#i have stuff that’s been in there for a straight-up YEAR

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Can I request Spencer and Nurse!reader? Maybe they meet when he’s wounded/she’s patching him up?

(Yes I’m a nursing student I promise we aren’t all mean girls 😔)

ty for requesting!! ik ur not all mean of course!!<3 —you meet the cutest FBI agent ever and tend his wounds. fem, 1.5k

One of the small pleasures of your job is when the patients are cute. Not many people come through as handsome as this one. You’re professional nonetheless. 

“What am I seeing you for today?” you ask, holding your hands behind your back. 

Your patient, charted as a Dr. Spencer Walter Reid, twenty nine years old, gives you a tentative smile. “Someone hit me really hard.” 

You can see the bruise forming against his temple. “Yes, I’d say so. Did you know the assailant?” 

“No, but it’s handled.” His smile turns to a grimace. “Uh, I get these, like, debilitating migraines, and I feel like I have one coming on.”

“A head injury could trigger that,” you agree, holding your hands out in front of you, little torch in hand. “Can I have a look?” you ask softly. 

When you’ve been a nurse for some time, you start to categorise people into boxes. All kinds of boxes for different things, but Spencer Reid gets a tick for a few things straight away: shy, pretty, and sensitive to touch. He must not get touched much, or he’s had a bad experience with strangers. He did just get hit in the head, you allow, brushing a sweet, mousy curl away from his head and holding it out of the way as you shine a light into each of his eyes. He flinches hard, but his pupils react as expected. 

Whoever hit him managed to break the skin, upon closer infection of the injury. The skin has turned purple at the edges of his cut. It’ll be a big bruise in just a few hours. 

“Spencer, please tell me if I hurt you, honey,” you say, voice still soft. If he’s got a migraine coming, he won’t want your usual overloud distinction. 

“It’s okay. It hurts, but not more or less when you poke it.” 

“You have a laceration, yeah? It’s about three centimetres long, but deep. I can close it with a butterfly stitch, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah, please. Um, about the migraine–”

“Do you want a tramadol, honey? I think you deserve one.” 

“I can’t have narcotics.” 

You pull back and straighten the hair you’d displaced. “That’s okay, it just means you can’t have the strongest stuff. Most people try to avoid them anyhow. How about tylenol, would that be alright? Or do you avoid painkillers in general?” 

“Tylenol is fine as long as it doesn’t have the codeine with it.” 

You give him a gentle nod. “I’ll make sure it’s the right one. You can even see the bottle, if you like. Would you want them before or after the stitch?” He probably knows, but you add, “It’s not a real stitch. But it might feel tender when I’m poking around.” 

“Anything. Whatever you want to do first.” 

His eyes squeeze closed. You give him a frown he can’t see, and rest your hand on his arm. “Is there someone here with you?” you ask him.

“My friend is coming, I think. There was a lot going on.” 

“That’s okay. I’m not sending you home until I’ve fixed you, Dr. Reid.” 

He smiles, even with his eyes closed, but doesn’t say anything more. You wash your hands and find your bandages. A butterfly bandage, a sterile wipe, and a square piece of gauze to cover it cleanly. His eyes are opening again when you return, ushering him gently down the bed so you can sit on his right side near the injury. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him. 

“I work for the FBI.” 

“You do?” You tear open the sterile wipe and again pull the curls from his forehead. “This might sting. Please tell me if it hurts too much.” 

“It’s not the cut that hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sympathetically. Migraines are a tricky business. If he’s already having one, you probably can’t do much to get rid of it, but that doesn’t mean pain relief won’t help. “I’ll do this as quickly as I can.” 

He’s quiet. You wipe around the laceration with careful, concise movements. The cut looks clean enough when you’re done, and it’s so small you won’t irrigate it. 

“Are you an agent?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Special supervisory with the BAU. The, uh, behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you say, putting the wrapping and the dirtied wipe into your cardboard bowl. “I think I’ve seen it on TV sometimes, you guys can track the serial killers and stuff?” 

