have forgotten the part of your original question about Valentina’s mom, but Frankie hasn’t, “… and Valentina stays every second weekend with her mom.  Friday night to Sunday afternoon… so no school stuff.”  He flits his eyes to the playground to check on the kids who are playing some type of pirate ship pretend, and mouths the word ‘Divorce’.

“Oh,” you nod, sympathetically, “I’m sorry.”  You realize this explains why Frankie would only come in to the club every second Friday.

“It’s okay,” says Frankie, matter-of-factly, “it’s better this way.  We’re both happier.  And I think that’s a good thing for Valentina.”

You nod because you vehemently agree.  From what you’ve seen of some of your friends’ marriages, divorce is hard on kids, but an unhappy household is worse.  You follow Frankie’s lead and watch the kids for a bit too before you hear him hesitantly clear his throat, “And Raynor’s dad?  He isn’t one for pick-up and drop-off?”

Eyes shiny, your tone is gentle, “Raynor’s dad passed when he was just a baby.  He never knew him.”  It’s been over five years and your grief still comes and goes, sometimes sharp, other times dull.  Sometimes Raynor will do something that reminds you so much of your late husband, you find yourself locking yourself in the bathroom and sobbing.  Other times, the resemblance will fill you with nostalgia and joy, and you’ll startle your son with your seemingly sudden burst of affection – you never really know how it will go, but you’ve learned to let it come in whatever form it chooses; just feel it and ride it out.  Today, here with Frankie, it’s a small tug to your heart that prickles just a little so that tears mist your eyes but don’t spill over.  You glance over at Frankie who’s looking at you with such a kind and loving expression that you have to turn away, afraid your naïve heart will misinterpret his look for feelings that don’t exist; you finish softly, “It was a car accident.”

Frankie feels his heart clench upon learning that you’re a widow.  He would have never guessed.  At the club, and during the limited time he’s spent with you at the school, you always seem to carry yourself with such an unflappable grace - voice gentle and laughter ready and light.  That you do so having suffered such tragedy in your life makes him admire you more than he already does; Frankie’s heart is bursting with emotion and his hands itch to pull you in for a hug.  Instead, he clenches his fists and says with as much tenderness as he can, “I’m sorry for your and Raynor’s loss.”

“Thank you,” you say softly; you don’t detect any pity in Frankie’s voice – only sympathy and compassion.  You’re grateful for him.

You wouldn’t have predicted it, but this small moment of vulnerability seems to wash away all the awkwardness and hesitancy that you and Frankie never even acknowledged.  Your conversation flows easily afterwards, much like it did back in that private room when you would sit in his lap and the two of you would just talk.  Talking to Frankie now is as easy as it was then - he’s as good of a listener as you remember and his own stories and comments are shared with an infectious light humour, engaging and inviting.  In fact, you end up so engrossed in the conversation, you absentmindedly eat half of Valentina’s snacks – for which Frankie teases you mercilessly.  In response, you pull secret snack bags out of your purse and he doubles over in laughter, “You’ve been holding out on me!”

When the kids have had their fill of play and snack, your foursome starts on the walk back to the cars.  During this time, you easily pull from Valentina that she prefers your snacks over her fathers; you mockingly pat Frankie on the shoulder and declare that it’s about variety.  When Valentina pointedly says to you she hasn’t forgotten about the aquarium playdate, Frankie leans over and whispers, “Now we know why she said your snacks are better,” and you giggle uncontrollably.  Frankie thinks his heart might burst out of his chest.

And that’s how your friendship with Frankie Morales begins.

He comes to aquarium on Sunday and the visit is beyond pleasant, all the more so due to the company – you and Frankie hang back while the kids walk hand and hand from exhibit to exhibit, only being called forth when they need an adult to read from info cards about the exotic marine life.  The two of you chat animatedly with no awkward pauses, the only breaks coming from gentle looks exchanged when you pause to take in the happiness and joy of your children.

You have to admit, in the darkness of the aquarium, Frankie looks exceptionally handsome – reminding you a little of how he looked in the dim lighting at the club.  The shadows cast by the watery tanks accentuate his strong jaw line and aquiline nose, making Frankie’s already striking profile all the more breathtaking.  When you unexpectedly see him through the jelly fish tank, a gasp escapes on the soft exhale of your breath at how his expressive eyes catch the light reflecting off the water; he’s really so beautiful.  You quickly look away so not to be caught in your ogling – the two of you have only begun to reconnect as friends; you don’t want things to go back to being awkward and stilted just because you can’t keep things appropriate.

The walrus and seal lion show put Raynor and Valentina in such high spirits, that you can’t bear to separate them so soon after; all agree to extend the playdate longer to a fun and lively dinner, where you and Frankie show off your crayon colouring skills on the restaurant placemats. The children declare your masterpieces to be a tie.

Your renewed ease with one another and Raynor and Valentina’s fast blooming friendship lead to more afterschool park playdates with Frankie during the week and you hosting playdates at your house on the weekends.  Every so often, Frankie’s friends will organize an activity for the kids; it might be a small cookout, some mini sports game for the kids (t-ball, soccer, touch football), or even one of those famous tea parties that Benny likes so much – but Uncle Santi, Uncle Will and Uncle Ben welcome your son with open arms and you couldn’t be more grateful. 

You don’t have any brothers, and one thing you’ve always felt a little insecure about is the lack of male figures in Raynor’s life – you don’t think it means anything’s missing, but the truth is you don’t know how what you can’t provide impacts your young son.  You’re thankful for the positive male camaraderie energy and filial love that Frankie and his friends demonstrate and shower upon your son; when you tell Frankie this, his heart shatters and soars at the same time.  He finds single fatherhood to be more challenging that he’s sometimes willing to admit, but in some ways, he chose it with open eyes – he can’t imagine what it must have been like to have Raynor’s father, your partner, ripped from you, and have to carry forth taking on both parental roles.  Frankie thinks you’re doing a more than admirable job and when he tells you so, you cry a little.  

You’ve watched Frankie as a father: he’s kind and doting, gentle and patient when he needs to be, and models for Valentina how to be selfless and considerate.  Ever aware of his own and his daughter’s limits and boundaries, he keeps her safe while encouraging her in the most energetic and supportive way in all her endeavours.  You find Valentina to be a charming, smart and forthright child, capable of a wonderful mix of compassion, sweetness and playfulness – her outgoing personality is such a welcomed compliment to your son’s sometimes more cautious nature; Raynor’s own strong confidence often tempering her impulsiveness.  She’s such a lovely friend to Raynor and you find that you love her very much.  You attribute so much of what you love about to Valentina to her fantastic father; for him to compliment your own parenting means the world.

As the months go on, the children’s ever more frequent playdates tie you and Frankie together for most days and even some nights.  Daytime play easily extends to include dinners at your respective houses, and somehow dinners start to transition into movie nights on your couch that are spent with the four of you under blankets and passing the popcorn back and forth.  On that first night of many where the kids fall asleep before the movie ends, you agree with Frankie that it would be a potential disaster to move Valentina too much when transporting her home and risk a full out melt down – you offer the guest bedroom as a much more amenable option.  A relieved Frankie sleeps on the couch. 

The next morning, the two of you wake before the children and meet in your kitchen, already bright with sunlight streaming in through the big bay window that overlooks your backyard.  You realize with an ache that Francisco does smile at you in the morning light the way he used to in the club: soft and disbelieving.  You hope he can’t hear the loud beating of your heart as you make coffee, and try to settle the racing of your heart before the two of your sit at your kitchen counter and enjoy the luxury of a warm cup of coffee in the quiet, a rare respite from needing to cater to the needs of your small children.  The quiet conversation during what becomes a regular weekend morning occurrence is always comforting and comfortable; it confirms what you’ve always known: Frankie Morales is a catch.

During these tranquil mornings, there’s always a moment when you have to catch yourself from falling into the dangerous trap of admitting just how attracted to Frankie you are.  Sometimes you do deep breathing exercises while you rinse out the coffee cups, other times, you’ll have to step away to ignore how sweet Frankie is when he draws smiley faces on the kids’ waffles with the whipped cream.  But you always have to do something.  You can’t let yourself fall for Frankie.

