#hope it was enjoyable

[iced-souls]

Oc Pride Appreciation Week 1: CHRIS

Say hi to Christian! Also known as good ending void gang au.

She found out she was trans and aroace after the events of undertale with monsters up on the surface, and god was it just a breath of fresh air.

Before the events of void gang, she worked as a pastor, didn’t feel like the job for her, she quit, and now she wants to try become a doctor. She was also dealing with a lot of pent up anger that she eventually learned to calm it down, but it was still around and she never really knew what it came from. Overall tho, nothing ever felt right for her, like a hole she didn’t know what to fill with, until the surface when she started experimenting with “the new human things” just to do some joking around, but it actually just made her feel so much more comfortable and happier then she was before.

And thus lgbt questioning began and now we’re here!!

But then again, if you noticed the “good ending” attached to the au, and the fact that chris is a gaster follower character, Chris never made it to this point, “dying”/ “grey-ified” before frisk falls down and going to the surface. So it makes me sad that i don’t have much about her at her best, but ain’t it that there’s probably a lot of people who probably don’t make it to this point as well, and so i still be proud of her knowing she was gonna figure it all out :].

And that be it for this weeks oc pride appreciation! See you next week!

[thetabbybadger]

Happy new year everybody :3

[nonchalantee]

small perspective flip for any scene of your choice in not strong or brave but a secret third thing if you feel like it! thanks love the fic!

ooo this one is kinda tough actually since that fic has 4 main povs already but HMM lolol in the spirit of chaos, let's go with a donato bro. gelly at dan's congrats! you're a captain! party:

Angelo:

"You can't show up empty-handed," his mom grouses at him over the line while Gelly is busy pouring terrible cop breakroom coffee.

"I'll bring him flowers," Gelly says, rolling his eyes.

"Buck?"

"Huh? Why would I bring Buck flowers? The party is for Dan, right?"

His mom huffs an exasperated sigh. "Gelly-"

"I could have sworn Lu said Dan was the one who was getting the promotion."

"He is," his mom says. "But, listen, Captain Nash is very important to Buck. You need to make a good impression on him, understand? Bring something for the table. Like a charcuterie board or something."

"I'll be late if I stop to do that," Gelly says patiently. He gulps his coffee down in three large swallows, too hot, and sags slightly against his desk. Another 20 minutes left on shift, quick home to change and psych himself up for a social event filled with mostly strangers, then driving over to the directions Lucy gave him. He's the only brother without kids, and one of the only ones left without even a partner, which means he gets to be the official Family Presence for celebration events like this.

"Angelo Lucian Donato, I am trying to give you important advice."

Gelly winces. Full named, okay. "Fine, fine," he says. "I'll get a board from the supermarket, happy? Though I doubt being late will make any better impression than showing up with food."

A brief pause, then, "No, you're right." Before Gelly can say anything to that, his mom adds, "I'll get it for you. Is it better for me to drop it off at work or at home?"

"Ma... what's going on? This is kinda, uh, not normal behavior from you."

"Just trust me," she says, brisk. "Home or work?"

"Home," Gelly answers, giving up.

--

Everyone in the family always talked about Gelly and Lucy like they were copies of one another. They had the same approach to people and situations. They even looked the most alike out of all the kids. Gelly had had his own post-graduation wild child phase that had pioneered the path for Lucy, years later, to spend a few years surfing and working odd jobs without the family freaking out overmuch; they were the two perpetually singles at every family function. Then Dan showed up and became Lucy's steady plus one, but Gelly honestly thought that was all they were ever going to be.

He knew Daniel Buckley pretty well. He even more or less liked Daniel Buckley. Dan was an unquestionably great guy, and he looked at Lucy like she hung the stars in the sky, so Gelly didn't actually have any kind of objection to the man. But Gelly also never thought they were on track for marriage. He thought Lucy was like him in this way the way she was like him in almost every other way: that she liked herself, liked her life, too much to lock it in step with anyone else's. Make herself beholden to someone else, someone not family.

Her getting married a few months ago threw Gelly for a loop because, for maybe the first time, he started looking at his life and thinking Is this where I'm supposed to be? It was maybe more introspection than he ever really gave himself in the past, and it led to some recent dating misadventures as he attempted to also find his forever someone to settle down with. He hadn't thought anyone had really noticed, but he'd forgotten a key piece of information, which was: Marian Donato.