“Mostly that, yeah. Uh, sometimes we find trafficking rings or missing kids. Sometimes we manage hostage situations. It depends on the level of the crisis.” 

“So you’re the big gun.” 

“I guess so. I’m not actually good with a gun.” 

“No one has to be good with a gun to change the world.” You pull the butterfly stitch from the packaging and pick at a finicky end. “I hate guns.” 

He sighs. “I do, too.” 

“They make my job hard. It’s not nice, seeing what they can do to people. It’s awful, really. Spencer, I’m so sorry, honey, I’m just gonna put this on here, it might feel uncomfortable as I pull the sides together.” 

“It’s okay.” 

You pull the plastic of the butterfly stitch on both sides, cinching his cut together promptly. It looks better now you can’t see the inside. 

“I’m gonna cover this with the dressing now. You don’t have to keep it on if you don’t want to, it’s a pretty small cut, it was just deep. I’d recommend you try to keep it dry for two days, really, you should keep it covered, but it’s up to you. And if anything happens, if it gets infected, you can always come see me again.” 

You’re mildly flirting, then. Just because he’s nice and shy. It might be a little cruel of you to proposition a man when he’s roughed up, though. 

Spencer, luckily, understands that you’re not trying to harass him. “Thank you.” 

You stand, peeling the plastic from the bandaid and exposing the sticky backing. Slowly, you stroke his hair back from the wound and line the bandaid up. He shivers under your nails. 

“So sorry,” you say, laughing under your breath, “it’s my nails, huh?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“You’re a great patient, Spencer. I’d give you a sticker if I could, I’m not kidding.” 

“You’re a great nurse.” 

“Thank you.” You smooth the edges of the bandaid down for good measure and step away from him to assess him. “How’s that migraine?” 

“Getting worse.” 

“You have them often, you said? Treated or untreated?” 

“Psychosomatic, apparently.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Has your doctor talked to you about CBT?” 

“Some. I don’t really… want it,” he says awkwardly. 

“That’s okay. If it’s psychosomatic as they believe, it might get better with time. How’s the stress in your life?”

“Stressful.” 

“It must be hard, the FBI, everything. Life is hard enough. Stopping serial killers must weigh on your heart.” You smile carefully. “Was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention? Any other injury, anything that needs urgent care?” 

“I was mostly worried I had a concussion.” 

“It doesn’t seem like it. You’re not nauseous, are you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

He gets this awful, sad look on his face, it really isn’t nice to see. People come in by themselves all the time but it never gets easier to handle. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, taking his arm into your hand. 

“I’m fine.” 

He had the look of someone who’s always fine. Luckily for him, it’s your job to take care of people, to make sure they’re more than fine. “Okay. I’m gonna get you something warm to drink. Do you like donuts?” 

“Uh–”

“I’m getting a feeling about you. Chocolate frosting, I bet.” 

He smiles, startled and pleased at once. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna get those for you. A drink, a donut, and some much needed Tylenol. You can lay down if you like.” 

He nods but doesn’t move. 

As you’re leaving the room, you cross paths with a handsome man with dark skin and a bright smile. Must be something in the air today, you think. 

“Reid, you okay?” you hear him say. 

“Fine.” 

“You’re pink.” 

“What?” 

“You’re blushing. Oh, you had the pretty nurse, didn’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Spencer whispers sharply. 

“You can ask for her number.” 

“No I can’t, she’s working.” 

“But you want to,” his friend surmises. 

You bite down a smile, giving your head a shake as you go. You need to get a move on. Spencer needs a hot drink, a donut, Tylenol, and a pen. It should be okay if you’re both feeling up to it, right?

