#i don’t know if it was the pandemic or before that but it’s fucking hell over there

[sharkieboi]

started playing Abzu on my switch, finally, after owning it for literal years, and while I have no idea what the fuck is going on in terms of the story (WHAT are the triangles that keep electrocuting me and what are all these temples) it is so beautiful and enthralling and has honestly been really helpful in my sadness that I haven’t been able to swim or go to the beach or scuba dive in the past couple years

[veganineden]

On the Evolution of “Happily Ever After” and Why “Nothing Lasts Forever”

A reflection inspired by Good Omens 2

One of my favorite Tumblr posts on the second season of Good Omens 2 was actually not about the series at all, but our reaction to it, primarily the ending. @zehwulf wrote, “I think a lot of us—myself included—got a little too comfortable with assuming [Aziraphale and Crowley would] work on their issues right away post-Armageddon.” We did the work for them through meta, fanfiction, fanart, and building a plethora of headcanons. Who among us AO3-surfing fans didn’t read and love Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm?

In the 4 long years since season one was released, we did more than seek to understand and repair rifts between two fictional beings: we were forced to reckon with ourselves too. We faced a global pandemic, suffered traumatizing losses and isolation, and were forced to really and truly look into the face of our atrocities-ridden and capitalistic world. The mainstream rise of Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Justice work, and our participation in this work, showed us that the systems in place were built to oppress and harm most of us, and they are. 

So, what does this have to do with the evolution of “happily ever after”? 

My friend put it best in a conversation we had following the season finale, when she pointed out a shift in media focus. The “happy end” in old stories about wars and kingdoms used to be “we killed the evil old king and put a noble young king in his place and now citizens can live in peace” and we’re transitioning into a period of “we tore down the whole fucking monarchy.” 

If we look at season one, written to follow the beats of a love story, it comforted us by offering a pretty traditional happy ending pattern: you get your fancy dinner with your special someone, the romantic music plays, and you have a place to call your own. Season one’s finale provided a temporary freedom for Aziraphale and Crowley, the “breathing room,” but it didn't solve the problem that was Heaven and Hell, or the agendas belonging to those systems of oppression. 

Is it good enough to keep our heads down, pretend the bad stuff isn’t happening, and live our own personal happy endings until we die? Moral quandaries aside, if you don't die (or if you care about the generations after you), then, like Aziraphale said, it “can’t last forever.” There’s a clear unpleasant end to the “happily ever after” that’s based on ignoring our problems– it’s the destruction of our relationships, and humanity. 

Ineffable Bureaucracy can go off into the stars because they do not care about humanity. 

You know who does?

Aziraphale. 

And Aziraphale knows that Crowley cares about humanity too. (He knows because Crowley was the one who proposed sabotaging Armageddon in the first place, who only invited him to the stars when he thought all was lost, because Crowley would save humanity if he thought it was possible, and Aziraphale knows Crowley has survived losing Everything before, and he will do all in his power so that Crowley does not need to experience that again.) 

In season one and two, we see how much they care about humanity, beyond their orders, to the point The Systems begin to frown at them. Aziraphale hears Crowley’s offer to run away together in the final episode of season two, to leave Earth behind, and just like the first time that offer was made in season one, he declines. He knows choosing only “us” is not a choice either of them can live with for the rest of eternity.

I believe season 3 will provide an opportunity to “dismantle the system,” but I don’t know how it will play out. I worry that Aziraphale has put himself in the now-dead trope of the “young noble king.” (I wish Crowley had told him why Gabriel was dismissed from his duties.) I worry that he would martyr himself as a sole agent for change. I worry that he doesn’t actually know how to dismantle anything by himself: because you can’t. He needs Crowley. He DOES. He needs Crowley, and Muriel, and other angels and demons and humans without fixed mindsets to help him. Only by learning to listen and making room at the table for all can they (and we) move past personal satisfaction to collective liberation. 

Crowley was right when he said that Aziraphale had discovered his “civic obligations.”

So, I think we will get our modern-day happy ending– and it’s going to involve a lot of pain and discomfort, communication, healing and teamwork– and in the end, it’ll all be okay. There will be a time for rest and a time for “us.” 

And most likely a cottage. 

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

 - Maya Angelou

Support the SAG-AFTRA strike and other unions. Trust @neil-gaiman. Register to vote if you haven’t yet. Hold yourself and others accountable with compassion. Read books. Keep doing the work. Rest. Then watch Good Omens 2 again.  

[forever-rogue]

I have a Joel request 🥰 Maybe reader was pregnant when the beginning of the pandemic happened and they got separated until years later when they reunite and their kid is older?? Whether or not joel knows about the pregnancy is up to you 🫠

Fluffy and angsty if you wish, but please not too angsty cause my heart is still healing from that angst fic 😅💔

(I see someone has already brought up a similar idea, but I thought I'd request for your take on the story cause I can never get enough of your writing!!!)

AN | Don’t worry babe, I’ve got you! But really I love this concept!

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.7k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Joel?" your voice shook, and it was so painfully obvious that you were trying not to cry. Then again, a lot of people had been doing a lot of crying lately. You couldn't blame them; the world had basically ended.

And now it felt like yours was ending all over again. Fuck.

You padded into the living room of the apartment that now served as home for god knows how long. You found him sitting on the couch and staring out the window. He wasn't paying attention to what was going on out there, which happened to be very bleak at the moment. 

"Joel?" you called his name again, moving closer and hesitantly putting your hand on his shoulder. He startled easily lately; you didn't want to be the cause of it. He finally snapped back into attention and looked at you, all dark circles and empty eyes. It broke your heart, "I-I have something to tell you."

He remained quiet but looked raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, suddenly at a loss for words.

How were you supposed to tell him that you were pregnant?

The world had come apart at the seams and he'd just lost his daughter. This was absolutely the worst in the world for all of this to happen.

You waved your hands for a moment, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole, "I-I'm-"

Before you could go any further, a loud knocking came at the door. Both of you startled as Joel jumped up and walked over to the door, opening it hurriedly, "what?"

"New horde of infected," a man's gruff voice reached your ears, "FEDRA wants everyone to pack up and go now."

"How far away?"

"Less than a mile."

You did not like the sound of that. A lump welled up in your throat as you looked at Joel helplessly. His face hardened into an unreadable expression before he gave the man, you were pretty sure his name was Nick, a hard nod, “we’ll be ready to go.”

“Good,” he was already moving along to the couple next door, “now go, there’s no time to lose.”

Joel slammed the door shut before letting out a long sigh. He was tired, so, so tired, but he couldn’t just give up. He had to keep going, he had to keep pushing. 

“Joel?”

“Pack a bag, whatever you want grab,” he motioned towards the bedroom, “it doesn’t really matter anymore, but get what you need.”

“What’s going to happen?” your mind was reeling with worry; about you, him, the baby, and whatever the hell was about to go down, “I-I’m scared.”

“I know baby,” he set his large hands on your shoulders, “but right now you can’t worry about that. Just focus on getting your stuff and leaving. Ten minutes, okay? Then we have to get over to the FEDRA station and leave. Yes?”

“Yes,” you agreed shakily, already padding back to your bedroom to get the few possessions you had felt in the world.

Joel nodded as he went to grab his stuff, knives and guns and other weapons, agreeing to meet at the door shortly.

Time seemed to move in a combination of incredibly fast and wickedly slow and before you knew it, Joel was calling for you to leave. You met him at the door the two of you looked at each other in silent understanding.

The trek over to the FEDRA outpost wasn’t far and the other people in the small community were already in a panic to get out, all scrambling around each other. You grew nervous, wondering if you’d be able to get out in time. 

Joel’s hand was on the small of your back as he led you closer to the vehicles designated for exactly this purpose. 

The rest of it all happened so fast. The first group of infected had come around and were making their way into what you had once believed to be a safe space. Chaos ensued as some people tried to get out as quickly as possible and others hung back to try and fight. 

“Go,” Joel shielded you as he walked you over to the one of the vehicles. You were trying to get him inside with you, holding onto his hand tightly and pulled him. 

“Joel-”

“Go,” he insisted firmly and for a moment, time stood still as he kissed you, “go. Get out to safety, okay?”

“What about you?” you hadn’t realized you’d started crying; you hated that he had to be such a good man, “please, come with me now. Please-”

“I’ll find you,” it was a promise both of you knew he might not be able to keep, “I swear it. I’ll find you.”

“Joel-”

“I love you,” he took a step back as the vehicle started up and a few stragglers tried to get on, “I’ll find you soon.”

“I love you,” you cried, “please. Please.”

You weren’t even sure what you were asking for. Everything felt so surreal and left you in a daze; the next thing you knew, he was gone. 

You were leaving to get to the next safe space and he was just gone. 

You’d never felt more numb. 

But you never let go of the hope that one day he’d find you.

Joel Miller was a good man.

A good man that kept his promises.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Luca!" you sighed softly as you tried to find your son. You loved him dearly, but sometimes he just stressed out. He was just a kid though, and you couldn't be mad at him for that. 

He also happened to be extremely friendly and sociable, which made him popular among everyone. You walked down the street to one of his little friend's houses, sure they were just playing.

It was almost too quiet when you got there, and you were sure that they'd gone off somewhere else. You knocked on the door nonetheless and Lisa opened it, smiling when she saw it was you, "hey darlin', I'm afraid they're not here if you're looking for the little bundle of chaos they are."

"I had a feeling," crossing your arms over your chest you rolled your eyes playfully, "it's way too quiet and calm here."

"It's a nice change of pace if I do say so," she winked at you and the two of you exchanged smiles that only a single mother would understand, "do you want to come in for a bit?"

"Rain check?" You asked sheepishly, "I was going to go friend the kiddos….realistically I know they're fine but I'd rather see it with my own eyes."

"Definitely," she gave your shoulder a squeeze, "see you around."

It was a beautiful spring day, warm and breezy with small creatures scurrying about; it always felt like life was back to normal. Or what you had once known as normal…but this had been your reality for almost seven years now. Maybe this was your normal now. 

Nonetheless you decided to remain positive and decided instead to head down to the pond where the kids liked to play. Spring had brought around a bunch of ducklings and you were sure that the kids would be mesmerized by them. But, to be quite honest, so were you. The magic of such simple things was not lost on you. Now, more than ever, these sorts of things were so important. 

“Luca?” you saw a bunch of small figures around and screaming, and you finally relaxed. As you came into view, the boy grinned at you a big smile on his face, his curls roguish from the wind, “hey babe. You doin’ okay?”

“I’m okay,” he confirmed, his brown eyes sparkling as you ruffled his hair affectionately, “are you okay, mama?”

“Of course,” you crouched down so you were eye level with him, “all better now that I know you’re here. Remember when we talked about letting me know when you go out to play?”

“Yes,” he looked worried for a moment before you shook your head softly, “I’m sorry. I got excited about playing and forgot.”

“It’s okay,” you touched his cheek softly, “I’m not mad. Next time can you please remember to tell me?”

“Okay,” he wrapped his small arms around you, hugging you as best as he could. He was a sweetheart and of all the kids you could have ended up with, you were glad he choose you, “can I go back and play now?”

“Definitely,” tender kisses were pressed to his cheeks as you tickled his sides, “go and be good! I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you too, mama,” and off he was, running back to his friend as you watched him go. 

You slowly stood up before stretching and relishing in the popping of your joints. Having been reassured that he was going to be okay, you decided it was time to go back and start tending to the communal gardens. You never really had a green thumb before, but the last few years had really helped you grow. 

You were wrapped up in your own thoughts and almost didn’t notice the man in the middle of the sidewalk, clearly confused. You’d heard some newcomers might be headed your way, but you hadn’t come across any of them yet. Having new people around was something you’d come to love; it wasn’t common most of the time. 

“Hello there,” you were practically beaming as you bounced over to him. The man turned around at the sound of your voice, “you must be new…”

You stopped dead in your tracks as soon as you met his face, suddenly unsure if this was real life or just a wicked dream. You blinked a few times, trying to clear your vision and figure out if what you were looking at was real. There was no way…absolutely none. 

But he looked just like him, watching you with equally curious eyes. Your heart was beating so fast you were surprised it didn’t burst through your ribcage. Your mouth ran dry but you managed to get one singular, “Joel?”

After a moment of stunned silence he nodded before whispering your name in return. The tears were already welling up and threatening to run down your cheeks. Before you knew it, the man that once was your partner, lover - everything - took you in his arms and crushed you to his chest. You didn’t mind.

He was all too familiar, bringing back a rush of memories and emotions as you buried your face in his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. The two of you held onto each other tightly for some time; you were afraid that if you let him go he would disappear again and you would wake up to find it was all a horrible dream. 

When he pulled back, he took your face in his hands and gently brushed your tears away with his thumb. He drank you in, trying to understand every single thing that had happened since the day you lost each other, “hi.”

“Hi,” you grinned back with a teary smile, “you’re here. Really here.”

“I’m here,” he promised, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead, “I’m here.”

“Joel, I-”

“Mama!” the small voice of your son reached your ears as he ran over to the two of you, “I found a little duckie and I don’t see the mom duck and it’s so small and can I keep him?”

