#i don't believe in half measures

[starcurtain]

I have this small, deeply personal headcanon that after his grandmother's passing, Alhaitham's home was so unbearably quiet that he started--just barely, just one or two words--to speak out loud to her as if she was still there.

"I've been accepted to the Akademiya, Grandmother."

"I passed my promotion exams."

"I debated with Haravatat's sage."

Just that, and quiet again.

But one day, it's: "I met someone strange."

"He keeps showing up when I'm trying to study."

"We don't agree on anything. Still..."

"I made a friend."

"Today, Kaveh and I were researching--"

"It's already dark. I didn't realize we spent so long in Razan Garden. Kaveh wanted to hear about my article--"

"He's going to be furious when I tell him the whole point for his portion of the lecture is based on a false predicate--"

The house where his grandmother used to be gets a little louder again; the noise lasts a little longer.

Until one day, when there's no words at all.

One day, when there's just the sound of a single sob, and then a long, long silence.

[iniquitousyearning]

tom riddle. | everyone has their vices

summary: tom riddle tells you he jerks off (and more) to relieve stress. just….in typical tom fashion.

word count: 2k

tags: 18+, suggestive content, so much tension you’ll choke on it, frustrating subliminal tom riddle (though reader is just as stubborn), flirting, masturbation insinuation, make out sesh.

"But how?”

Tom inhaled sharply, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he prepared to reexplain for what felt like the hundredth time. "Because, the slightest distraction or doubt can result in consequence—as I said previous. A momentary lapse in any of the areas we covered will result in splinching."

You blinked, staring at him like he'd spoken an alternate language. The late night and the relentless focus on Tom's face for the past four hours had blurred everything into a haze and dulled his voice into a monotonous hum, blending with the soft rustle of parchment and the distant lapping of the lake against the window. He could see it—your disconnection, the way his words slipped past you like water through fingers.

He exhaled, slumping back in his chair, a hand raking through his dark hair in frustration. "Should we call it a night?"

"Probably," you muttered, your gaze drifting to the window behind him, the surface of the Black Lake rippling under the moonlight. "You've overloaded my brain. I stopped comprehending two hours ago."

You felt Tom's eyes narrow slightly as he studied you—you must have looked a mess. Strands of hair had fallen out of your ponytail, your uniform shirt was half undone, and there was a dullness in your eyes that spoke of more than just exhaustion. A week bedridden with the flu had set you back, and now, despite Tom's best efforts, you felt like you were drowning.

He knew you were stressed beyond measure—you were normally not like this.

"You need to relax," he said, the words landing with the flatness of an undisputed fact. "You won't retain anything in the state you're in."

"How can I relax when I'm two weeks behind? And exams are next week?" Your voice cracked with the weight of your frustration as you leaned your elbows on his desk, burying your face in your hands. "I'm helpless, Tom. I know you know it."

"Would I be sitting here wasting my time if I thought you were helpless?" He watched you, almost clinical in his intensity as he spoke—tone matter-of-factly, devoid of any false comfort. It cut through your despair with ease. Tom Riddle never did anything without purpose; if he was here, it meant he believed you were worth the effort. "My suggestion is that you reset your brain," he continued, his voice steady like his fingers as he shut the textbook between you. "Take a walk. Have a cold shower. Jump in the lake. Whatever you need to do to decompress."

The simplicity of his suggestions almost made you laugh, but it was the kind of laughter that would easily turn into tears if you let it. Tom had a way of stripping everything down to its most basic form—of cutting through your stress and chaos and presenting you with a simple, unvarnished answer.

You were a mess, and he was telling you to fix it—no coddling, no pity, just a clear-eyed assessment of the situation. And somehow, that was exactly what you needed to hear. You appreciated him for it.

"Decompress, huh. I don't believe I've ever done such a thing." You leaned back in your chair with a lopsided grin, arms crossed. "Is that what you do? Jump in the lake?"

Tom let out a huff, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in what was almost—almost—a smile.

"Something like that."

Interesting—Tom Riddle, always so composed, every inch of him meticulously put together, as if the mere idea of stress was a foreign concept. You couldn't imagine him spiralling, not the way you did—frankly, you couldn't imagine him ever feeling overwhelmed at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, wondering what he did to unwind—what rituals or habits did the untouchable Tom Riddle indulge in when no one was watching?

"Something else, then?" You pushed it further, gently, your eyebrow arching just slightly.

For a moment, his gaze flickered, something dark and inscrutable passing behind his eyes. You knew he was considering your words, debating whether to indulge your curiosity or keep you at arm's length. Such a fascinating creature he was—all brick walls and boarded windows—you had a feeling he was going to shut this down.

Until, he leaned forward.

"If you're asking if I have habits—I suppose I do," he said, your eyes drawn to the way his lips moved, the way his voice curled around each syllable. "Habitual things I do to—relax, let's say."

You hummed and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you considered him—fighting to hide your amusement. That was the biggest personal moment you've had out of Tom Riddle since the day you met him in first year where he told you his name.

"Well, isn't that a revelation," you teased, toying with the edge of your skirt. "Just the mere insinuation that Tom Riddle has to do something to relax—as though he's not always cool, calm, and collected like he lets on."

His lips curled slightly at your words, his gaze dipping briefly from your eyes to your mouth, trailing lower in a slow, deliberate sweep that brushed over your chest before landing back on the desk.

Your brain buffered, tingles in the wake of his wrath. He picked up his quill, spinning it idly between his fingers. 

"Everyone has their vices—if they don't, they end up like you," he said, his tone laced with an ambiguity that made you wonder just how deep his ran. "Perhaps it's time you found some."

You scoffed, leaning further back in your chair, the fabric of your shirt pulling tighter across your chest. You forced yourself to ignore the visceral reaction your body had as you caught the brief flicker in Tom’s gaze—the way his eyes darted up to the movement before he quickly masked his expression.

For a moment, you thought you might be imagining things, but the tensing of your thighs betrayed a reaction you couldn't quite shake.

"And what are yours?" You asked after a moment, your voice softer now. Tom Riddle was many things, but he was not a conversationalist—and yet here he was, indulging your curiosity instead of shutting it down. He was humouring you, and you intended to make the most of it. "Decompressing with bland tea and ancient tomes? Sneaking into the Restricted Section when no one's looking?"

“Mm, no.” Tom let out a snort, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips— "I’d say my vices are less...pedestrian, than all that."

The quill in his fingers stilled—the change in his demeanour was subtle, though you felt it in the air—electric, making your pulse quicken. He traced the edge of the feather with the tip of his thumb, the motion slow and deliberate, and you found yourself inexplicably distracted, fighting the urge to shift in your seat.

Why in Merlin's name was that so damn captivating?

"Less pedestrian?" You echoed, curiosity at an all-time-high. "What do you do, then, Tom? Dance naked by the light of the full moon?"

"I should hope not," he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that resonated in the pit of your stomach as you giggled alongside him. The quill twirled again in his fingers, the motion languid, almost hypnotic. "No, I'd say my vices are more...private. Less suited to polite company. Perhaps I should let you guess since the mystery of it seems to fascinate you so."

The look he gave you made you stiffen, a challenge—no, a dare—clear in his deep, dark eyes. Your thighs involuntarily reacted again—less suited to polite company?

"I believe I've already made several guesses," you tried to compose yourself with a shallow inhale. "I'm quite at a loss."

He shook his head, stifling his grin. "Clearly, you lack imagination."

"Clearly, you enjoy being cryptic." You shot back, unable to stifle yours.

At that, he hummed—it was obvious your stubbornness was as entertaining to him as it was aggravating. Perhaps you could say the same. He set the quill down, his eyes on yours as the fingers of his free hand began to tap idly on the desk—and then his gaze dipped again, tracing the curve of your lips before drifting lower, a slow, deliberate path that made you tense.

For a moment, you wondered if the tension in the air was all in your head. Was he always this adventurous with his eyes?

"When the mind is under strain," he began, his voice smooth, clinical, "it's a result of an excessive influx of neural signals. Synapses misfire, disrupting cognitive function. A basic physiological response." He watched your reaction closely, as though gauging the impact of his words. "To address such a state, one must reestablish control over these neural pathways. To be direct, I find the most efficacious methods involve tasks that stimulate the senses without being emotionally or physically taxing. A simple, repetitive action can suffice—something arbitrary enough to encourage the subconscious to lose focus."

You fought the urge to scowl at his change in speech—Tom knew damn-well just how overwhelmed your brain was—and then continued to recite scientific jargon as if it were his full-time occupation.

You’d almost be mad if it weren’t for the fucking words that stuck to the inside of your ears—stimulate, repetitive, lose focus—

"You're a walking textbook, aren't you?" You continued to play it off—you didn't want to make assumptions—you hated the way he danced around the edges of things, never quite saying what he meant. "Be specific."

Tom's grin grew as he leaned in slightly, his fingers stilling on the desk between you. "I find tasks that involve the hands particularly useful. Something that can be repeated in a smooth, steady rhythm, with little conscious thought required. The ability to lose oneself in the pattern is key."

Merlin help you—the atmosphere in his dorm had changed with those words; the air turned viscous, cloying, each breath sticking in your throat like syrup—hands, steady rhythm, lose oneself—the words pulsed with implication, even if it was buried under layers of his typical, infuriating ambiguity.

He was absolutely referring to—no—no assumptions—

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "So...knitting?"

The words tumbled out, a weak attempt at humour to cut through the tension, but they hung lifeless in the air—as hollow as the chuckle that rumbled from Tom's chest.

His eyes traced over you, lingering in a way that made your skin prickle. "Not exactly."

"Hm. A different kind of needlecraft, perhaps." You shifted in your seat, trying to inject a semblance of nonchalance into your posture.

But you weren't fooling him—you never had—

"How much longer are you going to play coy?" He murmured, the amusement clear from light-years away.

Heat surged up your neck, the flush burning across your cheeks, betraying you—"how much longer are you going to continue holding your tongue?"

Your voice came out sharper than intended, laced with a challenge you barely felt capable of meeting. You and Tom had always been cordial, the slight suggestive comment here and there, mostly from your end. But this—oh, this was different—this was uncharted territory.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Would you prefer I do something else with it?"

Oh, fuck yes you would—

"You're being obtuse," you practically choked out, though the words lacked the bite you intended. "Entirely vague."

"I'm being clear," he countered, his gaze never wavering. "But you're being obstinate—willfully ignorant to my meaning because you refuse to acknowledge it without me saying it outright."

The air between you dissipated—you tried to grasp for a coherent thought, something to regain your footing, but your mind faltered, stumbling over the implications of what he was saying. His eyes never left yours—and you watched them deepen in colour, black pupils eating away the rich brown of his irises, darkening with something that made the room feel unbearably small.

You could feel the heat rising in your body, pooling low in your belly. How did he do this to you? How did he turn you inside out with nothing more than words and that infuriating, knowing smile?

"Tell me," you breathed, hating how desperate the words sounded, "what do you do with your hands, Tom?...how do you use them to relieve...stress?"

The second those words left your lips you realized what was truly happening here—Tom Riddle never did anything without intent—every word, every pause, every smirk, was a thread in a web he was weaving, intricate and inescapable. He'd led you here, gently, subtly, with the barest hint of force, and now that you were caught, you realized that you wanted this.

Needed it.

And it was clear he did too. Otherwise you'd never have gotten to this point—he wanted you to push, to dig deeper—your stomach twisting as you watched Tom wet his lips, but there was no smirk on them this time.

Only something intense—jaw set, eyes focused—

"I think we both know what I do with my hands," he whispered, the double entendre clear in every syllable— "you knew exactly what I was insinuating the moment this started."

Your breath snagged in your throat, a tremor running through your entire body as the warmth pooling in your belly began to spread, sinking lower, threading through every nerve. Your vision narrowed, centering entirely on him—his eyes, the curve of his lips, the way his presence seemed to devour the room, leaving no space for anything else.

And then, you nodded, the movement barely there—a subtle acknowledgment of your understanding.

"Do you touch yourself, Tom?..." the words escaped you, a soft, breathy whisper that you could hardly believe were your own. "Or do you touch someone else?"

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze, suspended in the intensity of those questions.

The world narrowed to the point of his gaze, the sharp line of his jaw—the reality of where you were, what you were doing, almost seemed to blur—trapping you both in a moment that felt surreal, like a scene caught in the still frame of a film. Never—never—had you imagined a conversation like this with Tom Riddle, hardly your acquaintance, the untouchable genius of the school.

And yet here you were, heart pounding, every nerve on fire, and Merlin help you, you were going to wring every drop of this out for as long as you could.

He swallowed, and you watched the movement, entranced. "Depends on my level of stress."

Tom's expression was unreadable—except for the subtle tension in his shoulders as he leaned back, spreading his legs a fraction wider, the fabric of his dress shirt straining against the flex of his biceps—

"...and how stressed are you right now?" You whispered, reckless, without a trace of restraint.

Tom's throat bobbed with another swallow, a gesture so simple yet so charged that it sent your pulse roaring in your ears.

"Quite," he murmured, his voice taut, stretched thin. "The past four hours have been rather taxing—wouldn't you agree?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up, escaping before you could stop it. You tried to steady yourself, drawing in a slow, shaky breath. You had never felt so intensely aroused and frustrated in your life, and you knew, without a bloody doubt, that he was perfectly aware of it.

"Are you trying to imply l'm the cause of your stress?"

"On the contrary," he said, his gaze raking over you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if you were something to be consumed, devoured whole. "I'm saying you've exacerbated it. Though I'll concede a fair share of the responsibility—as it is mine, after all."

"How kind of you," you whispered, voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "To admit your own fault in the matter."

"I'm a kind man." His voice was a low purr, the kind that seeped into your bones, making your blood thrum with anticipation. "I like to take responsibility for my shortcomings."

Yes, yes—so very kind—

"Then take it."

The words left your mouth before you could second-guess them, a challenge thrown into the thick, suffocating air between you. The tension was a living thing now, colled tight, ready to snap, turning your insides into a churning mess of want and need.

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"Take it?" He echoed. "And what exactly do you want me to take, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart.

The pet name rolled off his tongue with a casual ease that sent a flush of heat straight to your core— the simple word wielded like a weapon, striking you down with its intimacy. There was no denying the power that name held over you, especially when coming from his lips.

"The responsibility..." you whispered, the words trembling as they left you, barely more than a breath. "…for your..." you hesitated, your eyes locked onto his as you finally said, "…shortcomings."

For a moment, everything hung in the balance—until, oxygen extinct, Tom leaned forward, closing the space between you until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with your own.

Curse this fucking desk between you.

"My shortcomings," he repeated, his eyes flicking to your lips. "Is that all I should take responsibility for?"

"Are you suggesting..." you leaned in as well, the distance between you shrinking to a breath—your gaze drawn to his own mouth—the plush of it, how bad you wanted to feel it against yours, "...there's something else you wish to take responsibility for?"

Said mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile and witnessing the shift this close felt dangerously religious—as though you'd experienced something sacred not many have before—part of you knew you did.

"Many things," he whispered, the sound soft as velvet, dangerous as a blade. "The list is long and varied..."

The heat in your body was painful—you had never been this close to him, never felt the full weight of his presence bearing down on you like this. His cologne—faint, rich, and so distinctly Tom—overwhelmed you, the same scent he'd worn since you first met him.

It was infuriating, how everything he did was so subtle, simple—yet so fucking intoxicating, so irresistible.

"...I'm not quite sure where to start." His eyes flicked back to yours.

Every word that fell from his lips was a new form of torture, his dark eyes pinning you in place, searing into you. The heat radiating from his body made you want to retreat, to find air, to find space—but the thought of putting any distance between you was unbearable, the need to be near him overriding everything else.

You'd rather lose consciousness than pull back.

"Why don't you start..." you whispered, tilting your head, your teeth grazing your bottom lip. "By fixing the insatiable ache in my curiosity...the one you created when you mentioned how you use your hands...to relieve stress..."

He exhaled, the sound rumbling from his chest like a growl and you could almost imagine that if he parted his lips, you'd glimpse fangs behind them right now—you'd never seen him like this—his gaze predatory, fucking ravenous, and it was as though he could devour you whole if he so chose to.

But you knew better. Tom Riddle would never be so crude. His methods of torment were deliberate—Methodical. A slow depletion of your senses until you're gasping for something only he can give you.

Then, in a voice that was all gravel and silk, he whispered, "is that all that's aching...your...curiosity?"

"Gods no—"

But you never finished that thought—because in an instant, his hand was tangled in your hair, pulling you forward with a force that sent you careening over the desk and into him—Tom Riddles lips crashed against yours, and it was like drowning, his tongue invading your mouth, stealing your breath and dragging all ounces of your cognitive ability along with it.

You were half out of your chair, caught in the gravity of him, unsure if your legs were even working, or if it was his grip alone that held you upright. His free hand found your wrist, pinning it to the desk as his mouth worked you with a fervour that made your head spin. The kiss was incendiary, a wildfire scorching its way through every nerve in your body, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake—the intensity of it, the sheer, unrelenting pressure of his lips on yours, made you wonder how you survived this long without it.

All the heat in your blood pooled low, deep between your thighs, an ache so profound it threatened to consume you. Tom Riddle was about to show you precisely how he used his hands to relieve stress, and Gods, if that wasn’t the only thing you’d ever needed right now.

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

___________

[Next]

[luveline]

WOULD LOOOVE to see badass reader get jealous over someone flirting with spencer

ty for requesting ♡ —spencer reassures you when he catches the eye of a receptionist at the ocean city precinct. fem!reader, 1.3k

Hotch lives on coffee lately. Any type from any source, he doesn't care what it tastes like so long as it keeps him awake. You're similar, in that even if you hated it, you'd keep it to yourself. 

But you're frowning in disgust at your cup. Eyebrows wrinkled, lips in a fierce line. Hotch sighs and puts his hand on the back of your chair. "Are you alright?" he asks. 

You've never told him otherwise. "Fine. Thank you." 

"There's water in my bag," he offers. You won't meet his eyes. You probably have a headache. "And aspirin." 

For as long as he's known you and worked with you, you've been as you are now, quiet, stern, with little sense of humour at work and not much more outside of it. The only evidence of your soft heart is how you work like a dog, and how you treat your coworker, Spencer. He's your achilles heel, your tender spot in all the tough scarring. Hotch knows there's nothing anyone can do to make you feel better if they aren't him. 

Hotch turns on the spot to look for him. The case you're working on here in Maryland has hit a lul, and exhausted faces peek out from behind their desks at Hotch's looking. He searches for the short mop of brown hair that's required and finds it in an unusual place. 

Spencer has been waylaid by a receptionist. Glimmering eyes, shiny silver fingernails that tap the desk in front of her as she speaks, the receptionist clearly has Spencer hanging on. He takes a step back and she doubles down, her storytelling audible from across the room. 

"You'll have to see it for yourself, Dr. Reid, it's a sight!" 

Hotch looks at you from the corner of his eye. "I see." 

"Don't know what you're talking about," you mutter. You stand and tip your coffee into the bin, letting the cup fall in after it morosely. 

"Why don't you go and help Reid?" Hotch asks. 

"Help Reid what?" you ask. Your tone betrays you —jealousy, sure, that slight crisp to your words that must hurt on the way out, but worse is the weakness as your sentence ends. You're jealous, and it's upsetting you. "I don't think I want to help him with that." 

Derek swings into the sequestered space you've been using to operate and beams at you like he knows exactly what you're thinking. 

"Isn't it surprising how quiet he can be? Years of catching bad guys and he can't say no to a pretty woman," Derek says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Derek have a half-hearted rivalry in that he loves to flirt and you disapprove. Your soft spot extends solely to Spencer no matter how hard Derek tries to sway you, though as you and Spencer have gotten closer, you've softened.

Hotch thinks that Derek's teasing might erase any progress that's been made. 

"Morgan," he says reproachfully. 

Derek makes a who, me? face but quickly gives in. "Why don't you go save him?" he asks you. 

"He doesn't need saving. Spencer is a grown man who can make his own choices," you say quietly. 

Hotch bites his tongue. Thankfully, Derek speaks up, without any teasing. "Spencer's been expected to  know how to do things without any help since he was a kid. I really think he just doesn't know how to walk away." 

You look down at your hands. Hotch has been doing his job for a long time, and he can guess what you're thinking from a misaligned finger. You don't feel like you measure up to the woman at reception. You're insecure about Spencer's affection for you, because you can't understand why he likes you so much to begin with. Hotch has thought it about Haley, Derek of Savannah. It's a very human doubt.

"Spencer tends to stand straight," Hotch says, bringing the lip of his paper cup up. "Right now, he's leaning away." 

It's in as simple terms as he can put it without outright telling you that he really, truly believes that Spencer wouldn't bother with anyone who isn't you. That Spencer loves you in the young, all encompassing way, even though neither of you seems to have realised the depth of it yet. 

Confident, no air of the girl frowning down at her hands, you leave the nook to approach Spencer from behind. 

"Hi," Hotch hears you say, "you okay?" 

Spencer visibly relaxes. "Hey, I'm fine. Uh, Y/N, this is Anabelle. Annabelle, this is my partner, Y/N." 

"Partner?" Derek asks. 

It's news to Hotch. Perhaps news to you, if the way you take his hand is any hint. It's like you've never held it before, and Hotch knows you have, he's seen you linking pinkies under tables. 

You strangle his fingers with yours. Spencer doesn't move an inch.

"She was just telling me about the sightseeing you can do here. Have you ever seen the world's longest worm on a string?" he asks you. 

"Hi, Annabelle," you say, turning to Spencer with poorly masked whiplash. "We're gonna try narrowing the search radius." 

"Oh, right." Spencer lets go of your hand in favour of putting a hand behind your shoulder, saying his thank yous and goodbyes to Annabelle before guiding you back to the makeshift BAU base camp. "What took you so long?" 

"What took me so long?" you ask.

"I thought you liked me!" Spencer says, teasing, his voice pitching higher. "I didn't know how to tell her I've already read the pamphlet she was quoting. She seemed nice though, right?" 

"She seemed nice, Spence," you agree, a little wobbly still but a thousand times less sullen than before. "I– of course I like you, you know I like you. Right?" 

Hotch is proud of Spencer for how remarkably he responds. Spencer puts his body between you and Hotch and Derek where they're standing to offer you the privacy you prefer, dropping his voice to match your tentativeness. "Yeah, I know. I was kidding. I think they'd have to reassess my position on this team if I didn't know that." He grabs your arm, thumb pressing into the crook of your elbow. "Are you okay?"

"I thought maybe she was flirting with you." 

Spencer shrugs uneasily. "Maybe. It wouldn't make a difference to me. Do you know that?" 

