#i didn’t have a clear relationship in mind but i think they’re silly

[obbystars]

Z-8: … Sebastian, I think we have to kill this one.

Sebastian, holding an already loaded gun: FINALLY

[always-just-red]

A/N: So I threatened a while back to write MC arresting Sylus since he literally won’t shut up about it. Thought this would be a silly fic but it ended up an angst-driven exploration of how his time with MC is probably finite and ill-fated?? Anyway Sylus is too soft for this, I’m sorryyyy (Sy I love you! I would never do this to you! ‘Didn’t it come from your imagination, though?’ Ssshhhh you don’t know what you’re saying!! 🥰)

To Remain Silent

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus has told you to arrest him one too many times...

Genre: Emotional rollercoaster honestly? Some angst, some comfort (and a lil spice for flavour)

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, vaguely established relationship, gets a little steamy at the end (mostly kissing tbh), artistic licence applied liberally since this would be WAY too risky for MC to actually attempt 😭😭

| Word count: 2.7k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus knows this isn’t real.

You watch him through the glass of his cell, and the subtle tint to it lets you know that he can’t watch you back. He’s sat on the single bench inside, leaning against the far wall, his long legs stretched out before him. His hands are cuffed— tucked away behind his back— but he still looks comfortable. More than comfortable: at ease. At home. Bored.

“You think I can’t feel those pretty little eyes of yours on me?” he mutters, head back, eyes closed. “I’m at your mercy, kitten. Are you really only going to look?”

You tap a button on the glass. “You should start taking this seriously.”

He smiles at the sound of your voice, but his eyes don’t open; there’s still nothing to see. “I’m taking it very seriously, sweetie.”

“I don’t think you are.”

The smile turns even more smug: a confession, all by itself. He sits up and leans forward, like someone who’s found a change of conversation to be interesting. His eyes open— managing to find you, somehow, and— can he see you? No. It’s an educated guess, he’s just selling it with confidence.

Leisurely, he rises from his seat and saunters over to the glass. “Let me see you,” he orders, then bargains: “Please? This is so very—” he toes the division— “one-sided.”

You can’t look him in the eyes, can you? This is hard enough without the windows to your soul baring your heart and your mind to him, like they always do. You should have worn those sunglasses he bought you for that undercover assignment. This is what they’re for, right? Hiding.

With a circular swipe of your finger, the glass before you clears and Sylus meets your gaze.

“Hi,” he teases.

You fold your arms across your chest. “Hey.”

“This is quite some effort you’ve gone to, kitten. And all for me, no less.”

“What effort?” you dismiss plainly. “You practically slapped those handcuffs on yourself.”

It’s not an exaggeration: from the cuffs to the ride here, not a single stage of his arrest has been resisted. The closest he’s gotten to a lack of cooperation was when you’d first restrained and dragged him from his study, where he’d been inclined to point out that the bedroom was the other way.

“Well, I didn’t want to cause a fuss,” he smirks. One of his hands is brought forward, and his handcuffs now hang uselessly from a finger. “Tell me,” he says, letting them swing as he holds your gaze, “what am I to expect now I’ve been so masterfully captured?”

You glance at the restraints, unmoved. “That isn’t for me to decide.”

A door behind you slides open, and— right on time— an altogether more impressive presence joins you before the cell. Sylus glances her up and down as the click of her heeled boots come to a stop; he has never met your captain, but he knows her face.

“You really cashed in all your favours, didn’t you, sweetie?” he observes. He turns to address the woman beside you: “We haven’t been introduced. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Jenna interrupts, her tone as incorruptible as yours.

Sylus’s arm lifts, resting on the glass above you so he can tower over you, despite the partition. “Is that right?” he purrs absent-mindedly, dropping his head so he can speak into your ear. “Sweetie… I thought you could keep a secret.”

He’s goading you into your usual game, but the stakes don’t interest you. “You were wrong.”

You’re at your own table, dealing your own cards. Does he want to play? You think he might. His lips are curving at the delicious prospect of a challenge. You’ve given him a taste of it. He wants more.

Jenna is studying her clipboard, acting oblivious. She senses the impasse. Asks Sylus: “Do you know why you’re here?”

He huffs impatiently. “Enlighten me.”

“Sylus,” you scold.

Red eyes widen a fraction.

You see it.

Good.

…

Sylus thinks this might be real.

You said his name. His real name: the one with sharp, bloody strings attached. The one on all the posters. The one in your precious Association’s archives, linked to stacks of files and crime scene photos, most of which he isn’t even responsible for.

Sylus. You said: Sylus. 

It was worthy of a grand reveal— the sort of plot twist that delivered the suspense of so many thrillers— but here you are, speaking it like it’s nothing. Not a slip of the tongue; not a mistake. And it’s different here. He’s not your Sylus. He’s theirs.

Their murderer. Their monster. Their convenient little scapegoat for everything dark and unholy.

The captain is reading him a list, reeling off every crime— each alleged sin. As if he needs a reminder. As if all the time in the world could ever let him forget. “Needless to say, Mr Sylus,” she summarises, “due to the nature of these crimes, you may prove exempt from our standard procedures. A case like this is… unprecedented. Onychinus has much to answer for. You have much to answer for.”

Sylus hasn’t really been listening; it’s all senseless bureaucracy. “You have the wrong man,” he says, because whatever you’re doing— whatever stunt this is— a confession is sure to derail it. You know that, don’t you? You must be counting on it: holding that guilty breath of yours and hoping he’s smart enough to not be Sylus.

You don’t look worried in the slightest. You must have an awful lot of faith in him.

He studies you, waiting for a small, deliberate smile or a moment of weakness. Give him a sign, don’t give him a sign— it doesn’t matter; he’ll find one. His intentions must be clearer than yours, because you step up to the glass to face him.

Do it, your silence says, even though the rest of you is illegible. You want to look? Look.

His eye could light like a crimson fire— could burn the truth out of you— but it won’t. It’s a promise he made what feels like a lifetime ago, not long after you’d met: Your thoughts and desires are yours to give, not his to take.

Even here. Even now. He’s a man of his word, after all.

Impressed? You smile faintly, but there’s no warmth to it. “Captain,” you speak, your eyes not leaving his, “can you give us a minute? Please?”

“Of course,” the woman answers with a nod.

Sylus does not see her go. He hears it: the retreating rhythm of her shoes. He feels it: it’s just the two of you, alone again. Well, the two of you and that ‘hidden’ camera in the far corner of the room. “Whatever game this is,” he grins good-naturedly, his teeth gritted, “it stops. Now.”

“It’s not a game, Sylus. I told you to take this seriously.”

“What are you doing?” he snaps, and that good-natured grin didn’t last very long. 

Your hands land on your hips. “My job.” When he scoffs, you continue: “Did you really think this would end any other way? After everything you’ve done?”

He laughs and it’s deeply sardonic. He’s no saint— to try to convince you he was would be a crime worthy of punishments far worse than this. But you know him. You know the line and what stands on each side of it: everything he’s done, yes, and everything he’s been made to take the fall for.

You wouldn’t do this to him. Would you? “You want to play pretend? Fine,” he hisses. He wants to wrap his Evol around that godforsaken camera and annihilate it. “You caught the big, bad boss of Onychinus— congratulations, sweetie. Sure. Let’s say that’s who I am. A man like that has power, right? So what’s to keep him— me— from escaping? Right now?”

“You’re not going to leave, Sylus. Wanna know why?”

He’s sure you’re going to tell him, and you do:

“Because you’re all talk. All smoke and mirrors. You want to go? Go. But there’s not a single person in this building who wouldn’t give their life to bring you back. Someone will catch up to you eventually, and what then?”

“I’ll have a lot of fun, I imagine.”

“You’ll do nothing,” you correct. “Because those people out there? They’re my friends. My family. You hurt them? You hurt me. Make all the threats you want, Sylus— we both know the truth.”

He towers over you, still, but it’s hard not to shrink at your next words:

“You don’t have it in you.”

Your eyes are sharp: whetted with resentment. Sylus is your reflection— your worthy opponent, always— but he just can’t look at you like that.

There’s a quiet hiss as you slide a finger over the cell’s control panel. White, neon light carves through the glass partition: two vertical lines that bleed upwards, either side of him, before bending to meet each-other. The glass between them shimmers, then fades.

Sylus stands on the precipice of the doorway, cool air crawling past him. He stares up at the camera, then down at you. Your arms have folded again as you watch him— a narrative of apathy.

“How about it, Sylus?” you ask bitterly. “Still think you can outrun fate?”

“No.” Not since it started wearing your face. Fate is you, putting a bullet in his heart, and him, waking up so you can do it over and over again. Maybe this is real. Maybe it isn’t. “What do you want from me?” he entreats softly, because you’ll get it— either way.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you sneer, and your hand shoots out, grasping a fistful of his shirt. You use it to drag him out of the cell, closer, lower, so that his face is mere inches from yours.

“No,” he repeats. “Say it.”

Your eyes burn like pyres: so dangerous, so beautiful, so suited to being the death of him. “I want you��” you begin, as they flit briefly to his lips— “to tell me…”

“What?”

“How you cheat at kitty cards.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?

Sure enough, you drop his shirt and burst into laughter— irrepressibly you again. The fire in your eyes has simmered down into something warm, safe, and comfortable, and— gods— you’re even crying. You’re doubled over, holding your stomach as though it hurts. You lift a hand to wipe your wet cheek. “Your face,” you get out between gasps, “oh, your face!”

Yours is not the only laughter, but it’s the only laughter Sylus hears.

“We so got you, Skye!” Tara’s vaguely familiar voice resounds from an intercom.

There’s some confusing static with it— more tittering voices— and Sylus suspects he’s found himself the star of your colleagues’ after-work entertainment. He puts his hands on his hips as he looks up at the camera. “Is the whole office—”

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping away another tear. “Figured it would be good for morale. Good practice, too.”

“Practice?”

“Mmhmm,” you confirm with a hum. You’ve apparently gotten a handle on the hilarity of the situation, because you approach him with something close to composure. Meditatively, you smooth down the fabric of his shirt. Straighten his collar. “For when we catch the real Sylus one day.”

He captures your wrists; that’s a lot of tenderness for someone who just tried to give him a heart attack. Maybe he’s a little too rough, because you pout at him in a way that makes him instantly soften his grip.

“You ok, Skye?” you enquire with an ironic smile and an adorable tilt of your head.

His thumbs are feathering over your pulse points, and slowly, he leans in to deliver a message, just for you: “If I say no, will you make it up to me?”

…

Sylus knows this is real.

His mouth is on yours and it’s relentless, desperate; you made him wait for it. How long has he been wanting to trap you against the nearest wall, just like this, so he can kiss you until he forgets just how cold you can be? 

He’s been very patient. He didn’t roll his eyes or utter a word of complaint when you’d dragged him to join your colleagues for dinner. It was your victory party, your ‘I made you look like an idiot’ party, but he was his usual, charming self, and your friends all adored him for it. They’d spun him the tale of his ‘arrest’— the planning, the preparation, and your lightbulb moment: 

“Hey, guys, have you ever thought about how Skye kinda looks like Sylus?”

Only he could understand how wickedly clever it was. His eyes had sought yours as he listened, lazy, content, and so obviously biding his time. You’d smiled at him. He’d smiled back. 

And he’d stayed smiling, even after the party was over and you’d had to walk a slightly-tipsy Tara home. She’d refused a taxi, insisted Sylus escort her— oh, and you could come, too! He’d lent her his arm: humoured every squeeze and chuckled at each remark about the size of it. You’d had to swat her away, in the end.

“I’m just teasing, y’know?” she’d giggled as the three of you arrived at her front door. “Skye knows I’m just teasing. You’re such a sweetheart, Skye. Imagine! You— the leader of Onychinus!”

She’d laughed, much too loud for such a quiet street, and with a less-than-subtle wink, left the two of you alone. Which is how you’d ended up here, in an alley around the back of her building, because it was Sylus’s turn to drag you somewhere. 

His attentions have moved lower; there’s a subtle clink as his fingers find the clasp of your shirt collar and he peels it back, exposing your neck. His lips leave yours, trailing down, down— past the line of your jaw and over the soft, vulnerable column of your throat. You gasp as he brushes over a sensitive spot, and you could swear you feel him smile.

He’s always been passionate, but this is a different fire, fuelled by something you can’t ignore, no matter how much you want to:

Relief. 

“Sy,” you murmur breathlessly, your hand in his hair, tugging gently. “Sy, stop.” 

“Mmm?” he acquiesces, voice sinfully low as the cold evening air takes his place kissing your neck. His eyes shine like blood spilt in the dead of night— lingering on you. He looks drunk.

You lift a hand to cup his face and run your thumb over his cheek. “I’ll never let anything happen to you, Sylus. You know that, right?”

Those dark eyes find clarity with your words, full of apprehension for just how naive you can be. The future will turn on you just as quickly as a wild animal someone boasts about having tamed, and aren’t you foolish, thinking you can control something like that? 

Besides, that’s his job.

“I know,” he says like he’s supposed to— ever the martyr, following the script. He goes to nuzzle into you again, but your hand is still tight in his hair and he groans as you use it to pull him back. 

“I mean it,” you reassert, forcing him to look at you. You don’t care that it’s ridiculous. You don’t care that fate is so hot on your heels that you have to keep running. You’re tired. He’s even more tired.

Isn’t it nice to stop and catch your breath?

Pretend you have time: His gaze is full of faith and oh, the world is going to enjoy punishing the two of you. “I know,” he insists, because this is the second time you’ve fooled him tonight. You feel his hand on your face and you let him kiss you— again, then again— so achingly slow, so arrogant. 

The world can wait; he wants to punish you first. 

“Do you really want to know—” he distracts as he finds that sensitive spot on your neck again— “how I cheat at kitty cards?”

The pad of his finger is chasing the path of his mouth; it tickles. You whine: “Tell me later, Sy.”

“Ok,” he breathes against you.

Later. There’ll be a later.

Won’t there?

[rivetgoth]

The fact that I’ve seen a few people try to analyze I Saw the TV Glow through a lens of it being about like, fandom and obsession with media and nostalgia being bad ?? is genuinely blowing my mind. Obviously there’s the fact that this movie is as unambiguously about being trans as it can possibly be without just saying outright “this is a movie about being trans” but I also think this is crazy because I would say it actually has one of the most unambiguously positive relationships with concepts like “media consumption” and “nostalgia” that I’ve seen in a movie.