“Whoa, bud, slow down there for a moment,” he tucked himself behind your legs, suddenly feeling shy when he realized Joel was there. You could see Joel’s eyes flick to the young boy as his brow furrowed in confusion. You put a hand on his shoulder and encouraged him to introduce himself, “can you say hi?”

“Hi,” he sounded so young as he looked at Joel; their eyes mirroring each other, “I’m Luca.”

“Hi Luca,” he held out his hand to shake the young boy’s much smaller one, his mind racing and reeling with questions. But he was a smart man and could put two and two together,  “I’m Joel.”

“My daddy’s name was Joel,” Luca mused as Joel turned his attention back to you, “that’s what mama said anyway. Can I go back to the ducks now?”

“Yeah babe, go ahead. Don’t touch them though and let the mama duck do her thing. I'm sure she'll be back,” he nodded in response before trekking away again, throwing a little wave at the two of you. You nervously turned your attention back to Joel. 

“A son?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion as you nodded softly, “we have a son?”

“Yes,” it felt like a huge weight lifted off your shoulders as you finally got to tell him what you had wanted all those years ago, “we have a son. He looks just like you.”

“I never…I had no clue,” he ran a hand over his face in surprise, “I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

“I found out that day,” also known as the day. When everything fell apart for a second time and you were separated from each other, “I was trying to tell you, right before Nick had come and knocked at our door. I realized that morning that I was…pregnant. And I never got the chance to tell you…when everything just started happening, it didn’t cross my mind again. And then…I lost you. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“You had to go through all of that alone,” he looked at you in awe as you shrugged lightly, “you had to go through being pregnant alone and then raised our son alone.”

“I had a lot of help along the way,” you admitted softly, “turns out that times like these are good at bringing out the worst and the best of people. I told him about you; from when he was little. I always wanted him to know what a wonderful man his father was. And now…he got to meet you.”

“All this time,” he could cry thinking about it all. You, alone and scared, being pregnant in a world that was collapsing, and then having to raise a son alone. He’d lost Sarah, a loss that hurt still, and he knew always would, and he’d almost lost his son. But the universe, fate, or whatever was out there had given him a second chance. Not only to find you, but to be you and the son you shared, “baby.”

“It’s okay,” this time the tears running down your cheeks were happy, “it’s okay. You’re here now and that’s all that matters. And now you’ll get the opportunity to know Luca, and it’s…all I ever wanted.”

“We have a son,” he repeated as though he was in a daze, a happy blissful daze.

“You don’t have to…if you don’t want to spend time with him or anything I-I understand,” it would kill you, but you’d understand, “I don’t want you to feel obligated just because. O-or if there’s someone else.”

“No,” he shook his head fervently, “there’s never been anyway else. How could there ever be? It was always you for me; you’re still it.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled with a small laugh, relieved to hear his answer, “it’s always been you for me too.”

“I was just planning on passing through,” he touched your face, thumb gently brushing over your cheek, “but if it’s okay with you, I could stay a while.”

“How about forever?” you asked softly, “i-if you want to. I-I mean we can figure it out, but-”

“Forever sounds perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

[heliza24]

I want to talk a little bit about Daniel in the Interview with the Vampire show, because the new trailer material has me stuck thinking about him, and also I’ve never written about how meaningful he is as disabled character to me before.

I don’t see many people thinking about show!Daniel in these terms, but he’s a canon disabled character. And I think the way he is written is just SO good. The acerbic wit, his relationship to doctors and his medication, his rueful acceptance of the way his disability has changed him. It is all so correct!! It’s really incredibly rare to have not only a disabled character written this well but specifically a chronically ill character written this well. His illness is always present; it doesn’t get forgotten about by the story. It gives Daniel insight into the vampires (more on this in a min), but it also gives Louis and Armand leverage over him. When Louis triggers his Parkinson’s symptoms? Deeply not ok. But that’s what made it such a great scene, and really made Louis feel dangerous and threateningin that moment. Armand and Louis arranging Daniel’s meds is a sign of great care and also great power over Daniel. It’s the perfect way to communicate the complicated power dynamic in their relationship.

I also just fucking love that this show takes place in 2022 and doesn’t erase the pandemic. Covid is a very present concern for Daniel and I cannot describe how validating that is for me as someone who is clinically vulnerable to Covid and who has had to really limit my life and take a lot of precautions because everyone else has decided to stop caring whether they pass on Covid or not. The fact that Daniel gets on a plane to Dubai is a BIG DEAL. He’s risking his life to talk to Louis and Armand before he’s even in the room with them. He really wants to be there. I have to make a similar calculation every time I travel, and trust me, getting on that plane knowing getting sick could spiral you into even worse health or kill you is really hard.

I think making Daniel disabled and including the pandemic is kind of a genius level decision on a thematic level. Of course Daniel is now facing down his mortality, which gives him a whole new lens on the vampires and the fact that he once asked them to turn him. And the pandemic further highlights his fragility, and is also possibly being used as a cover for drama that’s happening in the vampire world. But I think it also really sets Daniel up as a foil to Louis.

There’s a lot of analysis of the vampire chronicles that reads vampirism as a metaphor for queerness. But I would actually propose that it’s a much neater parallel for disability and illness in a lot of ways. So many of Louis’s initial experiences after being turned resonated with me, as someone who became chronically ill in my 20s. My appetite and relationship to food completely changed, much like Louis. My relationship with the outdoors and the sun changed, because of dysautonomia and allergy reasons. I was very mad, and very depressed, and I too have missed out on birthday parties and big life events like Louis did because I was too sick to go. Hell, you can even say that the way that Louis is treated as evil by his family, that the way vampires literally can’t be a part of society during the day, is reminiscent of ableist exclusion and ugly laws. (Ugly laws were laws that forbid disabled people, especially those with visible differences, from being out in public, and they were on the books in many American municipalities until the 1970s.) You can look at Lestat being an out and proud vampire in the first few episodes on the season and imploring Louis to leave his shame behind as a queer thing, but you can also view it as a disabled thing. Disabled people are portrayed as monstrous so often (and in a way that has gone relatively unexamined compared to say, the queer coded villain trope) that sometimes it’s just easier to embrace that label: I’m the monstrous Crip, but at least I’m not ashamed of or disgusted by who I am anymore.

I do think the real strength of this adaptation is that while you can find parallels between queerness or disability or other forms of marginalization with vampirism, ultimately it’s not a one-to-one parallel. It speaks to the real world but ultimately it is a gothic horror story about supernatural monsters. So I don’t mean to say that vampirism directly equals disability, because it does not. But I do think that making Daniel disabled was an intentional choice to help draw out some of those parallels, and I think the text is richer for it.

So Louis and Daniel have had these kind of parallel experiences of uncontrollable and difficult things happening to their bodies. It sets them up perfectly as foils, and even, I would argue, as the A plot and B Plot protagonists. This is one of my favorite ways of kind of examining the structure of a TV show (or maybe it’s that most of my favorite shows seem to be structured this way?). When TV was all episodic, it would be common to refer to the A plot (mystery of the week), B plot (interpersonal drama happening as the mystery gets solved) and C plot (any overarching plot tying the season together) in an episode. Now that stuff is serialized, there’s often a main protagonist, who has the main dramatic question and the most agency, and then there is often a secondary B plot that explores similar themes and mirrors the A plot, or presents a second main character who is the ldifferent side of the same coin” to the main protagonist. (My favorite example of this is Flint and Max in Black Sails, and I’ve also made the argument that Wilhelm and Sara fit this pattern in Young Royals.) In IwtV, Louis is obviously the main protagonist of the show, especially in the A Plot, which is the stuff taking place in New Orleans/Paris. But I would argue that Daniel is the protagonist of the B Plot set in Dubai. At the very least they’re intentionally set up as mirrors of each other:

They are both unreliable narrators, who are struggling with the way memory contorts (through memory erasure, illness, deliberate obfuscations, and just the passage of time). The most recent teaser trailer, where we hear Louis saying “I don’t remember that”, with panic in his voice, further underlined this similarity between Louis and Daniel to me. I don’t know if it means that Louis has also had his memory tampered with, as I’m assuming Daniel has, but I do think it means that Louis is going to be struggling with feeling out of control of his own narrative more in season 2, a thing that was already starting for Daniel in season 1.

They are also both locked into power struggles with people more powerful than they are. The fact that Louis is under Lestat in the flashbacks and above Daniel in the Dubai scenes in terms of power/status makes it all the more interesting. And, if we want to go ahead and assume that the Devils Minion’s years have happened in the past by the time we get to Dubai— it’s possible that both Daniel and Louis are united in being the less powerful partner in their own respective fucked up gothic romances.

They’re also both the audience’s entry point into their respective stories. Louis’s narration guides us into the world of vampires. Daniel’s questioning satisfies our human curiosity in Dubai.

I think one of the things that makes the show so special is the way that these two protagonists interact. In a lot of shows the a plot and the b plot stay pretty separate. I love talking about Black Sails for this because I think it’s such a good example; Flint and Max never exchange dialogue the entire show, even though they’re so clearly affecting each other the whole time. But the way that Louis and Daniel clash in Dubai is so exciting. We see them both wrestling for control of the narrative. It’s thrilling to watch and it just hammers home the theme of how complicated and changeable stories can be.

I am SO excited to see how the Dubai scenes play out in season 2 because of it. I really can’t wait. I’m really hoping we’ll see Daniel and Louis’s relationship evolve in surprising ways, and I’m holding my breath that we’ll get a lot of Armandaniel material to work with. (I have a whole other post drafted that’s much less smart than this one and is just me waxing poetic about Devil Minion’s theories which I may post at some point. You have been warned.)

I do have two wishes for Daniel in the new season, and they’re 1: that he gets to have romance/sex, because disabled (and older!) characters are so often seen as unworthy of being desired, and I would like to see that challenged and 2: that he continues to refuse to be turned/is not offered a vampiric cure for Parkinson’s. The magic cure for a disability or chronic illness is probably my least favorite disability trope, because it serves to erase disabled characters and representation from the narrative, and I want to see my experiences continue to be reflected in Daniel’s. That means that whatever ending Daniel’s story has will probably have at least a bit of tragedy baked into it, but I’m ok with that.

[sc0tters]

In The Water | Luke Hughes

summary: Luke has had a wandering eye for you all week so when he gets you in the pool one night it’s finally his turn to have some fun.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, swearing.

word count: 1.69k

authors note: I’ve been waiting to write this for weeks! It was fun writing the Luke x Quinn bsf pairing cause it means all I need to do is a Quinn x Luke bsf pairing then I’ve done all of the brother and friend pairings! Part of me is also starting to think that I’ve forgotten how to write smuts because I really don’t know how I feel about this one…

Luke thought the world was being cruel to him.

Originally he was fine when he heard that Quinn was bringing a girl to the lake house. But the moment he met you that idea quickly changed when he realised it was you.

The youngest Hughes boy didn’t know you from a bar of soap but watching you walk around in shorts and your little bikini top with Quinn’s tigers hat on your head made him feel some kind of way.

His speculations that something was going on between you and Quinn weren’t so wrong either, being neighbours in Vancouver you two learnt how to lean on each other during the pandemic and that sometimes resulted in sexual interactions between you two. But your little fuck buddy time together was a mere moment in your relationship and the last time you had gotten on your knees for the Hughes boy was well over a year ago.

But the level of banter that you two seemed to gain from having gone that far.

Quinn was fast asleep as you slipped out of the bed next to him letting your feet take you downstairs as you realised the light outside was still on.

Curiosity got the best of you and you were glad that it did as you walked out to see Luke in the pool.

His back muscles were defined as he would extend his arms with each stroke before he brought them back to his sides “I can feel you staring at me.” Luke mumble stretching his arms as he let his fingers press on the wall in front of him never taking this eyes off of the water.

You took this as a moment to walk up to him letting your legs down into the water as you sat on the side a couple of feet away from him “got a lot to stare at.” You shrugged sending him a smile as you weren’t going to hide that you were indeed looking at him “would have thought you’d want a closer look.” His smirk was clear as he finally looked up to see your eyes staring at him.

Taking in how his curls were wet as water droplets fell against his skin felt like a sight for sore eyes “where is the fun in just giving it to you Rusty?” You raised your eyebrows mentally letting out a silent cheer as Luke listened to you.

His fingers let go of the wall before he slowly swam over to you settling between your legs as he pushed your knees wider apart “think it’s unfair having you on a higher level than me.” Luke frowned as he let his hands run up your legs “can’t be getting Quinn’s shirt wet.” You shot back irritatingly reminding the younger boy about his thoughts of what Quinn must have done to you.

The hockey player ran his tongue over his lower lip “could just get you out of it.” It was the obvious option but the way it nervously came out of his mouth made you smirk “never thought of that one before.” You brought your hands to the hem of the shirt before you pulled it over your head revealing the skimpy little lingerie set that you decided to wear underneath it.

His swim shorts grew tight around his cock as his eyes trailed over your breasts with nipples barely covered by the black lacy fabric of the bra “fucking hell.” Luke mumbled under his breath taking in the sight as his eyes stared at the left nipple as he realised that you had pierced it.