Your head dips down. Hotch can't hear what you say, honestly, he doesn't want to know. Eavesdropping on the people he cares about in their unhappy moments isn't something he makes a habit of, but it's hard not to hear Spencer's response. "Don't say that," he murmurs. "That's not true… We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You clear your throat. "Yeah. Whatever you want."

Derek doesn't hide that he's been listening very well, pulling a crime scene document up to his eye line as you and Spencer pull apart. Your eyebrows furrow into a glare, but it's Spencer who says, "What?" 

Hotch bites back a smile. Derek grins and holds his hands up in surrender. 

"Just nice to see you taking care of my favourite girl," he smarms.

"Stop. You're extremely unprofessional," Spencer says, helping you into your seat unnecessarily.

"And you're not?" Derek asks, gesturing to his hand where it lingers behind your shoulders. 

You finally chip in, apparently back to your regular self. "Only one of us was responsible for a unit wide HR mandate about inappropriate behaviour." 

"You cannot keep bringing that up." 

"Why not?" 

Hotch takes a sip of his tepid coffee. He'd rather not get involved. 

[alyssumlovesthecosmere]

So, the other day, Crash Course uploaded a video in their Religions series, about Judaism. Now, I haven't watched any video other than this one, but if this one is any metric to measure by.... well, it's bad. Really bad.

To start, the introduction starts with "shabbat toothbrushes", where John Green describes to us how (some) jews will brush their teeth on shabbat, while ensuring to not break any of the melachot, or prohibited actions. This, in my opinion, as an orthodox jew, is.... quite a framing to start with. Especially since immediately after that introduction, John Green let's us know that there are other jews! who don't do this! and just... sir, I'm an orthodox jew. Sure, I don't do follow that rule on the shabbat- sorry, the sabbath which you then explain is the shabbat to jews (the word Sabbath comes from the hebrew Shabbat), but I follow a lot of rules that folks find strange! And I do not appreciate a video talking about jews sidelining orthodox jews. Framing the video in that way is clearly an attempt to make Jews seem more "mainstream", but it erases, estranges, and (this happens more later on) villifies orthodox jews. Which isn't fair.

But we just started this 13 minute video. At this point last night, I sighed and figured this was going to be just your regular old "Orthodox Jews are strange and bad" sort of video, and resigned myself to that. And then I looked at the sections of the video. One of which included Zionism in it. And I immediately got more worried, because John and Hank donated through Project For Awesome to UNWRA which are.... very linked to Hamas, including there being evidence of UNWRA employees participating in the Oct. 7th Massacre. But okay. Maybe this video will be fine.

Spoiler alert: It wasn't. It was so incredibly bad. John Green admits at the start of the video that Judaism is complex, great! Now explain tha complexity correctly! no. So he starts off his history with... Ya'akov Avinu, sorry- Jacob. Who's a descendant of Avraham Avinu, sorry- Abraham (John uses the english names and not the hebrew one and it just bothers me). Which like... no, Jewish history starts with Eretz Yisrael, the land of Israel. In addition, a large majority of his sources are non jewish sources which is just. Why. There are so many jewish sources on Judaism!

As this is getting long, I'm gonna put a tl;dr here and then a read more cut. The tl;dr is this - the video is a horrendously western view of Judaism video, that seems to be written by non-jews who don't have any expertise in Judaism. It is filled with misrepresentation of jews, especially religious ones, is severely lacking pretty much all of jewish history, doesn't mention MENA/SWANA jews at all, and is quite frankly a disappointment. I'm mad and sad and upset and most of all disappointed with crash course for creating this video.

Still with me? great. I'm wordy and I have twelve minutes of this video to go through still. To make this a bit more organized, I'm gonna go according to the sections that John Green himself gave, and give a summary of what he said and what is wrong or misrepresented there.

The Many Versions of Judaism (aka, somehow not our history nor our story) there are a few things wrong/upsetting here. First off, as I said above, the fact that he uses the English names. Second off, the fact that he, bafflingly, starts the story with Ya'akov getting the name Yisrael, aka when Ya'akov fights with the angel. John then takes this to explain that Jews today still wrestle with Hashem in our own way, but in a... shall I say tumblr style reductionist way. Y'know, the "jews shake lemon at gd angrily behind a denny's" way. This chapter is the only one that will ever mention the ancient Israelites, and never the tie to the land of Israel itself. In addition to this, he describes Judaism as monotheistic, but that "half of religious jews today believe in some other spiritual force, and not the gd of the Hebrew Bible" which had me going what in the what. Just. No. like, sure, i'm a vaguely agnostic-atheist religious jew and uh, no? And I found his source, and well, if I had to guess - the jews who responded assumed that the god they were being asked about was the one in the xtian bible - and so answered no, while John assumed said jews meant the gd of the tanakh, aka hashem. Third, his "devil's advocate" scene is just. Once again, putting down Orthodox Jews, and compares without change Jewish Religious Institutions with Xtian ones. To quote "for a lot of jews, it's more about action than faith", I'd argue, personally, that that line is correct for most jews, as our religion is not really one of belief (orthodoxy) but of action (orthopraxy). And also, I'll paraphrase "many jewish people consider following Jewish law to be the most important thing" yes! yes we do! and not just many, most, that's! the whole! shtick! for us!! (and yes i'm aware this is a simplification). He also manages to vaguely describe Judaism as an ethnicity, and explain that some Jews are connected to the ancestral history (without explaining what that is, no connection to Israel here no sirree), which I guess is fine-ish? (it does not)

The Written Torah So here he starts off with saying that we'll focus on the torah and not the tanakh, as the torah is how we jews conceptualize our relationship to gd and each other. Except that... we also use the rest of the Tanakh for that! (minor kudos to him for saying that the tanakh was written by the ancient israelites. Just no mention of why there were ancient israelites and then we had to come back). The torah gives us most of our rules, but the tanakh expands on them, and teaches us how we choose to treat hashem, how we treat each other. When Jews say the written torah, we do oftentimes also mean the rest of the tanakh. Frankly, going through his sources, I can't figure out what source he used for this claim, except that he uses a lot of non-jewish sources (like the britannica), and very few Jewish ones which is just... why, you can clearly see these jewish sources exist, why not use them? I understand that this is meant to be lighthearted, but he compares the five books of the torah to seasons of friends, which is kinda eeeh. And added to that, his descriptor for bamidbar or numbers is "the ancient israelites wander and suffer through the wilderness" (paraphrased). First off, it was the desert, and second off this is exactly where in the torah we get all of the mitzvot and how to treat each other and hashem. This is it!! why name the book/"season" wrong?? He then continues and talks about how the themes of exile and return are common in the torah, and continue to resonate today, and yet doesn't... explain... the history of us being exiled. Instead, we take a tangent into antisemitism, specifically the plague related kind. Which... fine, I know he's got a liking for that aspect of history, but there's so much more. Of course, he also mentions that the Pope was one of the influential people who pushed back against it and... just... sigh. We're talking the catholic church here. The same catholic church WHO BLAMED JEWS FOR KILLING JESUS TILL THE NINETEEN SIXTIES. If the pope pushed back against it, it was because us jews had more value alive, not because he thought we had inherent value as people. Of course, since we're talking antisemitism, John only talks about xtian antisemitism. The "happy dhimmi" myth is alive and kicking in this video, as there is absolutely no mention of antisemitism within the non-western world. IN ADDITION, by framing the antisemitism the way he did - that the "dumb europeans" attacked the jews but their religious leaders were against it, John inadvertently erases antisemitism by non religious people, and by religious leaders. Both of which are and were alive and well.

Zionism (aka, I had to put this in here otherwise the tankies would yell at me, and I made a mess of it) And then we have this digression, which makes zero sense in the context of the story John is attempting to tell, into Zionism. There is no reason for it, and if it had to be in the video, it should have, quite frankly, gone in at the end. But that is only the start of the woes that I have to say on this section. To start, the amount of sources here are negligeble as compared to the other sections (note the numbers, all previous sources were for the other two sections)

48. Encyclopaedia Britannica | Zionism 49. University of Michigan | Zionism  50. Ben-Israel, Hedva. “Zionism and European Nationalisms: Comparative Aspects.” Israel Studies 8, no. 1 (2003): 91–104. 51. Ghanem, As’ad. “Israel’s Second-Class Citizens: Arabs in Israel and the Struggle for Equal Rights.” Foreign Affairs 95, no. 4 (2016): 37–42. 52. Halpern, Ben (2004) [1990]. "The Rise and Reception of Zionism in the Nineteenth Century". In Goldscheider, Calvin; Neusner, Jacob (eds.). Social Foundations of Judaism (2nd ed.). Eugene, Or: Wipf and Stock Publ. pp. 94–113. 53. American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise| Zionism: Anti-Zionism Among Jews

[copied from the source sheet]

I haven't read the sources, so I'm not going to talk about them, but the fact that only half of the sources seem to have been written by jews is... not great. At all. And then there's how John introduces and talks about the topic. John compares the themes of exile and return in the Torah and Tanakh to the narrative told by Zionists, and mentions Zionism being a political movement. All of this is correct. However, what John is very obviously missing here is the history of Jews within the land of Israel. He talks about how we wanted a state for Jews run by Jews, but doesn't explain that we wanted it in the land where we came from, a land where we have mitzvot, commandments, that are specific to it. A land that our holidays and calendar center. The fact that this is missing is one of the glaring issues in the whole video. He also mentions that Zionism views Judaism as a nationality, which is true. Judaism is viewed as a nationality in the modern sense through Zionism, but it's also a nationality, or nation, in the older sense, regardless of Zionism. In addition to that, while Zionism is the idea of having a Jewish run state for Jews, it does not preclude the existence of other, nonjewish, people in this state. Which is important for the next bit. He then adds that, quote "this is complicated for lots of geopolitical reasons, but suffice it to say, Jewish people are not the only people with roots or a current presence in the modern state of Israel." Which, I guess does mention our roots in the land, but it also completely flattens the whole story into, what feels to me, "Jews Zionists bad for wanting a state because there are other people". He then mentions the Druze and Xtian and Muslim Palestinians, which is fair but also why specifically the Druze? And if the Druze, why not also the Bedouin? Both are minority groups within Israel, and if you want to talk about minority groups, the Bedouin are equally as important for this discussion! (another friend later pointed out that the likely reason is that the pbs source John uses mentions the Druze (but as muslims, and not as their own religious group which. sigh. Druze are not Muslim), but not the Bedouin. And of course, we get a "not all jews support the zionist movement, but many do" yeah. a huge womping majority. For a reason. At the end of this section he says you can find "much much more" on the topic in the sources and I just have to raise an eyebrow, because I do not count these 6 sources as "much much more" information.

Then, finally, we're off of this ill-placed and wrongly done section, and back to actual religion things. You know. Like how John had said we'd be talking about.

The Oral Torah and the Talmud We start off strong, with an accurate description as to what exactly is the Oral Torah, and what its place within Jewish society and Judaism is. And then... John tells us that there are "two guys who started it". Huh? Who? Hillel and Shammai of course! what. so, to explain to all of you who have somehow read till here and don't know, Hillel and Shammai are just one pair in a long lineage of those who were, according to tradition, in charge of the oral torah. Even more so, they weren't the first in their generation of pairs! (this is the time known as the Zugot, or pairs). Hillel and Shammai are the seventh generation in those who lived during the time of the mishna being slowly worked on and getting codified, and Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi was the one who did all of the codification, FIVE GENERATIONS AND A TEMPLE COLLAPSE AFTER THEM. So I chose to go into the sources to figure this one out, because frankly I'm baffled. And as far as I can tell, this comes from the encyclopedia britannica (again, why) saying that Hillel and Shammai were the last of the Zugot and that they taught the Tanaim (those who ended up writing the mishna), but just. What. Why. John then continues on to explain who Hillel and Shammai are, describing them as "Shammai, the rules are rules type" and "Hillel, the gentle, caring, impossible to anger type". I just- again with the putting down of one side (the stricter side) for the not so strict side. In addition to the fact that that isn't even an accurate description. It would be more accurate to describe the divide and debate between Hillel and Shammai as realistic and unrealistic. Hillel's school of thought, also known as Beit Hillel, worked with and around torah with the understanding that those who will be following it are people, and will make mistakes and need leniency. Shammai's school of thought, known as Beit Shammai, on the other hand, wanted people to strive to following the Torah in the most idealistic way. We follow Beit Hillel nowadays because they were better at taking day-to-day realities into account, but we remember Beit Shammai's halacha because we want to be able to fulfill our mitzvot in that way, and if human life didn't get in the way, we would do so. John Green stop putting those who keep stricter (or more idealistic) halacha as "bad" challange: level impossible. John Green then says, as is correct, that at around 200ce we started writing things down, but once again, he neglects to mention why we felt we needed to shift from oral to written (the answer is the Romans wanted us no longer jewish and we had lost our Temple and were going to be expelled from our holy land again, see, that's two sentences, is that so hard to say?) John Green then correctly explains that they way the Talmud was written down was by layers upon layers, "literally circling each other" however, that's only one portion of the halachic debate, and frankly, the Talmud is definitely not the central rabbinic text today. That's the Shulchan Aruch, which is based off of the Talmud, but collates all of Halachic debate into a masterpiece of a lot of books. It, too, has the layers upon layers thing, because why waste good paper space??? There are more mistakes here, in understanding that the Talmud is The Central Halachic thing, which again - look above I corrected it. I'll also happily admit that he's correct in saying that when we refer to the torah we mean both the written and oral ones. But we still have two sections to go, and I am still as wordy as ever.

Branches of Judaism Here is where I started to go from mildly annoyed at how he treats orthodox jews, to flat out mad. See, instead of explaining the differences between branches in a neutral way, John brings up differences that will make people feel things. He gives examples of questions - can women be rabbis - which will have listeners biased towards those communities that allow it (and yes, it is an issue within orthodox communities, but guess what! these communities are also trying to work within their framework of halacha for women's equality), or "can you push an elevator button on shabbat using electricity when the law says to refrain from creating fires and sparks on that day", which is an extreme oversimplification of the whole argument and discussion about electricity on shabbat, which will lead viewers to, once again, view those who do those things as backward, strange, and weird. And trust me, there are so many other halachic questions that can be used (such as can one heat food on shabbat, considering fire and heat, or how you deal with the dietary laws of kashrut), and idk. Maybe at this point I'm nitpicking, but as an orthodox not exactly a woman, it bothers me! It alienates me from the discussion, and it's really frustrating. He comments that the options you can choose are "unwavering, flexible, or somewhere in between", which to me shows a complete lack of understanding of what the orthodox framework of working with halacha is (too long; don't have time to explain - we can't strictly disagree with stuff but we can slowly push for change that may eventually end up disagreeing with something or another). He then explains Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform Judaism. His way of explaining is, while technically correct, missing an understanding of how we different streams of Judaism practice. John describes the differences as ones of strictness vs openness, lack of change vs flexibility. In reality, the difference between the streams is one of precedence. How much weight do we put on something that was written 2000 years ago? How much weight does our current way of living have? Orthodox Judaism will answer that what was written all that time ago has significantly more weight, that they knew more about halacha than we do, to Reform halacha, which takes halachic rulings from 2000 years ago under advisement, but sees how much the world has changed, and makes the rulings accordingly. I won't touch on his specific examples, and suffice it to say that they were in line with what I said earlier about his examples. They're there to make you feel something about these strange jews he's talking about, and that something is not always particularly nice, especially to Orthodox Jews. He then mentions a few other options, which is fine (though I wish he expanded on the "people who say 'I'm Jewish' but don't identify with any particular branch" as, with everything going on, and his sorely lacking explanation in how Judaism and conversion works, may lead to people deciding to just say they're jewish). After that he says that there "are jewish atheists". Yes. There are also orthodox jewish atheists, I thought we covered the fact that Judaism prefers action over belief at the start? I'm confused as to why he felt the need to add that here near the end of the video.

Next, he talks about the different physical branches of Judaism, and mentions that due to persecution we got to many different places. Of course, he once again neglects to mention the ur-persecution, or ur-reason that we are so spread out - our expulsion from Israel, and the beginning of the Jewish Diaspora (he mentions the Diaspora by name, but not the first reason for it). It's a glaring miss, but not as glaring as what is to come. He then talks about three diasporic communities, and I quote "...unique communities emerged in each new location: Ashkenazi Jews in Eastern Europe, Sephardic Jews in Spain and Portugal, and Beta Israel in Eithiopia". One nitpick and one incredibly important correction. Ashkenazi Jews were originally from ashkenaz, ie France and Germany and eventually got to Eastern Europe as well - the name of the general European tradition is, however, Ashkenaz. The second, and more pressing issue, is that he says that Sephardic Jews are in Spain and Portugal. Those communities haven't been there in a Hot Minute, ie since the Spanish Inquistion. They've been in the SWANA or MENA region, with some exceptions for some Dutch, American, and British Jews. I had to look at his sources, because are you kidding me. Both (all three, if we include Beta Israel) sources are from britannica. Again. My first instinct was that maybe the issue was with the source! I was wrong.

The source for Ashkenazi Judaism (emphasis mine)

Ashkenazi, member of the Jews who lived in the Rhineland valley and in neighbouring France before their migration eastward to Slavic lands (e.g., Poland, Lithuania, Russia) after the Crusades (11th–13th century) and their descendants. After the 17th-century persecutions in eastern Europe, large numbers of these Jews resettled in western Europe, where they assimilated, as they had done in eastern Europe, with other Jewish communities. In time, all Jews who had adopted the “German rite” synagogue ritual were referred to as Ashkenazim to distinguish them from Sephardic (Spanish rite) Jews. Ashkenazim differ from Sephardim in their pronunciation of Hebrew, in cultural traditions, in synagogue cantillation (chanting), in their widespread use of Yiddish (until the 20th century), and especially in synagogue liturgy. Today Ashkenazim constitute more than 80 percent of all the Jews in the world, vastly outnumbering Sephardic Jews. In the early 21st century, Ashkenazic Jews numbered about 11 million. In Israel the numbers of Ashkenazim and Sephardim are roughly equal, and the chief rabbinate has both an Ashkenazic and a Sephardic chief rabbi on equal footing. All Reform and Conservative Jewish congregations belong to the Ashkenazic tradition

As you can see, britannica does in fact mention that Ashkenazi Jews were first in the Rhineland valley (germany) and france, and later moved to Eastern Europe. I have some nitpicking on that as what I said doesn't match but regardless. Ashkenazi Jews aren't in Ashkenaz according to John, they are in Eastern Europe

The source for Sephardi Judaism (emphasis mine)

Sephardi, member or descendant of the Jews who lived in Spain and Portugal from at least the later centuries of the Roman Empire until their persecution and mass expulsion from those countries in the last decades of the 15th century. The Sephardim initially fled to North Africa and other parts of the Ottoman Empire, and many of these eventually settled in such countries as France, Holland, England, Italy, and the Balkans. Salonika (Thessaloníki) in Macedonia and the city of Amsterdam became major sites of Sephardic settlement. The transplanted Sephardim largely retained their native Judeo-Spanish language (Ladino), literature, and customs. They became noted for their cultural and intellectual achievements within the Mediterranean and northern European Jewish communities. In religious practice, the Sephardim differ from the Ashkenazim (German-rite Jews) in many ritual customs, but these reflect a difference in traditional expression rather than a difference in sect. Of the estimated 1.5 million Sephardic Jews worldwide in the early 21st century (far fewer than the Ashkenazim), the largest number were residing in the state of Israel. The chief rabbinate of Israel has both a Sephardic and an Ashkenazi chief rabbi. The designation Sephardim is frequently used to signify North African Jews and others who, though having no ancestral ties to Spain, have been influenced by Sephardic traditions, but the term Mizrahim is perhaps more properly applied.

As you can also see, the britannica also mentions that Sephardi talks about North African Jews. What is that? SWANA Jews exist? and experienced persecution? Couldn't be. Surely all Jews are actually European and are colonizers in the land of palestine (heavy sarcasm and cynicism). I've got to say, I find the fact that using where Jews ended up for Ashkenazi Jews, and where they "originated" (in quotation due to the fact that only the name originated from there) for Sephardi Jews rather disingenuous, as the story being told erases the existence of SWANA jews to an upsetting and worrying degree.

Review and Credits Almost done. Just have to get through the review. John finishes up the story with something that I have mixed feelings about. He describes Judaism as a religion, but that being Jewish doesn't require a religious identity. I find the but annoying. It's not "judaism is a religion but doesn't have to be", it's "judaism is a religion and a people, and a culture, etc etc". Judaism is older than the concept of religion, we're a people, who can also have a set of belief and behaviour, but not doing them does not preclude you from being part of the family (unless, of course, you actively leave the family but that is a nuance not for here). The rest of his review is fine in my opinion. And now, the credits, which have a list of names that don't seem to be Jewish, but I can't find that about all of them (i know at least one of the people in charge of information for either this video or the series in general is definitely not Jewish)

I don’t know how to finish this, other than… Do better, Crash Course, do better @sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog.

[zyafics]

DEAD MAN WALKING | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing —Mafia Boss x Doctor!Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe gets injured in a shootout, he can't make it home in time to save his life. However, it's just his luck to find a medical student walking out of her shift from the hospital. When he threatens you to save him, you do, but when he returns to uncover that the wound is more deadly than it seems—time is ticking for you to find a cure or die.

Content — 18+, explicit (to be determined).

It's late.

A consequence of staying overtime. Most medical students from your program left after their shift ended, but not you. You wanted more—to shadow surgeries behind spectator glass, to listen to pagers' on-calls, to follow the path of grunt work—because you believe in learning from the bottom up. It wasn't until one of the residents forcefully removed you from a debrief and mandated you to go home and rest that you finally left.

Exiting the hospital, a cool wind breezes over your exposed arms, causing goosebumps to rise. The night is dusky and grim; thick clouds envelop the dark sky, amplifying the fainted glow of lights streaming through the open windows of apartment buildings. Very few cars are passing through the main road, despite your place of work being in the center of the metropolitan area. It's empty. Quiet. Odd.

The parking lot is mostly vacated, except for a few residents' vehicles that have to stay for their hours. You don't own a car, utilizing the city's local public transportation system instead, and thankfully, there's a bus stop across from the hospital.

Your footsteps click against the concrete, each step bringing you closer to your destination, but something in your stomach churns with nausea. Something feels off. The stillness of the night isn't a common occurrence in a lively city bursting with mayhem. But before you can calm your mind—a distinct click is heard, followed by the cold press of a metal handle against the back of your skull.

Your breath hitches.

A gruff, masculine voice orders. "Don't scream."

