#i don't know how to tag this I'm so sorry

[queerdraco]

[bucktommyscones]

Post 8x5 fic because Lou said so. (Not really, but kind of.) This got a little hornier than I'm sure we would have gotten, but you know, when in Rome. Also, isn't it great how the season ended with this ep? What an awfully short season. Oh well.

"No."

Tommy can't see him from where he's navigating them back to Evan's place, but he just knows he's pouting. After nearly six months, his Evan senses are always tingling.

"Oh come on," Evan whines. "Just pull over into an overlook or something. Bet I can get you off in no time."

Tommy snorts a laugh. "I'm sorry, is that supposed to make me want to do it? I thought you had a better sense of my abilities than that, Boil Boy."

Evan considers this and Tommy can see his grin out of his peripheral vision. He should look ridiculous with those damn things on his face, but he looks like an adorable brat, which is as per usual these days.

"Okay, that didn't come out right."

"No one's coming any time soon," Tommy says, turning on his signal to change lanes.

Evan snickers. "Fine, fine. No public sex for us. I get it. Can I get you out of that suit and get your dick in my mouth when we get to my place?"

Tommy reaches over and pinches his thigh, gratified when Evan jumps a little.

"Hey! Rude."

"Why are you so horny all of a sudden?"

"All of a sudden? I thought you knew me by now, Tommy."

Tommy laughs again. "Okay, okay."

"Besides," Evan says, and if Tommy isn't mistaken, his voice sounds...hesitant? "I just want to thank you. You know, for driving three hours from home to go to a dead outlaw's funeral."

Tommy feels himself melt. "You don't have to thank me. I enjoyed it."

"You did?" Evan sounds surprised.

"Seeing you in your element all cute and earnest? Getting to spend time with you? I'll do it any time."

Evan runs a hand through the hair on the back of Tommy's head, affectionate and warm. He loves it when Evan does that.

"How can you possibly think I'm cute right now?" Evan wonders and this is not the first time he's asked.

"I always think you're cute. Even when you're gross."

Evan's laugh is infectious and Tommy laughs with him. He leans forward in his seat and smacks a kiss to Tommy's cheek. "I like you, Tommy Kinard."

"I like you too, Evan Buckley," Tommy says. "Chinese on the way home?"

"Sounds good," Evan confirms. "Wanna make out on the couch and watch a movie? Then I can get your dick in my mouth?"

Tommy grins because watching a movie always turns into something else. "You're on."

tag list:

@desert--moonchild @sazzynatural, @multishippinghussy, @mmso-notlikethat, @esendoran

@sunnywithachanceofbi, @sleepywinchesters, @buck-up-buckley, @manifestingchaoticvibes, @corvid-cryptidd

@lbltpsmspenguin, @theotherbuckley, @cliophilyra, @actuallyitsellie, @thecarrott

@talktonytome, @misstommykinard, @the-omniscient-narrator, @bobbinsnash, @a-mel0n

@hyperfocusthusly, @mayorjack, @marvelousbuckley, @swagmaster9k

@byunbuckjunmy, @rutathenurse, @sluttytommykinard, @bidisasterevankinard

[bunnys-kisses]

hiii ! how are u? I would like to order a pastry braid and english muffin with a side of tonic water, w max verstappen

thank uu x

bakery menu!!

want to suggest your own order? then hit up the menu! there are tons of things to choose from. i am working through the suggestions after a slight break so i will be posting them more often. updates usually go up fridays to sundays at 6pm est! i hope you enjoy this little fic! this is set in the team principal au (which usually happens with a max age gap fic) but it's not connected to the rest of the tp au that i have going, just it's own little thing! <3

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work." + english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?" + tonic water: age gap served by max verstappen (formula one)

tags: smut/pwp, tp!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), crying (kink), rough sex, power dynamics, doggy style, max has high expectations for his driver, degrading language, possessive behavior

insatiable. that was what max would describe himself in relation to you. what he was when you were near. he was hungry for trophies, wins and most of all your sweet cunt. max had expected to leave the track years ago, but how could he? he had a re purpose, to make you a champion.

but even wills made of iron couldn't deny your appeal. how you looked in your fire proofs, the look you got when you lost of received a plenty, and the opposite look you gave when you tasted sweet victory. if max was the lion, then you were the wolf.

regardless, max still held power over you and you when he held your cheeks in one hand to face him, a domineering look in his eyes. he held you like he owned you, and with all those zeroes on your contract. he did in a way.

his arms wrapped around you and held you to his chest. in a moment of private after the grand prix, he held you the way a lover would. he couldn't help but take a quick grab of your breasts. you wined in response and max simply smiled.

"not the best," he said in your ear, "i counter five errors in your driving, on top of letting the williams' driver over take you for ten laps. i'm sorry, my price, you know what that means."

you nodded, "yes, sir. i understand." then shifted a little in his touch which only made him hold onto you tighter. you swallowed, even though you won the trophy, tonight wouldn't be about celebrating. it would be about punishment.

max's hotel room was next to yours, and you barely closed the door before he was trying to get your t-shirt off. large hands groped your breasts over your bras and he groaned into your neck.

"fuck, baby." he said, tension in his voice, "you could've been celebrating with the team, but instead you have to deal with the punishments." he pulled your bra over your head and grabbed your chest.

max liked your breasts, he loved how easy the skin bruised when he gave them too much attention. you ended up on the bed with max stripping you of your calvin klein jeans. he saw your exposed thighs, and the tattoo on your hip. lucky number thirty-three. max's old number.

he did have a claim over you, the kind of claim that not even a scandal could break. oh the media circus that would ensue if people found out about you two. if they found out you were fucking max, then max guessed he'd just have to marry you. not a big deal, he had a ring picked out and everything.

"you know what we have to do tonight. your job is to make me cum. now get to work." and soon your panties were pulled off and left on the edge of the bed. he started to strip himself down.

while your face in the pillows and your couldn't see your team principal, you could feel him. the soft of imposing power that left you feeling needy.

"i expect the best from you. you know that. i don't deal with those who aren't willing to push themselves to the best they can be. i know, you can easily be the best. but, i guess there is still a lot i have to teach you." max wasn't like this with any other driver, even if you retired tomorrow, you'd still be his favourite.

he admired your beauty with strokes of his cock. usually there would be a spanking, teasing or maybe a little bondage, but max was still running off the high of racing and he wanted you now. he sank his cock into you like it was his god given right. he was near double your age, but he still fucked you until you were an overstimulated mess.

you whined from the intrusion, you felt sharp pain. max wasn't small by any means. he was rather bulky, the kind of cock that bullied your insides. you felt a shiver of pain as you moaned into the sheets.

"aw, is someone crying?" his words were patronizing as he moved against you quickly. his stamina was still high, he fucked with the force of a bull that often left you feeling bruised inside and out. he had that ability over you. you leave you completely and utterly at his his mercy.

you swallowed, "not crying, sir." and arched your back, but max had you pressed against the bed. his pace only picked up as he rutted up against you.

the thing about max was that he was dominate. and you loved the power he had over you. he easily took you apart and let him make you feel like jelly as he fucked into you.

"you look better on my cock than in a car." he remarked, "better on your knees than the podium." he added as pleasure clouded his head. his thoughts were about how good you felt. how you clenched around him when he hit your g-spot.

you whined and sniffled a little from the ache. you weren't crying. rather whining from the intense feeling. the ache and the pleasure left your nerves feeling tense. you gasped when he hit a particular spot.

max loved when you whined, especially when there were sweet little tears in your ears. his little wolf all teary-eyed because he made you feel too good.

he pace continued and you felt on cloud nine, you sniffles continued and you were left needy for more. it was always more, you always needed more of him. something that max was more than happy to deliver on. how could he deny his driver. even when he thought you did poorly, he still had a soft spot for you.

"mmm, see you're good like this. i could just eat you alive. take you piece by piece. all mind." he chuckled with warmth in his gut, "next time you'll listen to me over the radio and in the garage." he arched your back further and made you feel the zap of pleasure up your spine and in your core.

having your team principal's support meant the world to you, even when you were panting and near crying under him. the pleasure climbed through your body and you felt the surge of want through you.

"please, sir." you arched your back further and your pulse picked up. face buried in the soft pillows while you let your boss fuck you with a heated drive.

he grasped the back of your head and pulled your head further into the pillows and his pace quickened, "you're forgiven. let this not be a lesson you forget." and continued to move against you, fucking you right into the mattress with heavy thrusts of his hips.

he yanked your hair a little and it amde you moan. only he could get away with something like that. yank, bite, slip, no other man could get away with that. but you gave max everything.

the movements continued and you felt amazing. the type of amazing that allowed you to feel to close to orgasm. you tensed up and felt the sweet release as you came. you needed max, you needed him in a way you could never need another.

your boss, your lover, your everything.

his movements left you needy and it wasn't long before you moaned loudly once more around his cock. the pleasure continued to wash through you like heavy waves. and it only made your lover fuck you quicker. max moved against you, near bounced you up and down on his cock. his noises were tense before he slammed every inch into you and finished.

"oh fuck." he groaned.

you gasped and weakly held onto the covers. you couldn't think of anything else besides max. max, max, max, he was the only thought in your head as he slowed to a stop. and then laid on top of you. he rutted his still hard cock into you which made you groan.

"i think there are a few more lessons i could teach you tonight before i really wear you out." those words were said like a promise <3

[haunted-headset-alt]

Hoii :) i saw that you liked making luci x reader mini stories and i LOVE THEM. I just have a tiny petite itty bity request for a new story. Id love to see either a story about him gicing us aome after care after spoicy time or apologizing after an argument. Take as much time as needed. Thank youuu <3

jealousy, jealousy ⊹ ࣪𐙚꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱｡⋆

summary: you recently got a new job working for Voxtech, causing you to come home late nearly every day. Lucifer's a bit angry that you keep missing dinner, which sparks an argument (word count: 1.3k).

warnings: mentions of Valentino, arguing/yelling (obviously), crying, swearing, accusations of cheating, Lucifer's kind of a jackass in the beginning, mentions of death (reader talks about life when they were alive), generally gn!reader terms

a/n: hello!! this is a really cute idea so tysm for requesting it! i'm really sorry i haven't gotten to other stories, I've been so busy 😭

tags: (as always, just tagging a few people i think would be interested in this, please let me know if you would like to be on or off of the taglist!) @o-kye @zuuriell @strangleetomz@ax-y10 @stars-around-scars-collective@blu3-lemonad3@myheartticks@mochamuff1n@unbeleevable@danvstheworld @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @average-vibe @back-totheoldhouse @prettysinners @lovevxle

You recently got a new job at one of the largest companies in Hell, Voxtech, as Vox's secretary. When you got the job, you mainly wanted to do it because of the pay, thinking that you wouldn't have to do much as a secretary.

But boy, you were wrong.

You rarely sat down during work hours unless you were on lunch break, and even then Vox and other employees were asking you to come help, or Valentino was trying to persuade you to work for him for double the pay (you 'politely' declined every time). You were constantly printing and filing papers, answering calls to deal with angry customers or business meetings that Vox needed to attend, arranging those meetings and appointments, helping with report preparation for staff meetings (nobody really paid attention to them anyway unless Vox was threatening them to do so), managing databases, etc. You almost always worked overtime, which meant your nightly dinners with Lucifer seldom occurred; on the days you were off or didn't work overtime, you usually rested through half of it and didn't have the energy to eat or make dinner for the two of you.

Tonight was no different; you got home later than you usually did and were greeted by the sight of an angry Lucifer.

"Where were you?" he asked, his arms crossed. "Do you know how late it is?"

"Hi, honey," you said breathlessly, taking off your shoes and jacket. "I'm so sorry I got home late, Mr. Vox really needed me to finish up reports for the next staff meeting tomorrow and it was such a-"

"No, be honest," he interrupted. "Where were you?"

"In the...office," you said, raising a brow. "Where else would I have been?"

Lucifer scoffed. "Sure, sure."

"Lucifer, you know how he's making me work late," you sighed, dragging an aching hand down your face. "If I could come home earlier, I would, but Mr. Vox is a busy man."

"Busy with what?" Lucifer snapped, much to your surprise. "Adultery?"

"Honey, what are you talking-" you started.

"Don't 'honey' me," Lucifer laughed coldly. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"You think I'm cheating on you with my fucking boss?" you said. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Lucifer mocked your tone. "I have eyes. I can see. Do you not see how he shows you off on TV? How he preaches about you at company gatherings and dinners? You two are fawning over each other, it's clear as day."

"Oh, so my boss isn't allowed to think I'm a good worker?" you said sarcastically. "Great, I'll make a note of that, thanks."

"Stop that, Y/N," Lucifer exclaimed. "Don't act like nothing is going on. He can tell people that you're a good worker without bragging about you like you're a trophy. He doesn't deserve to do that when he makes you work your ass off every day until the crack of dawn. If you're even working," he muttered.

"Look," you retorted, dropping your bag on the ground, "I'm sorry that I work late nights and that I can't have dinner with you every day. But you could at least be happy that I have such a good job. You can appreciate that I'm doing well at work and my boss likes me. That's not fucking hard. And, yeah, I am working, thank you."

"If you're actually working so late, why does he put his arm around you in interviews, hm?" Lucifer crossed his arms and stepped closer to you. "Why does he think he can touch you?"

"Jesus Christ, Lucifer, people are allowed to like me!" you exclaimed. "He does that with every worker there!"

"Yeah, sure, he's having an affair with every worker there," Lucifer said furiously.

"You really think I'd cheat on you?" you hissed, hot tears bubbling up in your eyes. "You sit there an-and talk about how it's good that we trust each other, yet as soon as my new boss likes me suddenly I'm a slut."

"I never called you a slut, Y/N," Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic!" you shouted, your face warm and sticky with tear streaks. "You are treating me like I'm a slut! Look, I'm sorry you're jealous, okay? But I'm pretty sure people aren't suspecting that I could potentially be having an affair with Vox because of how you act in public around me! People are putting too much attention on me and you to even think that!"