Like, to say it’s a shallow interpretation of the film to call it “about media/fandom” (and especially a negative depiction of such things!) is putting it quite kindly because I kind of feel that anyone who utters such sentiments didn’t actually understand the core element of the entire movie: “The Pink Opaque” is not a show. Commentary the film makes about watching “The Pink Opaque” cannot translate to commentary on watching shows broadly because the movie spends half its runtime making it explicitly clear that “The Pink Opaque” may be a show that exists in a literal sense but is not one in a figurative sense. “The Pink Opaque” represents the possibilities of childhood and innocence. Innocence that still is not free from judgment—Owen gets told the show is for girls, Maddy’s friend accuses her of sexual harassment on account of her sexuality while they were watching it together—but it’s the moment in your youth (or any time! it doesn’t have to go away!) when the possibility of queerness and more explicitly queer utopia feels real to you. The external pressures to conform are still there but you can tune them out if just for a moment to envision a future and a life for yourself free of it and living authentically. I think this is an experience all LGBT people can relate to, but in the case of ISTTVG it’s very explicitly primarily focusing on queer femininity, predominantly transfemininity, but in Maddy’s case as well she is a queer woman (I’ve seen some interpretations of her as transmasculine but I disagree personally). Hence the on-the-nose nature of it being PINK.

What feels very genius about Schoenbrun making it about a show though is that it’s so generational, right? For all of us LGBT people who grew up in the age of screens that WAS where a lot of that early imagination going wild resided. The first time you explore a new name is on anonymous forums. The first time you explore your masculinity or femininity is with which character you relate to in a show, or which gender you select in Pokémon. Movies and shows with “queer subtext” or even without give young LGBT people the chance to envision relationships and futures for themselves, what many grow up and call “shipping.” You have your first gay crush while watching your favorite movies. You envy those of your true gender while watching your favorite movies. Amongst many other things when Maddy watches “The Pink Opaque” she’s given access to a world where two women share this intimate connection and overcome obstacles together. When Owen watches “The Pink Opaque” they’re given access to a world where femininity is a real option for their future.

The relationship these characters have to “The Pink Opaque” is a net positive and the movie makes that so incredibly obvious when Owen goes back to rewatch it later and finds that it’s nothing like how they remembered, it feels childish and immature and dumb. That is a bad thing. This is a bad thing. The movie wants you to see this as a bad thing. This is the result of repression, of conversion therapy, of violent coercion into normative lifestyle—That sense of limitless possibility is destroyed and the idea of accessing one’s transness, of imagining this utopia where you CAN be yourself and live as a woman, strong and beautiful on the other side of the screen as said in the film, is lost. Now you tell yourself it feels silly, it feels childish to imagine such things, it’s not nearly as deep and meaningful as you believed it was when you were younger and less inhibited, or it’s at the very least easier to tell yourself that. Owen’s feeling embarrassed is of note here. If it weren’t for these external pressures that have been internalized they very well may have been able to still enjoy the show, even as they’ve aged and grown and matured, even if their perspective has changed a little. But they can’t. Not yet, at least.

I feel kind of out of my mind seeing people try to approach it through a lens of commentating on media consumption because it’s so deeply missing the layers of what’s actually being said… and not even in a wildly obfuscated way. The movie is ABOUT the relationship these characters have to “The Pink Opaque” and how the loss of that is a bad thing. How you can possibly watch it and see it being about some kind of growth from obsessive media consumption is mind boggling to me. Seeing multiple reviews and posts in tags about it is crazy. One thing I really like about this movie is that it so confidently argues for a more positive interpretation of being obsessed with “fantasy” and the childlike wonder of the limitless possibilities of fiction. I think that’s a very very trans narrative, as I mentioned it feels tied deeply into Queer Utopia, and I find it much more bold of a stance to take. In a world where people tell trans individuals (and especially trans women) that their identities are works of fiction or products of the imagination or even caused by excessive media consumption, to embrace these things and turn them over and use them as a symbol of the whimsy and innocence and excitement that first ignites that spark as a positive, thrilling, beautiful thing is very cool.

[drabblesandimagines]

Sweet & Salty

I'm feeling a bit sad today so wanted some comfort... Sebastian x (afab) reader, Stardew Valley, Fluffity fluff Warnings: Mention of recreational drug use

-

It’s been a day. You’d sat down heavily on your porch steps, trying to keep the tears at bay. You should probably go mope in your bed, instead of staring at the land that is causing you so much distress. Despite your carefully placed scarecrow, you must’ve miscalculated the distance because the crows have still had a go at your most recent plantings and that’s hard-earned money down the drain - again. You’ve been here two months now and, surely, by now you should know better. The farm has been somewhat transformed since you arrived - a mass of weeds, stone and dead branches - but it’s nowhere near how you remember it in your grandpa’s heyday. He would’ve never made such a rudimentary error in his scarecrow placement.

Some of the fences around your crop patches have started to erode too – it won’t be long until they need replaced, but you’re trying to save up your wood supplies to put in a coop from Robyn. You desperately want to add chickens to the farm as eggs would be steady income – or at least you reckon – but you also don’t want them pecking at your crops alongside the crows, so having a fence seems important too. Your endless to-do list swirls around your head again. Why’s everything so hard?

It's not just your failings on the farm on your mind, but also your lack at making any real friends around here. Shane glared at you this morning as he headed off to work. That’s not unusual, despite your best efforts of a smile and a friendly greeting. Then Haley looked you up and down, judging your dirty dungarees. You’d only popped into town to get some seeds from Pierre’s. It didn’t make sense to get changed… Elliott is sweet but locked away in his cabin most of the time, Emily in her own little world… Sebastian, Sam and Abigail have invited you to play pool with them, but they’re such a tight-knit group and you always feel like you’re missing out on the joke, especially when you were partnered up with Sebastian. He’d been teaching you how to hold the cue correctly, leaning over you, his breath tickling your ear. Sam and Abigail kept nudging each other and whispering, but you couldn’t catch what about and it was clear Sebastian was becoming irritated. You’d begun to think they were making fun of your abysmal pool skills.

Ugh. Your emotions are a rollercoaster and the twisting pain in your stomach reminds you why – stupid period. It emerged with a vengeance this morning. It had stopped in your last months of JoJo Corp. There was no chance you were pregnant, your last intimate relationship fizzling out a year previously, though you’d taken tests just to be sure. The doctor in Zuzu City said you were stressed, burnt out… that it would return once you were feeling better in yourself. So why had it returned now, of all times? You feel more stressed and burnt out than ever before, regretting ever moving here. Why did you think you could become a farmer…?!

The barrier finally breaks and you let out a sob, hugging your knees.

To your shame, there’s a scuffing footstep and your heart stops as you look up, worried who’s seen your breakdown.

“Sebastian?” You sniff. You’re tempted to rub the tears from your cheeks but maybe he hasn’t noticed in the evening light. The black-haired man is standing there looking sheepish, a brown paper bag from Pierre’s clutched in his hands.

“Er, hey…” He’s not meeting your eyes. Poor boy probably wants to run. “Sorry, I… I was just leaving Sam’s and I didn’t want to go through town and see everyone, so I thought I’d take the scenic route back home through your farm…”

“Oh.” You mumble, waving him on. “That’s okay. Go ahead.”

He takes a step as if to go on his way, but then hesitates. “Are… Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you plaster a smile on, which you’re sure makes you look ridiculous as the stupid tears are still flowing. “I’m just being silly. Don’t let me keep you.”

He stares at you for a moment, before a sympathetic smile graces his lips. “You’re a terrible liar, you know?”

“I’m not ly- Ow!” You flinch as your stomach cramps terribly and you squeeze your arms around it, hoping in some way it might alleviate the pain.

Sebastian is suddenly at your side – the paper bag from Pierre’s dropped to the ground. He’s kneeling down on the first porch step with a frown on his face. “Whoa, are you hurt? I can get Harvey…” His hand hovers over your arm,

“No, honestly, I’m fine…” You try and wave him off again with one hand, the other arm still wrapped around your stomach.

He stares at you, a raised eyebrow. He seems to be putting the clues together – the wincing, clutching your stomach, the tears… He nods, making up his mind and gets to his feet, picking up the discarded bag from Pierre’s as he does so.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.” He offers you his free hand.

“Thank you, but I’ll be okay. You get on home…”

“Farmer, I know I’m probably not the person you want to see right now, but let me help you out, okay? I can’t go home and just leave crying on your porch.” He waves his offered hand again. You look at Sebastian, hesitantly. He looks genuine, at least, but there’s something a little off about him tonight… Heck, you’ve already made a fool of yourself enough, so what’s one more thing?

This time you accept his hand and he easily pulls you to your feet and leads you up to your door. He opens it – you’d easily adapted to the habit of leaving the front door unlocked since moving to Pelican Valley.

You go to open your mouth, to tell Sebastian thank you, but he can go now. You’re inside, you’ll go to bed and pretend this never happened.

“Sit down.” He orders, pointing at your bed. “You like hot chocolate, right?” You wonder how he knows that, how he knows you have a stash. Had you mentioned it at the saloon before? “I’ll make you a cup.”

“But you don’t know where…”

“I’ll find it. Sit!” He pushes you gently towards the bed and you do sit, keeping a wary eye. To be honest, it is quite easy to find your cups and kettle. Robyn had advertised an extension to you but you don’t even want to think about the price and the materials needed. For now – perhaps even for the rest of your life - you’ve got a cupboard filled with crockery and silverware. The fire’s roaring away, you’re thankful you’d lit it earlier to try and make it cosy ahead of going to bed later on. The cabin always had a slight chill at night. Sebastian retrieves a mug and spoon, scooping the hot chocolate powder into the mug, fills the kettle with water from the jug you keep besides the cupboard, before taking it over to the fire to heat.

“Do you have a hot water bottle?” He asks over his shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Hot water bottle.” He enunciates.

“Y-yeah, I think it’s under my bed. Let me…” Before you can bend down, he drops to his knees and Sebastian is now crawling under the bedframe to retrieve it. You pull your legs up off the floor to the bed, not sure what to say.

He reverses back out, holding the fluffy hot water bottle in the air triumphantly, and gets back to his feet. “Finally, where do you keep the snacks?”

“I don’t have any. Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting to entertain.”

“Not for me,” a chuckle – it sounds a little odd coming from him - “..for you!”

“For me?” He’s acting so weird.

But he’s not listening, already rummaging around the brown bag from Pierre’s. He walks over to the sofa and empties the contents besides you – there’s a couple of packs of chips, cookies and candy. “Ta-da!”

You look at the assembled junk food and back up at the black-haired man, noticing his blood-shot eyes.

“You’re high.”

Sebastian laughs again, rubbing the back of his head. “Guilty. Is that a problem?”

“No, it just… explains a lot.” You wince again as the kettle on the fire whistles. Sebastian grabs the mitt you keep nearby for that exact purpose and places it on his hand, removing the kettle from the fire and placing it down on the hearth. Methodically, he pours some hot water in the hot water bottle, tightening the cap, before pouring some in in the cup he retrieved, stirring the hot chocolate powder until it dissolves. Once he seems happy with his work, he brings the two over to you on the bed.

“Okay, since you worked out my thing, it’s my turn. Time of the month, right?” He flops down next to you on the bed, ripping open a bag of chips. “My sympathies.” It feels surreal as he holds the bag towards you and you take a handful – maybe junk food would make you feel better, and the warmth of the hot water bottle is soothing too now against your sore tummy.

The only sound for a few moments is the rustle of the chip package and the crunching of said chips. You take a sip of hot chocolate, probably a weird combination at that moment in time, but it’s working.

“Sebastian…”

“Mm?” You’ve caught him with his mouth full.

“How are you so good at this?”

“Erm…” He swallows. “Well, I guess cos I have a sister and a mom… and a friend named Abigail.” He replies in a teasing tone. “Maru and Abi usually just get super pissy though. Mom’s the crier.” Sebastian leans forward and grabs the blanket off the end of your bed, throwing it over the both of your laps in a smooth motion. Who knew he could turn into a right chatterbox? “Wanna watch some TV?” He picks up the remote control and turns it on without waiting for a response, flipping through the channels. “Do you have a preference? Nothing deters Abi from horror, Mom and Maru go chick-flick mad…”

You burst into tears again.

“Whoa, okay, no TV! That’s fair too.”

“N-no, it’s n-not that.” You let out a shuddering breath. “Why are you being so nice?”

“Because we’re friends…?”

“No, everyone hates me here.” You know you’re being irrational now, but the floodgates have well and truly opened.

“Come on, you know that’s not exactly true.” His face looks serious now.

“It is. I don’t know what I was thinking – I worked in customer support, why did I think I could farm the land? I’m going to be broke by the end of winter if I lose another batch of crops and this town is so tight-knit that they’re never going to like me being here.”

“I like you being here.”

“No, you’re just saying that because you feel sorry for me.” You go to take another handful of chips, but he snatches the bag out of your reach indignantly.

“I am not.”

“You are.” You clip back.

Sebastian lets out a huff in frustration and he acts before he can even consider the consequences. He puts a hand on the side of your face, turning it slightly and presses a gentle kiss on your lips for a moment or two, immediately causing your tears to cease.

“Would I kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“I…” You don’t have any words.

He swipes his tongue over his lips. “Mm, salty. That’s not how I expected our first kiss to go, I’ll be honest.”

“Our first kiss?” Your face is on fire. It has to be on fire, why else would it feel so hot?

“Yeah, well, I told you I like you, didn’t I?” He grins, before it drops. “Though I’ve just realized that you probably don’t like me like that, I’m high, and now I’ve made this a hundred times wor-…”

You cut him off, caressing his lips with your own for a moment.

“No. I like you too.”

“Well, that’s that settled, then, isn’t it?” He leans back, a smug look on his face before he grabs the packet of candy. “Shall we see what a sweet kiss tastes like next?”

-

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi I'm also running an event for x reader fics to celebrate 200 followers, so please check it out and send in your requests.

[thedaythatwas]

I need to know what goes on inside akechi’s head on the evening of october 24th.

like. look at it from his perspective. he comes to leblanc early. he has his priorities straight: he’s going to play some mind games, really get under joker’s skin.