The shiny titanium bar clearly stuck out as you pushed yourself off of the bricks that lined the pool slotting yourself between Luke and the wall as you smiled “you like what you see Hughesy?” You asked letting your fingers run down his abs as you innocently batted your eyelashes at him.

Luke swore that he was a deadman walking as he watched you look at him like he was the only man in the world “it’s all perfect.” His hands ran over your jaw as he tilted it up letting you look at him “like a fucking goddess.” The boy added bringing his lips down to yours.

You wanted to push onto your toes as his lips against yours and the boy smiled at your desperation “what do you want princess?” Luke smirked as you brought your hands up to hold his.

The hockey player watched as you let your lips form a pout “just fucking kiss me already Luke.” Your complaint was short lived when he captured your lips in a kiss.

It was hot as his tongue ran over your lower lip wanting to slide it into your mouth “please,” you whined feeling his bulge against your core “you sure?” Luke pulled away with big eyes full of concern “I don’t have a condom-” he added as he didn’t even have one upstairs and going into either of his brothers rooms to get one was just asking for a disaster to strike.

You pecked the boys lips wanting him to shut up “I’m on the pill and clean,” your tone was suggestive as he smiled “I am too.” Luke nodded as his heart practically pounded out of his chest “come and get me baby.” You mumbled into his ear before you pushed him away trying to swim away as you wanted to tease him.

Luke took a mere few seconds to reach out and grab your foot as he pulled you towards him “I don’t like chasing.” The hockey player muttered as his hands moved to your bra unhooking the back of it.

He wrapped his hands around your legs as he picked you up “have your way with me Lukey.” You smiled as he dropped his head to your pierced nipple.

His mouth wrapped around the sensitive peak “fuck Lu,” you cried as his tongue swirled around your piercing “you’re so good,” you cooed totally unaware of how each cry that left your lips went straight to his cock.

Your fingers locked into his curls as Luke brought his hand up to your other nipple making sure that it wouldn’t feel left out “I want you cock Luke.” You blurted out making him smile as he pulled away from your breasts “let’s get you out of these then.” Before you both knew it there was a wet mound of clothing that sat next to the pool as Luke ran his fingers over your stomach.

It was almost sweet as he backed you up against the wall “you sure you want this?” Luke asked you as his hands went to either side of you “yes Luke.” You nodded softly kissing his lips as he brought his cock up between your legs teasing your clit “shit!” You groaned as his cock slid down your slit before he trusted into your cunt.

Luke’s hands gripped at your sides as you adjusted to his size “move, please.” You gritted out making him nod “can’t believe how good you feel.” Luke blurted out as your picks moved up to wrap around his waist “been thinking about this all week.” He added making you smile through hooded eyes.

His breath fanned against your skin as you brought your hands up to lock in his hair again “should have made a move sooner.” You gritted your words out as your pussy clenched around his cock.

The hockey player nipped at your neck “can’t have hickies.” You shook your head “like my bikini.” The reminder of the tiny pieces that you wore made Luke smirk “want the boys to know you had a good time.” Trevor had been trying to flirt with you since the moment he arrived so this all was doing absolute wonders for Luke’s ego.

Water was pushed around you both as mini waves formed with each thrust of the boys cock “Luke-” your complaint was cut off as his hand slipped in between you both reaching down to your clit “oh my god!” You slapped your hand over your mouth as his cock began to throb between your legs.

Luke shook his head pulling your hand away “it’s just me baby.” He smiled pecking your lips “boys so asleep they won’t hear you.” The boy added knowing that each of the boys in the house were not going to be coming outside regardless of if they heard your moans or not.

Your legs tightened around his waist “I’m not gonna last.” You confessed letting your hands pinch at your breasts.

It made Luke smirk at how he knew he was making you feel “let it go baby.” The hockey player nodded pecking your lips as he wasn’t far behind “let anyone out here hear how good I make you feel.” He added sucking at your earlobe as you cried out.

It was hot watching you come around his cock as you body shook showing him just how good he made you feel as you brought your hips to grind against his bringing Luke’s orgasm on in the process “don’t stop.” You moaned letting your head fall back as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.

As you both came back down your breaths were heavy “that was hot.” You blurted out smiling as you pecked his lips when he slid his cock out of you “you think you can survive for another one?” Luke asked as he watched you make your way over to the other side of the pool “it’s getting late.” You sighed motioning to the sun that was starting to rise over the water as you pushed out of the water letting droplets run down your naked body.

Luke smirked as he watched you pull Quinn’s top over you “both need a shower before we go to bed.” The boy loved how the grey fabric clung to your wet breasts “grab those clothes and meet me up there.” You smiled as he sent you a salute pushing off of the wall to the other side of the pool before he followed your wet footprints into the house.

[bitchesgetriches]

Getting a job:

How to Write a Resume so You Actually Have a Prayer of Getting Hired

How to Write a Cover Letter like You Actually Want the Job

Ask the Bitches: What the Hell Else Can I Do to Get a Job?

How to Frame Volunteering on Your Resume When You’ve Never Had a Job

How To Get Ready For a Job Interview: Prep Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself

Common Job Interview Questions and How to Answer Them with the Confidence of a Mediocre White Dude

10 Questions You Should Never Be Asked in a Job Interview

What to Wear (and What Not to Wear) to a Job Interview

What to Do When You’re Asked About Your Salary Requirements in a Job Interview

How NOT to Determine Your Salary

How to Find Remote Work: On Getting the Elusive Work-From-Home Job

High School Students Have No Way of Knowing What Career to Choose. Why Do We Make Them Do It Anyway?

The Actually Helpful, Nuanced, Non-Bullshit Way to Choose a Future Career

Myers-Briggs Personalities and Income: What Your Type Says About Your Salary

I Just Applied for a Job. How (And When) Should I Follow Up?

Our Best Secrets for a Successful, Strategic, and SHORT Job Search

Season 2, Episode 11: “I Tripped and Fell into a Career I Don’t like. How Do I Reinvent Myself?”

Freelancing and side jobs:

Should Artists Ever Work for Free?

Stop Undervaluing Your Freelance Work, You Darling Fool

Romanticizing the Side Hustle: When 1 Job Isn’t Enough

The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships

Freelancer, Protect Thyself… With a Fair Contract

Ask the Bitches: My Boss Won’t Give Me a Contract and I’m Freaking Out

I Lost My Job and It Might Be the Best Worst Thing That’s Ever Happened to Me

Becoming a Millennial Entrepreneur (in the Midst of a Pandemic) with Katelyn Magnuson

11 Awful Mistakes I Made as a Self-Employed Freelancer, and How YOU Can Avoid Them

Workplace benefits:

Workplace Benefits and Other Cool Side Effects of Employment

Your School or Workplace Benefits Might Include Cool Free Stuff

Your Yearly Free Medical Care Checklist

Dafuq Is a Retirement Plan and Why Do You Need One?

How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year

Season 2, Episode 6: “Someone Offered to Mentor Me! How Do I Be a Non-Sucky Mentee?”

Navigating the workplace:

My Secret Weapon for Preparing for Awkward Boss Confrontations

Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace

Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job

Can Looking Weird at Work Be Good for Your Career?

Why Is Short Hair Controversial? An Examination of Expensive, Annoying Beauty Standards

Season 1, Episode 1: “Should I Tell My Boss I’m Looking for Another Job?”

You WILL Regret Accepting Your Coworker’s Social Media Friend Request

Season 1, Episode 5: “I Don’t Love My Job, but It Pays Well. Should I Quit—or Tough It Out?”

Season 2, Episode 7: “How Do I Throw My Incompetent Coworkers under the Bus?”

Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace

Getting a raise:

Salary Range: Are You Asking for Enough?

A Millennial’s Guide to Growing Your Salary

The First Time I Asked for a Raise

You Need to Ask for a Fucking Raise

Should You Increase Your Salary or Decrease Your Spending?

Getting a promotion:

Santa Isn’t Coming and Neither Is Your Promotion: How To Get Promoted

How I Chessmastered Myself Into a Promotion at Work

Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty by the Numbers

The Fascinating Results of Our Job Hopping vs. Career Loyalty Poll

I Hate My Job and I Don’t Know How To Leave It: A Confession

A New Job, a New Day, a New Life, and I’m Feeling Good

Season 1, Episode 9: “I’ve Given up on My Dream Career. Where Do I Go From Here?”

Working remotely

How to Successfully Work from Home Without Losing Your Goddamn Mind (Or Your Job)

How to Find Remote Work: On Getting the Elusive Work-From-Home Job

8 Genres of Productivity Music (Plus Our Secret Stash of Personal Favorites)

My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD

[yutaholic]

need to know (M)

PAIRING: Taeyong (NCT) + reader (female)

GENRE: stuck in quarantine; a hot mess; smut

SUMMARY: Taeyong is a great roommate and you would never do anything to jeopardize your friendship with him, but the longer you’re cooped up in the apartment together, the harder it gets to ignore what’s starting between you and him.

WARNINGS: mild language; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 3.2k words; listening to need to know by doja cat

Well, it finally happened. You overheard your roommate masturbating.

And after gasping in horror, followed by flushing with total embarrassment, you did the unthinkable. You pressed your ear to the door and kept listening. It wasn’t your proudest moment, but a few minutes later, in the privacy of your bathroom, it led to one hell of an orgasm.

After that, you could barely look at Taeyong when you were together in the shared living space. Or the kitchen. Would he drop dead of shock if you told him he had the sexiest moans you’d ever heard? How could you mention to him that you’d listened to him jack off and then fingered yourself in the shower?

The answer was you couldn’t. No way in hell. So, you kept your mouth shut.

Firstly, Taeyong didn’t like you like that. Of that you were certain. You were friends and roommates and nothing more. Second, you’d be damned if you jeopardized a fantastic living arrangement in the middle of a global pandemic.

But as that pandemic continued with no end in sight and more time was spent in isolation, frustration set in.

Then, the worst thing of all happened. Your vibrator died.

Old Faithful. Ole Reliable. She was gone. You dragged your feet out to the kitchen and dropped her into the trash bin.

“What’s wrong?” Taeyong asked curiously, seeing the pout you were sporting.

“She’s dead.”

Taeyong glanced over, catching a glimpse of the hot pink vibrator just as you closed the lid to the trash. His eyes widened and he mumbled, “Oh, I always thought that buzzing noise was your phone.”

You almost burst into laughter, covering your mouth to hide it.

Taeyong’s cheeks flushed when he realized you and he were standing beside the dead remains of your vibrator, indirectly talking about your sex life.

“I masturbate too, you know,” you said calmly.

“Too?” Taeyong stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You rolled your eyes. “Come on, Tae. We’re both adults.”

Taeyong looked one more breath away from passing out. Thanks to his upbringing, it felt disrespectful talking to a girl about this that wasn’t his intimate partner. Especially when said girl was who he thought of when he fisted his dick at night.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized. Given the look on his face, you’d overstepped an unspoken boundary. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Forget I said anything.”

Taeyong surprised you. “No. It’s fine. I was worried about making you uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine.”

Well, with that established, Taeyong could ask the important questions. “Do you, uh, have a replacement?”

You perked up at him being less awkward about it and replied, “I’ve ordered another one, but they’re backed up and delayed. Can’t imagine why.”

Taeyong snorted.

“That just leaves the trusty dildo,” you added offhandedly.

Taeyong’s cheeks flared with heat again. He did not need to be thinking about you fucking yourself with a dildo. Was it pink too? Your roommate asked before he could stop himself, “Is it big?”

You fought back a chuckle. “It’s not huge, if that’s what you’re wondering. Do you wanna see it?”

“Your dildo?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you asked how big it was.”

Taeyong mumbled, “The number of inches would be fine.”

“Six insertable.”

Insertable? Oh, god. Taeyong absolutely did not need to think about anything inserting inside you. Inside your pussy. Wet and throbbing and... fuck.

He swallowed the massive lump in his throat and tried to ignore the faint twitch of his cock in his pants, and deflected with humor. “So, women wanting ten inch dicks is a myth?”

“Every woman is different,” you said coolly. “I can’t handle ten. Five to seven is perfect for me.”

That was music to Taeyong’s ears. His cock twitched again. The one that was within that range when hard. Stop it, Taeyong chided. But he was already thinking with his dick when he asked, “Is it girthy?”

You watched him shift his weight. If you didn’t know any better, you would think this was turning him on a little bit. You decided to test him. “Are you sure you don’t wanna see it?” Your tone was coy.

Taeyong studied you. There was a short pause. He didn’t want to be a coward and his curiosity gave him a shove. “Show me the damn dildo.”

You turned on your heels and marched right into your room, your pulse thundering with excitement (and arousal) at the sound of his footsteps behind you. You opened the top door of your dresser, slipped your hand into the folded panties and took out a dildo.

“It’s orange,” Taeyong said, as if it weren’t obvious. And orange was an understatement. It was bright and borderline fluorescent. It would reflect headlights in traffic.

Taeyong tilted his head slightly. The damn thing even had veins. It was one of the most realistic looking fake cocks he’d ever seen (though for the record, he hadn’t seen many). Complete with balls. Whew. What a time to be alive.