[theforestknowsmydreams]

Things I could do more easily with universal basic income + the "savings" I'm living off right now:

pay for the physiotherapy my insurance doesn't cover but I need if I don't want to eventually get spinal surgery

pay for extra tests concerning things that have been causing me pain for years but that aren't "bad enough" for anyone to do anything

hire someone to help me with my household when I'm relapsing or stuff flares up

buy books on stuff that interests me. languages, skills, sciences. everything

search for an apartment that doesn't cause me physical pain and that also has warm water all throughout the day

get a license, allowing me to be more independent, meet friends, get a job outside of walking or close public transport distance (and I can't walk for more than 10 minutes without pain, so. ya know)

invest in small things that would make my life easier. lots of clear storage, a drawing glove, high quality shoes (i can look straight through the soles of my current pair, it's really funny as long as it's dry outside), etc

pay for evening school so I can finally finish my a-levels and fulfill my dream of going to uni

Because I'm not eligible for any support from the country I can do nothing but wait. Wait and watch while my savings disappear, until they deem me poor enough to deserve help.

And at that point? The help is gonna be barely enough to survive, as it always is.

Why I don't just use the savings I have for all these things? If you were in the middle of the ocean, barely keeping afloat, would you try to build a raft using the wood you're holding onto? No lifeline, if you fail, you sink.

Some people might. Those people are braver than I am.

All this to say that for every person who wouldn't work anymore with basic universal income, there will be more that would be given the chance to. And even more that are already working that could switch jobs and pursue their passions, or afford to hop around and find the thing that suits them.

If we had universal basic income, would you still work?

[mariclerc]

Student's secret | cl16

Summary: what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas... or in a pole dance club.

Warnings: mental health issues, toxic work environment, mentions of drugs and sex, uni student reader, denigrating comments, angst and a little fluff at the end.

Living or spending a few days in the city of sin is a dream come true for many people, it is the place where everything is possible, where anything can happen: Luxuries and eccentricities are the order of the day throughout the year and rules and formalities are something banal and outdated for many.

For you it is like being in a cage, many people are forced to lead a double life, one where during the day they do their routine things but at night they try to do something to survive... Just like your case... Being a uni student, it is a bit difficult to bear the expenses of tutors, food, clothes, rent and other things, especially being exposed to the city of luxuries at such a young age, most of the time you find it difficult to make ends meet, so you decided to look for a job during the holidays to, at least, have enough money to make it to the end of the year without any problems... But you didn't think that what started as a temporary job would become a permanent job.

That's why you find yourself touching up your makeup backstage at a pole dance club, this has been your night life for 4 months straight, today is different because you have to work an extra day due to a special show.

Lila, your boss, enters backstage, drawing everyone's attention. “Listen up ladies, tonight we will have a special show because the F1 action in Las Vegas starts on Wednesday, so we will only be open today - Tuesday night, and tomorrow.” she said with a cocky smile on her face. “Plus we have some special people in the audience tonight, so get your shit together or else... You'll be dealing with me.” she said.

Most of the time when there is a big event that paralyzes the city you work only 3 days and the other days you use to rest, but this is enough because you assume from what Lila says, that the drivers will be making an appearance at the club tonight. Plus your shift is only supposed to be Thursday through Sunday, not Tuesday.

You sighed. “I don't want to do this Lila...” you say softly.

She stops and turns her gaze to you. “What do you mean? You know you have a contract, right?” she spats.

“But this is not my shift and I feel too uncomfortable and exposed.” you say. “This was supposed to be a summer-only job, and...” you were going to continue but she interrupted you.

“But anyway, you signed the contract and besides, you need money for your stupid shit, right?” she said and you blinked multiple times. “So you're gonna put on a good show tonight or else I'll make you spend the night with one of the patrons, was it clear to you?”

The patrons are the ones who keep the club afloat, they invest a lot of money in you and in drinks, drugs and so on. In the few months you've been there you've witnessed some pretty... nasty stuff, drugged up coworkers forced to have sex with one of these guys so they can give them some extra money. Luckily for you, you haven't been forced to do anything similar, you just dance and do the occasional VIP service, extra tip and that's it, but seeing the consequences of not wanting to work today, you have to put up with it.

“Okay miss...” you murmured shyly.