"That's rich coming from a world-class attention seeker," Lucifer shouted, freezing as soon as the words came out of his mouth. His eyes widened when yours did, and he looked like he'd just spewed out bile.

"No, wait, Y/N-" he started when he saw you put your shoes on and grab your bag again.

"No," you snapped, "clearly I'm not wanted here, so I'll go."

"I never said I wanted you to leave, sweetheart, please-"

"Don't call me fucking 'sweetheart'," you growled, glaring at him through glassy eyes. "And I can tell you don't want to be around a world-class attention seeker, so I'll leave and spare you." You walked out and slammed the door before he could continue, the sound of rain drowning out the sound. You muttered a "great" under your breath before walking out of the house and onto the sidewalk to pull out your phone to call someone.

"Hi, Y/N!" Charlie's voice rang through the speaker. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I need a ride," you tried to say calmly, but it came out strained and wobbly.

"Oh, I'm so so sorry, but I'm super busy right now and I can't drive over there," Charlie said apologetically, "but I could call Angel!"

"That works," you sniffled. "Thank you."

"Of course!" Charlie said sweetly. "Hope you feel better, Y/N!" The disconnect sound came through promptly after. You sighed and sat under an awning, shivering from your rain-soaked clothes. You slumped your head against a wall and cried softly, your eyes shut tight.

Around 15 minutes later, you felt warm, fluffy arms wrapping around you and Angel Dust's voice saying, "Hey, hey, you're okay, toots, let's get in the car and get you to the hotel." You took his hands and stumbled over to the car, slumping into the passenger seat.

"Trouble in paradise?" Angel asked, driving to the hotel. You nodded weakly. "You two will get over it. You're perfect for each other."

"I hope so," you sniffled.

The next day...

You heard a soft knocking at the door of the room you were sleeping in; it was Angel's room, but he'd gone to sleep in Husk's room so that you could have privacy.

"Come in," you said groggily, sitting up and finger-combing through your bedhead.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing a nervous Charlie and an even more nervous Lucifer (although his cheeks were rosy from seeing you so sleepy). Charlie pushed him into the room, gave you a thumbs up, and closed the door, leaving the two of you in the room, swallowed by the silence.

He hesitantly sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the blankets. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "I was cold for a little bit, but I slept fine."

"Your clothes got wet from the rain, I'm guessing?" Lucifer said.

You nodded. "Charlie put them in the wash, bless her heart," you chuckled. He chuckled lightly with you.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, taking your hands in his, "for everything I said. You didn't deserve a word of that. You're such a great worker and I'm so incredibly proud of you, sweet darling. You're not an attention seeker and I should've never even thought you would cheat on me."

"Thank you, Lucifer," you smiled. "I'm sorry for storming out on you without letting you apologize, that was unfair on my part."

"You had every reason to storm out on me," Lucifer said, squeezing your hands. "I'm surprised you didn't do anything else," he laughed.

"I wouldn't have the heart to do it," you returned with a laugh, his smile, that gorgeous smile, widening at the sound.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "Please, love, if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just ask."

"Cuddles?" you grinned.

"That works for me," he laughed.

[woozi]

WOOZI on SEVENTEEN winning Artist Of The Year in MAMA 2024

[disposable-semicolons]

Okay, could someone please explain to me how bluesky is any actual, sustainable improvement over xitter? I am still looking into the details but as far as I can tell there are issues that I don't see it fixing. Please correct me if anything I said is incorrect, I have spent like an hour on this tops.

bluesky seems to be built around an open protocol that was apparently designed to allow twitter alternatives to become inter-operable. This is a good thing, but in and of itself use- and meaningless if there is nobody else using the protocol. In fact, the moment one particular service becomes too powerful, you can bet they will simply break the protocol to ensure vendor lock-in. Did you know that WhatsApp for example misappropriated an existing standard? To explain what that means: You know Gmail is a mailing service. Imagine now that Google added a ton of bells and whistles to Gmail and made it impossible to send mails to non-Gmail accounts. WhatsApp did the equivalent of that. And it can happen again. To any open protocol.

Art on twitter is not put on display, it is handed out for consumption. The way twitter works makes any art posted on it effectively unsearchable. The "media" page is useless, hashtags are practically used for anything but tagging, and everything is so algorithmically shuffled and hidden away into a long, unstructured feed that 99.99% of an artist's work might as well be swallowed by the maws of oblivion a few weeks after it was posted. The vast majority of people will not see it again. There is no meaningful archival, everything is a transient consumable to be forgotten. Anything that copies the twitter formula will inherit this and push archival duty onto the artist. Almost nobody is going to maintain a fucking deviantArt account in 2024 for people to actually discover their portfolio. At least not the artists I have seen that weren't on dA already when I was half my age.

We should not forget that Xitter is the way it is for systemic reasons. My first impression of Bluesky as a corporation was clicking on the page of its CEO. Her career path thus far was dabbling in crypto bullshit and this. I'm sorry that I am not confident that she won't sell off the site to the next hyperrich moron du jour. Sorry, but the crypto thing and the fact she worked in Mountain View, CA taints her by association. After having watched the entire social sphere hailing from there essentially inventing enshittification, I am not going to give anybody from there the benefit of the doubt. You can't wade through shit and expect to come out smelling of roses.

Bluesky looks to me like a band-aid solution addressing none of the problems it solves for more than a few years unless a lot of people from the tech sector decide to make a lot of decisions for the benefit of the internet as a whole.

should I join bluesky... anyone else on there?

[sarawritestories]

Oh Gods I Wish You Were Here

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: The holidays are fast approaching, and Cassian can feel the void now more than ever.

Content warning: mention of death, holidays, grief, and tears probably, not proofread.

A/N: Not how I intended to come back, but I got in my feelings, and this was the result.

Don't take it personally that I didn't tag this one...I just wanted to get it out as the words came.

Joy to the world. The war was over Feyre's birthday was upon them, along with Winter Solstice. Velaris snow covered, warm lights illuminating the longer evenings. Cassian could hear your daughter laughing alongside his cousin Nyx. All was right with the world.

Just not Cassian's.

As he looked at the daughter, the two of you shared, he reached out that familiar bond, and he did his best to cover his flinch as a reaction to the winter breeze rolling in. And not the ache of the end of the fading gold bond being hollow. The painful reminder that you were not here. Not watching your daughter growing up or laughing at his corny jokes.

The Mother was cruel.

"Daddy," he smiled, swallowing the tears threatening to form, "Nyx said we get to go decorate the tree at Auntie FeyFey and Uncle Rhysie's house" Aria, your 6 year old, raised her arms up and was in Cassian's embrace in an instant, his wings curving to block the wind. "Can we, pretty please?"

Cassian wanted to fall to his knees. She had your smile, the twinkle in your eye when you were excited about something. It wasn't fair.

You should have been the one to soak in these moments. To enjoy in the holiday luster. To see your child grow into a person. To see that she had your looks, personality, and your mate's whole heart.

But illness doesn't discriminate. It takes and it takes. He continues to take until its victim has nothing left, and the General of the Night Court's army only had a tombstone, and the memories you both shared as illness managed to claim another innocent soul.

Cassian had no time to grieve as Aria needed him, needed him to live, to move forward, to get out of the bed. He had to live so that Aria had her best chance at life.

The sounds of familiar voices hit his ears as Nyx led him and Aria to the townhouse, a continual meeting place for Solstice. Rhys greeted them, and Aria was greedy to get out of her father's arms and embrace her uncle. "Can we decorate the tree?"

Rhys laughed and kissed her cheek, "Of course, Starlight. Go find Auntie FeyFey and Uncle Az." Aria was quick to grab Nyx's hand, leaving the two Illyrian males behind. Rhys' gaze met his, and talons scratched at Cassian's walls.

"I'm fine," Cassian grumbled.

"Well, over 500 years, and you are still a horrific liar." Rhys flicks some lint off his shirt and sits on the stoop. Cassian joined him his wings tucked in tight. "I know the holidays are hard."

Cassian shook his head, "Aria, started school. She's made friends and takes art classes. It's not fair, Rhys. Aria shouldn't have to learn about her through stories at night time. She should be here Rhys." Cassian tucked his face in his hand a sob racking out of his body. "I want her here."

Rhys held his friend tightly. As Cassian roared, "Oh God's I wish you were here!" The door creaked open, and tiny hands gripped onto Cassian's wrist. He uncovered his face to see Aria smiling. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart," he sniffled as he pulled his child to his chest, trying to compose himself from his outburst.

Aria kissed his cheek, "Look, Daddy. A gift for you. Uncle Azzy said you could open it early." An envelope with his name in her tiny hands with...your handwriting. He gently took it from the small child and opened it.

Hey Handsome,

If you're reading this, then it must be Solstice, and our little girl is not so little anymore. I need you to know that if you're reading this that I fought hard. I fought so that you would never had to open these. I think we both know the outcome. I know you are hurting. I know you are fighting to keep our girl safe and protected and loved. I will never be able to thank you enough for the bravery you had before, during, and after this hardship.

Know I'm there with you, every big milestone, every storytime, every boo boo you kiss for Aria. And I'll be there through the bad stuff too, I'm sure. I get to look down at you from the stars and make sure you're safe and protected, for once. I love you, Cassian. I promise that we will find each other in the next life and we will have more time. There are letters for both you and Aria for big milestones, Az was given strict instructions on when to deliver them for you. When the world seems like too much and the void is too great, maybe my words will help the two of you grow and move on in my absence.

All My Love,

Your Sweetheart.

"Daddy?" Aria looked at him with eyes that matched his own, "what did it say?" Cassian smiled aware that the two were now alone

Cassian held her close and looked up at the stars, illuminating the town. "Look up at the night sky, little one." She did, and as the two looked on, a star flashed across the star, and Cassian heard her little gasp. "That was Mommy. She was letting us know she was here."

Aria snuggled against her father's chest, "I miss her." She whispered.

"Me too, Princess, me too." And the duo looked up at the night sky and wished that their favorite person was looking back at them.

~Fin

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔙𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

Mike munroe x male reader

A request that I received from a really nice person here on tumblr: a small idea I liked for a fic if you like the idea as well. Nothing too big, just a fic about Reader and Chris being brothers and constantly nagging each other about their crushes on Ashley and Mike.

I expanded the request a bit, sorry if I went overboard with it. Hope you enjoyed it.

Tags: set before the event of the game. Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. Chris and the reader are brothers. Some very quick shifts of pov between characters. Jealousy. Mike and Jess/ Emily are not together in this. Friends to lovers. Mike is a flirt.

Words count: 4000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔪

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

For anyone interested, I took inspiration from this clue that you can find while playing as Chris.

The music thumps in the background, a mix of bass-heavy beats and voices blending into a dull roar. You and Chris sit at a small, round table near the back, well out of the action but with a good view of everyone mingling.

"So," Chris says, taking a long, dramatic sip. "You actually spent the whole night staring at Mike. Dude, seriously, you're lucky your eyes didn't burn a hole in the back of his head."

You scoff, leaning back in your chair with a mock sigh. "Like you're any better. When are you actually gonna talk to Ashley? She's cool, she's cute, she's well, out of your league but hey, a guy can dream.”

"Hey, I do talk to her," Chris retorts, feigning offense.

"Uh-huh," you say, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a lot if you can manage to squeak out a sentence before turning red.”

Chris chuckles, crossing his arms. "Fine. Why don't you go up to Mike and tell him what you think? 'Hey, by the way, I've been thinking about how perfect your jawline is all night!’ I'm sure that'll go over great." He did a horrible interpretation of your voice to mock you even further.

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks flush just a bit. "First of all, I would never phrase it like that. And second, at least I actually know things about him beyond his favorite book."

"Oh, really? Let's see who knows more about their crush. No cheating. No wimping out. Winner gets bragging rights." Chris leans forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Bragging rights? How about you admit I'm objectively hotter than you when I win?" you echoed, folding your arms.

"Sure. Whatever fantasy helps you sleep at night," Chris said, grinning as he dramatically cracked his knuckles. “I'll go first since I know you're just dying to hear all the juicy Ashley knowledge."

You chuckle. "Go with your in-depth research, Sherlock."

Chris clears his throat, sitting up straighter. "Fine. For starters, her favorite color is purple."

You make a face, unimpressed. "That's it? You think knowing her favorite color makes you the expert here?"

"Let me finish, smartass. She loves thriller movies. She also has this little habit of chewing on her nails when she's nervous."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely impressed but unwilling to give him the satisfaction. "Okay, okay, not bad. But that's kid stuff. Let me show you how it's done."

Chris rolls his eyes, clearly not expecting much. "Alright, hotshot. Give me your best Mike trivia."

You sit forward, lowering your voice like you're letting him in on a secret. You have always been good at noticing things. Maybe it was a result of growing up with Chris and when it came to Mike Munroe, your crush, the small things were more than just interesting, they were revealing.

For one, every morning, without fail, he was up before the sun. He’d go for a quick run to stay in shape. You’d always catch glimpses of him at college heading back to his room in a tank top, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead and glimpses of sweat on his forehead.

He had this tough, confident exterior. He wasn’t loud like some of the others in the group. He had a way of using humor to deflect, to keep people from getting too close. You saw it when he’d brush off any talk about specific topics.

And then there were his tastes.

He likes his coffee black. Pretends it's macho. He had a surprising amount of nostalgia in his preferences. You couldn’t forget the time you’ve talked together casually on the lodge, his face lighting up as he talked about his love for old action movies.

Chris raises an eyebrow. "Alright. Maybe you’re better equipped than me. But, let's be real, you wouldn't even know where to start."

"Better than starting with nothing," you counter. "Besides, I could charm him if I wanted to."

Chris raises an eyebrow. "What would you even say?"

You grin, leaning in like you're revealing a grand plan. "I'd just walk up and ask him about his football season. Mention that time he scored the winning touchdown. You instead are hopeless"

Chris nods, pretending to take you seriously. "Oh, sure, because that'll definitely make him swoon. Hopeless? Me?" Chris laughs, leaning back with a smirk. "At least I don't have to worry about being mistaken for a stalker."