You want to. Desperately. But you've lived in the city long enough to know it'll do nothing. It might cause your death instead. Defying the very instinct to call for help, the bubble waiting to pop from your throat, you nod once, letting your handler know you abide by his command.

"Turn around."

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, threatening to spill. With measured breaths and cautious steps, you turn.

The sight surprises you. The man holding you in captivity is tall—and devilishly handsome. But that's not your main source of concern. It's the way he's slightly hunched over, his left hand clutching a wound that punctures his abdomen. He's bleeding. Everywhere. Staining the front of his sodden shirt, it drips onto the concrete between the cracks of his fingers.

"You a doctor?" His voice is gravel and strained as if he's holding onto his last string of life. His face is a ghastly shade of pale, uneven breaths escaping in chokes, and sweat collects on the hairline of his forehead.

"I'm–I'm a student." You answer, tripping over your own voice as he tightens his grip around his gun, his fingers trembling. For a brief moment, you consider if you should disarm him. Half of you want to help—to save a man on the brink of death, as you're training to do—but the other half remembers you're being held at gunpoint. If you try, you wonder if he's in enough pain that you can remove the weapon.

But something in his hardened gaze tells you to stay put. That his trigger finger is swifter than you'll ever be and he won't hesitate to waste a bullet.

Scoffing, as if the criteria of your resume isn't enough, he raises his arm where the barrel of the gun stares you down. Your heart skips several beats, palms growing sweaty at the implication that your lack of experience can be your end.

"I can help."

He doesn't answer, eyeing you with contempt. You're still wearing your blue scrubs, the clip of the badge hanging on your waist. You look official; a formal member of the medical faculty team. But, at the end of the day, you're still a student.

You refuse to let that be your downfall.

"I can save you," you argue, the timbre of your voice is sharp, passionate, and decisive. "Let me help."

The man says nothing. Silence stretches for the next few seconds, but it feels like decades before he makes a decision. He grabs your arm roughly, pulling you in front of him with the strength he shouldn't possess. With the gun pressed against your backside, right on your spine, he warns, "One word, one fucking scream, and I'll shoot you in the middle of the floor. Do you understand?"

You nod, swallowing the bile in your throat as you reenter the hospital, maneuvering through the floor with virtually little-to-no interactions. A blessing and a curse, the man finds an empty room and shoves you inside.

It's not a surgical suite, just a backroom with a bed and a couple of tools on a cart. You try to convince him to go to one of the rooms in the operation wing, but he refuses. When you continue to advocate, his hand grips the gun with a click—reminding you who has the power in the situation.

"Just fucking do it here," he snaps.

That's how you ended up operating on your first patient. He lays flat against the stiff hospital bed while you tear through his blood-soaked shirt, cleaning his marred skin, finding the source of the wound—a gunshot. It sits right on his ribcage, but the point of entry doesn't look like it slices through any important organs or arteries.

Despite his form, he continues to point the gun at you. His hands are steadier, but his eyes waver with each probe and poke of your tools. Your breathing is scarce, and uneven as you try to focus on the task at hand—but you can't, given the constant reminder that one wrong touch, one wrong move, can yield a tinge of pain that leaves him clamping down on the trigger.

"You can drop your gun now." You say offhandedly, trying to keep your composure and wits as you operate. "I'm not going to do anything."

He huffs, suspicion creasing his brows. "Not a chance."

"I'm saying it'll be better for you." You instruct, voicing your reason from a place of logic rather than a plight of fear. "You need to relax."

"I'll relax once you get this bullet out of me," he rasps, gripping the weapon tighter, as a child with a stuffed animal would after a hellish nightmare. Your eyes glance down at the gun, how it's aimed directly at your heart, before dropping back to his chest.

"You're not going to kill me."

He doesn't answer immediately. A pinch of fear surges through your veins before he says, "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I'm trying to save your life." You keep your voice steady, despite the low tremor rattling your chest. False confidence is the only thing keeping you going. "And I won't cause you harm. If I wanted to, I would've already."

Silence persists, and you take it as a chance to solidify your argument, from a humane perspective. "And I can't focus if you keep pointing that gun at me. I'll be more sloppy, and I don't want to take any chances when I barely have the right equipment as it is."

It sounds solid. At least, to your ears it does. But the man's grip on his gun doesn't waver under your advisement. You're almost certain he'll reject the idea, but when his hand slowly descends to the metal cart sitting beside him—the clank of metal-on-metal allows you to finally take a deep breath.

But before you can proceed, his now-free hand grabs your wrist. A yelp almost leaves you, but his bloodied nails dig into your skin. A warning gleams behind his gaze. "Just because I'm unarmed doesn't mean I can't kill you through other means."

You don't doubt it.

Nodding, you begin your operation. Heart thumping against your chest, you dig the forceps into the open wound, the squishing of flesh and blood fills the stillness of the room, and you navigate blindly through the gap till you graze a hard metal.

You inhale sharply, reminding yourself of your countless virtual practices, your shadowing of operations, your lucky days of standing beside certified surgeons as you hand them tools and witness the precise cut of their blade. All that training comes down to this very moment—to save yours and his life.

With a steady grip, you slowly exit, centimeter-by-centimeter, inch-by-inch, until the familiar glint of a metal gleans under the harsh operating light.

You drop the bullet, smeared with blood and a greenish hue, onto the plate next to the gun. Exhaling, you mechanically move to the next stage.

While you thread the needle through his delicate skin, closing the wound, your eyes glance down to his hands resting by his side. His knuckles are swollen and red, dried with dark blood. You can't stop yourself from asking, "What happened?"

His jaw tightens. "Why do you want to know?"

The words are sharp and harsh, a valiant attempt at shutting down any form of communication. But you persist. "I thought, since you're out of danger, you can at least explain—"

"I don't owe you shit," he barks, but this time, a hiss punctuates the end of his sentence, sending his head flying back against the bed as he grimaces through the pain and lack of anesthesia. His adrenaline must be wearing off.

Your jaw tenses, but not from his response but rather because of his reaction to his pain. Your sense of empathy has always been your weakness, especially since you're providing it to someone who held you at gunpoint and against your own will.

Deciding to redirect your focus, you're finishing the last thread of his stitching before he confesses, "Fight."

"Fight?" You echo wearily, refusing to lift your head and meet his gaze. You can already feel the heat of his stare. "Who won?"

He scoffs, but it comes out as a wheeze. "Don't be cute."

"I'm not trying to be—"

Your words are cut short by a sudden alarm blaring from the hallway. You jerk back, creating distance as you turn toward the small slanted window on the door, where flashes of men in uniforms run past.

Fear crashes into you as waves, and you turn back to the man as he turns to you—his dark blue eyes are hostile and cynical, and he regards you with the utmost suspicion.

"Who the fuck did you call?" He accuses.

Your eyes widen, "I didn't call anyone!"

"Liar."

With your erratic heartbeat in your ears, both of you glance down at the gun sitting idle on the cart. Before he even gets the chance to react, you snatch the weapon from the table, his nails grazing your hand a millisecond too late.

You push back against the opposite side of the room but because of the limited space, it does nothing to soothe the overwhelming adrenaline pulsing through your veins. Holding the gun with two hands, you direct it straight at his face.

Suspicion and doubt from both sides are at an all-time high.

He scoffs, unphased by your brave act. The gun between your hands is shaky, and your palms sweat against the heavy, smooth grip. The acknowledgment of holding something lethal between your fingertips. In his earnest attempt at getting you to give up the weapon, he mocks, "Can you even use that thing?"

You disengage the safety. "Try again."

His eyes widen, just a fraction, almost undetectable had you not been eyeing him carefully. His lips pressed together in a firm line, but almost as if you're imagining it—there's a look of intrigue.

The man pulls himself upright, shifting cautiously under the threat of your deadly aim, while his hand clutches the stitched wound. You didn't even get the chance to bandage him. It's a shame that your hard work could go to waste.

"Fucking liar."

"I didn't lie," you insist.

"The gun staring at me is making you look guilty."

"It isn't nice being on the receiving end, is it?"

His hardened features sharpen into a look of disdain, any imagination of curiosity disappears within seconds. Yet, you read into it. His eyes narrow, scrutinizing you as if you're prey to his predator, trying to gauge a formal assessment of your character. It isn't until he forces himself to look away, onto the door, that he contemplates his next plan of action.

It doesn't take a genius to decipher that the man is someone dangerous. Not just to you, but to the law. You regard his rigid posture, suggesting his uneasiness about the guards posted outside, barking orders to secure the grounds. He assumed you called the authorities, but that's far from the truth.

You didn't even have time to consider it.

Now, you're weighing all your options. If he disarms you, you'll be forced to submit to his will. That's not favorable. If he leaves without your help—which is unlikely—he'll be trotting through the halls, trying to build a cover and dodge the heightened security. That won't work either. And, if he escapes—there's no doubt he'll come back for vengeance. You can't have that either.

"The hospital is going into lockdown," you explain, keeping your gaze on his. "No one can come in and out that's not part of the staff."

He locks his jaw. One of your hands descends from the handle, moving to the pocket of your scrubs. "They're going to require a scan at each exit point, so you'll need a badge."

You remove the badge from your body, unraveling the clipper from the fabric. His darkened gaze follows while you slowly extend the tag—a peace offering of some sort.

His hand clenches by his side before his other hand reaches forward and snatches the badge from your grip. He takes his time examining the small plastic and the card inside, then lifts his head to meet your gaze with an unreadable expression. "Why?"

"I told you, I didn't call anyone," you say. "But I can tell you need to leave. I can get you out because I don't want any problems."

His breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling in unsteady beats. He doesn't say anything for the longest time, chipping away at the escape, before he drops from the bed and stands to his fullest height.

"I can't go out looking like this."

He's right. You practically shredded his shirt as you were trying to save his life. If he walks out, half-naked, barely stitched together with a bandage, regardless of the classified badge, they're going to question him.

Glancing around the room, you find a lab coat on a hook and throw it at him. He slips his arms through the long, white sleeves and covers himself up—looking presentable. Almost. If not for the light bruising on the side of his face, the swelling on his bottom lip, the swollenness of his knuckles, and the dried blood staining his fingertips.

But they won't look closely.

You think.

You back up as he steps forward, closer to the door. Peeking outside the hallway, when the coast is clear, he departs, clutching the badge in one hand and his wounded chest in the other.

It takes a few moments for it to pass, for you to truly grasp the gravity of your situation. When you finally do, you lower your aching arms, drop the gun back onto the metal cart, and exhale the largest sigh of relief.

—

It's been a week since the hospital incident.

You received a new badge, under the false pretense that you misplaced the last one, and you've been returning to a routine. You refuse to do overtime without a familiar acquaintance tagging along, and you've been catching rides from your peers from the hospital.

Afterward, the news disclosed a shootout that happened on the streets a couple blocks down from your workplace. Three people died, and the police are investigating the matter. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots of who shot who, and who walked out alive.

You've been busying yourself with life. From attending classes to producing research, to working late-night shifts at the hospital. It's been a ruthless cycle, that you've barely had time to breathe.

Walking home from one of the nearby cafes, where you're studying for your upcoming exams, you take a short stroll to your apartment. It's getting late; most of the street parking is taken, few people linger on the sidewalk, and the street lamps cast a soft glow against the brownstone of the apartment complexes.

This is a safer neighborhood, much more than your place of work. The crime rate is relatively lower, but that doesn't stop you from being on edge. Especially with your recent incident. You're cautious of your surroundings, checking every little shadow, and listening out for heavy footfalls. Your paranoia reaches its all-time high.

But nothing happens. Not today, not yesterday, and certainly not tomorrow. You turn the corner to your building, the familiar shade of your apartment allows you to catch a breath of fresh air.

Until you hear the familiar click, followed by the hard kiss of metal pressing against the base of your skull.

All the hair stands up. Your nerves are humming with fear. And you pray it's different, it's new, but your wishes are shattered the moment the gruff, harsh voice greets you, his mouth against your ear.

"Miss me?"

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

[reidssluttywaist]

Spencer's lap.

In which you grind against your boyfriend.

fem!reader, season 2 Spencer, +16.

tags: dry humping, a little bit of dirtytalk.

a/n: guys this is so bad I've never written smut before but i had this idea while rewatching season 2 and tried something, this must have a bunch of mistakes and it's not proofread at all, also if anyone wants to rewrite this better please message me lol.

You never thought you'd have to sit for a physics class ever again since you left high school, and here you are, a half hour into your boyfriend explaining very throughly to you how he can make a rocket with 'physics magic', he also made you swear you would never tell his tricks to anybody, 'cause a magician never shares his secrets, right?!

Except you didn't get sleepy like you did in high school, you never paid that much attention to physics since now, the way Spencer's smile explains every detail, the giggle he lets out as he rumbles about different facts of all the physics laws, you're amazed by how happy he is, how his brain is extraordinary.

Hearing his humbles is better than any music you could think of, and paired with the soft sound of the rain falling outside Spencer's place, you feel so cozy and safe.

You and Spencer have been together for a couple of months now, he is your first real boyfriend, both of you are inexperienced in every single part of being in a relationship, sometimes the feeling of love you feel towards him overwhelms you, almost leaving you out of breath, you can't believe how good it is to love somebody, how god it is to love Spencer.

"Wow, that one might be your best! Look how high it went" you said after his most recent "rocket" made its way to the ceiling, Spencer smiling so big and laughing, making you laugh as well.

"Did you see that? I think I've perfected my measurements it's so high!!" Spencer says with a high-pitched voice, too excited to contain himself.

"The only bad thing about this is that you have to clean this mess up" You make a sad face, looking at the place that has little bits of water splashed all over.

"Nah, it's fine! It'll dry out soon enough" he says pretending that he doesn't care about the mess, except he does.

"C'mon, I'll help you clean and make us some dinner after, ok?!" You get up from your side of the couch, and hold Spencer's hand, trying to pull him up.

"I don't wanna get up now, it can wait," He says seriously, you can almost believe him.

You try pushing him up again, but this time he pulls you against him, being more successful than you do you end up falling onto him, sitting on his lap facing him.

"I said it can wait, I can clean up later, ok? I wanna spend some time with you now." He said holding your waist and looking at you.

You've never been on his lap before, you guys make out now and then, but never in that suggestive of a position, and Spencer never makes the first move like that, you feel your stomach filling with butterflies.

"You look so good with your glasses on" You blurt it out looking at him, analyzing his face as he looks at you.

"Can I kiss you?" Spencer says, you don't need words to respond as you press your lips onto his, starting a gentle kiss.

You'll never get accustomed to kissing Spencer, his soft lips, he's so gentle almost like he's afraid you'll run away if he makes any sudden moves, little does he know you won't, you'd never run away from him you feel like you could never get enough from him.

The kiss was now way more intense, your tongue exploring his, his grip on your waist a lot tighter now, one of his hands let go of your waist and made its way to the back of your neck, making you let out a soft moan into Spencer's mouth, making his body shiver under you.

Your hips start slightly moving over Spencer's thigh, the light friction making you want more.

Spencer was breathing heavily, and you could also feel him growing against your leg, he pulled you harder against him, adjusting your cunt to be right on top of his cock, applying pressure to your hips, you moan again, and you could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

"Spence, wanna feel you." You say in between kisses, making him whimper and push you harder against him.

"Fuck" he swears under his breath, both of his hands going to the waistband of the sweatpants you were wearing. "That okay?" he asks.

"Yes, please." You've never agreed to something so fast in your life, helping him take your pants away, after a few seconds of struggling you were back to kissing him like your life depended on it.

"C-can I take yours?" you whisper, almost scared to say it, he agrees by guiding your hand to his waistband, also helping you take his pants now, you were both only with underwear now, not even bothering to take your tops off, you went back to humping him, your thin underwear fabric soaked.

Spencer's shaky hands made their way onto your shirt, both of them massing your breasts, making noises come out of your mouth and the man under you groan.

"N-need more, Spence." You say grinding your hips harder against him, and bring your hands to his underwear pushing it down just enough so his cock is free.

You start to use your hands on him, slow up and down movements just enough so he can't even keep his eyes open.

"Want your pussy, please, wanna feel you" Spencer mumbles taking your hands off his cock, his hand going to your panties and ripping them out.

That made you gasp, making your pussy even more wet.

Spencer positioned you on his cock, which was resting on his stomach, you started moving your hips up and down, both of you moaning even louder now.

"You feel so warm, baby, you're so wet for me," He says, looking at where your bodies are rubbing against each other, he looks mesmerized by this sight, mouth slightly opened as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you shiver.

Spencer never dirty talked like that before, you could see the blush on his cheeks as he did, this new side of him making your mind blurry and a not start to form on your stomach.

"I'm so close," he says, biting his lips as you try to move even harder for him.

"N-eed more, please, your fingers," you say and he immediately knows what you mean, taking one of his hands out of your hips and bringing it to your pussy, his thumb finding your clit with ease, start moving it in circles making you let out a loud moan.

"Fuck" You let out, not able to keep your eyes open.

"Can you cum for me? Please baby wanna see your pretty face as you fuck yourself on me." Spencer says, that added with his movements in your clit make your mind fuzzy, you felt the heat on your stomach spread to your legs and your body starts to shake, releasing all the tension you were feeling.

"Oh, you're so pretty like that, so pretty when you cum for me," Spencer says, helping you ride out your climax, you were so sensitive by the recent orgasms but you started to move your hips harder and faster on Spencer's cock.

He bites his lips and you feel him grip your ass, his glasses were blurry and it was so hot that he didn't take him out.

He groaned when you felt his dick twit under you, you helped him through his orgasm, kissing him when you were both done, his hands when to your back caressing it, slowly moving up and down.

"That was so good" He whispers to you.

"A dirty talker, huh?! Who would've thought?" you joke, making him laugh.

"Most men are dirty talkers so it's not that uncommon" he rumbles.

He switched up to nerdy Spencer again, making you smile.

You spend a couple more minutes just talking before getting up, you make sure to point all that he must buy you a new pair of panties to pay for the one he ripped, he agrees, saying he would buy more than one because "you'll never know what might happen, right?"

[rimatsu]

After apologies and accusations and nippy words and even more apologies comes the time for honesty. They talk for so long Tommy’s voice dissolves at the edges, a pharyngeal crackle seeping into his confessions. Candor feels a lot like being cored. He sits on Evan’s couch split in half like a pomegranate, red viscera exposed — peeled open for examination. For six months, he had only offered tiny morsels of himself, weighed bites meant to appease hunger and not satiate, but Evan has grown gluttonous in their time apart. Tommy is made to dig past the last vestiges of self-preservation and unearth everything he’d kept buried, exhuming skeletons and old hurt from the ground.

It's exhausting to the bone.

"I feel like I got hit by a bus," Tommy says once a hush of silence settles over the loft, rubbing the heel of his palm over a brow.

Evan smiles at him, and it's a touch rueful. "That's what happens when you condense half-a-year's worth of talking into 3 hours," he reasons, although not unkindly.

Silence eats away at the oxygen again until Evan reaches for Tommy's hand, thumb pressing into the blue rivers of his veins. Surely he can feel Tommy's pulse go seismic at the touch.

"We don't have to rush into anything," Evan starts, tentative and placating like he's speaking to a sighted animal. "I— I'll try to rein it in, go slow."

Bless his heart, Tommy thinks, because he sounds like he believes it. Evan isn't capable of slow. He can do undefined, he can even do superficial, but he's not wired for measured steps — his long legs are more suited for a gallop than a trot. Tommy knew that much by the second date. The absence of moderation had charmed and scared him in equal measure, drawn to it like moth to a flame until he realized he'd have to carry indelible burn scars like relics to his grave.

Tommy is under no illusion, but he gives a terse nod anyway, and then he watches as Evan’s lips part around an inhalation. It's that bolstering little intake of breath that precedes the big questions — the same one Evan took before inviting him to his sister's wedding, the same one he took before asking Tommy to move in with him.

He stares at Evan’s expanding diaphragm and braces himself for impact.

"But I can't— I can't do aimless either, Tommy," Evan barrels on, and squeezes at his wrist like he's holding Tommy in place so he can't physically recoil from his words. "I need to know we're walking in the same direction." Evan pauses for a heartbeat, and when he speaks again, conviction has steeled the timbre of his voice: "I want serious down the line. I want a life together, a shared home, a ring on my finger. Kids, the whole shebang," he continues, firm, no stammering in sight, like he's daring Tommy to dispute any of it again.

His eyes reflect the light overhead like glistening jewels. Their magnetic pull is as strong as the magnitude of Tommy's fears, powerful enough that he's considering living in communion with worry. Tommy swallows around the lump in his throat and pushes down the instinctive urge to run for the windows like the building is at flashover.

"There's no guarantee we'll make it far," he warns, because it bears repeating.

"No, there isn't," Evan agrees, like uncertainty isn't frightening or paralyzing. He's terrifying. "But if you're not gonna try anyway, if you're not buying what I'm selling, you might as well walk out now and spare us both the trouble."

Coming back is allowing Evan to become somatically essential the way an aortic valve is vital — it's giving him the power to deal a finishing blow with no warranty certificate. Tommy has flown through warzones, has dismantled and mended himself back into new shapes, has let fire lick at him and smoke suffocate him, but knocking on Evan’s door again might be the bravest thing he's ever done.

He takes a fortifying breath of his own and then surrenders to a mathematical probability.

"Yeah, I can do trying," he says, and it's a meagre offering — certainly not the type of reassurance that would reassure him, but it's everything Tommy has to give, amorphous and fragile but no less true.

Evan is more benevolent than him, anyway.

"Okay," he accepts, mercy shining in the blue of his irises. "That's good enough for now."

[catboybiologist]

I'm 3.5 months in progesterone. Did it make my boobs grow? Let's look at some data!

So. This data has problems, of course. I've added disclaimers at the bottom. This isn't science, this is personal curiosity.

But anyways.

My HRT progress has been in three distinct stages:

1, sublingual pills, with on and off spiro. Suppressed T, E struggling to get up. Month 0-7

2, Injections, no progesterone. E goes to appropriate levels very quickly and fluctuates within cis female ranges. Month 7-13.

3, all that plus progesterone. Month 13-16 (current).

For the purposes of simplicity, lets look at breast growth only.

Let's take a look at some of those sublingual numbers:

All in freedom units, bc I hate myself.

I mean hey, not bad! There was absolutely some growth and breast bud formation as well. I pretty clearly got to tanner 2 here. But there's an obvious, clear plateau in growth. We can see it graphically as well:

Ignore the blue line, that's different data (waist:hip)

So what broke the plateau? Well.

The blue measurements are taken when I'm on injections and good levels, and the green one is as well (it was my progesterone start date). Apologies for the data jumping around, there were gaps. Also worth noting that I was ~20 pounds lighter on that final measurement.