As your children grow closer, so naturally do you and Frankie, but neither of you ever bring up your past together at the club.  Not a word about how you met or what you shared those months in the summer, and certainly no mention of that last night where you bared your body to him and the two of you shared a kiss that still haunts your dreams.  Any time one of you alludes to something about the other that you could have only learned during your time together in the private room, you carry on without acknowledging how you might be privy to that tidbit.  It’s as if it never happened.  And while those summer months live in your memory as a time when you had felt special and desired, you accept it doesn’t hold the same sentiment for Frankie. 

Frankie.  Always Frankie.  You never ever call or think of him as Francisco.  Francisco is a man who only exists in your dreams – a fantasy who openly desired a you who was sexy, in control and mysterious.  He was kind, respectful, and made you feel gorgeous and wanted.  For your own sanity, you force yourself to separate him from Frankie.  Frankie is the father of your son’s best friend.  You’re no mystery to him: he sees you at your most frazzled, tired - when you forget it’s pizza day or when you’re so late for drop-off that you’re still tucking your shirt into your skirt while rushing Raynor down the path to school.  He’s kind and respectful as well, but about different things – he understands your struggles as a single mom and knows just how to lift your spirits and encourage you when you need it the most or lends a helping hand with the kids and household tasks before you even had to ask.  He makes your life happier, lighter. 

Francisco had been yours for a short time, and for that you remain grateful, but he wasn’t someone you would ever hold or kiss; you’d never know him like you had known him for those sweet summer months.  He was gone.

Frankie is your friend.  He’s here now and you don’t ever want to lose him.

You don’t conflate the two men because you can’t – it’s too dangerous to want something that isn’t meant for you.  So, you mourn Francisco and you cherish Frankie, always holding yourself back from loving him, except perhaps in the deepest, most secret chambers of your heart.

Raynor’s birthday party is in full swing.  You found one of those bouncy castle rental places that set-up inflatables in people’s backyards for a totally reasonable price and now your backyard is full of happy, bouncy kids having the times of their lives tumbling and scrambling through giant blow up houses and castles; there’s even a maze that ends in a massive ball pit.  There are kids from school, kids from the neighbourhood, a few of your friends and co-workers’ kids, and even some kids whose moms have moms that play mahjong with yours.  Raynor is over the moon and as far as you’re concerned, the more the merrier.

Frankie and Valentina had come over before the party started; Valentina wanting to give her best friend his present early and maybe sneak in some extra bouncy castle time.  While the kids bounced, Frankie helped you set-up tables and chairs and inquired if he could run the BBQ for you; you had protested, saying that you would be able to handle it, but Frankie insisted.  Now that the party is underway, you have to admit that between greeting all the kids and parents, supervising the bouncy castles and making sure that drinks and snacks are readily available, you would have struggled to cook lunch as well.  As a bonus, you admit, grinning to yourself, Frankie is looking pretty good at the grill.

Getting an early start on dishes before prepping the cake, you have the perfect view of Frankie through your kitchen window; turning over hotdogs with his tongs and plating cooked hamburger patties in an adorable blue apron, Frankie looks positively delicious.  His tan face brightened by his good mood and sweat from the heat of the grill dotting his rugged neck, he’s smiling a smile that reveals his elusive dimple as he takes pride and joy in his domestic responsibility. 

Maybe, you think, just maybe you can allow yourself just one moment of fantasy where the food Frankie’s currently grilling is the main course to a side salad you’re preparing in the kitchen of the house the two of you share.  And he’ll come in when the meat’s done the way he knows you like and wrap his arms around you from behind, pressing sweet, but hungry kisses to your neck before murmuring cheekily that he really could eat.  In your daydream, you squeal when he spins you around with blinding speed before sighing into the slow, tender kiss pressed to your lips. 

And perhaps your imagination might even take your make believe even further if at that exact moment you didn’t see Amanda, your mom’s mahjong friend’s daughter sauntering up to the grill flirtatiously.  The happy illusion you conjured dissolves as you watch her chat up Frankie and put her arm on his bulging bicep just before his piercing brown eyes crinkle and he throws his head back in a loud laugh at her touch.

Immediately, your eyes fill with tears and the devastating scene in front of you blurs.  Unable to stop them from spilling over, you strip off your dishwashing gloves and run to the bathroom as quickly as you can; locking the door behind you, you lean over the sink and sob.

Stupid.  Stupid.  Why are you crying?  Frankie isn’t yours. 

If anything – he’s less likely to be yours than anyone else’s; the two of you forever separated by your shared past at the club that embarrasses him so.  And yet, you can’t help wanting him, and not even Francisco, but Frankie – the considerate man who derives simple joy from helping others, whose unwavering support has made you a more lighthearted, joyful parent, and who has readily taken up the mantle of being a calm and stable presence in your son’s life.  It seems this same Frankie can also be flirty and coy, but that was for other women.  Not you. 

Stupid.  Stupid.  He doesn’t want you. 

But you still wanted him.  Gosh, you wanted him so much.  But he isn’t yours to have.

It's so dumb to cry over a boy, you tell the tear-stained you in the mirror.  You grin, imaging yourself saying that to an older Valentina one day; but even that small comfort is ripped from you as you realize with sadness that it may not be your place.  No.  Frankie will meet someone, it’s inevitable.  He’s sweet, smart, funny and kind, and stupidly gorgeous – one day, there will be a woman who captures his heart and then you’ll have to give up your friendship for fear of succumbing to a broken heart.

Wiping away your tears and cleaning up the best you can, you tell mirror you to get it together.  It’s your son’s birthday – today is about him and not your pathetic pining over his best friend’s father.  The comically accusatory look you give yourself galvanizes you enough to exit the bathroom, and you walk back to the kitchen ready to finish your chores and check in on the party.  Instead, you find the object of all your desires and the source of your current distress waiting for you in the kitchen.

---

Frankie’s sweating – the BBQ is hot and the party guests are gobbling up everything he cooks before he even has a chance to put more on the grill.  As sweltering as it is, he’s very glad to play grill master if it means one less thing for you to have to do.  He’s spent most of the party watching you juggle your multiple roles with hurried grace: mom, party host, snack fetcher, drink refiller, clean-up crew, boo-boo fixer.  When he saw you bravely dive into the ball pit to help a child find her lost shoe, he had grinned to himself so goofily he almost burned the chicken wings. He didn’t think he could be more hopelessly in love with you, but he should have known you would prove him wrong, as you often did with matters of his heart.  The only downside to being stationed at the BBQ is that he hasn’t spent any time with you today.  He thinks he saw you duck back into the house with a stack of dirty dishes – have you eaten today?  He closes up the grill and does a quick check on Valentina and Raynor before plating you some food and heading in.

He's just been standing in the kitchen wondering where you were for a few minutes when you emerge looking a bit off coloured and somewhat startled to see him.

In what has now practically become second nature, Frankie forces his body to ignore the near constant urge to reach out to you – his immediate impulse being to hold you close and stroke your face with his fingers to soothe and comfort you.  You wouldn’t want that, though. 

Instead, he shows his concern another way; holding out the plate of food in front of him, he looks at you with some tenderness, “Have you eaten, Shortcake?”

Heart racing upon hearing this long lost term of endearment, you’re too stunned speak, able only to silently shake your head in response.

Frankie knows that you’ll come up with some excuse to put your needs behind that of the party goers, so he puts the plate down on and guides you to sit before you can do so, “You have to eat.  I’ll keep an eye out on things from here.”

Admittedly, you’re starving and the food Frankie’s brought you smells mouth watering good; with a small nod of thanks, you acquiesce.  For several minutes there’s a comfortable silence while you eat and Frankie looks out the window to keep watch on the party.  Between bites, you gaze adoringly at the handsome profile of the sweet man before you - he knew you hadn’t eaten and he came to take care of you, feed you with food he cooked himself.  Your heart swells at his thoughtfulness and quietly you say, “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

Frankie looks back at you.  He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, “I didn’t think I should.  Not in front of the other parents.”

You nod, understanding, “I guess it would be rather embarrassing to have to explain.” 

Brows furrowing, Frankie looks at you for a beat before turning to face you fully, trying to keep his voice even, “I want you to know, I would never tell anyone about the club… please know, I’m not embarrassed by it and I don’t think you should be either… not saying you are, just that you don’t have any reason to be… but some people can be weird and judgemental about that kind of thing… I want you to rest assured that I won’t ever put you in a position like that.”

It’s the first time since the start of the school year that Frankie’s acknowledged how the two of you met or even mentioned the club – it never occurred to you that his avoidance of the topic was to protect you.  For the billionth time since you met him, you’re touched by the considerate nature of this man, “Thank you, Frankie.  I wasn’t worried that you would, but I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Always, Shortcake.”