She's waiting for him in his kitchen, having let herself into his apartment with her key, busy at work transferring a grocery store charcuterie board onto a nice tray. She's frowning a little bit in concentration and barely looks up when Gelly walks in, only paying enough attention to him to ask, "Do you want some coffee before you get going?"

Rather than say anything else, Gelly just responds, "Sure, Ma, that would be great."

She gives him approval he doesn't ask for over the outfit he changes into, then messes with his hair till he bats her hands away; then presses his travel mug into one hand and pushes the charcuterie tray into his chest with the other, frowning as she looks him over.

"Maybe you should bring some flowers," she frets.

"For who...?"

"Captain Nash's wife, obviously. I hear she's also important to Buck."

"Okay." Gelly puts both the tray and the coffee down on the counter, then faces his mom. "Explain."

She huffs an impatient breath. "I just want you to make a good impression."

"Uh-huh. Explain in more detail, now."

"Dan was basically an orphan when Lucy brought him home. We didn't have to appease any family. It's not going to be so easy with Buck-"

"Okay, that's too many times you have mentioned Buck today. What's going on, Mom? For real."

She gives him an exasperated glare. "You're looking to settle down," she says, a statement and not a question. Gelly inclines his head, because he knows better than to lie to his mom. She says, "Right now, you're dating your way through everyone you avoided when you were just being casual."

"Okay, how do you know that?"

"I am very observant," she says. "Which is how I know that in about three more weeks, probably after Lucy and Dan drag Buck to family dinner, you're going to look at him and think of him as an option. Because right now everyone is an option. And I am here to tell you, Buck is an excellent option."

Gelly stares at her, brow raised. "Ma, this sounds kinda crazy." Buck is a great kid - he was an amazing partner to Lucy, and Gelly is honestly upset that she's going to lose that in the station transfer - but Buck is almost a decade younger than Gelly and Lucy would kill him, besides. And then Dan would make sure his corpse was desecrated beyond recognition. The guy has a protective streak that Gelly, as a fellow big brother, can see from space.

"I'm just keeping you from stumbling before you even start to race," his mom says. She picks his mug back up and pushes it back towards him. "I'll carry the tray. Come on, we've got to get you going. You can't be late. First impressions! You're meeting the two people Buck thinks of as parents, here."

"Oh, my god," Gelly mumbles, and dutifully follows her out the door.

--

The Grant-Nashes have a pretty swank house, not ostentatious, but classy and warm. It looks like something that would be featured in an architectural magazine of one kind or another. Captain Nash and Sergeant Grant greet him together at the door, and recognize him by name when he introduces himself.

"Angelo, of course, welcome," Athena says, a delighted smile on her face. It even looks authentic. "Please come in. Lucy and Dan are out in the yard - I think they're trying to get the barbecue going."

"As if we didn't already have enough food," Bobby says indulgently. "Though, of course, more is always welcome." He takes the charcuterie tray out of Gelly's hands with a genuine seeming, "This looks great!" while leading Gelly into the kitchen/living room area.

"My mom always says to not show up empty handed," Gelly says. In fact, she'd said it as she closed his car door on him, glowering at him in maternal bossiness.

"Marian is her own brand of terrifying," Buck chimes in, rising from a crouched position in the kitchen. Gelly had entirely missed him on first view: he takes Buck in now.

He's of a height with Gelly, which not many men can claim, though they both fall a little short of Dan's own giant frame. He's big, thanks to all of the functional muscle that firefighters put on, and it looks good on him. He wears it glowingly well, all health and rosy cheeks, bright eyes, big smile.

"You're her favorite, you know nothing of how scary she can actually be," Gelly says, and watches Buck's eyes crinkle in a happy, teasing grin. "Hey, Buck."

"Gelly, hey," Buck says, and takes the few steps forward necessary to bring him within half-hug territory. His arms are huge around Gelly, solid, strong. Gelly claps him on his broad, muscled back, and feels their chests make full contact. This close, he can tell that Buck even smells good - light cologne, more like an afterthought, melding into the base notes of his own personal scent. Gelly squeezes him tighter for a second, feels Buck squeeze him a bit in return, and finds he doesn't actually want to let go.

But it would be weird to not let go.

Buck stays with him and introduces him around to the others who have already arrived - Gelly's met Maddie Buckley before, but not often, and she is even more pregnant now than she was a few months ago. Like, Gelly's pretty sure she's about to pop any second, level of pregnant. Hen and Karen Wilson are fun, and the assorted first responders from the 147 are vaguely familiar in that Gelly has either met them once or twice through Lucy or seen them at some kind of emergency. He banters a bit with them before swooping in on Lucy and Dan, still out on the patio, still hovering over a stubbornly unlit grill.

