#i could say A LOT MORE about this topic but i will stop there
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nerissamaes · 3 days ago
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TW: drug use/overdose
The first girl I loved in a way I now know is irrevocably queer died of a heroin overdose. When we still knew each, we stole moments in the hallway, and over text, always dancing on the line of a relationship that felt like a death wish. Both of our parents were homophobic, abusive , and the few queer friendly teachers at our high school were so overloaded with students who needed support, and with less than vague threats from admin, that even if there was support for us theoretically, there really wasn’t in practice. I don’t think either of us really knew how we felt, not really, but we would share music, quiz each other on science facts, and talk about our favorite things. She would always tell me she was never smart enough to be my friend, but bio was her favorite subject, and she never misremembered any of the facts I read her out of my AP bio textbook. She loved rap music, and reading, she hated her job, and she had the most pretty smile, this little self satisfied smirk, every time we caught each other’s eyes across the lunch room, even though she’d dissolve into the biggest puddle of blush if she was even remotely close to me. She had two pet rats, she’d show them to me on calls a lot, and she loved them so, so much. Her friends weren’t supportive, they actively encouraged her relapses so matter how hard we worked on her staying clean, nothing ever stuck. They didn’t know about me. Her parents didn’t either.
She called me one night. Scared out of her mind. She knew as much as I loved her I didn’t like being around drugs, she tried so hard to keep them from me, but she had accidentally used too much. She was overdosing, at least on the verge, and she didn’t know who else to call. Her friends would write her off. I tried my hardest to talk her down, she tried her hardest to convince me it wouldn’t hurt to do just a little more. Nothing was working, I knew she could get like this but I’d never seen her this frantically wanting to use. I’ll never know why she was so upset that night. I didn’t know where she lived but I knew I had to do something so, oh so sickened by myself, I threaten to call an ambulance if she didn’t stop. She was so far gone she never noticed I didn’t know where she lived. She begged me not to because of what her family would do if they found out. Not just about the heroin, of course, but about me, too. I threatened until she stopped. I sat with her as she sobbed and begged for forgiveness while she came down. Of course I forgave her.
After we hung up, she never spoke with me again, too embarrassed and upset with herself for putting me in that situation, is my best guess, though I’ll never really know. About five years later, I found out from a mutual friend that she died suddenly, most likely an overdose. I had heard through him that she was in and out of rehab, that it didn’t seem to be working well but it seemed to be helping somewhat. Obviously not enough.
I tell this story here partially to have a space to remember her, but also because of the material conditions of our situation, and to describe what one of these moments felt like, especially to a child. She would most likely still be alive today if there was any infrastructure in my hometown to help gay kids in bad households. If queer kids weren’t the most hot button topic of small town Americana even when I was a kid, I could’ve said something to someone who could not only empathize, but have resources to help as well.
There exists a future where we could’ve loved each other in the open, and we both could’ve had genuine support for our respective addictions. But instead, my mom attends school board meetings with the intent of getting trans kids kicked out of schools, convinced there’s litter boxes in the bathrooms and GAC surgeons on hand in the nurse’s office, ready to operate at the littlest insecurity. Instead, a beautiful, wonderful woman is six feet under, needle in arm, having never gotten to say or hear I love you to another woman the way she wanted. Because dead queer kids are more palatable. Because when we’re addicts, with our dead queer friends hovering over our shoulders, it’s so much harder for us to find each other, to connect, to survive, let alone thrive.
I grew up in a world where the only good queer person is a dead one. I see glimpses of that world occasionally, whenever I end up back with my parents. But I also see her, in the bright eyes of every newly out queer kid I meet while TAing. I see her in the faces of the queer women in my life I’ve come to love with my whole heart. And so I suppose, from one effective queer elder who will always hold a bit of a queer kid who never got to be a queer adult with them like a kiss on my cheek, to every queer kid who might stumble upon this feeling the same way we felt in the moments of that overdose I just want to say:
I see you, I’m proud of you, and I know she would be too. Collect your stolen moments, your highest highs, your deepest loves, and hold them close, because the world that wants us dead can never truly take that from you, even if it takes some of us too soon. Those moments mean everything to us, not just us who actually experience them, but us as a whole community. Queerness is real, radiant, and beautiful and you deserve to have and hold that for yourself and with other queer people, no matter who we’ve lost along the way, so hopefully we don’t have to lose anyone else too soon eventually.
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rindreamery · 2 days ago
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hiiiiii. congrats on 300follwrs 🫶🫶🫶 about your event can i request karasu tabito, sweet, kiss on the lips, rivals to lovers if not taken^.^ xo
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ORDER 9: READY TO GO !
karasu + sweet + kiss on the lips + rivals to lovers w.c. 1k+
note. this took forever and is lowk booty cheeks 😭 literally right when i gained motivation to write this, got hit with a fever and couldn't write for a few days, and then forgot the plot that i initially thought of for this fic. so here we are... many days later... but i tried my best !!
interested in more? check out the lounge !
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group projects are, admittedly, the bane of your existence. 
but your professor loved to dish them out every chance they had, much to your dismay, under the pretense of “helping you form bonds with your peers.” though, it was always the same cycle; agree to work on the project on your own, piece together a slideshow or document using your individual work, turn it in, and hope for the best. in the end, your relationships with your peers remain the same, sometimes worse than before. not friends, simply classmates trying to survive the class, together or not. 
finding yourself stuck in, yet another, project, it takes everything in you to bite back a loud sigh. mentally, you’re throwing darts at a board with your professor standing in front of it. physically, you’re stuck in the library, late into the hours of the afternoon (when you could be taking a nap), endlessly researching about some topic that you, honestly, could care less about. 
but that, itself, isn’t the root of the issue.
writing a project about the effects of dopamine on love should not be complicated. well, at least, not more complicated than just pulling up research articles and getting a few quotes to meet your citation quotas. your issue, more or less, was with your assigned partner. him— karasu.
not that he was a bad person— no, quite the opposite, actually. he was perfect in a way that was so infuriating to you. anything you could do? he could do faster, more efficiently, and produce better results. he could put in half the effort and still come out with something that rivaled, or even topped, your work. that bothered you, and his nonchalance about it all only added to your growing frustrations.
group projects were the bane of your existence, and he was a close second.
even now, as he sits in front of you, doing nothing— he is frustrating. though, you can't explain why.
“if ya stop staring...” his voice slices right through your thoughts. he says it so casually, flipping through his notebook, ignoring the way your glare digs deep into his skin. “dopamine’s what makes people feel good, right?”
“yes,” comes your initial, curt, response. you can’t help the way your eye twitches at his tone, tracking his every move as he actively avoids looking back at you. his eyes are locked onto his notes in front of him, but you know better— he’s not actually reading them. “but it’s also a lot more complicated than that. dopamine affects a lot of things, like our reward systems and motivation. but if we’re talking strictly in the context of love, it’s what makes us feel that rush of excitement when we’re around someone we like.”
he hums at that, pretending to mull over your words. “got any personal experience?”
his question catches you off-guard, and for a second, you find yourself tripping over your words. “what— why do you care? you don’t need to know that.”
“no need to get all defensive.” he responds, once again in that casual tone of his, but mildly amused at the way you react to him. like he’s getting a kick out of making you flustered over his words. "i’m just thinking, to understand how dopamine affects how we see someone, we need to get some real-world data. like, experience it first-hand."
karasu finally looks up from his notes, and he raises a brow at you, anticipating your response.
you see right through him— a lie. this type of research project didn’t require personal understanding, rather, understanding gained from reading other sources. yet, oddly enough, you find yourself entertaining the idea. intrigued. “experience it first-hand? you want me to act as your lab rat or something?”
“well, ya are pretty much the perfect lab rat.” and your mouth opens to retort, but he flashes you a half-smile, that shuts you right up. though, teetering closer to that signature smirk of his. “because ya hate my guts. we can test to see if dopamine can make ya hate me less.”
you blink at him, blankly.
you're gauging for any sign that he’s messing with you, but he doesn’t backpedal on his words. rather, he sits there, chin propped in the palm of his hands as he waits for you to respond. (but it’s hard to, not when your mind is drawn to the way your heart stutters at his insinuation. an unexpected, and unwelcome, reaction from you.) "so, what? you’re suggesting we kiss or something?”
“ya said it, not me.” karasu shrugs, finally straightening his posture out and getting up from his chair. “purely for research purposes, of course.”
there’s another beat of silence as you wait for him to crack— to tell you that he’s simply messing with you. then, the two of you could go back to doing this cursed project, potentially finish it in one go, and never have to meet up ever again. but he doesn’t, and the silence draws into something more uncomfortable the longer it goes on. 
“wait, are you... are you being serious right now?” you asked, your eyes widening as you look at him in disbelief. 
“science is science,” is all he offers to you.
you could feel your face heat up, the warmth crawling from the base of your neck and up, and  you’re sure your cheeks are sporting a bright shade of red.  it takes a few seconds for you to gather yourself, not willing to back down, but in the end, all you can muster is, “fine— for science.”
his grin widens at that, and before you could second-guess your choice, he’s planting his hands on the table and leaning in. 
yet, despite his rough approach, the kiss is soft— tentative, almost. his lips are barely brushing against yours, and you could still feel his shallow breaths as he refuses to make that last push to connect the two of you. he's simply hovering over you, almost urging you to make that decision, giving you that choice to back out of it if you wanted to.
all you can focus on is the rapid beat of your heart in your ears, the warmth emanating off of his lips that are so close, yet so far from yours. the logical, karasu-hating part of you is yelling at you to pull away, to get it together. but you don’t.
you close the distance between the two of you, locking your lips in a shallow, but sweet, kiss. full of nerves, from the way your lips freeze up against one another, not knowing where to go from there. the confidence he held washes away in that fraction of a second; his elbows buckle underneath him, caught off-guard by the feeling of your lips, pulling the two of you apart.
it’s brief, barely considered a kiss, but your reaction to him is undeniable. the way your heart pumps just a little harder, the tiny, electric sparks coursing through your veins, or the way you found yourself chasing after his lips as he pulled away.
the two of you stay silent, but you find that he's grinning at you— differently, this time. in a way you can't quite explain.
"hate me any less now?"
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© rindreamery, 2025
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Something about Soren not being able to initially believe that Terry is complimenting him breaks me.
We don’t see him get compliments too often in the show. Especially in Arc 1, he’s belittled by Viren more often than not. Yes, he acts cocky and confident. He knows he’s super strong and great at most tasks associated with being a Crownguard (whether he thinks he’s actually a good Crownguard is a whole other mini essay, but I digress). But that’s all more like a task, something easily measured objectively. And it’s something totally different to be told that you’re good at those things by the people around you, or to be complimented on other things about yourself.