Lila smiled. “Everyone, be ready for our customers tonight.” she said and continued walking, you sighed.

You take a deep breath, wiping away a tear that came out of your eyes, smudging lightly your mascara, before stepping into the spotlight. You and your other companions go out on stage, you notice how the patrons are sitting up front with their drinks and cigarettes, as usual, but you notice new faces; most of the drivers are sitting in the VIP booth, each one sitting alone or with his colleagues. The music starts, and you begin your routine, trying to mask your emotions with your performance. As you dance, you catch glimpses of a driver who's watching you intently, his expression shifting from amusement to concern.

After finishing your routine, you watch as your boss motions for you to go the VIP booth number 16, you walk over there, your heart pounding in your chest. The driver is smiling, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes.

He's smiles gently. “Hey there, that was an incredible performance up there.” he says softly.

“Thanks, I... I appreciate it.” you say while forcing a smile.

You notice the way he studies you, his gaze lingering on the redness in your eyes and the light smudge under it. He hesitates for a moment before speaking again... “Are you okay? You seem… a bit upset.” he asks you softly.

You sighed. “It’s just been a long night... Nothing to worry about.” you whispered as you lied.

He nodded. “I can imagine, this place looks so intense.”

You look around the club, feeling the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on you.

“It can be... Overwhelming at times.” you say quietly.

The music shifts to a slower tempo, creating a more intimate atmosphere around your conversation. You stand before Charles and you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. Charles watches you with a mix of excitement, care and curiosity, his coloured eyes sparkling under the dim lights.

He smiles gently. “So, what do you say, little star? Just a little private dance to lighten the mood?” he says softly while calling you by your stage name.

“I mean... If that's what you want...” you say a little hesitant.

He nods reassuringly. “Trust me, it’ll be fun... Just be yourself.”

You feel a rush of adrenaline at his words. You’ve performed many times before, you've even done private dances several times with not so nice customers, but this feels different—more personal and somewhat intimate. You nod slowly, trying to shake off your nerves.

“Okay... I'll do it.” you say softly.

Charles grins, and you can see the excitement in his eyes. You step back slightly to create some space, allowing yourself to get into the right headspace... The music shifts to a sultry tune, and you begin to move to the rhythm.

As you dance, you focus on Charles, letting the music guide your movements. You sway your hips and let your body flow with the beat, feeling the tension ease away with each step. Charles leans back against the plush booth, watching you intently.

“You're incredible...” he whispers.

His words send a thrill through you, and you find yourself getting lost in the moment... You let go of any lingering doubts and worries and you just embrace the performance. You glide closer to him, allowing your body to move in sync with his gaze.

You continue your dance, incorporating playful movements that make him laugh and smile. The connection between you feels electric, and you find yourself enjoying this more than you anticipated.

“How's this for a private dance?” you asked him playfully, using your confident facade.

He grins. “It's perfect... More than I expected...”

You lock eyes with him, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The laughter and chatter from other tables become a distant hum as you focus solely on him. As you move closer again, you notice how he leans forward, captivated by your performance. You playfully run your fingers along his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. You continue dancing, letting your body express what words cannot. You swirl around him, feeling free and alive as you lose yourself in the rhythm. The music pulses through your veins, and you can see the admiration in Charles' eyes as he watches you.

“You're amazing... This is better than I imagined.” he says with a low voice.

You smile at his compliment, feeling a rush of confidence surge through you, customers rarely compliment you or the girls. You step closer again, brushing against him as you dance, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.

As the last notes of the song fade away, you take a deep breath and step back, allowing yourself to bask in the moment.

He clapped softly to you. “That was incredible! You really know how to put on a show.”

You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. The energy between you is palpable as he leans forward slightly.

“I think that deserves a special tip...” he says while grinning. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crisp stack of bills, holding them up with a playful glint in his eye. “What do you think? Is this enough? Or do you need more than that?” he says softly.

Your heart races as he counts out a hefty amount of cash that was wrapped in a paper before handing it to you with an appreciative smile. You wouldn't believe it, it was a big tip.

