#how am i supposed to know something like that

[fastandcarlos]

Paddock Naps : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: when you and charles fall asleep in the paddock, team ferrari are on hand to tease you both about it

The weekend was weighing down on Charles as he tucked himself up into your side at the back of the garage, feeling his eyes immediately shut. Your arm wrapped around Charles as he made himself comfortable, resting your head on top of his as you soon found yourself drifting off into a dream as well. 

You weren’t quite sure how long you slept for, unaware of the members of the team who kept walking past you, smiling down at how adorable the two of you looked curled up together.  

Several of them made sure to take pictures too, knowing they could get Charles with it later. 

As Carlos arrived where you were with Fred, they both decided to take a seat, glancing across at you both. “Do you think if we had the team meeting here, he’d wake up and realise?” Fred asked him. 

“He looks like he’s in a happy dream,” Carlos commented, as he noticed the faint smile on Charles’ face. “He’s as useful asleep as he is awake in a team meeting though.” 

Carlos leant forwards as he pulled his phone out from his back pocket, leaning closer towards you both. As he went to open his camera, the phone slipped out of his hands and went crashing to the ground, the sound making you flinch as your eyes opened. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Carlos hurriedly said, reaching down to pick up his phone. 

“It’s fine,” you whispered, rubbing the sleep from out of your eyes. “I didn’t realise that I drifted off, I was just going to sit here whilst Charles had a rest.” 

To your side Charles was still fast asleep, unaware of anything that was going on around him. As your eyes glanced down you had to bite down on your bottom lip to hold back your laughter as you noticed his lips slightly parted from where he was heavy breathing. 

Your hand reached across and brushed his hair back out of his face, your touch nice and gentle to make sure that you didn’t disturb him. 

“Has he missed much?” You asked Carlos, stretching your legs out as you tried to wake them up again. “He said something about a meeting but I don’t know when it was.” 

“Don’t worry, you’ve not missed anything. We can just let the precious baby sleep for a little while longer.” 

Your head shook as Carlos sent you a grin, unable to stop himself from teasing him. As you spoke, Charles began to stir, but his eyes remained shut, blocking out the noise from around the garage. 

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” you warned, knowing exactly what Charles would do if he knew what the two of you said about him when he wasn’t listening.  

A groan came from beside you, “what am I not supposed to hear someone say?” 

Slowly, Charles began to sit himself up, stretching his arms up into the air. His smile faded as he noticed and Carlos both looking at them, heads shaking at the sigh that he let go of before dropping back down into your side again. 

“Morning princess,” Carlos joked, feeling Charles’ eyes narrow in on him. “Nothing like a nap at work to get you through the day, right?” 

Charles’ eyes flickered around, a gulp running down his throat as he realised where the three of you were sat, hidden away at the back of the garage with the rest of the team working around you. 

“Of all the places to sleep, a noisy car garage is where you choose,” Carlos added, smirking at Charles as he buried his head into your neck, hiding away from it all. 

Charles stirred once again as he sat himself up, smiling across at you. As a couple of engineers passed by, they smiled across at Charles, his smile in reply innocent and unaware of the photos that had been taken of him.  

“I hope you know what you’ve just put your poor girlfriend to having to have your weight resting on her for the past hour,” Carlos warned him, pointing across in your direction. 

Charles muttered an apology across at you, but you shook him off, assuring him that you didn’t mind. Knowing that he was resting was the most important thing for you at least. 

“At least you’re awake for your meeting,” you smiled across at him. 

Charles threw his head back, “I was hoping I might’ve slept through and missed that thing.” 

“Fred isn’t that nice,” you joked, nudging Charles’ side. “Plus, meetings are quite important for the races, remember?” 

Charles’ eyes rolled as you stood up from where you were sat, extending your hand out for Charles to take so that he could stand up and get moving too.  

“Do you think many people saw us?” Charles whispered into your ear as Carlos went ahead of you. 

Judging by the looks on the teams’ faces you already knew the answer, slowly nodding your head in response to Charles as another groan escaped him. 

“I think you might want to show your face in as few places around the garage as possible this weekend,” you told him, “but if this was Carlos, you’d be the exact same, you two are as bad as each other sometimes.” 

Charles went to reply but another yawn came from him, still exhausted and wishing that he could just go back and rest at the hotel with you. 

“You’re not much good driving your car if you keep yawning.” 

“I’m just knackered, I don’t know what to do.” 

Your hand rested against Charles’ shoulder, understanding just how tired he was. It had been a long couple of weeks of racing nonstop leaving Charles on the go wondering when he might finally be able to get some rest. 

The only bonus of it all was that you were there travelling with him, offering your services as his personal pillow whenever he needed it, giving him some time to forget about the stress of the race for a little while. 

“We’ll be able to head home soon,” you reminded him, straightening out Charles’ top for him. “Two more days of racing and then we’ll be free.” 

Charles’ smile slowly turned up, “I can’t wait to sleep in our own bed again and just cuddle, forget about work for a little while.” 

The comfort of being able to go home soon was the only thing keeping Charles going, he wasn’t quite sure how he ever used to get through triple headers without you if he was honest, relying on you to keep him motivated and as well rested as you could. 

“Don’t go sleeping during your meeting,” you joked as you stopped outside of the team room door. You stretched up onto your tiptoes and placed a kiss on Charles’ cheek, feeling him pull you back towards him though as you tried to pull back away. 

Your head shook as the door opened to reveal Fred, hand on his waist as he waited for Charles to enter. You already knew he was late as he sleepily made his way up to the room, with the rest of the team glancing across at him expectantly through the doorway. 

His sad eyes looked across at you, “wait for me until I’m done,” Charles asked you, “I might need another nap after listening to these guys bang on for an hour.” 

“I’ll be right here, promise.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[rafelandia]

In the Middle of the Night (Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, little bit of cum play, unprotected sex

Summary: Rafe can't sleep. Luckily, the antidote to his ailment is laying in bed right next to him.

Author's Note: I can't stop thinking about Rafe waking Y/N up in the middle of the night for sex. I am addicted to the trope of Rafe being an asshole to everyone except his girl, but this is more of a soft!Rafe moment than anything. If you enjoy, please give a like or reblog. And any requests for blurbs/one shots/etc. are always welcome in my inbox!

Before Y/N came along, there were many ways in which Rafe would conquer the restlessness that crept up on him in the middle of the night. He would go for a run on the beach with nothing but the moonlight to guide him, hunker down in his home office and crunch numbers, read a few chapters in his current favorite non-fiction. There were dozens of outlets Rafe had conditioned himself to do when he just couldn’t fall asleep despite knowing that he should. He was older now and staying up all night like he would as a teenager just wasn’t good for him in any capacity anymore.

All of these outlets, but they suddenly went out of the window when he met Y/N. She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with or even met before, but he supposed that’s how it always was when you were in love with someone. He swore he could stare at her features for forever, that she was more intoxicating than any substance or drink. But looking at her in the glimmering moonlight that shone through the cracked shades was not what put him to bed whenever that frustrating feeling of not being able to close his eyes came insidiously creeping into his head.

There was something about the way her hair was mussed about her head like a halo around her pillow, or maybe it was the way that she was sleeping on her stomach so that the swell of her breast peaked through the comforter. Either way, Rafe couldn’t help but feel his boxers growing tighter the longer he traced his eyes over the shape of her sleeping body next to his.

He slid his body over towards her, turning her and wrapping his arms around her body so that his front was flush with her backside. Warmth radiated from her sleeping form and his hands found their way to her breasts. Rafe began gently kneading them in aim to draw her from her slumber, but the most he got out of her was a shift in her bum on the mattress. A low rumble escaped from his chest at the way she unknowingly ground herself against his cock.

His next attempt was to go for her neck. Rafe always teased her for being so sensitive there but at the same time, there was nothing more that he loved than feeling her turn to putty in his hands when his lips roamed about the column of her throat. He started nipping at her skin with his plush, pink lips, just barely meeting his skin with hers. Goosebumps raised in response to his touch as his kisses grew sloppier. It was when he’d hit her sweet spot with his tongue that he heard the sound he’d been searching for. Rafe swears he’s never heard anything more heavenly in his entire life, that soft, half-moan half-groan that fell from her parted lips. It brought his neediness to the forefront.

“Baby,” Rafe grumbled against the crook of her neck, tickling her with his outgrown stubble.

Amidst her hazy state she was able to hum back at him, though it sounded once more like a broken moan.

“Need you to wake up,” he hoarsely whispered as he began working himself against her backside, slowly but surely rutting his hips into the skin of her bum to ease some of the tension that had built up in his cock.

He couldn’t see the way the corners of her lips turned up knowingly. She was no stranger to this Rafe, the Rafe that woke her in the middle of the night with an itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch. It was almost comical to her, the way that he’d do just about everything in the book besides coming right out and telling her that he was in the mood. Sometimes, she’d tease him and pretend to be asleep longer than she actually was before turning over and giving him what he wanted, but not tonight. Unbeknownst to Rafe, he had stirred her from quite the dream, so there was no need to dance around the ledge this time.

With a sigh, she resituated herself in the bed, turning in Rafe's arms so that their faces sat mere inches from each other.

“Hi,” she sang through her sleep-ridden voice.

“Hi,” Rafe repeated back to her in the same groggy tone. "Can't sleep?" she asked, a tinge of playfulness in her voice.

He gave no response - just a lazy smirk in return. Even in the darkness, Y/N noticed a flush rising up his neck and cheeks. He'd been caught.

“Need some help?” she quirked her brow and gestured downwards to the tent in his boxers.

“Maybe,” he answered with a sleepy chuckle.

She knocked him on his back so that she was straddling his waist and sitting on his now painfully hard cock; the feathered duvet now pooled at their knees. Rafe hissed at the commotion, but the feeling soon turned to bliss when her hands snuck into the waistband of his boxers and she took his length in her fingers. It felt heavy in her grip as she smeared the silky beads of precum along his tip, coating him in preparation to make home within her tight, warm walls.

“I was dreamin’ about you,” she spoke lowly as she gently twisted her wrist around his cock, reveling in the way Rafe's brows were furrowing together in response to her touch.

“Yeah?” he jested.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “We were kinda like how we are now. But this is much better,” she finished with a tantilizing pump of her hand.

Rafe's hips jutted into her fist, wanting more than just her teasing touches. It almost made her laugh aloud, how needy he could be in the middle of the night like this. She wanted him just as much, only due to her still-drowsy state, she was able to control it.

She leaned down and laid her body flush with Rafe's as she kissed him for the first time since he’d woke her. They tasted of the remnants of their minty toothpaste and mostly of morning breath, but that was the furthest thing from their minds. Rafe held her close to him as his tongue slipped between her lips, aching to get her going as quickly as he could. His arms slid under the ratty Kildare High School t-shirt of his that she slept in so he could lift it off of her frame, breaking the kiss for only a fraction of a second before they were intertwined again.

Once her chest was free of clothing, Rafe ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and spine, chilling her skin with his cold hands. He ducked his head down to kiss the center of her chest and then outwards to her wrap his plump lips around her erect nipples. Those velvety, smooth sighs of hers turned into the moans that Rafe adored oh-so dearly. Y/N began to feel the wetness from her core pool at the front of her panties. One of her hands cradled his neck, snugly but not tightly as she kissed him, but she was able to move the other down to grip his cock in her digits once more.

“Y/N," Rafe pleaded, his hazy, hungry eyes peering up at her. He needed her to do something, anything before he lost his whits.

She locked eyes with Rafe as she sank down slowly, splitting herself on top of him. Rafe always swore that the way the wrinkle between her brows reared itself and her lips parted just slightly when she first felt his cock first enter her was by far his favorite face of hers. Well, his second favorite, apart from the face she made when she came, he supposed. He gripped onto her hips tightly as she lowered herself fully onto him, exhaling a sigh of relief when she made it all of the way down to the base of his cock.

They soon found their rhythm, Y/n bouncing and rolling her hips against his while they chased their highs. Her early morning sensitivity caused her to melt in Rafe's arms with the way his tip was able to brush against all of the sweetest spots that made her eyes roll back into her head and a shiver run down her spine.

All that was heard in the otherwise silent room were sounds of wet skin meeting harshly each time she pushed herself back onto Rafe. Their lips chased each other in between thrusts, eager to be as close to each other as they possibly could. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back and in the grooves of Rafe's toned stomach, the two of them yearning to reach their ends.