“Yeah. It looks like a creamsicle,” you said cutely, giving the dildo a quick wiggle just to get a reaction out of him.

Taeyong chuckled. “Does that mean you suck on it too?”

“Of course. Throat game and all that.”

Taeyong realized too late that he was licking his lips, thinking about your lips wrapped around that fake cock. Which made him think about your lips sealing around his very real - and soon to be very hard - dick.

You loved that he was getting less and less skittish about it. You and Taeyong had always been comfortable with each other.

But by the way he was looking at you, you knew he was imagining what that mouth could do.

You cocked your head. “Do you want me to show you?”

His eyes flickered and his dick practically leapt in his pants, getting stiffer in record time. “You wanna suck my dick?”

You meant the dildo. You definitely meant the dildo. But boy oh boy, just hearing him say it made you clench your thighs.

“Yes,” you said, trying to hide your excitement. It had been so long since you got to choke on a cock.

And it had been even longer since Taeyong got a blow job. Not that he was inclined to tell you that. It was too embarrassing.

He tended to avoid them, because he came too fast. But Taeyong had a feeling he could trust you. You were so nonchalant about the whole thing. Talking about sex didn’t make you flush like he did.

No. Taeyong knew you wouldn’t pass judgement.

So, he started unfastening his jeans and you glanced down to watch, licking your lips at those veiny arms, before dropping to your knees at his feet and helping him get his dick out of his pants.

His girth surprised you at first. Honestly, you weren’t expecting him to be so thick in your grasp considering his lean build. Wrapping your hand around his half-hard cock, you let saliva spill from your lips and onto the tip, working him up with your spit so he was easier to pump in your fist.

Taeyong cursed softly, sucking in a breath through his teeth at your touch. Fuck, when was the last time a hand other than his own touched his dick?

You were out of your mind with lust. Isolation was a motherfucker. You were so horny you couldn’t form the words, so you didn’t. Your mouth watered as he grew painfully stiff in your grasp until you finally wrapped your lips around the head and sucked.

Taeyong, to your delight, moaned and the sound sent a shudder straight to your core. You already knew he was vocal and nothing made you wetter than a lover that wasn’t afraid to make noise. You liked knowing you were doing a good job and making him feel good.

You took more of him in your mouth as reward, bobbing back and forth until the head of him was in the back of your throat, and you swallowed around him for good measure.

“Fuck,” Taeyong groaned loudly, getting a handful of your hair. He needed something to hold onto.

You focused on hollowing your cheeks, working around his dick, trying to get him off. You held his hips with your hands and pressed your fingertips into his flesh, rocking him toward you.

Taeyong gave a tentative thrust into your mouth, jaw going slack at the wet squelching and gasping sounds coming from your throat where the head of his cock was buried.

He had no idea you had this side to you. You were calmly sucking him dry, barely breaking a sweat. It turned him on more than anything; you being on your knees for him. And goddamn, you had dropped to your knees so eagerly. Taeyong gathered all of your hair into a ponytail and wound the strands around his fist, gently steering your head up and down his dick.

You relaxed, handing him the reins, letting him use your mouth as he pleased. Your panties were soaked against your folds, drenched with your arousal. Your walls clenched each time he thrust into your mouth. His moans were so delicious you hummed, sending vibrations through his cock that almost made his knees buckle.

“I’m coming,” Taeyong warned breathlessly, pumping faster into your throat.

So soon, you thought, haughty as ever. You scraped your fingers down his thighs before reaching right for his balls, massaging and squeezing them. The moment you did, Taeyong choked out a moan and emptied himself down your throat, shaking and jerking, tugging on your hair so tightly that you whimpered around his length.

Taeyong withdrew from you sharply, panting for breath and blinking through the tears in his eyes. Fuck, he thought. It felt so good he almost lost his goddamn mind. The edges of his vision blurred.

Swallowing down the last of his load, you got to your feet, grinning at how disheveled he looked. You were tempted to ask him, “How was it?” but you already knew the answer.

Taeyong blushed the moment your eyes met and mumbled, “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“You were perfect,” you flirted, running a hand through your hair. Then, you reached for the orange dildo that started this whole mess and said, “If you don’t mind, me and the creamsicle are gonna bond over this real quick.”

If you didn’t do something about the throbbing ache in your core, you were going to go insane.

Taeyong gawked. Were you really not going to let him reciprocate? “I wanna do it,” he blurted out.

You arched a brow. “Do what?”

“Get you off.”

“How?”

Taeyong, at long last, realized you were toying with him and something inside him snapped. He grabbed you and spun you around, your shoulders against his chest, and started pawing at your body, sneaking his hand into your shorts and then your panties.

And when his fingers found your dripping folds, the lowest growl rumbled in his throat.

“You’re so wet,” Taeyong hissed in your ear. Holy shit. Sucking him dry did that to you? Taeyong was already calculating all the ways he would return the favor a thousand fold.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he palmed your sex, prodding two long fingers into your hole. You reached back and fisted a handful of his hair as you moaned, your walls stretching around the intrusion.

“And tight,” he said lowly, biting down on the base of your neck to keep from moaning. Taeyong sucked in a breath, thinking of how your perfect pussy would wrap around his cock and milk every drop out of him.

You arched into his chest, hips moving on their own. He fingered you languidly, heel of his hand pressing into your clit. “Fuck,” you groaned, grinding into his hand, holding onto his arms desperately.

Taeyong’s breaths were hot and heavy on your neck. With every push of his fingers into your cunt, his dick was getting hard again. He couldn’t resist a heat-seeking thrust, smacking his hips into your ass. He knew you could feel his cock, but you said nothing about it.

Though you were nice enough to bounce your ass against it.

As he fingered you, you slowly but surely fumbled at your clothes until you were naked and Taeyong mirrored you. Skin against skin. Hot and sweaty and intimate.

“I’m close… Tae…,” you whimpered, eyes winched shut.

Taeyong had never heard your voice sound so soft. He was making you feel good and that made him crazed with lust. He squeezed your breast, holding you against him as he played with your nipple, stroking his fingers in your wet pussy.

“Come,” Taeyong said in your ear, driving his digits into your sex faster. The loud squelch each time he pushed in knuckles deep made him so horny for you he couldn’t see straight. Taeyong had never wanted to get someone off this badly.

“Oh, god. Oh, fuck,” you stammered out, going rigid with release. You moaned and shuddered, grappling at his arms, trying to escape as the orgasm made you gasp for air and sent a hard tremble through your body. Taeyong didn’t let go; he trapped you to him, needing to feel your walls pulse around his fingers.

Satisfied, Taeyong finally set you free and you staggered into the dresser, bracing your hands on the edge. The insides of your thighs were slick with release and you pressed them together to soothe the pulsing in your core.

Still catching your breath, you willed yourself to face Taeyong, nervous as to what you would find. One look at the unadulterated lust in his eyes had you reeling. Your gaze fell to his cock, hard and weeping, and you reached for him without a word.

You were so far gone. Your brain went on vacation and your body took over.

Taeyong melted into your arms, letting you lead him over to your bed. There was no thought in his head except how you would feel. He palmed over your breasts, paying close attention to your stiff nipples. You were so soft to the touch that Taeyong couldn’t get enough. He wanted to drag his lips and tongue over every inch of you.

When the backs of your legs met the edge of your bed, you fell back and spread your legs invitingly, tugging Taeyong between your thighs with your hands on his hips. Taeyong stroked his cock in his fist eagerly, gathering your slick on his fingers to coat his dick. You whined with impatience, grasping him at the tip and steering him between your folds.

Taeyong hooked your knees in his elbows and arched his back as he slid inside you like silk, moaning at how you opened up for him, your walls clenching around every inch of his dick. If he didn’t know any better, Taeyong would think he fit inside you a little too good.

“Taeyong,” you sighed, face tense with pleasure. He was so thick and deep in the pit of your stomach, pushing your limits just right. You set your fingertips into his hips and rocked into him, grinding yourself onto his cock. You wanted all of it. You wanted everything he had to give.

“Fuck,” Taeyong hissed, drawing back and thrusting into you, watching himself vanish inside you, your walls fluttering around his length. How he had gone this long without pussy was a mystery. Taeyong swore he’d never felt so good in his life than he did at this moment, buried inside you.

“Don’t stop,” you chanted as he picked up the pace, jaw unhinged. “Please, don’t stop.”

Your headboard slammed against the wall at a merciless rhythm. Taeyong growled at how good you were taking it, especially when you sank your nails into his back and begged him to go harder. His usual self liked things a bit more slow and sensual, but not when the tension was this thick.

He needed to come. And so did you.

You weren’t far from it either. You were still sensitive and aroused from the first orgasm that every thrust of his cock shoved you toward another one.

“Can I finish inside?” Taeyong asked, his voice heavy and labored.

“Y-yes,” you said, nodding eagerly. You reached down and rubbed at your clit, whimpering with sensitivity. “Please make me come first.”

Taeyong smoothed his hands to your thighs and pushed them higher, almost folding you in half. He slowed a little to keep himself from the edge, but smacked his hips into yours hard and rough, arching his strokes to find that sweet spot.

Your face tensed with pleasure and you threw your head back and moaned, fisting the blankets beneath you.

There it is. Taeyong sank his teeth into his bottom lip, driving his cock into that spot, feeling you clench on him, listening to the fucking beautiful sounds you were making pitch higher and higher until you finally came undone beneath him.

The cry that left you was so primal and desperate you barely recognized it. You shook with orgasm, grabbing Taeyong’s arms and twisting away from him as he kept thrusting into your slick cunt.

But the moment you started coming back down from the high, you made sure to tell him, “Fill me up, baby.”

“Oh, fuck!” Taeyong let out a long, pained groan as he emptied his load inside you, shoving himself balls deep in your pussy to make sure not a drop was wasted.

You grunted a little when Taeyong collapsed on top of you, hiding his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around his waist reassuringly, letting him catch his breath as you sank deeper into the mattress beneath his weight.

Taeyong finally sat up on his elbows and peered down at you, tossing the damp hair out of his eyes. “Um…,” he started unsurely. What the hell was he supposed to say after railing his roommate? “Thank you?”

You giggled. “You’re welcome.”

Taeyong’s cheeks flushed crimson. “It was okay I came inside, right?”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Okay,” he said, then his expression changed.

Your brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Taeyong really didn’t want to say anything, but it weighed on his conscience. And given he was inside you, he felt that maybe he could be honest with you. “We just had sex and… we didn’t even kiss once.”

You simpered. He was such a softie. “Do you want to kiss me?” you asked sweetly.

More than anything. Taeyong nodded, fighting a bashful smile.

You slipped your fingers into his hair and tugged him down to you, pressing your lips to his with a tenderness that made his heart spin.

Taeyong crumbled instantly, gathering you in his arms and deepening the kiss.

You grinned against his mouth. Maybe being stuck in quarantine with your roommate wasn’t so bad after all.

Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!

[writingonleaves]

things you never said (things you'll never say to me) - nico hischier

pairing: nico hischier x original female character

warnings: swearing, sadness, angst, not my traditional fluff folks, very little dialogue, kinda a ramble disguised into a piece lol, google translated german, projection?? is that a valid warning

inspired by + title: "things i wish you said" by sabrina carpenter

word count: 2.8k

author's note: got into my feels randomly for this (incredible) song and decided to write something with it. also a part of @wyattjohnston 's lowkey loverfest 2k24!! hope you all enjoy this melancholy ride and please let me know what you think <3

*****

Nico Hischier has always been a leader. 

You ask anyone in Naters or Bern who knew him growing up and they would say the same thing — he’s a polite, young boy with so much talent and a sensible mind. He may be the youngest of three, but everyone’s always turned to Nico for guidance. With a calming voice paired with a warm smile, it’s rare for Nico to steer anyone wrong. 

And he sees it in himself too. Even when he was a rookie, when the C stitched into his jersey was only a blurred dream, he still felt like he had to lead by example. No one was expecting that of him, he knows that now, but he was a first overall pick, the weight of a losing team’s hopes on his shoulders. If he crumbled, those supporters’ hopes fell with him. His own hope would fall with him. 

It took a few years, a pandemic, another first overall pick, a shit ton of roster changes, a new coach and other things to walk into a locker room that wasn’t used to losing. And Nico prides himself as being a leader in that transition. C on his jersey or not, he would’ve done it. Because he doesn’t know how not to.

Leanna always said he didn’t know how to turn it off. 

When Nico had first met Leanna Spritz, it honestly was one of the worst first impressions he’s ever given. It was the morning after a brutal 6-1 loss against the fucking Flyers. The final score itself was bad, but the fact that it was against the Flyers rubbed more salt into the wound. He knew Lindy was gonna bag skate them all to hell and back the morning after and he just really wanted his cappuccino before to take away some of the bitterness. 

All up in his head, he had crashed literally into Leanna. Before they both could comprehend, her cold brew had spilled. Somehow, Nico got away with an unnoticeable splash on his hoodie and no spillage from his own drink. But Leanna wasn’t so lucky. Her brown sweater wasn’t dark enough to hide the fact that half of her cold brew was on it while the other spilled to the ground. 