“Wow! Are... Are you serious?” you said surprised. “I can't take it, I'm...” you were about to say but he gently stopped you.

He smiled. “Don't say that, you deserve it! You deserve every bit of it for that amazing performance.”

You take the money from him, feeling a mix of gratitude and disbelief. It’s more than you expected for just one dance. “Tha... Thank you so much! This really means a lot to me.” you say softly.

“You earned it. And I hope this helps with whatever you're working towards.” He said sweetly and that made you stop.

“How... How do you know that...” you said in a low voice.

He looked around the club and then looked at you before slowly approaching you.

“There's no need to say anything, little star... Your gaze, those lost little eyes told me everything I need to know.” he said softly in a whisper. “Sometimes a look is enough to know a little bit about a person.” he said softly and you were shocked, you never thought that an F1 driver would be so empathetic and deeper.

“Wow, that was... Yeah...” you murmured. “Thank you again...” you say and pause, you still don't know his name.

“Oh, I'm Charles Leclerc.” he said formally. “But just call me Charles.” he smiled.

“Y/n” You answered him by giving him your name. You were going to tell him something else, but the bell indicating that you and the girls had to go backstage ruined the moment.

He smiled. “Well, I think they need you in there.” he said softly. “I really enjoyed this evening, the dancing was spectacular.” he said and you blushed.

“Y/n! Get your fucking slutty ass here!” your boss yelled harshly and you shook your head.

“I have to go, but thanks again Charles.” you said softly.

“It was nothing. Take care y/n, I hope to see you soon.” he said softly and you walked backstage.

As you entered your small dressing room you looked at the amount of money Charles had given you and a tear ran down your cheeks. You had never received such good treatment from a customer, the warmth and security of his person contrasting with the coldness and toxicity of the place. You sighed and put the money in your briefcase, thankful that someone had noticed your tearful gaze despite not saying anything about the anxiety and fear that constantly fill your life.

***

The weeks following your encounter with Charles unfold in a blur of routine and reflection. You find yourself back in the familiar rhythm of your daily life, but the vibrant energy of that night lingers in your mind like a bittersweet memory. The club’s atmosphere has shifted, and the pressures of your job weigh heavily on you.

You're sitting on your bed, surrounded by textbooks and notes from your psychology classes. The sunlight filters through the window, but it feels dimmer than usual, you flip through your notes absentmindedly, thoughts drifting back to that night.

“It was just one night… why can’t I stop thinking about it?” you say to yourself, while flipping through your notebook.

You recall Charles’s laughter, the way he looked at you with genuine interest and care, and the way he made you feel seen. But as days turn into weeks, that memory becomes a painful reminder of what you’re missing in your life.

You shake your head, trying to focus on your studies. But the thoughts keep creeping back in—what if you had exchanged numbers? What if you opened up to him and told him what you were going through at that very moment it didn't matter if he was a complete stranger? The “what ifs” swirl around like a storm in your mind... You couldn't fall in love with a stranger, much less an F1 driver, you're not supposed to let anyone into your life.

A few nights later, you’re back at work, but the energy feels different. The once vibrant atmosphere has turned toxic—patrons are more aggressive, and the laughter that used to fill the air is replaced with tension and judgment.

You stand behind the bar, pouring drinks for a group of rowdy customers who seem to take pleasure in belittling the staff. You try to brush off their nasty comments, but each jab feels like a weight added to your already heavy heart.

One of the customers spoke. “Hey you, why don’t you dance for us? We paid good money for this place! You little bratty bitch.” he said in a slurring way.

You force a smile, but inside, you feel a surge of anxiety, you want to disappear. The memory of Charles’s encouragement clashes with the reality of your current situation. You glance around, noticing how other staff members are also feeling the pressure from the patrons, they're demanding lately.

“May... Maybe later! Right now, let me get you another round of drinks.” you say while you attempt to light the mood.