Y/n's bouncing soon turned to lazy, barely motivated rocking as she found herself almost physically unable to continue. The tendons in her thighs were screaming for relief and the heat that surrounded her made her feel like she was trapped in a sauna. She could feel herself right there, right on the brink of getting to where she needed to be, but she was growing frustrated that she wouldn't be able to get them both there on her own.

“Rafe,” Y/N whined as she gripped both of Rafe's shoulders tightly, knuckles growing white from the hold she had on them.

He sensed her weariness, but he was waiting to see how long it would take her to beg for him to take control of the two of them.

She raised her eyes from being buried in Rafe's neck to look at him.

“Please,” she moaned.

“I've got you, baby,” he huffed, barely able to spit the words out between each manual breath.

With one fluid motion, he had her flipped over onto her back and plunged back into her soaking cunt once more. Y/N cried out at the new angle of Rafe on top of her, watching his dainty, silver chain dangle inches away from her face.

“Gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that," Rafe muttered into her ear as he mouthed against her neck, “You gonna cum for me first though. Right angel?”

He continued to drill his cock into her heat, each time brushing against the spongey part of her walls that made her thighs shake and reflexively want to close. Rafe caught wind of her trembling and forced her legs open with one of his strong, veiny hands, pressing it even deeper into her chest with his other arm pressed deep into the mattress to balance his body on top of hers. Their stomachs brushed against each other with every thrust, only adding to the overwhelming sensations that they were both feeling.

“Your pussy's so perfect. Like it was made for me," Rafe moaned. "Gonna fuck you like this every night for the rest of my life."

His words of encouragement took her right back to where she was before, right at the brink of breaking. Her moans went up an octave and Rafe could tell by the way she had started to clench around him that she wasn’t going to last much longer. He knew for certain that with the way that her cunt was so expertly gripping his cock that he wasn’t that far behind her.

"Need you to cum, baby. Need to feel it," Rafe was nearing his breaking point, but knew he couldn't be satisfied without feeling her clench around him first.

Unable to speak due to the way he was pounding into her, Y/N gripped Rafe's shoulders even harder than he was fucking her in response. This made Rafe cockily smile and only pushed him to fuck her more fervently and deeper. His hips would certainly leave light purple bruises on hers come morning.

Her release sprung on her quickly, her walls spasming around Rafe's thick, pulsing cock. Y/N let out a sound akin to a high-pitched whine blended perfectly with a scream - it was so beautiful to him. Her orgasm came so suddenly that it caught Rafe off guard as well; he had but mere moments before he found himself filling her up with his warm, milky seed. It was so sudden and intense that it seeped out from around his cock and onto the plush, silky sheets.

They rode it out together, Rafe pumping into her slower and sloppier than just minutes before. Y/N was becoming overwhelmed with the sensation and he was quick to pick up on it. Rafe pulled out slowly, watching Y/N wince as her now-swollen heat contracted around nothing but emptiness. He ran his fingers along her pussy, collecting her wetness and his cum on his digits before gently pressing the mixture back into her core. She hissed at the feeling of him inside of her again and it made Rafe's dick twitch. He could easily go again, but he knew that she couldn't. It was intoxicating to watch her squirm. Next time he thought to himself. He loved to drive her crazy.

They both laid there, Rafe resting his full weight on top of her while they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeats return back to their resting rate. She twiddled with the clasp of Rafe's chain while he pecked soft kisses on her sweat-slick breast with his lips.

"I love you," Y/N sighed, her eyes beginning to close as she teetered the line of consciousness.

"I love you, too," Rafe was just as exhausted as she was. Finally.

When they regained their bearings, Rafe reached across the bed for the shirt he’d pulled off of her body. With caring hands, he cleaned the two of them, tossing the soiled garment somewhere off into the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbled into her skin as he crawled back into the covers with her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Anytime,” she laughed, still somewhat out of breath.

“But will you please go to sleep now? You have a presentation in the morning and you only wake me up to fuck when you can’t sleep so I’m assuming you’ve been awake this whole time,” she sounded like a parent talking to Rafe, which while he would never admit, he adored.

She felt Rafe's laugh reverberate off her chest and shake her body, to which he then promised her he’d be good and go to bed.

Rafe could go on midnight runs and read as much as he could, but nothing could put him to sleep as easily as this.

[perdvivly]

Not waiting for chance or fate to dictate the terms of how annoying I’m allowed to be on the internet. I am choosing to answer them all now, unasked as I am.

1) This is mildly variable depending on the amount of effort I’m willing to expend. Typically the common theme is no adulterants. No sugar, no milk, no queen of England. If I’m getting fancy with it I’ll make an effort to time the brewing duration, 3mins for a black tea, 5mins for a green tea, 7mins for a herbal tea. But honestly the sort of depression chic I’ve been serving lately has been leaving the bag in and drinking it straight, tannins be damned.

2) Mandarin. Just seems like it’d be the most useful innit. Also, relatively harder to pick up non-magically given my native Englishhood.

3) God. I try not to honestly. No, but seriously, my sleep schedule has been all sorts of out of shape recently. I should work on that. At the moment it varies wildly day to day and depends on my responsibilities the days before and after the sleep. I’ve pulled a couple of all nighters recently and it gets screwy.

4) Maybe atla? I remember really liking it when it came out but not fully understanding the whole plot because I didn’t see it serialised until later. Maybe the simpsons? There’s something to say here about the earnestness of the earlier seasons and seeing a deeply dysfunctional family care about each other in ways they struggle to express—that gets glossed out as the production value rises in the later seasons—that’s like heroin to someone trapped in an irony poisoned world. But maybe that’s cope? Maybe it’s just the show I had the easiest access to as a kid. I guess I didn’t watch a whole bunch of tv or at least not a whole bunch that stuck with me.

5) Summer ez. (Have you seen her baphomet pics? 🥵)

6) In general, I doubt very much that either the optimist or the pessimist considers themselves such. It’s not really the sort of thing that admits of self-diagnosis in that way… Philosophically, the broader question is what? Do I align with Schopenhauer, Voltaire’s Leibniz, or Russel’s Leibniz? I’m not sure the tumblrinas care about the history of philosophy. I guess I’ll say to the extent that Schopenhauer relies on Indian mysticism, which I think is typically underrated, he’s simply mistaken about the world as will and representation. I’ll say that, I’m *not* a Buddhist. I think the doctrine of dukkha misses fundamental aspects of human existence. I’ll say that people have richer inner lives, deeper felt internal experiences, than you might assume from reading their little words on the internet. And that, on the whole, these are good things.

7) I mean, both ideally. Variety is the spice of life. If I had to choose I suppose it would be sunshine. But I’m terribly glad I don’t live in a world where I have to choose.

8) I have the cutest little book marks. My primary two at the moment are the sun and the moon, which I use for main text and end notes respectively. Though, I have been known to dog-ear in my time. I once got yelled at by my aunt for turning the corner of the page on my copy of Harry Potter and the order of the phoenix because it was a first edition and she was under the impression that it may be valuable some day. I was like, come on man, I’m 7. Don’t even piss. <- I didn’t say these things, but I was *like* that.

9) For the longest time I *only* wore steel toe capped boots because I ran myself over with an electric pallet stacker and tore my toenail off and decided I didn’t want that to happen again. I don’t do that anymore because I interact with heavy machinery less than I used to. Now all that matters to me is that they’re waterproof.

10) *My* signature scent like, I produce it? Or like I like it? I guess one of my favourite scents is lavender. But I've been told... Okay, it's important you guys know I do *not* have a yeast infection... I've been told some parts of my body naturally smell like bread, like, that sort of doughy yeasty (I s2g I do *not* (I did not hit her. I did not! oh hi mark)) smell that you get with bread sometimes. Is that what the question was asking?

11) I mean... That's broadly not for me to decide right? Unless the sort of dragons you're imagining have some sort of glamoury illusion magic, which seems plausible. Anyway, do you guys remember in Moby Dick when he goes on this wild tangent about how St. George and The Dragon was acutally about whales? And St. George's horse was actually a walrus or something. What was that about??

Okay, author's note, there's a time skip here. I've been scrolling through lists of dragons in popular culture for a while now and there are a pretty neat and widely varied selection of designs. I'll get back to you on this one.

12) It depends on why I'm writing! If it's a quick note to myself for future reference it'll generally be cursive, if it's an important document that will be read by other people generally it'll be print. If it's time-sensitive it'll be cursive. I remember writing essays for undergrad that I'm sure were totally illegible by the end of them, I think literally just a line on a page with occasional lifts and dips.

13) There is more information on wookieepedia than existed in my philosophy but a few minutes ago. The typology I've discerned is thus: blue - jock, green - nerd, yellow - geek, red - edgelord. And I'm a little bit of all of these, so I think any would be fine. Realistically though, I'm not sure a lightsaber is the best weapon in fantasy space-past-future where spaceships and lasers are common. Like, I'll let it slide because the original trilogy was doing a kirkegaardian faith thing and the prequels were doing a logic doesn't matter it's cool thing, and those are both respectable motivations to leave logistics aside for a bit.

14) Sad

15) Ice skates! I love ice skating!

16) I'm a youngest. I have an older sister, I think I talk about her here from time to time.

17) Well, how I would use it would depend massively on what it was. If the question is which superpower I think is the best then why not ask that? Which superpower would I have has a faint ring of incomprehensibility about it. It's really not clear which counterfactual is under consideration. *If* what?

Anyway, I think time control powers are up there right? Top five at least, easy. Imagine what you could do if you could stop time and sleep whenever you felt like it. I feel King Leerish about the ability to just be well rested. I would do such things, what they are yet I know not.

18) The problem with romantic relationships is that eventually, all of your most interesting clothing will end up in someone else's closet. I think my day-to-day wear tends to be mostly blues, blacks and whites. Not hugely interesting colourwise.

19) Snake, I think, they have fewer demands and I can't really handle any more pressure in my life than I already have. I would hate to be a bad bird mom... I would hate to be a bad snake mom too, but I think it's easier. Typically regarded as easier. I don't know.

20) Okay, so, it's like this right: medieval battle = will probably die. And it's also like this: behind city walls = safe, my friend and lover and confidant. And so, for very obvious reasons, it's gotta be a bow right? Like, I'm standing way out of the action and I'll shoot some arrows long range. But if that's against the spirit of the ask then it's gotta be some kind of polearm, like a halberd or something. Not even close. The advantage you get from distance is hard to overstate. Yeah, polearm for sure.

21) Mint choc chip, it's just such a classic. But also, I had a "london fog" flavour recently that was really compelling. It's just earl grey and vanilla but it's so good.

22) I'm more of a herbs person than a spices person. Like, hmm, I do really enjoy paprika and ginger and stuff like that, don't get me wrong. But it doesn't really hold a candle to the sheer universality of parsley or basil or oregano or mint. Herbs stay winning.

23) These days it's aptos because I am the worlds most basic bitch. And yes, I do still have a fondness for arial.

ask game that tells a lot about you.

how do you take your tea / coffee?

if you could be fluent in any language at the snap of your fingers, which one and why?

when do you wake up?

what was your favourite tv show as a kid?

summer or winter?

realist, optimist, or pessimist?

rain or sunshine?

how do you mark your spot in a book?

what are your favourite shoes like?

what would your non-perfume/cologne signature scent be?

if you were a dragon, what would you look like?

is your handwriting more print, cursive, or a mix?

what colour would your lightsaber be?

what is your defining personality trait?

roller skates or rollerblades or ice skates?

are you an only child? oldest / middle / youngest?

what would your superpower be? how would you use it?

what’s your clothing colour palette?

pet snake or pet bird?

weapon of choice in a medieval battle

the best ice cream flavour

what spices do you always use when cooking?

default font when typing?