You both burst into laughter. For all the banter, you know neither of you would really judge the other for these harmless crushes. It's what makes the night so much fun.

From across the room, you caught sight of Ashley standing awkwardly near a table stacked with half-empty snack bowls and crumpled napkins. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly trying to blend into the background.

"Hey, Romeo. This is your chance," you said, leaning closer and nudging Chris with your elbow.

Chris snapped out of his trance, his head swiveling toward Ashley. His brows furrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in amusement before settling back into a more thoughtful expression.

Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do? Walk up and make everything even more embarrassing?"

"News flash: she knows you're a loser," but she clearly likes you anyway. Stop overthinking it. Just go talk to her. Be romantic for once. She loves that whole 'awkward and sincere' thing you've got going on."

"First of all," Chris said, pointing a finger at you, "I'm not awkward. I'm, uh, charmingly self-aware. Second, what if I say something dumb? Or worse, nothing at all? I can't just walk up to her and-"

"You're a coward," you interrupted, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

"Yep," he said, popping the "p" and lifting his cup in mock toast.

You were scanning the room until your gaze landed on Mike Munroe.

He was leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand, chatting with a girl you vaguely recognized from English class. His tuxedo fit him perfectly, tailored in all the right places, the dark fabric catching the light just enough to highlight his athletic build. The black foulard tied loosely around his neck was an elegant touch, a little different from the usual bow ties and neckties most guys wore. His hair was perfectly tousled, like he hadn't even tried but still managed to look effortlessly handsome.

You felt your chest tighten. For a moment, your imagination betrayed you, painting a picture of Mike turning toward you, smiling like he did when he told one of his dumb jokes when he got elected class president. You could almost hear his laugh, warm and inviting, as if it were just for you. But reality snapped back into focus when the girl he was talking to leaned closer.

"Mike would never look twice at me like that." You mumble more to yourself without thinking, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice.

Chris, placed a hand on your shoulder. His touch was light but reassuring. "Don't do that to yourself. You're a catch. If Mike doesn't see that, he's an idiot."

You looked up at him, grateful but unconvinced. Chris stood up, brushing imaginary lint off his jacket. "I'm getting us drinks. Let's make it through the rest of this night together, yeah?"

You nodded, watching as he made his way to the bar. You glance around, your gaze landing once more on Ashley and an idea strikes you. Chris is now far away from your position. It’s your chance to do something.

You stride over to her, flashing a friendly smile, keeping your movements casual so you wouldn't startle her. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed you, but she relaxed as you softly took her arm.

"Hey," you said, grinning playfully as you gently guided her away from the corner.

Ashley laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement but no resistance as you led her toward your table.

"Come on, you can't let Chris and I have all the fun sitting in the corner judging everyone." you replied, glancing over your shoulder with a mock-serious expression.

"That's what you two have been doing all night? Very productive." She scanned the place as you reached the table and she managed to spot Chris at the bar, meticulously mixing something with an unusual level of focus. But then her gaze shifted, catching Mike watching the two of you.

Jaw set, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes tracked the way you gently tugged Ashley along. His gaze lingered on your hand before flicking back up to your face. Lips pressed together in a faint, almost imperceptible scowl, as though something about the sight of the two of you together unsettled him. There was a slight tension in his posture, the way his shoulders seemed just a bit too stiff for someone casually enjoying a party.

Chris returned with two drinks in hand. "Okay, I've done it," he announced dramatically. "The ultimate drink. If you don't like it, I'm never speaking to you ag-" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he saw Ashley sitting at the table, smiling up at him.

"I... uh..." Chris stammered, turning an impressive shade of pink.

"You made this for me?” Ashley asked sweetly, taking the drink from his hand before he could respond. “Thank you, Mr. Bartender."

Chris blinks and he lets out a nervous laugh, giving you a quick glare as he hands the drink to Ashley.

She giggles, taking a sip and you watch as Chris visibly relaxes. They share a smile and there's a warm, unspoken understanding between them, a quiet moment that you can't help but feel a bit envious of.

The music shifts, slowing into a softer, more romantic melody. Couples move onto the dance floor, swaying together in a slow embrace. Ashley’s eyes light up as she turns to Chris, her cheeks flushed with a faint rosy tint from the slight inebriation she feels. "Come on, Chris," she says, tugging at his hand. "Want to go there for a bit?"

Chris's eyes dart to you, searching your face for reassurance, his expression almost apologetic. He's asking, without words, if you'll be okay.

You manage a smile, giving him a nod.

Chris lets out a laugh, his tension melting away as he lets Ashley pull him onto the dance floor. They disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone at the table. You watch them go, feeling a bittersweet pang in your chest as you take in the sight of them together, laughing and smiling, fitting together so effortlessly. Chris fumbling his way through the first few steps before finding his rhythm.

They looked so happy.

And you were here instead, alone at the table, your thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mike.

Chris feels his heart race as he stands on the dance floor, his hands resting lightly on Ashley's waist, her arms draped over his shoulders as they sway to the gentle rhythm of the music. Her gaze meets his every so often, a smile warm and genuine, making him feel like the only person in the room.

"I didn't know you had these moves." she teases, her eyes twinkling.

Chris chuckles, shaking his head. "Oh, trust me, I don't. I'm just doing my best not to crush your toes."

Ashley laughs, her grip tightening on his shoulders as she rolls her eyes. "You're doing just fine. I don't mind if you, you know, relax a little."

"Relax? Yeah, I can... I can do that," he says, voice faltering as he tries to ease into the rhythm, matching her movements as the song continues.

His focus wavers after a while, gaze drifting over her shoulder as he catches sight of his brother sitting across the room at one of the tables with Matt nearby.

There's something off about the way you're holding yourself. You're smiling, sure, even laughing at something Matt is saying, but Chris can tell that the smile doesn't quite reach your eyes. It's the kind of forced expression he's seen on you before, usually when you're trying to act like everything's fine when it really isn't.

Matt, on the other hand, seems entirely oblivious, leaning in a bit too close, his face lit up with that typical over-eager grin. He's almost leaning into your personal space as he chats away, looking way too thrilled to have your undivided attention, his eyes never leaving yours. The proximity feels a bit too familiar, too comfortable, with his arm casually resting on the back of your chair.

Chris feels a pang of protectiveness twist in his gut. He glances around the room, half-expecting Emily to appear and pull Matt back to the dance floor, but there's no sign of her. Instead, he spots her on the far side of the room, tipsy and laughing as she spins around with some stranger she's apparently mistaken for Matt. She's caught up in the music, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend is practically glued to your side.

Ashley notices his distraction, her gaze softening as she studies him. "Chris?" she asks, her voice gentle, bringing him back to the moment. "Is everything okay?"

He blinks, snapping his attention back to her, guilt creeping in as he realizes he's been distracted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just... got a lot on my mind."

Ashley smiles, tilting her head as she searches his face. "You sure? You can tell me, you know."

Chris hesitates, glancing around the room one more time. His gaze lands on Mike, who's slow-dancing with the girl in glittering dress. She's leaning against him, her head resting on his chest, but Mike's attention isn't on her.

His eyes are locked in your direction, his brow furrowed and his jaw set in a subtle scowl that's hard to miss. There's a tension in his gaze as he watches you and Matt together. There's a faint scowl tugging at his mouth, a subtle clenching of his jaw that makes it look like he's holding back the urge to step in but doesn't quite know how to act on it. His brows are drawn together and his eyes flick between you and Matt with a guarded intensity.

Chris frowns, glancing back at you. It's clear now that something is brewing beneath the surface, something he doesn't fully understand but can sense all the same. He looks down at Ashley, his expression softening as he makes up his mind.

"Hey, Ash?" he asks quietly, feeling a bit awkward but determined. "Would you mind helping me out with something real quick? I, uh... I owe someone a favor.”

You were mid-laugh at something Matt had said about his latest sports practice when a shadow loomed over the table. You looked up to find Mike standing there, holding his drink loosely in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket.

"Hey, Matt," Mike said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge like he's asking for a favor he already expects to be granted. "Mind if I steal him for a bit?"

Matt's smile falters, and he glances at you, a bit reluctant, as if he doesn't quite want to let go of the moment he's carved out. "Uh... well, we were just-"

"Looks like Emily's about to make out with that guy," Mike interrupted, tilting his head toward the dance floor. "You might wanna handle that before it gets messy."

Matt whipped his head around, his face paling slightly as he spotted Emily drunkenly giggling and leaning far too close to the stranger. "Shit," he muttered, scrambling to his feet. "I'll, uh, catch you later." he says to you, giving you a quick nod before he disappears into the crowd.

"Yeah, sure," Mike said smoothly, his smirk widening as Matt hurried off. You glance back at him just in time to catch a wicked grin flash across his face as he watches Matt weave his way toward Emily.

He turns back to you and without a moment's hesitation, he slides into Matt's now-empty chair, shifting it even closer to yours with an obnoxiously loud scrap of wood against the floor. He dropped into the seat with a satisfied sigh. His arm resting along the back of your chair but soon sliding fully around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne, earthy with a hint of spice, made your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. From this close, you could see every detail of his face: the light beard perfectly trimmed along his jaw, the sharp angle of his cheekbones, the infuriatingly perfect way his smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. He was leaning into his persona, that cocky, playful charm cranked up to eleven and it was doing things to your brain you weren't sure you were ready to admit.

"Well, this is cozy," Mike said, his voice low and smooth. "Didn't think Matt was ever gonna leave. Guy's got some stamina for talking, huh?"

You blinked, struggling to form words. "Uh, yeah. He's chatty"

Mike chuckled, the sound warm and teasing "Chatty? That's the nicest way to put it. Bet he's been boring you to death, huh?"

"Not entirely," you said, though your voice was far too shaky to be convincing. "He's enthusiastic."

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "You're too nice, you know that? If I had to sit through more than five minutes of that guy's rambling, I'd be asleep in my chair."

You laughed, though it came out a little too breathy. "Maybe I'm just better at pretending to be interested."

"Pretending, huh?" Mike's smirk widened. "So, what about me? Are you pretending to enjoy this little moment we're having?"

Your brain short-circuited. "I... I mean, no. I-uh... you're not boring. Definitely not boring."

"Good to know," Mike said, his voice dipping slightly as he leaned in just a fraction closer. "I'd hate to think I was putting you to sleep."

"You're not," you managed to say, your face burning.

Mike grinned, clearly reveling in your flustered state. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?"

“I’m not nervous,” you said quickly, though your gaze flickered away from his, betraying you.

“Sure you’re not,” Mike murmured, his fingers brushing just a little too close against your shoulder, the touch lingering for a beat longer than necessary. “What were you and Matt talking about? You looked a little bored." His tone was smooth but there was a faint edge to it now, like he was testing the air.

You noticed the subtle shift in his expression. His jaw tightening just slightly, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second as if he didn’t quite like the idea of you and Matt sharing a private moment.

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Just sport stuff and his latest victory for his team. He was just being friendly,” you added, trying to sound indifferent.

You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his jaw, the way his eyes flickered just briefly toward the ground before locking onto yours again.

Mike’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, he looked real friendly.” The smirk that followed didn’t help, pulling at the corner of his mouth as if he was more amused than you thought he should be.

You raised an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Mike just stared at you, his expression unreadable. “Nothing,” he said too quickly, the innocence in his voice so forced that you could almost feel the tension cracking around him. The grin stretched wider, like a challenge. “Just saying, if I didn’t know better, I’d think Matt was hitting on you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and a flush of heat spread across your cheeks. You tried to play it off, but there was no denying the way your heart stuttered in your chest. “He wasn’t,” you said quickly, your voice coming out a little more defensively than you intended.

"Either way. Figured I'd come over and I don't know... make the night more interesting for you. Prom only happens once, right? Gotta make the most of it. Besides—” His voice softens, his gaze locking onto yours with a sincerity that takes you off guard. "—I've been waiting for an excuse to spend some time with you."

You swallow, feeling the heat rise to your face as his words sink in. "You have?"

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb grazing your shoulder in a slow, deliberate motion. "I mean, I could've come over sooner but you were busy with your brother. Then you were with Matt and I figured, maybe it's time I got a little selfish."

The intensity in his gaze makes it hard to breathe and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, caught between disbelief and exhilaration. "I... didn't think you noticed me like that," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mike's grin softens, his hand moving from your shoulder to gently rest on your waist, pulling you even closer. "I notice a lot more than you think," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Like how you always look away when you think I'm watching, or how you get that little crease in your forehead when you're trying not to smile too much."

Mike makes a silent note to himself to later thank Chris for the insights he’d shared minutes ago.

You laugh, feeling both embarrassed and overjoyed. "Okay, now you're just showing off."

He chuckles, his arm tightening around your waist as he dips his head a bit closer, his voice a soft murmur. "Can't help it. You’ve got me so close to losing it and you don’t even realize it." His fingers press gently into your side.

“Dance with me,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with a tenderness that surprises you. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerability that makes your heart race. “Let me be the happiest guy in this place tonight.”

You feel your pulse race at the invitation, your mind whirling with both excitement and uncertainty. "What about that girl you were with?" you ask, your voice quiet and hesitant, unable to stop yourself from wondering.

Mike's smirk returns, his hold on your waist tightening slightly as he leans in, his voice a soft, almost possessive murmur. "She's not you. You’re the only one I can’t get out of my head.” His voice is rough, coated in something darker.

You meet his gaze, feeling your breath hitch as you search his face, trying to process the weight of his words.

He takes his chance to lean in, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that leaves your heart racing. His lips crashing into yours with a desperate urgency that leaves you reeling. His hand slides around your waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you against him. The heat of his body sears through your clothes, and his thumb traces a slow, deliberate line along your cheek, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, that familiar cocky edge in his eyes. His eyes burn with that familiar, dangerous gleam-a challenge, a promise. His breath is ragged, as if he's barely holding back.