(bear with me while I get serious about a profoundly unserious conversation)

he’s staking his claim on enemy territory. he’s sitting patiently, waiting for akiren to walk through the door. surely, it will intimidate his rival to know that he’s made himself at home in his living space. look how close he managed to slip without akiren noticing! he even went so far as to strike up a conversation with his odd barista caretaker. akechi would drop some quick political jargon here, reference some continental philosopher’s name there— all in the name of making akiren look totally incompetent.

really, joker should be terrified. he should feel violated, even. akechi would! hence:

look— he’s so self satisfied! yes, he totally won this round!

🚨 BUZZER NOISE! 🚨

see, akechi is playing 4D chess. so is akiren! but they’re using drastically different playbooks. we know this because goro akechi procedes to get hit with the following:

I know you as the player don’t need to select that dialogue option (I could go on about the implications of that, but other posts have already said it better). but you can! and I, for one, do.

not to get too deep on what is obviously a joke post, but I think this offers some insight into those little rants that akechi goes on sometimes. you know what I’m talking about— “oh, you’re so special, so interesting, it’s like we were fated to meet each other!”

yes— they were basically fated to meet each other, but that’s not the point.

as silly as it sounds, the fact that dialogue options like this exist proves the oft-stated fact that akiren is the antithesis to akechi’s thesis.

akechi plans his interactions with akiren down to a tee, and still, akiren manages to throw akechi off his rhythm! every. single. time. nobody else does this.

part of this is because akiren sees his interactions with akechi for what they’re worth. it’s all a gamble, a chess match. akechi appreciates that akiren is an equal player in their game. he respects that. it takes intelligence to see a bluff for what it is, and to call it. flirtatiously, too!

that respect is what makes their relationship so compelling. it holds true whether you read what they have as love, hate, obsession, or, hell, even all of the above! you know it isn’t indifference, because that doesn’t make any sense coming from either of them.

call me crazy (I certainly deserve it) but if akiren responds “honey, I’m home” to akechi, he hears another message loud and clear: I see what you tried to do here, I’m calling you on it, and you don’t scare me. you’ve made your move, and I’m going to undo it with flair, because I’m joker, and you love it.

and when you look at it like that, it makes sense why little things might set off akechi’s thoroughly-stated appreciation of akiren. they aren’t “little” to him at all. I’m sure he doesn’t wax poetic just to fuel akiren’s ego, anyway. that isn’t quite his style.

and hey! even if akiren didn’t mean to communicate all of that (he totally did though), it doesn’t make the sentiment any less real to akechi! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. the guy has issues. let him plot the downfall of his enemies (real and perceived) in peace <3

[kyriethesquishysquid]

The Friendly Ghosty (Ghostface/Female Reader)

Summary: Reader comes home from a long day at work just to be accosted by a man in a Ghostface mask at her door. Things quickly go “downhill” from there.

Word count: ~3k

Rating: Mature

A/N: This is literally just all smut, nothing else. I was inspired by a recent dream I had involving a Ghostface cosplayer. Thus, we get some lovely, dark, masked man sex. I hope y’all enjoy! There is no backstory, but it’s made clear at the end that Ghostface and the reader have some kind of pre-established relationship, and the entire scene is consensual. P.S. This is a non-canon Ghostface, so they can look anything like you wish. His only descriptor is that he is tall.

TW: PLEASE READ NEW TAGS. THEY’RE IMPORTANT FOR POSSIBLE TRIGGERS! 

Consensual Dub-Con roleplay, dom/sub roles, breath play, knife play, fear play, oral (male receiving), fingering, pet names (specifically rabbit/bunny used a lot), dumbification, praise/degradation, some overstimulation, some aftercare, breeding kink mentioned at the end. 

“Home sweet home,” you muttered under your breath, fishing your keys from your purse.

It had been a surprisingly easy night at work, with tips galore and decent customers, and it had only gotten better when you’d stepped out into the cool autumn evening. The full moon had been a kind friend guiding you down the short path from the diner back to your house, but you still couldn’t wait to bid her adieu, get inside, and take a nice hot bath. As the key slid into place, the sound of rushing footsteps suddenly sounded behind you but, before you could turn around, you felt a big hand covering your mouth and the bite of metal at your throat. 

“Ah, ah, stay still. Wouldn’t want to hurt you now, would we?” 

His words were muffled under the heavy pounding of your heart in your ears, but you understood just enough to manage a weak little nod. A sharp sting zipped through your senses and halted your motions immediately, your thoughts finally registering the fact you’d almost slit your throat open on his knife. His mocking laugh brought a warm heat across your cheeks. 

“Oh, silly little bunny, let’s get you inside before you have an accident, hmm?” he urged, releasing your face to guide your frozen hand to the lock. 

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. It was like you were only a passenger in your mind, observing yet not in control. The masked man was the one pulling the strings, instructing you to sit, stay quiet, and be a good “rabbit” as he moved about your home as if he had been here a million times.

Had he? That thought sent chills down your spine and some life back into your veins. Turning your head slowly, you watched him as he danced around the kitchen. The tall intruder was dressed in all black, a fitted black long-sleeved shirt and black pants, all put together with the infamous Ghostface mask over his head. He grabbed something from the fridge before immediately heading back your way. It wasn’t until he plopped down onto the plush loveseat catty-cornered to you that you finally spotted what he had.

A fucking water bottle 

“What-”

“Uh-uh, no talking yet,” he quipped, tossing the bottle onto the cushion beside you, “Drink. I just know you didn’t drink water while you were working.”

Lifting one brow in confusion, you cautiously reached for the bottle, only to earn an annoyed sigh from the man. 

“If I was going to hurt you, don’t you think I’d be more inventive about it than poisoning your water?” he asked blandly, lifting the blade you’d nearly forgotten about into the air symbolically. 

You nodded once in understanding and popped off the cap, dutifully drinking half the bottle in one go. 

“Good, now, get over here.”

For a second, you considered disobeying and demanding he tell you what he wanted until your gaze found the knife again. You weren’t sure how serious he was about using that thing, so, to air on the side of caution, you listened. The moment you were in front of him, he pointed to the floor before him without a word. 

It was demeaning, treating you as if you were a dog, but you complied. The instant your knees touched the carpet, he was quick to undo his belt and pants. 

“Been here for over an hour waiting for you to get home,” he grunted out, “You’re never late.”

Blinking in shock, you gaped up at him and asked, “What? How do you know-”

Fingers snarled in your hair and jerked you forward until your legs pressed into the base of the seat and you were nearly nose to hand with the fist jerking his cock. 

“You really are clueless. You’re lucky it was me who chose you and not some psychopath,” he chuckled. 

Yeah, okay. Like someone who knew your work schedule, put a knife to your neck, and threatened you to get a blowjob wasn’t a psychopath. Despite that, you couldn’t help but watch in mesmerization at how his hand moved, listening intently to the little breaths he let out with each pump. 

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s written clear across your face,” he sighed, “The difference between me and them is that I don’t want to hurt you, not yet. Just listen like a good little bunny, and this will all go over smoothly.” 

That shouldn’t have been hot, shouldn’t make you swoon, and sure as fuck shouldn’t make you want to suck his dick just to hear that praise again, Yet there was no denying the wet spot growing in your panties as you instinctively leaned in closer to him. 

Just as you were about to pull back and shake some sense into yourself, he tugged you in by the hair until his dick was pressed against your closed lips. 

“Come on now, rabbit, I’ve seen the things you do with that filthy mouth,” he sneered coolly, “Don’t get shy on me now.” 

You threw a nasty glare his way before thinking better of it, and within half a second, his hand was around the knife and holding it against your throat. 

“Mmm, see, that’s not what we’re going to do, alright?” 

Swallowing hard, you let your eyes dance from his hand to his mask and back down before you whispered, “O-Okay.” 

Parting your lips invitingly, you carefully leaned in as he drew the blade away and took his head into your mouth. The low groan he let out sent shivers down your spine. Fuck, why did he have to sound so hot? Shouldn’t a psychopathic killer sound and look as horrible at their insides? He cleared his throat and you quickly pushed yourself into motion. One hand balancing on his thigh, you wrapped the other around the base of his cock and began licking up and down the underside. As you traced every vein along his flesh, your mind began to wander to dangerous places where you were a little too into the situation. Were he not threatening your life, this would have almost been welcomed. He tasted good, felt good in your hand and against your tongue; heavy, thick, and filling.

“Enough teasing, let’s go, princess!” 

The instant he was in your mouth, he gave you no leeway. Hands in your hair, he forced you down until your lips met your fist and his head pressed into the back of your throat. You reactively gagged and tried to pull back, only to get held down. 

“Don’t quit on me now,” he huffed, “Move your hand.” 

If your mouth were free, you’d spew the most vile curses his way. Instead, you did as asked and sucked in a quick breath right before he pushed you down again. There was no way you’d be able to take him entirely, but he seemed bound and determined to make it happen, each nudge of your skull pushing him down further until he straight up thrust into your throat with a hellish groan. 

“Theeerrreee you go, rabbit. See, I knew you could do it,” he praised, voice breathless and growly in a way that had your thighs clenching. 

In the next breath, you were forced back down until your nose almost touched his belly. He hardly gave you a second to breathe, simply using you to his pleasure as if you were nothing but a fucktoy. And gods did it ever feel fucking fantastic.

You heard your name muttered thickly between little grunts and groans at one point and it drew your eyes up to him, only to find that horrid mask staring you down. 

“Mmm, good girl, look at me while I fuck your throat.”

A particularly rough thrust sent a painful ache through your muscles but drew an entirely different reaction from below, your pussy throbbing in want while tears dripped down your cheeks. As you slowly fell down the rabbit hole of subspace, you couldn’t help but get into the act, growing increasingly impatient to have him coming for you. You just knew he'd sound heavenly when he did.

“So fucking pretty when you’re crying for me. Just a little longer,” he rumbled, hand knotting tighter in your hair as he shoved you down again, “You can do that for me, can’t you?” 

Through tears and sniffles, you nodded emphatically and symbolically opened your mouth wider, taking him in with ease. The taste of his precum filled your senses and you couldn't help but moan around him. Immediately, he thrust up and shoved onto the nape of your neck until he crushed your nose against his abdomen, his broken moan easily hiding your reflexive gag. You couldn't breathe but it didn't matter when you heard those devastated little whimpers pouring from his lips.

“Fu-uh-ck, that’s it, atta girl, right- right there, fuck fuck fuck.”

The praise did wonders for the carpet burning against your knees and the overpowering ache in your throat. You couldn’t help but wiggle in need, debating taking matters into your own hands until he moaned again. Fuck it, there was no way you were waiting. Spreading your knees further apart, you balanced better against his thigh and quickly shoved your other hand beneath your skirt and panties. The moment your fingers touched your clit, you nearly came, a stifled moan rumbling around his cock as you worked him over faster.

“Ah, shit, are you touching yourself, bunny? Sucking my cock got you that excited?”

A rough gag drowned out your response as he jerked your head up and shoved you down with a moan. The moment you felt the telltale throbbing of his cock and heard his moans pitch, you pulled back just enough to catch the entire load on your tongue and watched him in awe. You couldn’t see his face through the mask, but the way his head tipped back and his chest heaved with shuddering breaths- oh, that was almost just as good- though you hated that you could barely make out his muffled grunts and groans through the barrier.

Swallowing around his cock, you quickly pulled back and licked him completely clean. 

“Sh-Shit, you-”

His words cut off with a harsh gasp when you took him into your mouth again. Your tongue swirled gently around his head before lapping up and down the underside of his cock. Seeing the way his gloved hands clenched and how his body shook in restraint, well, that was one hell of a drug. 

“Enough.”

Before you could react, he fisted a handful of your hair tight and forced you to a stop. 

“Get up here.” 

A slight wince escaped as your knees popped and ached under the sudden change in position, but you let him guide you up into his lap. Before you could even get proper footing, he widened his thighs to spread yours and slipped his hand into your panties. 

“H-Hey, y-”

Any argument you had died on your tongue the moment his fingers started rubbing your clit, the sensation of leather against your flesh startling but more than welcome. You nearly collapsed in on yourself at the sudden rush of pleasure, but he was quick to balance you with a firm hand on the shoulder. 

“No falling now,” he jeered through a laugh. 

“Sh-Shut u-uuuuup,” you stammered back, face flushing as his laughter only grew louder.

“Hmm? What was that? I couldn’t hear you over your moans.” 

Grinding your teeth together, you fought through the waves threatening to overtake you and spit out, “Fuck you!” 

A whine escaped your lips despite your best efforts when he suddenly stopped moving his fingers, having gone completely still and silent. It took everything in you, but you managed to open your eyes just to find that infamous white mask staring back at you, tilted in a cute and oddly threatening way. 

“Wh-Why- Why did you stop?” you breathed out shakily.

“Wanna try that last sentence again?”

“What?”

He huffed a low sigh and withdrew his hand, wet fingers digging sharply into your cheeks and drawing your head up until you were eye-to-mask. You couldn’t help but grimace as he massaged your slick into your skin.

“I know you’re a dumb little bunny, but your ears work fine, don’t they? I said, do you want to try that last sentence again?”

Your mind went into overtime trying to figure out precisely what he meant, but finally, it clicked. Lips parting in disbelief, you gaped at him momentarily before a little scoff escaped. 

“Because I said fuck you?” you asked for clarification. 

“Could I mean anything else?” 

God, that demeaning cocky attitude was gonna be the death of you. How could one human be so fucking… tempting? 

“Uh,” you muttered to yourself, “Uhm, I’m sorry… for saying that?” 

Though you couldn’t see his eyes through the mask, you could practically feel his gaze on you through the dark fabric. It was maddening. When he didn’t reply right away, you began to question if you had really and truly fucked up, but finally, he let out a chuckle.

“Good enough for now. I expect better in the future, understood?” 

Nodding dumbly, you couldn’t help but wilt in relief when he finally released your face, your cheeks blooming with pain from the hold. 

“Now, what are you going to say if I’m generous enough to touch you again?” 

Your thoughts felt as slow as molasses from the subspace fog rolling in, but you whispered, “Thank you?” 

“That’s right. Good girl.”

Face warming deep pink, you turned in an attempt to hide the embarrassing reaction, only to get a soft tap across the cheek. 

“Look at me. Don’t you dare look away,” he demanded.

You swallowed hard but turned back to face him, eyes focusing on the chin of the mask rather than the eyes. Even through a mask, it was hard to imagine making eye contact with him. 

“Fuck!” 

Your shock was quickly silenced with a firm grip around your throat at the same time as his fingers hooked up into your cunt. Any attempt you made to form a sentence was ruined. Instinctively, the hand not currently pressed against his chest wrapped around his wrist and squeezed hard in an attempt to control the situation. 