[a1ecmcdowell]

all the times mechanic!dean was humbled by bimbo!reader - 18+

★ ˚⋆

dean was convinced, a lot of the time, that not a single coherent thought existed in the white noise of your brain, just accepting that you were one of those girls with a pretty face to her legacy. it wasn't a bad thing. he'd never admit it, but seeing your face light up when he explained something to you was one of his favorite looks on you - the glimmering wide eyes, the o-shaped part of your glossy lips as the pieces clicked into place.

other times, he was floored by the capacity of that pretty little head and the information it held. completely floored. you never said anything with malice either, or chastised him for not thinking in the same way that you did. just stated the things like fact, typing away on your pretty pink iphone with your pretty pink manicured nails, not even looking up to see that you'd taken his breath away.

there were a lot more of these instances than he cared to admit. he was a proud, prideful kind of guy, often convinced that it was his way or the highway.

until you came around.

he'd started a list on his phone, of some of those times, cementing them into a vault of your history. maybe he'd show it to you on your wedding or something cheesy like that, that he knew you would love. or maybe he'd keep it to himself, as to not humble himself further.

when you'd called a car's failing engine a "tummy ache", and that was how he figured out that the cause was the owner putting in the wrong gas.

the first time you talked him into trying on your panties, and he'd tried to deny it heavily, and you'd said, "it's just clothes." and it was so simple but he'd never thought of it like that. like holy shit, yeah, it's just clothes.

when you'd tried to hook up with him at his work, in the backseat of his car no less, and dean desperately tried to keep some semblance of professionalism at his job, and you were like "who's gonna see? no one comes here." and he proceeded to fuck you into the leather with, you guessed it; not a single customer to see the fogged windows and the rattling frame.

you got him to start saying things are cunty and that's not even the humbling part. the fact that he could not fucking stop himself from calling everything cunty when you were around was.

when you'd called the stars "little suns" and now every time he looks at the night sky, he can't help but think if you're looking at the little suns too.

he'd been staying late trying to finish a car and you'd gotten upset and told him "who's gonna need their car this late?" and yeah. who the hell was? he made it home in five minutes and made up for his time away.

he told you that one day he'd take you to meet his family and you called them the witch burners with the straightest face he'd ever seen. yeah. they did do that sometimes. but don't say that to their face.

sometimes his old habits would kick in and he'd start doing everything for you, like he did growing up with sammy, and you remind him every time that you were his baby but not his baby.

he joked that you were baby vers. 2, and you'd said, "you can't call everything you park yourself in baby." he started calling you princess immediately after.

he'd grabbed your hair once when you were bent over during sex and you whirled around so fast he honestly thought you were going to kill him. like there was more fear in his eyes then than there was in some of the hunts he did before he retired.

when you insisted in front of his coworkers that, no, you did not want to drive your car if he was there to tote you around already. like, fuck him, honestly, for not assuming you would want to be chauffeured. he was still living that shit down.

"no, dean, i'm not blowing you right now, this is a chanel lip gloss." right. because he was supposed to know what that meant. "i am not wiping chanel off with a paper towel, dean." tell chanel to get off her fucking high horse, thanks!

he tried to be romantic once and put his hand on your thigh while driving and you glanced down with a pout and said, "your filthy oil hands :(" with that exact sad face. he didn't know how else to convey the utter devastation in his typed list without the fucking emoticon. you'd have thought he ran over your baby or something.

notes, guys ... i fear they are rent free rn. something ab grumpy/sunshine in any form is going to do it for me every time.

tags ( if some of these dont work im gonna run up and down the street butt naked on god ) @titsout4nicholas @deans-yn @dipperscavern @devoursweetly @jasvtsc @panickedbitch @t3l3vangelism @jensenacklesfan69 @manicjk @mkendlic @hischrrypie @deanswidow @figthoughts

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[glypt0don]

So, this is quite a rant. You can skip to the bottom, if you want to know my opinion but don't want to read that much... But I worked hard on it and I think it's important, so it would make me very happy if you read through the whole text.

So this fits into something I wanted to post about anyway: a broader theme of why do we frame things as wars? Like, why is it culture war, specifically. First I liked the concept, I thought it described something quite complicated reasonably easily. But I pondered on it a bit more and I think there's more going on.

It's pretty trivial, that most societies went through a huge change over the last half century. It's not just feminism. I could make a whole list of things we as a people took on. Anti-racism and civil rights, religious acceptance, global trade, reinterpreting the meaning of peace, connecting the word through the world-wide web, etc. We ( or, as I am barely an adult and have no idea how to change things for the better, I should say you, or maybe chat) decided it was time for change, so change came. You brought it about.

And I agree. Change WAS and IS necessary. What that change should entail, well, we all have our ideas, right? And they have the ugly tendency to differ from each other. The question then is, how do we coincide our contradictory ideas on society? The answer is both worrying and very important.

To be fair, our race doesn't have a great track record on solving these kinds of issues. I dug into my historical knowledge, since, you know, those who don't learn from it, repeat it... The only thing I can compare to what's happening today would be the Reformation (which probably says a lot about my historical knowledge). That's the only time I know, where societal assumptions were altered so much in such a short time. That time it was specifically about the Catholic church (if you don't know, what I'm talking about, you really should, so Google it), and the result was a series of wars, that ultimately may have wiped out about a fifth of Europes population. The wars were of course led by powerful men, who capitalised on the divide to further their own goals.

As back then, now too, we can't rely on institutions to tame the public. Many media and political identities have a direct interest in polarising society. Because that's what happens. All these contentious issues about gender, class, or foreign policy become dividing lines between folks who are supposed to be parts of the same whole (call it community, state, nation or humanity, depending on how wide you can think). You know, how it works, probably saw it a few times, whatever your interests are. It's literally everywhere! We fight it out with the perceived enemy of the week sometimes, when there is an election, something notable happens, or it's simply Pride Month. Then everyone goes back to their respective corners, where they vehemently agree with themselves. We don't talk a lot, just throw words at each other, like Buggs Bunny, playing tennis with a dynamite.

I should say, this post is a notable and refreshing outlier. Thanks, @trans-androgyne , for starting a discussion for a change!

I know, it's a bit like nuclear armament. You can't just stop, because THEY won't, and then they win, and you can't allow that. It's life and death! And I don't have some magic pill to make it all go right, or believe me, I wouldn't sit here, typing this out at 3 in the morning Central European Time. But let me propose this: don't call it a war! Neither culture war, nor gender war, nor anything like that. Because this isn't a war. Just ask anyone in the middle east! They can tell you, what is war, and THIS IS NOT IT! And also, because it may not be guns and destruction yet, but nothing guarantees, that it stays that way. We already had multiple attempted takeovers of capital buildings since this cursed decade began, because our social reality became so fragmented, that you can't accept the results of a popular election anymore. That should raise alarm bells. I know it does, but it can be much worse! Learn from history, do not repeat it! Hit the Wiki page on the Huguenot war! On the siege of Magdeburg. Or, if that's not your cup of tea, watch Civil War! I genuinely think it's the best movie of the year.

Call it Social Discourse! That sounds much more manageable, doesn't it? Or you can come up with something else, as long as it isn't some warmongering bullshit. And maybe the next time you meet someone with sexist, homophobic, racist, or maybe radical left and anarchistic views (whatever you're opposing), don't attack them with your words! Those aren't weapons. Try to talk to them instead! Try talking about feelings! Listen to theirs, make them understand yours! I say feelings, because you both have those. Try finding a common ground, however small, and build up from there. Like Minecraft Skyblock. It can be hard in a challenging way, instead of making you want to shoot yourself in the head. Remember, you aren't fighting a war. You are having a discourse.

All of it is to say, the world and society are changing, wether you like it or not, and we have to change with it, to survive. That is the simple fact. If you call that change a war, that's just gonna make the whole thing unnecessarily painful for everyone involved.

This was sociopolitical advice from a giant armadillo.

Genuinely, what happened to “feminism is for everyone”?

That’s the feminism I grew up with: encouraging people to recognize that fighting sexism and restrictive gender roles helps folks of every gender. We’d push back on the idea that feminists hate men, pointing to inclusive feminist literature and how many men are feminists.

Now, there are so many people insisting that the solution to patriarchy is to openly hate and ostracize men no matter what. Why? What is the benefit? It’s certainly not effective in fighting oppressive structures to exclude half the population from your cause on the basis of immutable traits. It may feel cathartic to say horrible things about men and try to punish them for your frustrations with patriarchy. But the only actual effect I see is the increasing right-wing radicalization of young men, who are being told that the left hates them for the way they were born and presented with an abundance of proof that it’s true.

Why are we going back to treating men and women as different species? It doesn’t fix things to say “well women are the good gender and men are the bad one” this time. If you sincerely want to dismantle sexism, you’re going to have to unpack and let go of all sex and gender essentialism—even that which considers women inherently pure and men inherently immoral.

[bambisspeckles]

Stowaway ✿ Poly Pirate!141 x Reader

*pics for aesthetics only!

Summary: You accidentally sneak onto pirate crew 141's ship CW: Inaccurate depiction of pirates, poly!141, fem!reader, ghost and price are kinda assholes (for right now), soap is well soap, gaz is an angel sent from heaven, reader is held captive (ish), stockholm syndrome core but like in the way beauty and the beast is, no romance yet (sorry, but don't worry it won't really be a slowburn), self-edited! WC: 1.8K

It was a mistake, honestly you should have just stayed put. You have no idea why you thought it'd be a good idea to sneak onto any ship, at all, ever.

You suppose this cruel fate is karma for your actions.

It started in the early hours of the morning, when many passenger ships were docked. You had decided to pack a small bag with your most important belongings and sneak into one of the ships cargo holds. In theory it was a good idea, you figured most of the crew we be pretty occupied tending to passengers needs, therefore your chances of getting caught and thrown into the ocean were slim. It's a shame you the ship you decided to board wasn't a passenger ship.

You should have known, it didn't look remotely like a passenger ship. There weren't any nice amenities, only one small dining room, not nearly enough beds for the amount of people that come to and from your island, and there were too many suspicious looking locked chests. There was a voice inside your head screaming for you to get off the ship but the adrenaline being pumped through your body was too high, and the yearning to escape the hell your home brought to you overruled almost all your sense of logic and reasoning. When you found the cargo hold, you didn't even think twice before making your way inside, quickly scanning your surroundings to find the best place to hide. You decide to hide behind some unmarked crates, figuring they'd be bothered the least. You squeeze your body behind the boxes, maneuvering so all of you can be hidden well.

It feels like you're there for days, realistically you know that's not true, but you're so close to leaving this island and never looking back. No matter how tempted you are to bolt, you keep yourself firmly planted behind the crates. Finally, you hear voices, it doesn't seem like there's very many people and that makes your anxiety sky rocket, but it's much too late to sneak off and try to find another ship to become a stowaway in. Pushing your knees further into your chest, you take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. For hours you hear voices and footsteps above you, but no one seems to have any suspicions. In fact it's been so calm the rocking of the ship has your eyes fluttering shut, you've been fighting sleep but nothing has transpired for so long maybe a few minutes of shut eye won't hurt. As your mind battles between alertness and staying asleep you hear something.

Footsteps. Coming down the steps, right into the cargo hold.

Your heart drops into your stomach and your breath hitches. You squeeze your body into itself in an attempt to make it smaller, one of your hands coming to clasp your mouth shut. The footsteps get louder and louder until you see a large figure standing in the archway. You go rigid as you get a better look at him. He's no average sailor, he's a fucking pirate.

"Great." You think wryly. "If he finds me then I really am dead."

He's moving around some boxes, you're not quite sure why, and for a moment you think he has no clue you're there.

Unfortunately for you, that's where you're wrong.

In the blink of an eye he grabs you from behind your crate wall, holding you by the scruff of your neck like a naughty kitten. The look in his eye is dark, and the rest of his face is covered by a mask, a skull print adorning the fabric. He says nothing, only staring at you for a moment before throwing you over his shoulder and walking back up the steps, presumably to bring you to the rest of the crew.

Oh. you're totally fucked now.

The mans footsteps attract the attention of his crew as he walks across the deck, when he stops walking, he practically throws you onto the ground, forcing you to kneel before three other men.

"Wha' a bonnie thing she is… S' what tha' noise was? Was startin' worry I was finally losin' it." A man, Scottish you think, says as he stares at you. His thumb dragging down the side of your face as a devilish smirk graces his lips.

You flinch under his touch and the Scotsman quickly removes his hand but his touch is soon replaced by another, a man much more imposing than he. Rough hands gripping your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Was wonderin' why it sounded like there was a rat down in the cargo," A dark glint flashes through his eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared. "Now tell me, stowaway, wha' the hell are ya doin' on my ship."

Tears well in your eyes as you struggle against his grip, and you can feel his impatience growing as he waits for you to respond. After another moment, the final man turns to speak to you.

"Captain asked ya a question love, best answer him before he gets angry." His voice is surprisingly gentle, and when you meet his gaze, soft brown eyes stare back at you, eyes filled with pity.

The look in his eye breaks you, and fat tears begin rolling down the apples of your cheeks.