"Still up for that dance? Because I've got this new boyfriend I'd really like to show off." he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His breath brushes your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He looks at you with that trademark mischievous grin, the one that could melt anyone’s defenses.

A rush of warmth floods your chest at his words, a mixture of giddiness and disbelief. Your heart skips, caught between the sweetness of the moment and the thrill of his presence. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you meet his gaze, and though you can barely keep your composure, you nod.

Mike's grin widens and as he takes your hand, guiding you to the dance floor, you feel as if you're floating, lost in the warmth of his gaze and the excitement of being his.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[bringbackmaes14]

It's fine; you just have to understand that friendships between people in different age groups don't and can't necessarily work the same as friendships between people in the same age group.

I'm not even kidding when I say that when I was a kid/teenager two of my best friends were the grocery bagger at my local supermarket, Mr. David, who was in his mid 50s, and Mr. Theodore, an usher at my church, who was in his mid 70s. I was bullied and ostracized in my own age group, so I didn't have a lot of friends my own age. But I saw these two old guys a couple times a week. Mr. David had met my mom when she was pregnant with me so he'd been around my whole life and watched me grow. And we'd been going to the church where Mr. Theodore was an usher and since I was 3 years old.

And the thing was, it wasn't a friendship where I could invite these old guys over for sleepovers or to play tag or to watch SpongeBob, and they didn't talk about politics or playing golf or retirement plans with me. But when I saw them, I'd get a great big bear hug and a "how ya doin, kiddo?" They'd ask me how school was and I'd ask them how things were at the grocery store or the church. They'd ask me how my siblings were doing, and I'd ask Mr. David about his nieces and Mr. Theodore about his grandkids. I had a secret handshake with both of them (that now that I think about it might've been the same handshake for both of them but they didn't know each other so it was fine). We'd tell each other jokes. We'd make promises to see each other again when my parents eventually dragged me off to the next errand or sunday school class.

And those were good friendships! Not every good friendship has to include tons of quality time and numerous shared interests. I'm sure tons of us have friends now, even in our own age group, where we text them or see them once every six months, catch up for a few hours, and then we don't hear from them from a long time, and that's just how the cycle goes, but you still consider that spotty cycle a friendship!

And I'll also say: I'll never forget how devastated I was when I found out Mr. David had died in an accident. I remember going to the grocery store when I was 13 and asking a manager where he was because I hadn't seen him for a while, and the manager pulled my mom and I aside and said "Sweetie I'm so sorry. I know you and Mr. David were very close, but he died in a car accident three weeks ago." That was the first major death in my life. I'll never forget how furious I was when I told teachers and therapists that my best friend had died in an accident, and when I explained that my best friend had been an "old" man named Mr. David, I was told children couldn't be best friends with old men. I still tell people to this day that Mr. David was my first best friend.

I know now that there are definitely more fulfilling ways to have friendships than the friendships I had with Mr. David and Mr. Theodore (Mr. Theodore is still alive to my knowledge, I just don't live in that state anymore), but I don't regret the friendships I had with them at all, in fact I'm very very grateful for them.

My mom was constantly stressed but very much doing her best to raise me and my 3 siblings, and my dad was around but he was an abusive piece of shit. I'd had a boatload of disrespectful and downright demeaning therapists, and 9 times out of 10 the teachers I had either brushed me off entirely or loved me right up until they didn't. Suffice to say my view of adulthood was pretty shitty.

But these two old guys were there to remind me adults can be kind, to kids and adults and everyone in between! And adults can be silly! And adults can hug people just because they're happy to see them. And adults can have fun. And adults can love- their parents, their children, their spouses, their neighbors, their coworkers, their friends, a stranger walking by who just needs a smile.

Think about all the lessons kids and teens could learn from adult friends.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

[eerna]

One part that makes me really sad is that arcane used to explore and be centered around Zaun and Pilltover issues but then at the end of season 2 it's totally wiped out, okay everybody is fighting together but what will happen after ? The relationship between both parts of the city (as well as inside of them with the Concilors' deceptions, the rivality of the gangs, and different "eras of leaders" (Vander/Silco/after) etc) has been so complex and confrontational for decades, with pilltover system crushing the undercity without a care, it was really explored in season 1 and at the beggining of season 2 (even episode 7 showed us a different dynamics btwn the two) but then I feel like it was forgotten... like okay they had a common enemy and fought and had losses together but is this really enough to resolve the issues between the two?? Like in practice what will change so they can both be equal after decades of oppression ? Like pilltover system was flipped out by the killing of the council and the undercity at war with itself after Silco's death managed to rally by the imagery of Jinx and revolution, and now after the whole war/hextech thing they can reach a point of change but I need to see it in practice!! Don't we forget that a few episode ago, the "Main Concillor" and her tag team went on a rampage, gassing Zaun, reversing a system put in place by a councillor so they could breathe.... And then she became even more authoritarian, and is she going to face any repercussions for this ? No (I mean none of the characters really do but.. they were all up in arms trying to locate Jinx for what she has done, but for cait well absolutely nothing..)

Like even the hextech was created at first by Jayce and Viktor to improve lives but in the end was first used only by pilltover, and they lost their minds when the undercity got a hold of it (okay they were attacking but you see my point..), then weaponised against zaunites, and then we know what happened... and Viktor got sick in the first place because of this gas in the fissure and that what started the whole transmutation thing....

Anyway, sorry, I'm rambling and totally losing the plot... but what I'm trying to say is that Arcane really used to explore in details the dynamics inside and between the cities and now we don't get any sort of proper closure about it, it's only left to our imagination. Like it was a center storyline and underlying others... And even the end of season 1 left us on a cliffhanger about that, it was also the original dream of Vander, Silco and the sisters' mom... And even tho they gave us an inkling of what might happen, I think they could really explore this further, because it feels like loose ties...

PS: I'm so sorry, I'm so incoherent and my English is bad, I'm just tired so I can't properly explain what I mean but I hope you still got it...

I totally understood what you mean, no worries! One non-English tumblr user to another~

It was such a fairy tale solution. I don't think a few Zaunites joining Enforcers had the power to totally flip the way Piltover looks at them. Remember how they treated Vi at the beginning of the season? Well that doesn't matter anymore. They have a seat at the table now yay. System fixed. No one will be punished for the crimes against the people, because it isn't even established what the crimes are. All we know is that fighting Viktor and Ambessa convinced Zaunites to give up on their revolution. S1 set up the conflict so carefully and explained why it can't be solved easily SO WELL, only for s2 to go and say "skill issue"

[dsireland86]

Can you please write something about that new Folio pic x fem reader i am obsessed with that picture

This one, right? If not, I'm very sorry, but I'm obsessed with this one and it makes me think happy thoughts, lol!

Photoshoot

18+ below the cut

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @fadingangelwisp

"Where is Folio? Folio!! Dude, where the hell are you?"

Bryan's voice echoed through the halls of the stadium, ringing out louder than an intercom. It was annoying, and you'd do anything to get him to stop.

"Bryan, please shut up," you hollered back, rolling your eyes, letting your head fall into your hands.

"Well then, find your man. It's like he's vanished into thin air.”

"Yeah, Y/N, find your man."

Noah appeared, mocking Bryan and earning himself a nice slap in the stomach.

"Ooff," Noah cringed.

"Have you seen Folio?" Bryan asked, raising his brows at Noah. "I really need to get the new shots of all of you before the heathens start pouring in."

"Heathens, you mean fans," I chuckled, knowing how much Bryan hated people bombarding into his space when he was trying to work.

"As a matter of fact, I have. He and Nick went to get haircuts."

You knew this already but pretended not to just so you could watch Bryan get all worked up and irritated. He even looked over at you, narrowing his eyes.

"You already knew that, didn't you?"

Trying to hide your grin, you covered your mouth with your palm.

"I don't know what you're talking about," staring out into the gigantic field before you. The stadium could hold almost fifty thousand people, and the show tonight was sold out. When the hell did their small little Warped Tour band get so big?

"Y/N, I swear to god, if you don't tell him to get back here in an hour, you're dead," Bryan threatened you, half grinning.

"Then Matt won't have an assistant," you said sweetly and gave him an innocent look.

"You better not fuck with my assistant, Bryan," Matt barked, carrying a box of cables and handing them off to you.

"Take those down to the front for me?"

"Sure thing, Boss," you smiled, taking the box from him.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Don't call me, boss. Remember, I've seen you naked."

"Oh my god, that was not my fault! You walked in on me showering!"

"I never said it was your fault," Matt laughed, bopping your nose with his finger.

"Kiss ass," Noah said under his breath.

"Fuck you, Noah," you retorted, knowing very well it was all a joke.

"Oh baby, I would love it if you would!"

You rolled your eyes and kept walking.

"In your dreams, Noah," you yelled out.

"Already have," he yelled back.

You just kept walking, too embarrassed to look back.

Walking down the white brick hallway, dragging your fingers along the cool stones as you did, you could hear voices coming from up ahead, followed by loud laughter.

Stopping suddenly, you looked into the faces of the two guys responsible for all the drama earlier and one solid look at Folio, and you were absolutely done for. The way he smiled at you had you melting into a puddled mess.

"I'm gonna," Nicholas said, looking from you to Folio, nodding his head towards the stairs.

"Yeah, alright. We'll be up in a few."

Folio couldn't take his eyes off you and the feeling was mutual. His fresh haircut, neatly shaved on the sides and around the back, parted perfectly on the left side right above his ear so the longer part on top could be swept over and back was doing things for you. He had the right amount of gel in it, too, which gave it the sexy wet look that always drove you crazy.

You were aching to run your fingers through it, to take it between your fingers and yank on its roots, pulling those familiar grunts and groans out of Folio that always made your core moist and ready.

He knew you were thinking things. His sweet little grin proved it.

"We've got time."

You smiled, walking your fingers up your man's chest that was covered by a thin black shirt. The scent of his cologne made you lightheaded and weak at the knees because of how fucking good it smelled.

"Bryan will kill me if I keep you any longer, especially when he sees Nicholas and not you."

Folio stared down at you, laying a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Yeah, but I've got a problem that needs fixing before I can go up there."

You chuckled, letting your fingers wander over Folio's neck, taking in his haircut and everything about him that you loved.

"Oh, you do? Sounds like someone is making excuses."

Folio took one of your hands and drove it down until it hit the very thing he was intending for it to touch.

"I'm so fucking hard for you, baby. I need you to fix me before I can go up there."

You pulled back and looked at him and the one little glint in his eyes was all it took for you to give in.

Folio drank you in, watching as you straddled his thigh. His hands laid loosely on your hips, avoiding the temptation to yank down your pants to feed his hungry appetite.

Your hands found his hair, and instantly his head fell back against the couch, mouth falling open to release a small soft moan as you began sliding your fingers through the soft wet like strands of his hair like you had imagined earlier.

Your fingers raked over his scalp, massaging the top and the sides, making Folio nothing but puddy in your hands.

"Kiss me," he murmured, looking up at you sweetly. You obliged him, grabbing the back of his head and bringing his mouth yours, kissing him as if your life depended on it.

He groaned against your lips and you felt the strangled sound in your clit, making your panties a little wetter.

Trailing your lips down his jaw, the tanned, tender skin of Folio's neck looked too delicious to not taste. Latching your lips to his neck, you sucked his skin, running your tongue and lips over it, making him whimper beneath you. His slight gasp and thrusting of his hips made you smile.

"You still want me to fix you," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his, clinging to his broad shoulders.

Folio swallowed. "Fuck yes, please." He grabbed your ass and pushed your lower body into him, slightly bucking his hips.

"I've been fantasizing about this all week," he confessed, grinning weakly.

You hummed in approval, dragging your hands down his neck and the front of his chest, watching his eyes grow wider with anticipation. It made you giggle as you kissed his pouty lips again. The smile that spread across Nick's own face made your heart race.

Dropping to your knees before him, your fingers trailed along the zipper of his pants. You lifted the bottom of his shirt just enough to slip your fingers beneath it and find the top button of his jeans, undoing it. He lifted up as you tugged his jeans down, revealing his already half hardened covered cock The sight made you weak, making you want him ever more. Removing his jeans fully and dropping them on the floor next to you, you proceeded to remove his boxers, taking a deep breath and biting your bottom lip the moment his cock was fully exposed.

His thickness, the precum covering the swollen pink tip, the ridges and veins you loved to drag your tongue over, all of it was driving you mad, making you desperate for him.

Folio's hands were laying flat on the couch beside him, waiting for you to make your move. You looked up at him as though you were as desperate and needy as he was. Dragging his tongue between his lips, a small smile, almost like a smirk, graced Folio’s lips.

"Well, are you gonna fix me, sweetheart? Hmm? You gonna wrap those pretty pink lips around my cock?"

Folio slipped his hand behind your neck and applied some light pressure, signaling what he wanted you to do. With one hand on his thigh, you softly gripped his swollen shaft, sliding your hand all the way down to the base, then back up, sighing over the feeling of it in your hand. Nick let his head fall against the back of the couch, licking his lips and rolling his head side to side with his eyes shut tight, moaning softly.

"Fuck, baby, you make that feel so good," he smiled, when he opened his eyes to look at you. The little tendrils of hair that fell over his forehead made him so irresistible.

"You like how it feels in your hand, don't you?"

"Mmmhmm, I do," you agreed, sitting up and kissing Folio again, pleased to see the satisfied look on his face.

The warmth of him in your hands was intoxicating. You felt every little throb and twitch each time you squeezed and pulled or went back down. Looking down and watching the small trickles of precum spill from the tiny slit on his pink head hit your clit, sending strong tingling vibrations through your body.

Keeping direct eye contact with him, you lowered your head and took him in your mouth, sliding your tongue down the backside of his shaft before closing your lips around it, moving your head up and down. Folio's head fell back again with the tip of his tongue protruding between his lips as quiet mumbles of "fuck" and "oh my god" fell from his lips. He was in heaven, and you were the one taking him there.