As you turn away, you catch a glimpse of a co-worker, Sarah, who looks equally drained. She gives you a sympathetic nod, and you can tell she’s feeling the strain too. It is causing a lot of damage to all the girls, especially mentally, you have already seen several of them taking drugs in the bathrooms and backstage.

Sarah approaches you. “It’s getting worse here girl… I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” she says quietly while taking a cigarette out of her pocket.

You sigh, knowing exactly what she means. The club that once felt like an escape is now suffocating. Every night drags on, filled with rude customers and an overwhelming sense of dread. Your mental health begins to deteriorate as the pressure mounts.

Days turn into weeks, and you find yourself dealing with the weight of your job and studies because it feels unbearable. You spend more nights lying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as thoughts spiral out of control. Obviously, in the midst of all the chaos, you became a bit of a F1 fan, especially keeping an eye on the green-eyed boy who had been so nice to you that night at the club, somehow, even though he was a complete stranger to you at the time, you felt so happy to see him shine in what he likes — something you wish would happen to you too.

One particularly rough night at work, a big fight breaks out between two patrons. The chaos erupts around you as glasses shatter and voices rise in anger, you feel frozen in place, overwhelmed by your anxiety and nerves.

Weeks pass, and the club continues to drain you. But you find solace in small moments—watching sunsets, reading books—but they’re fleeting against the backdrop of your reality. Your mental health spirals further as feelings of isolation creep in.

Tears well up in your eyes as frustration boils over. You wipe them away angrily, feeling trapped between the joy of the memory shared that night with Charles and the pain of your current life. And it shouldn't be affecting you so much, he was just a costumer...

***

The atmosphere is electric as the club transforms for the Christmas season, twinkling lights adorn the bar, and festive decorations create a warm ambiance amidst the usual chaos. You stand in the backstage, heart racing, preparing for one last performance before your well deserved break from the club and your classes. The familiar sounds of laughter and chatter filter through the curtains, but today, they feel different.

You are in the backstage, pacing nervously as you go over your routine in your mind. The stage is set, and the crowd buzzes with excitement. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

You take a deep breath. “Just one last performance… You can do this.” you say in a whisper to you.

As the music starts and the spotlight shines on you, you step onto the stage. The audience erupts in applause, but your eyes scan the crowd anxiously. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—some co-workers, and regular patrons, nothing new—but then your heart skips a beat. There he is—Charles, standing near the front, his smile bright against the dim lighting.

Your breath hitches in your throat as a flood of emotions washes over you. Memories of that night come rushing back—the laughter, the slight connection, the promise of something more. But doubt creeps in, and you feel a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach...

“Why is he here? Is this just a fleeting visit? Or is it for something else?” you think, you can't help but wonder that.

You force yourself to focus on the performance, pouring your heart into every movement. As you dance, you try to ignore the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind... But each time you glance at Charles, you feel an overwhelming mix of hope and fear.

The performance reaches its climax, and the crowd cheers enthusiastically. You finish with a flourish, feeling a rush of adrenaline as you take your final bow. The applause reverberates in your ears, but your gaze remains fixed on Charles.

As you step offstage, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you navigate through the backstage area toward the bar. You can feel Charles’s presence behind you, and a mix of excitement and dread builds within you.

“Whoa! That was incredible! I’ve missed seeing you perform, little star.” he says as he approaches you with a smile on his face.

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you’re speechless. You take a moment to absorb his presence—his familiar warmth, his genuine admiration.

“Tha... Thanks... It's been a while since I felt that good on stage.” you say shyly.

You glance around nervously as other staff members and Sarah pass by, some offering nods of recognition to Charles. You can’t help but feel exposed under their scrutiny.

“Do you want to talk somewhere quieter?” he says softly while noticing your discomfort.

You hesitate for a bit. “Yeah... I guess that would be nice.”

You lead him to a small break room at the back of the club—a space filled with mismatched furniture and remnants of holiday treats. The atmosphere feels intimate compared to the bustling club outside.