“What? You think you could actually stop me if I wanted to hurt you? That’s cute,” he snickered.

Before you could even begin to respond, his fingers squeezed uncomfortably tight to the point you couldn’t breathe. Fear flickered to life in your chest as reality set in. At the same time, a sick and twisted sensation of delightful devastation nestled warmly in your core, your cunt clenching around his fingers eagerly. 

“Silly little thing,” Ghostface sighed patronizingly, “I could snap your neck before you even realized. You understand that, don’t you? That I hold your very life in my hands?” 

You stupidly tried to swallow only to grimace at the pain before managing a stilted nod. It was getting harder to think, your emotions at war with your body. Despite the terrifying threat and the growing need for air becoming dangerous, that familiar pressure between your thighs was just as demanding. It wasn’t until darkness began to creep into the edges of your vision that you finally, cautiously, squeezed at his wrist twice in an attempt to convey that you were nearing the point of passing out. 

“Need something?” 

Embarrassment flamed your face red as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lower lip began to tremble, all while the slick sounds of your body’s betrayal filled the air. Out of nowhere, he loosened his grip, and you nearly came then and there. 

“Ohmygod!” 

Coughing and gasping for breath, you fell forward against him until your forehead was resting against his shoulder, your hands frantically clawing at his back as the sudden torrent of endorphins hit full force. 

“Good girl, that’s right, fuck yourself on my fingers.”

It was impossible to refuse his command, your hips already instinctively grinding your clit against his palm in search of that ever-nearing end. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck, pl-please, yes!” 

Your pleas were broken and raw but unmistakable nonetheless. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered the fact that your nails were likely leaving scratches across his back, but that part of your subconscious currently didn’t give a single fuck. The well-practiced motions of his hand were all that mattered now. 

“Come on, then, be a good little bun and come for me.” 

A sob escaped your lips and you instantly muffled your cries in his shoulder, teeth no doubt leaving deep marks in his flesh even through his shirt as everything finally coalesced. It was all so much: His voice, the sounds of your wet sex, how deep his fingers reached, the constant pressure against your sweet spots. You couldn’t even make out his words, but just hearing him talk you through it was enough to break the last barrier of your will and bring forth the tears again. 

Sniffling and whining, you released your hold on his shoulder just to bury your face against his neck, singing brainless prayers of his name and the most unholy of curses.

“Fuck,” he groaned lowly.

His arm hooked around your back and held you tight as his fingers quickened, sending wave after wave of bliss through your veins and drawing out every last drop. It wasn’t until you were shoving against him, trembling and screaming for him to stop, that he finally gave you a reprieve. 

Panting for breath, you went limp against him. 

“Good girl,” he hummed softly, voice suddenly much clearer. 

Lips pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before he drew back and you heard the shuffle of fabric again. Had you any ability to think or move, you might have tried to catch sight of your lover, but you were too brainless to do much other than breathe. The two of you sat in silence for some time to catch your breath, fingers tracing along each other’s bodies, until you were finally able to move and you pulled back with a little smile. 

“Someone looks happy,” he teased smugly.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. 

“I wonder why,” you retorted.

As you attempted to slide back off his lap, he steeled his arms around you.

“Hmm, where do you think you’re going?” he hummed quietly. 

Lifting your brows in confusion, you replied, “To the bathroom… to clean up?” 

His hushed chuckle sent goosebumps down your arms. You attempted to move again only to meet resistance from his hold once more, pulling a frustrated sigh from your lips. 

“What? Why can’t I-”

A little squeak of shock interrupted your words when he jerked you back down into his lap, the threat of his cock pushing up against the thin lacy barrier of your panties making your legs shake. 

“Because I’m not done with you yet. Now, push those panties aside and sit on my cock so I can breed you, bunny.”

[gunilslaugh]

Hello! I really like your work and it’s clear that you put part of your soul into it. Can I ask you to write my idea “how would Seungmin seek the reader’s attention when they are not in a relationship” or with Jooyeon. English is not my native language, I hope you understand everything. Thank you in advance!and I’m sorry that I’m writing for the second time, at first I didn’t understand how to send a request. Happy New Year!

I decide to write for both of them! I hope you like it.

Oh Seungmin & Lee Jooyeon

Summary: How they get your attention when they’re interested in you. (idol au)

WC:592

Warning:none

photo not mine credits to owner.

O.de/Seungmin

You were a long time friend of Jungsu’s. The members only knew a little about you. Mainly being from wherever Jungsu happened to mention you. Today was different though, today you got to meet the members in person when you came to see Jungsu at one of their sound checks. 

“Y/n you here!” Jungsu announced excitedly, quickly hurrying over to meet you. 

Cheesy as it may sound the second Seungmin saw you he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. He watched as you trailed over with Jungsu. “Guys this is y/n. I have mentioned them a few times,” he introduces you. They all greeted you. Seungmin’s eyes were extra sparkly while doing so.

Seungmin took a bit of time before approaching you. First because he wanted to collect his thoughts and snap out of the daze you put him in. Second Gunil caught him with his not so subtle staring at you. 

“Dude, just go talk to them or do you prefer to keep staring at them like a lovesick fool,” Gunil says. He was left with no choice, but to approach you. He slowly made his way over to you. 

“Hi.” He sat next to you on one of the plastic folding chairs.

“Hi.” The small smile you gave him melted his heart. Seungmin initiates small talk with you. Casually repositioning his chair to be angled towards you. His knees accidently knock into yours from time to time. Before you leave he works up the confidence to ask for your number. Feeling over the moon when you agree. He saved your contact name with a heart. He is undeniably smitten and can’t wait to talk to you more.

Jooyeon

Despite being the menace that he is, Jooyeon is actually quite shy. That shyness made him initially pass you off as a silly little crush that would pass. Except it has now been close to three months and he still has a silly little crush on you. He begins to think of ways to approach you. He ends up running into you on a trip to the convenience store and he doesn’t know if he feels blessed or cursed. Don’t get him wrong he is extremely happy to run into you, but he has no clue on what to say.

“Hey, Jooyeon didn’t expect to see you here,” you said. 

“Yeah, just picking up some snacks.” He hopes he didn’t sound as awkward as he did in his head. 

“Me too. My friends and I are having a movie night this weekend,” you tell him. It makes him daydream about having a movie night with you. 

“Sounds fun,” he says. You nodded in response. The two of you went about your snack shopping. Jooyeon asked about what your favorite snacks were. He almost cooed at how cute he thought you looked as you excitedly showed him your favorite snacks. His mind went blank for a moment when you asked him what his favorite snacks were. 

Both of you had picked your snacks and finished paying for them. You exited the convenience store and were about to go your separate ways when Jooyeon stopped you.

“How about we have a movie night of our own sometime?” He looked down at his bag of snacks in fear of your rejection. 

“Like a date?” you questioned. 

“Or as friends! It doesn’t- whatever you want,” he panicked. 

“A date it is. Let’s set it up sometime.” With that you went your separate ways. Jooyeon practically skipping on his way home.

[sister-lucifer]

Genuinely curious why someone who seems to sexualize (fictional) serial killers and (fictional) murderers draws the line at "proship" stuff, which is also very much fictional? Aren't most horror characters actively problematic? Or is it virtue signaling with little knowledge of what "proship" actually is, you're just trying to show that you're not like "other" freaks, even if you're cut from the same cloth. Lumping people who ship weird stuff in Fandom spaces in with literal nazis is such a silly take. It just trivializes the sentiment when you say that you believe real life nazis are on par with people who engage with dark topics in fiction. You're a "proshipper" by the very nature of the fandoms you're in, as horror is the most "problematic" a medium there is.

[tws for discussion of sex abuse, gore and incest under the cut]

pro shipping is the attempt to normalize things like incest and pedophilia within shipping and fandoms. while yes these characters are fictional, and i completely support the existence of dark content as a medium to explore these topics, my issue is with the fact that proshippers want to treat incestuous and pedophilic relationships as normal. there’s no trigger warnings on proship content, no indication or attempt to keep these things away from those it could harm (pro shipping is also super common in fandoms of kids shows, like steven universe and MLP, which is super worrying for obvious reasons). There’s a difference between writing something dark to explore its existence vs writing about a father raping his young daughter as though it’s a completely normal and healthy relationship. that sort of content pushes the idea that children can consent and want sex, and often pushes blame onto victims of assault. with no tws or any sort of attempts to guard this content, and the fact that the way it’s written actively seeks to normalize these actions, it’s incredibly dangerous.

i expanded more on this sort of idea in this post (and there’s a follow up here if that matters idk), which i highly recommend anyone who’s questioning this sort of thing reads and takes a look at the other things linked in said post, because i do think it’s important to have these discussions. there’s a difference between normalizing and exploration. everything i write has a content/warnings section. i don’t want gore porn to be normalized, which should be inherently clear by the fact that all of my dark fiction has a wide array of trigger warnings on it to make sure no one thinks it’s normal or will accidentally stumble upon it. i’m happy to have my niche little community, but i would never want something so shocking to be easily stumbled upon by someone who didn’t want to see it.

there’s a difference between writing something dark or disturbing while actively advertising the fact that it’s not for everyone, vs posting “ship” art of a child being abused and acting like it’s so cute and perfect. someone who didn’t know better could take that to heart.

sex abuse is real and rampant in our society, and it affects and hurts people every day. that’s different than fake serial killers.

also…i fail to see how having both nazis and proship on my dni is equating them? youre allowed to put whatever you want on your dni. i’ve seen people with “creepypasta fans” right next to “proshippers” on their dni, and i don’t say anything, i just move on. it’s not my business why they don’t want those people interacting with them; maybe it’s because they had a bad experience in that fandom, maybe it’s because they don’t want to see gore, maybe it’s because the stories just unsettle them, why do i care? it’s not a personal attack against me, it’s just their prerogative. it’s not my place to argue with them, they can put whatever they want on their dni and it’s not my place to try and change their mind. they’re not equating or lumping in anything, they just don’t want those people interacting with them. and that’s fair enough.

it’s also a bit of a stretch to call horror a “problematic” medium when the very nature of it is meant to be disgusting and scary. if its disgusts and scares you…..good?

you’ll never find me in someone’s inbox trying to change their mind about what they are or are not comfortable with, i just block and move on, like everyone should really. i’ve seen some seriously dogshit takes on this site, and despite how absolutely abhorrent they are, i just block and move on. it’s easier, safer and happier that way.

if you really care this much, you can make your own post about it, or come out of your anonymous box and talk to me for real. i sure as hell don’t care that much, so i won’t guarantee you’ll get a response.

seriously though, if you hate me that much, just block me and move on. in fact, i actively support people blocking me. it reduces conflict, and i know that my content isn’t for everyone, and that’s totally okay.

i don’t want this response to come off as angry or indignant because really these sort of discussions are important, i just can’t say with my whole heart that you sent this ask because you wanted to talk; you sent it because you’re angry at me for what you perceive to be a slight against you or something you believe in. i get it. but believe me, you get a lot more out of life when you remove the things that make you upset instead of trying to argue with them. start caring less and blocking liberally 👍

[mattbegins]

My 911 7x05/7B predictions

- Eddie and Marisol break up (she’s only had one line and one appearance in the last four episodes and I find it kind of ooc that the reasons Eddie didn’t want to be with Ana wouldn’t also apply to Marisol, there’s been such little build up or even scenes with them to suggest otherwise. That might change this season, but we haven’t seen a successful relationship launched between a recurring character and a newly introduced character since Michael and David (I don’t count madney because even though Maddie was new they’re both mains), so I don’t know how they’d do this for Eddie and Marisol without it being rushed and kind of clumsy)

- Buck and Tommy will have a good run but I don’t think they’ll last to the end of the season. Tim Minear said as much himself and described bucktommy as an important but “sort of the entry-level relationship” as Buck begins to understand his sexuality, but because of Tommy’s redemption arc and the clear joy Buck has about their relationship I don’t think they’ll end because of something bad between them. I’d hope it would either be that Tommy has to move due to some sort of career advancement, or someone realizes feelings between Buck and Eddie and Tommy doesn’t want to be a replacement, and not them killing him off. With that in mind, my genuine theory is that buddie would be what ends bucktommy because Minear hasn’t completed the rest of the season yet and has repeatedly expressed concerns about making sure he doesn’t create anything that messes with ratings and views, so if anything he may have been testing the waters with bucktommy to pave the way for buddie if it was received well- which it was. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’ll happen off-screen like with Natalia.

- There’s going to be some drama or angst surrounding Hen and Karen’s baby (they really deserve a break but they never seem to get one when it comes to their kids and I’m nervous, but they’ll get a lot of support from Chim and Maddie especially and I can see the relationship between these sets of parents getting even stronger)

- The silly Jinx/Cursed type episode this season will involve Chimney’s bachelor party (might be There Goes the Groom) as the 118 boys stumble into some wild shenanigans. For anyone who’s seen Psych 3x04 and 6x02 and/or remembers 911 2x15 Ocean’s 9-1-1, THAT is the kind of chaos I’m looking for where maybe they accidentally get involved in some kind of nonsense and wind up getting interrogated by Athena or get drunk/dosed and have to retrace everything that happened that night (bonus points for the trope of something happening between Eddie and Buck during that time because it would be hilarious timing but honestly not a bad way to get the ball rolling). Anyway, this would explain the ruined suits in the bts photos and I honestly see them just showing up to the wedding all messy and disheveled like John Watson in Game of Shadows and Maddie being shocked but not surprised despite having made them promise nothing will go wrong or something.

- Christopher’s current storyline arc is going to get a wholesome resolution closer to the end of the season as he works through his feelings and trauma from his mom’s death, and I think/hope Eddie and Buck will get to share a proud co-parent moment seeing him go off to a school dance or a date and knowing that he’s in a better place than he was at the beginning. The scene with Shannon’s letter was so beautiful but I think this narrative still hasn’t come full circle yet because we haven’t seen it change his dating behavior, he just put the photo back up, and I think the resolution really has to involve all three of them as a family (in whichever sense that ends up being).