So after plateauing with sublingual, my E around 100, the only thing that broke through that barrier was dropping spiro, switching to injections, and keeping my E at 200-400.

It is at this point I added progesterone (data in green).

holy FUCK

I genuinely would not have believed it myself if I didn't have pictures, as well as measuring myself now, and also y'know. Lived all of this.

Lets see that graph, shall we?

You can so clearly see the three stages here. The sublingual plateau, the injection bump upwards, and the progesterone fucking moon rocket. The gap in data is when I was backpacking- on injections, no prog. I think the drop in my W:H is also because of the weight I was losing.

Also yes, linear regression is kinda stupid here. I was just curious.

Anyways. I think I might be plateauing again, just based on how my breasts have felt a little less sensitive recently, which is also what happened on my sublingual plateau. But its absolutely wild to see what progesterone (probably) did in such a short time.

So in conclusion:

Yes. Absolutely. And so did injections, and proper levels.

When I encourage people to take an active role in their transition, this is what I mean. Keep track of your levels. If you're plateauing, think about what might be happening. Make sure to coordinate closely with your doctor. Amazing things can happen because of it.

Disclaimers and admissions of data sloppiness below:

This data is sloppy, and rounded to the nearest half inch most of the time. I've also fudged it based on what I reasonably thought was error in retrospect- eg, at one point I thought my underbust had shrunk a tiny bit due to variation in fat and coastal cartilage, but it's all just flickering between 35.5 and 36", so I just put it all at 36 bc that's likely more accurate.

The measurements don't really cleanly correspond to clothing measurements- I've been doing it wrong since the beginning, and kept doing it wrong for consistency. don't infer my cup size based on this lol. This is for internal comparison and trends.

The rounding also makes it more susceptible to "jumping", and there's several instances where a rounded down data point to a rounded up data point makes a more dramatic leap than it would in practice.

And of course, I'm measuring myself, this is one data set, yadda yadda. It's gonna be sloppy.

But yeah. The trends are clear enough that I hope they can be taken as trends at least, even if they're not exact numbers.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

Dune: Prophecy episode 1 thoughts, tried to keep it vague to avoid major spoilers:

Wow there is a lot of exposition. Like a LOT of exposition, especially in the first 10-15 minutes when we're not invested in any of the characters yet. I hope this is a first episode problem.

Ah they went the coward's route and used "Great Machine War" instead of "Butlerian Jihad."

There's an interesting "history is written by the victors" thread there right from the beginning that I hope they pull on some more.

I love how they did the Voice, which appears early in the episode, because both the actor's performance and the sound design of it are slightly different from the films. It really feels/sounds like the character using it is straining to access a new and unfamiliar power, in contrast to the effortless, overwhelming assertion of control it comes across as in the films.

Salusa Secundus looks so green and lush in comparison to how it looks at the time of the films.

I realize this is probably an unfair complaint for something made on a TV budget (even an HBO TV budget), but imo the production design doesn't quite measure up to the films. I think the best work is on the props. The key to the genetic index room, the little slides that Valya and Tula are looking at with students' info on them, the Emperor's projection table--those all look great and have that feeling of "future filtered through the past" that I think is key to the Dune aesthetic. Many of the location exteriors are gorgeous, too. Some of the interior sets are quite striking and others are underwhelming. The costumes are...mid imo; there are some beautiful elements and others that look too identifiably modern. Including Princess Ynez's red gown unfortunately which looks like a department store prom dress. I realize it's a high bar--the films were really really good at making everything look both futuristic and ancient, layered and textured--but you do notice the difference.

So! Many! Women! Pretty racially diverse casting too. But also omg so many characters and I already forget half their names. I'm gonna need Dune: Facebook for the next episode.

Emily Watson and Olivia Williams are already very compelling, even if you don't quite know their characters' full agendas yet. Heckin ready for some Machiavellian women scheming.

Love some of the more fucked up shit that just slides by and the information it gives you about the world. Adult (? idk maybe she's supposed to be in her late teens) woman getting engaged to a 9-year-old. Practicing Truthsaying on prisoners, some of whom have fresh bruises on their faces.

Arrakis is...the same. This one is honestly fucking me up. I know time scales in Dune are absurd and really kind of incomprehensible in comparison to real Earth history but can you imagine your home being passed around various imperialist powers for resource extraction for ten thousand years?? FOUR HUNDRED GENERATIONS. 80 years of Harkonnen rule seems like nothing. We're talking about whole eras of colonial control and resistance here. Like damn. No wonder so many Fremen have come to believe that only a messiah can save them. Imagine being someone like Chani and feeling the legacy of not decades or even centuries but millennia of struggle on your shoulders. It is gonna take me a while to fully absorb this one. Holy fuck.

Travis Fimmel's character has an...ability that we haven't seen in the Dune universe before and I'm super curious to see where they're gonna go with that.

Overall it feels like this episode was mostly setup but there's a lot of potential? Like there are a lot of potential threads that could develop into something cool and twisty and interesting. I'm not sure where any of it is going yet but I'm ready to find out.

[seospicybin]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

PART I

Felix x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist

Synopsis: You and Felix become contestants in a reality dating show, Too Hot To Handle. (15,4k words)

Author's note: It's kind of experimental turning this into a fanfic but hope you enjoy it. Part II will be out next week x

Content warning: This is entirely a work of fiction and not affiliated with real Too Hot To Handle show.

YOU: I think physical appearance is not that important. It's all about confidence. [flips hair] I think all women should carry their self with confidence, stand tall, and always strive to be better. 

But when you look at me, I'm pretty much a smoke show [laughs] I'd date myself if I could [laughs]

My ideal type is someone with a distinct charm. I'd love to see a tattoo or two on a man and someone who knows how to keep it exciting, cause I get bored easily [blows kisses to the camera]

-

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

That's why you accept your cousin's offer in exchange for money that would save you from getting kicked out of your apartment and from dropping out of college.

She was in a desperate time too when she reached out to you as one of the contestants decided to drop out of the reality show she worked in as the casting director.

Guess desperate times reached out to each other.

But you, as a nobody with less than a hundred followers on Instagram and you believe half of them are bots, have no experience of being in front of the camera, doubting that you'll do well in it.

Other than that, you think reality shows are just a waste of time, they have no educational value but dumb people down.

But what option do you have? You're broke, jobless, and a week away from being homeless when the offer came.

"What's the reality show about again?" You ask your cousin, Sara.

She rolls her eyes at you, it's probably the umpteenth time you asked her about it again. "It's on the description."

It's on the pile of papers she gave you but you're too lazy to read that many pages written in small fonts with single spaces.

You have to bring it close to your face to read it.

A group of determined singles visit paradise to meet, mingle, and remain celibate for their chance to win $200,000.

"So..." you stop reading after seeing the amount of money you can win from it, "it's basically a dating show."

"Yes," she answers, "but... you will not be allowed to kiss or touch or have sex."

"Oh, thank God!" You let out a long sigh of relief.

Yes, you need the money but knowing that you don't have to do such things for a reality show makes you feel relieved. At least when one of your peers knows, you wouldn't have to be embarrassed about it. You can say you did it for the experience, but spare the part that you did it for quick money.

Another question pops into your head, "But then... how are we going to date each other if we're not allowed to kiss or touch and whatnot?" 

Sara smiles at you, "See? That's the catch!"

She gets all excited in a second, "you have to resist each other from going at it," she further explains as her eyes turn a little loopy.

"Oh, so they'll be sex in it?"

She chuckles, "Maybe yes. Maybe not. Who knows?"

That's a vague answer and you still don't get how she would make money from making a reality show but doubtfully giving people what they want.

It's not like you're in it to actually find someone to date. You agree to join because she promised you more money once the shooting is done.

You're going to stay at a gorgeous villa on an island with a few people and try not to be in each other's pants, which is not what you intend to do in the first place.

What's so hard about it anyway? 

-

Wow!

You might have missed the part that you have to be dressed in provocative swimwear and show as much skin as possible in the papers Sara gave you.

However, there's this one motto that always works to make you through the day.

Fake it till you make it and you have no other option but to fake it.

Your hair is styled into loose waves to make it look like you've been spending time at the beach and thankfully, you're allowed to do your own make-up. You put on a simple one, put a little blush on your cheek, and a layer of shiny gloss over your lips.

You changed into a two-piece bikini and look at yourself in the mirror.

Damn, you don't even have to fake it anymore. You look hot and you think that's why they still passed you as a contestant despite knowing that Sara is a relative of yours.

The first segment of the reality show is contestants entering the villa one by one, but in your case, you have to do it with another gorgeous girl.

"I'm Maeve," she introduced herself in a cute Irish accent.

You might or might have not just checked her out from head to toe before shaking her hand back to introduce yourself back.

You're taller than her but that's what makes her cute. She has that pretty dirty blonde hair and a nice smile, exuding a very positive vibe. You like her already.

The staff gives you the cue to start walking into the gravel path that leads to the villa while the cameras take you from every angle possible to capture your best features.

By best features, you mean your breasts and boobs, anything that possibly makes people think that's how a perfect body should be.

You are against female objectification but again, what other choice do you have? Giving up your principles just so you can live another day in this capitalist world.

Cheers welcoming both of you as the other contestants that have made their entrance before you, watching you step into the scene.

You can feel their eyes on you, either in envy or lust or things in between. You introduce yourself around with hugs and kisses, which is not how you usually introduce yourself.

Once they handed you a welcome drink which is a glass of warm champagne from being under the sun too long, it's when you see each one of them better.

Your confidence deflates in an instant because they're all way hotter and sexier than you. They look good in their bikinis and their hair is perfectly tousled like they rolled out of bed looking that gorgeous.

You're not just talking about the female contestants, the male too are incredibly stunning, their abs are on display since they're only wearing swimming trunks, their skins glowing under the sun.

You find yourself fanning your neck just from stealing glances at it.

"Hot, huh?" The other girl asks you, one with a perfect bone structure and full lips.

You lightly chuckle, "Everyone in here is hot," you carefully with what you said, aware that a mic is attached to your body.

"I know right?" She says with a flirty smile.

After a moment, you learn her name is Laura and she's the epitome of a hot girl. She has the perfect hair, perfect body, perfect nails, and even the way her hair parted is perfectly in the middle. Other than that, Laura, like other pretty girls, has it easy in her life, she's a social media influencer with 300k-something followers and said she's here for 'shit and giggles', her words, not yours.

A lot more male contestants enter the villa and everyone refills their champagne flutes as the temperature raises. You can't tell if it's because you're so close to the beach or there's just a lot of heat in here, or it could be that you're panicking inside and try not to show it.

Your cousin Sara is wrong about one thing.

There's not just one catch, they're all a catch and you can't do anything about them.

-

YOU: I feel like I'm in an ice cream shop and they have all of my favorite flavors. Vanilla, chocolate, salted caramels, cookies, and cream... [bites thumb] I just can't wait to have a scoop of each flavor [chuckles]

-

After the introduction and draining six bottles of champagne in the process, everyone is allowed to explore the place, get familiar with each other, and mingle.

Well, of course, you have to do your part, be flirty with them but you don't intend to go into that yet. Not when your confidence level is at its lowest that you can't even fake it anymore.

You sit by the lounge chair by the beach, enjoying the view of the beach while trying to ignore all the cameras filming you.

One of the cameramen suddenly got closer to get an angle when you notice that one of the male contestants is coming to the beach and you see no one else there but you.

Suddenly, you feel alarmed, immediately check your appearance, and got you wondering why that is your first reaction. This never happens in real life.

"Hi," he says, sitting on the other lounge chair next to you.

You raise yourself from the longue chair, supporting the back of your head with a cushion.

"Hi," you finally say back, trying to sound calm yet sultry like how Laura speaks.

You notice that he speaks in an accent that you can't quite decipher its origin, "may I know what accent is that?"

"It's French, but I do speak German as well," he says.

"And English," you point out.

He chuckles, "That too!"

"I learn that everyone has an exotic accent while I'm here with the most basic accent," you say and it surprises you how well you're doing at being an obnoxious reality show star.

He smiles, showing his perfectly good teeth, "Nah, I think you're cute."

And surprises yourself again at how receptive you are, smiling at his compliment. You laugh to yourself as you try to remember his name, everyone introduced themselves too quickly earlier and gave you no time to memorize them.

"I'm sorry. What's your name again?"

"Alex," he says, taking another step towards you as if he wasn't standing close enough.

Alex is super tall, super attractive, muscles in all the right places and you have never cared about such things in a man before. Alex has nice brown skin and soft curly hair, he's charming in a way that subtly grows in you.

"Well, Alex, how come you're so tall?" You playfully ask him, holding your champagne flute close to your face.

"I play basketball," he answers.

You click your tongue in awe and at the same time, feel afraid that Alex has raised your standards of men to a whole new level.

-

YOU: Alex is hot. Isn't that obvious? That French accent ooh... [whistles] and he plays basketball. He's like a tall glass of water and I'm super thirsty.

-

He's hot, he's tall, he speaks three languages, and he also plays sports. What else can he do? You wonder...

"What about you?" He asks.

You think for a moment, "Well, I only speak English," you answer with giggles.

He leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees, looking at you with an intense stare.

"I can speak cat language too if that counts," you add.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "So you're a cat person, huh?"

"Yes, I am."

"I see..." he says, looking at you with an even more intense stare, "you like to be spoiled, huh?"

You turn to lay on your side to show him the curve of your body and bite your lower lip as you bravely stare back at him, "who doesn't like to be spoiled?"

Alex licks his lip as you catch him glancing at your lips, he thought of kissing you for sure but has no idea what stops him.

"What animal person are you?" You ask as the conversation starts to dry up.

He props a hand under his chin, "Why don't you guess?"

You tap your lips with your index finger to subtly tease him, "A puma?" You wildly guess.

He laughs, "Why?"

"I got the impression that you're wild, can't be tamed," you say whatever it is crossed your head at that moment.

You don't think Alex would care anyway with what you're saying because all he can think about is whether he should kiss you or not.

"Am I right? Or am I not wrong?" You dare him by closing the gap a few inches short.

Yet he remains in his seat and you're getting bored of waiting already. You retreat from keeping this going and sit up on the longue chair.

"I think I have to start getting ready for the party," you excuse yourself.

You're not proud that you're back to being such a bitch who plays with men but gosh, something about this reality show that brings out the bad girl in you.

-

YOU: Perhaps it's too early for him to get his move on someone. I think he wants to keep his options open and that's what I'm doing as well, I want to get to know a few of them and see if I... uh can have some fun.

-

The males are already waiting at the beach for the party.

The females are taking longer time to get ready because there is so much to do, hair, make-up and even putting fake acrylic nails.

You have lived as a woman for twenty-three years but only realized now how exhausting it is to be one. Not that you don't like it but people oftentimes don't give women enough credit for it.

"Come here, you sexy!" One of the males says.

Wow. What a way to impress a woman!

Everyone is sitting on the benches set around a bonfire and drinking cocktails with umbrellas in them, sipping and talking, checking each other out in secret or not so secret

A player recognizes another player so there's no use for all contestants to play naive, pretending that they're just here to sit around bonfire and make friends.

Everyone knows that they're here to get wild and becomes famous by doing it on a reality show. Except you thought, you don't want to go that far.

"Icebreaker time!" Says the girl with brunette hair and rosy cheeks. You believe her name is Heidi.

"Each one of us will take turns to stand in the middle with a blindfold on and anyone can do anything to that person. In the end, they have to guess who did it," she explains but more like babbling around the words while seductively chuckling in between words.

You don't get what she's saying but try to learn the game by watching as she takes the first turn to set an example. Heidi is a total babe, it's impossible if no one wants to have a piece of her.

A male comes up to her and has a deep kiss that put everyone to shame. One look and you can tell that it's one hell of a kiss. You sip the drink you've been holding in your hand.

Your heart is drumming the closer it gets to your turn, afraid that someone does things with you but it would be more embarrassing if no one does things with you.

So far, everyone at least has a kiss or a smooch, Laura even lets a guy touch her ample bosoms. You haven't made a move yet and it's kind of a requirement that you show your wild side because that's the idea of the show.

It's Jamie or that's what you remember his name is. He's taking his turn and putting a blindfold on, he looks gorgeous wearing a white shirt and short pants.

Jamie has glowing tan skin and six-pack abs, his hair must have skipped months of a haircut but rocking it all right. He keeps brushing his hair to the back, knowing that it looks better when it's messy.

You take a glance at everyone and none of them seem to make a move on him, impulsively, you get up from the stool and come up to him.

It's when you stand in front of him you have no idea what to do with him or more like, you have tons of ideas of what you want to do but can't choose one.

Everyone else is watching from their seats in anticipation, you shut down your brain from thinking and just go with it. You stand on your tiptoe and kiss him on the neck, covering your lips once you're done to not give him any clue that it's you who kissed him.

You run back to your seat and see what his reaction is once he takes his blindfold off. Next, Jamie has to guess who is it and to avoid looking suspicious, you calmly sip your drink and watch him guess who did it.

After taking too much time observing, he gives up, "I don't know. But whoever it is, I kind of want more," he says.

You try to remain calm and take another sip, looking anywhere but not in his direction.

It's finally your turn, your heart is beating faster and you wonder if the audio guy can hear it too with the mic resting around your neck.

Taking a quiet deep breath, you tie the blindfold over your eyes and around your head. You can only hope for the best now and block every insecurity that tries to reside in your head.

"Ooh..." everyone coos in unison and that only means someone is coming or about to do things to you.

Nervous, you clench and unclench your fists to calm yourself. Then a pair of hands gently cup your face and tilts your head upward.

Not ready for it, this mysterious person kisses your open mouth and proceeds to kiss you more, using his tongue in the most pleasurable way to taste you.

Damn! He's a good kisser and you reflexively respond to his kisses with your hands holding theirs. For a split second, you forget that you're in the middle of shooting a reality show and everyone is going to watch it.

You gasp the second they let go and have you fixing your lipstick because there's no way that phenomenal kiss not smudging it.

"Whoa. Can barely think after that kiss," you shamelessly tell everyone as you act drunk as you walk back to your seat.

Sipping your drink, you secretly assess everyone and try to guess which one of them kissed you. They're all hot anyway, it's not a loss to kiss one of them and you didn't know why you were fussing about it earlier.

Since Laura is taking the last turn and everyone seems to be whipped by her, you can see that all the male contestants anticipated this. You bet they're lining up to get a kiss from her.

It takes only a few seconds for anyone to make a move, the first one to have it is Daniel with half of his body covered in tattoos. He has a lean body and that bad boy attitude, he confidently strides to kiss Laura on the lips, so hard that she gasps in surprise.

You find yourself clapping at two people doing lewd things in front of a group of people. When you think Daniel is the only one succeeding in having a piece of Laura, another one takes his turn.

You almost scoff seeing Alex holds her by the neck and kisses her so deeply. Instant turn off, all those charms he has seems to be wiped off your head in a second.

-

YOU: Well, now we all know why Alex didn't kiss me [laughs] He likes someone else and that's good, I'll stop chasing him from here [sucks air through teeth] and on to the next one! [Raises hand triumphantly]

-

Moving on to the next segment, you prepare yourself for your act.

Sara is nice enough to let you know what the show is really about. When you ask everyone else, they believe that they're on a dating show and are here for partying and having fun and such.

Well, until... the cone-shaped talking pops out of its hiding and stops the party and the fun altogether.

"Hi, I'm Lana, and welcome to Too Hot Too Handle!"

Everyone stops talking and turns serious while deep inside you will find pleasure from their pain.

"You have been specially selected because you are all choosing meaningless sex over genuine relationships."

"That's true, though!" One of the males says and the other chuckles along.

"The purpose of this retreat is to help you gain deeper emotional connections in your personal relationships."

Daniel seems to be taking the news badly, "I'm not here for that!" He comments.

"As always, there are conditions to your stay here. You must abstain from sexual practices for the entirety of your stay."

Everyone is groaning in frustration, covering their eyes as if not having sex will make them die.

"No kissing. No heavy petting. And no sex of any kind."

More groans are spilling out of everyone's mouth.

"This also applies to self-gratification."

Wait! You didn't know that you'll not be allowed to touch yourself. Your body and you can't do anything about it.

-

YOU: The second I saw Lana, I know it's bad. But I didn't know it's that bad. Can't even touch myself? What?

-

"However, to aid your development, I've increased the prize fund to $200.000."

That one gets everyone hyped and jumping in excitement, including you. Thinking of that much money, you can shrug all your financial problems away. 

"Each time the rules are broken, money will be deducted from the prize fund."

But this one gets you down immediately, there's a possibility that no money will be left with all these horny people locked in a villa together.

"Everyone, welcome to the retreat!"

"Ugh!"

-

YOU: Everyone is pissed off, including me. But you know, something about being told not to do something only makes me want to do it [bites lip]

-

No, you're not pissed off about it. Sex is something you can easily avoid doing, you just need to keep it in your pants and that's what you're going to do.

You want the prize so much and want to put your focus solely on that.

"How do you feel, babe?" Maeve asks while putting her wavy hair into a messy bun.

You're cleaning up your make-up with her with Heidi in the room, "I'm super bummed!" You lie.

"I'm here to have fun so... I'll continue to do that," Heidi eggs on the conversation.

Maeve nods in agreement, "Right!"

Going to the bedroom, you see the next struggle and that is choosing your bed. A few of them have chosen partners to share the bed with. You don't want to choose yet so you nudge Maeve's elbow, "Want to share a bed?"

She smiles at you, "I thought you'd never ask," she answers.

Everyone else is on the bed and you look around, catching someone staring at you from across your bed. It's Jamie.

"It's you," he points at you.

You raise an eyebrow at him and mouthed, "What?"

He turns his head to the side and shows his neck, "the kiss."

Instead of answering, you slump down the bed and giggle behind the duvet. You bet he can tell from the color of the lipstick mark.

However, from all the males you see, you can't guess yet which one of them kissed you. Alex can't be it, he's sharing the bed with Laura and looking comfortable there.

That leaves Jamie, Daniel, Cole, and Felix. It could be Jamie but...

"Goodnight, babe!" Maeve says as the lights are turned off for the night.

"Night, beautiful!" You greet back and you silently thank her for stopping you to think about boys when you should be thinking about the money.

Eyes on the prize.

-

The first day and you wake up feeling so disoriented. It's the timezone, the weather, and the blinding sun that greets you the moment you get out of the bedroom.

They provide swimwear in the closet for everyone to wear besides your own clothes. You pick a pair and put on your make-up after with Laura and Alex, not sure if either of them is trying to make you jealous.

It's the first day of the rules applied and you already need to remind yourself of the prize fund.