Rolling your tongue around the ridges of his cock, tasting the saltiness of the precum seeping through, you looked up at him with all the love and adoration you felt for him, hoping he could feel the emotions coming from you as you took him fully in, down to the base. Folio jerked, thrusting his hips and forcing his cock deeper into your mouth.

"Oh god, baby, I love you so much," he groaned while gently holding the back of your head. Nick pumped into you, hitting that perfect spot in the back of your throat that made you gag. Saliva trickled down your chin the harder you sucked him, forcing his fingers to tangle in your hair.

"Fuck, yeah just like that baby, oh god," Folio muttered, bucking his hips. "Good girl, take it all baby, deep throat my cock. Show me how much you want it."

His words were music to your eyes. His praises were the light to your soul. There was nothing you wouldn't do for this man under you. He had you entirely forever.

Using your hand, you began to pump his shaft while still sucking and licking, hollowing out your cheeks until they were sore. Nick pushed himself deeper, spreading your slips apart, and guiding every inch of his shaft to the back of your throat.

"Holy fuck, sweetheart, how are you so fucking good at this," Folio laughed, grabbing the back of my hair. He gripped it tightly, directing your movements and moaning loudly, begging you not to stop. You continued bobbing your head up and down, sucking on his cock and massaging his balls, the softness of them feeling so light and perfect in my hand.

"Oh my god, baby, that's it, use your tongue. Make me cum. Fuck, fuck!" he panted.

With every hard thrust, Folio's cock tightened in your mouth. He was so close.

Wrapping your hand around his shaft again, you pumped him tightly, sucking his tip and nipping at the end of it, making him writhe in absolute pleasure.

"Jesus! Fuck, baby I'm about to cum! Take it all, Y/N. Make me cum baby, please!"

Sucking his tender head a few more times did it.

Folio groaned, his hips jerking violently, and his warm cum shot out hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed, drinking everything he poured into you.

"Ughhh, holy fuck, baby," Folio gasped, voice raspy and out of breath. You sat back on your feet wiping your mouth with your shirt, smiling.

"So," you stated, helping him get his pants on and fix himself before climbing onto his lap and latching your hands onto his shoulders. Folio secured you to him with his hands pressed firmly against your ass.

"So," he repeated, accepting the kiss you laid on his lips.

"Still broken?"

His laughter vibrated onto you.

"If broken means I get to have that every time just so you'll fix me, then baby, I'll stay forever broken for you."

Folio rubbed his nose against yours before placing a small kiss on the end of it.

"Forever broken, huh? Maybe that should become our phrase, like our code word or something," you chuckled, laying into him. That's when you gasped, knowing Bryan was going to kill you for what you did.

"Seriously, Y/N! A hickey! Right in the middle of the side of his neck! Of all the fucking places," Bryan cried.

Noah snickered, covering his mouth with his fist before turning around and looking over at you.

"Busted," he croaked.

You glared at him, holding up the middle finger.

Noah shrugged, giving you that shit eating grin of his. You rolled your eyes, turning away from him.

"Dude, fix your hair," Nicholas barked at Folio, flicking the random pieces of stay hair.

"Get off me, Nick, I got it! I'm not a little kid."

"Yeah, obviously. Y/N made that perfectly clear," Noah teased, earning him another heated, annoyed glare from you.

"I'm sorry, Bryan. It wasn't my fault," you apologized, trying not to laugh.

Bryan's face fell. "Not your fault? Y/N, Folio didn't do that to himself."

"Yeah, I know, but that hair cut, and that face, and the way he smells, I just, I couldn't... ugghh, fuck!" you grumbled in frustration.

Folio looked at you grinning from ear to ear as Alana tried to cover as much of the hickey as she could, finally giving up.

"It'll work for the show, but not for the picture," she chuckled.

"Fine whatever," Bryan frowned, tossing Folio a black ski mask. "Put that over your shoulder, and follow me."

"There," Bryan pointed towards a white sheet hanging up against the wall in front of him. "I was going to have you look at the camera, like the last one we did like this, but now," he groaned, glaring at me, "you'll just have to look sideways. So, look at your girl toy over there, and don't move."

Nicholas and Noah were rolling with laughter as Folio turned sideways for the shot. He looked straight at you, sighing as you smiled at him.

[zigrethsnotebook]

How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?

Ford x Reader

words: 3,154

tags: sfw, hurt and comfort

a/n: this was the only note i made for myself before writing this: hnghnghng this is about moths now so yeah... enjoy:)

It's been a whole year. The twins are back from their sea adventure and the kids are staying with them for the summer again. You were on your way over to the shack. Stan had written you a letter, inviting you over. He said it'd be nice to catch up, tell you and the kids all about their time at sea and that way they wouldn't have to tell the stories twice.

The stories weren't the only thing you were excited for. Before they had left Stan had encouraged you to confess to Ford, insisting that his brother felt the same for you as you did for him. But when you told him he just went silent for way too long.

"Ford?" A nervous chuckle escaped you. "Please say something?" He looked into your eyes, his gaze blank and unreadable. "I'm sorry." The words felt like a dagger to your heart. "F-for what?" You at least wanted him to have the balls to say that he doesn't care for you. "I don't see a romantic relationship between us having a future. Especially with Stan and I going out to sea tomorrow. I'm sorry."

You just nodded, taking the words in. "...This didn’t ruin what we have, did it? Will we still be friends when you get back?" Your voice was small, afraid of his answer. "I'll always be your friend." A sigh of relief. The idea of him not being a part of your life had been the reason you didn’t want to confess to him in the first place. You only did it because Stan was so convincing that he reciprocated your feelings. Turns out you were both wrong.

You shook your head, breaking yourself out of the bad memory. After almost an entire year, you had come to terms with it. Now, you were just excited to see your friend again. Excited to have a normal conversation with him again.

Back in the shack the Family was preparing everything. The kids and Soos got the snacks and drinks ready while the Twins were busy starting the campfire. Stan watched as Ford poked around in the fire. He shook his head.

"I'll never understand it." Ford looked up at his brother. "I'll never understand how someone as smart as you could let go of the person who would have been the best thing in his life." Ford sighed. They had had this talk before.

It was pretty much the only thing they talked about the first week at sea. Stan would also bring it up anytime a night on the boat was too long and too quiet.

"We have nothing in common... That and our lifes are way too dangerous, I can't bring another person with me." He saw the disapproving look on Stan's face. "It's not like I have anything to offer. I've spent my whole life buried in books and research. I don't know how to be in a relationship."

Stan scoffed at that. "What are you talking about, Sixer? You're a catch! Times change, Nerds are the new Jocks. There's a reason I was the second choice for most of the babes we met." A bittersweet chuckle escaped Stan.

Ford sighed, focusing on the fire again. "It doesn't matter anyway. Even if I wanted to try again, I highly doubt that they're still single." Now that was something Stan couldn't counter. Mainly because it's something he hadn't even considered. You were so head-over-heels for Ford the last time you and Stan talked, it just didn’t seem likely that you'd go looking for someone else.

The kids and Soos came outside, carrying marshmallows, crackers, chocolate and Soda. Dipper was the first to sit down on one of the logs. "I can't wait to hear of all the creatures you found! It must have been awesome!"

"You bet!" Stan grinned at the boy. "But we won't start with the stories yet, someone is still missing." Ford looked at his brother suspiciously. "What are you talking about, Stanley?" At the same time Mabel's eyes widened. "Are you saying we get to see-" She was cut off as Stan stood up and called out your name, announcing your arrival.

You smiled sheepishly and greeted everyone. The kids were super excited to see you again and Mabel ran over to hug you. You hadn't realized how much you missed them. When she let go of you she practically dragged you over to the campfire. Stan, who was still standing, hugged you as well.

"It's good to see ya again, toots." You chuckled. "I missed you, too, Stan." You broke the hug and turned to Ford who made no effort to get up or anything along those lines. Instead, you just waved at him, but gave him the same fond smile you had shown the others. "The same goes for you, Ford."

Behind you, Stan frowned at his brother, obviously disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm he showed you. He quickly put on a smile as he addressed you again. "Please, take a seat! We were just about to begin with our stories."

You sat down between Stan and Soos, who just greeted you with a simple "Hey dude". You two had become friends over the course of the last year.

Soon everyone had prepared a stick with a marshmallow and held it over the fire while Stan told the most extravagant stories of their travels. You were glued to his every word, his storytelling being how you two became friends in the first place.

You were so engrossed in the stories that you didn’t notice the way Ford looked at you. He adored you. The way the warm light of the fire illuminated your features perfectly. The way your eyes seemed to sparkle with pure joy as Stan talked about heroically fighting off some beasts. Hell, he loved you.

This wasn't news to him, of course. Ford had known this for over a year. In fact, when you confessed your feelings for him, he wanted to hug you, kiss you, propose to you on the spot. But he didn’t. Because he felt like he wasn't enough.

Ford felt like he didn’t deserve happiness after almost ending the world and he knew that he would achieve it if he let himself be with you.

Back then, after you had left, Ford had told Stan about the whole thing, who took him by the shoulders and shook him, asking him if he was insane. The next day, when they were about to leave, you had stopped by to say goodbye to Stan, but refused to speak to Ford, politely making up a reason why you had to leave again.

It had crushed him. Ford wanted to sprint after you, turn you around and kiss you all dramatically like in the movies. But he didn’t. Because he had hurt you already and didn’t dare to make it even worse.

Which, of course, had made it worse anyway. The way you had parted ways meant that you were left all alone with a broken heart. And you couldn't even talk to your best friend about it because he was on the same boat as Ford.

But now, as Ford looked at you again, he felt all the feelings he had been trying to bury beneath the ocean floor bubble back up again.

"And that is how Ford and I defeated the mighty Kraken!" Stan was standing, his hands raised to the sky in triumph. All of you cheered and clapped your hands. It was so good to hear his gruff voice and exaggerated stories again. Although, you were more inclined to believe him this time.

The evening went on with more stories, smores and lots of laughter. You were so relieved to have them back in your life again, all four of them. You had missed them more than you realized.

Eventually, it turned late and the kids began to get sleepy. The fire had also died down. In a joined effort you all cleaned the place back up, bringing the rest of the snacks and drink back inside the shack.

After putting more things on the kitchen table for Stan and the kids to put away you went outside again to see if there was anything else to get. Soos came your way and you held the door open for him as you stepped outside.

Ford was still there. "That's everything. Soos took the last of it." You nodded. "Neat." You were about to step back inside again when you felt Ford's energy shift to a more energetic one. He pointed to the porch light.

"Look at that! That's a Tyria jacobaeae! I haven't seen one of these in ages. A beautiful creature, just look at the markings on its wings, the bright red color..." Ford looked at the moth in awe and when you stepped closer you realized why.

The little black and red creature truly was stunning. But if Ford hadn't pointed it out then you never would have noticed it. "It is really pretty. But there is no way I'm gonna remember a latin name for anything." You chuckled lightly as you said it.

Ford hummed in acknowledgement. "Well, it is more commonly known as the Cinnabar Moth. Cinnabar, like the mineral, of course, because of its striking color. It wards off predators, letting them know that they're toxic."

You instinctively took a step back and Ford chuckled at your reaction. "There is nothing for you to worry about unless you plan to eat the little guy." You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. "Haha, no. Doesn't really fit my diet." Ford and you shared a laugh together.

Another, considerably larger, moth joined the other one at the lamp. This one was bright white and yellow with little black dots on its wings. Ford nodded knowingly as he spotted it. "Estigmene acrea. The Salt Marsh Moth. Very pretty, but did you know that these little guys aren't very well liked around here?"

Even though it was a rhetorical question you shook your head 'no' and sat down on the couch Stan kept on the porch, letting Ford lecture you. He quickly sat down next to you as he continued. "They feed on most crops which means that farmers have to be on the lookout for them around this time."

God, how you had missed this. Just hanging out with Ford, letting him tell you all about a subject he was passionate about was one of your favorite things in the world.

Your gaze shifted from the Moths in front of you to Ford's face as he kept on talking about the little creatures. You didn’t try to keep the look of adoration off your face as you watched him animatedly explain the differences in their wingspans.

Eventually, he noticed your staring and turned his eyes to you, stuttering his speech to a halt. You chuckled fondly. "How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?" He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"You just have to open your eyes and learn to find beauty in the mundane. That way you won't ever be bored again." As if on its own your body leaned towards him. You quickly stopped yourself. He rejected you once, you didn’t need to go through that again. Ford hadn't noticed.

You forced your eyes away from his and toward the moths again with a sigh. "The only times I haven't felt any boredom were the days I spent with you last year." A tight feeling settled in your chest as you spoke the words, but you couldn't stop yourself. "And today, of course."

You tried to keep your tone casual, your voice light. Ford felt an ache in his heart. He wanted you to never be bored again, show you the world through his eyes. Show you how he saw you.

"Surely you weren't bored every day of this past year, right? I bet you went on at least one interesting date?" He tried to keep his tone equally casual. Tried to keep the desperation out of his voice.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Who'd wanna date me?" "I would." You froze. Surely you had misheard him? You turned to look at Ford again, his expression was... honest?

You frowned. "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Ford." You stood and turned, about to walk away. Ford grabbed your wrist, stopping you. "Who's laughing?" You pressed your eyes shut and stayed with your back to Ford, unable to look at him.

"I just got over you. Don't make me go through all of that again." Ford felt his heart shatter in his chest. "I am so sorry." He paused, trying to find the right words. "I was a selfish asshole. And you deserved so much better. You still deserve someone so much better than me."

Ford took a deep breath, still holding tightly onto your wrist. He couldn't let you go until you knew the truth. "I, on the other hand, don't deserve your forgiveness. Hell," A bitter laugh escaped him, "it took Stan a whole year to convince me that maybe I deserve to be happy sometimes at all, even though I almost caused the world to end."