The two of you exchange a soft smile, not unlike the ones you used to share back at The Midnight Palace, as if you’re each thinking back to your time together there.  Afraid of becoming too wistful, Frankie jokes lamely, “Plus, I would be outing myself as a loser who has to pay a beautiful woman to talk to me every two weeks.”

Even if he’s saying it like a joke, there’s an undercurrent of melancholy to Frankie’s tone that you don’t understand – but you try to reassure him anyways, “No, no - don’t say that, Frankie.  I could never think you’re a loser.  And it was never about the money for me – I wanted to talk to you, really.”

Lifting his cap and running his hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck, Frankie chuckles softly, “Ok, thanks… that’s good to hear.”

It strikes you that he may be looking for some similar reassurance that you won’t “out” him, the way he had assured you, “And same here.  I would never share that about you.  You’re right, you never know how people might react to that kind of thing.  I look back at the time we spend together so fondly and I’m so very appreciative of how well you treated me… I could never forgive myself if how we met somehow caused you any problems, or got in the way of anything you wanted.  So, please don’t worry about me telling anyone either.”

Your wording choice seems a bit odd to Frankie, but still, his heart perks up a little to hear you say that your memories of your time together at the club are pleasant, and he simply says, “Ok, thank you.”

You didn’t realize that having this unspoken thing between you and Frankie had been like an albatross around your neck, but suddenly you feel a lot happier and cheery.  Having finished your food, you clean up after yourself and head to the fridge, chirping, “Do you mind helping me with the cake?”

You know Frankie’s answer without even seeing him nod; this generous man has never turned down an opportunity to help you.  When you place the cake in front of him, he beams, “Oooh!  Strawberry shortcake!  My favourite.”

Smiling, you say somewhat shyly, “I remember.”  Your mind immediately travels back to sitting in Frankie’s lap, scantily clad, the very glitter gel that inspired him to tell you this fact about himself spread generously over the ample curve of your breasts.  Frankie’s mind goes straight to the same memory and his face reddens.

Practically stuttering, you try to explain, “… but that’s not why I made it!  Raynor requested the cake!”

Your flustering doing nothing but endearing you to him further, Frankie can’t help but tease, “Sure, sure.”

You swat at his arm, playfully, “He did!”

Grinning, Frankie lets you off the hook, “Okay, okay - lil’ dude has good taste in cake then.”

And though your heart is still far from healed, this is the best you’ve ever felt around Frankie, so reminiscent of how he and you would flirt and tease back when you first met, easy laughter always coming naturally to the two of you.  You smile gratefully at him and pretend not to notice when he steals two strawberries off the top of the cake while you go to get the candles.

---

“Hey, come look.”  Frankie calls to you softly from the kitchen doorway that leads to the living room.  Putting down the containers of leftover food you were trying to fit into the fridge, you wander over to be greeted by the sight of Raynor and Valentina completely passed out on the couch.

A smile comes over your face when you hear their peaceful snores and you whisper to Frankie, “Can I admit something to you?  It’s been ages since Raynor dropped his nap, but sometimes I really miss it.”

“Oh, I know.  Sometimes I want to say to Valentina that she might be willing to give up naps, but I never agreed to forgo MY nap.”  The two of you chuckle heartily. 

If it were Friday or Saturday, you would offer to let them sleep and then stay up for a late sleepover, but tomorrow is the start of the school week, “What do you say we let them sleep for… an hour?  Enough to burn off today’s sugar, but not too long to ruin bedtime?”

“Sounds good.  I can help you clean up.”

You try to protest, Frankie has already helped so much with the party today, “Oh!  Don’t feel like you need to at all!  You’ve already helped me so much today, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.  You really can just put on some TV or something.  Sit and relax, I’ll bring you a drink.”

Frankie cocks his eyebrow at you, and it takes you a minute to realize the humour in you offering to serve him a drink.

“No!  That’s not what I was… shut up!” you laugh, spinning to return to the kitchen with Frankie following, snickering.

The two of you in good moods start to do the dishes, you washing and him drying – him knowing where to put things away, having done this with you many times over the last several months.  It’s quiet and comfortable.  You hum to yourself a little, and while you seem content – the party having gone off without a hitch, Frankie can’t help but remember the sad look on your face from when he had come into the kitchen earlier to bring you food.  He could have sworn you had been crying.

“You had an okay day, Shortcake?”

You nod, “Just a little tired, maybe?  But it was so worth it.  The kids all had so much fun!”

It was just like you to put others before yourself, Frankie thinks; he finds it to be one of your sweetest traits, but wishes you would take care of yourself too.  Maybe let someone take care of you.  He tries to push down the plea from his heart that wishes he could be that someone.

He’d like to think he’s gotten rather good at reading you after all this time together and is sure that there’s something still bothering you.  While he dries the dishes, he thinks back to your conversation earlier; it had a been a long time coming and he’s glad the two of you finally ripped the band aid off the one topic you never seemed to talk about.  He didn’t know how heavily your opinion of the time you shared in the private room mattered to him until he heard you say that you looked back upon it fondly.  Upon him fondly.  That you hadn’t thought him a total creep.  He had felt a weight lifted off him immediately, and in truth, a little hope started to burrow into his heart that maybe that time had meant something to you the way it did him.  He suddenly recalls something you said that he remembers puzzling over, but hadn’t asked you about at the time.

“What did you mean earlier when you said you didn’t want how we met to ‘get in the way’?  Get in the way of what?  You said something I wanted.”

“Oh,” you look down, embarrassed at the tears that are starting to form at just the thought of Frankie dating, “I just meant… like you said, sometimes people get weird and judgmental about strip clubs… and if you were interested in someone… like that girl, Amanda?  I wouldn’t… I mean…”  You’re tripping over your words.  The last thing you want to talk about is Frankie being interested in someone else, the whole concept feels like a vice around your heart.  “… you shouldn’t be judged for something like how you and I met before they get a chance to know you.  You’re so sweet and respectful, and just kind and such a good father… but… I… any girl would be lucky to date you.  And I would never want to get in the way of that,” you finish lamely.

“Is that what you want, hermosa?” Frankie takes a step forward, causing you to look up.

There’s a look in Frankie’s eye that you haven’t seen before.  No, wait – that isn’t exactly true.  You’ve seen it before but on Francisco’s face.  It was the expression he had sometimes when you would just look at each other, no words exchanged – one filled with longing and desperation.

“You want me to date other girls?” he practically spits out the words, as if they don’t belong anywhere near his mouth.

You don’t know how to answer, except honestly. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say quietly.

Frankie looks at your fallen face and thinks he might have to walk back his earlier self assessment that he knows how to read you.  You seemed sad, disappointed – but why?  A big part of him just wants to comfort you and make you feel better, regardless of the cause of your unhappiness; but another part of him, the part where hope had been planted earlier and is starting to grow at a rapid pace, watered by the mere idea that you might care at all who he dated, has to know if you feel something for him.  His selfishness wins out and he decides to go for broke, “It matters to me what you want.”

Your eyes soften at this declaration, and the downturn of your mouth rights itself slightly into a quizzical ‘O’, but still you say nothing so Frankie presses on.

“It matters because I’ve thought about you every single day since I met you.  The whole summer, all I thought about your sweet laugh and the way you always smiled at me like what I was saying mattered to you.  And how those pretty eyes of yours would light up every time you said something you already knew was really funny and you were just waiting to see if I would catch on and laugh.  I thought about what it would be like to take you out, court you, treat you like you deserve.  Hold you without a time limit,” the look Frankie gives you at this confession is of both despair and relief, as a dam has broken and now nothing can stop his words from overflowing. 

“And since that first day of school when I found you again, I’ve only thought of you more.  I think of the way you’re so full of patience and compassion, and that your son is so kind and considerate because of you.  And that my daughter and I are so lucky to have you both in our lives.  I think about how Valentina told you once that she liked those cheese biscuits you made, and now every time you bring her a snack, there’s always at least one included.  I think about how you always take of others and how everyone around you is happier for being in your presence.  I think about how I want to take care of you too.  I think about how I used to think you were beautiful in that club, but now you blow me away time I see you at school, or in the park, or when we’re just hanging out with the kids.  I think the way you look in the kitchen on those mornings when it’s just you and me before the kids wake up is the most gorgeous a person has ever looked.  It makes me think about how much I wish I was waking up next to you instead of just meeting you in the kitchen.  I think about what it would be like to fall asleep holding you.  I think about making you feel good, the way you deserve to feel good.  I think about what it would be like to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”  You’ve never heard Frankie talk like this before and your breath hitches in your throat – this is everything and more that you’ve always dreamed of hearing him say; you’re afraid to interrupt, for fear he might say it’s a mistake and take it all back.