The biggest instances I can think of include:
Corvus calling Soren the mastermind of the plan to get Ezran out of Katolis. Soren immediately makes a joke out of it.
Ezran: you’re the best Crownguard a king could ask for. *hugs him* Soren: *cue shocked silence, followed by literally running away from the situation*
Everybody laughing at his comedy routine (not exactly a direct compliment, but similar in nature in my opinion). He actually accepts this pretty well, but it’s also something he’s been rehearsing and is proud of and is expecting a good reaction to. He even says thank you to the crowd.
“Well, if your sword is as sharp as your wit, then the young king is in good hands.” “Wow, but, thank you. Uh, dragons are SO nice.” He gets super sheepish about this and then in turn compliments dragons. One of the few times he’s okay at accepting a compliment, yet he still turns it around to make it about others.
“Soren, you’re amazing!” “Smort Longpocket is amazing.” Deflecting. Enough said.
“A good man with a big heart.” He gets so overwhelmed he can’t even verbally respond and just has to hug Corvus.
And now. The big/most complicated/messiest one. Viren in season 6. “Oh, you’ve grown so much. You’re so strong, so true to your heart. Your good heart. Somehow… you found the right path, in spite of everything I’ve done. I’m so proud of you.” “What are you trying to do?… Stop it! Just - just stop it! I know who you are. You’re dangerous. Everything you’re telling me is… is some kind of lie! And I’m not going to let you manipulate me again!” “It isn’t a lie, son, please.” There is so much to unpack here, but I want to focus on two big things: Viren compliments both his heart (aka Corvus’s compliment) and his strength (aka Terry’s future compliment). Soren’s gut instinct is to believe that Viren is lying. No deflecting, no avoiding the compliment. Straight up accusing him of more manipulation. Which is completely fair, when that’s all he’s ever known from Viren. So what does that mean for Corvus’s compliment, when it so closely echoes something Viren says? Was he lying, too? But it’s Corvus. He would never. So, of course, this would lead to some Big Feelings Time. (We Were Born the in the Valley/ Of the Dead and the Wicked on AO3 delves into this topic a bit and I think about it SO often. Of course, season 7 adds even more to the idea.)
*If there are other examples please remind me! I’d love to work them into my thoughts.*
Anyway, back to my point. He doesn’t seem to accept compliments very well and doesn’t know how to react to them a lot of the time. From resorting to physical affection, making a joke, or deflecting the compliment, Soren just does not seem to know how to handle people being nice to him. Because, ya know, childhood trauma and a father that was emotionally abusive. He’s used to lies and manipulation and any “compliments” having an ulterior motive.
So here comes Terry. Someone who has also been a bad guy. Who is trying to reform. Soren sees a lot of himself in him (peep the whole speech about abandoning Claudia).
And… he’s nice? And kind? And doesn’t seem evil? But of course, Soren is apprehensive and expects the worst, unsure if people can truly change.
“No, I don’t trust him. Nobody is this charming and, and nice. Nuh-uh.”
This is both an insult and a compliment, yet Terry just takes it in stride, not even hesitating:
“Thanks! You seem great too. Very strong and very, uh, loyal.”
A compliment for Soren? Echoing something Viren said? Oh, that must mean it’s manipulation.
“Ah-ah, I know this trick. You’re just buttering me up.”
I’m pretty sure the last time “buttering something up” was mentioned in canon was likely season 2 (if I’m wrong please somebody correct me), when Soren and Claudia are attempting to get Callum and Ezran back to Katolis. And it includes Soren straight up lying to them. “I know this trick” because he recognizes it, he was raised with it, he has used it before.
Now, we never see Soren’s eyes shift. But in the background he’s sure to see Corvus looking at him encouragingly. Corvus, who somehow has so much hope even in the darkest of times and believes in the best of everyone. Who knows people can change for the better because he’s seen it happen. With Soren. (@stuck-in-jelly made a GREAT post about Corvus and his optimism the other day. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and it inspired this bit of analysis.)
“But thank you. I kind of needed to hear that today.”
Soren relents. He accepts the compliment. He admits that he needs support, which we know is difficult for him. After he says thank you, the screen cuts to Corvus looking at Soren like he puts the stars in the sky every night.
I like to think that Corvus helped him talk through some of those thoughts and struggles he had after his conversations with Viren. We know they share a lot with each other.
Overall, throughout the series Soren has not been great at receiving compliments. But it seems like he’s got people around him trying to help him see how great he genuinely is. Hopefully in Arc 3 Soren gets ALL OF THE COMPLIMENTS and actually believes them, too.
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pedrospookie · 7 hours ago
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Don’t Look Back
Jackson!Joel Miller Angst
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a/n: hi! this is my first foray into writing angst— I thought a lot about this story and owe @slimybeth69 so much credit for holding my hand through it, helping me brainstorm and looking over parts of this for me. I was super inspired by the myth of Orpheus and this idea came to me. It might be crap, i will not be offended if you think it’s crap. I do recommend reading this lil blurb about the myth of Orpheus as it will be referenced (slightly) throughout the story. The synopsis is based on my personal knowledge and a blurb found on Britanica. There are many amazing, proper editions of this myth and I recommend reading that for more information if you are interested!
the events are not 100% canon — don’t come for me okay? they do take place in TLOU 2 but they aren’t perfect or factual, I just shaped it to fit the narrative of this story.
thank you to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers 🤍
tw: angst, death, mentions of suicide, mentions of suicidal thoughts, grief, lots of hard feelings, falling out with family, overall sadness, Minors DNI!
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In the Greek myth of Orpheus, son of Apollo and Calliope, he was gifted a lyre by Apollo. Orpheus’ singing and playing were so moving that animals and even rocks and trees moved about him in dance. He then married Eurydice, the love of his life who was taken from him too soon. Bitten by a snake on the day of their wedding, she was sent to the underworld, leaving Orpheus in the world of the living. Orpheus went to the underworld to beg Hades for her return. His music and grief moved Hades so much that he allowed Orpheus to bring Eurydice back to the world of the living, under one condition: upon leaving the underworld, the couple were not permitted to look back. They walked towards the world of the living, and in celebration of seeing the sun, Orpheus looked back to Eurydice and she disappeared. Some tales say that Orpheus sat at the entrance to the underworld, lamenting and playing his lyre for the rest of eternity until the Gods took pity on him and put him out of his mercy, allowing Orpheus to reunite with Eurydice in the underworld. 
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Joel’s body groaned awake, the sneaking rays of sun gently climbing through his shaded windows, caressing the fine lines that rested on his face. With a grunt, he slowly moved out of bed, stretching his neck and back after a long night of rest. 
Today was an average day for Joel; a simple shift at the stables, minding the horses and mending whatever was in need of mending at the barns, then a pit stop at The Tipsy Bison on his way home.
Things had been quiet since Ellie left. He hadn’t quite found a way to mend the hole she left in his heart. While Tommy and Maria had initially made an effort to include him socially, or pop over for visits with his nephew, the young child reminded him too much of the children he lost. His time in Jackson had softened him, allowing that small glimmer of hope to shine in his chest that maybe, just maybe, he would see Ellie again. That she would come back to him. That she would forgive him. But hope is futile. 
As Joel made his way outside, he noticed the weathered guitars that sat by the front, covered in a thin layer of dust, yearning to be strummed once more. Isn’t that how Orpheus died? Strummin’ ‘n cryin’ til the gods put him outta his misery? Joel thinks to himself, turning away from the lonely instruments and heading down his front porch. 
He could remember it clear as day— Sarah had come racing in the door with a new book from the school library. A tattered novel filled with Greek myths and photos of ancient ruins. She would spend hours explaining the myths and lessons behind them to Joel, a hot topic of discussion at breakfast. 
“What kinda idiot looks back!?” She scolded the God, baffled how he could have failed his relatively easy and simple promise to Eurydice. 
“Maybe he loved her so much that he couldn’t help it? He had to see her?” Tommy shares as he takes a bite of his toast. Joel shot him a look of confusion, eyebrow raised and a scowl forming on his lips, resulting in an innocent shrug from Tommy. 
”What! You ain’t ever loved a gal so much you couldn’t not look at ‘er?” He laughs, his words striking Joel right in the chest. 
He had. 
That is how he felt the moment he held Sarah for the first time. The small babe, barely large enough to fit in the palm of his hand, cradled gently into his chest. He knew from that moment that she would be the love of his life. He had never felt a love like this before, not even for her mother. Joel would go to hell and back for Sarah, make a deal with any devil, but he also knew that if she had been stripped from him like Eurydice, he would look. He couldn’t bear not to see his girl. That would kill him. 
Hell, it nearly did.
Much like Eurydice, Sarah had died knowing she was loved. In that final look back, cradled tightly in Joel’s arms, she knew he loved her. 
Joel felt his heart ache for his lost girls. The ones he tried to save. The ones he couldn’t save. He understood that bastard Orpheus now. That all-consuming grief and to have felt it not once, but twice? It was nearly unbearable. If he could, Joel too would lament forever, sitting on his porch with his guitar, letting the strings weep the tears Joel refused to shed.
It’s moments like this where Joel wishes he hadn’t flinched on that day early into the outbreak. But Joel had to keep walking. He had to. He couldn’t let himself fall back into the sounds and memories of the past, rewatching them play over and over in his mind, being harshly reminded of his mistakes — his failures — his inability to save the people he loved. If that small glimmer of hope that lived deep within his chest said anything to Joel, it was that he had to keep walking. If he had any chance of fixing things with Ellie, he had to keep walking. He learned his lesson, or so he thought. He couldn’t look back. 
A stillness fell over Joel as he approached the barn, its ancient wooden structure patched together like an old quilt. There was a spark of anticipation that lingered in the air, something Joel couldn’t quite put his finger on. It made his skin prickle and the gentle curls on the back of his neck stand on high alert. His heart stopped as he scanned the horizon for clickers or raiders, wondering if his subconscious was trying to tell him something. 
As Joel rounded the corner to the barn, the only sound to be heard was the soft munching of hay and Dan mumbling to himself. Dan was a familiar face from patrol, someone who had done several shifts with Joel over the years. A fairly decent guy who just wanted to get the job done and go home to his wife, something Joel respected. 
Commotion arose as Joel started to step into the stables. The large doors to the barn swung open with a thundering bang, sending the horses into a wild frenzy, bucking frantically in every direction. A flash of panic skates across Dan’s face as he tries to calm the horse in his grip, dropping a bucket of apples in the process.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay girl.” He tries to soothe the wild horse beside him, holding the reigns for dear life, as he puts his free hand out to calm another.