Gelly smacks a congratulatory kiss to Dan's cheek, channeling his Nonna's spirit to really sell the celebratory ambience, and tells his brother-in-law congratulations.

"Thanks," Dan says, dry. "Do you know how to work this thing?"

"I'm sure we can figure it out," Gelly says magnanimously. But he finds that, even while he's standing with them, ostensibly making some kind of helpful conversation, his gaze is unerringly drawn through the glass doors, finding Buck. Hmmm. Buck looks good in a crowd. People gravitate toward him. He smiles big, he laughs big, he emotes joy with his whole body. He's louder than Dan, but he's not abrasive. He's just... a sweet guy. A really sweet, nice guy. Gelly already knows his family loves Buck. Gelly was not actually kidding when he called Buck Marian's favorite. And Buck is already 'Uncle Buck' to an entire generation of Donatos. Hmmm. A sweet, nice, young guy.

But age gap romances work out. They work out all the time. It's not like either one of them is actually a kid; they're both adults.

Buck is, uh, very adult. Gelly watches him bend down to give Maddie a hand in standing - watches Buck's forearm muscles flex, the way he instinctively braces her and makes sure she has her balance. She says something that makes him laugh and hmmm. He looks good all the time but he looks even better when he's laughing.

Gelly probably looks weird right now with how he's staring without blinking, but... what was that his mom had said again? Buck is an excellent option. She's biased, obviously, but she's not wrong.

He lands himself back by Buck's side, them crowded together as more people arrive. Buck absentmindedly wraps a friendly arm around Gelly's shoulders. He's strong enough that he doesn't even seem to notice when Gelly leans into him; Buck just shifts his weight slightly to brace for it. The first true spark of attraction starts to burn in Gelly at that reaction; he's not sure why that's the thing that does it - maybe the easy strength, maybe the unthinkingly generous responsiveness, maybe just something ineffable altogether. But the attraction is here and it's real and Gelly already feels it starting to grow.

Okay, Gelly thinks. He's not sure what he's agreeing to - maybe to his mom, maybe to the universe, for putting Buck right in front of him. There's a symmetry to it. He and Lucy always doing the same thing. On multiple levels, the idea of this just feels right.

Maybe it's ironic that he's thinking this just as the prickles start needling up and down his spine. Gelly's gaze snaps up, and he casts looks around, trying to figure out what triggered his fight or flight reflex.

Lucy, still by the barbecue, still next to Dan, but staring straight at him. A small frown on her face. The slight widening of her eyes as her eyes shift, micro-expression style, from Gelly to Buck and back again. Hostile suspicion dawning in her gaze. Gelly shifts ever so slightly closer to Buck and watches his little sister's eyes narrow.

He slowly, deliberately, wraps his arm around Buck's waist. Lucy shakes her head at him, very slowly, mouthing an emphatic No. But Gelly is feeling the smug certainty of every sibling who has their mom on their side, as he gives Lucy a slow smile back.

[sergle]

the threshold has been crossed, it is now springtime!!

[odoraful]

𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒

even in their relationship with you, they still have their moments of jealousy every now and again

⟡ content: zayne/sylus/xavier/rafayel x gn!reader; established relationship; luke & kieran appearance in sylus’ scene; new receptionist in zayne's scene; andrew appearance in xavier's scene; a little silly and a lot fluffy; 0.8–1k words per scene

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ZAYNE ⟡

Every situation requires an assessment to determine the most logical course of action. Zayne embodied this statement in his work, and even in parts of his relationship with you. One such part was when it came to jealousy. In all his assessments, 99% of the time, there was no threat, and, therefore, no intervention required. In any case, if a guy were to approach you in such a way, he trusted you entirely as well to not entertain him. However, as he opened his office door to call you from the waiting room, he was confronted by that 1%.

The new receptionist hired to work alongside Yvonne was young, charming, and far too friendly. Especially towards you. You stopped by quite regularly. Sometimes for your scheduled check-in appointments, and oftentimes to simply visit Zayne during his downtime. That was enough for the young man to recognise you, his energy ignited by your presence.

Zayne could only see your side profile as you stood by the receptionist desk, engaged in a conversation with the young man. You appeared to be all smiles with him today. Whatever story he was telling seemed to be so thrilling. Zayne’s face remained calm, aside from the twitch of his jaw when he clenched his teeth. If anybody had been watching, they would have likely jumped at such a sign of vexation by the cardiac surgeon.