Frankie seems to collect himself, calming, “Did you know the night I went to the club and you were gone, I was going to ask you out?”  You shake your head, you didn’t know – you had harboured your own hopes, of course, that you and Francisco might see each other outside of the club, but the possibility seemed so slim and laughable, you had never even spoken them out loud.

“The guys finally hyped me enough to convince me you might say yes.  I wasn’t sure, you know?  I only saw you every two weeks, and I thought I was probably making more of our time together than it really was… it would have been perfectly within your rights if you were… just doing your job, you know?” Frankie is miserable at the thought.  In truth, he still harbours this insecurity – since the two of you have reconnected, you haven’t given him any indication that you had thought him as more than just some patron you had to entertain every two weeks.  Then again, the two of you never spoke of the time at the club at all; he had worried that this was a sent message in and of itself.  Moreover, you haven’t said anything since he started his confession and he’s starting to think he might just be humiliating himself and ruining your friendship at the same time.

You shake your head violently.  No, no, no.  This won’t do at all! You really don’t know how Frankie could have ever thought that, but then again, you had thought he was ashamed of your time together – you can’t let another minute go by without him knowing how you felt, how he made you feel, “No, please, Frankie – don’t ever think that please.  It wasn’t my job – I never went to the room with anyone but you.  I never wanted to go with anyone but you.  I only wanted you.  I looked forward to out time together and every two weeks never felt like enough.  You were so sweet and respectful, and you made me feel so perfect and desired, and so very cherished.  I wanted you more than you know, Frankie.  Everything that happened in that room, everything I said, everything we did – I loved it all.  It was real to me.”

“Yeah?”  Frankie’s feels hope he’s never felt before when he sees you smile and nod, “When you weren’t there, I was so confused.  You didn’t say goodbye, so I didn’t know if something had happened to you, or if you were sick, or… I don’t know.  Then I realized, you didn’t owe me a goodbye – I was just some guy whose lap you sat in…”

“Oh baby,” you reach out to touch his face.  Baby.  Frankie closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“I’m so sorry!  I wanted to leave you a message, but I… didn’t know what to say.  I didn’t know what was okay to ask from you.  Maybe I was just a girl who sat in your lap, you know?”

Eyes still closed, Frankie nuzzles deeper into your palm, “No, hermosa… you weren’t.  You’re so much more than that.  You’re everything to me.”

Tears now prick at the corners of your eyes for a much happier reason and you cup Frankie’s face fully in your hands and soothe him by scratching his scruff, hoping he’ll recall the affectionate gesture as you say sincerely, “I would have said yes.”

“Hmmm?” Frankie revels in the feel of your soft strokes on his face – this simple but loving gesture taking him back to the club when he had you to himself, when his want for you always simmered close to the surface but where he wasn’t allowed to let it boil over.  But he’s not at the club now.

Smiling wide, your heart bursts with joy and affection for this sweet man in front of you that you’ve wanted for so long - you never want him to be unsure of your feelings for him ever again, “I would have said yes, if you had asked me out.”

“Yeah?”  Finally allowing himself to believe that you return his affections, that you’ve always felt the same for him as he did you, Frankie opens his eyes and allows his grin to overtake his face.

He’s so cute and boyish when he smiles like this – you spy that cute dimple making its appearance again and you beam back, “Yeah.”

Happy emotions spilling over, Frankie breathes out the question that he’s wished to ask since the first night he laid eyes on you, “Can I touch you, Shortcake?”    

Voice husky and so full of need you’re practically vibrating, you nod with conviction, “Yes please, Francisco.”

Upon hearing his full name roll so sweetly off your tongue, the only name you ever called him back at the club, Frankie closes the remaining distance and is on you in an instant - lips crashing to yours with a force that nearly knocks you off your feet.  His hands immediately encircle your waist to catch you just as you throw your arms around his neck and pull him close. 

It’s another first kiss of sorts, this one needy and expressive and full of emotions previously thought unrequited.  You kiss Frankie like you can’t quite believe you are, part of you still can’t - by some miracle of a second chance, he’s here: Francisco is here and he’s real.  And he’s also Frankie, who knows you in the real world and still wants you.  The very thought makes you dizzy and you take off his worn cap so you can thread your fingers through his soft curls for something to ground yourself.

Your mouths clash and tangle, every brush of your lips is frenzied, desperate, greedy.  Frankie urges you to open your mouth to his and when you welcome him, he licks in, over and over, exploring and claiming every soft moan you emit as his own.  His tongue slides alongside yours reassuringly and lets itself be captured by your teeth; you teasingly tug and suck on the muscle before letting it invade your mouth once more. 

You’ve dreamt about your and Francisco’s first kiss a hundred times, but this, this first kiss with Frankie is something for the books.  He can touch you – his hands won’t stop touching you and it makes your entire body sing.  Frankie cradles you head in his big hands and lightly tugs your hair back so that you arch into to him.  Once he’s satisfied, his hands roam your back, stroking up and down your spine with that just right pressure that toes the line between relaxing and electrifying; you want to melt into his touch and let him caress you with this type of reverence everywhere.  Then when his hands wander down over the plush globes of your ass with feather light touches, you giggle from the ticklish feel only to dissolve into a puddle when he grabs fistfuls of your cheeks and kneads – his hands so big that the tips of his fingers nearly graze the core of you that’s already warm and clenching just from all this kissing.  And throughout all this touching, as if to make up for lost time, Frankie never stops kissing you.  He kisses you like he’s been starving for your touch, because he has – and now that he’s been given the go ahead to satiate his hunger, he positively devours you.  You think you might pass out from the way Frankie kisses.

As he continues to overwhelm your senses, Frankie slowly walks you backwards towards the dining table and helps you hop on top; without being asked, you spread your legs to accommodate his width as he presses himself against your centre; unable to help from grinding against him, you’re sure Frankie can feel how wet you are through your leggings.  You lean back, putting yourself on display and he takes the invitation readily, kissing down your neck sensually and teasing you slowly - a marked contrast from how greedy he’s been with your mouth.  First, he lets loose breathy groans by your ear right before lightly nibbling your earlobe and leaving you shivering.  Then, Frankie places fluttering kisses that alternate with the nuzzling from his strong nose below your ear; the subsequent transition to open mouth kisses, all nips and sucks, down your neck that ending in the laving of his tongue across your collar bones has you gasping for air.

Lightheaded and giddy, all you can do is take and whimper words of praise that have Frankie moaning against your skin:

“Oh god, Frankie, that feels so good.”

“Fuck, baby, right there… yes, oh god, right there.”

“Never stop, please.  Please, Francisco, I’ve wanted this for so long, I – OH!”

Frankie’s hands have found your chest, groping and palming – somehow managing to zero in on your nipples even through the layers of your shirt and lingerie.  He pinches and twists, tugs and rolls as you throw your head back and positively whine.  Chuckling into the sweet spot at the bottom of your neck, he murmurs, “Can’t wait to see you in some slutty lacy thing again, Shortcake.”

You’re practically bucking into him now - wet and throbbing, all the build up to this moment has the waves of your desire and arousal cresting shamefully quick; you’re starting to feel the telltale coil below your belly tighten when you realize with a start - “Frankie!  We can’t!  The children!”

Frankie looks like he wants to say something else as he pauses in his efforts, but he stops and presses his forehead to yours, panting, “Right, the children.”  And mutters something about how this might be worse than the no touching rule.

You giggle. 

Looking at you with a mixture of unadulterated joy and devotion, Frankie finally asks, months in the making, “Next weekend when Valentina’s at her mom’s, can I take you out, Shortcake?  Like a real date?  Dinner?”

Shyly, you nod, “It’s a date, Francisco.” And you press your lips hard to the giant grin that spreads across Frankie’s face, catching a glimpse of that dimple you love so much before closing your eyes and sighing in happiness.

---

*Bzzzz*Bzzzz*

“Hey Frankie!” Already laying into bed, you answer your phone - giddy when you see the caller ID.

“Hey Shortcake.”  You can hear Frankie’s smile.

“I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, baby.”