He took a shaky breath, tears pricking at his eyes. But he wasn't done yet. "I spent the whole year regretting every word I said to you that day. Because... what I didn’t have the guts to tell you then is... I love you."

Ford stared at the back of your head, looking for any movement at all that could give away how you felt about his words. But you didn’t move for a moment, didn’t spare him a glance. Without a word, you flexed your arm and pulled hard, tearing your wrist from his grip.

You walked away from him and the shack without turning back. Ford was in shambles, his legs trembling and tears flowing freely. He wouldn't have been able to follow you.

Stan and the kids had watched the whole thing unfold from one of the windows, being attracted to the sudden noise like moths to the light. Now they stood shocked, with their jaws on the floor.

Back at home you threw your shoes and jacket in a corner before collapsing onto your bed. You were angry at Ford for treating you like that, playing with your emotions for over a year. Slowly, it settled in that Ford had just confessed his love to you.

After a year of thinking he didn’t want you that way, it left your emotions all over the place. Angry, sad and with a weird feeling of relief you cried yourself to sleep.

A soft knock to your window woke you up again. It was still dark outside. It was a big window that led to a balcony. You stepped in front of it and pulled the curtains back, revealing Ford. He looked like a kicked puppy, making it impossible for you to ignore him.

You opened the window and stepped outside to him. "What do you want, Ford?" He cringed at your harsh tone of voice. "I came to apologize... again. I know I hurt you. I know I behaved all wrong. And I'm sorry." He looked up into your eyes.

"I don't expect you to fall into my arms or anything like that. You're over me and that's fine. I won't try to win you back. I-I just wanted to be honest... but, maybe that made it worse again..." Ford shook his head, starting to pace around in front of you.

You took a deep breath. It was time to just let go of your anger and instead seize the moment while you had the chance. "Ford." He turned to look at you with big, hopeful eyes. "I'm not over you."

He took a step closer as you continued. "I thought I was. But everything that happened tonight... everything you said... I still love you." You locked eyes with him and you could see the relief flooding through him as he let out the breath he was holding.

Silence washed over the both of you, neither sure how to proceed. But the silence wasn't uncomfortable either.

The dull moonlight cast a blue hue over the both of you. You looked up at Ford's hair, admiring the way the light made it glow, when a little winged creature landed on his perfect hair. A smile crept on your face and you raised your eyebrow along with your hand to his hair.

Carefully, you held your hand out to the creature, offering your finger to sit on. Ford stayed quiet and you urged him not to move too much with one hand on his chest. The animal took your offer and when you felt every one of its six legs on your finger you brought your hand back down.

You held the little moth between you two. Its wings were light-blue with dark tips. Ford smiled at the creature. "Lomographa semiclarata or Bluish Spring Moth." He put one of his hands under yours, making you both hold it together.

"Did you know that in a more spiritual sense, moths often symbolize transformation and are generally considered as a good omen?" You looked up from the moth and smiled softly at him. "Is that so?" You let the hand you still held on his chest wander upwards to his neck.

Ford nodded lightly. "They represent positive conclusions." You let out a content breath, accidentally startling the moth into flight. Both of you followed the creature with your eyes. "...And sometimes death."

You laughed and lightly swatted him on the chest with your now free hand. "You better not die on me, Ford." He placed one of his hands on top of yours that was now on his chest and the other one on your waist, pulling you closer. "I wouldn't dare."

Ford slowly moved his face closer to yours, giving you plenty of time to back away in case you didn’t want what was about to happen. But why wouldn't you, this is the moment you spent an entire year dreaming about!

You let your eyes flutter shut and soon enough felt Ford's lips on yours. They were softer than you imagined, making you smile slightly into the kiss. You moved your lips against his in a way that felt just right. Like this was how it was always supposed to be.

Ford sighed into the kiss, finally relaxing and letting himself enjoy the moment. This was the kiss you would remember forever. Especially because he would immortalize it in his journal first thing tomorrow morning.

When you both parted you felt like you were floating. You rested your head on Ford's shoulder, just enjoying finally being able to hold him like this.

"Positive conclusion, indeed."

[sephirthoughts]

First Soldier

it's a double entendre i'm hilarious shut up

this is a glennseph one-shot i've been threatening to post for a while but didn't get around to. it's extremely explicit and sephiroth is a teenager so obligatory disclaimer ahoy:

ALL CHARACTERS HAVE REACHED SEXUAL MATURITY AND ARE ABOVE THE LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT IN THEIR COUNTRIES OF ORIGIN

fucking fight me you little puritan fucks

SUMMARY: big dumb puppy glenn pets the hissy little kitty but instead of getting clawed, the hissy little kitty rubs against him and purrs NOTE: did everyone know glenn is only 23 during first soldier? twenty-fucking-three!!! he must have the cid highwind premature weathered old man gene cause damn TAGS: sephiroth x glenn lodbrok, sephglenn, cute smut, fluffy smut, no plot, pwp, etc. WARNINGS: dead dove, don't like don't read, grown-folks content, no minors allowed, minors DNI, etc.

“Out here, the only way to survive is to kill them before they kill you,” he said, forcing back the tears that were burning in his eyes. 

Glenn advanced on him. Towering and almost menacing, it seemed, to the teenaged boy. Sephiroth steeled himself. He didn’t want to hurt Glenn, but he was at his breaking point, and if the man wanted to make this physical, he’d regret—

All of a sudden, Glenn’s arms encircled him, and he found himself being squeezed tightly, with his face buried in a big, broad chest.

His senses were flooded by Glenn’s earthy, masculine scent and the firm pressure of his arms, holding Sephiroth against the sturdy, solid warmth of his body.

Sephiroth crashed to desktop, like one of those old computer programs, in the SOLDIER testing center.

He wasn’t that ignorant. He’d seen people hug one another, before. It was just that no one had ever done it to him. No one would have dared to invade the little monster’s personal space, except Professor Hojo. And Hojo only touched him to test his pain thresholds.

On the heels of his initial bewilderment, his indignation flared up, white-hot. Physical touch was a method of pacifying infants and children, who were too young to respond to reason.

Did Glenn think of him as a brainless infant, that needed that kind of soothing? Was this another demonstration of disrespect, because of his age and inexperience?

The man’s next words thoroughly defused the boy’s rising anger, though. 

“You’re right,” Glenn said. His deep voice vibrated in his chest, and tickled Sephiroth’s ear. “Out here it’s life or death.”

When the man released him, he was in a daze, hardly able to process what had happened. All he wanted to do was to grab hold of him and bury himself in his warmth and his scent and never, ever let go.

No. That was something a baby would do. Sephiroth had been very clearly instructed that he was to conduct himself with the dignity incumbent upon him as a man, a SOLDIER, and Shinra’s representative in the field.

“But Sephiroth, you don’t have anything to prove,” Glenn continued. “We know how strong you are. Maybe you could show some compassion. I know you’ve got it in you.”

He clenched his teeth and fought it as hard as he could, but a tear escaped down his cheek. It was unseen by the others, however, because Glenn was standing between them, like a shield.

“I’m not a cyborg.”

Those arms enfolded him again, a gently crushing pressure on his tense-up body. Glenn’s voice was hoarse, with uncharacteristic emotion. “I know. I’m really sorry I said that.”

“I…I never wanted to be…” he mumbled, into Glenn’s coat, trailing off before finishing his sentence, because he was still trying not to cry.

“I know. I know,” Glenn said, then gave a strangled sounding grunt, as the boy’s arms constricted around him, like steel pythons. “Seph could you—hngh. Can’t…breathe.”

“Oh. S—sorry,” Sephiroth said, hastily letting go. “I forgot how fragile you are.”

He’d meant that in complete earnest, but Matt and Lucia burst out laughing, like it was the best joke of all time. Their laughter made Sephiroth feel warm and pleased, and he laughed as well. Glenn snarled and scowled and stomped around a little, but he wasn’t really angry, and no one was afraid of him, anyway. 

The team was in better spirits, when they sat by the campfire, that evening. Sephiroth had his jacket off, so Lucia could patch up his gunshot wound. He didn’t want to tell her it was unnecessary and he’d be good as new before he went to bed, so he just politely accepted her help.

Meanwhile, his sleeveless, black thermal left little of his leanly muscled torso to the imagination, and both Glenn and Matt commented admiringly on his physique.

“When I was your age, I was a scrawny little fucker,” Glenn reminisced. “Had a growth spurt around seventeen. Shot up like a tree. What about you, Matt? You have your growth spurt, yet?”

“Oh, you’re so funny,” Matt returned, tossing a bit of biscuit at him. “I’d rather have brains than brawn, anyway.”

“I never met a problem I can’t punch my way out of, professor smartass,” Glenn said, puffing his chest out.

Sephiroth was eyeing the large man enviously. “The professor says I’ll grow very quickly, in the next several years. I wonder if I’ll ever be as tall as you.”

“Even if you’re not, there’s nothin’ wrong with that. I’m a pretty big dude.”

“Mm-hm, with a mouth to match,” Lucia interjected, at which Matt laughed. “Alright, I did my best,” she said, closing the med kit. “Not pretty, but your healing factor is so fast. You’ll probably be good as new by morning.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth replied, earning a ruffle of his hair from the young woman.

“Anything for a handsome gentleman, like you,” Lucia smiled. “I’m gonna turn in. Don’t keep the commander up all night, Glenn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t,” Glenn said waving her away.

“Goodnight, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth said politely.

“Night fellas.” 

When she’d gone off to her tent, Glenn bumped Sephiroth with his shoulder and gave him a knowing wink, and Matt chuckled over the rim of his canteen. Glenn looking at him like that made Sephiroth’s cheeks flush, which just made the two older men laugh even harder. 

This was the third or fourth time something like this had occurred. He wasn’t actually sure what their raillery meant, but he knew it had to do with Lucia, and that he was supposed to understand, somehow.

He didn’t want to be called a cyborg, again, so he usually kept his mouth shut and just let them have their joke (well, Glenn’s joke. Matt only ever laughed along). But Glenn hugging him, earlier, and apologizing for the cyborg comment emboldened him, this time. 

“Why do you two laugh and look at me that way, when I talk to Ms. Lucia?” he asked. 

Glenn squinted an eye. “What, you really don’t know? Young man your age?”

“Don’t know what?” Sephiroth asked, looking back and forth between them.

“That’s my cue to turn in,” Matt said, getting up from his spot, across the fire. “You two have a nice talk.”

“Well, Seph, my friend, it’s like this,” Glenn said sagely, throwing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, as Matt retreated. “There’s birds, you know? And bees. And those all have…something to do with spring. Spring is the time for, uh. Well, when two people—”

“I know about sexual reproduction, Glenn,” Sephiroth said flatly. “My education has been very thorough. What does that have to do with you teasing me about Ms. Lucia?”

Glenn withdrew his arm and scratched his head, awkwardly. “Ah, well. You’re a healthy young man, ya know? And she’s a very pretty girl.”

“Is she?”

“Sure. You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“It would be inappropriate for me to judge my teammates, based on appearance.”

“Yeah, of course. But for real, though. Don’t you like her?”

Sephiroth considered this gravely. “Ms. Lucia is a strong and competent person, and she goes out of her way to be kind to me. I suppose I like her, yes.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Glenn said, shaking his head. “I mean like…the kind of ‘like’ where you want her to hold your hand.”

Sephiroth looked down at his hands, then up at Glenn, perplexed. “Hold my hand? For what reason?”

“Just…hold it. Like, the way people do, when they like each other. You know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Uh. Wow. How the hell do I explain this.”

“Why don’t you just show me what you mean,” Sephiroth suggested.

“W—well, I…ok. Just to show ya.” Glenn crossed his wrist over Sephiroth’s on the smooth log, between them, and pressed his palm to his, then laced their fingers together. “See? Like that. Nothin’ to it.”

Sephiroth found himself unable to reply. His mouth had gone suddenly dry, and he could judge how pink his face probably was by how hot his cheeks felt. He kept his head down and nodded faintly.

When he felt Glenn’s grip begin to loosen, he unconsciously tightened his own. Glenn stiffened. But he didn’t pull his hand away. Neither did Sephiroth. Several long beats passed. 

By then, it was far too late to pretend it was an accident. They were both too embarrassed to look at one another, though, so they just sat silently like that, hand in hand, staring at the low-burning embers of the fire. 

Sephiroth’s body was outwardly calm, but his mind was racing, frantically attempting to explain this sensation to himself. It was a completely new and alien feeling, this holding hands. It seemed like a pointless gesture, but there were all sorts of unexpected physiological reactions attached to it. Mostly turbid and confusing emotions, along with a heavy dose of shame, at reacting so strongly to something so trivial. He didn’t hate it, though. 

After a while, he dared a sidelong glance at Glenn. “What else do people do, when they like each other?”

Even in profile, by firelight, he could see the color in Glenn’s cheeks. “Well, they, uh. They hug and uh…k—kiss. Things like that.”

Sephiroth looked down at their interlaced fingers, and seemed to have realized something. His blue-green eyes widened. “You hugged me. And you’re holding my hand.” 

“Uh—ahem. Mm-hm.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Do you…want me to?”’

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully. “I liked when you hugged me, and I like holding hands. I think…yes. I’d like for you to kiss me.”

Glenn glanced down at Sephiroth then quickly away. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, passing a hand over his forehead. “Fuck it. I’m already goin’ to hell, why not punch an express ticket.”

Releasing Sephiroth’s hand, he coiled his arm about his waist and leaned close, tilted his head slightly, then ever so gently pressed his smooth, firm lips to Sephiroth’s. 

Sephiroth’s heart lurched and ran ragged. Reflexively, he reached out and grabbed Glenn’s collar. He didn’t know what else to do 

“Open your mouth a little,” Glenn whispered, breath warm against his lips. His low, rough voice sent goosebumps up the back of Sephiroth’s neck. “Just follow my lead. Try to do what I do.”

Sephiroth let his jaw slacken and Glenn’s lips pushed his apart. When Glenn’s tongue slid forward into his mouth, he was too stunned to respond, for a full ten seconds, then he recalled Glenn saying he should follow his lead.