Once inside, the door closes behind you, muffling the noise from the main area. You lean against the counter, arms crossed defensively as you try to gauge his intentions.

“So, ehm... What brings you back to Vegas? I thought you were busy with racing and all that stuff...” you asked him cautiously.

“Yeah, well, I was busy... but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to see how you’re doing—like, really doing.” he sighed and smiled at you.

His sincerity strikes a chord within you, but doubt still lingers. You remember how hard it is to open up before and how vulnerable it made you feel.

“Well... Things have been tough lately… work has been overwhelming...” you say while biting your lip.

Suddenly everything you have experienced in the last few months comes to your head, the humiliation, the mockery, the objectification, anxiety, the sacrifices you make to make ends meet and have enough money for everything you need and, without expecting it, your eyes fill with tears. A part of you longs for validation and support, but another part fears being let down again.

“Oh, don't cry little star, it's okay...” he says while he holds you in his arms and caresses your hair. “It's so okay, let it out.”

You sniffled. “It’s just that… I don’t know if I can trust anyone right now... Everything feels so chaotic; my life feels so chaotic and messier.”

Charles looks down at you, his expression earnest and understanding. “I get that... Trust takes time, but I’m here for you if you want to talk about it, I want to help.” he wipes a tear form your cheek.

You feel a flicker of hope ignite within you at his words. The vulnerability in his voice reminds you of that connection you shared—the one that felt so real yet so distant now.

“It’s hard for me to open up…” you say in a whisper.

“You don’t have to share everything all at once with me. Just know that I’m here to listen whenever you're ready, okay?” he says softly.

His patience reassures you, but fear still grips your heart. You remember how easily things can change—how quickly trust can be broken.

“I’ve been feeling lost… like I’m stuck in this cycle that I can’t escape.” you say while looking down.

He nodded. “And it’s so okay to feel that way, we all go through rough patches. What matters is that we can still find a way out... together.” he smiles at you.

You meet his gaze again, searching for sincerity in his eyes. There’s no judgment there—only care, understanding and compassion... Something you've been needing to find for a long time and now a stranger is giving it to you.

***

As the days rolled on, the festive spirit of Las Vegas enveloped you both. The city transformed into a dazzling wonderland, with sparkling lights adorning every corner and the joyous sounds of holiday celebrations filling the air. You and Charles made the most of your time together, exploring the vibrant culture and indulging in the culinary delights that the city had to offer.

On Christmas Eve, you found yourselves in a cozy café nestled within one of the extravagant hotels. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of baked goods, creating an inviting atmosphere. You sat across from each other, warm mugs cradled in your hands, and the soft glow of fairy lights twinkling around you.

As you sipped your drink, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in his presence... Charles had a way of making everything feel lighter, as if the burdens you carried were shared between you. But there was still a part of you that hesitated to delve deeper into your past, to reveal the struggles that lay beneath your cheerful façade.

“So, do you have any special traditions for Christmas?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

You smiled softly, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “Ehm... Not really, to be honest.” you admitted, looking down at your mug. “My family doesn’t celebrate much anymore... It’s just… complicated.”

He leaned in slightly, his expression encouraging. “Complicated how? If I may know.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, my family never really supported my choice to study psychology.” you began hesitantly. “They always thought it was a waste of time, they wanted me to pursue something more… practical.”

Charles nodded, his face reflecting understanding. “That must have been hard for you.” he said gently.

“It was.” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve always wanted to help people, to understand their emotions and struggles. But when the people closest to you don’t believe in your dreams… it’s hard not to feel like you’re on the wrong path.” you say softly.

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a reassuring gesture. “You’re not on the wrong path, little star. You’re doing something incredibly important.”

You appreciated his support, but the doubt still lingered in your mind. “It’s just… I didn’t have their financial support either.” you confessed, feeling vulnerable. “I’ve had to work multiple jobs to pay for school, including the job at the pole dance club... It’s so exhausting.”

Charles listened intently, his brow furrowing slightly as he absorbed your words. “That sounds really tough, I can’t imagine how isolating that must feel.”