”What the fuck is going on, Dan!?” Joel yells across the barn, trying to be heard over the high pitched squeals and neighs coming from the band of horses. He rushes in, arms spread to try and tame the majestic creatures. Joel could see Dan lift his gaze towards him, a puzzled look on his face, eyes squinting at Joel before his attention was brought back to the horse beside him, a sharp neigh piercing their ears. 
“Shimmer, shhh, don’t worry! She’ll be here soon t’see you.” Dan continues to murmur to the horse, petting her snout as he slowly coaxes her. 
Shimmer? S’in Ellie’s horse?? Ellie’s here!? Joel’s mind races— how’d no one tell me that Ellie was here?! 
“Dan! Ellie’s here!?” Joel frantically shouts over the horses again, his heart rate skyrocketing as he tries to tame them into a calmer state. Out of the corner of his eye, Joel notices his horse, Callus. Slowly approaching the large animal, hand out reached to the bucking stallion, murmuring sweet words of endearment, coaxing the animal back into a calmer state. 
I knew ya were a good horse, Joel smirks to himself as he gives Callus some gentle pats of encouragement. He quickly focused back on the bucking mare in front of him, trying not to get kicked in the side of the head.
”Dan, buddy! A lil help here!!” Joel yells back again, trying to catch his buddies attention as he puts his hand out to the mare.
“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late!” Dan hisses, petting shimmer one last time before racing out of the barn, leaving Joel with the tantruming horses. 
“And I’m the one with shit hearing.” Joel grumbles, rolling his eyes as he starts to surrender to the horses, nervously backing away from the squealing animals and towards his own. 
“What happened buddy?” Joel asks Callus as if he could reply, gently petting the animals’ long snout. Joel had such loyalty to the steed, he had gotten Joel out of many sticky situations and home safe more times than he could count.  The gentle affection that Callus gave him was often the only affection Joel received these days. The horse whines in response, as if he was griping along with Joel, turning to nuzzle his head into Joel’s shoulder. At least you love me, Joel thinks to himself as he brushes the velvety fur of the large animal. He sees the other horses in the pen continuing to grow restless, bucking their legs in the air and bleating. 
This was out of character for the horses, especially Ellie’s horse Shimmer. She knew Joel and was easily calmed by him, yet his presence was working her up even more. What in the hell is out there that spooked them? This couldn’t just be because of the door?
Joel could feel the panic starting to rise in his chest, it’s one thing to control one wild horse, but an entire barn full?! This was beyond Joel’s scope, he had to call in reinforcements to get these horses settled. 
“I’ll be back.” He promises Callus, patting him once more on his back hip before sprinting out of the barn. 
That lingering feeling continued to fill Joel with dread. He scanned the area for anyone who would possibly help him, but the area was sparse. Where is everyone? Was there something going on that he didn’t know about? What did the horses know that he didn’t?? Were they all with Ellie? Where is Ellie? Fuck, did something happen to Ellie?!
Something inside of Joel started to twist and turn. What the fuck was going on? Why didn’t someone come to tell him? Where the fuck was Tommy? 
Tommy. 
That mother fucker. Whatever is going on, Tommy either knows and isn’t saying anything or he should know and is completely oblivious to the weirdness among town today.
Making good on his word, Joel returned to the barn to see Callus one last time. His noble steed had moved from his resting place in the hay to a windowed spot by the barn door, as if he was anxiously waiting for Joel’s return. 
As Joel approached, poking his head through the little window, he was shocked by the sudden calm that had fallen over the horses. What the actual fuck?
”They musta seen a snake ‘r somethin’, eh buddy?” Joel mumbles slowly under his breath to the horse, patting his snout again as he tries to piece together the odd scene that had just played out in front of him. 
Joel’s mind was filled with questions as he walked back towards the bar to find Tommy. These swirling questions were trying to wrap themselves around the strange events of today. Today was supposed to be a normal day. He felt sick, knowing that Ellie was in town and not a single soul came to tell him. Not even his own brother. Yeah, they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment after a whiskey fueled blow out a few weeks after Ellie left. Tommy just didn’t know when to fucking stop talking sometimes— there was no comparison to Ellie, let alone Sarah —and yeah, Joel loved his nephew but Tommy sayin’ that the kid could fill the gap that those girls left in Joel’s heart was dumb. And Joel told him so. In less kinder language, but he told him so. With a broken whiskey tumbler and a slammed door, The Miller brother’s stopped speaking to one another.
But Tommy would tell him that Ellie was back? Even if they weren’t speaking? He knew what this would mean to Joel. 
Unless Tommy hated him too. 
Sarah would be so disappointed. Seeing the two of them like this? The only family she ever knew split up and not speaking. She would be embarrassed of Joel, of his immature behaviour and hardened manner. This wasn’t the kind, loving dad she once had. She would have marched Joel over and made him apologize, immediately— with warm cookies! To which Joel would have mumbled something about how Tommy would probably prefer a cold case of beer, but nope! Warm cookies. 
Joel silently promised her that once he got things sorted with Ellie, he would go over to Tommy’s and properly apologize. He may not know how to bake cookies, but he’d find something. Something of the likeness of Sarah to help bandage the emotional wounds he caused. He would vow to do better, if not for himself, but for the sake of Sarah. 
A flash of auburn hair pulled Joel from his thoughts— was that Ellie?
His pace quickened as he tried to follow the girl, trying to confirm that it was in fact Ellie. She suddenly stopped in her tracks, suspiciously looking over her shoulder towards Joel. 
Holy shit, it was Ellie.
Before Joel’s brain could register that it was her, his lungs were screaming out, hands cupping his mouth to amplify his dark, gravely voice. Without a single flinch, she kept moving, ignoring Joel’s call and entering the thick wooden doors of The Tipsy Bison. 
Fuck, she must be really mad, Joel thinks to himself, feeling that small glimmer of hope that lived deep in his chest slowly shrivel up and disappear as he approaches the enterance to the bar. Tempted to go in after her, yet Joel couldn’t bring himself to go in. Ellie needed space, she has made that abundantly clear. The least Joel could do was respect it. 
He couldn’t blame Ellie— what he had done to her was unfair — stripping her of one of the few choices she had in this fucked up world, and then to lie about it? That was the worst thing he could have done. At his grown age, he should know this by now, having lectured not one but two daughters and a mangey brother about how awful lying is. “I can’t help you if you lie, Sarah”, “I can’t get you out of trouble if you aren’t honest with me, Tommy”, “Ellie, lying hurts peoples feelings”, “When you lie, I can’t trust you, Joel.” 
He was trying to protect her. Even with the best intentions, much like that bastard, Orpheus, he fucked up. This was a possibly irreversible mistake with severe consequences, and that killed Joel. Nearly more than the guilt he had harboured holding onto that lie. Letting it grow and wrap itself around his insides like a big fat, hairy tumor with teeth.  He had to let it out because Ellie deserved the truth. And while the repercussions of his actions may be the very death of him, he had no regrets. He would do it again, and again, in every life, to save Ellie. 
The one daughter he could save. 
If this is his penance, so be it. At least he knew she was safe and home. Maybe Tommy or Maria will talk some sense into her, help her understand why Joel had done what he had done. Or at least help her find the grace to forgive him, even just a little. And if she’d give him the chance, he would do anything and everything to fix this. A clean slate, a new leaf— whatever Ellie needed Joel would do.
She looked older, her hair longer than it had been when she left, half up in a way that reminded Joel of Tess. He wondered what kind of adventures she had been on and how things were going with Dina. He wanted so desperately to give her the copy of Back to the Future that he had found on a scouting mission a while back, remembering their extensive conversations about it and wanting to hold true to his promise to her. Maybe Tommy could be the middle man? He thought, leaning against the rickety planks that made up The Tipsy Bison. 
He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed Ellie leaving the bar, walking fiercely in the direction of Joel’s home, mumbling under her breath. Her shoulders were hunched over, hugging her arms close to her body as she marched forward, leaving Joel trailing behind. 
“Ellie, wait!” Joel shouts, trying to catch up to her brisk pace. 
“—I don’t even know how we even got here,” Ellie gasps out, her voice muddled and dry. It sounded like she had been crying. 
“Got where, Ellie? What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” Joel asks, still a few steps behind the girl, trying to respect her space. “What happened?” He prods softly, following her around the corner into their neighbourhood. 
“It’s just all so fucked up! Fuck!” She sobs, kicking a neighbours mailbox, wincing gently at the impact of her foot to the wooden post. Joel felt himself grimace at her anger, he knew this was his fault. He deserved her silence. There were a million things that he wanted to say to Ellie, but he knew at that moment that the best thing he could do is shut up and listen. 
“I don’t even know what the fuck you’d want, Joel.” She sighs, stopping as she approaches the front steps of what was once their house, leaning gently on the little black mailbox that has “The Miller’s” scrawled across it in white paint. 
“I want whatever will make you happy, Ellie. I will do whatever I got to t’build your trust again.” Joel murmurs softly, still a respectful distance from Ellie, watching her trace the white letters with her fingers, a single tear falls from her cheek as she looks up towards his house. Joel watches Ellie sigh deeply, the rise and fall of her shoulders giving her courage to move forward up the steps to their house. 
She’s home. These are baby steps! This is a start. For the first time in ages, Joel could believe that little glimmer of hope in his chest. He could feel it radiating warmth throughout his body, tightening his throat as he sucked back happy tears that threatened to fall. His girl was home. 
He followed Ellie up the steps, watching as she paused to grab his guitar. The lonely guitar that had waited so patiently for its duet partner to return, ready and waiting to be strummed once again. She held the neck delicately, blowing some of the dust off of the polished wood, her small hands holding the guitar close. Her soft grasp was juxtaposed with a sudden rigidity in her back and shoulders. 
“I’m gonna find who did this to you.” She hisses, opening the door to the house and slamming it, leaving Joel stunned on the porch.
What in the fuck was she talking about? Who was she talking about? Confusion once again swirling around in Joel’s head for the millionth time that day. He went to reach for the door knob when the front door suddenly swung open, Ellie barreling through with her arms filled with some of Joel’s possessions; a Linda Ronstadt record, some flannel shirts, the watch that Sarah gave him and his guitar strapped to her back. 
“Where in the hell are you goin’ off with my stuff?!” Joel barks, furious at the thievery taking place before his eyes. The least Ellie could do was ask, she knows he would say yes! Ellie continues to ignore him, marching back towards The Tipsy Bison, rambling on and on about how she is going to get payback. 
Payback for what?