Sephiroth pushed his tongue forward and tried to mimic Glenn’s actions. It was clumsy and awkward, but when his tongue crossed the barrier of his teeth, and touched Glenn’s, he couldn’t help giving a soft little groan. Glenn hummed in his throat and pulled him closer. 

Sephiroth’s ears were burning hot and his stomach was doing dizzy flip-flops, like he was coming down with a fever and an inner-ear infection, and yet…this was the best thing he had ever felt. The best thing he’d ever imagined feeling. He wanted to do this and nothing else, from now on. 

He learned extremely quickly, and before long, his tongue went from tentative and uncertain, to hungry and demanding, pushing forward and chasing Glenn’s. 

“Whoa, slow down there, cowboy,” Glenn said breathlessly, pulling back to look at him. “Anything past this, and I’m in serious shit. Actually, if you decide to tell anyone, I’m in serious shit, anyway.”

The boy’s catlike pupils were blown wide and round, in his blue-green irises. “Why would I tell anyone? Come back, I want to kiss more.”

“Probably ain’t a good idea to do this out here, in the open.” 

“Where?”

Glenn glanced around and then stood up, jerking his head toward the little clearing, where he had his tent, a dozen meters away. Sephiroth nodded and followed. 

Inside the tent, they took off their boots and coats, and Glenn spread out his sleeping bag, so they could both lie on it. Sephiroth hardly gave him time to lie down before he was pulling and tugging at his clothes.

“Hang on,” Glenn said. “Couple things. I got more experience than you, but that doesn’t mean I know everything. You gotta tell me to stop, the minute you don’t like something, ok? I won’t be mad or anything, you just gotta say it.”

“I promise,” Sephiroth replied solemnly. “I’ll tell you as soon as I don’t like it.”

Then Glenn took the boy in his arms, tangling their bodies together, while their tongues caressed, sloppy and urgent, till they were both flushed hot and panting. Glenn peeled off his thermal undershirt, then helped Sephiroth pull his off, over his head. 

When he compared his smooth, slender, milk-white chest to Glenn’s—hairy, suntanned, and heavily muscled—he wanted to reach out and touch it. 

As if he’d read his mind, Glenn grabbed Sephiroth’s hand and put it on his chest. “Go ahead and touch me. I don’t bite.”

Sephiroth hesitated, then gave free rein to his curiosity, playing with Glenn’s curly, golden-blonde chest hair, cupping his big pectoral muscles, and sliding his hands up and down his solid torso. He liked the ridges of his abdominal muscles, and the trail of hair leading down from his navel into his waistband.

When he noticed the big, oblong bulge of Glenn’s penis, through his trousers, he blushed crimson and looked quickly away, which made Glenn chuckle. Not liking to be laughed at, Sephiroth set his jaw defiantly and put his hand on the bulge, squeezing it through the fabric.

Glenn laid his hand overtop of Sephiroth's and slid it up and down the thick shaft. To his astonishment, his own responded, beginning to swell and thicken inside his tight underwear.

Sephiroth had never had a reaction to any person’s body, male or female. He’d only ever felt something happening down there, when he was required to give semen samples, in the lab. 

The device used to collect the samples induced erection and stimulated him to ejaculation, without his participation. This was the first time he’d become erect on his own, aside from the normal, autonomic erections, when he’d first wake in the morning.

Those didn’t feel like this. Those he ignored and they went away, usually before he’d finished brushing his teeth. This was like an itch but deeper and more maddening. His penis was rigid and aching, and he could feel a wet spot forming in his underwear. He had to force back the urge to push it against Glenn, while they laid together, kissing and groping each other’s bodies. 

Glenn saved him the trouble, when he grabbed his ass and rocked his pelvis, grinding his much bigger shaft against Sephiroth’s. 

“Hm—ah,” Sephiroth panted. “I want…I want…”

Glenn’s breath was hot and wet on his ear. “Tell me what you want.” 

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“You want to fuck?”

Sephiroth’s body tensed with mild panic. “W—what? What do you—how can we…we’re both men.”  

“Sorry, that wasn’t nice of me,” Glenn said, grinning sheepishly. “I was just messing around. I kind of wanted to see your reaction.”

Silver eyebrows lowered and pouting lips were pursed. “No, you wanted to gauge my reaction, without committing to anything. Now, tell me what you mean. Can two men really…do that, together?”

So deftly hoisted by his own petard, Glenn was at a loss, and became embarrassed. “Uh…um. Well, yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a lot of ways. You can use your hands or your mouths, or—” 

“Mouths?” Sephiroth said, incredulous.

“Yep. You can even put it in the, uh. The back.”

“In the…” Sephiroth’s eyes went wide. “But why?”

“Because sex feels good? Why else?”

Sephiroth was thunderstruck. He’d only been taught about copulation between a male and female, so far as it related to reproduction. He’d never imagined that men would want to do this, with one another, when it served no biological purpose. No. He couldn’t see it. Glenn must be messing with him again. 

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you suggesting that it feels good, to have an erect penis inserted into your anus?”

“If it didn’t, millions of guys wouldn’t do it.”

“But it’s so small,” Sephiroth argued. “How does it…go in?”

“Lube and patience,” Glenn said flippantly, then cleared his throat. “It’s not that complicated. It’s very…stretchy, down there. You use a lot of lubrication and you put your fingers inside, first, to loosen it up. Once it’s stretched out and slippery, you can…you know. Go in.”

“And that feels good?” 

“I mean, it hurts, if you’re not careful. Especially the first time. But yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a shitload of nerves back there. Plus, the um. The guy’s dick rubs against your prostate, inside. It feels good, and you can even come that way.”

“Come?”

“E—ejaculate.”

This was an overload of information, for Sephiroth. The whole thing was too bizarre to imagine. Except that he suddenly did imagine it. Glenn on top of him, pushing his big, hard penis—wait, Glenn said dick, so he should say it that way—pushing his big, hard dick into him.

His head got hot suddenly, and his own dick throbbed with desire. He laid both hands on his cheeks, to cool off his overheated face, while he processed all of this. 

After a few minutes, Glenn nudged him. “Seph? You ok?”

“Hm?”

“You ok? You zoned out.”

“I—I’m ok. This is a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. I had no idea you didn’t know this stuff. You said you’d had sex-ed, before.”

“I did, as related to biological reproduction. No one ever told me the…other things.”

Glenn looked awkward. “Ah.”

“Have you done it?”

“Huh? Done which?”

“Have you had sex with another man?”

“Well, yeah. I’m gay, so…”

“Gay?”

“Homosexual. That means I only have those feelings for men, and I don’t like women that way.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully.

“What’s that look? What are you thinking about, now?”

“I think I’m also gay.” 

“Oh yeah?” Glenn smirked.

Sephiroth nodded. “I tried to imagine doing the things I’ve done with you, tonight, with a woman, and the idea was repulsive. But I liked doing them with you. So, I must be gay.”

“I guess…I can’t argue with your logic. It just, uh. It seems a little quick for you to make such a big decision.”

“No, I’m sure,” Sephiroth said firmly. “I’m gay. I want to have sex with other men, and not women.”

“Well, um. Congratulations on your self-discovery.”

“Glenn, I want to have sex with you. The way you said. I want you to put your dick in—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on. You just went from virgin who’s never even heard of being gay, to full-on put your dick in me mode, in ten seconds, flat. That’s way too fast, Seph.”

“How long did you wait, to have sex? After you realized you were gay?” Sephiroth challenged.

Glenn’s face went a little pink. “I’m not a good example. I was a rebellious kid and I lost my virginity pretty young.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I’m fifteen. Why can you decide what you want, at fourteen, but I can’t at fifteen?”

“It’s not that, it’s…there’s more to sex than just the mechanics. It’s complicated.”

“Oh. I see.” Sephiroth lowered his head dejectedly. “It’s that you don’t want to do it with me.”

“No, no—don’t get all sad like that. You’re…fuck. You’re so gorgeous I can hardly believe you’re real. But you’re still just a kid. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sephiroth lifted his chin, haughtily. “You couldn’t hurt me, even if you did want to. I’m many times stronger than you.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” Glenn chuckled.

“So?”

“So…what?”

“So do it, with me.”

Glenn wavered, but he knew he was already a lost cause. Here was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on in all his twenty-three years, basically begging him for it. He was in no way equipped to handle this kind of temptation.

After some admittedly muddle-headed self justification, he grabbed the med kit and dug out a tube of surgical lubricant.

“Ok. Ok. I'm ready. Let's do it.”

“Shouldn't we take off the rest of our clothes, first?” Sephiroth pointed out.

“...”

The process of two people undressing in a one-person tent was awkward and unsexy, and the less said about it, the better. One way or another, they managed to get naked together.

Glenn felt like he was drunk or dreaming, mind sluggish and hazy with lust, kissing his way down this silky, seraphic body, pushing apart a pair of slender thighs.

“Hold your legs up, for me.”

Sephiroth pulled his knees up, making a face. “I feel stupid, in this position.”

“You don’t look stupid,” Glenn murmured, as he slicked his fingers with the surgical lube. “You look amazing. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Sephiroth grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, as Glenn’s finger pushed slowly in, through the resistant ring of muscle. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it didn’t feel very good, either. Glenn took his dick in his other hand. Sephiroth gasped and jolted, as his hot mouth closed around the head. 

“G—Glenn!” he sputtered. “What are you…ha...ah!”

His protests unraveled into incoherent jumble, as Glenn took him all the way to the back of his throat. His big, calloused finger was still sliding in and out, and when it started pressing on something inside, Sephiroth had to bite into his forearm, to stifle his moans. It was like hot bolts of aching lightning, pulsing through his gut, into his balls, whenever Glenn’s finger prodded him there.

Glenn pulled off to look up at him, but he kept stroking it with his hand. His dick was leaking so much clear fluid, that it ran down Glenns knuckles. When he pushed a second finger inside, sephiroth choked and went quiet, but Glenn felt his insides clamping down tightly on his fingers.

“That’s it, baby, give it to me,” he breathed, watching the boy’s face, with heavy lidded eyes. “Good boy.”

“Hngh—ungh! Glenn! F—fuck!” Sephiroth’s first curse word came tumbling out of his mouth, as the aching tension wound to a peak and snapped. His narrow hips jerked and his dick convulsed, spurting viscous, milky-white, all over Glenn’s hand, as well as Sephiroth’s stomach and chest. His insides squeezed and contracted on Glenn’s fingers, as he massaged him through the spasms, milking out every drop. 

Glenn was so hard by now, the head of his dick looked swollen and purple, and ropy veins stood out all over the thick shaft. His balls were heavy and tight, high up against the base, aching for release. He squeezed out some more lubricant slicked it, generously. 

“Seph, I’m gonna put it in, now. Ok?”

“Mn…mm-hm.” Sephiroth nodded. 

With one hand on the back of the boy’s thigh, Glenn guided his dick with the other, to press the big, blunt head to the tautly puckered, pale-pink hole. Goddess, even lubed and stretched, the kid was as tight as a drum. Glenn pushed harder against the resistance and the head suddenly popped through. 

“Ah! It h—it hurts!” Sephiroth sputtered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

“I know. I’m sorry, baby,” Glenn hummed. “Just breathe and focus on relaxing. If you stay tensed up, it’ll hurt more.”

“O—ok,” the boy sniffled.

He was looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, half-lidded and pink around the rims, his lips wet and parted, and tears trickling down his temples. It took all of Glenn’s self-control not to plunge in even more vigorously.

With heroic resolve, he breathed slowly and forced himself to be patient. Easing in just a little at a time, paying attention to the boy’s whimpers and groans, watching his face screw up with pain, and relax again. His pale chest heaving, with his ragged breaths. The divine, velvety heat inside him, slowly, ever so gradually accepting his cock. 

“That’s it,” he said hoarsely. “I’m all the way inside. You took it all.”

Sephiroth craned his neck to look at where their bodies were joined. Where Glenn's big, ruddy tree-trunk was stuck into his slender, white ass. His cheeks and chest were flushed pink and his body was trembling, perspiration beading on his forehead. 

“D—don’t move yet,” he stammered. “I’m not ready.”

“I won’t. Just breathe, baby.”

Glenn laid over him, kissing his lips and smoothing his hair back. Sephiroth’s muscles began to slacken, as his body acclimated to penetration, and his breathing became more normal. Keeping his pelvis flush against his ass, Glenn began to rock his hips gently, letting the boy get used to feeling a dick inside him, without the stress of him thrusting.

Glenn withdrew a little and pushed back in. “That feel ok?”

“Mm…ah. More. Give me more,” the boy slurred out, arching his spine.

Looking him steadily in the eye, Glenn began to slide out and rock back in, at a slow, gentle pace, pushing his achingly hard dick into the most divine body he’d ever touched. The boy’s velvety-hot hole resisted tightly as he pushed in, and sucked deliciously when he pulled out, till he was dizzy and euphoric, drunk on the absolute exquisite pleasure of fucking this angelic boy. 

A bizarre, aggressive instinct surged suddenly, inside him. He wanted to nail Sephiroth down, split him open, fuck him so hard he’d cry and beg for mercy. He wanted to pump him full of his seed, till it swelled his belly and came out of his mouth and nose. He’d never felt such a violent urge to dominate and possess any other partner.

He heard sephiroth whimpering and realized he’d been fucking him harder than he intended to. But even after he was aware of it, he found he couldn’t do anything about it. It was like he was possessed, by some beast in rut. 

“Sorry, Seph,” he rasped. “I c—I can’t stop.” 

He pushed his knees up to his armpits and laid into him, with ruthless energy. Sephiroth’s wet-kitten mewls only made Glenn’s burning desire blaze up even hotter. He held him down and kept thrusting, harder and harder, digging into him with his furiously hard cock, like he was trying to kill them both. 