"Who do you like?" You curiously ask Maeve as you're in the pool together with Jamie.

"I like Felix," She answers without a beat.

It's an obvious answer. If this show has two main characters they would be Laura and Felix. The males go for Laura and the females for Felix. You haven't had time to speak to Felix in person then again, everyone in here is attractive. 

"I think he's just so hot and cute," Maeve adds.

Jamie splashes her with water, "you're blushing!"

Maeve giggles and splashes water back at him, "what about you? What is your type?"

You didn't expect she'll turn the table at you and that you're like a rabbit about to get hit by a car.

"Come on, you can say it. Brunette with a British accent, nice smile, nice hair," Jamie playfully says with a grin at you.

Maeve chuckles then comments, "I think you two look cute together!"

-

YOU: I think Jamie is cute, he's a goofball. We share a vibe and he always smells so good [laughs] I can't say anything yet but yeah, let's see.

-

There are five males and five females, everyone can pair up and be a couple but things don't work out that way. There are so many things to consider like chemistry and connection, etcetera. However, you believe everyone is just waiting for someone to break the rules to go further.

That seems to be plausible with Lana throwing a party tonight.

"We're matching!" Jamie says.

You chuckle seeing that the only matching thing you have with him is the color of the pants you're wearing.

"You look beautiful," he compliments.

You tease him by jutting your ass at him and looking over your shoulder while batting your eyes at him, "Thank you!"

Doesn't want to be tempted, he turns your body around and puts his arm around you to lounging outside. You bet that he will use the opportunity to tell you about his intention.

You haven't been in relationships for so long that you forget how nerve-wracking it is.

"Cheers!"

"Cheers!" You clink your glass with him before taking a sip.

The sky is so pretty and clear tonight that you can see the stars like pinpricks on the night sky. The breeze is warm and salty, it's not good for your hair, you spent almost an hour straightening your hair and it's ruined in ten minutes.

"So do you have anyone you like?" Jamie asks.

You put your glass away and shake your head, "Nah, not yet."

He stares deeply into your eyes, "well, I like you," he suddenly admits.

"Like it isn't obvious," you jokingly say.

He laughs and licks his lips which makes you glance at his lips, it's round and full, glistening wet. You look away before it gets too creepy.

"You're gorgeous and easygoing and so fun to be around," he starts by complimenting you.

You don't know how he can have that conclusion when you only know each other for one day, you go along with him and nod, "Yeah, I agree."

He shifts on the seat and leans in close, putting his arm on the back of your head, "You're the first that caught my eyes when I came."

It's hard to know if Jamie said that in all honesty or to merely impress you. You saw how Alex jumped from one girl to another in a span of a few hours so you can't just trust his words.

Remember that they're all here for a reason, they're horny and emotionally unavailable. Sadly, that's what your types are for the last few months.

"I was hoping you'd compliment me more," you joke.

He throws his head back as he cracks a laugh, "I think it's your time to compliment me back."

You fold your legs on the sofa and put a cushion on your lap to play with the lint to keep your brain stimulated, to prevent you from zoning out midway.

You look at him as he looks back at you with hopeful eyes, "I think you're absolutely fit, you have a nice smile and are tall enough—"

"Tall enough?" He asks, a little offended.

You chuckle at his reaction, "In the best way. I hate when a guy is too tall," you explain.

"Okay, continue..." he allows.

"And you always smell so good," you lean in to take a whiff of his perfume.

"Good, yeah?"

"Tell me the perfume you're wearing," you playfully ask.

He shakes his head, "Not when there's the chance to make you take a whiff of it from me."

Jamie places his hand on your knee and the gust of wind makes his hair tousled and makes him look double attractive. His light brown eyes pierce right through you with the gaze he locked you in.

"What is there not to like about you?" You conclude.

He props a hand to support his head as he looks down at you, "what do you think about us?"

To be honest, it's too early to say something about this relationship. Not only that you barely know him, you don't have the intention to have a relationship at all.

"There's something there but I don't know, not sure about it yet," you honestly answer.

The hand on your knee moves up to your thigh now. Damn! Jamie is smooth.

"Maybe once I get to know you better, I'd know," you hurriedly add before he gets the wrong idea.

The next thing you know, you get yourself in a pickle as you find him leaning closer to you and his hand that was on your thigh, now resting on your waist.

"Maybe if we kissed, we'd know each other better," his eyes are centered on your lips.

"You want to kiss?" You lower your voice, afraid that there are other people around you.

Jamie leans in closer until his nose meets yours, "So bad," he answers.

Is it why he smells so good? That his perfume isn't just perfume, but it's also pheromones? You hold his chin, unable to choose whether to turn him away or bring him close, finding it hard to resist him.

-

YOU: Jamie looking so good tonight. He's literally too hot to handle [dramatically rolls eyes]

-

Jamie leans in closer and an inch away from your lips when you put your hand on his lips, stopping him from kissing you.

"Stop!" You mewl at him.

Jamie looks a little taken aback, thinking that he can seal the deal tonight.

"I want to kiss you," you tell him with your thumb brushes over his lips.

"But..." You cup his jaw and slowly speak to him so your explanation is not lost in the middle, "I don't want us to be the first to rule break."

If you were out there in the wild, you'd be all over each other by now. However, you think about the money, and spending money this early in the show isn't worth it, well, for you. Other than that, being the first to break the rules will only get you so much shit from everyone.

-

YOU: If we were outside, I would have ripped his clothes already by now [laughs] [facepalm] Lana, you should be proud of me.

-

Jamie sucks air through his teeth and laughs this off, maybe he feels a little rejected, you bruise his ego. Men are fragile like that.

"It's hard for me too," you sincerely tell him and throw your arms around him, consoling him with a hug.

"I'll just give you another kiss on the neck, okay?" you proceed to do it, placing a soft kiss on his neck right below his ear.

You hear him lowly groan with eyes closed, "That's not... uh, make it better."

He puts a hand around you, keeping you close next to him, "what about sharing a bed?"

You laugh at how relentless he is. Not only it means putting you at a bigger risk to break the rules but also, he's being haste about this.

"I'd like that," you answer, earning a grin from him.

"But not tonight," you hurriedly add.

His hand slides down your head to play with the end of your hair, twirling it around his fingers. 

"Why not?"

The player recognizes the player and Jamie is giving you the eyes right now. You look away and snug to his side, "I hump in my sleep and I think you'd like that too much."

He cracks a laugh with his hand drawing you closer to him, "More reason to share a bed!"

-

YOU: It's too early to share a bed with anyone. I still want to get to know the other and... [shrugs] keep my options open.

-

The party is far from over but you feel tired from socializing, and worse is, you can't escape them since you're sharing a house with them for the rest of the month.

You decide to excuse yourself, going to the make-up room and powdering your nose, then staying there to sip your drinks in silence.

There are nine other people to get footage from so you don't have to worry about making it interesting for people to watch.

"Hey, I've been looking for you!"

You turn on your seat to see Maeve entering the room, "what's up, babe?"

She drags the chair next to you, then sits on it. She checks her hair in the mirror and brushes the end with her fingers.

"I'm thinking of talking to Felix," she finally answers.

You sip your drink before talking, "And why are you here?"

Maeve laughs at your playful response, she leans back on her seat and sighs, "I don't know I'm so nervous to talk to him," she says.

That should be your question but you know that Maeve doesn't seek an answer from you, she needs some encouragements.

"You're gorgeous and fun, I think he'll like you," you tell her with a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.

She warmly smiles at you and checks herself again in the mirror.

"But if you intend to break the rules, I suggest you apply matte lipstick," you poke fun at her.

"I should do that," she searches for her make-up bag from the cluttering mess on the long vanity table.

After sending Maeve out of the door with another encouragement in a form of a cheeky slap to her butt, you bring your drink with you to the bedroom, feeling so ready to end the day already.

The first thing you see are two bodies going at it on the bed in the corner. You don't know why but you stay there standing in the doorway of the bedroom, watching them kissing on the bed.

After a minute of observation, you're positive it's Heidi and Daniel.

You hear someone coming from behind you, you hurriedly turn around to find Jamie there.

"Get me more drinks?" You immediately ask him, trying to sound natural.

"Sure, yeah, been looking for you," he says, more than eager to take you back to the party.

It's the only right thing to do. He doesn't care about the rules and if he knew that someone has broken the rules, he will be more relentless than he already is.

-

Thankfully, Lana doesn't announce any rulebreaking behaviors for today, the party ends on a good note and everyone has their happy ending, at least for today.

But for you, you're just happy to finally get on the bed.

As Maeve climbs onto the bed after you, you can't wait but ask her about how the talk went. 

"So, how's the talk?"

From the lack of her usual radiance on her face, you can tell that it didn't go well. You regret asking about it.

Maeve scoots closer to you on the bed and leans in, keeping her head turns away from Felix's bed.

"I talked to him and he was nice, said he finds me cute and funny," she keeps her voice low.

"Well, that's great!" You comment, a little louder than you intend to.

Maeve puts on a thin smile, "yeah so I asked him if he has eyes for someone," she says.

"Yeah and?"

"He said he likes someone," she answers.

You playfully bump her shoulder, "and it's you."

"Else," she finishes her words, "he likes someone else."

She rests her head on your shoulder and you put your arm around her, comforting her with gentle squeezes on her shoulder.

"Does this mean you're going to stop trying or...?"

"Not sure," she shortly replies.

"He said you're beautiful and funny, you should focus on that and work your way from there," you comfort her.

Men are not only stupid, they're all short-sighted, and that's why they like everything big. Maybe at first glance, Felix didn't see Maeve clearly and that's why you encourage her to try once again so he can take another good look at her because who knows?

-

The morning alarm is ringing.

They set a time to let everyone know when to start their day even though a few of us have woken up earlier. The lights are on and greeting each other, barefaced with eyes still sleepy.

Jamie jumps onto your bed and gets between you and Maeve on the bed.

"Good morning, girls!" His voice is muffled by the pillow underneath.

Maeve gently pats his back, "Cuddles only!" She reminds him.

He lifts his head and looks at you, "Not going to lie but I was about to kiss her until you said that," he tells Maeve.

Jamie looks so fine with a bare face and his bedhead looks extra fluffy when it's tousled.

-

YOU: Good morning! It's a good day, clear sky, nice weather with no chance of sex. [Snorts]

-

When everyone is called to the cabana, you know that it's judgment time.

You feel calm knowing that you successfully refrained from breaking rules but you know that everyone is not going to be pleased that a few people spent a few thousand dollars last night. Including you.

So far, you only knew about Heidi and Daniel but there's a big chance that other people break the rules too. It's a big place, you can't keep track of everyone.

This secret you've been keeping is getting too hard to bear yourself. The only person you can share it with is Maeve and you're positive that she didn't break any rules, not that you know of.

"I walked in on Heidi and Daniel kissing," you whisper to Maeve.

"My Gosh!" She lowly gasps.

The sound of Lana's cone-shaped head chiming and your heart leaps. You're not ready to lose money, not when you have your credit card bills spilling out of your mailbox as you speak.

"I regret to inform that there are several rule breaks."

Several? So that means there's more than one rule break? You're doomed, everyone is doomed.

"Everyone better be telling the truth right now!" Cole says as the resident's sex cop.

Everyone is looking at each other and a few are looking very suspicious right now. You bet that Laura and Daniel broke the rules from the way they avoid everyone's eyes.

Heidi raises her hand like she's in a classroom, "So..."

And everyone groans, knowing that they are about to hear a piece of bad news.

"Daniel and I, we kissed in the bedroom," she admits.

It's good that Heidi decides to come clean but it's a bit upsetting that Daniel just sits there like he didn't take part in it.

"But that was it. Just one kiss!" She assures everyone.

Welp, that's $3000 down the drain. However, Lana continues to press everyone to confess.

"Let's just get it over with, guys!" Cole adds with gritted teeth.

Can't hold it in yourself for long, you call them out by the names, "Laura? Alex? Have anything to say?" You ask with a piercing gaze.

"We uh... we kissed," Alex may have a buff body and the tallest of the bunch but he's bad at being honest like all men are.

"But it's because we're sure we have a connection. That's why we kissed," Laura is, of course, backing her man and ready to claw people with her super-long acrylic nails.

"I don't care what all of you are saying. We—"

"You kissed for how many times?" Cole cuts her off with the most important question of all.

There's a moment of silence and that means it's bad.

"Twice. On the bed and the beach," Laura answers with no apologetic expression whatsoever.

"That's so selfish!" Maeve exclaims next to you and lets out a big sigh after.

The worst is Lana is still here and asking if anyone wants to own up to their shit. You don't even want to count the most you've lost, it's a lot.

"You've got to be kidding!" Jamie groans from the end of the sofa.

Not only that the truth costs everyone money but serves the juiciest drama needed for TV broadcasts.

"Daniel kissed me," Aly finally confesses.

Everyone's eyes dart at Daniel, he kissed two girls yesterday and put them in a fight after this. Heidi looks furious sitting next to him.

"I'm pretty sure he kissed me first then he kissed Heidi," she adds, her eyes throwing daggers at Daniel.

"This is a mess!" You quietly comment and plant your face in your hands.

"These rule breaks have cost the group a total of $12.000," Lana announces.

You groan into your hand thinking that much money can cover a couple of months of your rent and here these fools spending them to satisfy their wild desire.

-

YOU: From now on, I'll be thinking of a Chanel handbag every time I get the urge to kiss someone because that's how much it costs.

-

"There are a total of four rule breaks in the last 24 hours and the fine on any further rule break will be doubled as of this moment," Lana announces another shocking news.

-

YOU: Great! A kiss equals two Chanel handbags now. [Hand against forehead]

-

It was one hell of a way to start the day.

Everyone's mood turns sour after that and Cole, being the sex cop he is, doesn't stop preaching to everyone to not break any rules.

What you fear the most with rules has been broken more than once now, it's allowed everyone else to take their turn and that includes Jamie.

It's only about time that he'll start demanding a kiss from you. Don't get fooled, men are just as insecure as women but they mask it well with their huge egos.

You try to avoid him and hang out with Maeve instead, chilling by the pool.

"I heard Irish people are a great drinking buddy," you want to distract yourself from the reality show you're in.

"I wouldn't call myself a 'buddy' but yeah, we're good drinkers," Maeve answers with her playful laughs.

You dip your fingers in the pool water and mindlessly splash it around.

"Come to Ireland and I'll show you a good time," she says.

You snort thinking that with the debt you have, you can't afford to travel out of the country right now but you can't pass on the invitation.

"Okay, I'll just go there with my winning prize," you jokingly say.

"Oh, yeah, totally," she responds with giggles but her eyes are nowhere in your direction.

Following her line of vision, she is watching Felix working out with Alex and Cole at the beach. You take it that she hesitates to make a move on him after knowing that he likes someone else.

"You're going to talk to him again right?"

Considering that the outside world is off-limits, leaving all of you with no choice but to interact with each other. This also means that Maeve will have to get a move on him or try not to be awkward with Felix walking around the house for the next three weeks.

"Who do you think it is?"

"The one he likes?" You guess.

She nods, glints of curiosity filled her eyes, "yeah."

"Certainly not you," you joke and break into laughter.

"Ouch!" She splashes water at you.

-

YOU: Maeve thinks a lot when she has nothing to worry about. She should just do it.

-

The house is huge even for ten people living in it but you can't keep avoiding Jamie.

After dressing up to hang out in the firepit, you sit next to Jamie at ease with the presence of other people there. But that doesn't stop him from touching you, putting his hand around you to play with your hair and whatnot.

"We should have kissed yesterday," he suddenly says.

You lowly chuckle, "When it was cheaper?"

The wind keeps blowing your way, sending your hair flying around and making it messy. Jamie attentively puts the stray hair away and tucks them behind your ears.

"Do you still want to break the rules?" You ask out of curiosity.

"If you want to," he answers.

He fixes the collar of his shirt and looks at you, "what about you?"

You crinkle your nose at him, conflicted. On one side, you want to kiss him and see if there's a spark between you and him but on the other side, it costs two Chanel handbags.

You rest your head on his shoulder, "I just don't think we should be selfish by spending money recklessly," you honestly answer.

"Yeah..." he agrees but the sigh he lets out at the end tells you otherwise.

-

YOU: Jamie sounds a little disappointed that I don't want to break the rules. I mean, don't hate the player, hate the game!

-

The make-up room is crowded with the girls cleansing their faces and doing their bedtime routine. You decide to take the last turn, lounging on Jamie's bed to make up for not sleeping with him tonight.

"Are you guys going to sleep together tonight?" Aly asks from the bed across the room.

Jamie turns his head with an eyebrow raised at you, asking you the same question.

"Yes, we are," you finally answer.

Jamie can't hide his triumphant smile and it looks adorable on him, you can't help but smile along.

-

YOU: I don't want to feel pressured to do it but I owe it to Jamie to at least try and see if this relationship is going somewhere.

-

It's understandable for them to be nosy, it's what the viewers need, a little drama, a little action but what they need are the juicy details.

Before anyone else gets nosy, you start getting ready for bed. Wipes clean your make-up and go to the bathroom to wash up, someone else is showering inside the stall.

It's a normal occurrence. Honestly, everyone else is just so calm about seeing each other's body at this point.

However, the glass wall is blurry so you don't have to worry about seeing someone's naked body inside. You head to the sink and mind your own business.

As you're brushing your teeth, the shower door opens and a hand reaches out for a towel hanging by the handle. In the mirror, you see Felix steps out of the shower and your eyes eventually meet through the reflection and you reflexively smile with a toothbrush tugged between your teeth.

"Hey," he greets.

It surprises you that the deep voice belongs to him, "Hi," you greet back.

He walks toward you and you scoot to the side knowing that he needs to use the sink.

"You don't mind, right?" He asks, taking his toothbrush out of his toiletry bag.

You shake your head, "not at all."

It's hard to not see his body when he stands close next to you. Everyone in here has a nice body but on the first impression, you see him as this thin and dainty guy.

Now, you've seen him up close, he has one of the best bodies in the house, his muscles are perfectly toned and it shows that he diligently worked on his body.

"How's your day?" He casually asks with the towel hanging low around his hips.

"Alright, I guess," you answer.

"You?" You ask back while washing your toothbrush under the running water.

He looks at you and smiles, "just got better, actually," he answers.

Felix is definitely flirting and you immediately fill your mouth with water before stupid things come out of it. You decide to quickly wrap it up before someone else enters the space even though you're doing nothing.

-

YOU: Felix and I are just talking. There's— [inhales] he's low-key flirting with me and I freaked out, there I said it.

-

Maeve is already on the bed when you enter the bedroom and so is Jamie with a space prepared on the bed for you.

It would be rude to say nothing to Maeve that you'll not be sleeping with her, so you come to her first.

"I'm sleeping with Jamie," you tell her.

She slyly grins at you, "Should I give you the sex talk?"

"No, thank you, mom!" You grab your pillow and walk to Jamie's bed still laughing.

Jamie's smile grows wider the closer you get to his bed, he opens his arms to welcome you.

"Come here, sweet thing!" He playfully says.

You hit him with your pillow before coming into his hug. As you settle on his bed, Felix walks past your bed and flashes you a smile, a little different from the one he gave you earlier.

You forget that he sleeps on the bed next to Jamie's and you don't know how it suddenly feels awkward to you.

"Be good, you two!" Cole warns with a piercing glare.

"Not going to break any rules. You can have my words," you assure him despite Jamie nuzzling his nose onto your shoulder as you speak.

-

YOU: At least, that's what I hope. Being in bed with Jamie and try not to break rules will certainly not going to be easy. Ugh!

-

Once the lights are out, Jamie spoons you from behind with his arms wrapped around you. Not going to lie but it feels nice to be with someone.

"You smell so good," he whispers into your ear.

You don't respond, afraid that it will only encourage him to do more.

"You're so soft," he says again with his hand splayed on your bare stomach.

"Night, Jamie," you put an end to the talk.

That doesn't stop his hand from cuddling you and nuzzling his nose in your neck.

"No goodnight kiss?" He asks.

You take his hand and kiss it as a substitute, earning a low laugh from him.

Jamie kisses you on the neck in return, "Night!"

-

YOU: It's getting a little hot in here [fanning your neck]

-

The first thing Cole does when he wakes up is ask everyone an important question.

"Did anyone break any rules last night?"

You shake your head because as much as it's been hard to refrain from touching Jamie, you didn't do anything but cuddle under the cover.

"I can promise you we've been good in here!" Jamie confidently states and puts his arm around you.

Aly as Maeve's new bedmate, points at Laura and Alex's bed, "I definitely heard noises coming from their bed," she snatches on them.

Alex may have a good poker face but you can't say the same with Laura, she's looking guilty but the kind that tells she's not sorry for doing it.

"You may as well spill the truth now," Daniel eggs in.

Laura nonchalantly shrugs as if she's not been acting selfishly when it's only about time that Lana announces how much money we've lost because of them.

-

YOU: I'm proud that Jamie and I managed to not break any rules last night. I hope that proves that we do have a real connection.

-

It's too late for you to walk out as Felix sees you coming into the bathroom.

You walk to the sink to grab your toiletry bag you forgot to take with you, "I can't believe our meet cute is in the bathroom," you say.

He laughs hearing your words while struggling to put sunblock on his back.

"Need help?"

He considers it for a moment then nods, "Yes!"

You take the tube of sunblock from him, pressing a big dollop of the cream on your hand and slowly lathering it on his honey skin. His skin is smooth and warm with muscles that make his back the perfect spot to lean on.

"So, you and Jamie, huh?" he suddenly asks, looking at you through the reflection in the mirror.

The question snaps you out of your daze. You're thankful that he can't see your face as you're busy making sure the sunblock is covering his back evenly.

"Yes," you shortly reply.

He hums while subtly nodding his head, "And what do you think?"

You play dumb but it's also because your hands wander to his lats and they're distracting, "of what?"

Felix leans forward with hands resting against the sink, "is it serious?"

You silently gulp air because his question only means that he has an interest in your relationship which also means that he has...

"We're still figuring each other out," you settle with a diplomatic answer for him.

You glide your hands back up to lather the sunblock down his shoulder blades.

"I see," he responds with a smile.

And not just a smile, a smile that tells he got the answer he wants.

You slide your hands down his arms and playfully squeeze his biceps, "there! Done!"

He takes the sunblock back from you and checks himself in the mirror, "thank you."

Felix raises his hands for a high-five with you, "Let's have a great day!"

You smile at him and return the high-five, "Let's do it!"

-

YOU: Maeve likes Felix and I'm obviously team hoes before bros. Always!

-

"Blue looks good on you!"