“Ellie, can y’please just stop for a fuckin’ minute ‘n throw me a bone here? Y’re runnin’ off with my stuff, the least ya can do is acknowledge me, damn it!” Joel shouts, his pace quickening to catch up with hers. That glimmer of hope is now replaced with sheer rage. This little punk. Joel knew he still had no business disrespecting Ellie’s space and wishes, but he’d be damned if he let her run off with his favourite things without so much as a short acknowledgement. He’d raised her better than that. 
She powered through, pushing the doors to The Tipsy Bison open, Joel following closely behind. The bar was quiet for the afternoon, a small group of people were gathered around a table at the back. As Joel got closer, he started to recognize them, Dan from patrol and his wife, a couple of nice folk from the stables, Maria and Tommy, and then Ellie, who was laying all of Joel’s items out on the table. 
“I’m sorry, kiddo. I know this fuckin’ sucks.” Tommy says softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I remember when my mom died, I was your age. It fuckin’ sucked.”
Yeah, it did suck. Dad wouldn’t get outta bed and we had to do all the plannin’ — wait, died? Who the hell died?!
“Are you sure you don’t wanna let us handle this?” Maria asks cautiously, knowing the weight that this would place on Ellie’s shoulders. 
“Yeah, no offence, but Joel would hate whatever you guys would plan.” Ellie says with a morbid chuckle, “It’s the least I can do. I feel like I owe it to him, ya know? We were about to turn a new leaf— I was going to invite him to watch a movie with me and Dina that night.” She sighs a tired sigh, her voice sounding like she is crying but no tears come. “Maybe, if I had just asked, Joel wouldn’t have been home. That this wouldn’t have happened. That he wouldn’t be dead.” Ellie’s voice breaks on the last word, her tears finally falling as Maria and Tommy hush her, cradling the young girl in their arms. 
Joel felt his whole body go cold. He was dead? How could he not remember dying? How could he not remember seeing Ellie? What in the fuck is going on. This has to be some sick fucking joke that they’re all playing, some weird April fools prank that his old heart couldn’t fucking handle. God, he was gonna give it to Tommy once they snapped out of it. 
“I’m gonna go check out the spot you guys picked. Make sure it’s not shit.” Ellie mumbles softly into Maria’s shoulder, her brash comments eliciting a chuckle from Tommy. 
“Alright kiddo, you know where to find us.” Tommy quietly replies, pulling out a chair to sit at the table filled with Joel’s belongings. 
Ellie’s footsteps slowed as she approached the quiet cemetery. Joel waited impatiently for the rest of the gang to sneak up on him and spook him, or shove him into an open grave as the cherry on top of their sick joke. 
But there was something about the solemn look on Ellie’s face that scared Joel. Her usually bright eyes were dark and sunken, red lining the amber of her eyes and her voice was raspy and aged. She couldn’t be this good of an actress, her inability to hold in a giggle when reciting her dad jokes was more than enough evidence to prove that she couldn’t act if her life depended on it.
Was this why everyone had been acting so strangely today? Because they were mourning him? But he woke up in his bed, like he did every day…? Was this purgatory? Oh fuck, is this hell??
No— Joel is not dead. He can’t be. He fucking woke up this morning and went to work! The way he does every day. This is a sick joke as payback for Joel mistreating everyone, some twisted version of a Christmas Carol where Joel will come out the other end redeemed and live happily ever after…after apologizing to Tommy and Ellie.
His logic made sense until Ellie stopped in front of a grave; a 6 foot abyss staring right back at her, threatening to suck her in. The dirt was piled beside the ashy grey tombstone that harshly read Joel Miller across the top. 
“Fuck you, Joel.” Ellie solemnly curses under her breath, sitting beside the heavy stone. She slowly leaned onto it, imagining it were Joel’s broad shoulder. “I’m so mad at you for dying.” She adds slowly, picking up a small rock and starting to build a pile beside the tombstone. “You promised me so many things, and now you’re dead. All because of me.” Ellie cries, wiping her snot and running tears on her sleeve, “you didn’t even finish teaching me that stupid song.” 
Joel couldn’t believe the sight before him. That was his name scrawled across that tombstone, matching the one his parents had, similar to the one Sarah deserved to have. He was dead and in a few short hours, his cold, dead, battered body would be buried in that hole in the ground, like the many bodies Joel had buried in his twenty plus years of living in this hellscape. 
He felt so incomplete. He wanted to live! He wanted to live for Sarah.
There was a reason that bullet hadn’t killed him! He was meant to live! He had so much left to teach Ellie. Memories to create with his small family, traditions for him and Tommy to pass along to their kids. Fuck, Tommy— he died and the last words Joel said to his brother were so despicable that he couldn’t even bear to repeat them to himself. He didn’t get to tell a single one of them that he loved them, let alone how much. And selfishly? He died without hearing it back.
Joel knew that it was over, but he was so scared. Was this how Sarah felt when she died? What happens now!? His life was just starting to begin again, and now it’s gone. It’s over.
Picking up the final rock to her small pile, similar to the one she watched Joel build after Tess died, she sighed, the look of fear and grief filling her eyes, a look Joel knew all too well. “I’m going to miss you every day for the rest of my life.” She whispers softly, her voice breaking on almost every word. In a blurred mess of tears, she places the final stone at the top of the pile beside Joel’s resting place, and with one final sob she stands up wiping her hands on her jeans before turning back to the front gates of the cemetery. 
When that bastard Orpheus finally died, he was reunited with his love, Eurydice, who greeted him into the afterlife. But that was only a myth, a tale made up to teach you a lesson. Maybe that’s exactly it. Maybe this was Joel’s lesson— or punishment, for all the cruel misdeeds he committed in order to survive this hellscape they called life. He had hoped many times that if God were real, he would be reunited with Sarah when his time came. That seeing her bright, smiling face once more would ease his grief of his life ending and provide him a comfort he had desired for decades. That last look back to bring him peace in his final moments.
But this isn’t a myth. Sarah wasn’t here, waiting for him to appear, to hold his hand once more and help him cross over in their long awaited reunion.
No one held him in their arms as life slowly drained from his eyes, and his pulse started to slow, whispering sweet nothings into his ear to calm his fear. He was alone. Even in death, no one looked back for Joel Miller.  
tag list: @evolnoomym @mrsmando @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @picketniffler @letsgobarbs @itsokbbygrl @marilovespedro @syd-djarin
(if you don’t want to be included in my tag list, pls let me know!! I just wanted to add names for folks who I thought may be interested in reading this 🤍)
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just-some-random-blogger · 18 hours ago
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I said I was going to reblog this when I woke up. That was today and now I'm sleepy and about to go to sleep but I REFUSSSE TO DO SO BECAUSE MY GOSSHHH THIS GOD MEEEEE SOMMEEEEEE TYPAAA WAYYYYY HELLO????????? 😫😫😫😫😫😫
Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.
I cannot put into words how this like... Changed my brain???? Like it's so beautiful and sensible and yah. That part. That would 100% happen if you were dating a twin like hello? Also idk the thought just makes me swoon ))))):
“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.”
JSJDJDJSJJSJSJSJJSHSHSHHSHA HES SO STUPID THIS IS WHY HES MY FAVE BB GIRL ARE YOU SINGLE IM TRYNA GET YOU PREGNANT AYO MY GUY WHAT DO YOU MEANNNNNNN WHEN YOU SAY THIS UR SO SILLY WTFFFFFF IM GIGGLING LIKE I GET PAID TO DO IT
“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”
HE REALLY SAID SIS LOUDER AND
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“If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.
NASJJSJSBSJJSJSB IM SO SORRY THE GEORGE GIRLIE IN ME WANTS SO GO HELL YEAH LETS MAKE THAT RAT FREDDIE RUE THE DAY HE WAS BORN 😫😈😈😈 HES JUST SO DARLING I LUV HIM HES SO SILLY AND STUPID FUCKKKK
“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”
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“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.”
👏THAT👏PART👏 RIP HIM TO SHREDS GEORGE. ANNIHILATE THAT GINGER GIT
“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?”
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“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?”
EXCUSE ME
He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch.
.... WHAT ABOUT IT
“Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?”
❓❓❓❓ DI BALE SANA NANDITO KA???? HELLO
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(tr: NEVERMIND IF YOU WERE ACTUALLY HERE. and the pick is let's go stupid/idiot)
You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.
I fear I may be quaking in my boots... It's not the only thing quaking.
“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.”
NO CUZZZZ
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His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.
I love icarusing myself WHAT ABOUT IT WEASLEY
“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?”
HES GOT SUCH A DIRTY MOUTH ON HIMMMMMMM FUCKKKK OFFF
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“Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”
Raw. Next twin.
“My little whore needs more?”
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“Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.”
Brat tame me then 🙄✋ I dare you also
Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.
VIOLENTLY SHAKING IM ILLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL
“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.
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UghhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHH SO GOOD NEXT TWIN LMAO HAHAHAHHH
Green-Eyed Monster | F.W.
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For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader
Word count: 8k
Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!
first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)
You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.
So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.
“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.
“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.
“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.
After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.
That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.
You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.
“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.
“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.
“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.
You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.
“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.
“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”
“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.
“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.
“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”
“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”
“What’s he done?”
“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”
“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”
“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”
“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.
“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.
“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”
“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”
So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.
“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.
“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”
“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.
“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.
“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.
“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.
“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.
“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.
“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”
“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“
Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.
Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.
“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.
“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.
“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”
“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.
“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”
“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.
“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.
“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.
The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.
Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.
“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.
“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.
“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.
“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”
“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.
“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”
“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”
“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”
“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”
You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.
“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.
He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.
“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.
That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.
“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.
Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.
“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.
“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”
“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.
Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.
“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.
He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.
You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.
“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.
At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.
“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.
He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.
“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”
His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.
“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.
“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.
He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.
“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.
“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.
“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.
“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.
He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.
You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.
“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.
“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.
He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.
You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.
You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.
He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.
“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.
Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.
Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.
“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.
You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.
“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,
“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.
“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.
“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.
“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”
Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.
“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”
“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”
“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”
At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.
“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.
“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.
“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.
He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.
“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”
“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.
“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”
“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.
“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”
“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.
“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”
“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.
“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.
It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.
“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.
“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.
“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.
“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.
“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.
“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.
“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.
“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”
“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.
You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.
The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.
Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.
“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”
“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”
“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”
“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.
“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.
“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.