“Did everything go okay with bedtime?”

“Uhhhhhhhh….”

“Same here.  Valentina fought sleep like it was her job.”

“Raynor tried to bribe me with a ‘it’s my birthday’.”

“Little devils,” Frankie chuckles good naturedly, unable to hide his affection for your children.

“Totally.  We can’t ever let them gang up on us!  It would be the end, I fear.”

“Can’t be the end, baby.  It’s only the beginning for us.”

“I’m so excited for our date, Frankie.”

“Me, too hermosa.  I’m going to wine and dine you like you deserve.”

“What about the other thing you said you wanted to do, Francisco?” You’re feeling cheeky.

“The other thing?”

“Something about making me scream your name?”

Immediately, he’s stuttering, “Oh… fuck, sorry.  I- that was out of line.  I promise, I don’t expect anything like that…”

“Frankie.”

“I would never put any pressure on you for sex or for anythin-“

“Frankie.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you might like to make me scream your name right now?” Suddenly shy, you cover your face even though Frankie can’t see you.

His head spins, “Wh- oh, fuck.  Yes, baby.”

Your voice breathy and low, “You want to know what I’m wearing, Francisco?”

“More than anything.”

“I’m wearing that black lacy bra and panty set from the club,” you had put it on after getting ready for bed, inspired to set the mood for a solo session starring Frankie, but then he had called.

“The one from our last night together?”

“Mmmmhmmmm…. Do you remember, baby?”

Frankie groans, picturing you and the lace set so perfectly in his mind, “Remember? I can’t get the image out of my mind.  You know what it felt like to see you at school everyday in your pretty work clothes and know that underneath is the sexiest, hottest body I’ve ever seen?”

“Tell me what you liked about it, please.”

“So polite, baby.  Such a good girl.”

You actually whimper.  “Thank you, Frankie.”

“Love your pretty mouth, Shortcake.  And love how that pretty lace sits on those curves of yours.  Your ass bouncing just right, peeking out below the fabric.  Love how those gorgeous tits of yours look, ready to spill over the tops of your bra.”

“Ohhh… Frankie baby.  If we were back in that room and you could touch me, what would you do to me?”

“Holy shit, hermosa.  So many things…”

“Tell me, please.”

“First I’d ask you to dance and touch yourself like you did the last time, but over your bra.”

“Nghhh-huhhhh.”  You feel a warmth spread over your skin, remembering how sexy and desired Francisco always made you feel.

“Are you touching yourself right now, baby?”

Fingers tingling from just his voice, you run your hands over your breasts, softly rubbing and massaging, imagining your small hands are his. “Yes, Frankie.”

“Good girl, baby.  Feel those pretty tits for me, ‘kay?  I want you to grab them, be a little rough with them.”

“Oh god, yes…”

“How do they feel, hermosa?”

“The lace is smooth but the edges tickle my fingers.  My tits feel so soft and full, but Francisco, baby… they’re aching for you.”

“I’m right here, Shortcake. Hook those little fingers of yours in your bra and think about me pulling those lace cups down and playing with your pretty nipples when they pop out.”

“Please, yes… daddy.”  The honorific just falls from your mouth, wrapped around a soft moan that emanates from the very chest you’ve now uncovered.  Yes, he may be a dad, but right now, as you arch your tits up towards the ceiling towards his imagined touch, Frankie is also your daddy.

No one has ever called him that before, but fuck if Frankie’s dick didn’t just twitch.  “Oh fuck, baby… Daddy’s going to take real good care of you.”

“Feels so good… they’re so hard for you.”

“If I we were at the club, I’d roll them in between my fingers, pinching and pulling on them until you cried out, hermosa.”

You tug a little harder on your nipples at his words, before letting them drop, letting your breasts jiggle, “It hurts… but it hurts so good, daddy.”

“Let daddy kiss it better, Shortcake.  You’ll feel even better when I suck on your pretty tits, baby, don’t you think?”

“Ohhhh goddddd, yes please, daddy.  Want you sucking on my nipples and flicking them with your tongue.”

“Holy sh-.  Run your thumbs over them gently, ‘kay?  I wanna suck on those pretty peaks until you cry.  I still remember them from that night, so perky and pointy.  Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you, Francisco.  I love being your pretty girl.”

“You are my pretty girl.  Tell me what my pretty girl wants now.”

“I wish you were here to touch me, baby.” Your voice comes out needy, bratty.

“Need your words, hermosa.  Where?  Tell me where you want my fingers and daddy will give you what you want.”

“My pussy, please.  I want you to touch my cunt, daddy.”

“Didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth on you, baby.”

“I’m going to keep my lips and tongue on those gorgeous tits of yours and start to drag my hands down your sexy body.  Think I’ll take my time tickling your stomach and hips.”

“Then when you’re squirming and begging for more, that’s when I’ll dip my hand down the front of those lacy black panties.”

You follow the guidance of his words and goosebumps rise on your skin in the wake of everywhere you drag your fingers.  “Ohhhhh... baby.  You’re making feel so good.  I’m so wet, Francisco.”

“Want you to tell me, baby - are you touching that pussy the way you want to be touched?”

“Yes, daddy.  I’m petting my pussy so slow and gentle and I love it, but I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“I know, Shortcake, and I’m not going be.  Waited too long for this to be gentle.  Tell daddy how wet you are.”

“I’m so wet, daddy – I’ve soaked through these panties and I’m dripping out of my needy hole.” 

“Can you hear how I’m spreading it everywhere, even all over my swollen clit?”

“Holy fucking shit, Shortcake, the mouth on you.”

“I’m your dirty girl, Francisco.  My dirty mouth is all yours.  Wish I could take your cock in this mouth.”

“Jesus.  Baby, I’m supposed to be making you scream, not the other way around.  Slip a finger into that slutty little cunt for me, hermosa.”

“Ohhhh god yes, baby, I’m tight.  My pussy is hugging my finger so close.  Wish it was yours.”

“Oh, Shortcake, if you wanted it to be me, you would need to add a finger or two.”

You hiss at the stretch, “Gahhhhhhh – oh fuck, Frankie! It’s too much.”

“How many, baby?  How many did you add while you were thinking of my thick fingers?”

“Two more, daddy.  It’s too much, please.”  Whining now, you feel stuffed and full, the slight sting turning you on even more and a fresh wave of arousal coats your hand.

“No, don’t take them out.  Need you to stretch out your pretty hole for me.”  Frankie’s tone is dark and stern, and it makes you clench down on your slippery fingers.

“Uhhhh... Fuckkk.  Francisco, I can take it.  Please.” 

“Baby, your fingers are no match for this dick.  This dick is going to ruin you.” 

“I can feel my pussy gushing and dripping down my wrist.”

“If we were back in the club, I’d take your hand and lick those fingers until you were clean.”

“Frankie.  Mhhmmmhhhhmhhh.”  You make sure Frankie can hear you stuff you glistening fingers in your mouth and every single slurping and smacking noise you make as you lick them clean of your own juices.

“So fucking dirty.  Fuck, I’m so hard for you baby.  Need to get you ready so I can feed you my cock.  You want that, Shortcake?”

“Yes, oh yes please daddy.  All I ever wanted back in the club was to sink down on your thick cock.  Wanted you to fuck me till I was cock drunk and dumb.”

“I’ll give you everything you want, baby but we have to prep that greedy cunt of yours, okay?  If you want my cock, put three fingers back in baby.”

“So big, daddy.”  Sighing, you ease your wet fingers back in; the squelching sound of your fingers sliding through your slick makes you quiver with anticipation.

“Do you know now much I wanted to taste you when we were in the club?”

“Oh god, Francisco.  Please.”

“Wanted to run my tongue over that pussy of yours.  I knew it would be the prettiest pussy I ever saw.”

“Your pussy, baby.  This pussy is only yours.”  You sigh at the simple truth of your words as you work your fingers in and out of your cunt, pretending they’re Frankie’s.

“You still have my pussy stuffed full of your fingers, Shortcake?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.  Now use your other hand to rub your little clit and pretend it’s me stroking it with my tongue.”

“Uhhhhhhh, nghhhh, fuckkkkkkk, Frankie… your tongue feels so good against my slippery clit.  Are you touching yourself, baby?”

“Got my cock out the minute you told me you were wearing that same slutty lingerie you wore at the club, hermosa.”

“Did you like what I wore at the club, Francisco?”