- Whatever grand emergency features in the season finale, I don’t think it will involve the traumatic injury of a main character, I think it’ll be a really personal and emotional type of situation rather than something physical. The three episode premier was so intense and ongoing that I have a sense they might follow the pattern of s3 and s5 which each had a major physically endangering episode in the middle (Fallout and Brawl in Cell Block 9-1-1) and then scattered large emergencies near the end with a finale that provided a lot of closure and personal resolutions for character struggles to carry over into s8. This might be the thing with Chris, or possibly more personal growth for Buck, but I think it has to be Eddie, Chris, or Buck because they have the most loose ends right now. The middle emergency has a good chance of being Ravi if they go with him getting the Albert treatment. Regardless, the hype for the show since being taken up by ABC has been huge so I think the finale will still have some sort of massive implication that’ll hook people in for the next season.

- Bonus minor prediction: Buck and Tommy cross paths at an emergency because I think that would be cute

[tubbytarchia]

Hi it’s love anon again I sent a few more of these and came back to yours and realised I wasn’t very specific and there is so many more cool things about you that I think deserve to be pointed out

First your most recent art genuinely such an amazing piece I didn’t realise that was you at first but oh my god. The detail in the fish and art is so impressive. And the colours look so good together and I love the way the paint strokes look. Also your line choice there is so devasting in such a beautiful way. I can’t describe what I love about it but god it’s amazing

My personal favourite art piece is probably Jimmy and Tango with their two kids. I love the way they while the Warden’s colours contrast everyone else it still manages to fit in the scene. And Jimmy and tango their are so cute. I love the festival you’ve put into their designs they are so clearly recognisable as who they’re meant to be. And their expressions show so much love to their kids it’s great. Also the chicken is really cute.

I love your whole Jimmy and Doc thing by the way. Not only is it the sweetest story I love that you have created something out of so few interactions. Clearly you care enough about these people and characters to create your own relationships with them. And create art out of it. That is such an amazing thing

Also someone called you the number 1 Jimmy understander one time and I have to emphasise how true that is. You know that character so well you can even predict how he would act around certain people. It’s clear that your really care about Jimmy and I think that’s so cool.

So ignore the hate anons they suck we’re here and we love you and what you create

(Also the only thing I personally disagree with is I don’t like commenting on if the teasing is funny from an out of character perspective personally cause I think it can be a little uncomfortable but it’s completely fair to express if you think it’s uninteresting or unfunny)

Sorry I took awhile to answer this cause I wasn't sure how to to express my gratitude in full but I don't think I can!! lol, but, awh... Thank you love anon, this means a lot to me and you remembering and calling back to a much older drawing of mine as your favorite really says a lot. If even a silly old drawing like that can stick in people's minds, that makes me really happy

I appreciate you agreeing with the Jimmy statement lol?? That is still such high praise but uwaah there's so many other great if not better Jimmy understanders if even ones that disagree with some of my opinions but still have very valid ones of their own y'know!! But I do care him a lot... my sweet cheese... and it always makes my day when anyone shows like towards the Jimmy&Doc stuff!! I'm so happy if people can see my vision even if it's very niche!!

Thank you again love anon and I appreciate you pointing out a disagreement too!! Thank you for going on this crusade to spread peace and love lol, combating hate with love is the best thing ever

[ele-sme]

Little more of them cause i love them.

this is like a part 2 of https://www.tumblr.com/ele-sme/718880874069999616/adopted-au?source=share it's not obligatory to read but I got inspired by it

I think we can all agree on something, Neytiri and little Spider relationship in the adopted au, i think he would be so much of a boy mom, and she simply could be calm if she doesn't have him at ablest one or two meters. Soo here you guys more of them.

1)the pregnancy

2)after Tuk is born and the adoption

3) the fever

4) how dare you?!

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗰𝘆

“Mom, what is it?” Lo’ak, her six-year-old asked rubbing his palm on the eye, it was in fact late for him, but she wanted to announce the great news when the most adorable and tiny blonde kid in the word was there, and she couldn't wait another day. “You all sit up now” she said ignoring the question. “Darling, seriously what is it? it late for the kids and i need to bring spider home.” Jake asked too this time, he didn't know she wanted to tell all of them together plus when she was pregnant of Lo’ak he was the first who knew and from his “happiness” as he descrive it the entire clan deserved to know it right away. After they were all sit up, with the shorter Childrens on Jake's lap and the others two on his side she begging to speak. “What rhymes with spring? Starts with "B", and will it be here in a few months?” she said all excited only to be meet with eyes who asked if she was serious, “ma Jake come on!” patience wasn't a quirk of hers, and on something so big? he needed to guess quickly. “Banana fruit?” Kiri asked, bringing the attention of her brothers “no, not banana fruit. Ma jake why don't you try?” she asked looking at him who had a confused face. “Starts with B and rhymes with spring...will be here in a few months...mmh...wait” his eyes widen in understanding. “Are you saying what i think you are?” he putted both kids on the floor and gotten up to came closer to her, after her nodding he picked her up and started to kiss all her face. “Can we know or is something only you two can know” Neteyam asked, and his brothers and sister nodded clearly sharing the thought. “You going to have a baby brother or a baby sister!” Jake responded in excitement. It was a long pause but the first who talked was Lo’ak, “only this? could you say it in the morning mom? im going to bed.” and he walked to the bed and immediately felled asleep. Kiri and Neteyam on the other side started to jump and kiss their mother, both happy for the news. The blonde kid was silent, didn't move from where he was putted and was looking down at the floor. “Everything ok Spider?” Neytiri asked using that silly nickname he used, she didn't like that her son was nicknamed after an insect that on her mate planet was hated very much and when she finded out the meaning of the name she refused to mate for two entire month, only accepted to mate again after Jake kneeled down asking for forgiveness and she accepted, in reality she accepted only because the child liked it very much as a nickname and even if in her mind she already picked out a name for when she and Jake would have welcome him they're home, she still called him like that only for seeing his smile at the sound of his “name” coming out of her mouth. this time he didn't smile, didn't even get his head up to face her which alarmed her, “I'm just tired, Mr sully can you bring me home?” he responded, how much was hated by her mate and her that the child still called them Mr and Miss, it was truth that they didn't tell him directly that they consider him as a son but it was obligatory? truth too that they didn't talk about the adoption to one another, but it wasn't clear? “Yes, it's quite late, isn't it?”Jake said after some moments picking up, their son and to get him away from her. After they lefted she putted the children to sleep and waited for her mate to return. “He was a little strange wasn't him?” she asked breaking away from his partner's kiss. “Who?” he asked trying get back to kiss her, but she didn't want to anymore with the child on her mind “Spider”, Jake stopped asking for the kiss and stepped away from her partner to put himself on her side. “Yes, he was a little weird.” He responded back, his hand on her tight fondle it. “Did he said something when you accompanied him to the lab?" she asked putting her head on his shoulder “yes, he said that we will have the baby, but he said it in a sad tone” Neytiri mind on hundreds of thoughts of what could have happened on her child mind, who was happy moments before her announcement. Maybe the baby? she thinked Or he is not feeling well...maybe he is ill?!  her mind spinning. “I'm sure he is okay darling do not worry” her mate said to calm her down, feeling the panic trough the tsaheylu, his calm energy calming her too. “yes, maybe you are right” she responded “great, now come here” he responded pulling her to him and started kiss her again.  eight months after panic wasn't a adapt word to describe Neytiri. Her child wouldn't spent time with her or even talk to her. if this was a punishment sent by Eywa to make her go crazy it was working. Her little Tsawke wouldn't talk to her and see needed to find out why.  “Who wants to go to river?” she asked to the children, who were playing with the toys. “me” “i want mom” “RIVERRRRR” they all accepted without hesitation, and Lo’ak maked his excitement clear more then everyone, everyone happy expect one. “I don't want to go i want to stay here” he muttered, the others much taller blue kids looked at each other and then at they're mother “i can leave you here alone, but if you don't want to go then we won't” she knew exactly what she was doing, she used to have a sibling as well “no no i want to go wait a moment here” Neteyam said and going to his brother to whisper something in his ear, which maked the kid get up and go out before everyone. “Thanks, my tanhì” she said using the equivalent of the word star. When they arrived at the river the blue kids were in the water in seconds, the pink one could go because the water of that part of the river was too deep for him, and Neytiri being “evilly pregnant” as she said couldn't go in the water. She knew that if her old teacher was still alive, she would be proud of her and her ingenuity. She sitted down or at least tried and Spider quickly helped her to get down, as she always said her boy was a gift from Eywa. Spider tried to get away, but she stopped him with her hand “it's dangerous being so close to the water, Tsawke” he sitted next to her “Tsawke means sun, why are you calling me sun?” he looked at her, finally after almost a week he looked at her eyes, his eyes were curious but at the same time had something she didn't like, they looked...scared? “Because you are my sun my light. I can't even stand to think of a day where you and your siblings aren't with me.” she picked the child in her arms and putted him on her breast and him as the little monkey which he was automatically got attached to her. “My dear baby you are seeming strane lately there is something you want to talk about?” she asked playing with his curls blonde hairs, “you will want me even after the baby comes right? You won't throw me away, right? you still want to be my mom, right?”  her eyes widen when she understood those words, she begging to hugs him tighter when she eared his tiny voice cracking to become a sob. “Yes, of Crouse my sun, i will be your mom always no matter what, understood?” now he was crying on her chest, at that stupid mask would let his tears fell on her and would make her wipe away them, “who put these words in your mind my child?” she started to rock him delicately. “Nash” he could only say and Neytiri needed all her strength to not hiss at the name, the foster father of her son, why didn't she alredy killed him was still a mystery. “Do not listen to him Tsawke, he doesn't know what he is talking” the child in her chest was still sobbing and shaking and the baby in her belly was like moving up and down giving her some discomfort. “If you love me, why are you having a baby?” he asked still grabbing on her. How could she responded? The reasons for her and Jake to have another child were not to be explained to a child, she needed to invent something. A kick, Neytiri thanked Eywa in her mind “look they kicking” she picked the child and maked a hand of his placed in her belly to feel the baby. “They are kicking!” he said and Neytiri could hide the smile “why are they kicking you? they are evil!” smile faded. “They are not, they just want to...play with you...Yes, they know that you are here and they want to play with you but can't because they are in my belly, so they're kicking to tell you to be prepared for playing when they will come out of the belly and be strong to play with you” she telled him and saved herself, she felt like a genius. “You are evil then! let them out!” if only the child could look at her face, he would know how much she was not expecting those words. “I'm kidding mom! I know they need some other time, right?” he said laughing and asked to be placed to her breast again, Neytiri could not stop a chuckle. “I'm big don't you remember? I'm almost ten" he said, and she could feel his smile. “Ten? you need to be nine before,” she chuckles “and you are so tiny, you can't be that old. You are a baby, my baby” heck yeah, she was so good with words that day. “Mom, do you love me even if im not blue and tall?” he asked, and she who had begun to cradle him started to hum an old lullaby. “I loved you yesterday, I love you today and I will love you tomorrow. because Tsawke you were born with this skin and with this appearance and I will always love you even if one day you would become a Thanator, I would personally bring you food. Even if one day you become blue i will rock you and sing all the same, i don't care how you are done on the outside, all i care about is you, my baby." she said, words not exactly correct in the English grammar, her broke English didn't help either but she knew that the words would have impacted more in English. She re-started to hum and cradle him. “Tsawke” he said tasting the words, “i like Tsawke” he said in a sleepy tone then he felled asleep in her arms, meanwhile she was sing and watching his sibling play in the water.  “tsurokx, eveng sevin akum sa’nu rol ngaru 'ango 'ango fìtseng asim nga li terkup 'em tun txeptsyìp 'eveng hahaw vaykrr rewon Ma Eywa, Ma Eywa Ma Eywa, Ma Eywatsakrrvay nga hawtsyìp swaynivi hu fil nulnew, unil po pey nga po uvan si txewluke. Ma Eywa, MA Eywa Ma Eywa, Ma Eywa. (Whispered prayer) si po hahaw nìltsan.”

almost two thousand words, dios mio. i tooked me A DAY to write all this down i don't even know if people will like it. My first idea was to put the others' ideas here Together, but since i don't know how this will end i will just put this for now then if i want and this would have some like i will put the others. I'm sorry for any grammar mistake. If you read until now thank you very much 💙

now I'm going to read @mochalottie fanfic because when i do i feel better bye.

[desceros]

ESSAY TIME

Disclaimer: I am ignoring the original context of the song to reshape these lyrics for this AU lmao sorry 

Disclaimer again: I may have missed posts or just have incorrect views on the boys and their relationships with lamb-chan and with each other! If I get anything wrong I apologize! I am just a silly goose! 

Lyrics will be in italics, my thoughts in bold, I did not include the repeats of the chorus and such :)

-

One, two, three, one, two, three

One, two, three, one, two, three

One, two, three

[Not deep at all, but I like this opening because there are three of you. This is the basis of the entire AU, that both of them have to share you, they have to put up with each other if they want you. It’s not “just the two of us,” it is inherently three, and this repetition here of the one, two, three is reminiscent of that, and I love it.]

You know that he trusts you and I know that he loves you

But somehow you convinced me again

[These lyrics are SO Leo to me. Like, Leo knows you have this intense relationship with Donnie, that you and Donnie are so intertwined, Donnie trusts and cares for you so much, and Leo doesn’t know if you really see that Donnie is in love with you, but Leo does. Leo sees it. And he’s very possessive and he’s such a little shit about his time with you, but I can’t help feeling that a part of him would wonder why you would want him (Leo) when you have this other person (Donnie) who is so clearly and wholly devoted to you, but you keep coming back, you keep seeking Leo out, and you have somehow convinced him that… maybe he can have love and devotion and softness and openness, too.]

My foundation rumbles and all my morals crumble

[This lyric fits both boys. For Leo, he has built a certain way of living, a certain persona, a certain set of “morals” as a person. For Donnie, he has created this idea in his mind of how life is going to be. And now, they’re both suddenly… unsure about those respective things. Like, here you come, and now everything that was once so clear and true and obvious is just. Not.]

My father's warnings run through my head (one, two, three)

[I haven’t seen any posts about the boys’ interactions with Splinter so I’m not going to really say much except I’m sure that Splinter would have something to say about the whole situation (and again we’ve got the repetition of one two three that calls back to the nature of the relationship)]

Your heart's a vine that I've bled trying to climb

Yeah, you're making a ruin of me

[Love can be painful, and it can change you. Leo is being forced to soften and open up, while Donnie is being allowed to sink his teeth in. That’s scary and uncomfortable, and the things that you bring out of them go against how they have always seen themselves - thus you are “ruining” what they thought they were by showing them that’s not exactly true.]