It's another day of Jamie's endeavors to kiss you, starting the conversation by complimenting your bikini. He joined you sunbathing by the pool in the afternoon, sharing a sun lounger.

"Thank you!" You reply with a smile with your eyes squinting under the bright sun.

His hand is squeezing your arm, "you got some muscles here," he says.

"I played volleyball in high school," you share.

Propping a hand under his head, he looks down at you, "I want to see you play volleyball."

You chuckle, "That was years ago. I forgot how to play."

"Must be looking sexy serving ball in tight shorts," he lowers his head into your neck.

You burst out laughing and slip your hand in his soft locks, "that sounds so wrong."

Not only that you're out in the open, it's rather dangerous with how close he is and his lips looking inviting as he plants it on your shoulder.

It's only right that you distract him by giving him a little taste but not too much, enough to make him crave more.

"Do it for me?" You ask with a bottle of sun spray in your head.

"I'd love to," he eagerly says.

Jamie sprays on parts of the body he wants to touch, all over your back as you lay on your stomach and down to your asscheek, excessively kneading on them.

You laugh at how he can't stop himself that you eventually have to turn over so he can continue, spraying your shoulders.

You take off the straps around your neck so he can spray your chest and sneaks his hand on the valley between your breasts.

"Yeah, get in there!" You playfully encourage him.

Jamie grins like a child who got caught taking a cookie out of the cookie jar. He then continues to spray on your abdomen and evenly rub them down your thighs next while glancing into your eyes once in a while.

To say that you don't enjoy teasing him would be a lie.

-

YOU: Jamie becomes more relentless by the day but am I wrong to not want to rule break? Isn't that the purpose of this retreat?

-

As the day turns to night, it's only about time until everyone got called to the cabana.

You feel sick listening to the sound of Lana's cone-shaped body chiming, especially with Laura and Alex acting so suspiciously.

Lana is a computer but she sounds not pleased as she greets everyone. Cut to the announcement, she informs that Laura and Alex did break the rules last night.

You glance at Cole who got speechless that he's just looking at Alex in disbelief.

"These rule breaks cost the group $18.000."

-

YOU: For three kisses? Really? Lana, please, be reasonable with the prices.

-

"That's not the only rule break they committed," Lana spills more truth.

This is what you fear the most, getting riled by the whole group for breaking the rules. Everyone looks at both Laura and Alex waiting for them to confess.

"I touched his willy under the cover," Laura confesses.

Everyone groans in unison.

You don't know how Laura is okay being so selfish and can keep a straight face, but that's probably why her make-up is super thick.

"This rule break costs the group a further $4.000."

"Why would you do that?" Maeve asks and she rarely gets this mad.

"It's not a big deal!" Laura nonchalantly responds.

"Yeah but not for $4.000!" Heidi snaps at her, as furious as everyone.

"Now the prize fund stands at $166.000."

-

YOU: I can use that money as a deposit for a house and here we are, spending it on kisses and a hand down a guy's trouser.

-

The night gets darker not only on the outside but inside the house as well.

Lana sends Laura and Alex to the suite to test if they're building a true connection but everyone is skeptical that they'll pass the test.

You sit on the bed with Jamie resting his head on your lap, brushing his hair to relax you now that you've lost a chunk of money.

"Alex is like the horniest people and Laura is the biggest teaser, it's a recipe for a disaster," Aly comments, lying on her stomach on the bed opposite yours.

"They will rule break once or twice at least," Jamie adds his opinion.

The night ends early but you see that Maeve and Felix haven't returned yet to their respective beds. You hope that things are going well with them.

You nuzzle your head into Jamie's chest and murmur, "We haven't broken any rules," you tell him.

"Yet," Jamie continues your words clasping your hand with his.

You look at him and smile as he looks back at you, "We've been good and I'm proud."

He foolishly smiles and opens his arms to invite you for a hug. You jump right into his embrace and those muscles on his body feel pillowy under you.

Jamie pulls the duvet to cover both of your bodies even though the lights aren't out yet. You squeal as he starts to glide his hands down your sides.

-

YOU: I appreciate Jamie for being so patient because I know, it was hard for me to not throw myself at him.

-

"We don't need another rule break tonight!"

Cole pulls the duvet down to reveal that the two of you are just tickling each other under the cover.

At the same time, Felix makes his way to his bed, seeing you straddling Jamie on the bed which sends you to get off of him immediately.

It's unclear why you do that but your eyes go straight to Maeve's bed, it's empty even when the lights are already out.

You nestle your head in Jamie's neck as he lightly touches up and down your arm and kisses your hand once in a while.

You plant a soft kiss on his neck and whisper, "Night."

He kisses you back on the head, "Goodnight!"

-

YOU: I start to believe that maybe Jamie and I do have a genuine connection [smiles]

-

Everyone is looking restless from the moment they woke up and looks in shambles once they gathered in the cabana, ready for that time of the day.

After a while, Laura and Alex are returning from the suite. You recognize the glow on Laura's face right away but you could be wrong.

God! You hope you're wrong and they didn't do anything selfish last night.

You're spacing out as Lana comes with her anxiety-inducing ping sounds and all you can think about is how much money Laura and Alex spent last night.

"They're looking suspicious," Aly whispers at you.

Indeed, they are, and looking very guilty as well. Everyone waits in anticipation as Lana takes her time to announce whether they pass the test or blow all the money in one night.

"I must tell the group that Laura and Alex did..."

You hold your breath for the worst outcome.

"Not..."

It's getting harder to breathe now.

"Break any rules!"

Everyone shoots up from their seats and congratulates the couple in turns. You got so far in life that you get to celebrate people for not having sex.

-

YOU: So they can keep it in their pants! I'm proud!

-

Lana has another announcement after everyone settled in from the celebration.

"To motivate everyone to grow genuine feelings of connection as opposed to lust, I've prepared gifts for all of you."

You take the box in front of you and open it to reveal a watch inside.

"When I observe two people forming genuine connections, they will be given a green light like this."

Everyone's watch chimes and turns green at the same time.

"While the lights are green, the rules do not apply for a limited amount of time."

Cole claps his hands together to get everyone's attention, "There's no more excuse for anyone to break any more rules!"

-

YOU: This [shows the watch] motivates me to build a connection with Jamie. Hope we get to be the first to get the green light.

-

After a very stressful morning that thankfully ends with a happy ending, you can have the room to breathe since the boys are out of the house to do a workshop at the beach.

The girls are hanging out in the bedroom and with the drama going on earlier, you forgot to ask Maeve why she went to bed late last night.

To get a little privacy, even though you can't get any with cameras placed in every crook and nook of the villa, you take her to the make-up room. You sit next to her while fixing your make-up in the mirror.

"Is everything okay?" You ask.

Maeve sits with both feet up on the chair and looks down at her nails, "not okay, honestly," she answers.

You stop looking at the mirror and turn your chair to face her, "why? What happened?"

Maeve hugs her folded legs and looks at you, a sad smile on her face.

"I just don't know what I'm doing here..."

You place your hand on her knee, "hey, don't say that!"

"I'm not making connections with anyone and I tried, but it's not working. I-I don't know why I'm here," she says with a heavy sigh at the end of the sentence.

It seems like things aren't going well between her and Felix, and Maeve is someone with low self-esteem, which makes her somewhat dejected that things didn't go well.

"You don't have to be a couple to make progress, you know," you comfort her and it's true, Cole is proof that he's fine not being in a pair and dedicates himself as an avid protector of the prize money instead.

"I'm not pretty. No one wants to be with me," she breaks into tears and buries her head in her hands.

You get up from the chair to hug her, "First of all, everyone here is pretty and it's not a beauty pageant, okay?" You comfort her while slightly bending down with your arms around her.

"It's not about look. It's about chemistry, attraction, and stuff," you awkwardly explain.

You have no talent in comforting someone but you try your best. After a moment, Maeve lifts her head and looks at you.

"No one is attracted to me," she says with her fingers carefully dabbing the corner of her eyes to avoid ruining her make-up.

You scoff and turn the chair to face her before sitting on it, "you are so beautiful, Maeve," you assure her with both hands holding hers.

Maeve puts down her feet and your clasped hands dropped onto her lap, "I know," she half-heartedly agrees.

"For you, I'll fly to Ireland and come see you, we'll get drunk and have so much fun," you cheer her up with nice thoughts while shaking her hands.

Maeve cracks a laugh and you can see that she starts to get hopeful again. She's a genuinely kind person which is not someone you expect to meet here, you think of her as a friend despite it happening because you both are in a reality show.

A crazy idea crosses your head, "you know what? We can be a couple and win the money," you tell her.

-

YOU: I'm bad at comforting people and the only thing I know how to comfort someone is through actions [slyly smiles]

-

She laughs at your wild suggestion that it takes her a while to reply to you, "I'd love that, yeah," she jokingly answers.

An even crazier idea crosses your head, "come here then," you tell her, pulling her close until your heads meet in the middle.

Maeve senses your intention but not doing anything to stop you, instead, she leans in first to kiss you.

You kiss her back as she softly brushes her lips on yours over and over again. She tastes so sweet and warm, she knows how to use her tongue and not overdo it, and overall, one hell of a good kisser.

You pull away first as the reality that someone might walk in on you dawns on you.

"Did we just break the rules?" Maeve asks while wiping her smeared lipstick.

"You'd better have a good poker face!" You warn her.

-

YOU: Goodness! Maeve is a good kisser and that kiss... I think that was the best $6.000 I ever spent. No regret at all.

-

The boys are back just in time for another party Lana is throwing tonight.

The theme is Saints and Sinners and there's a box of costumes for everyone to wear. You choose to be an angel with wings even though you've been behaving badly after breaking the rules earlier.

He sits you on his lap even though the sofa is spacy enough for another two persons but you feel safe since Alex and Laura are there, cuddling in the smaller sofa across from yours.

"So, what did you do in the workshop?" You ask Jamie.

He takes a deep breath and his chest heaving along with yours, "we learned how to be more open with our feelings."

You nod along and leer over at him, "And how did it go?"

Jamie rests his chin on your shoulder with a hand resting on your stomach, "Well, I'm never good at it but I think I did alright."

He doesn't sound so convincing but you appreciate the effort.

"You look beautiful, babe!" He compliments you along with a gentle squeeze on your thigh.

You're immune to sweet nothings like this but a compliment is a compliment. You smile and mutter, "Thank you!"

You slip your hand into the opening of his shirt, "I like your shirt," you compliment back with a seductive smile.

He sees your hand slide in further into his shirt, "should have let another button open."

Jamie keeps checking his watch hoping that the light turns green soon.

You doubt that a few compliments can do it and silently laugh at his fruitless effort. 

-

YOU: I'll always be physically attracted to Jamie but I don't know. I can't tell if I doubt myself or him, or us, entirely [clicks tongue]

-

The time for doom is here.

You exchange nervous glances with Maeve knowing what we've done would damage the numbers on the prize fund. You doubt that it's what Laura felt when she broke the rules because what you're feeling is a sense of guilt but that's solely because you behaved selfishly, not for the kiss.

"Hours after receiving the gifts of my watches, a couple of you decide to break the rules by kissing," Lana announces.

Everyone's eyes land on Alex and Laura since they're the regular rulebreakers. Just know that they'll be surprised once they found out who did it.

"You know the routine. Just spill it!" Cole sounded so done at this point.

You hate to break his trust but you don't feel bad for breaking the rules, not when you have a good intention. Your heart is pounding for how much shit you'll get either from admitting it or don't, you choose the former.

"It was me," you blurt out with a hand raised.

Jamie snaps his head at you, eyes wide filled with confusion because he knows for damn sure you didn't kiss him or vice versa.

"I'm not going to name names who I did it with and why," you quickly add and it's the only right thing to do, you don't want to force Maeve to speak out unless she wanted to.

"I'm sorry," you apologize.

Jamie looks even more confused but his eyes are scanning the guys one by one even though it isn't any of them you kissed.

"I'm sorry, Cole," you apologize to him personally since he's the one who gets sensitive the most about the money.

Maeve raises her hand and decides to admit it as well, "she did it with me."

They let out a collective gasp, laughter, and sneaky eyes going on after. Jamie squeezes your shoulder but not saying anything to you.

"Another $6.000 has gone from the prize fund, leaving the group with $160.000," Lana furtherly informs.

Funny that you didn't about the money at all when you kiss Maeve. Probably because you know that you intend to rebuild Maeve's confidence, so she's not giving up on herself and continues her journey here.

However, when it comes to Jamie, you're still not sure if you want to spend $6.000 on a kiss with him.

-

The rule break doesn't seem to leave that much impression on everyone.

Maybe because they give you a pass because it's your first time breaking the rule and the night ends in peace or that's what you thought.

You're chatting with Aly in the firepit to avoid the crowded make-up room when suddenly Felix comes behind you. You didn't notice until Aly sends you a signal with her eyes.

"Can I talk to you?" He asks.

Aly gets the hint and decides to leave, "I'll excuse myself then."

You've spent a couple of times alone with him even though they only last for a few minutes, but this time is different, no one is around except for the filming crew lurking in the bushes or somewhere you're not aware of.

The sofa could fit a couple of dozen people but Felix decides to sit next to you.

"Hi," he sweetly greets.

"Hi, how are you?" You ask with a smile.

His legs are spreading wide and he has gaping holes in his jeans, exposing bits of his thighs that you found are surprisingly muscular.

"I'm good," he answers, doing the classic move of putting his arm on the headrest of the sofa, "how about you?"

Your body somehow responds by putting your leg over the other and leaning towards him, "Never been better."

Felix gets quiet but his eyes are deeply looking into your eyes as if he found something fascinating in them. A while later, he clears his throat as he slightly slouched on the sofa, legs spreading wider, sending the holes in his jeans to stretch and expose more of his skin.

"During the workshop, we were taught to open up about our feelings and I–" He pauses to scratch his small nose and continues with an uneasy glance at you, "I know what I want and I want to do it. I know I'll regret it if I don't."

"Okay," you respond while nodding along and at times, getting distracted by the holes in his jeans.

"I know you're with Jamie and I don't mean to break things between the two of you but I feel like... I need you to know that I like you."

Felix talks without a beat and with the intense stare he's giving you, you gulp air feeling nervous but in an exciting kind of way.

"I like you," he says again.

Your heart starts to race because you can feel how much he meant all of his words.

-

YOU: Oh my God! The hottest man in this retreat likes me?!

-

"You don't have to do anything about it," he casually says as if he didn't just put you in a predicament since you're with Jamie.

Felix retracts his hand and accidentally or not, brushes his hand on your shoulder. He gives you the faintest of physical contact but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Still speechless by his sudden confession, but you know you should have said something to him to avoid him getting the wrong idea.

"Thank you for letting me know," you begin.

"You're very welcome!" He excitedly responds with a wide grin.

"But let me know if you want to do anything about it," he adds with a playful grin.

Something about him makes you warm inside, you can feel your cheeks heating, flustered with his eyes never straying away from yours even for a second.

The night is late and the fireplace is laying low, swaying with the gentle breeze coming from the sea, Felix's lips suddenly look so inviting, enticing you like a forbidden apple.

This is dangerous. 

"Let's head inside," he says, thankfully being the one putting a brake on the imminent danger.

-

YOU: This is honestly what I seek with Jamie, that excitement, that sparks and it's a problem that I got it from someone else without any sort of physical contact whatsoever.

-

"So, Maeve, is she a good kisser?" Jamie asks as he sits with you on the bed.

Maeve sips water from her tumbler before answering, "The best!"

She takes another sip before talking again, "You're in for a treat, Jamie."

He glances at you with an impressed smile, "Too bad that I can't confirm that," he says.

That's his way to dig at you for what you did. You understand that he feels betrayed by what you did, you refuse to kiss him but easily kissed someone behind his back.

You put your hand across his chest and look at him, "Are you mad?"

"Nah," he coyly answers.

You bring your mouth close to his ear, "are you jealous?"

Jamie chuckles as your breath tickles his ear, "A bit, yeah."

You kiss his cheek and deliver your apology with a heartfelt whisper, "I'm sorry, baby."

-

YOU: I, of course, feel bad for not giving Jamie the heads up about the kiss I did with Maeve. He looks rather upset but I know I deserve it.

-

It's probably luck that follows you throughout the times you spent in the retreat.

Everyone forgot about your rulebreaking as Daniel decides to get a new bed partner. He used to sleep with Heidi but tonight, he decides to sleep with Aly.

You nudge Jamie who's sleeping with his head nuzzles in your neck to witness the drama happening in the room.

His mouth opens in surprise while you look at Heidi who's slumped down on the bed.

"You okay?" You mouth at her.

"No," she mouths back.

You turn to look at Jamie, "Oh my God!" You lowly gasp.

"I feel bad for Heidi," Jamie whispers.

"Me too," you say back behind the duvet at Jamie.

-

YOU: Let's say we never know what's going to happen next [shrugs]

-

The mood the next morning has been set to gloomy with the drama that happened last night.

The good news is there's no sign of anyone breaking any rules and the bad news is that Jamie seems to not moving on from your kiss with Maeve yet.

Jamie is usually chipper whenever he's with you, except for today, he seems distant even though you're working out together by the beach.

"Tighten your glutes," he instructed.

You play dumb since that's the most successful way to win a guy's heart, "tighten my what?"

Jamie chuckles and enthusiastically shows you the parts of your body you need to work on, the back of your thighs and legs. His hands don't skip the chance to rub over the curve of your ass.

"Can you feel it?" He asks as he guides you to do a proper squat by standing right behind you.

You intentionally nudge his crotch with your ass, "oh yeah, I can feel it," you answer with giggles.

By working out, you hope that it would help to release tension between you and Jamie, it worked but in the process, you're getting that tingling down there with his hands constantly touching you.

You collapse onto the yoga mat from doing a plank and groan, "Ugh... I'm so horny."

Jamie laughs as he helps you get up from the mat.

-

YOU: I realized now that maybe Jamie needs validation, he needs more than just words from me. Maybe I have to do something about it [raises an eyebrow]

-

Before you can set a plan, Lana calls everyone to the cabana.

Not sure if anyone breaks any rules but you feel sick in the stomach whenever you sit down and face her cone-shaped body.

Cole is getting ready to put his laser eyes on anyone who breaks the rules.

"No one break any rules last night," Lana announces.

Everyone seems to be letting out a sigh of relief and you feel guilty just from thinking about doing a rule break later for Jamie.

"With the couples seeming to form deeper bonds, it's time to establish how committed to each other you really are," Lana states.

Couples? You are positive you and Jamie are included in it.

"By sending some of you on dates..." Lana continues.

-

YOU: The question is... Who's going on a date? I would love to go on a date with Jamie.

-

Now everyone starts to hold their breath again with Lana dragging each piece of information just to torture all of you.

"With new arrivals," Lana finally finishes.

This is not a good time for Lana to intervene, not when you plan on taking things further with Jamie. Also, new arrivals mean that they're not adapted to the rules yet, they'll be uncontrollable, horny babies like... well, everyone here a week ago.

"The first arrival is... Mia," Lana announces.

The guys snickered in joy, excited even just from hearing the girl's name.

"I have given her a choice of dating one of the boys currently in couples."

Your mouth hangs open in surprise, you're wrong to underestimate Lana's power and that she owns this game, she's the mastermind.

"She has selected..."

-

YOU: I hate to think about it but I have an inkling that this Mia girl is going to choose Jamie [leans back on the sofa]

-

"... Jamie."

The timing is impeccable.

Things are going well between you and Jamie, then Lana, being the girl boss she is, decides to ruin all of that.

You look at Jamie and he looks slightly pleased that he got chosen.

You're spacing out the rest of the time Lana announces another arrival, a boy who chose Laura to be his date.

It's unclear whether you're jealous about him going on another date or you regret holding yourself back from him all these times.

Jamie rubs his hand up and down your arm, briefly kisses your cheek, then says, "You have nothing to worry about."

How come you trust his words when you've witnessed all these bed hoppings and jumping ships happened overnight?

-

YOU: What Jamie said only makes me even more worried. Lana said it's a test so this Mia girl must be sexy, and speaks three languages or something. You know, like a girl version of Alex.

-

Maeve is helping you style your hair for tonight.

"How do you feel about Jamie going on a date with someone?" She asks.

You shrug and sigh, sending the powder you're holding flying around your face.

"I just hope she's ugly," you jokingly answer.

"Hate to break the news but I think she's hot and a potential rulebreaker," Maeve decides to pour salt on your wound instead of soothing it.

"It's not that I don't care but I decide not to care," you explain.

You finish your make-up with a setting spray and check yourself again in the mirror, "but you know, deep down, I'm scared, shitless," you admit.

It's getting more nerve-wracking waiting for Jamie to come back from his date. Maeve keeps you occupied with happy thoughts, telling you fun things you can do in Ireland with her.

The other girls low-key comfort you by complimenting your looks. It's a nice gesture except that no one died and you're not in mourning, you just want this to get over with.

Laura is the first one to come back, guiding the new arrival by linking her arm with his.

She introduces Killian around, an Irish man who's just the perfect match for Maeve.

Killian is a great distraction, his accent is attractive and so is his smile. You keep nudging Maeve's elbow to send her hints.

Maeve replies by elbowing your side and you thought she was being playful, then turn your head around to see Jamie has came back from his date.

"Oh shit. She's hot!" Aly exclaims.

You bite your tongue and put your lips together, not wanting to lose your calm easily. There are only two possibilities, Jamie stays with you, or not.

As Jamie pulls you to the make-up room, you know it's time for him to decide.

"How was the date?" You ask with a smile.

"It was nice. We had champagne and fruits and cheeses," he gives you an answer that you don't expect.

You silently gulp air and keep on putting on a smile for him, "Sounds lovely!"

The moment passed in silence is deafening and you need to burst it. You clear your throat and hold the hand on his lap.

"So... are you here to tell me I was right for not worrying you?" You joke.

Jamie awkwardly laughs at your question and that you're right for worrying him. A part of you is in denial that you're not chosen but another part of you decides to shut him out right here, right now.

"I want to tell you that Mia and I... I think we have something going on between us and I want to get to know her more," he slowly explains.

This heart is fickle, you decided not to care but you feel a sting in your chest when he told you that.

"You're saying you chose her?" You ask for confirmation.

Jamie takes your other hand, afraid that you run away before he can explain.

"No, I'm staying with you and openly telling you that at the same time, I want to get to know Mia," he refuses your words when it's exactly what he wants.

Other girls would give him the chance but not with you, if Jamie chose her then he should stay with her. There's no use for you and him to stay together if he wants to get to know someone that isn't you.

"Jamie you can't do that. You either stay with me or be with her, you have to choose!" You insist on him settling on a decision.