“Hell yes, sweetheart.  Everything you wore made me so hard.  You made me so fucking hard.  Made me want to rip those skimpy outfits off of you with my teeth.”

“I wish you did.  Wish you were here to do that right now.”  You look down and see your tits, having spilled over the band of your bra, bouncing while both of your hands are stuffed in your panties, and you visualize looking down past your feet and seeing Frankie’s gaze upon you with his big dick in his meaty hand, “Stroke yourself for me, daddy.”

“Stroking my cock right now, imagining what it would feel like in your tight little pussy, Shortcake.”  His hands glide over his length, throbbing just from thinking about the way you’re stretching out your cunt so that you can take him.

“Wanna feel your thick cock in my pussy, Francisco.  Can’t wait for you to ruin me.”

“Going to wreck that little hole of yours, hermosa.”

“Need you so bad, daddy.  Can you hear how wet you’re making me?  I’m going to come so soon.”  The wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of your pussy fill your bedroom - an obscene percussive beat to the song of your moans and cries; your arousal leaking down your ass and making a mess of your sheets underneath.  Frankie can hear it all and your whorish symphony urges him thrust into his fist faster to keep up.

“Keep rubbing that clit for me, Shortcake.”

“Wish I could see you, baby.  Wish I could see what your pretty face looks like right now, imagining my fingers curling deep inside that sweet pussy.” 

“Can’t wait until you give me that dripping wet cunt and I show you what I want do to you.”

“Please!! Francisco.  I’m close!  Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“I’m going to lick your clit until it’s swollen and puffy then I’m going to suck and nibble it with my teeth until you push my head away.”

“Gonna pound into that pretty pussy until your walls are stretched and bruised.”

“You won’t be able to breath.  I’ll punch every breath out of your lungs.”

“I’m going to fuck you until you scream that this is my pussy.”

“My pussy.”

“To fuck.”

“To ruin.”

“To wreck so no other man will ever be able to fill you the way I do.”

“Fuck you the way that I do.”

“Fuck you stupid like I do.”

“Fuck you until you don’t know your own name.”

“Fuck you until you’re just a cock drunk slut who isn’t good for anything other cock.”

“My cock.”

“Frankieeee! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…. Frankie I’m coming…. I’m coming, daddy, I’m coming!”  You seize and cry out to his name, chanting it over and over like a prayer as your orgasm overtakes all your limbs and you arch off your bed, practically pushing out your fingers from how hard you’re clenching down.

“Ohhhh fuck, hermosa.”  Frankie’s grunts are followed by heavy panting, his uneven breaths as he comes down from his high like music to your ears.

“Daddy, I came so hard.”  You giggle as you wipe your cum covered fingers on your stomach.

“Me too, Shortcake.” You can hear him grinning through the receiver.

“Really?  I made you feel good, Frankie?”  You wish so much that he was next to you right now.

“Always, baby.  You always make me feel good.  The best.”

“Good.  You made me ruin my sheets.”

“And I made you scream my name.”

“Just like you promised.”

“I always keep my promises, Shortcake.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I promise I’m always going to take care of you, baby. Never letting you go again.”

“Oh, Frankie… how did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one, hermosa.  My perfect woman, screaming my name while she comes.  I’m living in a dream, I swear.”

“I always come so hard when it’s you, Frankie.  But it’s never been like this.”

“Yeah?  You touch yourself to the thought of me a lot?”

“Yes, daddy.  Always you.”

“I think of you all the time too, hermosa.  Always make such a mess, just like I did tonight.”

“If we were together right now, I would clean you up with my tongue.”

“Fuck… baby, you’re going to make me hard again.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Francisco.”

“That’s what I’m going to make sure of, Shortcake.  You’re always going to have a good time with me.  Going to make sure you come every time.”

“I believe you, daddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.  The moment I met you in that club, I knew you would make me feel so good with your hands.  And your tongue.  And your cock.”

“Jesus... Baby, what did I say?  Don’t start what you can’t stop, because if you keep talking like that I’m going to be hard again really soon.”

“Well, I’m still sloppy and wet, daddy.  Ready to scream your name again.”

“You’re a dream, Shortcake.  I’m going to make sure you come harder than you ever have.  Tonight, tomorrow, every day after.”

“Promise, Francisco?”

“Promise.  And I don’t break my promises.”

“Ok, daddy.  Show me what you got.  Just remember, tomorrow is a school day, so we can’t be up too late.”

“I also don’t make promises I know I can’t keep, Shortcake.  Now be a good girl and take off those messy panties.”

Epilogue

Tagging a few people who commented on Part 1 they were interested in Part 2 (thank you! 🥹): @aurorawritestoescape @magpiepills @pastelpinkflowerlife @southernbe @heareball

@mermaidxatxheart @nandan11 @mellymbee @jessthebaker @milla-frenchy

@littlemissoblivious @tuquoquebrute @inept-the-magnificent @posting-my-time

[gabessquishytum]

Time for some dreamling crack! I apologize for the length, it got out of control. Destiny is done. He's just done, okay? He's had enough of his parents who were never there, siblings who are constantly up to some shit, and his ultra-serious job with no vacations. Moreover, being constantly chained to a book (especially when it's such a huge and heavy book) sucks. So, one day he makes an ultimate decision to go on a holiday into some remote galaxy for a century or two, but first, he needs to complete one task that he actually assigned to himself. Technically, he's not supposed to intervene and all that cosmic bullshit, but he's Destiny, and that's his destiny, pun intended. He's the CEO! The year is 1389. Destiny calls Death and tells her they need to go to Dream asap. She's surprised and slightly worried but obeys without questions. Dream is even more surprised - Destiny normally never visits, so the circumstances must be exceptional. Which they are. Destiny is in no mood for pleasantries and gets straight to the business, informing Dream that he needs to get laid for the common good. Dream bluescreens, and so does Death. 'I beg you pardon?' Dream blinks. Destiny never jokes, and he must have misheard… But Destiny, in his impassive, 100% serious tone, repeats that Dream does need to get laid. To prevent the deaths of thousands of dreamers in the 20th century, to prevent the grudge with hell, to save multiple dreams and nightmares, etc., but ultimately, to save himself from the ill fate. 'All this can be prevented if I get laid?' Dream's metaphorical head is spinning. 'Yes,' Destiny deadpans. 'Okay...' Death interrupts cautiously. 'Why am I here, though?' 'Because he needs to get laid regularly, and there is only one human who can handle this task. He must be made immortal for this reason.'

Dream feels like the Dream.exe file has been irrevocably damaged. 'I need to get laid regularly?' He repeats weakly. 'Brother, you know how important my function is. I have no time for-' 'This is exactly why you meet your doom in all the futures but one.' '…where I'm getting laid?' Destiny nods. Death beams. Dream pales to a previously unexisting shade of white. Without further ado, Destiny takes them all to the White Horse, buys some ale (his vacation mood starts to kick in - he expected more objections from Dream), and nods at one table. 'Robert Gadling. He is the chosen one.' 'Brother, you surely do not want me to lay with a mortal who has fleas and hasn't bathed for Delirium knows how long,' says terrified Dream. 'I surely do. Fleas are the least of your potential problems, little brother.' 'Alright.' Death says. 'Robert Gadling is immortal now. Can I go?' Destiny nods again. Death smiles and, before disappearing, loudly whispers to Dream to invite her to the wedding. Dream glances one last time at his brother and approaches Robert's table. If this is his destiny...and it's for the greater good of the universe and dreamers...Besides, this Robert Gadling is quite handsome - well, unwashed and smelly, but handsome still. Destiny is very pleased. Now, he only needs to sign up Desire for a few millennia of uncancellable therapy, and he can go drink his cocktails in a galaxy far, far away!

I love this, thank you so much for writing it all out. It really made me chuckle.

I'm absolutely obsessed with the idea of Destiny just getting really sick of the universe and all the bullshit that it contains. He's the equivalent of a harassed middle aged working parent attempting to keep everything under control and inevitably watching it all go to shit. He deserves such a good vacation, I hope there's a really good spa in the galaxy he's picked out.

Being the oldest sibling is hard, even when you come from a family of cosmic entities. And honestly? Destiny kind of likes the look of his new human brother-in-law. If this guy can keep Dream from going off the rails then that's wonderful, but the fact that he's cute? Also helps. Destiny may be blind but he is not immune to the Hobpropaganda. He's actually kind of not dreading the next family dinner? He can already see that it's going to run a whole lot smoother with Hob around the table.