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ravenkings · 1 year ago
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the thing about trying to employ some kind of "rating" system for books or trying to prevent certain people (even children) from reading certain books based on content that is deemed too "extreme" (which btw is a notoriously slippery categorization that will almost always be entirely based on the biases and preconceptions of whoever happens to be in power) is that:
a) unless you are going to take absolutely draconian measures, which i ~assume~ that most people ostensibly on the left who advocate for this sort of thing are not in support of, things will inevitably slip through the cracks and the whole exercise will ultimately be ineffective
b) you have to be comfortable with whatever happens when the people who DON'T share your beliefs and values grab hold of power and can then use the rating/censoring apparatus to further their own goals. for instance, think of all of the book bannings of LGBTQ and POC writers that have been ACTUALLY HAPPENING IRL in iowa, florida, etc.
c) WHO exactly determines what is "inappropriate" or "too scary" and how do they make their decisions?? different things scare and trigger people for different reasons, some of which they probably don't understand themselves, especially when they are children. to bring in a personal example, when i was 6 years old, i remember being OBSESSED with the movie elizabeth (1998) which is a biopic about the early reign of elizabeth i of england. for those who are unaware, this film features scenes of people getting burned at the stake, beheaded, poisoned, not to mention loads of fucking including what i believe is a brief orgy scene. i LOVED it. by the same token, i would not TOUCH any of the r.l. stine goosebumps books because i thought they were "too scary." and i KNOW for a fact that i was not the only kid like that. so like.......if you want to "protect" the children.......how do you take this sort of thing into account?
and tbh, the key thing to me is that whatever adults decide is "inappropriate" for children will inevitably be more of a projection of their own anxieties than what the child's might actually be.
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wickmitz · 4 months ago
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what do you think mitzi’s type in men is?
hmm, this is a fun little ask! especially since her love interests, on a surface level, couldn’t be more different. we have :
zib : former long term boyfriend but not quite … they were very loose with labels, as we know from outside information and the way zib lives life in general. but despite this, whatever feelings fostered between them were intense ; enough so for him to stick around years later, resigned to a chained down lifestyle simply because he doesn’t want to leave mitzi. he’s very loyal in that sense! even if it’s not a conventional type of loyalty. we know that before bitterness seeped inbetween their bond that zib took good care of her, while also being a complete mess of a person ; someone perpetually scared whenever physical conflict is concerned and being a musically inclined man who very much treats himself as a free spirit, with a morbid philosophy and feel towards life. he’s got a major tortured artist aesthetic!! is a little gripped by melancholy and nostalgia … zib is a lot of things, and ambitious is surprisingly one of the many puzzle pieces that make up dorian zibowski.
atlas : ruthless gangster, has an eerie presence that frightens even the people closest to him. he is prone to a more quiet disposition ; never speaking and always a blot of unremarkable grey. but he is an opportunist! someone who can manage a business and take advantage of shortcuts and loopholes to become even more successful … basically he is wealthy and uses his assets well. but all of this is done with a manner of distance, leaving even those closest to him never having the full picture of who he was. it’s also worth noting that mitzi and him had eventual problems, which caused her to seperate. also perhaps has a heart of some kind, but whatever love he possesses is hidden under layers of blood and mystery.
wick : well-to-do bore, and i say this with all the love in the world for wick! but compared to previous paramours he’s rather clean and talkative … there is a constant earnestness to him that bleeds out, an honesty and a more conventional sort of kindness. he doesn’t hide behind smoke and mirrors and there’s never really a front he puts up around mitzi -- or his investors for that matter, hence why he’s treated as an ‘outsider’ so to speak. he is an alcoholic who loathes the details of his job but is more than passionate about the job itself and makes this everyone’s problem … he is a little helpless, in the sense he’d die without someone there to make sure he functions … and is, like zib, perpetually afraid of conflict. can be a little wishywashy and can come across as uncaring due to his cheeky tone … but he’s loyal and caring, with a hobby for the unusual ( bugs and rocks lol ) as well as being able to look past the gossip mill and see the actual mitzi may as he knows her, someone who’s going through a rough time and is either too kind or classy to be a brutal killer. he is hypocritical, a little snobby, and rather forward with mitzi too. kind of a flirt when he wants to be!
something that immediately stands out to me when looking at this lineup is that mitzi doesn’t enjoy a violent man. i don’t think she loathes someone who can so brutally or clinically remove others from this earth, but if she were to go for someone they’d usually be sweeter in a sense. it meshes well with her old personality and kinder heart, perhaps brings it out in her, and that sort of levity and breeziness is more enjoyable than, say, being fully aware of the dangers that lurk around every corner because the man you’re beside is prone to bringing it. she also enjoys more talkative types, someone who’s less quiet and demure and serious, and is keen on her men having a hobby they care deeply for ; some sort of long term goal to work towards doesn’t hurt either. and because of some scenes in the comic, i’m a firm believer that mitzi wants someone who can make her smile or laugh with ease, whether because they’re ridiculous by nature or genuinely funny! she has a sort of funny bone herself, enamored with gallow’s humor and darker jokes, so having someone who either a.) reacts hilariously in the face of her jokes or b.) who can return that energy with teasing or their own brand of silly is desirable. everyone could use a good laugh or two, a sense of joy injected into the bustling life they all live, and this all ties back to mitzi being more drawn towards the less stuffy types of men.
so atlas seems to be an outlier when it comes to her type in many ways, hence the later problems they apparently had in their relationship even if she did love him dearly. but, of course, atlas did have something very appealing to her that zib had failed to give, which she rather fondly recalls in the comic page vestige. whether zib likes acknowledging it or not, mitzi wasn’t as gungho about their normad life as he was … or, at the very least, when she lived another life besides that one, she realized she had a preference! and atlas gave her that path, that knowledge that she wanted something else, and seemingly for the very first time in her life … she felt like a proper lady, a feeling that clearly meant a lot to her. it wasn’t just the dresses or the wealth, it was the constant eye of atlas who could have any dame he wanted, but fancied her his wife regardless. it was having someone so respectable looking, dressed well and groomed well, being able to see her as something other than a sweating, exposed girl in a bawdy dress. atlas’s seemingly polite treatment towards mitzi was enough to garner her affections in spite of everything else, so i think she enjoys that now in others, ; folks who treat her as though she’s a woman in high society, men who don’t gawk at her or make lewd remarks immediately … she probably prefers the courting process now and the quaint dates ( that she doesn’t pay for, mind you ) that come along with it. she just -- likes mutual respect, i think. and who doesn’t? she’s been through a lot to get to where she is now, even if it’s a bad predicament, and she’d like for that to amount to something. some sort of acknowledgment, some kind of recognition.
however, it’s worth mentioning that her views on romance and all that it entails have been warped since the death of her husband. such a loss would change how anyone approaches their dating life, if they were to even have one afterwards … after all, mitzi’s whole problem is that she doesn’t want to move on from atlas and has thus completely romanticized him in her head, to the point that she earnestly believes she’ll be miserable forever without his presence. any problems she had with atlas have long since been erased by her tortured mind, leaving her with a profound misery she’s wallowing in. i think she believes herself as incapble of romantic or sexual inclinations nowdays, leading her to view the advances made towards wick as a necessary ‘evil’ for the sake of atlas may and little else -- when she genuinely does like sedgewick to a degree, and wouldn’t go on dates or kiss a man unless some part of her honestly wanted to do so. ( i also think she was attracted to wick somewhat even while married to atlas, but that’s besides the point ) so this is all a rather complicated affair! she is vulnerable and weak, is too aware of herself and the criminal underbelly squeezing in closer … add this on top of her still heavily grieving and having no one she feels she can talk to, you have someone who is rather changed. mitzi is so far removed from herself and who she truly is, or was, that there’s no doubt it’s affected her type ; now she’ll settle for anyone if they’ll just help her, and even then she’d be dispassionate if romantic entanglement of any kind was involved in that relationship. it’s not something she wants right now, and honestly, it all seems scary and daunting … besides atlas, zib was the only other man she’s ever loved enough to stay around for, so she’s never faced a loss like this before. has kept zib throughout all the turmoil and changes -- so this is, as far as we know, her first major loss where it concerns matters of the heart. it’s not shocking she’s so messed up after it, especially given how fresh it all still is. all of this rambling is to say that mitzi’s a little more stingy and cagey then she used to be about love or sex, and she has a lot of inner battles to face before she can fall for someone and be sure about it. needs to thaw, i think, and she would require patience and understanding from anyone who actually wanted to be with her. mitzi could move on with time ( i do not think she’s the type of widow who’d never date again! ) but it would take quite some time to do so. well, in a world where she’s allowed / is able to heal anyway!
while her type would probably remain the same, i could see her wanting a serious relationship more than she did prior to the death of her husband. has no energy for the loopholes, or the rationalizations, or the fickle nature that can grip someone’s heart. she has matured in a lot of ways since her band days and would take comfort in frivolous things like labels and promises of a future, together, as lovers. while what she had with zib was nice and is cherished alongside the freedom to do as she pleased while on the road with the band, i don’t think she misses it. having the stability and assurance of an actual relationship, with all the hardships that come with it, would be better suited for her. as long as she’s treated like an equal of course! i don’t think she’d be keen on her partner hiding anything from her, even if it’s meant to protect her, due to where that put mitzi when atlas was killed. she’d rather know and be disgusted, or worried, or scared than to not know about something at all until it’s too late … again. naturally patience and compassion would also be of importance, as would the usual things she loves like loyalty and a passion for something in life. and while never required, she’d be happy if the person possessed even a singular musical bone in their body! she still thinks artists, particularly musicans, are sexy after all … likes the angst and brooding that comes with it, the slight flare towards the dramatics … as long as they can handle mitzi in her pitiful entirety and do, to some degree, care deeply for her and will compromise … i think she could find some happiness wherever. bonus points if she can live comfortably for the rest of her days too, lord knows she’s tired of the constant battle of hucking and bargaining.
but yeah! mitzi’s love life is vast and complex and i definitely see her as someone who is more flexible in type than other people are. though there are similarities between her suitors if you really look! anyway, i hope i was able to briefly touch upon this subject because my shipping brain loved your question and kinda went into overdrive, alas. tldr ; her ideal type is wick sable. sorry. once wick learns an instrument the wedding is back on!! … i’m kidding lol. well, mostly <3
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mantisgodsdomain · 7 months ago
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We ought to write more Pokemon fic some time. We want to recreate the Pokemon Manners/Human Manners cheat sheet that we made a few years ago we think that this site would like the Sliding Scale Of Politeness When Greeting A New Pokemon You've Never Met Before.