"I'm… I'm sorry!" You choke out your words between sobs, your body taut under the piercing gaze of the Captain.

A beat of silence passes before the Captain of the ship releases you from his grip, your body crumbling into itself.

"I didn't know! I didn't- I don't… I just wanted to leave! I promise I didn't take anything a-and you can drop me off at your next stop, just please don't hurt me…" Your words come out watery, your voice hoarse and snot coming out of your nose, ugly sobbing as these men surround you.

The man with the soft brown eyes crouches down next you, his gentle hand wiping tears off your cheeks.

"You poor thing, you're all outta' sorts. M' sure you didn't mean any harm…" He looks towards his Captain but his head is still angled in your direction. "Go easy on her sir, poor thing is trembling."

The Captain scoffs, his arms folding over his chest as he studies you, his gaze scrutinizing, piercing through you.

"She shoulda' thought of that before sneaking onto my ship." He gives you another once over before ordering you to stand on your feet. You figure it's best to do what he says so you rise from the ground, knees almost buckling under you.

The group of men stare at you for a while, seemingly unsure of what to do with you. After a few moments, a deep voice from behind finally speaks, you turn to look at him, his skull mask making your spine tingle with terror.

"We should just throw er' off the ship, no bloody reason to keep the thing around." You wince at the way he refers to you, objectifying, dehumanizing.

"Now, now, Ghost, nae reason tae make such a hasty decision. The kitten's completely harmless! I say we keep er', it'll be so nice to have a bonnie thing on board." The man, Ghost, scoffs.

"We don' need liabilities layin' around Johnny. Sides' got no use for er'. M' sure Price is inclined to agree with me." Ghost turns his head towards Price, presumably waiting for some type of agreeance on what he said.

Before the Captain can even get a word out, he's interjected.

"M' inclined to agree with Soap- for different reasons," He pauses shooting Soap a look, but he merely shrugs back. "But I agree all the same. I mean look at er' poor thing is terrified, I doubt she came to pillage our goods Captain."

Price sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he mulls over his, limited, options. Everyone, including you, waits for him with bated breath. Selfishly, you hope he'll keep you around a bit longer, at least then you'll get a chance to make an escape plan.

Finally, the Captain speaks.

"She can stay, for now. We can keep er' in the cellar until I figure out wha' the hell to do with her." His words carry a tone of finality, a fact that has Ghost scoffing.

"You're jus' pickin' sides cause' Gaz wants to keep er' around." He motions towards the man next to you, bitter venom coming out alongside his words.

Gaz rolls his eyes, blowing out with an irritated sigh.

"Price isn't picking sides, he's doing what's right. Just cause' you don't agree with it doesn't mean that-" Price puts his hand on Gaz's shoulder, interrupting his sentence. A silent way of telling him "settle down."

Gaz relaxes under the Captains touch.

"Gaz, Soap, take er' down to the cellar, we'll keep er' there for now. Ghost, come with me to my quarters." Ghost mumbles something in response, but his words are muffled by his mask, something you're sure he's grateful for at this moment.

You, Soap, and Gaz watch him for a moment as he follows Price like a kicked puppy. When they're finally out of view, Soap and Gaz turn their attention back to you.

"C'mon kitten, yer gonna ave' tae be a bit uncomfortable tonight, the Captain didnae plan for any stowaways.." He chuckles at you playfully, something you'd find much more comforting under different circumstances.

You suddenly feel a hand on your back, the skin a bit rough even through the fabric of your clothes. You whip your head to look behind to see Gaz, his soft brown eyes still filled with that same look of pity. He and Soap begin gently guiding you towards the ships cellar.

"It's alright love, The Captain can be a bit cruel but he won't hurt you. Even pirates have their limits… Besides, I assure you we're not nearly as bad as some of the other pirates out there. We'll get you sorted out in the morning."

You have no reason to trust these men, all you've known is that pirates cause pain and destruction everywhere they go, but the only thing you can do right now is trust them. So, you nod timidly, letting them guide without resistance.

Hopefully you can escape at the next docking place.

[vivwritesfics]

Hey! I would like to request a Jake Seresin x Reader fic (if you don't want to, that's no problem as well :))

I was thinking about Reader meeting Jake for the 1st time at the beach while he was playing dogfight football with the squad. They hit it off and after a few dates they start dating. But the thing is, that Reader's friends don't call him Jake, they call him Lt. Tits. Reader does not correct them because she thinks it's hilarious but she hasn't told him yet.

However, one day, she introduces Jake to her friends and one of them accidentally calls him Lt. Tits. Although they brush it off and change the topic quickly, it's on Jake's mind for a long time.

You can take this in any direction you want to.

P.S bonus points if they pronounce Lieutenant the English way and not the American way lol

Thanks and have a great day/night!

"Oh my god, it's really Lieutenant Tits!"

In her defence, Mallory hadn't meant to say it so loud. It was supposed to be between the two of you, not something for Jake to hear.

Lieutenant Tits. You wanted to die. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole right then and there. Your friends looked equally as embarrassed, but they recovered faster than you, giggling as they looked between you and Jake.

"Huh?" Jake couldn't help but ask as he looked at you, head cocked t the side. "Lieutenant what?"

Don't repeat it. Don't repeat it. Don't repeat it.

"Tits!"

You didn't know who shouted it, but you could have killed them. But, since you didn't know who it was, you levelled them all with a glare. "I hate you all."

Jake's hand was warm on your back. Maybe he was trying to be comforting, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. "Who is Lieutenant Tits?" He asked, but you were almost certain he knew. He wasn't the dumb slut he tried to portray himself as.

You finally looked at him. "Who do you think?"

He pointed at himself and you gave a nod.

Jake stepped closer to you. His hands were on your hips and he held you close as he looked at your friends, wearing that ever charming smile. "So, why am I Lieutenant Tits?" He asked, squeezing your hip gently.

Shit, you really liked this guy.

"Well," Mallory started, grinning. "Miss missy over here-" She pointed at you "- told us about how you two met at the beach. She literally couldn't stop talking about you, but the only part any of us remembered was 'The tits on him!'" She used air quotations for those last four words, watching as your embarrassment grew.

"The name just stuck," Jess continued, shrugging her shoulders. "Every time she went on a date with you, someone would put 'How is Lieutenant Tits?' in the groupchat."

Jake stood up straighter, seemingly puffing out his chest. Proving them right, it looked like.

"Oh my God!" Shouted Harriet. "He really is Lieutenant Tits!"

[jensengirl83]

Pining In The Pines

Dean x reader

Word count-3843

Warnings- Angst, some fluff

Summary- Y/N and the boys have to go on a hunt in her old hometown. She's not happy to go home, and especially not when Dean makes a comment that brings up bad memories. How will she take it? And will Dean be able to make it right?

A/N- This fills my Secret Passageway square for @jacklesversebingo

First, I suck at summaries 😂 Second, this fic is a little self-indulgent. I've written it about where I'm actually from and the stigma about the people in this area. I really hope you like it!

“So, get this,” Sam started the conversation as he looked at his laptop. 

Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled in her chest. It never failed. When he found a hunt, the first words out of his mouth were, ‘So, get this.’ That’s how she and Dean knew to stop and pay attention. He had something they needed to hear. So, she tried to contain her laughter and give Sam the attention he wanted. 

“Y/N…Do you have to laugh every single time?” Sam groaned but didn’t wait for a response, continuing with what he wanted to say, “There’s supposedly been a Wendigo spotted in Morehead, Kentucky. Homeowners caught it on their security camera for their driveway.”

“Morehead…Isn’t that close to where you grew up, sweetheart?” Dean wondered, looking over at the huntress beside him. 

“It’s a few counties over, but yeah, it’s close enough. Did you say there was footage?” she questioned, leaning forward to look at Sam’s laptop as he spun it around for her and Dean to see. 

Her breath caught in her throat as Dean put his hand on her lower back as he leaned forward to watch the video. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had fallen in love with the eldest Winchester. But how was she supposed to be around him, living in the bunker with him, and not fall head over heels? 

It was true that he had a temper, could be a real grump, and be downright mean sometimes. But, over the years, she’d learned that his temper flared most when someone he cared about was in danger. He would be grumpy when the weight of the world had gotten almost too heavy to bear, and he tried to push it down and keep it bottled up. He was mean when he thought he needed to push someone he cared about away because he was the one putting them in danger. To her, that was just the sign of a man who had been hurt, a man who loved deeply, one who cared so much that the thought of losing someone he loved was unbearable. So, how was she not going to fall for him at some point? 

But that’s as far as it went. She would never admit her feelings. She couldn’t. The likely rejection would be her end, and she would have to leave the bunker. She’d rather pine for him in tortuous silence than not have him in her life at all. So, as always, she shoved her feelings back down, focusing on the screen in front of her, and prepared for the hunt she knew was coming. 

“Earth to Y/N,” Dean nudged her, clearly seeing she was in her own little world. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m watching,” she rolled her eyes, trying to hide that she was fantasizing about the green-eyed Adonis. 

“Where was that pretty little head of yours?” he teased, his words making her heart ache. If only he really thought that way. 

“Just thinking of what I’ll need to pack. ‘Cause we’re clearly going to Kentucky, am I right?” she lied, hoping they would buy it. 

“Yeah, we have to check this out. I’ve never heard of a Wendigo this far east before,” Sam answered, getting Dean’s attention away from her. Thank Chuck. 

“There’s a lot of things in the Appalachian mountains that no one knows about. Trust me, you don’t want to be caught in those woods alone after dark,” she shivered at the thought. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark?” Dean tried to tease, but she gave him a stern look that made him think twice. 

“You should know that I’m not scared of the dark. I follow you into some of the darkest, creepiest places on earth. But, I grew up there, Dean. It’s not even just the monsters you have to worry about. I mean, there are bears, mountain lions, wolves…” she trailed off, not wanting to mention some of the crazy people that live in those mountains. 

“Okay, okay,” Dean huffed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, “I get it.” 

“You better. You have to keep your head on a swivel while we’re in the woods. I’d hate to have to save your sorry ass from the real-life Yogi Bear,” she winked, “Because your ass will be the picnic basket.” 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, annoyed at her sarcasm as Sam laughed. Even though she was crazy in love with him, she could give him shit right back. And to be honest, she thoroughly enjoyed frustrating him. As she saw it, it was payback for him making her love him in the first place. She continued to chuckle as she went to her room to pack. Y/N didn’t like the thought of going home. Too many memories she’d like to forget. But duty calls, so she was packing her bags for the long drive to southeast Kentucky. 

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

“I highly doubt there’s a Wendigo here. They don’t stay in the wide-open woods,” Dean complained while trekking through the mountains. 

“Dean, do you not know anything about the topography of Kentucky?” Y/N asked, shaking her head in annoyance. He’d been in a mood all day. 

“Yes, sweetheart. I spend all my free time studying the layout of a state I rarely ever visit,” his sarcasm made her want to smack him in the head. 

“Well, dear,” she said just as sarcastically, “Kentucky is known for its underground cave systems. You know, Mammoth Cave. One of the biggest cave systems in the world…”  

“Of course! Because spelunking is high on my to-do list!” 

“Oh! Look at him, Sam. He’s using big boy words like spelunking. I’m so proud of you, Dean!” she half shouted at him. Trying to keep her voice down so as not to attract unwanted attention to whatever was out there. 

“Guys! Knock it off. We’re here to kill a Wendigo. Not for you two to kill each other!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. 

“She started it,” Dean whined, acting like a child. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” she growled as she walked ahead of them. Leading them to the caves she knew were close. 

Y/N ignored the bickering between the brothers behind her as she made her way through the trees. She loved Dean, but today, she thought about leaving him in one of the caves they found. He’d been an ass since they woke up at the motel, and she couldn’t figure out what had his boxers in a bunch. They’d had to share a bed, but she didn’t think he’d be that pissed about that, but she wouldn’t put anything past him at that point. But, whatever it was, it tempted her to make him Wendigo lunch. 

“Slow down, Y/N. We’re not born and raised hillbillies like you are. It’s taking us a little longer to navigate this hellscape,” Dean yelled, grumbling under his breath about her getting too far ahead. 

Y/N froze. That was the last straw. Yes, she’d been born and raised in the area, but that word…Hillbilly. She’d been trying to get rid of that stigma since she left the mountains, and now hearing Dean, the man she loved, call her that derogatory term was too much to take. 