“Fuck,” Nico had exclaimed, eyes widening and darting between her now coffee stained sweater, the empty cup on the ground and her red hair that only glistened with the sun rays. “Shit! I am so sorry. That’s totally my fault.”

Leanna had waved him away with a small chuckle as she dug into her purse for stray napkins. Far too nice for someone who now had coffee all over them because of him. “It’s okay. Mistakes happen.”

Nico looked at his watch and grimaced. Shit. He was going to be late to practice. And that would be even worse than usual with their horrible performance the night before. “Listen. I really want to buy you a coffee to make up for my clumsiness, but I’m gonna be late to work and-”

Leanna had nodded in understanding, lips quirked up. “Don’t worry about it. Promise. Go. Don’t be late for work.”

He had been so frazzled that all he remembered doing was blurting out another apology before practically running away, partially from embarrassment but also because he really did have to go. 

A week later, Nico went back to the coffee shop. In the back of his mind was the redhead who he still owed a coffee to. But Nico’s also realistic and he knew he’d probably never see her again. 

While he was patiently waiting in the long line, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He braced himself to interact with a fan, but turned around and was pleasantly surprised by who he did see. 

“I thought that was you,” she had said, pink beanie over her hair and a twinkle in her eye. “Not going to spill coffee again on me, are you? I’m wearing white today.”

Nico swallowed before his brain turned back on and he grinned. “Good eye. And no. I promise I’ll be less clumsy today. And I’m less in a rush.” They were next in line to order and he ordered first before turning to her. She had tried to deny him but he just raised an eyebrow until she gave the barista her order. 

“I’m really sorry again,” Nico said as they had shuffled out of line to wait for their drinks. “I hope the sweater didn’t stain.”

Leanna waved him off with her bright smile. “That sweater has been through too much for some coffee to ruin it. You don’t need to worry, Captain.”

Nico had been shocked that she knew who he was, which, in hindsight, is dumb. He’s not Jack, but he gets recognized a good amount around New Jersey still.

He cleared his throat. “Nico is fine.”

She smiled. “Okay, Nico. Well, I’m Leanna. Thank you for paying for my coffee. You didn’t have to, by the way, especially to clear your conscience.”

“That’s not why-well, it is. But I also, uh, are you in a rush?”

Nico remembers that day so well still, his English failing him despite living in North America for over five years as he basically asked Leanna on their first date right there and then. He remembers being thankful that she took some pity on him with her sweet smile and led them to a table. He probably would’ve stood there stuttering like a fool if she didn’t cut in.

“Nico?”

Nico blinks himself out of his memories as Jack walks into his living room. Sometimes he questions if he should’ve given Jack a key. 

“Hey. What’s up?”

“We have skate,” Jack gives him a look. “Dude, take a shower. Quickly. Or we’ll be late.”

“Right,” Nico says, stumbling over to the shower. As the water’s warming up, his eyes stop at a purple bottle tucked in the corner of the sink. Hair oil. Leanna always joked that she couldn’t live without it. His hands twitch to reach for the bottle just so he can smell the grapefruit scent, but he forces himself into the shower instead. 

He can hear Nina’s voice so clearly. Throw it away, she’d say in their mother-tongue that realistically Nico will never not be fluent in but sometimes is scared will slip away. Nina liked Leanna a lot, actually, the one time they met when she came to Jersey to visit last year. But Nina is also Nico’s sister, and cursed her name many times when Nico called her crying, waking her up in the middle of the night. She had stayed on the phone with him for three hours, letting him cry.

He forces himself to take a shower. To wake up a bit and shift his focus to the upcoming skate and game tonight. They’re playing the Rangers, which is just always a grind. He needs to be all in.

Nico keeps to himself while getting ready for practice, putting on his gear quietly while his teammates chatter about something or another around him. He speaks quickly to the equipment team about his skates and smiles in thanks. He catches a whiff of the perfume of their head of PR as she walks past in the hallway, and Nico swallows. 

Realistically, he knows it’s not the same one. But it’s floral and smells like jasmine, so it might as well be. 

As he’s driving home, he has the radio down low. He was never the one to fuss about putting his music on in the car. Because the world just works like that, a song that he doesn’t know the title to comes on. He hums along, because Leanna always played this song.

Instinctively, his fingers twitch to reach out to someone who won’t ever be in his passenger seat ever again. He can hear her voice, her thigh under his palm. It’s not safe to drive with one hand, she’d say with an amused laugh interlaced in her voice. He would always roll his eyes before giving her thigh a squeeze and keeping his hand there for the majority of their journey. 

He remembers that sentence bringing him comfort when they were driving to her sister’s house in upstate New York. He was scared shitless to meet her whole family for the first time to celebrate her cousin’s birthday. It was below freezing point outside, but his hands were so clammy that one would’ve thought it was summer. 

Leanna had put her hand in his hair at the nape of his neck. He had immediately calmed down. 

He swears if he focuses hard enough he can still smell the green tea shampoo Leanna used. It was always interesting to him, because the first thing he would think of when he saw her flaming red hair wasn’t green tea. It deserved something more bold attached to it. Like orange. Or vanilla. Or coconut.

Because Leanna was exactly that. Bold. Bright. Crashing into the lives of everyone in her path with her bright smile, loud laughter and a personality that sucked you in. 

Nico stops at a red light and absentmindedly looks to the right. His breath catches at the sight of a woman walking a beagle. Leanna always said that once she was more settled down, a beagle was the kind of dog she wanted to get, just like the dog she had by her side throughout her whole childhood. 

At one point, Nico had thought she meant settling down in Jersey. Never did she give the indication while they were together that she had meant London. 

He couldn’t force himself to unfollow Leanna on Instagram after the break-up. He catches himself way too often seeing if she still follows him. She does. And she even likes his posts most of the time. He checks.

Nico shouldn’t be surprised. Even though she cried so much when they broke up and he couldn’t handle it, through tears, she wished him nothing but the best. Even as she was actively breaking his heart.

As he pulls into the parking garage for his apartment complex, he kills the engine and just sits there. He should be focusing on the game tonight. Focusing on how they need to stop taking stupid penalties. Focusing on their positioning in the offensive zone. 

You think too much, honey. Leanna would say, kissing his forehead twice, something she started doing to calm him down. You just need to play hockey. Least that’s what you always tell me. Everything else will follow. 

And he would never admit it out loud — especially to Jonas — but he still repeats those words in his head. He’s not sure if it works, but it’s like a mantra. A routine. And hockey players know more than anyone how important routines are and how difficult they are to change. 

It’s been two months and three days. It’s annoying that Nico can still hear her voice in his head, clear as day. He hopes one day he’lll never be able to remember. But he also dreads the day that he’ll forget what she sounds like. 

He walks up into his apartment and pours out a glass of water, downing it in one go. The sun’s out for the first time in two weeks, and a small smile spills on his lips as he admires the sunlight through his glass windows. His eyes shift to a spot on one of the tables by the window on the right, where it seems like something is shining. His curiosity takes over and he walks over, a reminder popping into his brain that he needs to dust his apartment. Why does dust accumulate so quickly anyways? 

His stomach drops. One of her combs placed nonchalantly behind one of his plants. The shine is coming from the light hitting the red hair caught between the bristles. 

What the fuck?

Nico closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before hastily grabbing the comb and tossing it into the trash. She never officially moved in with him, but she was around the apartment enough to leave some things lying around here and there. He thought he had thrown everything out. Or more accurately, he trusted Jesper, Timo and Jack to do it for him during a particularly bad Saturday afternoon two weeks after everything fell to shit. 

He checks the time and sighs. He needs to nap or else everything will be thrown off. Checking his phone to make sure no one needs him, he plugs it in to charge by his bedside, ignoring a text from Nina he’ll answer when he wakes up.

It’s a text she sends a few times a week when she senses that her younger brother’s having a harder day. From almost 4,000 miles, she still knows. Nico’s always loved his sister, but he’s never felt more grateful to have her as he has in these last few months. 

eins zu zehn?? ❤️

One to ten, it translates to. On a scale of one to ten, how shitty or good are you feeling about it today? 

Nico sighs, responds back with a 6, and wills his mind to rest. 

Somehow, he wakes up decently well rested to his alarm. He stays in bed a few extra minutes, getting his mindset ready for gametime. He chooses to wear the gray three piece suit tonight. One of his more fancier fits. It is the Rangers, after all. 

It was Leanna’s favorite suit of his. She always joked he “ruined the look” when he slapped on his beloved white beanie. I love your hair. I wish you’d show it off more, she’d say.

He digs out the beanie from his clean laundry. 

He always leaves an hour or so to himself before he has to go to the rink. He usually spends it tidying up or doing things around his place to clear his head so he can come back after the game and just crash. 

Today, he replays the breakup in his mind. Or what he remembers of it, since he blocked a lot of it out. 

When you picture your future, do you see me in it at all? He had choked out, holding Leanna’s hands in his for what was the last time. 

It hadn’t helped that she had also been crying as she said her next words. Neeks, baby. It’s not you, it’s me. And I hate that I’m pulling that out, but it’s true. Maybe this isn’t the right time for us. 

Why can’t it be? Nico had said. Why can’t we make it work?

Maybe in the future, if things are different. She had said, biting her trembling lip. But even then, Nico knew they were empty promises. She’s too stubborn of a person to not bend the world her way. She just doesn’t want Nico to be a part of that world.

It’s not fair, he knows that realistically, but oftentimes he wonders if she ever loved him at all. That thought especially rode his mind after he saw her post a story on Instagram earlier last week. It was clearly a soft launch, with her hand in the hand of some faceless guy over dinner. Nico ended up scoring two goals that night out of sheer adrenaline and anger. 

Because all he’s ever wanted was for Leanna Spritz to be happy. Even now. Even after all of this. Even if it’s not with him. 

But fuck, she’s clearly moving on. Why can’t he?

He blinks, collapsing on his couch in the living room and staring at the wall. The last time he heard from her was a month ago, when he had gone down after a rough hit during a game against Minnesota. He ended up only being out for the next two games, but the hit hadn’t been pretty. His chest had taken the brunt of the damage. Everyone, including him, had been relieved that it wasn't more serious.

While he was getting checked out by the trainers the next morning, his phone had buzzed and he almost threw up. 

Leanna Spritz✨

I saw the hit last night. Hope you’re okay. Listen to the trainers. 

Nico was angry. What right did she have to text him that? 

But then, he just felt sad. That bottomless pit in his stomach opened up. He felt nothing but emptiness. 

His phone buzzes, this time with a text from Timo, and Nico takes a deep breath. It’s game time. No more crying over his ex-girlfriend. 

As he’s sliding on his beanie in the bathroom, he catches sight of the hair oil again. He picks it up, smells it, before throwing it in the trash. It lands on the bottom of the can with a final thud. He clicks all the lights off, makes sure he has everything he needs, grabs his key off the hook and shuts the door. 

Two hours later, everyone’s getting hyped up. He gives a mini impromptu speech, Jack slaps his back way too hard and Nico smiles, dimples and all.

He takes a deep breath before his blades touch the ice.

[t0ast-ghost]

S3 EP21 (The Cloud Minders) oookay I genuinely don’t know what to think of that title

Anyway:

- OMG Kirk actually records his diaries on the bridge that’s so funny

- The chair swivelled so hard when Kirk got out of it that he had to go back to steady it with his hand

- The got roped into this one… (you see cause there’s a rope. It’s funny I promise)

- hi Margaret, I see you’re back (referring to the fact that Margaret Armen wrote this one)

- KICK !

- “I have never before met a Vulcan, sir.” “Nor I a work of art, madam.” I’d melt personally

- I have a feeling the disrupters have very reasonable demands

- WHAT THE FUCK THAT GUY JUST JUMPED

- Kirk sleeping while Spock internally monologues contemplates. Relationship goals.

- OKAY but the back of Droxine’s dress is so fucking cool. Peacock aesthetic.

- OKAY but like this other lady’s dress tho. The deeper blue. (Self note: draw Spock and McCoy in the dresses)

- ICKY ICK NO KIRK NO

- “You only take a mate once every seven years.” Yeah but he’s married to the doctor and captain aboard the ship

- Droxine wants him so bad goddamn

- “Extreme feminine beauty… is always… disturbing… madam.” “Spock!” As soon as Kirk calls him he’s outta there.

- Vanna is in the right here. Droxine is awful.

- This is such a good episode omg

- it’s showing how rich people delude themselves and justify having lower classes by reducing people to functions and workers.

- FLASHING LIVHTS HOLY HELL (careful showing this to your photosensitive friends)

- Is Kirk going to get put in the torture machine this episode? (Edit: no)

- Spock, Droxine is a rich idiot who is very used to justifying her actions with self inflicted ignorance, DO NOT PERSUE HER

- RAHHH WE LOVE VANNA

- hiii McCoy hiiiiiiiii

- no fuck off mccoy fuck off doesn’t matter if they’re slightly intellectually ‘inferior’ they still deserve rights and they’re still obviously intelligent life

- oh okay the gas is causing slight brain damage but still. The disrupters are in the right. And they’re gonna help them, yay!