#we speak#writing#we grew up with pmd games and we feel like the way that pmd pokemon's dialogue tends to be excessively... direct?#should be a feature and not a bug when any pokemon that you meet might be totally unfamiliar with your species and biology#it's probably very polite to start up front with some basic facts about yourself so they know how to act going forward#the very upfront feel to dialogue also very much helps with keeping the dialogue feel more... pokemon#people mock the series for weird npc dialogue a lot but we think that taking these things literally makes for more fun society building#it doesn't all have to fit with socially acceptable for our world we think. polite in our world isn't even consistent by household.#sometimes a polite interaction sounds like “hello! i'm poochyena! i like to chase people and bite!”#name and immediately socially useful information. now you know about the chasing people and biting so you don't assume it's rude#of course poochyena bites and chases people. it likes to do that. you can say you don't like that and it might stop doing that to You#but it will not stop biting and chasing people because that's what it likes to do and it will probably only befriend people okay with that#it makes a very specific dialogue feel that's very fun to do. we like how the pokemon world tends to treat any sort of like#disability or “weird” things as something that you just say out the gate and everyones like “oh okay”#and then treat that as Part Of Interactions going forwards. there are a surprising amount of parts of the pokemon manga#that are dedicated to working around a character's disability after one or all of their means of dealing with it get taken out#admittedly we aren't that caught up on newer content but we find the way that it tends to be just Accepted as very refreshing#making the dialogue this direct does also tend to make it read as more “childish” in english and particular because a lot of Maturity's jus#learning how to dance around what you're saying or phrase it in different ways to get your idea across differently#whereas here everything is just as direct as possible. “i don't like charmander”. “i like roasting berries”. “i want to dig things up”.#all pokemon dialogue tends to go towards being exceedingly simple and it makes for some very distinct writing#especially when you have to tackle complex situations with characters who probably dont employ that sort of vocabulary#though we personally enjoy doing this sort of stuff your mileage may vary ofc#we are biased towards this sort of thins because we find it MUCH more fun to build up what we're talking about from blocks#than to like. try and use more indirect wording that may lose things in translation#unfortunately this is not fun in irl conversation. everyone has to be on the same page and you need to use the same playbook to communicate#we REALLY wish people said what they meant though. we're really tired of being asked shit like “is this accessible”#when what they mean is “can you climb these stairs” a question which depends on the day our energy level and how things have been going#there are a lot of things we could say that would make us feel like some sort of anti sjw type guy and a lot of em boil down to just#"for the love of god dont dance around a Sensitive Topic just get to the point and ask us about it this just makes things harder for everyo
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aropride · 1 year ago
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i love psychology classes i love this shit. because i know like everyything but i get to share my opinions on the reading and i LOVE having opinions
#text#i definitely have a bone to pick with a lot of the field of psychology/psychopathology/etc & how it can be stigmatizing & traumatizing etc#for people who are already struggling with complicated and often disabling conditions and circumstances. and brother i'm picking it.#one thing i do hate about where i am like academically is that i know SO MUCH abt these topics but since all my informaiton has been from#therapy or from my own research i AM missing like. key points that i dont really know about. & thge stuff i know is definitely biased#towards things i'm more interested in or things i've researched for myself. but that means i spend like 14 weeks of class alreadty knowing#everytrhing and 2 just fucking speedrunning some section of psychology i knoww nothing about. like neurowhatever stuff i dont#get much at all like the physical brain/biology stuff. i vaguely know what a neurotransmitter is and the frontal lobe is the thing that doe#doesnt stop developing at 25 but everyone thinks it does. and thats all ive really got#like i do definitely need portions of these entry level classes but also ughhhhh. i know what anxiety is sherrie#Also i dont plan on pursuing psychology for like a career atm i just do not think i could handle a lot of jobs int he field and again i#am fairly critical of the field . i don't know enough about like antipsych stuff to have an opinion on that but i know that psychiatrists#often suck ass! and it's great when they dont but they often do. i don't remember what i was saying here
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katyspersonal · 10 months ago
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I know we don't talk and there's stuff we may not agree with. But I am truly sorry you've dealt with a lot of drama over fictional crap. And I'm sorry if my posts in the past ever contributed to that. Hope you have a better day.
Hey... That's all fine, don't worry! After all, it takes a lot of time and Insight to realise that Gehrman is a very gentle and respectful man and Godrick is an absolute gigachad kdkdkshdffhhgfds /lh /lh
But yeah, on a serious note. It was quite frustrating to find out the real motivation under all that... mess was something so pathetic, but at the same time this is what happens when people make engagement with media and fandoms a moral, political act. Not necessarily a problem, after all, I was the one who concluded that the way a fan judges fictional characters and other fans will very well reveal how cruel they are to real people who do something bad, or how much they will forgive based on personal sympathies. And my mad ravings about caring about female characters! I think the problem comes when a fan is so insecure that they have nothing else besides this defence of ideals through fandomry. If your only way to assert yourself is to be a good guy punishing the bad guys, and that mad raving loredigger discovers there is NO bad guy, what is left of you?
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This is why it is crucial to have passion for nurturing rather than for undermining! I think if you speak like this, you've found this truth too? This is true that I don't know you very much (mutual-in-law thing), but to be honest.. you didn't poison my fandom experience at all? I tend to never be aware about discourse until someone basically calls me for help fhdhgsdgdfs Can't scout the fandom tag regularly!
But not only it actually was a quite long ago I saw a "negative" post from you, but also I've seen through the posts that my friends liked or reblogged from you that you've actually became very eager person to defend people's passion and interests! I think the post that particularly got stuck with me was when you resented seeing someone's light die after some Redditor asshole "well aktualy"'d a thing they were excited about creating (not exact wording but maybe you remember too)? Like... you are fine, man. At that point I realised that you were a good fan and in the end valued people's creativity and passion over personal preferences. That you never wanted to be THAT guy, even if your interpretation could not be further from someone else's. Coming to terms with what actually matters in fandomry is very mature and I am happy to see this attitude!
I am still glad that you messaged me about this though; I did not expect this, but thank you! I think I will continue getting involved in fictional discourse because my autistic senses cannot ignore factually incorrect takes with a clear insidious motive, and.. eh, sooner or later, I'll piss off the wrong guy again. Don't feel bad for me when it inevitably happens :p I've accepted the shortcomings when I decided to be the debate guy. Simply laughing at some gremlin starting a discourse with the girls in DMs and not stressing over it is only funny until I realise that newer fans could get misinformed right off the bat.
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trans-leek-cookie · 8 months ago
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the thingw the orcs in dunmeshi is sth i skirt around bc like u said it is. not a great modern take on orcs. obv not the worst it could be and kui at least did engage w trying to write a more involved lore on them rather than just having this be the same “orcs are big uncivilized brutes” version 8000000 but that element is still there. and i do think “its not the worst” is hardly what i would want to set my highest expectations to jdhdgksgd
tumblrs being a bitch n not letting me put images in so I'll just paste the text from the other ask
Nodding. ty for the info on the ways halfling racism can be compared to irl examples in “the middle east” like that rly is such a close comparison i wonder if it was at all intentional… AND FR on the whole . wishing we knew what they called themselves bc the “halfling” “half foot” thing i rly cant help but think abt how it feels like irl examples of certain groups being denigrated to category slurs its like. LOL. dunmeshi makinh me feel party to fictional racism and microaggressions against my will...
Idk Abt skirting around bc I think it's smthn we should face head on, but at the same time I'm not in a place where I can really add onto the discussion wrt orcs as a white/East Asian person. IIRC ppl have said tolkiens orcs are black and/or central Asian (Mongolian I believe) coded, which is meaningful cause he's influenced so much of modern fantasy, and thats. Y'know. Not great. Also the orcs in dungeon Meshi are essentially an indigenous group from what I remember so that's also a whole mess. Again, my opinions arent very meaningful when it comes to this, but I feel like it's incredibly disappointing to see an author who's clearly capable of nuanced and interesting commentary on racism in the context of real life and fiction (even if it's not always great it's clear she's thinking about it in some depth) really just. Fall back on tropes. Bc for the other races - human is a wider category than usual, tall men aren't always the Everyman, elves are long lived but that doesn't make them wiser, and halflings are mature, worldly and resourceful, which I feel like does a lot to break free of typical fantasy pigeon holeing. But the orcs are just sorta... The Bad Guy but Not That Bad I guess? Theoretically it's a departure from the "super evil forever no exceptions" idea of the but it's still so far behind what needs to be done to make it less of a lazy, racist trope.
Yeah, again I'm not west Asian or Arab like I said, but between reading stuff ppl online write n talking to my Iraqi friend + rereading dungeon Meshi and really trying to analyze it, it kinda stood out to me. I will say I was a little unconfident posting about it bc it's 3 things (4 if you count the name note) but theyre still really notable at least to me. The hand/foot cutting is I feel the most explicit? Because that's such a fucked up stereotype it just stands out immediately. I don't necessarily know if the half foot/middle east connection was intentional, because I assume Japan/Asia in general has a different relationship with West Asia (since they are the "far east" in comparison, so "Middle East" wouldnt really make sense?), but it could be one of those things that colonialism managed to spread. I'm not very knowledgeable about that, but even if it wasn't intentional I think it's a very interesting parallel in how language can be used to categorize people as "normal/other". So i can't say if its intentional or not, but it's definitely an interesting lens to consider the story thru. Id also say I believe halflings are said to be native to a place that's east from where the story takes place, but not the eastern continent (which is p much easy Asia). I've seen some ppl take this to mean eastern Europe, and I don't think that's wrong, but I think u could also think of it as west Asia? Idk if we ever got much info on it in story, so I might be missing some details. (Honestly I'd personally HC that halflings are generally mixed Eastern European/West Asian- not to conflate the two, but rather Im imaging the majority of them are in a kinda blended culture).