His heart was thudding like a jackhammer and his muscles were on fire, sweat pouring down his chest and dripping from his chin, but he couldn’t come. He felt his dick swelling, getting harder and hotter, and his balls ached, so full and tight they felt like overripe melons, as they slapped heavily against the boy’s ass, but something was denying him release, holding him on the bleeding edge of orgasm.

He groaned, as the tension wound and twisted to impossible tautness in his gut. “I need to—I need to come! Please! Let me come!!”

He didn’t know who he was pleading to. The boy wasn’t stopping him, he was the one being brutally hammered by a maniac. 

“Do it,” Sephiroth panted. “C—come inside me.”

The pressure exploded like a bomb. 

“Haaa! Fuck! Ffffuuuck!” Glenn bit hard into Sephiroth’s neck, to muffle his hoarse cries, as his balls unloaded the longest, most excruciating, soul-drainingly intense orgasm of his life. He came so hard, he saw stars, feeling each individual spasm, as his dick forcefully expelled long, aching bursts of slippery-hot seed, filling the boy up and spilling out, around his shaft. Still, he kept thrusting convulsively, fucking every last drop into this perfect hole.

Half out of his senses, shaking and drenched with sweat, he collapsed on top of Sephiroth and immediately blacked out. 

—

“Glenn…” a voice said, from somewhere far above his head. 

“Hm?” he grunted, without opening his eyes. 

“Glenn,” it called again, clearer and louder. “Glenn!”

Oh, shit, it was Lucia’s voice! Lucia was going to find him and Sephiroth!

Glenn sat bolt-upright, in a panic, disoriented and temporarily blinded by the sunlight pouring in through the putty-colored canvas of his tent.

Wait…huh? He blinked blearily around, as his eyes adjusted. He was alone, in his sleeping bag, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen.

“Glenn!” Lucia shouted. ��Wake up, asshole!”

“I’m up, I’m up,” he called back, in his gravelly, sleep-rough voice. “Quit yelling, will ya?”

“If you answered the first ten times, I wouldn’t have to,” she retorted, giving the canvas a slap. “Hurry up and get dressed. Sephiroth caught some fish for breakfast.”

“Sephiroth can fish?”

She didn’t hear him, or more likely, didn’t care to deal with him anymore, and her footsteps went crunching away. Meanwhile, Glenn was searching his tent and person for evidence of nighttime activities, but there was none to be found. He was fully clothed, and his boots were neatly placed just inside the tent flap. His underwear, however, were soaked. 

He got up and wriggled out of his pants, then peeled off the sticky undergarment. Holy shit. He never came this much, even when he was conscious. He was almost impressed. 

That confirmed it, then. It was all a dream. He hadn’t  lost his goddamn mind and fucked his teenaged commander till he passed out, last night.

Relief so potent he nearly teared up washed over him. At the same time, there was a tiny pinprick of bitterness, in it. A faint feeling of loss, he couldn’t quite quantify. He ignored it and shook himself back to reality.

How fucking wild was that? He’d never had such an intense and vivid dream, in his life, sexual or otherwise. He could still taste the boy on his tongue and smell his warm, musky scent. He could still hear his whimpering moans, when he—oops, shit.

He stopped thinking about that immediately, and used some pre-packaged bathing cloths, to clean himself up, before hastily getting dressed and heading over to the campfire. 

Matt and Lucia were seated on the driftwood logs, drinking coffee from tin mugs, and Sephiroth was tending to some fat, juicy fish, he’d skewered on sticks, and was cooking over the fire.

“Morning, Glenn,” the boy greeted cheerfully. “Hungry?”

“Hell yeah. Smells delicious,” Glenn said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “You caught all these?”

“Mn,” Sephiroth nodded. “I was up early, so I thought I’d take care of breakfast.”

“Well now, that’s downright decent of you. Hey, can I get some of that coffee?”

“Kettle’s right there,” Matt said. “It’s just instant packets, from the MREs.”

“How early did you get up, anyway, Sephiroth?” Lucia asked, offhandedly, as she passed Glenn a mug. “I was out at sunrise, to report in, but I didn’t see you, anywhere.”

Glenn felt an ominous prickle on the back of his neck, but Sephiroth answered naturally, without a hint of anything off, in his manner.

“I went out before that. Fishing is easiest just before dawn and just after sunset,” he explained, turning the sizzling skewers over the coals. “Fish have poor eyesight, but strong shadows can scare them away. Plus, most of the insects they prey upon are crepuscular.”

“Well, that explains why I never catch anything,” Lucia grumbled. “Who wants to be out fishing at the crack of dawn?”

“You’ll never be a pro-angler, with that attitude,” Glenn chided. 

“There goes your fallback career,” Matt put in.

When the fish were done, Sephiroth handed them out, as-is, since the skewers obviated the need for plates or flatware. Then he took his own and sat beside Glenn on the log.

Glenn couldn’t help leaning back a little and surreptitiously inspecting the boy’s neck. In the dream, he had bit the kid hard enough that there’d be bruises for weeks, but it was smooth and white, and there was no hint of a mark.

“What are you looking at?” Sephiroth frowned (guess he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought). “Is there an insect on me?”

“Hm? Oh—uh. I thought there was but…it was nothing,” Glenn said awkwardly. “Thanks for the fish. Really, really good.”

“I wanted to do something, to thank you all for being so patient with me. Breakfast is the least I could do.”

Matt and Lucia chimed in with their accolades, and Sephiroth practically beamed, unable to conceal how pleased all the praise made him.

“Oh, and Glenn, I wanted to especially thank you, for last night.”

Glenn choked on his bite of fish. “W—uh. For—for last…for what?”

“Our conversation. It was very educational, so thank you.”

“R—right. No problem,” Glenn said miserably.

When breakfast was over, the group dispersed, to pack up their gear. Glenn was relieved to have a minute alone, to get himself together. He was so worked up, his head was spinning. He really had to stop eating whatever weird fruit he happened to find, on this island. These intense dreams were not good for his stress levels. 

He was rolling up his sleeping bag, when he froze, and his face drained of color. There, on his pillow, was a single, long, silver hair.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

was it a dream or not?? you tell me!

[schumi-nadal]

Wow, I didn't think that post would get me even more hate to be honest 😅

First of all, I wasn't talking about ALL Carlos fans but about some "fans" (you can't call them like that, not after the really harsh words I received) who came into my asks when i asked nothing: I never was mean about Carlos, i didn't even defend Charles. I only posted 2-3 things related to this Charlos gate or whatever the fandom is calling it.

Here are some of the posts in questions:

After the first one, I received insults (anons and non anons, I don't know what is worst, that's what I was talking about them being younger and not knowing how the Schumi era and baby Shumi era were, (the non-anos were 17-18) because people misunderstood it (or understood what they wanted to understand).

After one or two more posts after the end of the race, it escalated very quickly, I received death threats! That's very serious! How can it come to this for a FUCKING sport? There are more serious things in life!

So, yeah, I was quite pissed after that.

Also, I didn't even defend Charles in my post, rereading now and I undertand I may have sound like I did but I'm French and I may have translated word by word what i wanted to say (it's a bit complicated but we sometimes use "you" to talk about people + ourserlves in some sketchy expressions). Anyway, what he said was definitely inappropriate and very "childish" in a way. Those words should had been spoken in private with his team and Carlos, not in front of million of people; and I think if FIA penalised swear words, they should start looking at those kind of statements.

Also, for those saying that I would be the kind of person to insult their favorite driver(s), you don't know me, you can even check my blog if you have nothing more interesting to do (lol), I never insulted anyone like some people do in f1blr. We can dislike or even hate a driver with our whole being, that's ok, for each their own I guess. We can't love everyone, you have the right to defend your favs, that's our choice too, but don't go and roast people when they didn't even say something wrong in the first place. (again, i hope those anons are reading it)

I never got haters before today (just one a few months ago with tennisblr but it was more a troll more than anything else) I usually don't interract a lot because I don't like conflicts but receiving multiple insults for something I can't control: I'm not Charles, I can't control what he says, I'm not a Carlos hater neither, i'm just here, blogging and reblogging stuff I love, mostly sports, sometimes with my particular sense of humor.

Nobody is perfect for sure, and I'm sorry if some of you thought I was just calling out Carlos or defending Charles. He may be one of my favourite drivers, just like other drivers can be yours: all of them are not flawless and we may continue to like them or not after different sorts of situations, that's up to us.

To finally finish my thesis (sorry if you're still reading), I didn't know that I would be so stressed on tumblr one day (call me a sensitive person) but this website is my sanctuary, I hope it will stay like that for a very long time but you can't be appreciated by the whole world, I lost some of my mutuals and i accept that. This morning's messages went too far and that's not normal to say thing like that, no matter how peacecul I am, I had to call them out. Also, on my other fandoms, you can share thought without (or almost) getting attacked verbally, that's sad that it's not the same anymore here, but yeah, football is the same.

You can choose to answer or not, I won't block anyone because I don't feel the need to, opinions can be shared but respectfully, I would be happy to talk more if some of you are up to.

So, I don't know what to add, have a great end of the season, everyone!

i don't know if everyone who reblogged or commented can see it when I reblog it so i'm tagging y'all: @midesastremanifiesto , @janesurlife , @gaypoetsblog , @katarf1a , @chaitalinath , @danieldrivesfast , @landhoe-norris , @eightsixtiism

One thing is funny about being insulted by all those Carlos "fans" (won't call them real fans tbh he deserves way better than toxic people): I was already watching F1 that they were not born, if you think that Charles was shitty today, just remember we had Michael Schumacher as the most dramatic queen ever and Sebastian Vettel was a little Gremlin at some points. REAL FANS WERE NOT FIGHTING FOR THAT!

[raina-at]

Fic writer meme

Thank you so much for tagging me @discordantwords.

How many works do you have on ao3? 34. 6 SPN RPF (J2), 1 Supernatural (Wincest - if you have opinions about this, I don't want to hear them), and 27 for BBC Sherlock. I feel compelled to add though that my fandom history predates AO3 by about ten years, and that most of the fics I wrote during that time aren't on AO3. All of my TPM fics, all of my HP fics and most of my Supernatural fics are in fact not on Ao3. So I actually have no idea how many fics I've written since I started in 2001.

What’s your total word count? 585,261 words.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Don't Read the Last Page, Bakers with Benefits, Running Obliquely, Guess Who's Coming to Christmas Dinner and All I Want for Christmas (is Proof) (you guys really like my Christmas fics :-))

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Yes, I love comments, and I love getting into dialogue with readers about their interpretation of the characters and canon! I try to answer everyone, if I ever forget to answer, I'm really sorry!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Um... None?

Of the ones on AO3 that is. I once wrote a Supernatural fic where Sam was a ghost and Dean had to exorcise him and it was heavily implied that Dean would commit suicide as soon as that was done, so that was pretty dark. And I wrote 2 Supernatural post Apocalypse fics that end well but the setting is very bleak.

But all my new stuff, especially all my Johnlock stuff, has happy endings.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Probably Bakers with Benefits. Sherlock gets everything he wants, including John, and they basically live happily ever after. But like I said, all my fics end happily.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't yet, but that doesn't mean I won't, one of these days. I wrote a Bake Off Sherlock AU, but crossovers means having characters from both canons, and I re-cast both hosts and jurors, so it probably doesn't count.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No, thankfully not. I've received a few odd comments here and there, but I never had the feeling that they were mailcious, just tone deaf.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, I do. Mostly of the vanilla kind, I'm not super kinky, and I'm not much for writing PWPs these days, but I like a good, spicy sex scene that shows you something about the characters and their dynamic. And sometimes it's just hawt. Which is also fine.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I heard a story once that someone stole one of my J2 fics and turned into a Het Degrassi fic, but I could never verify this claim because the fic got deleted. Other than that, not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several, and it's a great honour.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, mostly with my wife @nuttersinc, we co-wrote an entire fic series and some other, smaller fics, and we once at a Boondock Saints RPG (I know. I know.) I haven't co-written with anyone in ages, and I'm not sure how good I would be at it these days, since I'm a pantser and don't have very much time, so I think I'd drive anyone with a regular writing schedule bananas. But I'm open to try.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

All time.... omg... Ok, so mirroring @discordantwords here, I adore Mulder and Scully still. They're the OG ship for me, they were the first pairing I read fanfic for. They'e such a good example of The Dynamic (repressed bisexual disguising as the "normal" one when they're just a more adapted sort of crazy and socially awkward genius crazy himbo the normal one has to save all the time). Scully especially owns my heart, I love her, and Gillian Anderson is, like. So. Hot.

But Sherlock and John... they're just... so GOOD. You can do anything with them. You can put them in any scenario, any time, any space, and they're just so magnetically drawn to each other, they complement each other so well and they're so bad and so good for each other... I love them. So much.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Oh, quite a few. The one where John is Sherlock's neighbour and they have this 'we're just friends' dynamic and everyone thinks they should just get married, including Rosie, who's a sassy teen in this fic. It's got a lot of potential but I don't think I'll ever finish it.

What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at dialogue and character dynamics. I think I'm also good at building character arcs, and I think I'm good at setting scenes and making oblivious idiots fall in love.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not the greates plot writer in the world. It takes me much more effort than writing a fic where, say, Sherlock and John have breakfast and talk, to pick a random example. I tend to lose the thread of the plot because I start writing the vibe before I have everything figured out, so I tend to get 'stranded' at some point. That's why my WIP folder looks the way it does.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't attempt it if I don't have a native speaker to look it over and tell me if it's correct. (if the other language isn't German, which is my native language).

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Roswell (the one from the early 2000s, not Roswell New Mexico. Yes, I'm a Fandom Old.)

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

None, honestly. If I wanted to write for a fandom or ship, I would.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

Oh my god I'm not sure I can answer that. I really like all of my fics, and I love most of them still. Some were such fun to write, some harder but the hardship made them more beloved.

I'll probably have to go for Bakers with Benefits, though, because I still like to re-visit that 'verse and I just LOVE these two.

That was fun! I'm tagging anyone who wants to do this, but especially @jrow @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk and @thetimemoves