But first: bottomless mimosas in a different star system. Bye, losers!

[villain-crown]

dust | @jegulus-microfic | words: 864

critical care, part 8 (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 9)

a Jegulus nurse!AU

James Potter was a catch. 

A brilliant, handsome, charming catch. He was confident boarderlining on arrogant, suave verging on dazzling, one of the smartest nurses in Gryffindor, and god help him, he was not going to fuck up the pass he was attempting to make at Regulus Black.

The very same man who had just texted him his clean STD panel after telling him in no uncertain circumstances that they would be fucking soon and enthusiastically.

[Of course, I expect you to provide the same results.]

Hell, James would take whatever test Regulus asked of him. He’d take the entire nurse licensing exam all over again if he wanted it. And blood results? James would stick himself with a rusty nail if it meant satisfying Regulus’s requirements. 

Play it cool, Potter. Play it cool. 

Not desperate, no; just cool, suave, James Potter. 

He had this. 

[For sure! You’re very organized lol!]

The answer: [I prefer no condoms.]

Holy shit, he did not have this.

“...you think Dorcas would go for that?” 

Sirius was still carrying on their conversation and did not seem to realize that James was about to pass out right in front of him.

“Sure, Pads,” he all but wheezed, fighting to keep a straight face. “Dorcas. Good idea.”

“Really, James, are you okay? You look… weird.”

He waved him off, clearing his throat. “No, no, I’m just… dust! There’s lots of dust floating around.” He coughed pointedly once more. “Keep talking, I’m listening.”

[Does that bother you?] Regulus asked while James was in the middle of saving his number. 

Oh, James was bothered alright. 

After some deliberation, he decided he needed some kind of code name for the Slytherin to be saved under. It would be nothing short of incriminating for someone to see Regulus Black texting him suggestive shit, but he needed something slightly less obvious than Sirius’s Hot Little Brother. He thought back to the little silver chain twined around Regulus’s gorgeous neck. Three letters hug off it: RAB. 

Perfect. 

…This was completely crazy. He was having a straight-faced conversation about possibly the most earth shattering, borderline-pornographic sex he would ever have in his life with Regulus Black and Sirius wanted to stand there and talk pranks.

[You’re so fucking hot. I am fighting for my life here.]

[You could stand to suffer more. So tell me what you’re into.]

Oof, what a loaded question. Well, apparently he was into best friend’s little brothers who enjoyed dirty sex, which was an interest he could do without. 

Good sense made him pause. 

Was he ready to hand over very personal, potentially humiliating information to a coworker he’d just met yesterday? The memory of Regulus’s gorgeous, lithe body standing on his toes as he leaned into James’s space to whisper the things I like might be a bit much for you was the deciding factor. 

Jame Potter would honestly hand Regulus Black a fucking loaded gun if this conversation would just continue. 

But what could he say in response to a question like that? He didn’t want to come off as too much, but Regulus didn’t strike him as the kind of guy that would be satisfied with too little, either. 

Fuck, what to do.

Apparently, Regulus has some ideas.

“Am I not entertaining you here, Prongs?” Sirius snapped loudly, forcing James to look up from reading the incredibly dirty texts that Regulus was starting to send. His best friend was glaring at him.

Suddenly, Sirius lunged for his phone. 

And James, who hadn’t expected it, found that he was too slow to keep custody of it.

“SIRIUS, FUCK OFF!”

“No! I want to know what’s so fascinating on here that you can’t be bothered to listen to me for the last ten minutes!”

He tussled with Sirius to steal it back, but with no luck. At a certain point in the scuffle, James became uncomfortably aware that the family of the patient in bed eighteen was blatantly staring at them. Embarrassed, James backed off, straightening his burgundy scrubs and trying to look professional. Sirius, who could care less what other people thought, didn’t even bother looking up, instead taking his time examining James’s text messages. 

He held his breath, desperately trying to come up with a solid defense for why Sirius’s precious baby brother might be texting him some of the dirtiest shit James had ever been sent. You know, just in case Sirius Realized. 

I was framed.

It was an accident.

He looks like my future husband. 

Weak. Weak defenses, all of them. 

Get it together, Potter! 

“No condom, huh? Wow, what a whore,” Sirius declared with the admiration of one who had shared that title. He glanced through the texts and negative STD results, making James nearly ascend. “I respect him. This guy knows what he’s about! Rab, huh? Who’s this again?”

“I didn’t say.”

Bloody hell, Sirius was going to kill him—kill him twice: once for having a single sexual thought about his little brother and again for letting Sirius say that about Regulus, who, according to Marlene, he believed was an innocent baby angel who could do no wrong. 

“It’s just some guy,” James finished faintly.

“Huh.” Sirius handed the phone back. “Hot. You should fuck him.”

…Well, if you insist.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Thoughts on Ron x Hermione? Were they a good pairing or should they not have been endgame

I think it makes sense that they're endgame, and I like them as a pairing. I'm not passionate about them, so you won't catch me reading/writing fic where they're the main couple, but as a side couple while Harry's having the main romantic drama, sure.

My problem with Romione is how they were written a bit. Like, in my current reread, I noticed I actually kinda shipped them in books 3, 4, and 5 but like, Romione in books 6 and 7 really doesn't do it for me.

I'll try to organize my thoughts. Like, I do like Hermione and Ron's banter, I honestly think a lot of the petty arguments Harry tunes out are just fun to them. They are both very verbose people and they enjoy bantering and arguing over petty bullshit (bar a few exceptions like 3rd year). I mean, there is a reason these two are bantering and Harry just tones them out:

“Well done, Ron,” snapped Hermione. “What?” said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. “I’m not allowed to ask a simple question?” “Oh forget it,” said Hermione irritably, and the pair of them spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence. Harry was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his steak-and-kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favorite treacle tart.

(OotP, 210)

“That was really, really good, Harry,” said Hermione, when finally it was just her, Harry, and Ron left. “Yeah, it was!” said Ron enthusiastically, as they slipped out of the door and watched it melt back into stone behind them. “Did you see me disarm Hermione, Harry?” “Only once,” said Hermione, stung. “I got you loads more than you got me —” “I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times —” “Well, if you’re counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand —” They argued all the way back to the common room, but Harry was not listening to them.

(OotP, 596)

It makes sense they are like this. Hermione is argumentative in general and Ron grew up in a large family with a lot of siblings. He spent all his childhood arguing with people he loves — arguing over petty shit is a love language. I think, as a couple, they'd just continue doing this.

I mentioned in my Harmony post that I think Ron is closer to Hermione than Harry is. Ron is protective of both Harry and Hermione and stands up to Snape and Malfoy multiple times on behalf of both his friends (as I mentioned in the past, Ron is the friendship glue here, in my opinion) even when Harry and Hermione don't stand up to each other. And yes, Ron had his faults in books 4 and 7 (book 4 is the worst one in my opinion since in book 7 he tried to return immediately, he just removed himself from a volatile situation that can actually be super healthy as a means to calm down) but I do think he's a good friend to Harry and Hermione and knows how to connect to both of them.

Like, I kinda hate that the fandom just ran with Ron having the emotional range of a teaspoon. I mean, he's often the most emotionally intelligent person in the Golden Trio, and he should be given more credit. He is the only one of them who knows to change how he talks depending on who he's talking to on a somewhat conscious level. Hermione is too rigid in her views and doesn't really do social chameleon-ing. Harry does do it, but through mirroring and he does it differently than Ron.

And I think Romione's personalities do work really well together. They complete each other in a nice way. Hermione is all book smarts and memorization, and Ron is strategy and plans (street smarts). They are both brave in different ways and have a different temperament. Like, they get emotional under different circumstances, so one of them would usually end up being cool-headed.

Like, they both require a similar level of attention in a relationship so they work well on that front. Ron knows how to be supportive of Hermione's pursuits, even when he doesn't fully get them, and Hermione (at least in the early books) is aware of Ron's cleverness and appreciates it and his sense of humor. They are good to each other in how they push the other's worldview. Hermione pushes Ron out to rethink things he always considered fine (House Elfs). And Ron pushes Hermione to have more fun and relax a little.

The reason I have a problem with how they are written is that I hate how Hermione's crush on Ron is treated in HBP. Like, that shit was painful to read. I would've loved for them to get together without Hermione being the bitterest, meanest girl out there. Like, I don't mind Hermione being mean, she can be mean on occasion, it's part of her character. Like, I have no qualms about her using that Confundus Charm on McLaggen, that's in character. My problem is how she treated Ron when he was dating Lavender.