#Talking Abt my Iraqi friend again- they're not into Dungeon Meshi but I did chat w them bc I was interested in if they had any thoughts#Abt my conclusions wrt halflings marginalization resembling the way Arabs r stereotyped and they did agree w me on the stuff I brought up#But they're just one person (and my friend) so if any Arabs/West Asians disagree w me Id prob defer to their judgement on the matter#I will say half lings aren't one to one w arab stereotypes bc the ones my friend complained Abt a lot are gender related#(eg. The idea of the violent Arab man and the eternally victimized Arab woman) and those among others aren't really present#As stereotypes about half lings (besides stealing the big one is infantilization which I'd say reminds me of how east Asians are often#Treated by being either fetishized or desexualized bc of their ''youthful appearance''. I specify east Asians bc that's what I'm familiar#With and I don't want to make assumptions Abt other Asians experiences or wrongfully generalize#Anyway I won't lie I initially went in to my reread (besides just wanting to experience the story again) wondering if I could argue#Chilchuck was east Asian and while there's some stuff (mainly infantilization and potentially the money stuff) I realized their#Marginalization resembled Arab ppls marginalization more at least from my perspective#So yea. Again not any sort of authority on the topic but once I noticed I couldn't stop thinking Abt it and now I've typed a lot of words
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gibbearish · 9 months ago
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are we really back to "oh you support (blank)? name ten people who (do/are) that right now or else youre lying for allyship points and everything you have to say should be disregarded". i thought we left that back in like. 2012 misogynist nerdbro culture
#i have seen it on two entirely separate topics lately and its like. hello?????#'if you cant name 10 trans authors off the top of your head you shouldnt be talking about trans issues full stop.#i dont think thats an unreasonable expectation for anyone wanting to engage in rational discourse' how about we all go outside#because like yeah i couldnt name you too many trans authors but given my transgenderismness i think i do in#fact still deserve a seat at the table. and i dont think there should be a prerequisite academic education level to be allowed to talk.#'but you could find them for free-' yes‚ you can‚ but people should still be allowed to a) choose what they read based#off of what interests them and not mildly-to-extremely dense nonfiction writing and still Talk About Their Own Lives And Have#Opinions#shockingly not reading a lot of one specific type of author doesnt prevent a person from having reasonable and valuable opinions#if youre not capable of parsing someones argument because theyre not well-read enough then that just imo means you dont actually understand#the things youve read to be able to give them a synopsis#this isnt school. we're not being graded. there is no required reading and you are perfectly capable of giving people an#explanation on your stances if theyre unfamiliar with them#i had a b) but i dont remember what it was‚ i think it probably was part of what i covered there that i thought was a separate thought#but yeah just like. idk you can just say 'hey i would really recommend reading xyz but to summarize‚ (thing that disproves them)'#it is not . difficult to either Explain yourself or‚ if that is not possible‚ Not be condescending to the person youre not willing to teach#for not knowing#ill stop there bc ive already done that ramble before but. yes#origibberish#edit: ok upon reread i got turned around and switched from addressing the less educated one conveying their arguments#to the more well read one#bc that was the b is i was gonna talk about both#yall get what i mean though just like. split it in half and flip it turnways
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nistarot · 1 year ago
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something on my mind lately that i'm not sure entirely how to phrase is like - this is mostly targeted at white trans influencer types, but i find something very grating on the kind of body negativity posting i see in relation to dealing with body dysmorphia. now, body dysmorphia/dysphoria are something that anyone can experience, and not everyone does, and it's different for different people. however, i take issue with the content made around learning how to "pass" by hiding your body, and specifically the language used for it. primarily i see this around "wide hips", and i do see the need and/or want for clothing tips that help people feel comfortable in their bodies, and i don't think there is anything intrinsically wrong with this content's primary goal. however, as trans owned/focused fashion brands are becoming more in number, i'm finding that the representatives i am seeing for these brands are overwhelmingly white, skinny, transmasc individuals. and the language used to market their products is one that is, i think, meant to be addressing dysphoria, but it comes across to me as a narrowly defined negative view. as someone with a larger chest and a larger/stockier frame, all of the tips about "hiding" my wider hips can do nothing tangible for my appearance. you cannot hide genuinely large/noticeable features of your body; trust me, i've tried for years to do so, and sometimes i still try in vain to wear the straight jeans and the special cut tee shirts, and it just leaves me feeling worse because i am not the target audience of these tips. i am not skinny. i also do not think i subscribe to this belief that wide hips are a "dead giveaway" that will prevent you from passing; i think that (and other such beliefs) honestly is rooted in bioessentialist beliefs that i wish we would all unpack and be a lot better off without.
it is not to say that skinny trans people's issues with their bodies are not valid or not okay to talk about. but i do think that rebranding body negativity into the language of progressive thought is unfair and cruel whether it is shaving razor ads telling women that they are beautiful no matter what but that doesn't mean stop shaving, or if it is a skinny, flat chested, white trans person telling me that all trans people are wonderful but more importantly how much their wide hips bother them - and how a product can "fix" both of these issues.
and how am i meant to feel about this whole thing, anyway? if this skinny person's hips are too wide, then what the hell is wrong with me? there is inherent comparison in self hate. putting yourself down will only lead to holding bias against those who are "worse" than you (whether you're aware of it or not) & broadcasting to all the other people with the feature you hate about yourself are surely also ugly or inferior in the same way you believe yourself to be. i don't think body dysmorphia should not be talked about. i do think that talking about it in the language of product placement and brand marketing is doomed from the start. when a skinny person says that their hips are too wide, their jaw is too soft, they hate their nose and with a chest like theirs they'll never pass, i earnestly have no idea what to possibly say, because in their self hate they have entirely vilified me. i am short and stocky with muscle and my jaw is soft and i have acne and wide hips and a large chest. how am i meant to feel safe with those who believe my features to be their worst nightmare? how can i build community with you when i can imagine how you preen in the mirror over your 110 lb build and how awful it is?
this is what is meant when we talk about self love as a form of resistance. you cannot expect to be a safe person as long as you hate yourself for being human.
#and i think there's a lot to add here and a lot of caveats too#bc you're not like. a bad person bc of body image issues#i certainly have my fair share#but instead of focusing on fixing my problem (read: lose a shit ton of weight and become conventionally attractive)#i am choosing that i want to be a safe person that others can feel comfortable with.#and to do that i know i cannot be hypocritical in how i speak about myself#there are many ways of coping with and handling body image issues that do not involve Buying Products To Hide Your Body#one that helps me is that trying clothes on in the store made me breakdown#so i dont do that anymore#i get a good solid understanding of my size at home#and learn how to take the measurements and eyeball if something will fit me#and i go to stores and buy clothes based on that and i dont try them on#if they dont fit in my own room i can be a lot kinder to myself than if they dont fit at the mall#and i can return them or alter them or give them away#long post#body img//#ask to tag#just. could say so much more on this topic but ywah im fed up with it#love yourselves now this is not a request. at the very least stop allowing yourself to hate yourself#easier said than done yes yes but doable nonetheless#and i mean it about being safe for others. i do not like talking about my own struggles with skinny people bc i do not trust#them to be safe people that understand where i'm coming from. i wish it was not that way#but it is. and maybe it would be different if i was speaking to a skinny person that was body positive for themselves and others#and it is and has been. but often that is not the case
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yelloworangesoda · 2 days ago
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im in a bad mood.
#i say it a lot but i dont know what i like about drawing its just the thing i do. i do LIKE the idea of drawing. sometimes i want to do it#and everything. i spend hours on it. i sit down and spend time on it. it is a hobby of mine. its my creative outlet besides... talking to#myself. and now ai i guess. and on the topic i do feel like im like a fake artist because if i could imagine an image and have it made in#seconds. i would. does that make me not an artist.#i dont enjoy learning. i dont like learning. i dont want to learn things and i dont want to put in effort. does that just#make me a lazy asshole waiting until i can just imagine things and be happy. i dunno#i dont know if i would stop drawing if that was possible. i think im just depressed. as per usual. but i feel bad#and i feel bad that im not drawing so im not getting attention so i feel worse#not that drawing gives me attention. if it wasnt for the part of me that desperately wants to believe that if i just keep trying ill blow u#and people will like me and care about my work id delete my stupid social media accounts. i post here so much and beg beg beg beg beg for#likes to no avail. nobody owes me anything. if i want to succeed i have to try harder. i have to keep trying. it doesnt matter if it never#ever works. if i keep trying ill get something to show for it. if i try hard and like a work maybe one day someone else will like it too#not today. or tommorow. or next year. or the year after that or any decades in my lifetime but one day#i dont even believe i do try that hard. i cant i dont have the energy. makes it easier to blame myself. i used to post every day and did#better. i used to draw fanart and did better. i used to be more social and did better. and i stopped and now i did worse for what. for my#mental health? for my personal want? its not helping#simons spouting
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pastel-peach-writes · 2 months ago
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Hii, i just read all and i mean ALL of ur fics, but i saw you wrote for arcane women and was wondering if you could write headcanons abt them with a socially awkward/anxious reader?? If not thats A-Ok 👌 with me
Sure! How is everyone doing after the first three eps? I still haven't seen it but the edits I've seen... oh boy.
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"I Got You." | Arcane Ladies Headcanons
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╰┈➤ PLOT: How the ladies of Arcane(Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Sevika, Mel) act with a socially awkward and/or anxious partner
╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Spoiler Free, On The Shorter Side, Cursing, Not Proofread
⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ
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JINX
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– At first, Jinx didn't get that you were socially awkward. She was used to people being awkward or even scared around her so she thought it was the same case with you until you two got closer.
– After knowing that your awkwardness was just you and not your fear of her, she observed you in social situations and noted what made you more anxious than normal.
– For example, she noticed you're more anxious and timid in bigger, louder spaces but if a space was quiet and quaint, you would be just fine so she often took you to quiet places for dates.
– If Jinx notices you're anxious in places you typically aren't, without a doubt she's removing you from the situation and taking you home where you can relax. No words, just grabs and tugs.
– She's tried the pep talk route before but it ended up in her rambling and somehow planning a terrorist scheme aloud... (yeah, a few patrons quickly left the area after hearing that), so she decided to scrap that idea altogether.
– At home though she would prepare what she calls, "A Safety Nest". It was a place in your shared space that had all your favorite things and trinkets, and she usually kept the space dimly lit and played your favorite music to calm you down.
– In social interactions where you take the lead in conversation, Jinx would quietly encourage you with big, almost alarming smiles and "gentle" pats on your back. Let's face it, Jinx can be socially awkward herself.
– Once the conversation concludes, she'll jump on you proudly, ruffle up your clothing, and pinch your cheeks endearingly all while calling you weird nicknames and quoting what you said while mimicking your tone and cadence.
––
VI
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– Before you've had your first real conversation together, Vi could sense that you were an anxious individual.
– You fidgeted with your body while speaking, didn't hold eye contact long, and used a decent amount of filler words to casualize your sentences.
– She thought it was endearing to watch you act and move as if you thought no one truly cared about what you were saying or were afraid of boring others but you never bored her. She didn't think it was possible.
– You had tells and quips that revealed themselves with each conversation you two had. You showed more and more of your personality the more you got comfortable with her too. Vi loved it.
– When you spoke to her, especially when you went on tangents about things you were interested in, she always showed signs of active listening by nodding and asking follow-up questions. Even days later, she'll bring up the topic again to see if you have any updates.
– She made you feel seen and heard, something you've subconsciously craved. And when you went on your worry rambles, she consoled you and tried her best to stop you from spiraling.