Until that point, he thought he had known what jealousy was. He had read it in books and seen it in TV shows, all of which portrayed jealousy leading to several outbursts and stand-offs. However, as he felt something rising from the pit of his stomach and burning in his chest, he understood that the purest kind of it now flared inside him. It was a dangerous emotion that clouded his mind and, before he knew it, his feet had carried him right to your side.

Mr. Chatterbox regarded Zayne with disbelief at his approach, standing up to properly greet him.

“Doc! What a rare sight seeing you personally greet a patient at the desk.”

Zayne paid only a cursory glance and the slightest nod of acknowledgement to him before his attention was narrowed on you.

“If you’d like to come in now, Y/N,” Zayne said, his voice smooth and warm.

You nodded. “Of course.”

As you walked, he placed his hand at the small of your back, pulling you closer to him by just a fraction. He turned his head to the side, enough so the young man could see his sharp eyes. Zayne wasn’t one for outbursts, so he hoped this calculated display was enough of a warning.

Watching Dr. Zayne disappear with you into his office, the receptionist muttered to himself, “Why does it feel chillier in here than before?”

Yvonne, a bystander to everything that just occurred, quietly approached her freshly hired colleague from behind. She delt a swift smack on his head with the edge of her palm. He yelped out in exaggerated pain, rubbing at the spot as if she had just given him a bruise.

“Could you be anymore oblivious…” she sighed, shaking her head. Her gaze then turned fiery as she began to scold, “And how many times have I told you to stop yammering around patients!?”

At the sound of Yvonne’s voice, he immediately redirected his efforts. Not even addressing his colleague’s prior criticism, he clasped his hands together.

“Miss Yvonne! How are you doing on this lovely–”

“Fax this, please,” she interrupted, holding a referral letter up directly to his face.

He gave a mock shiver, taking the paper from Yvonne’s hand. “So cold in this division.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“It seemed like you were making good conversation with our new hire,” Zayne commented, closing the door behind him.

You breathed a laugh. “He’s quite chatty. I guess it’s good to have someone so energetic working at the desk.”

That sensation within Zayne turned molten, though, you couldn’t have known with the coolness of his palm. What would be his intervention here? Maybe he needed to have a stern conversation with the young man, or perhaps he had to be more obvious in his affections towards you. He could never match the energy the receptionist had, so it would be impossible to achieve such a feat.

In his momentary stewing, you let out an uncertain hum.

“To be honest, he kept talking about himself... it was a little overwhelming,” you confessed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “I couldn’t be impolite to him, so I just smiled and nodded at whatever he said!”

Instantly, Zayne’s mind cleared. His jealousies dwindled into nothing more than ashes. A part of him even felt silly at how intense he was feeling just a few seconds ago.

Unexpectedly, he rested his head on your shoulder with a sigh. Your eyes widened with confusion before you chuckled.

“Isn’t this a bit unprofessional, doctor?” you teased.

“Feel free to file a complaint to the hospital’s human resource division,” he retorted, not missing a beat.

Your mirth readily turned into concern at the affectionate display.

“But seriously, Zayne, is everything okay?” you asked, poking at his cheek.

Zayne lifted his head. He seemed to be, surprisingly, relieved. Though, you couldn’t figure out what exactly he would be relieved about.

“Yes, everything is perfect now.”

SYLUS ⟡

There was nothing that a deathly glare or a good shove couldn’t do to resolve Sylus’ jealousy. Warding off any unsuspecting parties was his speciality, especially if it involved them getting too close to you. However, the leader of Onychinus was thrown for a loop when his very own henchmen were sparking these feelings.

“You are… going out with Y/N today?” Sylus spoke slowly, as if sounding out syllables to a baby. “Is what I’m hearing correct, Luke?”

Kieran not-so-subtly kicked Luke in the shin. Luke stifled a groan. Rather than be on their way to Linkon (and to you), they were here being confronted by the boss. It was an unfortunate slip-up from Luke as they were about to leave, which caused Sylus to sternly halt their exit.

“Yes, boss.” Luke replied, trying to stand up straighter with only one good shin.

“And for what reason exactly?” Sylus asked.

Luke resignedly sighed.

“They wanted someone to–”

“Help clean their apartment!” Kieran quickly finished.

He turned and gave a pointed glare to his twin brother. You better follow along, it seemed to threaten.

Luke began nodding profusely, “Yep! Gosh, boss, you wouldn’t even believe the mess!”

“This type of menial work was probably too peasantry for you–”

“So, they invited us instead!”