-

YOU: Apparently, Jamie wants to have his cake and eat it too [shakes head]

-

You get it that Jamie is conflicted because he still likes you but the other girl offers him something that you don't give to him.

"I like you. I still want to be with you," Jamie persists.

His words are not aligned with his action. You shake your head and put his hands away, "it sounds like you're asking me to wait for you while you're getting it on with someone else."

That seems to put the nail in the coffin that he got speechless. The disappointment got to you that you and if you stayed longer, you're afraid you would say something you didn't mean to him.

"You've made your choice, Jamie," you tell him.

-

YOU: To say that I'm disappointed is an understatement. I'm livid, I'm... I was planning to take things further but yeah... [brushes hair to the back] Mia happens.

-

Can't believe that you'll be the one serving drama tonight.

You stall in the make-up room, not wanting to get to the bedroom yet. You're drying your hair after a shower and sitting there for a minute, just taking everything in and trying to let it go.

Taking a deep breath, you keep a straight face as you push the door into the bedroom and have no choice but to share a bed with Heidi since Maeve is sharing the bed with Killian.

"You alright, babe?" She quietly asks.

You hold your forehead and slump down on the bed, "it's shitty."

She gently squeezes your elbow, "yeah."

You lay down on the bed and avoid the eyes looking back and forth between you and Jamie. You may decide not to care but seeing him sleeping with another girl right in front of your eyes, hurts.

You cover your eyes with your hand and mumble, "I just want to get this day over with."

-

YOU: Jamie has decided so he has to live with that decision. Good luck, I guess.

-

If it weren't for her, Jamie would have stayed with you and you wouldn't be waking up to Heidi lowly snoring next to you.

Mia might have seduced him but it wouldn't happen if Jamie remained faithful so you decide to blame him, not her.

This is probably what Maeve felt that day when she cried, defeated, and dejected.

But Jamie has to try harder if he wants to see you cry.

 "How are you feeling, sexy?" Maeve asks as she waddles in the swimming pool.

You sit on the edge with your feet dipped in the sun-warm water, "I don't know, really," you shrug.

She holds onto your leg, clinging to it to stay afloat, "You're better than her, trust me, she's not that attractive if you looked at her long enough."

You know that she's not saying that out of spite, she said all that to make you feel better.

"Saying unkind things about her doesn't make me better, Maeve," you tell her with a glare.

"I'm sorry but it's true," she says with a subtle shrug.

-

YOU: Jamie and I [sighs] We hugged, we cuddled, we slept in one bed together. I don't want to care but the truth is... I care.

-

The day drags on and you're more than happy to get to your bed except that you're not ready to see Jamie and Mia cuddling on the bed you used to sleep on.

You're hanging out with Maeve in the make-up room while she's braiding your hair to pass the time.

"We can sleep together. I'll just tell Killian—"

"And risks Heidi stealing him from you?" You cut her off with a joke.

Maeve laughs as she tied the end of your hair with an elastic band and fixes the loose hair on the back of your head.

"Enough about me. How about you and Killian?"

Maeve plops down on the chair next to you and takes a hairbrush from the table, slowly combing the end of her hair.

"We chatted a lot but not sure if we have that connection," she answers.

"But don't worry, we're getting along just fine," she assures you in response to your concerned expression.

"Is it perhaps because you haven't moved on from Felix?"

Asking her that is like walking on eggshells and you're doing it carefully. Mostly because Felix confessed that he likes you that making it seems that way to you.

"Oh come on! I've moved past that," she answers while twirling her hair around her fingers.

You consider telling her about Felix's confession that night but it comes to no use, the retreat has come halfway to finish and you're not sure if Felix still likes you.

It's close to lights out and you step into the bedroom with Maeve.

Heidi is already taking half of the bed with her long legs that you have to scoot close to the edge to lie down.

"Goodnight, everyone!" Aly says to everyone in the room and getting sleepy mumbles in return.

-

YOU: When I think about it, I'm seeing Lana more than my therapist [uneasy smiles]

-

This is not how you want to start the day.

You don't want to hear what Jamie and Mia did or how they spent $20.000 last night. He probably has pent-up tension and finally got to release it with her.

"You got the watches, man!" Cole is coming at him.

You sit back and watch it from the end of the sofa on how Jamie is trying to explain himself.

"I know you won't believe me but Mia and I, we have a connection," he explains.

"Why not act right and get rewarded?" Cole is jabbing him with words.

"You won't understand," Jamie says with a defeated sigh.

-

YOU: Maybe that's why I doubted Jamie. I can see it now, the bright side [smirks]

-

Nothing says a fresh start than doing yoga with Heidi.

Apparently, she is a licensed instructor and you feel a whole lot better after stretching your body to the limit.

You share the shower with Maeve to cut the time and get ready to dress up.

As you're applying your lipstick, Lana chimes in and makes you jolt in your seat.

Maeve's mouth drops open and she stops curling her hair altogether.

"Hello, ladies!"

"Hi, Lana," you nervously answer and push your chair away from the table.

Then she calls your name and you almost choke on air.

"Y-yes?"

"I'm offering the chance to go on a date with Felix " Lana informs out of the blue.

"Me?" You ask in disbelief.

"Would you like to attend?" Lana asks.

You turn to look at Maeve to remind yourself to be a good friend and a good friend avoid hurting her friend's feelings.

"Shouldn't we make them wait for at least 48 hours for an answer, Lana?" You playfully respond.

Maeve kicks your feet under the table, "what are you doing? Say yes!"

"Then how about you?" You blabber, not expecting that she gives you the blessing to go on a date with her former crush.

"What about me?" She asks in pure confusion.

"Don't you like him?"

Maeve excessively sighs, "I told you I've moved on!"

She kicks your feet again, "Hurry! Say yes!"

You turn to look at Lana in her mixed purple-hued lights and hesitate to say yes. Not only it means you have to start it all over again, but also letting yourself open for another heartbreak.

"Would you like to attend?" Lana asks once again.

-

YOU: I'm not sure if I'm ready to try and restart [sighs]

-

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[voidpacifist]

viktor headcanons

[modern-ish edition + meljayvik because I cannot resist, also I'm desperate to see more unhinged little ideas about him outside of being everyone's favorite blorbo. we should fear that man and this is my thesis]

learned a weird amalgamation of martial arts and self defense as a kid due to growing up in zaun. despite being in what was considered the "safer" part of the underground, his mother worried he wouldn't be safe on his own. his core strength and arm strength are absolutely ridiculous

in fact, one time he was hooking up with a fellow academy student, and by the time the whole affair was over with, he was hardly breaking a sweat while the other person was trying to catch their breath. he became somewhat of a local legend at frat parties because not only can he wear someone out for hours but, allegedly, he's real freaky with it too

knows the exact monetary value of different human body organs on the black market. whether or not this is from experience is something jayce and mel are unable to determine. vi is also knowledgeable of this and has traded tragic backstories with him in detail

has had to kill a man before, and tells this to jayce frequently to win petty arguments (jayce never actually believes him, even though it is fully and one hundred percent true). it doesn't work on mel

jayce and mel have a secret chart written of how many substances viktor has tried and with how much frequency. weed is at the top of the list, with alcohol being shockingly low. in spite of coming from a slavic background, viktor didn't learn how to hold very much liquor without feeling ill, but for some reason is fine with the illicit psychedelics that grow naturally in the undercity near the runoff tunnels. so far the list is nearly half a page long

will not hit anyone with his mobility aids but will ABSOLUTELY find ways to blackmail and hustle his way out of embarrassment. he learned the blackmailing skill from mel, and frequently looks to her for information since she somehow knows the most about the student body

extremely morbid sense of humor. jokes about being fatherless/motherless behavior and then hits you with, "I would know :]." mel is an honorary member of the motherless behavior banter, considering her own mother disowned her shortly before she came to piltover

taking care of one another is equal parts give and take with him, jayce, and mel, but it's never in a way that demeans each other or exploits each other's weaknesses. for example, viktor hates being carried or manhandled without consent and finds it incredibly patronizing if someone assumes he needs help without just asking him (common sense, but the student body is full of ableist sharks). if he's having a bad pain day or is finding it hard to move, he and jayce (or he and mel, depending on time and place) have a system for getting him to or from somewhere without drawing much attention and even have specific "I need help but don't want to be stared at about it" phrases

father's half of the family is slavic and mother's half of the family is romani. cannot follow a recipe unless it has specific measurements, but can improvise ANY stew or potato based dish with little more than his nose and a few kitchen tools. jayce can improvise any dish, but will always somehow overdo the spice if it calls for spice. mel is happy to try any and everything they make (on her birthday, she's spoiled with their attempts at making the ethnic food from her family, and she'll never tell them but she's very touched by their efforts)

owned ONE pet in his life and it was a hamster. instead of freaking out over it's death, he studied it's body post mortem until his father declared it a biohazard and forced him to dispose of it

learned most of his chemists knowledge from a disgraced former academy professor, but taught himself everything else he knows (if he couldn't get access to it in school). including, for fun, how to preserve and analyze body parts. he initially wanted to be a surgeon or biomedical engineer, but then stuck with chemistry (specifically regarding infectious diseases) to try and find a cure for the grey

shows up randomly at jayces or mels dorms at strange hours in the evening/morning. the first time he showed up at mel's, she thought a burglary was being attempted. he made it out with a bad knock to the head, but she did make him tea in the aftermath as an apology (he hated it but drank the whole thing anyway)

gets stoned with jinx on the weekends, since she's the only one who can find him good, ethically sourced weed. he pays her back by teaching her things he's learning and researching at the academy

meljayvik + caitvi + timebomb dates but they have to find a way to rent out the whole place because each and every one of them has Some Kind of History with the other academy students even though jinx and ekko are still a couple years shy of college age

viktor threw up at the distinguished innovators competition because jayce did first. it was a whole disaster. they spent hours after the ordeal hyping each other up on gatorade and pure adrenaline. it was the physically worst jayce has ever felt around viktor but far from the worst viktor has ever felt around jayce. this was just days after the two of them met mel, and she spent the rest of the evening forcing them to sleep or eat something that wasn't "pure chemicals." somehow, this ended in a heated debate between herself and viktor about the validity of gatorade as a substantial meal. he still refuses to admit he lost

I've said this before and I'll say it again: he has a closet full of ramen. mel takes from his stash often

can run on caffeine and very little sleep to the point where he is physically incapable of resting like a normal human being without feeling drained. flu season is absolute hell

showed up to one of his lectures shirtless once because he was in a hurry. fed everyone who looked at him funny the most outrageous sob story about how "weak" he was, then laughed about it with mel and jayce like an absolute sociopath for days about it. jayce did not find it altogether very funny. mel and him still joke about it

beat vi in an arm wrestling contest before he got sick. still almost beat her after his diagnosis too, but still took the betting money anyway. she'll never admit she's slightly terrified of him, but it shows

can wield many different kinds of knives but is terribly clumsy when it comes to other weapons like clubs and swords and staffs. tapped out of adaptive sports within his first week because it was "boring him." spent the next month teaching martial arts to his fellow disabled peers until the board made it an official extracurricular

turned sky down in the nicest but most insane way possible. nobody knows what happened or how, just that they ended up spending MORE time together after the fact and that it involved illicit activities. the rumors were insufferable for weeks. and wildly funny

(please feel free to add more, I'm gonna start a collection)

[sterifels-blog]

creepypasta characters – how they’d react to you being upset over a small inconvenience 🤏

BEN drowned

•mocking sarcasm: “oh no, did the big scary printer jam again? total apocalypse. truly.” what became clear in his death, was he did, in fact, take his childish personality with him. he is no better than jeff when it comes down to teasing you for your dismays.

•playful teaser. he glitches around the room, mimicking your upset tone in a distorted voice, just to annoy you. it's spiteful, a little ignorant, but it's something you've come to grow used to. some things were just inevitable with BEN, and his torment was one of those things.

•offers digital comfort. BEN hacks a random game to create a hidden message for you, like “cheer up, loser.” if you don't reciprocate any sort of reaction back- you best believe he will be petty enough to rig a match for you. not so you can win, no. so you lose. just to agitate you again.

•awkward, awkward softness: if you’re seriously upset, he stammers, “hey, uh, don’t cry. i… don’t know how to deal with that.” very likely, he panics and goes to grab someone like jack or jane.

•weird with distractions. he'll float around, humming the zelda theme song until you laugh or throw something at him. if it works, it works. either way, you're too focused on smiling, or trying to hit him.

•over-the-top suggestion: “want me to corrupt their computer files? that’ll show them.”

•king of small gestures. leaves a pixelated heart drawn in a game you’re playing, then pretends it wasn’t him.

bloody painter:

•he observes quietly. sits in eerie silence, studying your emotions like he’s painting a mental portrait.

•when he is finished staring (although, admittedly, he does quite like the sight of you), he will offer some deadpan advice:

•“if it doesn’t matter in five years, it’s not worth ruining your eyeliner over.”

•if verbal reassurance doesn't do it for you, willingly, he'll engage in a paint-based gesture for his angel. he draws something comforting or silly (alternatively, absolutely crude) on a scrap of paper and hands it to you without a word, hoping it makes some difference.

•dark humor (where it is, and isn't appropriate.) “want me to take care of whoever pissed you off?” half-joking. maybe. if you say no, there is some genuine disappointment left lingering in his eyes. a missed opportunity to stock-up.

•unexpected comfort. gently touches your face and says some cheesy bullshit like, “the colors of sadness suit you, but i’d rather see you smile". he knows he's succeeded in making you feel something other than upset, when you are pressing your palm against his face and pushing him away with a groan of annoyance.

•will go extreme measures to make you a distracting gift. offers to paint you something. it’s his way of saying sorry.

•serious effort: if you’re really upset, he’ll spend hours creating something meaningful to cheer you up. although you'd clearly specified you didn't want him to maul the poor man who'd taken the last pint of your favorite ice cream flavor; the red coating of the little house he'd made you (in respect to the small abode you will "most definitely have" together), spoke otherwise to him listening.

•it's fucking disgusting, but don't discard it. it's the.. 'sweetest' way he shows that he cares.

clockwork:

•chaotic comfort. immediately threatens to stab whatever inconvenienced you. “who do i need to ‘fix’ for this?”

•pactical help (or a lack thereof): she does actually try to solve the problem for you, but gets frustrated if it’s not instant.

•(unhelpful) teasing: “aww, does my little clock need winding? let’s fix your mood.”

•joking aggression: “you’re upset? try getting stabbed in the eye and tell me how you feel". she soon after realizes this probably wasn't the best way to get through to you, and instead resorts to gently carding her fingers through your hair, sitting in an awkward silence after.

•when the silence gets to be too much, the most rational conclusion she could come up with was a random distraction. tosses something shiny or makes a loud noise to snap you out of it, almost, most definitely getting a sick kick of amusement when you jump in a startle.

•clumsy affection: roughly pulls you into a hug afterwards and says, “you’ll be fine. i’ve seen you handle worse.”

•this is shortly after followed by a soft admission. “i don’t like seeing you like this. it’s weird.” no sympathy on her face, just her nose being scrunched up in discomfort. but you can tell she means her words.. more for her sake.

eyeless jack

•jack is a quiet observer. he always has been, and will be. he notices you’re upset but waits for you to bring it up, not wanting to push you down a further slope than you were already on.

•when you finally begin to talk to him, for the most part, he simply listens. but if he notices it's getting to be too much, he'll offer some gentle reassurance: his voice is calm, almost nonchalant as he says, “it’s okay. you can talk to me.” he means it.

•words aren't easy for him. he's used to being silent, tucked away to the confines of his laboratory. it's why he chooses a more physical approach. cooking comfort. jack makes you a meal without being asked—though you might not want to know the ingredients. just eat it, and thank him.

•when he does speak, he offers the most practical advice out of the bunch: “you’ll survive. you’re stronger than whatever this is.”

•he's cold, but caring: “if it’s not life-threatening, it’s not worth worrying about. but... i get it.”

•soft-spoken comfort: stays close by, quietly grounding you with his presence. he'll offer you a spot in his laboratory for the time being, leaving you to watch as he hustles and bustles about. he isn't a fan of people in his space- in the slightest. but for you, he doesn't mind the company, so long as it helps. he won't directly admit it, but seeing you upset does something to his heart.

•it unfortunately, wouldn't be jack without some out of pocket, and highly untimed dark humor. he's working on his current 'patient', his scalpel against the lining of their abdomen when he would pause, as though an idea surfaced.

•“would harvesting an organ cheer you up? no? worth a shot.”

hoodie

•takes a more casual approach compared to the others. nudges your shoulder and says some nonchalant shit like; “what’s got you so down?”

•followed by some super-chill reassurance: “it’s not the end of the world. i’ve seen worse.”

•says it in a tone that makes him sound like he genuinely doesn't give a fuck, and is instead saying it in prayer god gives him a second chance for being 'kind'. he does, genuinely care however. he wouldn't have asked if he didn't.

•when he realizes it's something 'trivial' (in his mind), he'll give you some lighthearted distraction. hoodie offers to hang out or go on a random drive to take your mind off it. if you accept to hang out, you're both watching some rag-tag channel that your old, boxy ass television could pull up. it's absolutely shit. if you accept the drive, the radio is on, playing some old song that helps you clear your mind. the two of you definitely get going.

•if it's not the radio you're focused on, it's his singing. it's either god awful, and it makes you want to die more than whatever inconvenienced you at first, or he should have been a choir boy.

•snack attack: you two pull into a gas station along the way to fill up the old piece of rust. he goes in, comes back out with a pack of cigarettes and some chips in hand. he'll carelessly throw the bag of chips at you and say, “here. don’t say i never do anything for you.”

•soft teasing: “you’re cute when you’re mad, but let’s not make it a habit.”

•followed by some subtle care: puts his hoodie around your shoulders if you look especially down, or you're out late on your drive and it's getting cold.

jason the toymaker

•100% makes a toy bribe: instantly offers to make you a custom toy to cheer you up. “what’s your favorite color again?” it's cheesy, but it does have it's odd way of working it's magic.

•jason can get into quite an overprotective mode, often getting himself frustrated when he cant disect the root of your problem. “what caused this? tell me so I can fix it." .. "am i going to kill them..? what does it matter?"

•the answer is yes. yes, he is.

•soft-spoken comfort: “don’t worry. i’ll always take care of you.” he has a way of reassuring you even when you have your doubts, almost with an expertise that surprises you. if you were ever questioning his genuinity, he's answered for you.

•possessive guilt-tripper. “i don’t like seeing my favorite person like this. smile for me, will you?” he's sweet, in the worst of ways. jason knew all he had to do was flash you that charming smile of his, and you'd bend to his will. it was both a curse and a blessing.

•makes up some distracting hobby. he invites you to join him on a whim in making something to calm your nerves. (he definitely ends up taking over your craft.)

•encourages gentle insistence much like bloody painter. “you’re allowed to be upset, but not for long. it doesn’t suit you.”

•creepy but.. comforting? reassurance: “nothing bad can happen to you while i’m here. i'll make sure of it.” you aren't allowed out of his sights for a while.

jeff the killer

•mockery overload. “aww, you’re upset? should I call the waaah-mbulance?” he's a fucking asshole and he knows it, but his emotional boundaries hold no shame. if you knew any better, you would think he didn't care if he made you feel better or worse.

•teasing to comfort: purposefully annoys you until you either laugh or yell at him. he is 100%, more than likely aiming for the latter, getting a sick sense of satisfaction from knowing you're wound up now because of him. “see? you’re not upset anymore!”

•he's a twat with territorial anger: if it’s someone else’s fault, he’s immediately ready to fight, thinking of the most irrational ways to kill someone for your sake (though there is already nothing rational about him). “who do i need to carve a smile into?”

•though a selfish sod, he does have some genuinely surprising softness when it comes to you. if you’re genuinely upset, he awkwardly wraps his arm around your shoulder and says, “it’s fine. just... chill, okay?” he's rubbing your back until his hand is numb, or you become agitated.

•clumsy reassurance: “you’ve got me, so who cares about dumb stuff like that?”

•even throughout the comforting, his offer of violence still stands. “say the word, and i’ll make it disappear. permanently.”

•jeff is the absolute fucking worst for guilt deflection. if he caused the inconvenience, he’ll deny responsibility, but quietly try to make it better. he sees admitting to his faults as a weakness, but a few hours later, when he‐ again‐, sees your mood hasn't improved— he's begrudgingly coming over and taking your hand to apologize. his words are lazy sounding, but they are true. it pisses him off that he has to go such lengths to make you feel better, but in the end, it's you. so he'll cope.

jane the killer

•she is a direct comfort sort of woman: “what’s wrong? talk to me.”

•when she notices its an re-occuring issue bothering you more than usual, she'll go into problem-solving mode. jane listens carefully and offers solutions, even if you just want to vent. she loves listening to you talk, even if it's under more unfortunate circumstances.

•has a protective streak much like her male counterpart: “if it’s someone else’s fault, i’ll handle it.” and she means it

•queen of tough love. it's her kingdom. “you’re stronger than this. don’t let it get to you.” she's seen too many people react irrationally because of minor inconveniences (jeff), and she would hate to see you deliberately get into trouble because of something as 'simple' as frustration.

•silent presence: if words won’t help, she stays with you until you feel better. if your room is a mess, she'll clean your clothes off the floor, fold, and carry your laundry to the washer while you relax on your bed. she won't let you leave until she's positive you're at least feeling a little better about your situation, and even then, she's by your side for most the day.

•though she can be just as stubborn as anyone else, jane does make a soft admission: “i hate seeing you so upset. tell me how to help.”

•makes some gentle distraction (unlike clockwork): she suggests watching a movie or doing something fun together to lift your spirits. she will likely end up doing your makeup, the two of you on the floor together until your spirits start to rise.

laughing Jack (i hate this motherfucker)

•over-the-top antics because he's just like that, unfortunately. he's a piece of shit, but tries to make you laugh with ridiculous jokes or obnoxious pranks. a for effort, i guess. he's giving it his best shot.

•much like jeff, being a complete dick, there is that aspect of mock concern: “oh no! we must alert the circus of your sorrow!” sarcastic cunt.

•there is some aspect of unexpected sweetness with him, i would think (hope). if you’re genuinely upset, he tones it down and says, “hey, I don’t like seeing you like this.”

•he's crouching down onto his knees as you sit on the edge of your bed, his large, ugly ass hands cupping your face the best he can without shanking you with his gross, long fingers. his thumbs 'gently' rub your cheeks as he let's you breathe your frustration out.