“Let me tell you something, asshole! Yeah, I grew up here, but I’m not a fucking hillbilly! I’ll have you know not everyone who lives in Appalachia are backwoods, uneducated, rednecks! So, take that term, and shove it straight up your ass!” she screamed, her anger boiling over into dangerous territory. 

Before either of the boys could say a word, a guttural, terrifying growl tore through the darkening woods. Y/N spun around to see what they’d been there to find. The Wendgio was only about thirty feet behind her, moving in quickly. Sam shouted for her to get behind him, breaking her out of her stupor. Once she’d cleared his line of sight, Sam grabbed his homemade flamethrower, flicking his lighter to ignite it, but nothing happened. He tried again but to no avail. Y/N’s screams tore through the night air…

“Run! Follow me!” 

The boys were quick at her heels as she weaved them in and out of the trees and underbrush. Dean couldn’t help but think about how impressed he was at her agility in that terrain. He could tell she’d grown up here and knew her way around, which brought him to his next thought. How guilty he felt for saying what he had. But now was not the time to apologize. Right now, he had to concentrate on not losing sight of her and getting shredded to pieces by the monster on their tails.  

“Here! Guys, hurry!” she shouted, an old moonshining cabin in her sight. 

Once she reached the cabin, she flung open the door, waiting for the boys to enter before slamming it shut, silently praying that the rickety lock would hold just long enough to devise a plan. 

“What the hell happened back there?” Dean asked, hands on his knees as he panted for breath. 

“I don’t know! The flamethrower has never not worked before,” Sam answered with the same labored breathing as his brother. 

“Well, we can figure that out later. Now, we need to figure out how to stay alive!” Y/N yelled, panic starting to set in. 

“Calm down, sweetheart. We’ll be okay,” Dean tried to calm her down, but she was still too angry with him. 

“Don’t! Do not ‘sweetheart’ me! You had no right to talk to me like that!” 

“Look, swe- Y/N, I’m sorry. But I don’t understand why that made you so mad,” Dean spoke as he looked around the cabin for something to use as a makeshift weapon. 

“That was a shit apology, Winchester. Just…just don’t speak to me until we get out of this mess,” she groaned, then mumbled, “If we live through this mess.” 

“Hey!” Dean shouted, getting her attention, “We are getting out of this. Don’t talk like that.” 

“Can you tell me how you plan to get us out of here? Cause I don’t see another way out except through the door that Wendigo is now trying to beat down!” 

As she walked toward Dean, her foot almost went through the floor, or at least it felt like it. She stopped, pushing down with her foot one more time. The bounce under her foot had her laughing loudly, and the boys looked at her like she’d lost her mind. Dean spoke as she started to rip the rug she stood on out of the way. 

“Care to tell us what you find so funny?” 

“This!” she continued to laugh in relief as she pointed to the hatch in the floor where she’d been standing, “It’s our way out!” 

“How do you know that? It could be just an old cellar,” Sam asked, walking over to inspect what she’d found. 

“Well, as Dean so nicely put it, us hillbillies would dig secret passageways to transport the moonshine back and forth without the police seeing them. They almost always lead to an abandoned coal mine or cave opening. Sometimes other cabins.” 

“Y/N, come on, I tried to apologize. I didn’t know it would upset you that much,” Dean threw his hands up in exasperation. 

“Well, it did, and…” she started to argue when Sam interrupted them. 

“Maybe you two can finish this fight once we know we’re not going to die? Let’s go!” 

Y/N and Dean simultaneously rolled their eyes. Sam would have told them they were two peas in a pod if they weren’t in such a hurry to save their asses. Y/N was the first one down the ladder, explaining that she’d be their best bet for not getting completely lost underground, and neither brother disagreed. Dean followed, with Sam on his heels. Once they were underground, Y/N led the way, and the boys were impressed with how well she could get around in the tunnels. 

After what seemed like a lifetime, Dean was going to ask if she really knew where she was going, but before he could open his mouth, they turned a corner and could see a light up ahead in the tunnel's ceiling. Y/N was climbing the ladder through another hatch before Dean knew what was happening. Maybe her nickname should be Squirrel instead of him, he chuckled to himself. As the last brother made it out of the tunnel and into another cabin, Y/N slammed the hatch, pushing an old, heavy piece of furniture over it. Luckily, this one was still quite furnished, with beds still in the bedrooms and an old couch in front of a fireplace. 

“This is home until morning,” she stated, looking around, finding, albeit dusty, pillows and blankets in a closet.

“Better than nothing,” Sam shrugged, walking into one of the bedrooms and shutting the door, leaving only one bedroom for her and Dean. 

“Looks like we’re sharing again, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Nah, take the bed. I’ll take the couch,” she whispered, not looking at him. Damn, she was still mad. 

“I’m not taking a bed and putting you on an old debilitated couch, Y/N.” 

“It’s fine. My adrenaline is still too high to sleep. Besides, I’ll keep watch so you can get some rest. You have to drive us back to the bunker tomorrow. I can sleep in the car.” 

“Y/N…” 

“No, Dean, it’s fine. Please, just take the bed. I’m too tired to argue,” she almost begged, wanting to be alone. 

“I thought you said you weren’t tired?” he smirked, trying to joke, but she wasn’t having it. 

“I’m mentally exhausted. I just need time to myself to wind down. Now, please, go get some sleep so we can get the hell out of here in the morning,” she pleaded, the look on her face breaking his heart. He had really hurt her with what he said. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Good night,” he said dejectedly, knowing it would be a sleepless night. His guilt would make sure of it. 

“Night,” she replied, turning her back to him, sitting down on the couch, staring out the window, never glancing his way. The click of the door made her wince as Dean went to bed.

Sleepless night was an understatement. Dean’s eyes didn’t close once as he lay there thinking how wrong the day had gone. He and Y/N had argued since their feet hit the floor that morning. Him being an ass was the reason for it. He hated fighting with her, but when he woke that morning, she was curled up at his side, her head on his chest. Usually, a man wouldn't complain about having a beautiful woman wrapped around him, but it tends to put you in a pissy mood when it’s a woman you love but can’t have. 

Dean was ass over tea kettle for Y/N, but he’d never tell her that. She deserved so much better than being saddled with a man who could barely stand his own company most days. He drank too much, and he wasn’t good at communicating how he felt. He knew that. Sam had told him many times he needed to learn to open up, but he didn’t want to burden anyone with the shitshow that was his mind. Especially her. So, as with his other emotions, he pushed his love for her deep and tried to ignore it. Lately, that hadn’t been working so well. As he lay there telling himself all the reasons he couldn’t have her, a sound caught his attention. He tiptoed to the door, cracking it slowly, and what he saw had him rushing out the door. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he quizzed her as he rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms. Her sobs were what he’d heard. 

“I’m fine, Dean. Go back to bed,” she hiccuped through her tears. She couldn’t tell him the full truth. 

“Obviously, you are the opposite of fine. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, placing her chin between his thumb and index finger to turn her face to him, “Is this about today?” 

“Partially,” she admitted, trying to turn her head back to the window, but his grip wouldn’t let her.

“Y/N…I’m so so sorry. I know I was being an ass, but I had no idea it would hurt your feelings like that. Can you explain to me why? I’m not trying to fight. I honestly don’t understand.” 

“I’ve tried to get rid of the ‘hillbilly’ stigma since I left this place. It's always the same thing whenever someone finds out where I’m from. There’s this image people have about people from the Appalachian mountains that just aren’t true. We’re not a bunch of ignorant, uneducated people who live deep in the woods and never come out. Unfortunately, movies and TV shows have depicted us in such a bad light that most people think that’s all we are. And when that term comes from the man you…” she gasped, catching what she almost said. But Dean caught it as well. 

“The man you what, Y/N?” he asked, holding his breath. Was she about to admit what he thought? Maybe, just maybe, he could try to be better, be the man she deserved if she loved him too. 

“Dean…” she whimpered, trying to turn away from him again, but he wasn’t letting her go now. 

“Uh uh, say it. Say it, Y/N,” he pleaded, his eyes staring into hers, “Were you going to say the man you loved?” 

“Yes! Okay? I was going to say the man I loved!” she shouted in frustration as she jumped from the couch, finally breaking Dean’s hold on her, “Now, go ahead and tell me that you don’t see me that way, tell me that you don’t want me, so I can prepare to pack my shit and leave when we get back to the bunker. Because I can’t stay there and see you every day after your rejection. I just can’t.” 

Dean stood and walked to her as she stood staring out the window, her back to him after her confession. He touched her shoulder, gently turning her to face him. Her look of sadness and despair nearly ripped his heart from his chest. He thought having his heart literally ripped out would hurt less than seeing her like this. He slid his hand up from her shoulder to cup her cheek. A tear trickled down her face as she closed her eyes at his touch, and he swiped it away with his thumb. 

“Is that what you want me to tell you, or do you want me to tell you the truth?” he asked softly, waiting for her to open her eyes, which didn’t take a split second. Her eyes went wide. 

“What are you saying?” she uttered shakily. 

“I’m saying that I love you, too, Y/N. I have for a long time.” 

“But, but,” she stuttered, trying to find her words, “You were so mad at me when we woke up this morning. That isn’t how someone acts when they love the person in bed with them.” 

“Sweetheart, I was mad because I opened my eyes to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen curled up against me, and all I could think was how I wanted it to mean something, and I didn’t think it ever would. If I’m being honest, you could do so much better. And thinking I’d never have you that way pissed me off because I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I want you, Y/N. You’re my first thought when I wake up, and I fall asleep picturing you beside me. I know I’m not a good man, and there’s someone out there that could and would give you more than I’ll ever be able to, but if you really love me, I’m going to be selfish for one time in my fucking life and ask you to give me a chance. I can guarantee that I’m going to piss you off and probably hurt your feelings again, but it will never be intentional. So, what do you say? You want to give us a shot?” He poured his heart out to her, leaning his forehead against hers as he waited for an answer. 

“Dean, contrary to what you believe, you are a good man. You love with your whole being and fiercely protect those lucky enough to get that love. I know you don’t believe you deserve it, but you deserve the world, Dean Winchester, and I’d be honored to be the one to try and give it to you.” 

“Really?” he asked with a million-watt smile, leaning back to look her in the eye. 

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she returned his smile, both sighing in relief. 

“Come here,” he growled, pulling her face to his and kissing her passionately. 

The kiss was better than either had imagined, and they both poured the love they felt for the other into it. They stayed that way until the need to breathe became too much, pulling away with smiles. He pulled her into a hug, laying his head on top of hers. They stayed silent for a few minutes before Dean broke the silence. 

“So, you want to move your stuff into my room when we get back? 

“I don’t know, Dean,” she pulled back, chewing on her bottom lip, “I really think we need to take this as slowly as possible. Make sure that we’re going to last.” 

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he agreed, his heart clenching at the hurt he felt. 

“I’m just joking,” she laughed, poking him in the ribs, “You’re not going to get rid of me now!” 

“Damn it, Y/N! That wasn’t funny! You almost gave me a heart attack,” he grumbled, not finding her joke all that funny. 

“I think I’m hilarious,” she smirked up at him. 

“You’re something, alright. Now, how about we both try to get some rest? We have a lot of packing to do when we get home,” he suggested, leading her toward the bedroom, “You have a lot of shit. I don’t know where we’re going to put it all.” 

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned, “Well, we could always get rid of your vinyl collection to make room.” 

“Hey! Those are fighting words,” he growled playfully, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip. 

“Bring it on, old man,” she cackled as his eyes shot up his forehead in shock. 

“I’ll show you an old man!” he said in faux anger, chasing her into the bedroom. 

All that could be heard as the bedroom door shut was the laughter and playful banter between the new couple, and that’s how it stayed for the years to come.

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[brandthefish]

EEEEEEEE This is so rad! I plan on doing this with all my Tavs, starting with Wren! (Tiefling Rogue)

General

Wren can be recruited under a piece of rubble from the crash, somewhere near Astarion.