Sylus’ henchmen stood there, looking quite proud of themselves and their innocent display. Sylus rolled his eyes at their dramatics. Luke and Kieran could do any task Sylus asked, no matter how dirty, and yet they were quite terrible at lying. Maybe he needed to teach them some skills in deception later. He dismissed them sharply with a wave of his hand.

“Go. Make sure to return before I leave this evening.”

The henchmen bowed, preparing to scurry away, but before they could, Sylus spoke again,

“Don’t take your eyes off them for even a second, do you understand?”

They turned back to Sylus and nodded, bowing once again.

“And–”

Sylus’ continual interruption of their exit left them in an awkward position right at the threshold of his office.

“–they don’t enjoy mopping, so I trust one of you will play the gentleman and take up that task.”

“You got it, boss.” Luke and Kieran said in unison before finally departing.

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Sylus was planning on sleeping before your date in the evening, but that was completely out of the question now.

Hanging out with Luke and Kieran? To, supposedly, clean? He knew what they had told him was a lie. However, a small, burning part of him was frustrated. If that had been the truth, he naturally would have been the far better partner. With the time you had shared together, surely you had not so quickly found his own company lacklustre in comparison to his henchmen. He could have been in your apartment, with you, cleaning together. Instead, he was in his mansion, alone, and grumpy. Grumpy enough to open his tablet, and switch to his camera feeds connected to Mephisto.

He had asked if his skilled companion could do a bit of reconnaissance at your apartment to confirm what this ragtag trio were doing. As the camera feed loaded, he saw that your home was empty. Internally, he cursed. Mephisto flew down to street level, and, as luck would have it, three familiar people stepped out of the apartment complex. Luke and Kieran were there (wearing face masks and caps that disguised their faces as opposed to their crow masks) along with you.

Sylus sat up in his bed. 

He followed this trio as they walked to a nearby clothing store. Unfortunately, it would be considered odd for a crow to be indoors, so all Mephisto could do was perch atop a bench in front of the establishment and watch the three of you retreat inside behind the automatic glass doors.

Tossing the tablet aside onto the silk sheets, Sylus crossed him arms. If the thought of not being able to clean with you had made him grumpy, then seeing that he was not invited to shop for clothes with you truly made his blood boil with jealousy. As he attempted to get some rest, he thought about casual ways to mention on this evening’s date how he could rent out entire department stores for you if you wanted.

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Sylus tapped his dress shoes rhythmically against the floor, awaiting your door to be opened after he had rung the bell. He had arrived at exactly 5 o’clock to pick you up, and although he was always well put together, he put in a little extra effort on his hair this time.

He heard the door unlock, slowly opening to only reveal your head poking out. He cocked his head to the side.

“Sweetie, are you trying to hide from me?”  

“Mmm, think of it more like I’m building anticipation,” you explained with a grin on your face.

Sylus laughed fondly. He leaned his own head against the wall beside the doorframe, turning to look at you.

“Consider me sufficiently anticipated,” he replied. “Now, may I see you?”

You gestured for him to move back so you could give a grand reveal.

“I just bought this today.”

The door swung open, and you stepped outside.

“How do I look?”

Very little could surprise Sylus; however, you had utterly blindsided him in this moment. You were wearing a dress that Sylus didn’t recognise from your current wardrobe. He knew then that the outing with Luke and Kieran had been to surprise him with a new dress for your date.

Flowy, ruby fabric draped against your figure, reaching down to your ankles. His eyes followed the heart-shaped neckline that framed the pearl necklace that rested at your collarbones, matching the accessory in your hair. All this prepared just for him.

“You look absolutely radiant,” he breathed.

Closing the distance, he snaked a hand around you, toying with the smooth material under his warm fingertips. Seeing how gorgeous you were almost alleviated his earlier frustrations, until he came to a sour realisation.

“Though, I can’t help but be… annoyed that Luke and Kieran saw this surprise before me.”

You bit your lip. Of course, Sylus had figured out what his henchmen were doing throughout the day. His voice grew deeper as his lips brushed against your ear.

“Next time, kitten, you should invite me to go with you instead.”

XAVIER ⟡

It took very little to spark Xavier’s jealousy, as much as the man himself would want to deny it. Strangers, colleagues, and acquaintances could cause his unassuming appearance to transform into a hostile front if they got too friendly with you. But today was another ordinary workday, so there would surely be no situation where Xavier should feel such a way.