- The Advisor said “erect” lol

- Kirk, obviously the Advisor knows that in order to stay in power he needs the Troglytes to stay confused, disorganized, and separate from their part of society… he’s doing this ON PURPOSE

- Kirk, go down there and punch the Advisor, please

- “Captain, if you are apprehended deliberately violating the High Advisor’s orders, he will be within his rights to have you executed if he chooses.” “If you’re about to suggest that you contact Vanna, the answer is negative, Spock. That goes for you too, Bones.” Bones so readily goes to suggest himself but is immediately shut down. Kirk knows their bullshit

- “Hours can be centuries, just as words can be lies.” That goes so hard wtf

- So why doesn’t Kirk beam out of there with her and directly to the caves? Well there wasn’t any trouble anyway but whatever

- LMAO the mask is so silly omg omg

- What the fuck. With his bare hands? (Edit: I’m talking about mining rocks. Promise.)

- Why did he cause a cave in? Omg he’s an idiot.

- Kirk is so done with these idiots. He’s just gonna put them in a cave and let the gasses get them

- Kirk’s not doing well… McCoy and Spock are very worried about him

- HE KICKED ONE OF THE MORTAE OUT OF HIS HANDS

- Kirk’s ass I really like Kirk’s fighting style, lots of kicks and a little bit of whacking

- “I don’t like filters or even masks. I like the word ‘protector’ much better.” Did some Trekkie’s call masks this during the pandemic?

- KIRK DO NOT KISS HER

(He doesn’t but the vibes were terrible)

Masterpost

Teleplay by Margaret Armen

Story by David Gerrold & Oliver Crawford

[maxybabyy]

Sequel to this maxiel ‘too hot to handle’ au (soft cw for COVID mention and implied unsafe travelling)

Daniel has been living in Max’s London apartment for four months when Max signs on as a Red Bull affiliate sim racer. And Daniel is so happy for him, of course he is. With his newfound celebrity status back in the Netherlands and now this, Max is free to do whatever the hell he wants. But Daniel. Daniel hasn’t really been doing much since ‘too hot to handle’ wrapped up. He does the the odd appearance at events, started up a cameo account, but with Max’s recent breakout, he starts to feel a bit lost, envious that he isn’t getting the same opportunities.

So when he’s offered a spot on the newest season of ‘The Circle’, he accepts.

Max freaks out when he tells him. They’re in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, and if Daniel leaves now, he won’t get back into the country, won’t come back. It causes the biggest fight they’ve ever had.

Max doesn’t yell, but it’s a hard conversation to have, and when Max leaves in frustration, Daniel doesn’t know what to do with himself. Because he has to leave, he can’t not go. He’s in his fucking thirties, and for an influencer like him, that’s pretty much ancient.

Max drives him to the airport, kisses him too wet and tearful. He tells Daniel that he loves him, begs him not to go, and when Daniel doesn’t, turns on his heels and leaves.

Quarantining for the show is tough.

Before Max, Daniel lived on his own in LA, but somehow, the last year has made him unable to be alone. Max still texts him, pictures of the cats, his set-up at the Red Bull facilities, his latest attempt at culinary disaster, but they don’t call.

To make matters worse, Daniel doesn’t win the show. His alliances are quick to get picked apart, and while Jesse – a gorgeous model from Austin, Texas – keeps flirting with him, it doesn’t feel right to flirt back even though he and Max aren’t together anymore. In the end, they call him a catfish and vote him out – a shitty end to an even shittier situation.

He’s offered some gigs around LA, nothing huge but enough to get him on the right lists. And then Netflix approaches him again, this time with their latest dating show – ‘Perfect match’.

He doesn’t say yes right away, knows the implications it will have for his and Max’s relationship, how obvious it will become that they’ve broken up. But like, Daniel isn’t looking for love – already knows where it is, where it was – this is just something that he has to do if he wants to stay relevant.

When you've been on one dating show, you’ve been on them all, Daniel reckons. The cast reminds him too much of the people they met on ‘Too Hot to Handle’ with the added bonus of inflated egos. Even the villa looks the same too, nice but bland with all cultural influence stripped away.

At the end of the first night, he matches with Gabby, a marketing lead from Seattle who has three brothers and loves to surf. She’s sweet and very pretty, touches his arm with her tiny hand when he makes her laugh, and Daniel thinks he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the weeks getting to know her.

They’re hanging out by the pool, day drinking and chatting. It’s freeing in a way Daniel hasn’t felt since ‘too hot to handle’, since before COVID hit. He loved hanging with Max, with the cats in their apartment and late-night Zoom sessions with Blake and Scotty. But it’s different like this, being around people. 

He’s only loosely paying attention when the conversation picks up, “Gabby, you were on ‘Love is blind’, right?” Amy, from a season of ‘The Circle’ before Daniel’s, asks. “So you’re like ready for the real deal, huh? Marriage and all.”

“I mean, that’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?” Gabby says and laughs. “To find our perfect match of course.” Her hand has found its way to Daniel’s leg, slim fingers loose around his ankle, and Daniel doesn’t think, he can’t –

He forces himself to breathe, to laugh along with the crowd and not jerk his leg out of her grip. He waits another few minutes – at least one, it has to be – before he gets up to get another drink. If he lets himself be pulled into a game of beer pong inside, then no one has to know.

With his mind back in the game, Daniel and Gabby win the second challenge of the show and have to send two people off on dates. Daniel is still stuck on the hot peppers he had to eat when Gabby says, “Oh, this guy is cute, in like. An odd sort of way.”

Her nose crinkles when Daniel looks over, laughs at the way it transforms her entire face. “I don’t think that’s a –“ he starts to say when his mouth suddenly slams shut. Because the guy that she’s pointing to, this odd but beautiful creature is Max. His Max. Max Verstappen who is supposed to be back in the UK, test driving fucking Formula One cars.

They don’t pick Max, settles on some guy from a show Daniel hasn’t watched. But it doesn’t matter in the end; Max checks in two challenges later, on the heels of a date with another ‘too hot to handle’ contestant.

They don’t talk.

Max doesn’t approach him, doesn’t even look at him as his date introduces him to the rest of the house. Daniel wouldn’t even know where to start, so he doesn’t. Their season is still new enough that a lot of the people haven’t watched it, don’t know how big of a deal it is that Max isn’t glued to his side.

Gabby kisses his cheek, says, “I’m going to bed, don’t be too late, okay?” and Daniel nods, smiles and takes another sip of his beer, “I’ll be right up, yeah?”

Max isn’t around, but Daniel cannot imagine he’s matched with anyone here, and maybe that’s for the best too. He’ll be sent home, and maybe – maybe then when they’re both back in London, they can talk.

He’s halfway up the stairs when there’s a shout from one of the rooms, the one he’s been living in with Gabby, so he speeds up, takes the stairs two steps of the time until he’s out of breath and leaning against the door frame.

Max is staring at him from the corner of the room, and he looks fucking pissed. Pissed that he had to come all the way over here to get Daniel home, pissed that Daniel agreed to yet another dating show to find his fucking ‘perfect match’ when Max is right here waiting for him.

Daniel doesn’t know what to say. Max still hasn’t said a word to him, staring at him like he’s livid, but a producer is hovering awkwardly around in case it gets violet.

The producer is about to pull Max away when Daniel turns to Gabby and tells her that he chooses Max.

Everyone but Max is stunned. The poor woman, who just wanted to go to sleep, reaches for his hand, tells him softly: “That’s not how this works, Dan. It’s the girls choosing tonight. This is my room, you know this.” Gabby actually genuinely likes him, knows if she doesn’t choose him tonight, they will have to send him home.

But Daniel can’t not choose Max, so he lets himself be pulled from the room, Max’s hand firm on his wrist as they make it down the stairs. The producer doesn’t know what to do with them either, so they point them in the direction of the couch and tell them they’ll figure it out in the morning.

They aren’t sent home.

Max is still pissed, but he is of course Daniel’s perfect match, knows him better than most of these people even know themselves, so they crush all the compatibility challenges. (“This is of course Daniel’s tweet.” “’Tripping balls.’ Always Daniel will say this.” “These emojis are Daniel’s also.”)

They still don’t talk. Daniel is getting increasingly skittish because he doesn’t know where they stand, or how to act around Max.

Then they lose a challenge.

The host tells them they’re playing a version of Seven Minutes in Heaven, that they all have to kiss each other and rate each other’s kisses and the couple with the highest aggregated score will win. Daniel is too distracted to kiss anyone, barely shakes through it when it’s finally his and Max’s turn – their eyes are covered, but Daniel would know him blind, by the way he tastes and the shape of his lips – the worst kiss they’ve ever shared, and it’s still better than any of the other people Daniel’s kissed. Max’s score was equally terrible, reflected only by the fact that he had to be judged by straight guys.

With Maxiel’s streak of winning everything they touch, the couple sees it as their opportunity to split them up, so they send Max off on a date with someone new.

And Daniel’s not. He isn’t worried. Max has made it clear that he is Daniel’s match. He doesn’t watch reality television, and this human centipede of washed-up influencers won’t affect him. Except when Max gets back, it isn’t some ‘Ultimatum’ reject or a celebrity realtor on his arm.

As seen on some Monaco-based dating show, but intimately more known by the two for his presence on ‘Drive to Survive’ because of his brother, Charles looks absolutely enamoured with Max as they walk through the house together.

Max, who’s been starved for any conversation that wasn’t about who could name-drop the biggest celebrity, glues himself to Charles’ side and doesn’t let go.

He still comes back to Daniel’s bed at night, and suddenly Daniel cannot wait any longer. “What are you even doing, Maxy?” He asks, head held in frustrated hands. “Why are you here? Why are you – what are you doing flirting with Charles Leclerc? This has to be the pettiest – “

“This is of course what you want, no?” Max says, too calm for the fucking mood in the room. “Always you want to win, and this I can do.”

“Max, what?” Daniel says, “I don’t just want to win. That’s not –“

“Because if you’re here to find your perfect match, but did not tell me, there is of course no reason I’m here also.”

Daniel is not about to have an emotional breakdown on television (his mum and sister watch everything he does, and they don’t need to see him cry), so he drags Max to a dead spot one of the other matches had found looking for hook-up spots.

Max is still pissed but he listens to Daniel explain how he’d felt back then, lost in their relationship and envious of the offers Max had gotten, how: “I’m getting old, Maxy.”

“You’re not old,” Max says, quick and indignant, natural in his defence of Daniel.

“I am, Maxy.” He says, laughs in a way that’s supposed to be fun and cute, but must drip of self-deprecation. “I’m the oldest one here, and soon they won’t want me anymore. Then what am I supposed to do?”

Max has given little thought to Daniel’s crippling fear of getting older because he of course wants Daniel always, will always think he is handsome. He also doesn’t understand Daniel’s obsession with being famous – an influencer, as the fucking Netflix producer had called him when he contacted him to say Daniel was coming on the show, and would he like to come too? –  but he knows Daniel loves what he does, and feeling like he’s failing at that must be terrible.

“Always you should tell me this,” Max says softly, reaches for him until Daniel falls into him. “If it was this important to you, then of course I will support you.”

Daniel breathes out, lets the last of his tension bleed from his body. “I know, Maxy. I was just, I don’t know. Maybe I was embarrassed? You had all this going for you, and I was just at home playing with the cats.”

“Never you should feel like this, Daniel.” Max says and hugs him tighter. “I am so proud of you, and if this is what you want, then you should have it always.”

“While I was in LA, after I did ‘the circle’, someone told me they might have a job for me. Like a pilot season or some shit,” Daniel tells him softly, rests his head on Max’s chest to listen to his heart beating. “It would be out in Austin, but like, it should only be a month, maybe two. But I thought like, maybe if it made sense with Red Bull, you could come with me?”

“Of course, Daniel.” Max is quick to say. “This long-distance thing, I think, is not for us. Always I want to be with you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Daniel says and kisses Max, long and deep just like that first time. “Love you, Maxy.”

“I love you too, Daniel.” Max says, kisses him again before he stands up. “Now, let’s go so we can win this show also.”

[mueritos]

As someone who’s been through multiple therapists and psychs, you’re super not wrong about these people bringing their biases to the table. I’m lucky enough that I

1. Was an older teenager

2. Had friends who had had decent mental health help already

3. Already kinda suspected the shapes of what was “wrong with me” and

4. Had an innate sense of “no that seems like bullshit” before I went in with these people.

The first therapist I ever saw met me as a 17 year old alt girl, and when I tried to talk to her about thinking I had anxiety issues she cut me off before I was done explaining and told me I was self diagnosing, that was causing my problem, and we wouldn’t “entertain THAT” any further.

The second therapist I ever saw met me as a 18 year old trans guy, pre-everything, during the pandemic. She listened, but she had no experience with the trans community and I had to teach her everything about anything I wanted to talk about with regards to that. She was nice, but she couldn’t help me. She didn’t know how.