Shadowheart: "That tiefling seems awfully suspicious. It's rather strange to see someone with that many daggers and in that attire," Astarion: "I must say, our latest aquisition is absolutely delightful. I do love finding like-skilled individuals," Karlach: "Normally I'd tell you to be careful around a rogue, but Wren seems alright! They're the dash, I'm the smash!" Gale: "I have high hopes for our new friend. Hopefully their wits are as sharp as their knives." Lae'zel: "I am torn. On one hand, the purple one seems competent at the least. On the other, hiding in the shadows to make a kill? Cowardly." Wyll: "Keep an eye on that tiefling. They have a look about them I know all too well," (If pressed) "Let's just say that from my time in Baldur's Gate I've met a fair few 'friends' from the Thieves Guild,"

They have a BIG reaction when meeting Astarion. They're a bit cagey and comment about knowing him. Other than that, they act pretty gay around Karlach and are definitely displeased at Wyll's actions. (When they find out Wyll is the grand duke's son, they make a comment about almost carrying out a hit on him before he left Baldur's Gate)

Raise in Approval: Mischief and strange acts of kindness. Necessary violence, like after you've tried to talk out of it. Lower in Approval: Anything excessively horny (Ace moment) or letting someone who is clearly a problem or a bad person live (+8 points for killing Gandrel w Astarion)

They'll permanently leave the party if you come on explicitly sexually. (Agian, Ace moment) They'd give Tav one chance to apologize, and if they don't, Wren's out.

Them being a member of the Thieves Guild in Baldur's Gate. This would come up after finding the Zentarim hideout in Act 1 and more references would pop up after that.

Their personal quest involves them leaving the Thieves Guild and becoming a better person more in touch with their emotions like guilt, remorse and affection. Also letting their guard down. A branching path could be re-joining. You would have more allies among the city and to get in fights (such as another rogue, a drow named Soren) but Wren is back in the guild, and not loving it. They wouldn't be at the epilogue in this branch, called away to a job in Neverwinter.

Stay: "Fine. Not as fun to just sit here. I'll just... sharpen my knives I suppose... or read a book," Leave: "Hells yeah! Let me get my gear," (Because whenever they have the chance, they take off their armor, it ain't comfy)

The shtick with Wyll about almost killing him, and they explain why they didn't. (Change in Thieves Guild management, and their own moral compass) Once the player knows Wren is a member of the thieves guild, Wyll confronts them about it. "Why should we let an assasin stay? How heartless do you have to be to end lives for money?" "Says the man who nearly ended Karlach's life for a devil, oh virtuous Blade of Frontiers. For what it's worth, Wyll I'm not a complete monster." "Aren't you? Please elaborate." "When I was seventeen I refused to carry out a hit. On Ulder Ravenguard's son."

Yes! The Thieves Guild Master (in my fics, that's a human woman named Lorenna, but that role would be replaced with whoever the canon Guild Master is) and another thief named Soren, who's basically their chosen brother. (He's who their dream guardian is based on)

After killing the goblin in the tiefling camp. "Shame... could've prodded the old girl for information. Now there's blood to clean up," After meeting Alfira "humming The Weeping Dawn with their eyes closed before answering you,"

Story Specific

"If something's sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Nothing good ever came to anyone from blind trust."

"Absolutely not. I'd sooner let the bard pluck my eye out, then sell what's left of my soul to a devil. And a right cad of a devil at that."

"Glad he's in the open about it now. But if we can't get him bodies to drink from, he may need com- help hunting in the woods at night,"

"*groan* Gross. I mean, more power to you if you like it but... *shudders*,"

"Oh gods, you're actually doing it. I'll um... I'm going to go sharpen my blades... and poison them," (generally afraid)

They will leave if the player kills the tieflings. "They were good people. They didn't deserve that. I... If that's how you're willing to treat innocent civilians, who's to say how you'll treat us? (If the player knows they're with the Guild) Would you turn me over to The Guild for a high bounty if you were low on gold? Or Astarion to Cazador? Or Karlach to Zariel? Wyll to Mizora?"

Singing along and dancing to Alfira's songs!

"Have fun, I'm going to partaking in the wine, the music, then getting some rest. Don't have too much fun though, we still need to be able to function in the morning ;),"

"WHAT THE HELLS?! NO. THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU GET TO APOLOGIZE FOR I- *groans in agony* ... leave me for a moment, if you will,"

"Oh- well let's hope it wasn't venomous, or we're about to have much bigger problems than a foul taste,"

"Alright, fine. Perhaps I'll get used to being on a stage,"

Nah. I think even Orin would be a little wary of them. They're equally stabby, Wren is just aimed differently. And ima be honest, I haven't gotten far enough in my Durge run to know what that is.

Non-Ascended "I'm proud of Astarion. He was able to turn away the power, even knowing how safe it would've made him... He's a good lad." Ascended. "Let's hope he doesn't get too mad with power... I'm already seeing him change and it's scaring me. Let's hope I don't need to get The Guild involved,"

"Gods, I... I hope it was worth it," Narrator: There's more wariness in Wren than you've seen before. They're frightened of you. If they're romanced it adds. "I... I can try to get used to this, as long as all my um... as long as I'm still being listened to,"

"Then make it productive. Focus the urges on the goblins and their leaders. The urges are your arrows, and you are the bow."

They're investigating it crime-scene style, knelt over her body. "Gods... it's not a clean assasination either. Slashes and stabs long after she'd died," they close her eyes. "This was a crime of passion... almost animalistic. And the spatters... was this you?"

"Well... it's a bit sick to say I'm flattered." They hold down Durge and pour wine down their throat that's laced with something to numb them and put them to sleep. After they come to they ask if durge is alright. They just have a few scratches, they're fine. "I will get you through this. My blade and my heart are yours, I swear it."

Romance

Yes they are romanceable! They're a romantic asexual. The player would need to not give them back to the guild or their romance stops immediately. They feel too betrayed.

They do need to be flirted with.

They are technically a poly option. They're ace so they're okay with the player getting their needs satisfied by someone else. "I... I am not in a place to be picky about that, I think,"

You can dance with them at the tiefling party to music played and after share a bottle of wine and cuddle. (Shown to just be cuddling by both of them still having clothes on)

Just the one romance path.

Breaking up: "I... It was good while it lasted. I understand though." Choosing them over someone else: "Oh um... are you sure? I mean, I'm not blind to my looks or anything but... I'm not interested in... carnal delights, like your other flame is,"

"What is Wren's greatest fear?" Answer: Being controlled. "What is Wren's dream?" Answer: To quit the guild and be a poet or a singer. "How does Wren like to fight?" Answer: Throwing knives from the shadows. They named one 'Featherlight Wrath'.

"No protests from me, my love. Just be sure he knows I don't want to be directly involved in sex bit."

Mizora: "Out, devil." "I... I don't blame you for needing something but did it have to be her? Just talk to me next time you want to lay with someone." Emperor: "So... quite adventurous." Haarlep: "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Does he need a knife in his eye?"

No they will not. I think that was pretty clear from the rest of this. "Have fun, I'll be waiting outside when you've finished... ugh, realized it as soon as I said it, gods,"

They ask Tav to settle down with them anywhere not in Baldur's Gate. With the treasures they've gained on their adventure they're living comfortably and they want to take up singing. They would be interested in getting married, but later down the line. At the epilogue party if Wyll is the grand duke and the player knows about his adopted daughter, Wren would bring up adopting a tiefling from an orphanage in the city they're living in. "I don't want to have my own children at all... but I'd love to help a child so they don't have to go down the same path I did.

It would technically be possible to convince them to have sex (DC 20 Persuasion check), but it would be like if you picked the option after Astarion's Act 2 confession. It would just be a fade to black, and you would lose approval with Wren a LOT. If you were at highest, it would go back down to the middle.

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)

General

Where can your Tav be recruited?  Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region?  Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed?  What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game?  Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner) 

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin?  How is Orin's deception revealed?  How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer?  Can they offer to become one themselves?  Does their reaction change if they’re romanced? 

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test? 

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor?  Haarlep?

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

What are Tav’s plans for the future?  Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

[taliesin-the-bored]

Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel (Thank you for tagging me!)

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

[missingininaction]

alright, friends, i might say something you don't like but i think it's important. not just to defend a character, but because i think this is literally making people's experience and relationship with this game worse.

give jimmy like two seconds to exist.

by hating jimmy so much you refuse to even say his name, and judge real, living people for liking him, you are cheapening your experience by boiling down the main character to the most ~yuckiest~ moments. and, by not making a seperate space for hating on him, you are drowning out the voices of people who actually have nuanced things to say about his character. you know, the skilled writers and artists that feed the fandom? limitation is what kills fandoms, you have to know that.

is jimmy a good person? no. is he a good captain/companion/worker? Absolutely Not! he crumbles like dust under any pressure and he immediately shifts blame off of himself, he is an actively harmful individual and it's right to be upset by his actions. i literally had to stop myself from saying "man FUCK jimmy." multiple times because i didn't want to spoil how terrible he got to my friends when i showed the game to them.

but you have to understand; people are more than their actions. thats part of the entire point of the game. thats why its so abstract. you are meant to think about the nuances of their situation.

we can agree that anya was way more as a woman than what happened to her and what she did as a result of it, right? that despite her best efforts, she was a victim of circumstance, and she deserves to be understood and analyzed fully?

then why, seeing a fictional man who has done immoral things, are you so disgusted you won't even draw, write or discuss him outside of hate? what is that doing for you, to ignore literally the main character of the game because of his actions?

now, this is not to say people can't hate jimmy. i understand it! as someone who has been a victim of s/a and abuse, i understand if you hate him and are even triggered by him to the point of avoiding mention of him. (but...why are you in this fandom? ((not aggressive im genuinely asking)))

you can feel however you want about any character, my goal is not to control people. but i thought it was common knowledge to not hatepost about someone in their tag? over actual insight into his character and, you know, the main themes of the game?

jimmy is a man who has struggled his whole life. both him and curly confirm that in the game. he's unable to control his emotional outbursts, and he likely had no idea what to expect from being in fucking SPACE for over a year with people he probably didn't even know before that trip. and pony express and their corporate safety corner cutting certainly didnt help, did it?

for one reason or another, he most likely was never actually taught how to manage his emotions. that's just how it is sometimes, growing up as a man. and it would make sense if he was forced to deal with everything himself, no? he always complains, but he still says he'll handle it. because that's what he's always had to do. and this is just the start of what i could say about what made him the way that he is.

he's a victim too, not only of his own actions.

surprise surprise, people who do awful things can also be victims.

honestly, this entire situation baffles me. how are you going to avoid one of the main characters of the game, let alone the one you play as ninety percent of the time? mind you, curly is also guilty, and i am happy to see at least some people giving him space for nuance. because he is also a victim!!! why is it so impossible to see jimmy as nuanced, when literally every other character also has incredible depth to them??

you're tarnishing and spitting on the beautiful writing of this game just because one character is too icky for you to feel comfortable thinking about for too long. it's horror, you absolute morons. it's supposed to make you uncomfortable.

if you hate jimmy, i dont blame you. but please, please, make your own space for it. be kind to people who want to explore jimmy and the darker themes, and like him for what his character represents. this is a video game fandom, not a witch hunt. and please, learn some fandom etiquette while you're at it, okay? okay. thank you

also just say his name. its not a slur youre not gonna go to hell if you say jimmy. like this isn't as important but still it just feels like a microcosm of this whole thing.

[subcultureblues]

Don’t You Want Me (Baby?) Pt 3

———

Steve and Eddie are either hooking up or dating - and are about as bad at keeping a secret as they are dealing with their feelings. (Dustin POV)

1 / 2 / 3

———

“I’ll be there in thirty!” Dustin said. He slammed the phone down and dashed to his room to round up his notes.

“Bye mom love you gotta go!” He shouted as he hustled out the door and jumped on his bike. Dustin had just made it out of the suburbs and into town when he spotted a familiar Maroon Beemer in the lot by the Quickie Mart.

Steve was standing beside his car in a fluorescent windbreaker, leaning on the open driver’s side door. He was staring at the bouquet of flowers in his hands like his nose was about to start bleeding.

Dustin slowed.

….He could probably spare a few minutes to see what the hell that was about.

Really, it’s been a while since Dustin made peace with the fact his curiosity would almost invariably get the best of him.

“Hey Steve!” Dustin hollared, dinging his bike bell a few times.

Steve startled, comically jerking to attention. As a thoroughbred jock, Steve could be ever so slightly air-headed at times. But that usually didn’t extend to a total lack of situational awareness.

Steve waved at Dustin as he approached.

“Why are you angry at those flowers?”

“What? I’m not - “ Steve cut himself off with a sigh. He shot the flowers another grimace. “I’m just trying to decide if I’m being a total idiot right now…”

Ah, Dustin realized. Must have pissed off Robin.