There had been a string of quiet days at the Hunters Association that meant that Team Alpha could finally make use of their office. Namely you and Xavier, who usually were assigned to field missions. Your neglected chair squeaked under your weight as you stretched your body, lifting your arms high into the air then relaxing. Twirling the pen in your hand, the words on page about recent energy fluctuations seemed to swirl in your vision. Xavier turned from his own desk to observe you.

“I’m going to get a drink from the vending machine.” He stood up, the wheels of his chair clattering against the hard floor. “Do you want one too?”

“Green tea, please,” you replied.

“Warm or cold?”

“Cold,” you decided. You clapped your hands against your face, squishing your cheeks. “I need to shock my system to wake it up.”

Xavier’s face broke into a smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”

Before he could walk away, a voice called out your name.

“Morning Y/N!”

Xavier narrowed his eyes slightly at the approaching man.

He was tall (though not as tall as himself), with ashy hair precisely tousled to reveal his forehead, and friendly eyes. Xavier’s senses heightened in the same way as they would in a battle with a Wanderer. The unfamiliar man had greeted you with such familiarity. Only two words had been spoken, yet it was enough to irk Xavier. If he had called you less kindly, that would have helped to lower his guard.

To his surprise, the man turned his attention towards him.

“Ah, you must be Xavier! I’ve heard much about you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Andrew, head of the Data Analysis sector.”

Xavier stared at Andrew’s hand for a moment—blinking and discerning. Head of Data Analysis… Is this some kind of power move? He gave the hand a brusque shake.

“Excuse me, I need to get some drinks for the two of us,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away to the office’s break room.

Andrew furrowed his brows as he watched Xavier leave.

“Quite elusive, isn’t he?”

You shook your head.

“Maybe when you first meet him. But once you get to know him, you’ll see just how reliable he is.”

The tenderness in your tone came unconsciously to you, but it always happened when you spoke about Xavier to others. Especially towards those who might misinterpret his neutral disposition.

Small talk continued over the next minute between you and Andrew, until he suddenly looked at you with a slight frown.

“There’s an eyelash on your face,” he said, pointing vaguely to the left side of your face.

You used your fingers to swipe across your skin, yet Andrew still shook his head.

“No, no. It’s right here.”

He brought his finger closer to show you exactly where it was.

The dull thud of plastic bottles falling to the ground could be heard a couple of metres beside you. A blinding light zipped through the air, alongside a gust of air that swept your hair back. Before you could even register what had caused this phenomenon, Xavier appeared between you and Andrew. Your wide eyes stared at his hand gripping Andrew’s wrist.

“Xavier?” you called in surprise.

Xavier seemed equally shocked at how instinctually he acted. One moment he had seen Andrew’s hand move closer to your face, and the next he was face-to-face with him.

“I-I don’t know what came over me.” He released Andrew from his iron hold. “I'm really sorry”.

With a small bow, Xavier braced himself, ready to receive the full brunt of anger from the Head of Data Analysis. He shuddered at the thought that this might be reported to Captain Jenna. Instead, Andrew shook his head calmly.

“Don’t worry about it.” He gave an understanding smile, observing your worried expression towards Xavier. “In fact, I do believe this was my bad.”

The abandoned green tea bottles rolled lazily beside the desks, and Andrew picked them up. “I’ll be heading off to my office now, I’ll see you two later.”

Handing the drinks to you and Xavier, you both expressed your thanks. As Andrew left, you turned to Xavier.

“Xavier,” you spoke slowly, “what exactly was that?”

He scratched his head and diverted his eyes from you.

“I saw he was getting too close, and my body moved faster than my head…”

It was hard not to react at how adorably guilty he looked.

What am I going to do with you? You thought, sighing in affectionate amusement.

“I know how it must have looked from afar, but there was just an eyelash on my face that Andrew was trying to point out,” you explained.

Again, you swiped a finger across your face. “I still don’t know where it is though.”

Your movements were halted as Xavier gently grasped your wrist. He leaned in close, examining your face. You felt his light touch against your eyelids as he took off the lash.

“You know, there’s a superstition about this,” he began, handing the lash to you.

“They say if you have a stray eyelash, you can use it to make a wish.”

He cleared his throat, the tips of his ears turning red believing his next words to perhaps sound a little childish. 

“So, I wanted to be the one who would give you that wish.”