The third therapist I ever saw met me as a 21 year old young man. She figured I had everything sorted out already. I didn’t. She never tried to change her mind or delve deeper. At this point I couldn’t afford to waste my time, so I asked to be recommended to a psych and she said sure. After that we didn’t talk.

The first psych I went to was very kind, and absolutely did not do his due diligence. I came in with a shiny recommendation from a therapist (that he didn’t verify), so he all but handed me the medication with no explanation and I only ever spoke to him over the phone after that. It was a low barrier to entry but the medication wasn’t right and I didn’t know I had other options. He made it seem like I didn’t.

The psych I’m seeing now put me on a medication that reacted poorly with my inhaler because she didn’t cross check if they would be any drug interactions. I came back and asked for a different medication. She was going to put me on a different one, and then I asked her to check if there were any interactions with this one. Turns out there were severe ones. I ended up going with a different medication, it seems to be working. It would probably work better with help from a therapist, but I don’t have the time or money for that right now. And quite frankly I’m tired of trying to convince people to help me when I have to explain what I think is wrong with me for them to listen. Only for them to decide that I’ve already figured it all out and they don’t need to try.

So uh. Yeah. Lots and lots of stories from me and my friends about clinicians of all age and experience ranges that go from horror stories to just disappointing and unhelpful. Some of these people had been practicing for 20-30 years and they STILL weren’t any better at empathy or not being horribly biased.

first of all holy shit it really fucking sucks you had to go through all of these terrible experiences while accessing care you deserve and need. i'm not surprised these terrible interactions happened, and I can't even be disappointed considering the bar of standards is in hell. The "better" experiences a lot of folks have with clinicians align with your second therapist. They are clinicians who just genuinely have no worldview outside of their own, but are receptive to new information...they just have no drive to learn how to apply new frameworks of ways of thinking to expand their worldview and guide their clients. The worst is literal malpractice, ableism, and violence against clients.

a lot of people who go into the mental health field don't actually have the skills related to active listening, empathy, or curiosity based out of humanity. I say this to a lot of people in the social work program, but social work is the same pipeline as mean girls who go into nursing--it's just full of the girls who were not smart enough to go into nursing that decide to go into social work. Same breed of mean girl seeking power over others, just different contexts of public service.

the only hope i have is in the new generations of mental health clinicians who are BIPOC/queer, anti-carceral, disabled themselves, and who are mentally ill as well. I feel more solidarity with my neurodivergent peers in my program who can barely finish an assignment on time than I do with the white women who have never experience hardship in their lives. Not to say neither of these people can't experience easy or hard times in their lives but man....seeing the roadblocks in some of these people's worldviews, empathy, or conceptualizations of other people's struggles is fucked up.

the mental health field is just another medicalized, over-policed, and racist institution that wants to shove people back into the workforce ASAP. we are in hell!! but just know there ARE people and groups and orgs out there that are dedicated to radical work and will name all the hypocrisy, pain, and oppression that exists in working in this field.

thank you tho for sharing your experience and input. I can only hope that your experiences moving forward are positive and liberating for you <3

[butyou-callmewhenyourebored]

Matty Healy Blurb

Author's Note: This was the ending that I mentioned would be the blurb with my last imagine. Just one Matty Healy being cute and not being able to contain his love for you during an interview! Enjoy! I'm about to enter Ross territory, see you all on the other side! x

Warnings: Swearing if you all need that!

Matty Imagine

1.4K Words

Whilst the boys were in between records and tours; you and Matty had managed to get away with being together without your relationship being sniffed out by the fans. Your presence in their world as a whole had seemed to have gone undetected, this was probably due to the nature of the pandemic and being locked in your homes. But upon reflection was the best thing that could have happened to you both. It meant you could reacquaint yourselves without your every move being watched by the world.

I think the band appreciated the fact you weren’t in the industry because it came with no drama. George claimed the fact you could fight your way out of anything due to your job gave you the level headedness that came with dating someone like Matty. “Sometimes he needs putting in his place!”  You believe the words out of George’s mouth.

But now the boys were gearing up to to release their fifth record Being Funny in a Funny Language and Matty was doing more and more interviews and you were all left in the position of ‘what the fuck is going to say today?’ But that was the fun of being apart of his life. No day was the same as the last.

You were at work in an important meeting when your phone kept buzzing at the opposite side of your desk. Apologising to your client, you turned your phone on silent and threw it in your draw. Out of sight, out of mind. Whatever it was could wait until you had finished work or the very least once everything regarding your current client was done.

When you finally pulled your phone out of your desk drawer to order lunch to your office, you saw the group chat with the band going off, you also had messages from Ross, Carly and  Matty. What the absolute flying fuck was happening that they were all sending messages at the same time.

Opening Carly’s message first. ‘Your world is going to change in the blink of an eye babe. I’m here whenever you need someone x’ Your eyebrows furrowed as you opened the screenshot and caught sight of the headline.

‘MATTY HEALY’S ZANE LOWE INTERVIEW GOES VIRAL AFTER SINGER CONFESSES HIS NEW RECORD IS ABOUT HIS NEW GIRLFRIEND. OR SHOULD WE SAY OLD GIRLFRIEND!’

What the fuck! You hadn’t discussed going public per say and you didn’t know if you had it in you to open his messages at the moment. So you bypassed the multiple messages in the group chat and opened Ross’ first. ‘No filter Healy strikes again! Don’t go online yet love. Just let it die down before you try navigate that shit. Trust me. Text me if you need me for anything x’

Fucking hell, if Ross the least social member of the band is advising you to not go online, that meant the fans were going absolutely mental. Their rockstar had become unavailable and that meant I was public enemy number one. ‘Is it socially acceptable to have a glass of wine at 1pm on a Tuesday afternoon whilst at work? Asking for a friend? X’ You replied to him before finally opening your boyfriend’s messages.

'I’m so sorry baby!’ 

‘You know what I’m like, I have no filter when I’m excited about stuff!

And Zane pointed out how happy this new record was and I just…'

'I want to shout from the rooftop how much I love you’

‘Because I do. I love you so fucking much!’

‘I also may have told him all of our best loved songs are about you.’

‘Fuck! I know I overshared. Please don’t hate me xxxxx.’

You furrowed your eyebrows at the last couple of messages. What was he on about? Yeah sure, you had figured out the wedding in Menswear was about the wedding you both met at and If You’re too Shy was about when he’d call you every night whilst on the 2019 US tour. So what did that even mean? All our best loved songs are about you/?

Texting Carly back, you thanked her for looking out for you and asked if she knew the time stamp for when all of this went down. When you got your response, you opened up YouTube on your laptop and skipped straight to this so called viral moment.

“I must say this new record, there are a lot of love songs on here. You seem happy. Are you happy?”  Zane asked, a warm smile etched on his face as they sat in a cafe you had ventured to many a time whilst you lived up North.

“I am mate. Never been happier!”  He grinned back at the radio host.

“They’re all about your girl, yeah?”

“They are.” Matty had the audacity to look shy as he confirmed it. “This new record is basically my love letter to her. I’m in Love with You, Happiness, Oh Caroline, All I need to Hear, When We Are Together… About you.” He gestured to Zane when he remembered. “She’s the love of my life. My muse.” He shrugged casually like that wasn’t heart tuggingly cute.

“Now you mentioned previously that About You was almost a continuation of your hit Robbers. Surely they’re not the about the same person?”

“It is actually!” Matty laughed at Zane’s shocked face. “Funny you say that and she’s going to kill me when she hears this because I’ve never actually told her this but almost all of the band’s most loved songs are about her. Robbers, The City, Menswear, Somebody Else, If You’re too Shy. They’re all about my girl.”

You paused the video for a moment, your eyes glossing over as you tried to process this information. The City made sense buthe’d had girls since you, girls he was with longer than you that you were positive Somebody Else was about. There had to be, there were years between when he would have wrote that and when you broke up. You’d had never made that connection but your composure was quickly diminishing as the tears finally slipped down your cheeks. Your entire will power being tested so you didn’t sob loudly in your office as you thought about how heartbroken Matty really was over you, that it hurt him just as much as it did you.

But Robbers. When the boys finally released their long awaited (in your eyes anyway) self titled debut album. Even though it hurt to know you’d never see them again to congratulate them, how little did you know. When you heard Robbers for the first time, yeah it was beautiful but when the video came out, you just assumed it was about the characters of True Romance and his love for the cult classic. Not once did you put two and two together and realise it was about your rapidly failing relationship.

When you finally had the courage, you pressed play again.

“Shit man! Robbers and About You, really are the same girl? And Somebody Else, damn! She most be one special lady!”

“Yeah, she is! We dated before the band. You know me, love me some drugs and we used to fight about it all the time. Then I didn’t see her for seven years and she went on to bigger and better things. She’s a hot shot lawyer like the smartest person I know. Smarter than me and the band put together! But yeah, I thought about her a lot during our time apart and then fate brought us together again. Or at least Hann did, he bumped into her as we were on the way to an event back in 2019. I don’t think I’ve ever been speechless mate but I knew. I knew that I wanted her back if my life depended on it the moment I clapped eyes on her again. Eighteen months later, she’s still letting me love her and you’re getting our best record yet! So you’re welcome!” He finished with a giggle.

You paused the video again. A shaky breath leaving you as you tried to get oxygen back in your lungs, the temptation to just cry at how much you fucking loved this man. This completely ridiculous, irritatingly talented man. You could sit here and be mad about it but what’s the point. It’s not his fault, anything negative that finds its way to you wasn’t on him, but the person sat behind the keyboard and with that knowledge settling you knew you couldn’t ever be mad for sharing that he loved you with his mate.

You finally text him back.

‘You are the biggest pain in my ass Healy! You’re lucky you’re cute!’

‘I love you so fucking much!’

‘But we are definitely talking about Robbers and Somebody Else when I’m home!’

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Random anon here, we’ll to those who are mad at Chris, let me ask you all, what should he have done?

It’s easy to say not gotten into This mess, duh, but he’s in it and deep in it.

It’s easy on the outside looking in to say just leave but umm like the marketing anon stated….it’s a business and one thing you don’t fuck with is people’s money especially those with more power and influence than you.

See I’m not making any excuses for Chris but I see people ragging on him but never stopping to realize we don’t have the full scope of this, huge missing pieces are left out and many are inserting their opinions and speculation as facts.

Be mad sure, but had Chris said no who’s to say this man wouldn’t have ended up blacklisted, lost everything he’s worked for etc. also he’s human and the pandemic scared at lot of people, even Scott stated Chris was worried about money during a podcast in 2020, Scott laughed but I never forgot that. Pr is easy money I’m sure. Things start out looking simple and then go left, again it’s easy to say well he would have said no, at least he’d had his integrity and morals, okay…..but if he ends up on a where are they now and homeless, severe drug addiction or mental issues due to losing everything then what.

My point is we don’t know shit and it’s easy to act like we do. Chris isn’t an idiot so I assume there’s more to this and he’s stuck because no way in hell things would be playing out the way they have nor would he be looking like a shell of his former self if he had power to end this or if this were real.

He’s human, be mad but don’t act like you haven’t ever fucked up in life either. I hate the high and mighty bullshit posts from people over shit you have no knowledge of.

Hollywood is a fucked up place and let me drop a bomb on you all, majority of the shit people sit online discussing is purposely created to keep people engaged from random headlines to bs from tv shows, news stories, movies, celeb drama, we’re all entangled in the web.

Example: Marketing is creating a story about two celebs fighting or dating and in reality the celebs never met but the rumor is now out there and they test to see the reactions.

Many feel Chris image is fake due to this mess but was it? I’m sure he would have revealed himself years before this mess if this was who he truly is.

Use your brains people, don’t fall for bullshit and don’t waste time fussing and cursing Chris everyday because you think this is some simple PR stunt he chose to do or that he’s actually with her.

Truth always come to light so don’t take anything personal and sit back and just watch until it all explodes. Lies can only last so long. 💅

An🫶n, you make an excellent point. And I wholeheartedly agree with you.

Chris may be a celebrity, but he's also a guy who needs to keep money flowing in order to live.

A big possibility, purely speculation, but the PR contract must have been tied to a lot of money. Money that post pandemic, he definitely needs. So, he's selling this, failing, but selling to get the check. And as shallow as that is, he definitely needs the money like any other grown up with bills.

So, let's cut Chris a little slack. And let's not wish him harm, because I heard from the grapevine that someone in the Fandom has wished him harm.

Not naming names. But that's fucked up, and you're no better than the people on the other side, whoever you are.

As for the fans that only want the best for Chris, let's ride the waves, hang in there, and continue to call 'em out! Or ignore certain tantrum-like antics. Whatever the occasion calls for 😌

[notoriousbeb]

The My Tears Ricochet Deep Dive

While this song obviously has a clear reference to Taylor’s masters being sold to Scooter Braun in November 2019, I don’t think that’s the full story being told here.

When she released Folklore, Taylor shared via Instagram that “My Tears Ricochet” is about an “embittered tormentor showing up at the funeral of his fallen object of obsession.”

Now, why is she fallen? Because her work has been taken from her. Okay, one question answered. ✅

Now, who is the “embittered tormentor obsessed” with Taylor? Scooter Braun, of course…But see, I actually don’t think it’s that simple. I get why that’s the obvious first choice, though.