Try to survive, keep my spirit alive

But like a knife in the woods

Yeah, you hunt down the good in me

[For Leo, lamb-chan is finding (hunting down) the good in him that he kept suppressed/didn’t know was there. For Donnie, the “good” in him is being destroyed (almost like it is being hunted and killed) because of him being allowed to give in to those thoughts and urges that he always deemed so dangerous/wrong. And they’re resistant to change (try to survive, keep my spirit alive) but there is nothing they can do about it in the end, because you and the change you bring are inevitable]

One temptation sparked this

Now I can feel the darkness

It's my own fault but you had this planned

[These lyrics evoke more of the same for Donnie, I think. The “temptation” is you, of being with you in that way, of letting himself feel and act a certain way with you. Letting that “darkness” (possession, jealousy, lust, etc.) start to creep in and take hold. Feeling like it’s his fault for letting this happen, but also knowing that you have a hand in this, too, and you’re making decisions that allow this from him and even encourage it.]

All of me, you take now, like criminals and shakedowns

[For Leo, this lyric fits him in sort of in a literal sense (you’re taking all of me, including my shady shit) but this lyric also sort of fits in a different, figurative sense (you take all of me as if you were shaking me down, as if you were stealing me away and I cannot stop it).]

Yeah, you make me forget who I am (one, two, three)

[For Leo, you make him forget who he feels like he is supposed to be (a bad guy), you allow him to forget about this hard persona that he’s crafted, you let him be someone softer and more open and more vulnerable than he ever dared to let himself be. For Donnie, you being with Leo starts to change him (or, more accurately, reveal him as who he really is rather than who he’s forced himself to be), and then when Donnie is allowed to be with you in a different way than he ever thought he would be, it’s, again, this feeling of forgetting who he is/letting that darkness take hold/restructuring how he views your relationship with him. And once again, you’ve got the repetition of one, two, three calling back to the nature of the relationship.]

All of your good is mine

All of your good is mine

All of your good is mine

All of your good is mine

[This is the only part of the song that is sung in a female voice rather than a male one, so to me this is lamb-chan saying to the boys “yes, you are good, and you are mine, and the things inside of you that I am revealing are also good and mine.]

If my brain wasn’t soup, this would be better. I’m sorry jfkdlsa;jfdskl;

duuuuuuude this was fuckin INSANE a+ in red pen at the top of your essay. consider having your brain be soup more often

[avese23]

Can’t deal with people who act all personally aggrieved that they can’t personalize the entire internet to their personal happy place. Especially people who then go out looking for things to get mad at

(This isn’t about people venting about trolls or harassment. It sucks. I’m sorry. Fuck bullies and bigots. This also isn’t about flash warnings, and anything that keeps people with epilepsy safe)

But like, it’s not other people’s job to read your mind and guess what hyperspecific trigger you have then manually tag everything for one person. I’ve seen people ask creators to tag images with the character their blog is about. Just block the blog. That’s not a safe blog for you.

It’s not other people’s job to explain that fucked up shit in fiction is not real. You’re not a child and we’re not your parents here to hold your hand and reassure you that the actor is only playing dead.

I think a good example of effective content warnings is Hazbin. They’re not gonna put one up every individual episode to tell you a show full of swearing and gore is gonna have swearing and gore. But episode 4 is more graphic than any other episode so it’s given a separate warning. Because someone signing up for the rest of the episodes might genuinely be taken aback by that one.

Or Hashtag Ruthless Productions always putting heavy topics in their politics section. Asking for a warning every episode would be silly when you can just skip the politics section. You know it’s gonna be venting and politics. So don’t be surprised when it’s about politics. But if they talk about dark topics that aren’t typically brought up in that fandom they do give warning. For instance most people wouldn’t expect a discussion about eating disorders when the hosts talk about the cult in Wayward Son. Or a spoiler for Star Trek in a podcast about Buffy. So *then* it makes sense.

It’s social kindness and being stewardess to recognize when you as a creator are putting out something unexpectedly and objectively shocking to people who didn’t consent to it. It’s not other people’s job however, to use common sense for you. Or to read your mind. Don’t click on a video about a movie and get mad at spoilers for that mobile. Don’t read the Bible and get mad about major character death (Christian’s don’t come after me with a ‘well actually’ I haven’t read it 😭)

Speaking of Christianity if you’re someone who gets mad at Christian’s being upset by goths wearing crosses (which is silly) but then get upset by what people are writing about your blorbos on ao3 you might wanna do some soul searching.

So no I don’t care about your DNI list. No I don’t care that you only want virgos to reblog your post about Home Depot. No I don’t care that you can’t tell the difference between an anime character and a person, between real life and a plot point, between internet drama and an actual crime. I find that dude from Friends ugly af to that point I cringe but I’m not gonna go harass fandom accounts or look up every bad thing the characters done and accuse blogs of being bad people. I don’t like a lot of ATLA ships and think both Zutara and Kataang are morally gross af but I’m not gonna say the writers or the fans are sympathizing with pedophilia or abuse. Cuz that’s ridiculous.

When I publish works I’m gonna make it clear what kind of story it is. And then I’m gonna step back and tell the fucking story. I’m not gonna pop up every other chapter to warn people that a gay character calls another gay character a fag affectionately. Or a character in a toxic relationship *shocker* is having a bad time. I’m not gonna tell people that the horror work has gore and a jump scare. It’s horror.

Cuz I’m not gonna infantilize my audience and trust that they can set their own boundaries when it comes to stories they want to consume. No one is forcing them.

Media isn’t sex you don’t have to check in with every escalation. Entertainment isn’t your textbook, Phillip Schuyler is allowed to have no sons. A character isn’t your child they’re allowed to wear what they want and go on dangerous ass quests.

It’s frustrating being told to choose between assholes who project their own privilege onto others and assholes who project their own trauma onto others. Nuance exists.

Now block me dear lord, you’re doing the inventor of the block button a disservice when you get off on being pissed off

[prodigal-explorer]

anaroceit week - day four - it's alright

@anaroceitweek

prompt: rom-com/everyone is trans

relationship: platonic (could be interpreted as romantic/pining) anaroceit

word count: 1.7k

(cw -> transphobic parents, self-hatred, gender dysphoria)

---

“I thought we told you to stop using that name with your teachers.” 

Janus froze as he watched his parents scroll through his computer, unable to move as he did nothing but stare. He should have known not to leave his screen open while getting a glass of water. By now, he should have learned that his parents didn’t consider Janus deserving of any sort of privacy. 

“I did stop,” Janus lied through his teeth. “Mr. Diaz just forgot, that’s all. He’s really forgetful sometimes.” 

“What made you even come up with such a dumb name anyway?” Janus’ father asked, poison in his voice. “Janus. The name we gave you is much more beautiful.” 

“Maybe I don’t want beautiful,” Janus muttered. “Maybe I just want something that’s me.” 

“Your melodramatics are getting old,” Janus’ mother said. “You’re seventeen years old. You need to start acting like an adult. I don’t care what your silly little friends are doing, ruining their bodies and their reputations with all this stupid, disgusting, “trans” stuff. But you aren’t getting pulled down with them. They’re never coming over here again.” 

Janus flinched, but upon hearing his mother's words, an idea popped into his head, and he looked over at his window. No, he tried to tell himself. Too risky.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Can I please finish my homework? It’s due at midnight tonight.” 

“If this happens again, your laptop is being taken,” Janus’ father warned. “You can do your schoolwork the old fashioned way. That’s how your mother and I did it, and we turned out just fine.” 

With that, they left, and Janus was finally able to breathe again. He went and deleted the email from Mr. Diaz after reading its contents, and then deleted everything else in which he was called by his true name. As Janus watched his deadname flash across the screen more times than he could count, he started to feel a deep, unstoppable self-hatred collect in his stomach. 

This wasn’t fair. 

He tried so hard to be who his parents wanted while also being who he truly was. But the two things were impossible to balance, and Janus was starting to wonder if he would have to just pick one. There was no way to make everybody, including himself, happy, and maybe it was time to just stop trying. It was getting too hard to hold everything together; to keep every secret and hide every bit of contraband. 

Before Janus could stop himself, he found himself tearing his pillowcase off his pillow, shoving a toothbrush, his meds, and his most masculine set of pajamas in. Today, after all, was definitely a masculine day, much to his parents’ disappointment. Sure, Janus didn’t mind presenting as feminine sometimes, but honestly, he felt much more at home when he was able to shift and transition how he presented depending on what made him feel the most euphoric on any given day. And the least dysphoric. That part was important too. 

The last thing Janus grabbed was hidden at the bottom of his closet, underneath his bin where he kept his socks: his pronoun pins. The ones he grabbed to wear said “He/Him”, but he took the other two just in case he felt the need to change it out at some point. 

It wasn’t like Janus to go to anybody’s house without texting first, but this was an emergency. After a very risky adventure of climbing out the window and jumping into the nearest bush, Janus was off to the Mendozas. He was just desperate to clear his head and get one night away from his control freak parents. He needed to be somewhere where he could just be himself, without being scared to death of being discovered. 

And the Mendoza house was the best place Janus could think of to do just that. 

Carla had told Janus that he was free to come over whenever he wanted. God, he hoped that she wasn’t just being polite. Carefully, and starting to regret such an impulsive decision, Janus knocked on the door with a timid reluctance. 

It wasn’t Carla or Remus who opened the door. Of course it had to be Roman’s bright, shiny eyes that looked into his and his goofy smile that appeared when he realized that it was Janus he was looking at. 

“Janus!” Roman cried out, “Oh my gosh, are you here for a sleepover?? No way, I was just thinking about inviting you and Virgil over! I would invite Logan too, but tonight’s star-gazing night, and I wouldn’t wanna distract them from that.” 

“True,” Janus hummed nervously, shifting weight between his right and left, causing him to sway awkwardly. “So…does that mean it’s okay for me to come over for the night?” 

“Of course!” Roman said, “Come in, come in! You can put on a movie in the living room if you want.” 

A smile grew on Janus’ face. He loved movies, especially when he was watching them with Roman and Virgil.

“I might just have to take you up on that,” Janus teased softly, ruffling Roman’s hair before going to sit down on the familiar couch. 

Carla was sitting on the recliner, typing on her laptop. She smiled kindly at Janus, and the action made Janus feel a hundred times calmer, somehow. Carla always seemed to have that effect on people, and it was mystifying how she did it. But at the same time, it made perfect sense. Janus figured that anybody who stepped up to the plate of being Roman and Remus’ foster mother had to have some tricks up their sleeve when it came to comforting. Though Roman came across as fearless, Janus was one of the only people who Roman allowed to see in his most vulnerable, fear-stricken moments of honesty, and he was certain that Carla had seen even more than Janus had. 

Curling up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, Janus picked up the remote and surfed through all the different streaming surfaces. Rom-coms were a guilty pleasure of Janus, and a very un-guilty pleasure of Roman’s, so Janus figured that it was a safe genre choice. When he finally settled on Candy Jar, Roman came over to sit next to him, but he gave Janus a decent amount of space, clearly unsure of how close Janus was comfortable with him being. 

“Virgil said he can stay the night too!” Roman disclosed with a grin, rocking back and forth on the couch while swinging his legs. “It’ll be the best sleepover ever.” 

“Yeah,” Janus said, starting to relax just a little more. “The best.” 

He pressed start on the movie, but didn’t let it play, wanting to wait until Virgil came around. His stomach was still tumbling, thinking about the inevitable flurry of phone calls and text messages he would get from his parents when they found out that he was gone. Luckily, Janus wasn’t ever dumb enough to tell them Roman’s address. If they tried looking for him, they wouldn’t even know where to start. But even so, the thought of seeing their faces, hearing his deadname get spat at him like venom, made Janus want to curl up into the blanket Roman had passed to him and hide inside forever. 

An arm looped around Janus’ shoulders, squeezing him ever so gently, and reminding him that he wasn’t there. Roman didn’t have to ask. He was the first to admit that he wasn’t the smartest, but in a way, he was. He got people in a way that Janus could never understand. It wasn’t exactly like he could read their minds, but he always seemed to have a trick up his sleeve to make everyone in the room happy. Maybe it was just a part of who he was, or maybe it was something he carefully practiced. Either way, Janus closed his eyes, trying to bask in Roman’s warm existence. 

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Janus jumped, and Roman leapt to his feet to get it. Virgil bumbled his way into the living room, his body hunched over and his eyes vacant and tired. Janus sat upright immediately, leaning forward on the couch to try and get a better look. 

“Virgil, are you okay?” he asked. “You look horrible!” 

“It’s- fine…” Virgil mumbled, sitting down beside Janus, still holding his stomach. His ears were tinged red. “It’s nothing. Reall- ow. Oww, fuck-...” 

“Did you get stabbed??” 

“No!” Virgil cried out, finally tearing his hands away from his stomach. Perfectly devoid of injury. “I’m just on.” 

Janus’ eyes widened in understanding, and then softened in pity. He knew how hard this time was for Virgil, and really, for all three of them, it was challenging. Janus could say he was lucky because he sometimes felt feminine during these days, while Roman and Virgil had no source of euphoria anywhere, knowing that their bodies were betraying them, and doing something that didn’t match who they truly were. It was hard to even think about, much less endure and talk about. 

“I’ll get you a heating pad and some chocolate,” Roman said. “Do you want the racecar one?” 

Virgil groaned before nodding. “Yes please,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. 

The racecar heating pad at this point was a Mendoza family tradition. Roman used it for his cramps, and Virgil and Janus eventually started using it for theirs too. Silly as it was, it made the whole ordeal feel just a little less dysphoric and a lot more lighthearted. Janus pressed play on the movie as soon as Roman came back with the warm heating pad and a big bowl of fun-sized chocolates. 

“Ugh, I hate rom-coms,” Virgil joked, wrinkling his nose in mock disgust. “They all have the exact same plot.” 

“No, this one’s different, I swear!” Janus reassured. “It’s funny. You’ll like it.” 

“Both of you be quiet, I wanna hear the movie!” Roman cried out with a laugh, resting his head on Janus’ shoulder. 

Maybe things sucked right now, and Janus didn’t even want to think about what it would be like at home tomorrow after sneaking out. But at least in this moment, it was alright. Roman’s arm went around Janus once again, and the heat from Virgil’s heating pad warmed Janus’ leg, and Janus had forgotten how good Milky Ways were since his parents never allowed candy in the house. 