RAFAYEL ⟡

Rafayel’s jealousy would make itself known to you the moment he felt it. Though he would hide it between clever, teasing remarks, it was cute to see how clingy he got when it happened. And there was no better situation to provoke such feelings than at a gala hosted by Flux Arts. Admittedly, it was difficult to get the artist himself to attend these gatherings that featured one of his own paintings, so Thomas had to devise a convincing reason for him to go. That reason, naturally, being you. If you were his plus one, Rafayel could certainly face any battle.

You stood in front of Rafayel’s painting now as he had left you for the moment to speak with Thomas. Even after being exposed to his work many times (both mid progress and completed) they still managed to instil awe within you.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The voice pulled you back into the room, and you looked over at the stranger beside you. He appeared to be slightly older and was likely a wealthy, enthusiastic patron of the gala.

“Yes, it is,” you agreed. “It’s one of my favourites.”

In truth, you favoured it because you were there when Rafayel painted it. From start to finish, he had you at his side. Though abstract, upon closer inspection, one could extrapolate details of a city with glorious towers and vibrant, thriving coral. It held a special place in your heart.

The man’s eyes were glued to the painting.

“Rafayel truly is an artist you get once in a lifetime.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sincerity in the gentleman’s compliment.

“It’s hypnotising to witness the scenes he creates,” he continued. “He seems to bare his soul in each painting.”

“He is quite an expressive man,” you commented, breathing a small laugh.

From picking out the perfect outfits to the perfect paint materials, passion infused every part of Rafayel’s life, including in his relationship with you. It was one of his greatest traits you adored about him.

The familiarity in your tone was lost on the man, who believed you to only be an admirer of the artist, and not an admirer of a different sort.

The conversation continued, and you discovered the man to be a professor of history. He had discovered Rafayel through his own interest in ancient civilisations such as Lemuria. You couldn’t help but beam with pride listening to the man speak so highly of Rafayel, and the impression his works had left on him. The man soon took his leave, thanking you for entertaining his enthusiastic ramblings.

You were so engrossed that you didn’t notice Rafayel with his arms folding behind you. He graciously gave you a few seconds to detect his presence. Though, his frown grew as you continued to be, supposedly, too starstruck from your earlier conversation with that stranger.

He cleared his throat loudly.

You spun around at the familiar voice.

“Raf! How long have you been standing there for?”

He shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster. However, anyone with two eyes could have guessed the annoyance on his face.

“Enough to hear the last bits of your conversation.” He strode to your side, arms still folded tight across his chest. “Found interesting company so soon after I left?”

You closed the gap between the two of you with a step, preparing to explain the true nature of that conversation. Not letting you interrupt his sulking, Rafayel continued,

“I need to be more wary. There are too many people here wanting to whisk you away from me.”

As soon as you walked into the gallery arm-in-arm, people’s eyes were drawn to the two of you. At his mention that you were the centre of attention, you had dismissed it, saying it was him everyone took interest in.

Tilting your head to the side, you placed your hands your hips, almost as if to say: Are you going to let me speak?

Rafayel quickly conceded, spluttering out his next question, “And why were you being so chummy with that stranger, anyway?”

“That stranger said he was a professor of history specialising in ancient cities, and that he’s been an admirer of your works for a long time,” you answered.

Poking at his cheek with your finger, you attempted to remove his pout that remained affixed on his face.

“I was being chummy because he was complimenting your work! It made me happy to hear that people have such high praise for you and your paintings.”

Rafayel’s pout disappeared.

“It just made me think… how proud I am to have you as my partner,” you smiled. “You leave a profound impression on people.”

Your words resonated in his head. He stood motionless, with only the slow blink of his eyes.

His lack of reaction made you flush.

“Ah, that was pretty cheesy, wasn’t it? I’m sorry–”

The apology stopped short in your throat as you were scooped into a tight hug. Rafayel’s arms wrapped around your waist. A few gala attendees looked over at the young couple with admiring gazes, wondering what could have happened that would cause such open affection.

Rafayel nuzzled his forehead into the curve of your neck, mumbling right by your ear, “Jeez, here I was trying to be jealous…”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

[plumadot]

shy confessions mmmmmmmmmm

[machveil]

I can't resist the siren call

Roommate!Simon Riley that low-key enjoys fucking with your friends Y/N

subtle foreshadowing… I suppose I can dip into my nsfw Roommate!Simon Riley thoughts

Roommate!Simon Riley who shares a laundry bin with you, it had been agreed a long time ago that just doing a big load would be easier. you takes turns, knowingly stealing each other’s clothes every couple days when the laundry is fresh out the machine. you know Simon took an oversized t-shirt you owned, but that’s okay, you took his favorite gym hoodie