(Back story for new kids who don’t know why Scoots is trash: In July 2016, Taylor was outcast and called a snake due to a leaked phone call by Kim Kardashian and her then-husband Kanye West. Scooter was Kanye’s manager. Then Kanye put out the video of the song in question from the call—featuring a naked Taylor lookalike. Then Justin Bieber posted that video to Instagram with a photo showing him on a video call with Scooter and Kanye. The caption said, “Taylor Swift what up.” So, they’re all three supreme douche-canoes of the highest order).

However, I think Scooter’s top priority (as always) in buying Taylor’s masters was simply to make money. And if he pissed her off while doing so, that was probably a delightful bonus. But I wouldn’t say he bought her masters because he was obsessed with her. This deal was nearly three years later, and nothing had popped off between the camps in the interim.

I have more on this tormentor/obsessor/muse, concept; but first, back to Folklore. Upon its release, Taylor also revealed in a YouTube livechat that it was the first song she wrote for the album. And that leads me into a bit of timing discussion.

I think Folklore was the result of a few seismic events in Taylor’s life: a run-in with Harry at Ed’s wedding in December 2018 (which I think helped to spawn his second solo album, Fine Line); followed by talking to him during early quarantine in March 2020 in Los Angeles when the Lover tour got postponed and then cancelled; the pandemic itself pushing her, like many of us, into some serious introspection; and, of course, the sale of her masters to Scooter in 2019.

Since this is the very first song Taylor wrote that ended up on Folklore, my speculation is that perhaps it was penned in those first couple of days of the pandemic, before she reconnected with Harry in LA.

Fine Line would have been newly released—just three months prior—and on her birthday no less.

Which leads me back to the tormentor and obsessor. You know what I might find tormenting, if I were Taylor? If I’d been waiting for this one guy to grow the fuck up for years and then (perhaps after we ran into each other at our good friends’ wedding?), he confessed to me that he still wanted me but, even at 25, he still didn’t have his shit together (please see, “Renegade,” “To Be So Lonely,” and “Peter”).

Then, after I piece myself back together following snake gate, some epic twat who bullied me online back then buys my work out from under me from the guy I thought I had a good working relationship with (Scott Borchetta) and while I’m dealing with that bullshit my ex I’m still pining for releases album on my birthday with songs seemingly about us and how he still wants me.

Yeah, that’d have me plenty tormented. And feeling like, since his first album was also quite “a tip of the cap” to me (his words) as well that, yeah, someone was a little obsessed with me.

So, anyway, the lyrics:

We gather here, we line up, weepin' in a sunlit room And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too

We open at the funeral Taylor told us about. Then referencing a potential cremation. If she’s burning, so is he. Because they’re twin flames? Because they’re so close?

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you ‘Til my dying day

Does this sound like someone talking to either a bully or a former business associate? To me it sounds like a very messy, very difficult, former lover.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And you're the hero flying around, saving face And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

I can see how people could think this was about Scott, but not Scooter. But T herself said this whole thing was about one muse: The embittered obsessor attending her funeral.

Anyway, my take: it’s a lover she couldn’t let go of easily, so it ended messy.

And now he’s out promoting an album full of songs about them, pretending it’s not, because he’s a gentleman. But while he’s acting like she’s nothing to him, they both know what he said to her in private, and what those songs are really about, and no matter how much she cries and waits and wants him to grow up and come get her he just can’t — or won’t.

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll means Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

This is a Biblical allusion to Ecclesiastes 3:5: “A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.” I think she’s referring here to an idea revisited again in “loml,” that she thought she’d be safer and maybe get the life she wanted with someone more stable, versus being in a relationship that left her starry eyed, like she was with Harry…and that’s how she wound up with Joe for six years.

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you But what a ghostly scene

Ah, would it really be a Haylor lyric breakdown if we weren’t talking about ghosts and haunting at some point? 👻 They obviously haunt one another because they can’t shut up about each other. (Not that I’m complaining!)

Two Ghosts: “We're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty.” ....Ready for it?: “Wonder how many girls he loved and left haunted.” Cardigan: “I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs.”

You wear the same jewels that I gave you As you bury me

Even while doing the press for Fine Line, H was wearing her ring. Should we talk some more about the Haylor ring? Or burying and graves? Nah. I think these posts sum it up very well.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

I think these lines could be a reference both to things he’s said to her and in his songs about her, particularly the pointed ones. “Lights Up,” for one, which to me, reads like an argumentative back-and-forth about why must things change in a relationship against the backdrop of fame. It also seems to include a tie to “Peter” with “I’m never coming back down,” as compared to “I didn’t want to come down.”

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones

And where is home in this case—and so many others? Each other.

And I still talk to you When I'm screaming at the sky And when you can't sleep at night You hear my stolen lullabies

I imagine this is her picturing him listening to her old albums, as she hadn’t done her rerecords yet. Also, again, doesn’t this all seem a bit…intimate and dramatic for a business relationship? Like, picture this moment in the Eras Tour in your mind, please, and tell me with a straight face that you’d sing like this for your former boss. It certainly doesn’t seem like anything you’d say to someone like Scooter. Why would she ever want to talk to him at all?

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same Cursing my name, wishing I stayed You turned into your worst fears And you're tossing out blame, drunk on this pain Crossing out the good years And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet

So, this is where we get into the “embittered” part of Taylor’s original description of the song’s muse—the person visiting her funeral. Why is he bitter? Because he lost her. She didn’t stay. Perhaps because his own bad behavior pushed her away. “All the light couldn’t put out the dark running through my heart?” “I know you were way too bright for me. I’m hopeless, broken.” Also, and again, please see, “Renegade,” and “To Be So Lonely,” and “Peter” and also “Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus.”

[memeracer13]

random intrusive headcanon idea, i should make this a series:

craig hates magic. he hates magic as a concept and as a character building tool for all the various aus and games the kids play. think about how literal he is, constantly citing data, history, and semantical logic whenever he justifies something (put it down being the obvious example)

all the things he has rumoured to be interested in are sci-fi related, which although is fantasy, it’s rooted in a respect for accuracy and (fabricated) proofs or theorems.

feldspar has a duplication power, but it’s literally just other kids dressed up as him (unlike most other magical powers in the game, implying that even within the lore, it’s a ruse)

in the fellowship episode he chooses to go play with the harry potter kids instead, but that’s after not wanting to cross water to avoid 6th graders (understandable. roleplaying is the lesser of two evils here)

all his other aus? NOT A CHANCE! DUDE LIKES DIRECT CONTACT COMBAT! we don’t talk about dark mage craig from phone destroyer, that’s a feldspar bootleg lol

yp craig would hate magic because it’s forbidden under christianity. incan craig literally just had his shock powers from the pandemic, he didn’t ask for that lol. the whole episode he was actually trying to avoid it all! he saw the magical lush ancient civilization and said NOPE before leaving.

anyways, all this to say that i think craig hating on the concept of magic is really fucking funny and that’s my main justification for this. like imagine:

tweek: can our superhero personas use magic?

craig: no, magic is stupid.

tweek: ??? but i want to be an elementalist :<

craig: you need a sci-fi related backstory. magic with bullshit sources will make no sense. where is the energy coming from? what if it turns out the source of your magic harvests magic from someone else. would you kill puppies if it let you cast a spell, tweek?

tweek: what the hell man! no???

craig: EXACTLY. magic is energy, which can’t be created or destroyed, only transferred, so if you don’t know the source of it, just use science. sci-fi would never lie to us

… and so on. you get the point. i find this really funny for no reason so maybe someone else here agrees with my shitty sense of humour

[lavoixhumaine]

Before anything else—I don’t know if you will see this but I want to thank everyone who left the kindest and most supportive messages and replies. Thank you sincerely from the bottom of my heart.

To @rainedamodred and @bestbuddybobby — I wouldn’t have made it through without you both.

Now…

I’ve been contemplating what to write here for the last twelve hours.

When I say the past two weeks have been the most difficult in my entire life, that is not an exaggeration. It’s been…hell, honestly.

My husband was diagnosed with an arrhythmia over two years ago. Didn’t sound good but it wasn’t uncommon, but he was a special case, as we were told because on top of being unnaturally tall for our people, he apparently also had an unnaturally large heart…literally. We were presented with options that we were told we could delay due to the pandemic and our concerns regarding safety in authorizing a rather complicated operation during what felt like a perilous time…

The pandemic didn’t really end but it eased. We went in for a checkup. They said it was okay so far as long as he wasn’t feeling any different. He said he was fine. I believed him.

So we thought we had time. We thought this year we could get back on track after the hellacious last couple of years. Get back to what passed for normal, start traveling again, see old friends, revisit our favorite places, hit up our old haunts…

We scheduled him for surgery the beginning of next year…but I suppose fate had other plans.

My husband flatlined twice in the last couple of weeks. He was brought back both times but not without cost. They tried different medications. There were heavy discussions on what options were available. The idea of a heart transplant was offered but waiting for a new heart meant…well, you have some idea, yes? There was no way he could travel for treatment. His heart was going insane…hitting over 200 beats per minute, erratically bouncing from 90 to 145 in a blink…it was a mess.

I coped by not coping…I ended up breaking so many things in our home…a table, a glass wall and whatever I could get my hands on. The floors looked like they were littered with glittering diamonds by the time I was through…so much glass everywhere. It was the only way I could pull myself back together and return to the hospital without falling apart and screaming at someone.

And the goddamn crying…it came and went and I kept waiting to run out of tears but I never did.

I had my mothers and aunts calling from all over in different timezones and at first, I answered but then I would cry more because they cared and they kept offering…kindness and comfort. They wanted to come and be there but I couldn’t imagine keeping up a facade to yet another group of people when I’m busy trying not to fall apart and be The Wife.

And listening to them trying to give me comfort…somehow that was enough to trigger disgusting crying jags that helped nobody and just made a mess out of me. I stopped taking calls. I couldn’t keep my shit together when I kept falling apart at the sound of a caring voice.

For the first time in almost ten years, I was alone. In all the time I’ve been with my husband, I have never been alone…that broke something inside me.

He’s the calm voice, he’s the adult in the room, he makes the decisions, he is the one person that can talk me down from whatever insane cliff I’ve driven myself to…and suddenly, there was just silence.

It reached a point where I was the only one left to make decisions because he couldn’t anymore…his doctors all agreed the best option was to perform a cardiac ablation and implant a device that would be connected to his heart—a defibrillator with a pacemaker backing.

At that point, I was too exhausted mentally, emotionally and psychologically…I said yes to whatever they felt was best. They let me pick and choose off a menu which piece of technology to put next to his heart like I was in an Apple launch event. It was all so…fucking surreal.

Wasn’t it only a few days ago we were celebrating his birthday? He’s only fucking forty-one.

Between the harsh reality that I might lose my husband and the unrelenting conflicts that kept intruding upon an already terrible situation by way of his family…I was barely keeping myself together. I couldn’t even go home anymore and break things…I was that close to breaking things in the hospital but then how would that look if word got out?

I was too scared to go home…too scared I’ll leave and he would slip away.

It’s just the kind of thing he would do…leave without telling because he thinks that would hurt me less. Fuck, sometimes he’s also a dumbass but he is my dumbass, okay?

After I was able to make a decision that would alter his life while hopefully saving it…within twenty-four hours, the device was flown in as well as the specialist that would perform the surgery. Almost two weeks of agony and suddenly, an OR was booked, the doctors were lining up and introducing themselves, discussing their roles in the operation, explaining how it was all going to go down, the technician was making a presentation on how the device would save him on a daily basis while I was too punch drunk to process the information, the anesthesiologist was talking about how they expected things to go, critical care was throwing in his two cents, the cardiologist was trying to reassure me that he would be okay within twenty-four hours after the procedure and he will be able to go home just like that…

It happened so fast, it left my head spinning.

He’s home now. It’s not a fun experience and recovery will take time, but he’s alive and that’s really all that fucking matters.

Right now, I’m dealing with residual bullshit with his family…his sister who is a neurotic passive aggressive piece of work and his mother who seems to have no problem showing him how much she hates him right now…his father continues to be the kindest of them.

I loved and adored these people last month.

One of my aunts said I should not stew in my anger and hold resentment in my heart…that I should give all my negative feelings to God and ask Him to help me continue to love and honor them as I have been doing from the beginning. Ask God to help me keep my love for them so I will not be clouded and remember they are my family…

I told her to call me again next week and try again.

Right now, I just want to get my house back in order and help my husband with his recovery. Get our lives back to where it should be. Find some kind of normal that works for this new us.

I’m trying to channel my rage into more useful outlets outside of that and do something good because that seems like a much better idea than giving in to the urge to commit arson. I am trying so hard not to acknowledge the rage that I am not quite ready to let go of…

I stopped breaking things—I think I’m on the right track.

I keep reminding myself…

He’s alive. He’s not dead. He’s here. He’s breathing. He’s alive. He’s speaking. He’s right here. He’s alive. He’s here. He’s right here.

He’s alive.

And the silence has gone.