•clownish ass distractions: pulls out a random toy or silly object to cheer you up. from out of fuck-all nowhere, he pulls a doll out from behind its back. it's even more hideous than him, which is difficult. it's stuffing is gruesomely ripped out, instead, packed full with grotesque looking candies. he'll awkwardly discard it on the floor when he sees it's only made your mood worse. what an idiot.

•chaotic energy: “let’s go do something fun! or dangerous! or both!”

•you don't feel like doing anything

•gentle honesty: “i'm not good at this comforting stuff, but I’m here for you.”, even though you already knew that. though the semblance is appreciated.

kagekao

•you're still a victim of playful mockery. "you look adorable when you’re mad. like a tiny storm cloud". he's mocking you while you want to punch him into a smear.

•teasing distractions. he pokes at your cheeks or steals something of yours to make you chase him. he genuinely does not care that you feel murderous tendencies towards him at the moment. it's his life mission to torment you eternally.

•jovial comfort: “don’t worry, i’ll take care of everything. or, at least, pretend I did.”

•surprise gifts. when he knows he's pushed you too far, he will opt to leave you a random (sometimes unsettling) trinket to cheer you up. he knows he's the source of your agitation, so he tries his 'best' to make up for it.

•more lighthearted annoyance. “you know i can’t take you seriously when you’re pouting like that, right?”

•unexpected wisdom from someone who is such a cunt to deal with. “life’s too short to stress over these things. laugh it off.”

•silently lurks nearby until you calm down, offering his silent presence as comfort.

masky

•masky will often show a reluctant concern, not outright admitting he's worried about your fluctuating attitude, but instead inviting you to chat. “what’s wrong now?” his tone is gruff, but he genuinely cares.

•practical help: masky fixes the problem (if possible) without saying much about it; especially when it comes down to it being an issue with anything containing an engine. if you're frustrated by an issue you're having with your vehicle, calmly, he'll tell you to give him the keys, and if he's feeling nice enough, he'll invite you out to hold the flashlight for him. just make sure you keep it steady.

•vaguely annoyed, but supportive: “seriously? you’re upset over that? fine, let’s deal with it.” he's the type to teach you about fixing your own issues, so you'll know how to deal with it next time.

•protective side: “if you need help with this, come to me. you don't need to be going to.. random guys to fix your car."

•he's definitely jealous at the thought of you going to anyone else for help but him.

•silent comfort if it's anything else that physically, he cant fix. he sits near you, not saying a word but making it clear he’s there for you.

•backhanded affection: “you’re too stubborn to let this keep you down, right?” he knows you'll take it as he's doubting you; and that you'll smarten up quick.

•masky gives you grudging hugs. awkwardly, he pulls you into a hug if you’re really upset— often on the porch as he's having a smoke. you'll be sitting on the steps, tucked up to his side. if he feels nice enough- his jacket will end up slung over your shoulders.

slenderman

•i'm going to be flat with you, he does not care.

•but if he did, he would be calm and composed. it doesn’t affect him, so he has no reason to reacf but to calm you down. “you’re letting this get to you? that’s beneath you.” he sounds unamused.

•stoic support. slenderman offers silent reassurance with his unyielding presence. sometimes he's there, sometimes he isn't. but, you always have that lingering feeling of him being close by. it's both comforting and frightening.

•intimidation tactic: “shall i remove the source of your distress?” he’s deadly serious, for the most part.

•he's slightly patronizing. he doesn't really grasp a sense of confliction about this like you do. he doesn't really get why you're making such a fuss over something so blatant. “this is not worth your energy. focus on what truly matters.”

•both helps and frustrates you more. sometimes it's pointless to explain to him.

•..somewhat gentle understanding. if you’re truly distressed, he places a hand on your shoulder and will tell you to excuse yourself from any activities later in the day.

•eerie distraction: creates a serene yet unnerving environment to take your mind off things. the effort is.. there.

•cryptic advice: “all things are temporary. even this feeling.”

ticci toby

•dry sarcasm “wow, the world’s ending because of this. guess we should all panic.” his tone is teasing but not mean-spirited. he just doesn't understand that it's truly bothering you to that extent, until you breakdown to him.

•gentle understanding: “yeah, okay, I get it. sometimes the little stuff just… builds up.” he leans back and listens without pushing you. he knows you're already overwhelmed, and makes it a point to give you some space while still being there.

•subtle comfort. he offers you his jacket or quietly sits beside you, muttering, “you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i'm not going anywhere.” like masky, he keeps you close to his side, whether sitting on a log or walking down the path. he'll encourage you to hold onto his arm.

•toby has a protective streak: “tell me who or what caused this. i’ll take care of it.” his voice is calm, but there’s an edge that means he’s serious. he doesn't like the idea of anyone pushing you around— only he can play around with you like that.

•gounding presence: if you’re spiraling, he places a hand on your shoulder or holds your hand. “breathe, okay? just focus on me for a minute.” too many times he's had to do this by himself. he understands the complications of losing yourself— and if you don't have to go through it alone, he won't allow you to.

•dull humor to lighten the mood. "if it makes you feel better, i've probably done something way stupider than whatever you’re upset about.”

•quiet reassurance: “you’ll get through this. you always do. it’s not as big as it feels right now, i promise.” he speaks softly but firmly, making sure you know he’s in your corner. he always is and will be. he's a bit more gentle than the rest.

[reallyromealone]

Title: quirkless

Fandom: Tokyo revengers, bnha

Characters: mikey, power loader, reader

Fic type: reader insert, omegaverse

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, fluff, omegaverse, quirkless reader, Omega male reader, soulmate reader

Notes: this is a Patreon exclusive, all other chapters are on my patreon , I just thought this was a good way to advertise

Summary: on a rainy day, (name) decided to hide in an old shrine to get away from the rain but didn't expect to meet Mikey, a quirkless alpha

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The rain was heavy, (name) sighing while seeking cover inside the old shrine. The rain was clearly not going to let up and (name) couldn't let the documents in his bag get ruined... So he guessed he was hanging out here till it let up or his cousin could pick him up.

It was quiet in the shrine, deterioration over the years and he was frankly surprised it held up at all. ' might as well work on stuff while I'm waiting' he thought and pulled out his work, wanting to be helpful to his cousin and his projects "it would have to be... 'gari... You got this measurement off..." He mumbled and fixed his cousin's error without a care in the world, the iPhone his cousin bought him working as his calculator for this all.

He was thankful for his cousin taking him after everything, he was only in his 20s and took (name) in regardless.

It really meant a lot.

Especially with well... What (name) was.

A hero taking in a quirkless Omega?

Unheard of.

"You shouldn't be here" a voice called out and (name) snapped his head up to see a blond standing before him cold back eyes.

"I'm sorry?"

-

Mikey didn't know why he was compelled to show up to the old shrine, haven't been there since he was 16 and now at the age of 19 he still remembered every detail, parking his bike off and out of the rain and stepped up. Half way he turned around, a familiar vantage point and swore he heard the old Toman members call out before continuing up, those feelings pushed down and continued his climb to the shrine.

It was untouched by time, the graffiti Baji did still on the door and signatures they did on the wooden frame...

He traced Drakens carefully....

"'gari, I know you're smart but seriously what does this mean?! I don't speak your weird jot notes!"

Mikey was confused before walking in, footsteps silent and he couldn't help but stare at the Omega based off the collar, working away on some blueprints without a note of the world around him.

"You shouldn't be here" the words slipped out calmly and the Omega snapped his head up, clearly frustrated "I'm sorry?" The words coming out like a question, eyes locking.

Then he felt it.

And he could tell the Omega felt the same.

"You're not gonna want me" (name) said simply, trying to move this along... He always thought of this day, lifting a paper and trying to figure out the codes his cousin used "why would you assume I wouldn't?" Mikey asked pointedly and (name) snorted "quirkless male Omega... Not exactly the most wanted" (name) looked back at him.

"You're quirkless?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"So am I"

That made (name) halt "you are?"

"So why wouldn't I want you?"

(Name) Couldn't believe his ears, he didn't plan this one...

Mikey wasn't expecting to find himself chatting for hours with this mystery Omega who sat beside him and chatted with him like he was his oldest friend.

"So Mikey, are you even interested in pursuing this?" (Name) Asked genuinely, knees pulled up and head resting on his knee caps with a sweet smile that made Mikey's alpha swoon a bit.

"Do you want to?"

"I'm not sure, I never expected you to stick around... I always imagined my fated mate to be disappointed with the whole quirkless thing..."

"Same" Mikey never bothered since he was a child, focusing on toman and now Kanto... "Maybe take it slow?" (Name) Offered and Mikey huffed a laugh, something he hadn't done in years "take it slow? Sure" his life was fast and busy but for this stranger... He found himself willing to go slow for him.

When the rain inevitably lifted, (name) was happy "well, I better get going before my cousin thinks I'm dead or something" (name) offered his hand to Mikey to help him up, the Alpha taking his hand and the two directly before each other "you have an email?" (Name) Asked softly, the smell of burning wood and spices radiating off the alpha, making (name) feel hazy.

Mikey could smell the sweet scent of (scent) and already felt obsessed with every aspect of the Omega, not wanting him to leave already...

"Wanna meet here tomorrow? Same time?" (Name) Asked him looking at him with an expression that made Mikey want to kiss him,was this the cupids arrow he always heard about with soulmates?

"Yes."

[valyrfia]

I think Max will either retire or move to Ferrari in 2027

OUR LESBIAN FERRARI PROPHET SAYS SO? DROP THE TIMELINE

Okay okay anon walk with me.

So I think Lewis is Ready for Retirement. I think he would've retired at Mercedes, eighth championship be damned, if Mercedes had just given him an ambassador contract so he could've used his position and his brand for the causes he wants to dedicate the second half of his life to. As is, Mercedes refused to give him that contract (which, I could go on for AGES about how blindly ridiculous that is and is a clear marker of how far this sport still has to go re: racism)–but Ferrari did.

However, to be a Ferrari ambassador, a 2+1 year race contract accompanies it. Obviously this is a good move for Lewis anyway since it's looking like Ferrari will be one of the quickest teams moving into 2025 and Lewis must have some information on how they might nail the regulation change come 2026, but, and this may be controversial. Charles Leclerc is an established driver at Ferrari, the absolute darling of the tifosi (I mean, he's the second most important person in Italy after the literal pope), and most importantly he's a driver that has not yet hit his ceiling. Now, this is where I tread carefully, but I believe that Lewis, in comparison, is past his prime. Sure, he pulled off an incredible drive at Silverstone this year but he has not been able to match George–and George I believe is currently at a lower level than Charles. I have a sneaking suspicion that Charles is, well, going to walk all over Lewis next year. And if Lewis truly has only moved for the sake of the ambassador contract, he'll break the racing contract after 2 years.

Okay but Ollie is supposedly lined up for that Ferrari seat, and Ferrari NEED an order of succession, so who says that Max will take it?

Red Bull Racing is falling apart at the seams (sorry RB fans). Christian Horner is a power-hungry [REDACTED] who will bring the whole team down with him. The Thai side have never really cared about the Formula 1 team (and I know from Sources, backed Christian Horner in this whole fiasco which is why CH wasn't fired). Newey is gone, I'm sure other key figures will get pinched in the next couple of years, Max has kept everything together for pure skill this past year but the writing is on the wall. I'm going to hold everyone's hands when I say this, but I don't think Red Bull are winning either championships next year....

However, for as much as Max loves to talk about it, I don't think he's actually ready for retirement. I also don't think he'll be the type of guy to retire on a low. Max's contract is until 2028, but he can break it if he drops to P3 in the championship, which, I think there's a non-zero chance of happening in 2026 especially under new regulations/brand new engines.

So Ferrari are likely going to nail the new regs, Max doesn't want to retire on a low, and it looks like Ferrari shopping for a driver and Max wanting to leave Red Bull will line up within roughly the same window.

There's also a couple of sentimental reasons I want to point to. Max (as much as he tries to deny it) is a victim of the old Red Bull Golden Boy curse of being a Ferrari fan. I mean, he literally grew up in the Schumacher era, with his father being friends with Schumacher. He's stated multiple times how if he can't hear the Dutch anthem on the podium he'd like to hear the Italian one. I suspect deep down, he's much more of a tifoso than any of us realise.

There's also the Charles Leclerc of it all. Now really walk with me here because this is tenuous and yes is coming from a known Lestappie (tomato tomato) but isn't really a Lestappen argument.

Charles throughout his entire career has been obsessed with measuring himself up against those who are considered the "best of the best" and showing that he can beat them. He ate Seb alive, he'll likely do the same with Lewis. But both of these are drivers past their primes, at the very end of their lifespans. Charles has still yet to prove he can go toe to toe with a great at their prime and win.

Charles is, literally obsessed, with comparing himself to Max in interviews. Now (RIGHTLY SO) we Lestappies all point and laugh and call him a little obsessed but there's a very real publicity reason he wants to insist to everyone how him and Max were on each other's level in karting–people will subconsciously start to associate Charles as being on Max's level even if he hasn't proven it with championships. It's a very calculated move by Charles, and one I haven't seen many people discuss. Charles wants his name and Max's to be said in the same sentence because it validates Charles' own skill.

But Charles doesn't want to be known as Max's equal, not really, what he really wants is to be considered better than Max. And if he can't do that through number of championships, he can do it by putting the two of them in equal machinery. I think Charles will actually push Ferrari into trying to sign Max, because this is the way he can cement himself firmly as one of the greatest F1 drivers of all time.

So I think a perfect storm of these combination of different factors will result in a Max to Ferrari move in 2027. Obviously all pure speculation, but drawing everything together, I'd give it maybe a 50% chance (providing Ferrari actually do come together which, Forza).

[willsimpforanyone]

can I request Leo Valdez smut?

he starts getting handsy at a party with a hyperfem reader in a short skirt and they go at it in a bathroom.

-🐿️

i can definitely do that for u, this one got away from me and i think u can tell i mostly read smut lmao

have u declared urself squirrel anon? or is that just what u use lmao

content: no mention of protection (be smart y'all), coming inside, mirror sex ig?, orgasm denial (just once, fem recieving), exhibitionism if u squint, she/her pronouns for reader

---------------------

For the tenth time, I push Leo's hand out from under the hem of my skirt. I lace my fingers with his, keeping his hand still under the guise of being affectionate as I continue the conversation I'm in the middle of.

Of course, with one avenue shut down, my ever-creative boyfriend finds a new tactic; his other hand.

His fingers sneak around my waist, fingertips just tracing over the hem of my crop top, nails catching lightly at the pale pink fabric. I don't even need to look at him to know he's barely suppressing a smirk.

"Keep your hands under control," I whisper to him once the conversation has moved away from me. "I don't want to spend the night adjusting my clothes from your groping."

Leo stifles a laugh, head turning to nose at my cheek. "Then don't adjust them, let me see more of you." His hand on my waist slips upward, fingertips barely brushing the side of my chest.

"I'm gonna kill you," I hiss, but a smile keeps pulling traitorously at my lips. His hand in mine squeezes at my fingers, inching our joined hands over my thigh.

His voice is soft and a little raspy, hot against my ear. "Fine, but can I fuck you first?"

I sputter a shocked laugh, whipping my head around to see the tempting glint in his eyes, paired with the teasing smirk on his lips. Raising an eyebrow in disblief, I dart my eyes over the rest of the room full of people.

"...are you being serious?"

It's as if something lights up in him, sitting up straighter and tightening his hold on me just a little. "I wasn't, but I am now!" He grins, teeth biting at his lower lip. "Can I? Holy shit, can I actually fuck you right now?"

That's too many things said way too loud for my dignity, and I smack a hand over his mouth to stem the flow of excitement. "If you shut the fuck up, maybe."

Leo nods earnestly behind my hand, eyes wide with anticipation. He pulls my hand away to give it a kiss on my knuckles. "I'll never talk again."

"...sounds highly unlikely," I laugh, standing up and smoothing down my skirt.

The speed at which Leo navigates through the party to an empty bathroom is suspicious, almost as if he'd planned it, or was maybe so needy he'd kept an eye on which rooms were empty. The minute the door shuts and locks with a click, his hands are on me, lips pressed hotly against mine. My back gets pushed against the door and I gasp, Leo taking advantage of my surprise to deepen the kiss and lick into my mouth.

He tastes of whatever dumb cocktail he'd made us earlier, declaring himself a professional mixologist because he was good at measurements. My eyes flutter closed, hands running up his chest and into his hair, drawing a soft moan from him.

"So pretty," he breathes, words pressed between kisses, his hands tugging and fisting my clothes like he can't quite decided what to do with them. "Can't believe I let you go to this party without ruining you first."

"Let me?" I tease, pretending to be offended and half-heartedly pushing him away with a hand on his chest. Leo whines at the disconnection of our lips.

"You know what I mean," he murmurs, pressing me harder against the door and working his hands under my crop top. "Wear whatever the fuck you want, but it's gonna make me go insane."

I laugh, cutting myself off with a soft, short moan as he gets two handfuls of my chest, squeezing and groping as he pants against my lips. With a swift movement, he shoves my top up under my arms, revealing the dark pink bra, the tiny gemstone in the centre glinting in the bathroom light.

"Fucking hell, baby-" He almost whimpers, eyes fixed on the swell of my tits under the pretty garment. "You want me dead, is that it?"

Just to really drive it home, I lean in so my lips are pressed against his ear. "You like it? I was worried you'd be able to see it through my clothes, but I guess not, luckily my skirt is just long enough to hide the matching underwear."

I briefly worry for his knees as Leo falls to the floor, and I giggle as he drags my skirt unceremoniously down my legs. As promised, the matching dark pink panties are on display, gemstone on the front and all.

One of Leo's hands goes to my thigh, and his other hand guides one of mine to his shoulder. "Hold on, pretty girl."

Before I can get another word out, his mouth is on me, tongue licking a broad stroke over my underwear. My hand fists the shoulder of his shirt, a loud gasp pulled from my lips as he buries his head between my thighs. His free hand yanks the thin, damp fabric out the way, holding it as he laps at my pussy with an almost feverish intensity.

My stomach swoops deliciously as he circles my clit with the tip of his tongue, head falling forward and hips bucking against his mouth. His brown eyes meet mine as he looks up from below me, and I can see the delight and desire in his eyes as he sees me cover my mouth when he slips a finger inside me.

His tongue circles and strokes at my bundle of nerves, long finger pushing in and out of my hole and curling at the perfect spot to get my legs trembling. The familiar knot in my gut tightens further and further, my walls spasming around Leo's fingers as he slips another one inside me.

"B-Baby, 'm gonna come-" I pant behind my hand, gazing down at him desperately. "Gonna m-make me come, fuck-"

He pulls his fingers out, tongue slipping back in his mouth with a dirty grin. "No, not yet."

"What?" My jaw drops, frustration taking the place of the pleasurable tension in my stomach. "Come on, I was so close!"

"I know." Leo shrugs, before standing up and grabbing my waist to bend me over the bathroom counter. His hand tangles in my hair, the other yanking my panties down my thighs to my knees as he stands behind me. "You're gonna come on my cock."

I moan at his voice, the words so matter-of-fact, like there were no other options; either I was gonna come on his dick, or not at all. Skirt discarded on the floor and underwear out the way, Leo undoes his pants with one hand, shoving them down along with his underwear. The way he sighs in relief as he wraps a hand around himself makes a shiver run up my spine, biting my lip as I watch his reflection throw its head back.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that?" he murmurs, looking down and nudging his tip between my legs, moaning lowly at the way my arousal coats the head of his dick. "How do I even function when you're so gorgeous in your cute little tops and tiny fuckin' skirts?"

I don't know if I'm supposed to reply, but I can't when he presses into me, both of us moaning in unison. He doesn't look away as my pussy swallows his cock inch by inch, his hands gripping tight to my hips.

"I lasted two hours," he pants, groaning low in his throat as his hips meet mine, sinking as deep as he can into my cunt. "Two hours needing to be in this pretty little pussy, I think that's pretty good considering my distinct lack of impulse control."

My eyes roll back as he suddenly snaps his hips, a sharp moan falling from my lips. "T-Two hours? We've only been here- shit!- an hour and a half?"

"Yeah, well," Leo laughs breathlessly, beginning to build up a rhythm, letting go of my hips to brace himself against the bathroom counter as he fucks me into it. "Wanted you before we even left the house, the second I saw you looking like this-" He punctuates his sentence with a particularly harsh thrust, a yelp catching in my throat as I scramble for purchase against the surface of the counter. "-and now I can't decide whether to take you home or f-fill you up with my come and make you go back to the party."

A rush of heat pulses through me and I clench around him involuntarily, gasping unsteadily, dizzy at the image he conjured up in my mind. I feel him laughing lowly against my back, his nose burying into the crook of my neck.

"Dirty fuckin' girl, you got tighter," he teases, hips getting faster, snapping his cock into me over and over, a hand reaching down to find my clit. "Is that what you want? Want me to pull your cute pink panties up and hold my load inside you, trying not to ruin your skirt?"

His middle finger gathers the wetness from my folds and smears it over my clit, making smooth circling motions that send electricity through my body. "F-Fuck, yes, don't stop," I whimper, catching his eye in the mirror and moaning brokenly at his dark, mischievious smirk. "I'm gonna c-come, want you to come inside me, L-Leo, please, baby, wanna h-have your come!"

Leo swears several times in Spanish, hot and fast against my ear as his hips stutter against mine. "That's it, pretty girl, come around my dick, wanna feel it, come for me and I'll fill you up, okay?"

I nod frantically, and it only takes a few more seconds of his finger playing with my clit before I feel that knot in my gut break, pulled too tight as I spasm between him and the bathroom counter. My whole body trembles, and Leo sinks his teeth lightly into my shoulder. "Feels so good, h-holy shit, did so good for me, there we go..."

He lets out a gutteral groan against my skin, his hips stuttering to a stop as he pulses inside me, thick come painting my insides. His arms wrap around me, nosing against my neck as he rocks his hips a little, panting hard.

After a few moments, the aftershocks settling, Leo eases himself out of me, shushing my soft whines with kisses pressed to my shoulder and neck. His fingers move to my hole, gently pushing against it to stop his come from spilling out too much as his free hand carefully pulls my panties back up my legs.

"My beautiful girl," he murmurs, voice thick with affection as he adjusts the fabric to make sure it's comfortable, kneeling for a moment to press a gentle kiss to my pussy over the panties. He helps me off the counter, arms around me as he litters kisses over my cheeks and nose until I giggle. "There it is, that's my favourite sound."

"Cheesy," I whisper, tone stupidly loving as I grin up at him, arms slinging around his neck. "Are we really gonna go back out there and pretend nothing happened while I ruin my underwear?"

A pause, and he shrugs. "I'll buy you more."

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i hope u enjoyed, this kind of got away from me but i'm not mad about it