Like, I didn't mind the insults towards Lavender too much, that's in character (she is a bit of a pick-me girl like Ginny too, especially in book 6, but even before), but attacking Ron with birds when he never dated Hermione was overkill. Ron's shit towards Hermione and Krum in the fourth year was less extreme than this, I mean, he would never attack Hermione physically. Ron would argue with her, sure, he does so plenty, but he never did and never will attack her and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth to see Hermione willing to attack him quite violently over kissing Lavender when Ron wasn't dating Hermione, it wasn't fucking cheating, Hermione!

Like, I hate it.

In general, I like Ron more than I like Hermione, and this means it's never going to be a pairing I'm invested in, but, it makes sense and could've been done way better than it was in the books. I think Romione had potential and was done dirty.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

Rewatching “All 2 U” and under the contexts of how I personally perceived Stolas’s songs in “Look My Way” and “When I See Him” theres so much potential here for this to be actually interesting and its so far just being thrown away. In every song I have mentioned Stolas has moments where he stops and thinks “maybe I was the problem”.

Examples being:

"Unless it's me, and no matter what in this world I could give; it's not enough to get through the walls you've conjured up to live"

"I will try to make amends for making you means to an end"

"Am I doing something I can't take back? Would he want me if he was free? And if he's only here as a prisoner what kind of monster does that make me?"

"But maybe it's all on me for missin' every sign and every glance and every turn."

"Maybe there's somethin' here for us to glean for you to teach, and me to try to learn."

All of these imply so much that Stolas could be coming to the conclusion that he was one of the biggest issues in their relationship. Yes Blitz also hold fault, but thats a post for another day. I so truly believe Stolas could be so so interesting even if I personally think Helluva Boss should NOT be a romantic story, there’s still so much potential to it. I’ve mentioned before that I was in a very very similar relationship to whatever “Stolitz” is, and while I both hate my ex and how she treated me, it was not a one sided issue. Yeah she was abusive but also I can’t just say I wasn’t a bit rude at times. Getting off topic though, what I’m trying to say is even if one person is the main issue and you hate them, in certain circumstances you can still have part of your mind that wishes the best for them. I think my main point is that for people like my ex who have mental problems that get in the way of relationships and can result in abusive behaviours, I want the chance for them to see themselves in a character that has done the same things, recognized it, forgiven themselves, and made an attempt to be a better person.

I myself have been in many relationships where my mental problems got in the way and ended up separating me from people I care about in one way or another and I know how dogshit it feels when it happens, especially when you are the problem. Many people don’t like acknowledging that they may be the problem and then when they eventually do realise it, they struggle on trying to fix the issue.

This spans to the people you surround yourselves with as well. Just for example in “All 2 U” Stolas is not the first person to call Blitz a “motherfucker” he explicitly goes to “I don’t think you meant to hurt me” meanwhile Verosika and Tex push the implication that Blitz is the problem and during the rest if the song, as stated before, we see Stolas point out “maybe I was the problem” to which Verosika and Tex immediately but in with blaming Blitz instead. And honestly they have reason to (at least Verosika does and Tex is going by word of mouth I assume) but it plays into the idea that a bad person or abuser cant also be abused.

You can see every time Stolas considers something isn’t Blitz’s fault Verosika and Tex are so quick to step in and tell him he’s wrong. He’s just surrounded by yes people right now and i really believe thats something that could be used in the narrative. Stolas getting away from these people to take in reality and then finally be like “no it was me i was right about it”. And idk it could even lead into more Verosika development where she acknowledges that Blitz has now seen how shitty one-sided and abusive relationships can be and they talk more instead of just like 3 minutes on the stairs. This is a topic I touch on with my Vox rewrite but thats in a different way. I just think with so much buildup to Stolas realising he was a huge issue they could do so much helpful representation in certain ways for people with problems like BPD, bipolar, ROCD, and a bunch of other things. I suffer from the last two and I hardly EVER see these portrayed respectfully or how they actually affect people. It’s always just “im happy and then in 2 seconds im going to be mildly upset :(“ or “omgg I love cleaning!!” with OCD. It’s just so infuriating to see Vivzie not touch on so much potential again.

Also “stolitz” should not get back together even if Stolas became a better person, just to clarify.

[demaparbat-hp]

In almost all of your artwork you transform Katara into a different person. You take away her hair loopies, give her short hair (knowing how much hair is important to her culture), take away all her heritage, and now you have her join Fire Nation military because of your AU, which can be misinterpreted if your art is reposted without context. You’re really talented but as a woc, why do you like removing all of Katara’s culture in your AUs?

Hi! I had never given this much thought because I honestly didn't think it would ever be a problem, but I guess I can see where you're coming from.

Culture is something precious, and it's very, very important to me, as a creator, to get these character's cultures right. I've studied about cultural inspiration and lore in ATLA, especially their visual characteristics. They're so diverse, and I love exploring them. Especially through clothing and the characters' distinct features. Katara in particular is probably my favorite character to draw, and I always do my best to make it clear she's Water Tribe through visual representation.

That being said, I took the liberty of checking out the artworks I've posted to see things from your pov. And I guess you're right, to an extent. I can understand that, without context, it may seem as if I'm erasing Katara's culture.

Except that's not true. At all.

Even, as I already said, without context.

These are the only artworks I could find that fit your description. But I don't know if you've noticed, anon, the things they all have in common: each one of them is an AU, in which Katara is put in a position where she needs to hide her identity (the Hunters AU, as well as Lee and Kya) or has a different background all together (in the middle, the HalfBlood AU, where he's born in the Earth Kingdom as a water half-child); but even under these circumstances, I don't forget about her culture, and neither does she.

Instead of her hair loopies, she wears a Warrior's braids and beads, a waterskin, and a blue sash embroidered with silver waves; all of this while she's part of a Fire Nation crew that's trying to end the war from within.

The other AUs are like that, too. Katara finds ways to remember her culture, who she is, even if it's in the little details. A blue and silver sash in seas of green clothing, a betrothal necklace once belonging to her mother and grandmother. Her features.

I refuse to forget about Katara's culture and how it has shaped her, even if the AU demands it so. She is who she is, no matter what.

[mer-acle]

Okay it's that time. I just kinda wanna talk about the nightmare sequence in this chapter of Fighting to be Loved, specifically what's real/ what actually happened bc I love to yap about what i wrote whoops

1. The athletics festival where Pallas got killed did take place in the courtyard, and Zeus, Hera and Poseidon were all there for it.

2. Someone pointed out that it's implied that Athena rewatched the moment of Pallas's death with time dives many times, and that person is correct, that's exactly what happened. Like the goddess of strategy wouldn't try to analyze her own mistake in that moment, trying to understand what went wrong.

3. Athena doesn't really speak or cry as she tries to staunch the bleeding, both of which she originally very much did. The nightmare is kinda meant to take her voice away bc she feels very powerless right now.

4. Pallas did call Athena "Thena" in reality. Nobody is surprised.

5. The whole scene with Triton is unfortunately pretty accurate to reality as well, he was very rough with her in that moment both verbally and physically. So yeah. That slap did happen.

6. Also her kinda flashing back to learning to dive is in reference to what I laid out in this post. I'm kinda just sighing at Triton in tired exasperation.

7. When Triton demands Zeus to take his daughter back, that's pretty much where we leave reality and enter the fucked up world of Athena's guilt-ridden mind. Bc in reality Zeus yielded pretty quickly (Poseidon was like 'you cannot ask them to keep her, not under these circumstances')

8. So yeah actually Zeus said exactly nothing of what he does in the dream. Surprising, I know. The thing is, he wouldn't even taunt Athena with her love for others bc he just expects her to be cold, so if anything she'd be scolded for it. Which still sucks. He made a big fuss about the whole "Pallas Athena" situation so he actually never acknowledges that title of hers, not even in anger, bc he is personally offended that she insisted on it despite him not wanting her to.

9. Also the most obvious, literally nobody in the family made any prayer even close to this one.

10. Zeus definitely makes comments along the lines of "I shouldn't have let you out of my head." when he's angry at Athena. Very much the "be grateful I birthed you" route. So yeah. Athena has like all the reasons to feel unwanted in general bc honestly the only parental figure who unconditionally loved her is literally the immortal equivalent of dead. Poor owl

So yeah that was that fucked up scene I wrote, stay tuned for more LOL.