“What happened?”

“I fucked up, I think. And flowers, that’s my go-to right? That’s the move. But…” he tapped above his temple with the side of his fist - as if to dislodge the stupid. He rested it there for a second. “I can’t help but think I’m becoming totally neurotic.” He said, vaguely concerned.

“Girls like flowers.” Dustin offered a simple shrug.

“Yeah, girls do.” Steve agreed. Then sighed again, shaking his head distantly.

Jesus, he must be gone bad.

And Dustin likes Robin. More importantly, he liked her for Steve, they were a perfect match. But most importantly of all - if Steve fucks this up, Dustin spends the next who knows how long listening to him complain about his endless strings of unfulfilling dates.

“And red roses? Can’t get more romantic than that, right?” He said, trying to sound encouraging.

“You don’t think they’re… I don’t know. Lame? Christ, what the hell am I even - I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing here.” Steve groaned, sounding totally defeated. He dragged a hand through his hair, displacing his artfully styled do. And too distracted to even notice? Dustin was very nearly starting to get worried. “Never mind forget it. Just, forget I said anything…”

“Who even is this guy? Your Steve.” Dustin scoffed. “Legendary lady killer of Hawkins High. Remember? You’re great at this.”

““Yeah, that’s different though. I guess... I don’t know.”

“Different how?” Dustin demanded.

“How about because this is important. That’s how!” He said.

“Ok? That’s a good thing, Steve.” Dustin said, which even to his own ears sounded just a little bit demeaning. Maybe he did need to work on his tone…

“Is it? The last time I really thought there might be something there, it was Nancy. So of course, I manage to fuck the whole thing up. Because that’s my thing I guess.” He deflated. Then quietly, as though speaking to himself, he said. “Things were going so good too… I just had to start a stupid - “

He finally looked back up at Dustin. He closed his mouth and the far away look cleared. He shook his head, like was done thinking about it right now. Or at least done talking about it because he said,

“Henderson, what are you doing running around this early anyways?”

“Pft, what are you doing running around this early? You and Eddie. I’m surprised you’re not sleeping off your… illicit activities.”

Steve made a face. “No. Don’t call it that. I - we… called it an early night last night.”

“Figures. I’m headed to Eddie’s right now.”

“Ah...” He muttered to himself. He looked down at the flowers again and his shoulders wilted. Then he chucked them into the the passenger seat.

“Woah, man, careful with those.” Dustin scolded him.

“No, it’s fine. Look, I gotta go pick up Robin soon. We have a shift together later. See you around, man.”

Dustin frowned. Why were adults so goddamn weird? Is Dustin gonna start acting like this in a few years.

“Good luck.” Dustin offered, tilting his head optimistically. Steve just waved him off, still very obviously distracted.

“Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

Dustin watched him climb into his car. Steve would figure it out. Dustin had faith in that, at least. He could have a thick skull, but give him enough time and eventually he got it together.

Steve drove off and Dustin started pedaling again, in the opposite direction, towards the Forest Hills trailer park.

Dustin was at the trailer almost till dinner time, fine tuning what will soon be the very first one shot, nay the very first D&D session Dustin will ever orchestrate. He can’t help violently oscillating between excited and nauseous, but Eddie’s advice genuinely did provide a solid foundation to work with.

Eddie even assured Dustin he’d act just as shocked as the rest of the party, gasping during the big moments. Stuff like that - even though he knew pretty much every story beat he had planned just from helping Dustin sort it all together.

They were just packing up to leave when the phone rang.

“Shit. Give me a sec. That’s probably Wayne.”

“He’s not at work?”

“A buddie’s house. He got the weekend off.” Eddie said, picking up the receiver.

“Munson’s Mortuary Services. You got the purse, we got the hearse. Are we picking up or dropping off, cause - ” Eddie cut out mid bit. He grimaced, looking back at Dustin. “I - uh, hey. Look this really isn’t a good - “

Dustin was only really half ease dropping as he tried to order his session notes correctly. Eddie was talking quietly for the first time in his life, holding the receiving close to his mouth, which was making it kind of difficult.

“No, it’s fine… I’m serious, it’s fine. Yeah, I’m sorry too…. Well, I was being an asshole. Look this really isn’t a good time…” Eddie glanced back over his shoulder at Dustin. Dustin tried to look busy. “Just, don’t worry about it, seriously…. Yeah. Sure, talk to you later, ok?” Eddie started to move the phone away before bringing it back to his ear.

“This week? I’m not sure… Maybe. I’ve just - I got a lot of stuff going on… I’ll call you… Yeah, bye.”

Eddie hung up, hand lingering on the phone for a long moment.

“Who was that?” Dustin asked, so casually it was probably immediately suspicious.

“Funny how you think I won’t make you walk home.” Eddie said, a bone dry threat. That roughly translated to, it was definitely totally my secret girlfriend. “Pack your shit, dude. I’m calling Wayne so you better be ready to go by the time I’m done.”

It seemed like Eddie took it to heart what Dustin said about them never hanging out anymore. That week, Eddie really seemed to be making an effort to start making time for him again.

And the rest of the party of course.

On Monday, Eddie suggested Hellfire (plus Max!) hit the arcade after school. He didn’t give them any quarters, but that was fine, they had enough loose change to have a good time. They’d just need to plan ahead and bring Steve next time.

After school on Tuesday, Dustin called to see if Eddie wanted to keep working on the one shot. Which he couldn’t cause Corroded Coffin had band practice.

So instead, he invited Dustin tag along. It came with the strict stipulation he kept his mouth shut, his ass glued to the couch, and he not try to touch anything, on pain of a swift and merciless death. But Dustin’s come to understand Eddie’s threats have a lot more to do with his penchant for dramatics than any honest hostility.

Eddie was just heading out the door when Dustin called so he said he’d come grab him from his place on the way to Jeff’s.

Dustin thought for a moment about changing out of his pun-derful shirt but ended up scrapping the idea for time.

He kind of regretted it when Eddie rolled up. Music loud and looking, as always, too cool for school. Summer was still fading, so he was wearing a loose, faded Cult shirt with the sleeves cut off. He had more tattoos than Dustin realized (all of them ugly.). There was a red flannel tied round his waist and he was wearing a thin leather bracelet.

Dustin couldn’t pull off a leather bracelet in a million billion years probably.

“Little mans sitting in on practice tonight.” Eddie announced as they walked into Jared’s garage. He got a scatter of hey’s and what’s up’s.

Dutifully, Dustin belined it for the couch. He sat next to the plastic Halloween skeleton that was already sitting there posed to watch (Dustin was introduced to him as Manny).

Eddie seemed to switch into DM mode, someone had to keep the boys focused and on track.

Dustin sat still and didn’t touch anything, which was easy enough.

But come on, their music was way too awesome for a passive listening experience.

Gareth, Jared, and Jeff seemed to appreciate his enthusiasm. Still, Dustin made sure to keep distractions to a minimum. A reasonable minimum, at least.

“God, you guys are just so - “ Dustin rambled. It had gotten dark outside and they were started to pack up their gear.

“Metal?” Eddie said, winding up his guitar chord with a smile.

“Metal as hell.” Dustin agreed, standing and walking over.

“We’ll make a public menace outta you yet.” Eddie said proudly.

“You can always bring the kid around more during practice.” Jeff said to Eddie. The rest of the band nodded around and shrugged.

“Actually having a live audience every once in a while couldn’t hurt.” Gareth said, nodding his head at Manny. Him and Jeff were dragging his drum kit back into the corner of the room.

“Yeah?” Dustin asked, grinning.

“Maybe you’ll pick up a thing or two.” Eddie grinned back, shoving at him a bit and fucking up Dustin’s hair.

“You’d teach me?” Dustin asked, swatting him away. Eddie shrugged easily.

“Oh man. That’d be so cool!” He said. “Maybe next time I could bring some of the other guys? Oh, and Steve could come too!”

Jared practically choked on his instant laughter.

“The King?” He said sarcastically. “Yeah, sure - you wanna bring King Steve here, to sit on the ratty couch in my garage and listen to us thrash around and scream for a few hours?”

“I dunno, could be pretty entertaining.” Gareth elbowed Jeff, nodding down towards Eddie. He was on his knees, focusing intently on tucking his Warlock away in its hardcase. Gareth leaned in closer and whispered. “He’s getting a little too cocky with those guitar solos, don’t you think? Could use a chance to play under pressure.”

“Oh, that does sound entertaining.” Jeff snickered, just as amused by the prospect.

“Can it.” Eddie said, without looking up.

“Eddie?” Dustin insisted, looking to his DM for backup. They were talking like Steve was gonna march in here and just start heckling. Or throwing tomatoes at them or something.

“Sorry kid, they’re right. He’d probably hate it.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, it’ll be cool! I could at least ask? You don’t know he’ll hate it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Steve Harrington would think our heavy metal band is so totally cool.” Jared said flatly, as he leaned over to grab the handle on his bass amp.

“Hey. I saw a Metallica tape in his car the other day!” Dustin said to Jared. Jared’s eyebrows climbed, surprised. Maybe even a little impressed, though clearly too stubborn to admit it.

Dustin turned back to Eddie. He was still expecting him to come to Steve’s defense. But he stayed quiet, barely a part of the conversation. “Come on, I thought you two were friends now.” He accused.

“Sure, Harrington’s fine.” Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah he is.” Jeff muttered under his breath. Gareth puffed up with a badly contained laugh.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Right, you blow us all off to go to go smoke weed with him at the drive through, but he’s just fine.”

Jared, who had been bending over to put his amp against the wall, froze in place.

“No fucking way.” Gareth’s head shot up, his eyes blown wide. But it didn’t sound like he was pissed at Eddie for crossing party lines. Not with the massive, disbelieving grin on his face. “You and Harrington? You fucking took him to a drive through?”

“What movie was it?” Jeff shot out, equally delighted.

“Was it a scary movie?” Gareth said. They both scrambled out from behind the drum set, their task wholly forgotten.

“Guys.” Eddie huffed. “Fine. Yeah, ok, we went to go see a movie - So what?”

“And you just, what!? Forgot to mention it?”

“Sure!” Eddie grimaced. He shrugged defensively. “We just - caught a movie. It’s not a big deal.”

Gareth barked out a laugh. Like that, that right there, is the funniest thing Eddie’s ever said.

“Guys.” Jared looked at Jeff and Gareth pointedly, before glancing at Dustin.

“Sorry it’s just…” Jeff paused with his mouth open, incredulous. “Didn’t know you guys hang out now.” He finished. “Ya know, outside the whole - coparenting.”

“We don’t.” Eddie said, tensely.

Dustin frowned as he watched the guys continue to stow their shit. Gareth and Jeff went back to sorting out the drums. “Not a big - “ Gareth scoffed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

The rest of the boys were struggling to contain shiteating grins and Eddie was just pretending not to notice.

Dustin had never known these guys to be such… jerks. Why would it be such a big deal if Eddie and Steve were friends?

Could it really be all because they’re just so - different? The idea of hard rocker Eddie kicking back with a jock even once was just patently absurd? Ridiculous enough they jump straight to teasing him for it?

Dustin’s frown deepened. For a bunch of freaks, that all seemed pretty judgmental.

These guys would come around on Steve. Seems like Dustin would just have to make sure of it.

On Thursday Eddie agreed to pick him up from school.

He was late of course, so Will, Mike, Lucas, and Max had all started towards home by then.

When he did roll into the parking lot, it was in a sweeping wave of orchestral heavy metal.

“Pick it up.” He said impatiently, as Dustin opened the door. Eddie evil eyed the school building while he turned down the music. “Don’t like being here any longer than I need to be outside D&D hours.”

Dustin hopped in. He had a VHS copy of Jaws in his hands. He had left it behind at Lucas’ like two weeks ago and promptly forgot about it. A week later Lucas brought it to school and Dustin had only just re-unearthed it from his locker today. It was daunting just thinking of the fees that were sure to be stacking up by now.

His only salvation was Steve. Who’s thankfully working today.

“I need to drop this off at the movie store and before you say no - “

“Sure.” Eddie said, already starting the van.

“I - that was easy.” Dustin sat back and relaxed against the seat.

Eddie kept his eyes on the road and shrugged.

“I was thinking about renting something anyways.”

They drove straight to Family Video. The door dinged as they walked in.

Robin was sitting behind the counter. Still focused on her crossword she said, “Hi, welcome to Family Video, can I help you find - Oh, hey guys.”