And Virgil’s cramps were killing him, and it was obvious that Roman was worried sick. 

Things weren’t perfect. But they were alright. And that was good enough for Janus.

[dearweirdme]

u see, the most believable dating rumor for a bts member were the jm and d*aeun rumors. the evidence was so low key and quiet. but the coincidences did add up and it looked like she was staying at his place for a while which is why jm never showed his place until way later but never mind, they broke up early 2023 or even before. there’s a huge chance FACE is about her and by the way she decided to deny the “rumors” herself saying ppl are over analyzing her life when half the fandom didn’t even keep up with her or that rumor now that jm is enlisting does paint her like jm described on his album…which yikes, it seems it wasn’t a good break up at all. but this isn’t about jm.

it’s about how this is precisely how i’d expect a bts dating rumor to go. super low key. cuz the members of bts aren’t precisely known for making things very public w their life. they aren’t even that active on social media like let’s say, some idols are. the t*ennie rumors were so overexposed and controlled in ways that felt extremely odd. it wasn’t fans putting evidence together, it was a straight up “leaked” phone, “accidental follow”, a car photo from a random person and a whole paris parade with their managers on toe who actively participated in the creation of the “relationship”. no one but ta*nnies and some delusional fans believe this was a genuine and wasn’t a planned to a t.

bts members (especially tae or jk) are very desirable men in the industry. it’s delusional to think they haven’t been involved in relationships. but they’ve been very known for how private they are. i am glad we can rest abt ta*nnie but it started as pr and ended as pr. like, sorry for anyone that thought it was genuine.

and i confess that i was one that 100% believed the relationship was real and there was not intention behind it, but the paris incident just made it very clear to me. they wanted to be seen. they wanted those headlines. this was deliberate. it’s silly to pretend otherwise.

Hi anon!

I have no clue whether Jm and her were actually dating. I have seen some things that made me 👀, but I have not given it the same scrutiny I gave to Taennie.. so I feel I have little to say about this.

I think all members of BTS keep their relationships very private. It’s been more then ten years with them, they’re all desirable men, I expect all of them have had relationships that we did not caught onto.. probably even serious ones. I think safety is a big concern for them, and I can imagine members not wanting their partners to be harassed by fandom.. which sadly enough is to be expected.

[simmetrycal]

that’s what i like ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis

a glimpse into chantelle and oaklynns relationship, accompanied by ash who’s got nothing better to do than to third wheel.

word count: 5.7k wow

a/n: i just be writing! (not proofread) ((asher solace of solace enterprises is my very best friend))

chantelle tapped her foot against the glossy marble tiles in front of the cafe “Little Dove”. for a coffee shop that is owned by and literally on the second floor of the company, the service still isn’t quick enough. and the coffee itself is mediocre at best. there was a line of about seven people in front of chantelle, all waiting to pick up their drinks.

chantelle knew all of the employees in front of her. some worked in the call center, some in finance, some in marketing. even a fellow secretarian. she looked around, more of her colleagues at the tiny tables with their laptops and cups.

she noticed hans working silently to himself before agnes comes up to him. they spew insults at each other, aiming to offend and hurt.

the scoop on agnes and hans is always fresh on everyone’s ears. their drama never ceases— the rivalry still and perhaps always will be a flame that never goes out. it isn’t a romantic flame at all, don’t get it twisted, they fight because they’re after the same person.

rahim abboud. he’s from syria and he’s in tech support. he’s probably the funniest guy chantelle’s known at the company (don’t tell ash.) everytime she has trouble with hers or ash’s computer, he’s there. he does a silly accent to mock stereotypical tech support scammers, who tend to also be brown men.

none of which look like him of course— rahim had a smile that makes crowds literally buckle at the knees. his chiseled jaw and perfect skin and hair could also be that of a model. he almost looked a little too handsome in chantelle and ash’s opinion. though, he did own quite a nice mercedes.

hans o’neil is absolutely nuts for him. he’s not allowed to have water on his desk anymore on account of how many times he’s “spilled it” on his computer just so he could call rahim to him. agnes does the same shit only with the marketing teams phones and answering machines.

point is; they both fight over him like he’s a piece of meat and they’re starving hyenas. the two are always at each others throats.

like right now.

“run out of dry shampoo, grease trap?” hans snides at the auburn haired woman who was across his little cafe table. chantelle pursed her lips closed as she tried not to laugh, moving up in the pick up line.

“oh yeah you’re one to talk, you probably used it all on your dry ass white hair.”

agnes’ comebacks weren’t super great but she spits them with such venom that it’s enough to be hurtful.

everyone used to think hans has albinism but it turns out he’s just very, shockingly platinum. he reminds chantelle of those beautiful white hares with the red eyes. anyhow, agnes’ comment flew right past hans as he pretended she didn’t exist anymore. the classic ‘out of sight, out of mind’.

she interpreted that as her winning, so she sashayed away confidently with a hair flip over her shoulder and a “hmph!”

someone cleared their throat in front of chantelle, surprising her. she was at the wooden counter, finally.

“good morning, what can i get you?” a blue haired individual with a visor and apron asked.

“morning, pick up order for chantelle?”

the barista’s eyes widened. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! you’re chairman solaces’ secretary! let me get that for you right away!” they scrambled around, looking for the order for their utmost superior- hoping this wouldn’t get them fired.

chantelle politely urged them it was no rush, even though the more she thought about it, she realized she’d been in this long line for about thirty minutes now. the barista came back with a paper bag and a drink holder.

chantelle tipped and took the bag that had her boss’s bagel and the drink holder, making her way back up the elevator, away from the pity little dove establishment this company owns.

right as she got in and the doors were about to close, she saw hans running up to her with his closed laptop and to-go cup, his blue-strapped lanyard dancing with his jogs.

she stuck a foot out to stop the door sensors to let him in.

“phew! thank you.” he says breathlessly to chantelle before using his knuckle to press the floor number he was on his way to. floor 29, finance.

“good morning, hans.” she replies gracefully. chantelle and hans have gotten to be better acquaintances now that ash has been barking up raymond’s tree about the whole mystery girl situation. ash and her have frequented the finance floor more these past few weeks than ever.

“can you believe that trifling skank?” he runs a hand through his perfectly neat and short powder white hair.

“pardon?”

“agnes thinks she’s hot shit. but really she’s just a dirty bitch.” hans rolls his eyes and sips his warm drink.

“mhm, tell me about it.”

“oh! i’ll tell you about it!”

chantelle chuckled, she was merely playing along but she knows this shorter boy is about to open a can of drama in this elevator. who was chantelle to be opposed to hearing it? so she avidly tuned in.

-

at her big, beautiful mahogany desk, chantelle ate her breakfast burrito and checked her emails, waiting for ash to return from his meetings.

many people assume ash goofs off all day, and while that is partly true, he does actually maintain his duties of a chairman. he keeps up with all his responsibilities and he attends all the mandatory meetings.

she knows he’s upstairs in the board’s conference room playing one sided footsies under the table with the unsuspecting ceo (who is always being replaced). he calls all the chair members “The Bored” instead of the board. it makes chantelle laugh.

she took another bite of her burrito whilst looking at her itinerary for the day. her heart warmed when she saw a particular reminder.

today is her and oaklynn’s four year anniversary!

this morning she stopped by jerichos place because the two had a family night there yesterday. it was a bit of a drive but she didn’t mind. she delivered yellow tulips to a groggy jericho as apparently the princess was still getting her beauty sleep. chantelle couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she got in her car and came to work.

tomorrow was a national holiday, so no work and her and oaklynn were going to make the absolute most out of it. they had reservations to go to a lavish new italian restaurant “Casa Bellissima” which took months to get a spot.

she texted ash the other day saying thank you. it was him after all who pulled some strings for them to get a reservation for tonight.

then after dinner, they were going to the movies to catch challengers again. oaklynn was extremely excited but chantelle, after seeing it once, was simply only going for the sake of her happy girlfriend.

and finally, at chantelle’s apartment tonight, they both know exactly what sort of late night activity they’d do. eager to go for however long they want and sleep in the next morning.

chantelle snapped out of her rose colored daydreaming when she heard the familiar ding of the elevator.

“good morning, sir.” she stood up and greeted, watching him make his way to the giant doors to her right- his office. he didn’t notice her at first and changed his resting face to something high energy.

“oh my gosh! i had no idea you were here yet!” he said excitedly, knowing it’s her big day. but like a dog, he spotted treats, “is that for me?”

ash hurries over to her desk to grab his bagel and frappe, setting down the heavy binder that was in his hands. it was surely filled with new tasks wayne gave him at the meeting.

sometimes chantelle didn’t speak until spoken to, and ash knew this. a trait about her he was desperately trying to bend, even after all these years. he does this by asking her as many questions as he can.

“how do you feel?”

“good,” she says simply. “really good.”

his face warms with a genuine yet goofy smile. “yeah? did you see oaklynn this morning?”

“well, i tried to go see her but she wasn’t home. then i remembered it was family night so i went to her cousins house and she was still sleeping. i delivered some flowers.” she blushed. hard.

“awwwe!! that is too cute!” ash gushed, leaning over to mess up her hair. something she hated.

her blonde bob was back, per ash’s request. he loves choosing her hair and as a white man, he feels like he’s apart of something bigger.

chantelle always lets him and she’d never tell him it’s not doing what he thinks it is. at least, not again— she told him once.

“the black community is not going to give you a medal for knowing these hairstyles.” she blurted once when ash said something about her getting goddess faux locs for her next hair appointment.

he was sad and didn’t come out of his office all day out of embarrassment. chantelle ended up getting her hair done on company hours to come back and surprise him at the end of the day with the exact style he was talking about. it occurred to her then that ash was actually fashion saint and knew what he was doing. she never doubted his advice ever again.

he was overjoyed and gave her a big hug. he even took pictures of her because of how lovely he thought she looked. later they went on her instagram.

chantelle smoothed out her shiny bob that ash just ruffled, laying her hands down over it repeatedly.

ash giggled and made his way to his big office with a cityscape view. chantelle followed in suit with a clipboard of his printed schedule.

she noticed he had a meeting today in 45 minutes with finance’s director. wondering if it was actually to see reports or to have another chitchat with raymond.

“oh! guess who i ran into today,” she starts.

ash sits in his spinny chair and turns to look at her with surprise. “who?” he was probably expecting something crazier than she was about to say, palming a fidget toy.

“hans.” she explains, handing him a tiny paper cup of water and his adderal pill.

he downed it in a second and tossed the cup into a little trash receptacle. “oh. oh…! did he have anything to say about agnes?” ash is hilariously obsessed with the whole hans-agnes-rahim love triangle. it’s been going on for a while too.

“did he! oh my lord,” chantelle chuckles and takes a seat on the opposing couch to tell her boss everything hans spilled in the elevator earlier.

all about the weekend lake party that marketing threw to celebrate their new manager. the funniest part to chantelle was the fact that the team fully didn’t invite the manager.

she laughed hard when hans explained it. apparently the guy is old and grumpy and wouldn’t approve of a party. but the team threw one anyway for morale.

anyhow, agnes invited rahim and in turn rahim brought along hans. it was a shit show, hans said. but the lake was absolutely stunning. he recommended it to chantelle.

(i’ll write the lake shit show separately)

˚ · .

“what time is your reservation again?” ash said as he watched chantelle clock out. he clocked out himself twenty minutes ago but he likes to walk her to her car when she parks outside down the street. the sun will set soon and he doesn’t like women walking alone in the city.

why she doesn’t just park in the underground garage baffles him.

“uh, at like 9:30.” she looks at her watch. it was four hours til.

“i was thinking..” he says, hesitating because he doesn’t want her to freak out. “hear me out.”

“..okay?”

“can you and possum come with me to visit the lake?” he refers to oaklynn as “possum” because he thinks she looks exactly like one.

she scoffed and clicked auto start when they got close enough to her camry. “why?”

ash tsked. explaining how sad and lonely and bored he is, and that the idea of going to the lake told by hans retold by chantelle sounded intriguing.

it’s true. lately he really has been sad and lonely and bored.

especially lonely.

caroline, a friend of a friend invited to one of ash’s parties, got tangled up in bed with him. ash, abandoning his celibacy, fell for her hard after mere days of them getting to know each other.

she wasn’t into relationships but ash didn’t get the message right away. not until she had to spell it out for him. needless to say he ended things, despite being completely head over heels over her. he can’t allow himself to fall more in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way.

he’s called many of his girlfriends and boyfriends “the one”. caroline was no different. he heals and copes in his own way and soon enough, the ash we all know and love will bounce back.

chantelle knows all about ash’s recent heartbreak. he won’t shut up about it, at least not for the next week or so. and he’s been filling up his schedule 24/7 so he doesn’t have any time to linger on emotions. which, granted, is unhealthy to do.

chantelle thought about it for a moment as she got in her car and rolled down the window to look at him.

“fine. but only for an hour. and pick us up.”

ash moved aside her pointed, manicured finger in his face with a wave and laugh. “you have my word.”

˚ · .

the lake was huge and beautiful and vast, just like hans made it out to be. much more vast than any of them thought.

the half hour drive there was pleasant too, ash played music he knew is favorite lesbians would love. he brought chairs and firewood and swim trunks. hoping he could speedrun all his fun in the short hour deadline chantelle gave him.

he parked and the girls got out, taking a look around. it was getting pretty dark already and with darkness came the cold.

surely, the lake had cooled down to a temperature that none of them would like, but it didn’t stop ash from zooming past chantelle and oaklynn with light speed toward the water. he ran onto the wooden platform and jumped dramatically in.

ash surfaced immediately, comically freezing. if it were a cartoon he’d be blue and icy, bobbing in the water with his teeth chattering.

“jesus!” he yells, swimming around to try to get used to it but the water was just too nippy. oaklynn was cackling at the whole scene but chantelle was just irritated.

she went back to his car to find the foldable chairs and brought them out. placing them upright in front of a firepit.

she chuckled but it was more of a scoff— even outside of work chantelle found herself assisting her boss. she also brought ash’s towel and laid it out on a chair to get warm by the fire oaklynn began to make.

oaklynn is very outdoorsy. she used to be a girlscout and her favorite hobbies are hiking and mushroom picking. not to mention she’s a florist.

ash tried swimming around for at least a few more minutes but before he knew it, he was running out, frigid and shaky. he darted to his fluffy blue towel that was warm and cozy and started to smell like campfire smoke. he wrapped it around himself and sat down with satisfaction and comfort.