Roommate!Simon Riley who doesn’t get embarrassed about his underwear being in the bin with yours, it’s all going in the machine anyways. that doesn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow though when his favorite boxers go missing. he was sure he put them in with the dirties, well, the cleans now. he figures the machine ate it, or maybe they’ll show up some day by chance - he shrugs it off and separates his clothes from yours, snagging one of your oversized sweaters to lounge in later

Roommate!Simon Riley who freezes when he sees you on the couch that night. eyes wide and jaw slack, he can’t bring himself to move. sat watching something on the tv - he can’t be bothered to acknowledge whats playing - he stares at you, wearing his boxers as shorts. “Hey, come watch this— I’ll catch you up since it just started. I’m not pausing it though so you better pay attention.”, your words are all in one ear and out the other. suddenly his legs are moving on their own, stopping in front of you. he doesn’t register what you’re saying, telling him to move because you can’t see the tv, but then he speaks

Roommate!Simon Riley whose voice is deliciously deep, a little raspy from how his throat suddenly feels dry, “S’that mine?”, he asks, eyeing his boxers. he’s never had such a hard time swallowing before, heartbeat erratic as you casually respond, “Huh— oh, yeah. They’re really comfy, the fabrics nice.”. fabrics nice, yeah, he knows. “You— ya know those are boxers, right love?”, he asks, hands twitchy as you reply, “Mhm, just borrowin’ them.”

CW: guilty wank, man is hopeless [kisses his cheek]

Roommate!Simon Riley who’s a mess after that interaction. you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, but he’s losing it on the inside. he’s seen you be audacious with stealing his clothes before, taking his loose-fit tank tops that left little to the imagination on you, stealing clothes you knew he favored and parading around in them, but his boxers? that had him stalking back to his room, quick to turn on his heel before you could see his pants tent

he’s sweating, closes the door to his room a little harder than he meant to. god, he wants to go back out there and see you again, get an eyeful of how comfortable you looked - wearing his boxers like they were yours. you wouldn’t know, and he can’t help but think about it, but you had stolen his favorite pair. they’re plain, a simple black pair, something he bought at the store because he needed new underwear. but when you wear them? they suddenly looked different, makes his heart hammer against his chest. it feels like he walked out into the living room and you wearing lingerie, not something he got for fifteen pounds

he feels a little guilty, shoving his jeans down his thighs as he sits down on his bed. you’re home, sat in the living room just down the hall, and here’s Simon fishing his leaky cock out of his underwear. he really shouldn’t, he should sneak into the bathroom for a cold shower, think about war and blood and bullets to get his boner down. but he isn’t, he’s spitting into his palm and groaning, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth - he’s never been good about keeping quiet. it’s not his fault you were out there wearing his clothes, you were the one that decided to look so— so cozy and content in your makeshift shorts. domestic

when that word settles at the forefront of his brain Simon’s hips jerk, you looked domestic, wanting to watch some show with him. his leg jolts slightly, hand moving to shallowly pump his weeping head. maybe your friends are right, Simon does take care of you - could bend you over and make you sob his name - he’s basically your boyfriend, often mistaken for your husband. his thighs tense when he imagines a ring on your finger— no, his dog tags hanging from your neck— god, holding you at night as an actual couple—

he’s choking out a moan, muffled and hoarse, as he coats his hand. eyes fluttering shut and breathing heavily, all his thoughts fly out the window as his cum drips down his fingers - all his thoughts except for one. he’s going to have to go back out there later to eat dinner with you, and oh, fuck, he sucks in a deep breath as he chubs up again

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Pizza sim’s plot is just the Afton’s fighting

[setaflow]

Anyway I had fun this season

[hinamie]

bunch of portraits

[innoctemastra]

X-Men renascence means cherik has reentered my brain.

The break was for sure longer than just one game of chess.

[portalmonsterrr]

Jiaoqiu was biologically engineered in a lab to appeal specifically to me

[leftneb]

williams really said "guys we're gonna test out the scientific method. if we do the same thing (putting an unprepared rookie in an F1 car) twice and we observe the results: we'll find out if we really put Logan Sargeant's career in an early grave or not! stay tuned to find out what happens to this poor F2 driver with another whole career ahead of him! we might just ruin that too!" like hm yeah why WOULD we try to learn from our mistakes? might as well test a theory. for the good of the sport. jesus christ

[skitastc]

Brownies❤

Ink!sans by Comyet

Palette Roller by angeutblogo

Paperjam by 7goodangel

Undertop!Gaster by stylincheetah