“Hi Robin!” Dustin said, walking up to the counter.

Eddie lingered by the displays. He traced a finger over one of the tapes on the shelf. “Harrington, here?” Eddie asked, inspecting the cover.

Robin rolled her eyes but she was smiling. “You just missed him. It was seriously slow today and he won rock/paper/scissors so - he clocked out early for the day.” Eddie hummed and put his hands in his jean pockets.

Dustin handed Robin his VHS tape.

“This is eight days late.” She frowned at the computer.

“So - “ Dustin said, thinking fast to distract her from errant thoughts of late fees. “how’d you like the flowers?”

“Flowers?” Robin scrunched up her nose at him.

“The flowers Steve got you?” Dustin blurted out before he clamped his mouth shut again. She squinted at him. Suspicious.

“What are you on about?”

Shit. Steve hadn’t got those for Robin had he?

“Nevermind.” Mayday-mayday. Pull up!

Hopefully Steve wasn’t too pissed at Dustin for letting that little detail slip. And Dustin could barely feel bad for blowing Steve’s cover because, what the hell Steve?

Robin’s lip twisted. She looked down her nose at him, regarding him uncharitably. He forced a smile as she stared him down for a moment longer. Then her face cleared. Raising her eyebrows innocently she turned back to the monitor.

“So about that fee. That’ll be five fourty-“

“Ok! I - “ Dustin hesitated. Sorry Steve - that was five dollars he really did not have. “I don’t know. I ran into him a few days ago. And he’d just bought a big thing of roses.” Dustin caved, shrugging and holding his palms up defensively.

“Ooooh.” Robin’s eyes crinkled with a warm smile and her gaze slid somewhere behind Dustin shoulder. Then quickly snapped back into place.

“Oh.” Robin said again. She looked baffled, like the implications of that just hit her and clearly didn’t sit with her right.

“Maybe they were for his mom? His parents are in town aren’t they.” Dustin offered.

“You know what? Yeah, that’s probably it.” Robin nodded vigorously. The poor, love struck girl just immediately latching onto the explanation.

“Nah.” Dustin turned around to look at Eddie. He was still feigning intense interest in that copy of An American Werewolf in London. “His mom is allergic to roses.”

“That doesn’t mean he - ” Robin scrambled. “Maybe he just… forgot, or something. I mean, you know Steve. Total ditz.”

He shrugged. “That’s fine isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah.” Robin said cautiously. She seemed confused more than anything.

Eddie said cooly, hands still in his pockets. A perfectly neutral smile on his face. “Steve’s a free agent, right? He’s free to play the field.”

Jeez, did Eddie have to be so blunt? What ever happened to letting a girl down easy?

“Uh…” Robin said, looking between the two of them uncomfortably. Like maybe she didn’t quite know the answer to that anymore but it was also something she really didn’t want to sort out in public.

Dustin honestly felt a little bit bad for her. Sure they both always say they’re not dating, but clearly she seemed none too thrilled at the idea of Steve going around giving another girl flowers.

Dustin had hoped with the way Steve was talking the other day, he had finally got his head out of his ass and was ready to go public and make them official.

“Hey, man, I’ll meet you in the car, yeah?”

“Sure.” Dustin said.

“Eddie - “ Robin said. Eddie looked over his shoulder, lingering half way out the door. Robin glanced at Dustin. “Uh. Bye.” She finished lamely.

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

Robin went back to the computer. She worked in complete silence. Suddenly the thick clack of the keyboard and the low murmur of the movie on the screen in the corner were way louder. Her brow was set like it gets when she’s stuck on a troublesome crossword.

“Sorry.” Dustin said, his face twisting up with guilt.

Robin glanced side long at him.

“I can talk to him you know.” He said.

“Huh?”

“I can talk to Steve. He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Jesus, for the last time. We - are not - dating.” Robin said through gritted teeth. She made a frustrated noise. “Do you have to be so… ergh, meddlesome.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He lied, taking a step back.

“You need to stay out of your friends love lives.”

Yeah well, how about Dustin stops meddling when his friends stop being so dumb about everything. Till then they’ll just have Dustin to thank for sorting out their messes.

Tag List : @reading-archieves @homoerotictangerine @bingbongsupremacy @aroseandherthorns-blog1 @wheneverfeasible @travelingtwentysomething @ineffable-monster-romancer @laughingphantoms @gregre369 @rawrx3ky-txt @thespaceantwhowrites @blcksh33p1987

@the-legal-shipper @maverickricky @i-amthepizzaman @pretend-theres-a-name-here @steddiefication @that-one-gay-crow @gleek4twd

@theintrovertedintrovert @tinyplanet95 @queercrisis2003 @awkwardgravity1 @stripey82

@sofadofax @midnightskeeper

@blurryjoji @estrellami-1 @caraspud @little-trash-ghost @finalmoondragon

@samsoble @depressed-freak13

[trulydeep]

WARNING long post ahead…

Today was both wonderful and difficult. Wonderful because my dear friend J danced beautifully and I was so proud of her and happy for her success. I am always happy when my friends dance well, even when I myself am unable to dance because of my injury. We’re a team, and Q is the captain. I was always happy for X too, because she’s a lovely dancer and I’ve often told her so. Unlike X, I’m not the jealous type.

However, my (true) friend told me a little of what was happening behind my back with X. This friend is an awesome girl who, like me, just wants to dance, have fun and stay out of drama. She manages to walk a delicate line and be friends with X too because she’s not a target of X’s out of control jealousy.

When my friend told me how X was betraying me she reminded me that bad people will come and go, not to take it to heart, and that there will be good people who come into our lives too. That helped a little, but knowing someone is falsely accusing you is devastating.

Even worse is that Q, and others, might believe her. I’ve always admired and wanted the best for him, even when X sits across the table from me and tells me all the hurtful things he’s said about me, not trusting her but still wondering. That’s usually after she’s just said Q’s a psychopath or something akin to that.

I’ve hoped that people who know me wouldn’t believe terrible things about me, or, at least, would ask me about them. But X is a magnificent liar, probably the best I’ve ever known, and I’ve got a doozy of a liar in my own family. It’s astonishing to me that I didn’t recognize her personality disorder sooner.

When I was upset about X smearing my reputation, my psychotherapist friend warned me to just let it go and not confront X. She encouraged me that people who are willing to believe X are not worth having in my life anyway.

I suppose my therapist friend is right, but I have to be around X, because she’s usually there when I’m dancing. I’m trying to stay kind and be friendly because I don’t want to make things awkward for anyone else but it’s difficult. I don’t think Q knows what he’s gotten himself into. Sigh…

November 2024

[wosowffc]

RELATIVES

Part 2

My hand was slightly clammy as I walked towards the door of where the girls are when I saw Kyra out of the corner of my eye, walking in a hallway. My excitement and energy got the better of me when I ran toward her and jumped on her back, Caitlin foord on her left and Victoria pelova on her right both looked at me in shock, I hadn't spoke to them before but I suppose they know who I am.

"IZ?!?! OMG" Kyra shouts spinning your round on her back before darting forward, you bouncing up and down. "BETHHH LOOOK" Kyra shouts down the hallway finally letting you down quickly engulfed in Beth's arms within a few mins girls had come over giving you hugs or handshakes saying hello and welcoming you. Then you saw her.

Leah stood in the corner of the snack bar keeping her focus on the group huddle round you, your gaze trying to see over then people to her. You break free Beth walks behind you as you sit on the sofa.

The rest of the training you stay clear of Leah, the interaction with her wouldn't have been good on the first day mabey tomorrow you said to yourself. Heading home to your new apartment ordering some food from macdonalds not really bothered to work out the cooker -too tired.

That night when you were chilling trying to find something to watch that won't bore you too much, you recieved a text from alessia asking if I needed anything round or if there's anything I need unpacked to which I don't but I think I'd like some company. The moving has been a lot and being alone with no family for a good while now meaning the travel and things inbetween you do alone, you lived with your older teammates before as coach thought it was best.

Alessia arrived bringing Beth with her, you let them in apologising for the boxes near the wall. You and the girls spent a while of catching up talking about how the travel was and how the training schedule is at Arsenal.

"We better get going soon, what did you think of everyone?" Beth asked as she took a bite of the chocolate brownie tray you had bought

"Yeah I like everyone they seem dead chill" you figet with the skin on your finger as stand up while they chat getting bored of the sitting.

"Have you met Leah before?, you didn't seem to talk ,niether did she" alessia points out. As you stand you house you knee bouncing.

"Yeah no, just met her before and we arnt very let's say close anymore" you say back to alessia putting hands in your tracksuit bottom pockets and walking a little but not too much trying to make it not noticeable.

"Sorry didn't want to make you uncomfortable" alessia started with a smile so much for not noticeable.

"Um no,no it's just." You take a break contemplating "Please don't say this to anybody I might have adhd the pysio at Washington noticed but I never got tested" you said the reason you didn't was , well, you didn't want to be alone while getting tested you were scared.

"Ohhh it's alright, it's totally fine we won't judge and promise we won't say anything unless you do alright" Beth smiled as they both stood up to leave. I showed them out saying goodnight and moving back to the living room of the apartment cleaning the bowls and sitting down.

Soon you found yourself going on a late night walk and by late night you ment about 2 in the morning you needed to release some energy you could sleep, you could sit on the sofa so it was the last resort. Before returning home you added some of the girls back posting a photo on your insta of the night and empty streets.

An-don't be timid to give feed back or if u want anything in it :)

[euniexenoblade]

I debated if I wanted to mock this post/screenshot for a couple hours and i decided I was just gonna go in line by line and dissect it

"being poly is a choice you make. not an identity you cannot change."

I disagree. I struggled with this through most of my teens and early twenties. The desire to be with multiple people was strong and the concept that I couldn't be with all of them was very confusing and hurtful not just to me, but the people I was with. Had I been taught what polyamory is younger and had known that monogamy is not actually the only way you're allowed to be, i'd have probably been able to stop struggling with this much sooner. Do I think this was as big of a mental struggle as being gay or trans? Nah. But it was certainly an issue that ate away at me.

As much as polyamory was a choice, so was me being trans was a choice. I would say both are inherent to who I am. Just because something isn't inherent to your identity, doesn't mean it isn't inherent to mine.

The second paragraph is a gross misinterpretation of what was said. I said abused poly people in relationships they cannot escape will likely cheat when they do find love. The same is true for monogamous people who cannot escape relationships. This happens all the fucking time. To women. To gay people. To trans people. To poly people. This is so utterly common it's an overused trope in story telling.

"OBVIOUSLY abusive situations aside"

The post was about abusive situations. You're already throwing away the core concept to the post.

"why are you staying with someone you are completely incompatible with"

This shows how this person has no value for relationships. Just because you realize you're poly doesn't mean your feelings for an individual disappears. You want to see if this relationship can still work, whether monogamous or polyamorous. Not to mention so many people would find themselves homeless or penniless by just leaving. There's no actual understanding of love and relationships and the heart here.

"you don't need to pursue any kind of relationship ever"

And gay people don't have to be in gay relationships. Trans people don't have to transition. Doesn't change the longing to experience what you want to experience.

"where exclusivity is agreed upon"

I know poly people who entered relationships under the premise the other person was poly, just for that person to decide "actually I'm monogamous, and I'll kill myself if you leave me." You have no understanding or empathy.

"wanting to be poly does not excuse cheating what is wrong with you people"

Look I agree cheating sucks and violates trust, but acting like it's the worst thing in the history of ever is just childish. I get it hurts but at the end of the day, you do not own another person's body and sometimes shit happens. I just do not care what other people do with their own bodies and you cannot make me believe I'm supposed to care. If my husband goes and fucks someone without my permission (which he commonly does) then that's rad. I hope he has fun. If my wife goes and fucks someone I don't know (which she regularly does) then fuck yeah I hope they both had fun. Y'all are too fucking uptight.

Also the tags

The "monogamous people are losers and shouldn't get a say in anything" was something I said in reply to a heckler on my 'monogamous people often abuse poly partners' post. To take it solely as 100% serious opinion is foolish and childish.

"I cheated cuz waaa"

I've never cheated on any partner. The post isn't even saying it's ok cheat, it's saying that poly people get branded as cheaters whether they do or don't. But I'll say it here just because it's so controversial that it pisses losers off: it's ok for polyamorous people to cheat on monogamous partners. Get out before they abuse you.