“knew that wasn’t a good idea.” oaklynn said with a giggle at ash.

“what.. do you.. mean? i.. had.. so much.. fun!” he said between teeth chatters, his cheeks and eyelashes glistening with drops.

they all chatted there around the fire for a good amount of time. well, chantelle was mostly silent while her chatty girlfriend conversed with her boss.

oaklynn and ash are well adjusted friends now, they’re past all the formalities. ash used to talk so much about professional subjects like work and networking and whatnot, but he dropped the act once he realized oaklynn wasn’t for it.

she’s into genuine, real conversations about things like hobbies and shared experiences. her storytelling is unmatched, going on and on about every little detail about childhood or trips or mishaps. the way she can entrance and keep someone on the edge of their seats, eager to hear her next words, was something chantelle wished she had more of in her.

ash developed love for the two being together and would be absolutely heartbroken if they ever broke up. more heartbroken than either of them maybe.

once ash was dry and clothed again, he got out skewers and a pack of hotdogs from the trunk.

“did you bring buns?” chantelle asks, looking around and seeing just the skewers and sausages.

ash was speechless, his mouth hung open a little as he remembered he completely forgot to bring the hotdog buns he left on the counter.

“um..”

“of course you didn’t.”

“hey..” oaklynn says, extending her little hand out to touch chantelle’s shoulder. “it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“yeah tellie don’t worry about it!”

something about ash, especially when he called her that, made chantelle even more irritated. she looked at the time on her phone.

8:01 pm

she tsked and tried her best to remain unaffected. “we should probably head back soon.”

“nah,” ash says, also noticing the hour. “we have plenty of time! here, let’s make these weenies!”

ash loves hotdogs. even when they don’t have a bun or chilli slathered all over it, he still enjoys them. but often times, he drops them. if the floor or counter is his own, he’ll 5 second rule it. but, here, on this sandy, dirty earth floor, he doesn’t risk it.

one fell after another, making oaklynn lose her shit from laughing at him across the fire. the hotdogs covered in dirt and twigs and soot rolling away from him on the ground took her out.

his fourth hotdog dropping was chantelle’s breaking point.

“just fucking-“ she grabs the pack of hotdogs from him, rips open the plastic, and stabs a skewer through one. handing that to him before she stormed away to sit in the car by herself.

…“what’s got her so worked up?” was the last thing she heard distantly from ash’s mouth to her girlfriend as she slammed the door shut. it irritated her even more.

“i-“ oaklynn says, turning to ash from staring at the car. she had no idea if chantelle is looking back at them, the windows are tinted probably an illegal amount. they’re completely opaque black. “i don’t know. she’s never usually like this.”

“everything ive been doing since we got here has pissed her off. i mean, this morning she was so happy.”

oaklynn shrugs, worried about her girl. after all it’s their anniversary, you’d think she’d be super joyful and laid back today. but, come to think of it…

“do you remember last year?” oaklynn asks ash, recalling their last anniversary. ash wasn’t present of course but he knows what happened.

one of chantelle’s brothers showed up at her place asking her if he could stay with her. he isn’t the best person, though. his lifestyle is extraordinarily different than hers. chantelle, strong and intelligent and passionate, found her way in life by hard work and honesty. her brother jamal however, has gotten by with many.. many cut corners. he’s no stranger to the streets and he’s been on parole more times than you can count on one hand.

chantelle didn’t know how to react when she opened the door to jamal. he just stood there, chin up acting like he wasn’t in desperate need of her help. acting like a thug even though chantelle knows deep down he isn’t one. she’s known him so well ever since they were little.

oaklynn was in the kitchen at a barstool, unbeknownst to what was going at the door. she didn’t even know who was there. one moment, her girlfriend is cooking a loving homemade brisket dinner for her, the next she’s yelling at someone behind a heavy, shut front door.

when she came in again, her older brother trailed behind her, following her into the nice apartment.

“wow.. this what you been doing away from home?” he said, his way of complimenting. “you makin a bag, huh?”

she never responded. not wanting to even remember her old life with her family in miami.

“oaklynn,” she cleared her throat, looking anywhere but her girlfriends eyes. “this is jamal, my brother.”

“what’s good?” he says, giving her a head nod instead of a handshake, even though oaklynn tried greeting him with one. her pale hand dropped to her lap when she realized he wasn’t going to extend his.

the whole night chantelle was tense. nothing happened, but she still cut the food with frustration. still eyed the door like some other man she used to know would walk in. the stress displayed on her face the whole time they ate their anniversary dinner. which was odd, because the year prior they did the same thing but they were excited and happy and free. oaklynn swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed away the mere idea of the tension being related to their relationship. she was and is and forever will be in love with the woman that is chantelle.

jamal’s presence brought chantelle’s entire mood down, replacing her fluffy white cloud with a dark, rainy one. despite it all oaklynn still kissed her goodnight when the two parted, and she told her how much she loved her. how much she’ll always love her- stressed out and all.

ash bit his lip as they talked about it. feeling like an asshole. this was their day, and while oaklynn certainly doesn’t mind company, it’s apparent that chantelle does. he gave her his word that it would only be one hour.

she was being kind and polite coming here with him because of how alone he’s been, but the way he prolonged their hour into now two hours was wildly inconsiderate of him.

he dug around in his athletic shorts pocket for his keys. after finding them he clicked the button, starting his car from all the way over by the fire.

only, it didn’t start.

that’s odd..

he’ll start it when they pack up and put the fire out he guesses. but once they’ve done that and theyre all packed into the audi, his start button just won’t turn the engine over.

he kept pushing it and the car sounded horrible.

“wait right here.” he says and exits the car, coming up to the front to pop the hood.

when he does he realizes he has no fucking clue why did that. he knows absolutely nothing about engines. nothing about what he’s looking at. the whole reason why he bought a luxury german car was so that he didn’t ever have to worry about the engine. it’s meant to be reliable.

but at the end of the day. it’s a car. it’s not never going to break.

oaklynn comes out and quietly stands beside ash. they’re silent for a moment while he pretends like he knows what he’s looking at, his hands planted on his hips like a concerned father.

“..should i call jer?” she says after a long moment of them staring at the engine.

“your mechanic cousin?”

oaklynn nods, “mhm! he actually lives outside of town too so he’s in the area.”

ash bit the inside of his cheek after he agreed. he’s never met jericho but he’s heard about him. oaklynn has tried to get them to come to a few of ash’s parties but he never showed up.

“i’ll call him,” oaklynn says as she pulls out her phone, walking away to get a smidge of privacy.

ash shuts the hood and sighs, thinking of this mystery mechanic.

if all goes well, maybe ash could become this jericho guys’ new regular. he had a tiny crack in his windshield he was hoping to get fixed soon, that’d be a good opportunity for a potential return.

oaklynn came back, crunching the gravel with her yellow flip flops. she told ash he was on his way and will be here in a few minutes with tools.

“he must be quite the gentleman. i’ll have to pay him generously.”

“oh don’t bother,” she waved it off. “they won’t accept any money, especially if the situation has anything to do with me.”

“doesn’t except money huh?” ash wiggled his brows. “i’ll have to pay him in another way.” he joked, pushing his tongue to his cheek and moving his balled up hand back and forth.

oaklynn laughed her cheeky, loud laugh and slapped his arm playfully at him mocking a blowjob. “you fucking freeeakk!” she yelled.

ash squinted with his smiles and held his arm, acting like her short frame could ever do any real harm to him. in fact he barely even felt her slap at all.

he noticed oaklynns grin fade away and he followed her line of vision. it was chantelle- she was out of the car and walking to the lake in frustration.

the time was 8:38, they’d surely miss the reservation and have to give up their table. not to mention it would set back the time they set aside to go to the movies.

“you should go talk to her.” oaklynn says.

“what? no, she doesn’t want to deal with me right now, i can tell. you go possum, you’re her partner.”

“ash.”

he turns to look at her, prying his eyes away from chantelle’s moody silhouette at the lake. “yeah?”

“go.”

it didn’t take much convincing, plopping his jingly keys into the little hand of the woman beside him. as he walked up to his assistant he heard the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel.

it took everything in him not to just ditch chantelle and run up to the gorgeous, glossed, blacked out car with a wing that just arrived. he didn’t even know what kind of car it was. he had to force himself to turn his head away as a boy in a black hoodie stepped out to greet their cousin.

right now, his focus was chantelle, and nothing else. he willed the world to fade away around them so he could comfort her. because at the end of the day, she was not only his secretary but his real friend.

it didn’t look it though with the way she glared at him through wet lashes. “what?” she grunts, keeping her composure the best she could.

“i’ll get you another reservation at casa bellissima.”

she doesn’t reply.

not even after a few minutes. ash struggles to find the right words, getting distracted every other second because he so desperately wants to look behind him and see this mysterious mechanic cousin of oaklynn’s hook up jumper cables to his audi. he oh so wishes he could help.

“it’s not about the restaurant.” she finally speaks, waking him out of his daze.

“what’s up then?”

chantelle sighs. “i just wanted this night to go perfect. to spend time alone with oaklynn..” she says, gesturing her hands.

“the way i see it,” he treads carefully, knowing he isn’t the best with reassuring words. “this night hasn’t been so bad. i mean yeah my car died but you’ll still get to go home with her. look, we’re saved.” ash motions to jericho. “you’re not stuck here with your obnoxious boss all night.”

“you’re not obnoxious,” she replies with a slight laugh.

“don’t lie,” he chuckles back, skipping a smooth stone perfectly across the lake. it goes for nine jumps.

he hands another smooth one to chantelle. hers only skips for two jumps before failing and drowning down to the bottom.

another sigh escaped her, this time more relaxed. “i was.. going to propose tonight. i have the ring on the dresser next to the dress i was going to wear.”

ash’s jaw drops and he finds her hand immediately, squeezing it. “oh my god, are you serious?”

she smiles and her free hand goes up to her teary, mascara ruined bottom lashes.

ash wipes them for her with his thumb. “i’m so sorry, i would have never kept you guys like this if i had known.”

“i know, i know.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“because..” she looks at the lake again and takes her hand away from his loving yet tight grip. “i know how you are. you’re going to want to pick my hair and pick my ring and pick everything. sometimes i just have to tell you after it’s all said and done because that way.. you’re happy for me with no conditions.”

“i’m always happy for you, chantelle.” he shakes his head and shuts his eyes. “god, im so sorry and you’re right. i know i unintentionally micro manage.”

“it’s in your nature, you can’t help it.”

it’s silent for a moment before she restarts. “that was rude- i didn’t mean it that way. i meant to say i would never ask you to change. you’re yourself, and i love you, asher.”

he swallowed and laughed as he realized a tear fell down his cheek. “i’m supposed to be comforting you, girl. come here.”

he pulled chantelle into a movie-scene like hug. it was long, and warm, and strong. only pulling away so that ash could scrub his face- getting rid of his teary eyes so he could walk up this gravel with chantelle and meet this guy.

“she’ll say yes, by the way. i know it.” he whispers.

as they walked up, ash’s heart took a nose dive straight to his dick after seeing oaklynn’s cousin, completely taking him out of the warm, platonic moment just shared second ago.

he made a noise to which chantelle got startled by. it was like a shocked gasp-laugh.

“how long has oaklynn been concealing this absolute stud muffin?!” he whisper shouted to her. chantelle just hit his arm, her way of silently telling him “shut up!”

“hey!” jericho waves, one of his hands wearing a black rubber glove, the other bare. “sick a4 you have here, what’s her name?”

ash winces in embarrassment. “name?”

“don’t you name your cars?” he smiles. ash feels himself fold at the sight.

“n-no.. should i?”

“absolutely. this is cobra, for example.”

oh my god, ash thinks. it’s even cooler up close. there’s a few dents in the body but since it’s black it’s hardly noticeable. the shape was so fluid and compact and looked vastly different from his own, heavier sedan.

“what is it?” he wonders out loud, taking it all in.

“a ‘95 rx-7. she’s a little dinged up,” jericho rubs the roof of it lovingly, it’s definitely his daily. “you should see my supra, it’s a beast.”

this guy is totally carsexual. he’s got more than one? and ash has no clue what he’s talking about. “supra?”

jericho purses his lips together to not smile. ash was a complete noob. “i’ll show you sometime.”

they introduce themselves and shake hands. to which ash forgets to let go, too focused on looking at the scar running through his eyebrow as he’s close enough to see it. it was jagged but long since healed over— totally badass.

meanwhile jericho took in ash’s appearance. sapphire eyes, inky black hair, and a single mole below his bottom lip to the right. handsome was an understatement.

once jericho finally got ash’s car started, they bid their adieu. but not before he smoothly gave ash the address to the shop he half owns and works at. “in case anything else happens to your cruelly unnamed ride” they had said.

ash put his hands on his cheeks. treating his fingers like water and his face was fire— attempting to put out all this heat. he wasn’t used to being the one getting talked up.

he typically did the talking. he was the one who was supposed to be charismatic and charming and smooth. but here he was, driving his friends back without a word out of his usually chatty mouth.

“you should bring jericho around more often so ash stays quiet like this,” chantelle said to oaklynn who was sat in the backseat.

“oh shut up,” ash managed to get out, pulling into chantelle’s apartment complex parking lot. he parked in the handicap spot effortlessly and got an earful from miss righteous planet-loving 5 foot nothing. how’s the weather down there? is his go-to response with her.

as oaklynn headed in, chantelle got hung up by ash. his tinted window rolled down and her leaning into it. “are you going to do it tonight?” he asks.

chantelle avoids his gaze. she shrugs and smiles, “if the timing is right.”

“oh cmon, the timing is always right. you guys are meant to be.”

chantelle said goodbye after ash told her he better see a ring on her finger the next time she clocks into work.

he hopes it’s a large shiny rock but knowing chantelle, she’ll be wearing a simple gold band on her own finger. it’s oaklynn who’ll have a little beautiful stone.

on his drive home, ash daydreams about getting a ring for someone one day. how he’d go all out and spoil the shit out of some lucky person. he’d drop a brick on something so extravagant just because he can and it’d put everyone else to shame.

coincidentally the radio began playing that’s what i like by bruno mars and he started laughing. this annoying ass, corny song was ash’s anthem he thought. or would be his anthem if he had a special someone to spoil.

he finds himself also thinking of names for his audi, just so he could see jericho again.

˚ · .

as always jericho copyright dylan :-) TY for reading!