– You thought about a lot of things and oftentimes about things no one else thought about. Vi thought your brain must've been exhausted with all the worries, doubts, and judgments that were usually wrapped up as others' but were truly your own; it was a lot for one person to handle so she strove to let you know that you were not alone.
– Is there a night you can't sleep because of your racing mind? Vi is there, holding you or reassuring you that everything is going to be okay. She can't sleep until you do anyway so why not speed the process along?
– You often had yourself stuck with your head stressing and worrying about multiple things at once and Vi was always there to bring you down to Earth.
__
CAITLYN
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– Caitlyn's an encourager and a comforter with you.
– She's patient and silently allows you to take your time when gathering your thoughts midconversation but she'll also be the one to say, "It's okay, take your time," in the sweetest way possible.
– If there's an instance when you two are out and about and you really want something but are too scared to get it, she'll spring into action and get that thing for you. (Even if it was just a napkin).
– The only time she's frazzled socially is when you both are in an unfamiliar area and need to ask for directions. She'll stumble over her words and try to get someone's attention but they're moving too fast to hear her soft words.
– She'll get frustrated and you end up comforting her, but after a few backrubs, she's ready to try again. Her voice is strong and powerful, and people have no problem hearing her.
– You secretly thank whomever you have to for her determination but there was no way in hell you were going to walk up to a stranger and ask for directions like a tourist... which you were.
– Since Caitlyn's job has her socializing with a lot of people, she can get burnt out easily. Especially if work hasn't been going her way lately but even if she's burnt out and tired, if you seem to be more awkward or anxious than her, she's more than happy to step up socially.
– When you both have someplace to attend to or some event that holds significance, Caitlyn will not hesitate to stage a "social rehearsal" with you. She'll make flashcards of topics you could bring up, you'll both dress accordingly for the event in her living room, and she'll pretend to be an assortment of people so you can get used to different personalities all at once.
– It may seem like this is all for you, but honestly it helps her too. Sometimes she misses the personal cues of conversation leading the other to think she's a black-and-white thinking who has no time for pleasanties. Not true! She's very pleasant... sometimes she's just shy.
– Shyness is not a crime!
– After talking with the host and a few others she has to talk to due to her job, her social battery is depleted. She's extremely thankful you're able to recognize this and suggest leaving early. What would you two do without each other?
––
SEVIKA
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– Oh, man. This lady found your awkwardness charming as hell.
– Your awkwardness was different than all the nerds and scaly-beings she's forced to be around. You were cute, looked perfect sitting next to her, and your awkwardness, as mentioned before, had a certain charming quality she can't quite place.
– She'll see you in your workplace trying to make casual conversation or small talk but none of your topics seemed to be landing. Your coworkers would give you a thin pressed-lips smile that she wanted to strike off of them to your attempts and then scoff at you behind your back.
– You were authentically yourself and those bastards didn't know what to do with it. They were scared, not her though.
– When you two got closer and comfortable enough with each other that you could tease one another or make playful jabs at the other's expense, no doubt she would tease you about your awkwardness.
– With those gorgeous eyes of yours, you would look everywhere else but her own, prompting her to say, "You know you can look me in the eyes, right? I won't bite", with the stupidest most shit-eating smirk on her face. And then when you look at her, a bit shocked and playfully annoyed, her smirk would only grow. "Unless you want me to."
– Sevika never made your awkwardness seem like a flaw. Your awkwardness came with you and she wanted all of you so she often encouraged your awkwardness.
– If she caught you trying to "reel" it in or realizing that you've talked for a few seconds too long, she'll playfully scold you and tell you to continue or to "let it out". Y'know. As someone who seethes dominance does.
– There would be an instance in which you go to Sevika asking for advice to be "less awkward" and her only response would be, "Why? I like your awkwardness, you don't need to change it. Anyone else who thinks otherwise is a sad loser and don't deserve to be in your life anyways."
– like damnnnn, okay!
– Safe to say you never asked her a question like that again.
--
MEL
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– Mel understands your worries about what others think and the awkwardness that can come with it so she likes to help you in any way she can.
– If you're stressed about a council meeting and afraid of what everyone's going to think about the new perspective you'd like to bring to the table, she'll reassure you and tell you she's right by your side.
– If she can't physically with her hand on the small of your back, she give you nods of encouragement, raise her brows proudly, and look at you with that sense of pride and admiration in her golden eyes.
– After the meeting goes well, which she knew would, she'll congratulate you with your favorite drink and a night in doing all your favorite things.
– Even if there were parts in the meeting that were rocky, like the council people asking questions you weren't prepared for or getting rowdy, she'll say you did an excellent job and what you presented will help the people of Piltover.
– Oh, and don't think for a second that she wasn't sending glares and daggers to those who stirred up your anxiety even more. If looks could kill.
– Mel sees that sometimes your awkwardness and anxiety result in people-pleasing and she would shut that down real quick. She's fallen into that dangerous pool before and knows how hard it feels when you disappoint others and how much harder it is to get out of that mindset.
– She can get quite spirited with her encouragement...
– "Well, if they don't like it, that's on them! They don't know something good when they see it." "I've learned that hard way that you can't please everyone. You might as well say what you have to now. They can get over themselves later."
– It's actually quite attractive to see her stand up for you, even if she was standing up for the possibility.
– Always keeping her words in your mind, you find yourself navigating through life easier and you only have her to thank.
WC: 1,705
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sunhee27 · 3 months ago
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☆ Thing Enhypen do at night/ when they are sleeping.
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• 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ! r・fluff established relationship ・kisses, petnames (^-^) pls reblog if you like it and requests are welcome.
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(Sorry some of the letters are big, I can’t change it) :(
• 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)
-Pouts
The man pouts! Yes he does, especially when sleeping. It’s honestly the cutest thing ever. Of course he denies it, and that makes it even more cute in a way. “I don’t pout!” He whines into your ear after he is begging for a kiss and you tell him that you will only give him a kiss if he admits that he pouts in his sleep. He hugs you and cuddles you while whining. He whines again at you. “Kiss me!!!! >:(“ He ‘cries’ into you ear to which you just give in. You can’t help but give him a little peck on his pouty lips when he is snuggled against you.
-Switching spots
Do you know what I mean here? probably not. But like once you are asleep, you will turn to the other side, which Heeseung doesn’t like because he likes you facing him to hug you against his chest. Or sometimes he likes back hugging you. So when you turn around, he IS gonna scoop you up and put you on his side of the bed, and he will switch to being on your side of the bed, so that he can hug you in his desired position.
(Rest of the members under the cut)
• 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)
-Stealing blankets
It’s tiring and it annoys you, but you kinda live for it when he steals your blanket. He doesn’t even seem to notice himself. It’s just a habit he picked up. If he steals yours, you steal his! And that goes on and on. But you don’t complain…only a little. “Stop stealing my blanket at night.” You say. “Man, but yours is always warmer.” He pouts. “Get over it. You can just hug me if it is.” You scoff. “I would…IF I COULD CONTROL MYSELF WHEN I AM SLEEPING.” He argues back pulling you by the waist. “Fine. It doesn’t bother me more than that. But only because I love you so much.” You give up.
-Strokes your hair
When he notices that you have fallen asleep, he will just stroke your hair as a reflex almost 😅 And sometimes you will stir awake, to which he apologises faster than light itself. But honestly you only woke up because it felt nice to have your hair stroked.
• 𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)
-Talks
Who would’ve thought, jakey jakey talks in his sleep. He mumbles and talks, rambling about his day, about you 🥺 You voice recorded him saying that you were his princess. And it may have boosted his boyfriend ego. “Did I say that?” He laughs at it. ”Clearly yeah.” You giggle back, he connects your foreheads. “Do you know what that means?” He hovers over you in the bed. ”No” you giggle again. “That I am obsessed with you.” He smiles.
-Does tasks
Broski think you go to bed too early, even if he is the first of all members to go to sleep. So he will just cuddle up with you until you fall asleep, and then… get ready for bed. Doing tasks, all sort of tasks. And you would wake up slightly, still half in dream land. ‘it’s just an illusion’ he would say when he notices that he woke you up. Because he doesn’t want to make you feel bad for making him cuddle with you until you fall asleep, even if he loves doing it.
• 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)
-Lightly snoring
Idols don’t snore… Bullshit! At least this man does. It’s cute when he makes small noises and groans at night. And he knows that he does it. And only just nervously laugh when the topic is brought up. His members tease him with it too. “I know I snore, but let’s just act like I don’t!!!” He says in an embarrassed tone. “But it’s cute.” You giggle. “No��” he pouts. But you will truly never stop teasing him about it.
-Swings leg around you
He sleeps late, looking at his phone. And out of nowhere he will probably swing a leg or two around you. Like they are heavy man! But you don’t mind it when he then pulls you closer with his legs :D Cute man indeed
• 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 (김선우)
-expressions
Believe me when I say. I think he dreams a lot. And his face shows it all, happy, sulky, mad, frustrated, scared. And as soon as you notice he is having a nightmare and breath is uneven, you will wake him up. And he will squirm before noticing it’s just his sweet girlfriend who is before his eyes. “You scared the shit outta me. But thank for waking me up.” He would say. And he would ask you to hug him for the rest of the night.
-Go to sleep early and wake up in the middle of the night
The title says it all. He would go early think it would be good for his beauty sleep. But he would then wake up in the middle of the night not being able to sleep at all. And would literally not give a shit about YOUR beauty sleep, and he would wake you up to gossip together until you both fall into slumbers again.
• 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 (양정원)
-Get cold and crawl under the blankets
It’s so cute to watch the little kitten crawl all the way under the blankets at night. Like he would roll himself into a little ball under the warmth of his blanket and then snuggle up to you. “Bllrr, it’s so colllddddddd.” He shivers. “Do you need an extra blanket.” You laugh sitting up beside him. “If you are the blanket, then yes.” He teases.
-Dry lips
Don’t ask me how he would literally, feel in his sleep, that his lips are chapped. But he would a million times in a night. And of course he would make sure to gloss up your lips too. So that his pretty girl is also satisfied with her lips in the morning.
• 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 (西村力)
-Moves a lot
He would absolutely destroy you, crush you with his six feet long body. He would roll in his sleep without noticing it and before he knows it you are about to fall of the bed. “Nikiiiiii, you are so heavyyy.” You whine under him. And shit he would wake up and be so embarrassed by it. “Sorryyy.” He would laugh. Definitely forgiven 👍
-Get up and get snacks
He would do something like this. He would wake up hangry. So he would check out the fridge then the pantry and then whatever else there is, before deciding to just toast a piece of bread. And then you would pop up and you would end up sitting in comfortable silence eating bread together.
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