You nodded, grateful for his empathy. “It is isolating.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve lost touch with friends who didn’t understand my commitment to my studies. It’s like I’m in this bubble where no one else really gets what I’m going through.”

He squeezed your hand gently, grounding you in that moment. “You’re not alone now.” he reassured you. “I’m here for you, and I want to understand what you’re experiencing.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, encouraging you to share more.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of loneliness.” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes. “I want to connect with others, but it’s hard when I feel so different from everyone else.”

Charles leaned closer, his voice soft and steady. “You’re not different in a bad way; you’re pursuing something meaningful. And those who truly care about you will see that...”

You looked into his eyes, searching for reassurance. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so.” he replied firmly. “You have so much passion and drive. That’s something to be proud of.”

As the conversation continued, you found yourself opening up more than you had anticipated. You shared stories of late nights spent studying, the moments of self-doubt that crept in during exams, and the fleeting joy of helping others during your internships.

His belief in you sparked something deep within—a flicker of hope that perhaps you weren’t as alone as you had felt for so long... The more you talked, the more liberated you felt from the weight of isolation that had clung to you for years.

***

The week leading up to New Year’s was always a time of reflection, a time when the world seemed to pause and take stock of the year gone by. The air was crisp, and the city sparkled with festive lights, but inside your cozy apartment, it was just the two of you—Charles and you—wrapped in a bubble of warmth and anticipation.

You had decided to spend the week together, a decision that felt both thrilling and terrifying. You could feel the chemistry bubbling between you—an electric charge that seemed to hum in the air whenever he was near, but with that chemistry came the fear of what it would mean if you let yourself fall for him.

As the sun began to set on the last day of the year, you and Charles found yourselves sprawled on the couch, surrounded by snacks and half-watched Christmas movies. The soft glow of fairy lights twinkled around the room, creating an intimate atmosphere that made your heart race, you glanced sideways at him, his profile illuminated by the flickering light from the TV. He looked so relaxed, his hair slightly tousled and a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he focused on the screen.

“Do you ever think about New Year’s resolutions?” Charles asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned your head to look at him fully. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “But I’m not very good at keeping them.” you giggled.

He chuckled softly. “Same here, I usually start strong, but by February, I’ve forgotten all about them.”

“What do you think this year’s should be?” you asked playfully, trying to keep the conversation light.

He pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing adorably. “Maybe something like… be more spontaneous? Or try to embrace change?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Embrace change? That sounds deep!”

“Yeah, well.” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s important to be open to new experiences, you never know what could happen.”

His words struck a chord within you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was hinting at something more—something between the two of you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

“What about you?” he asked, turning the question back to you. “What do you want for this coming year?”

You hesitated, your heart racing as you considered your answer. Part of you wanted to say something lighthearted, but another part yearned for honesty.

“I guess… I want to be braver.” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Braver?” he echoed, his gaze intense as he studied your face. “In what way?”

You swallowed hard, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. “In life… in love.” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve always been scared of getting hurt, so I hold back.”

He nodded slowly, understanding washing over his features. “That makes sense.” he said softly. “It’s hard to let someone in when you’re afraid of what might happen.”

You felt a connection deepen between you in that moment—a shared understanding of vulnerability that made your heart ache with longing.

“Exactly.” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “But I think… maybe I want to try.”

Charles’s expression softened as he leaned closer to you, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken. “Try what?” he asked gently.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your words hang in the air between you. “Try to let myself feel more… to let someone in.” Your heart raced as you said it, the truth spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He held your gaze steadily, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded away until it was just the two of you—two souls intertwined in a moment of raw honesty.

“I’d like that.” he said finally, his voice low and sincere. “I’d like to be that person for you.”

A rush of warmth flooded through you at his words, but with it came a wave of fear... What if this was too much? What if falling for him meant risking everything? You pulled back slightly, breaking eye contact as uncertainty clouded your mind.

“Charles…” you started, but he interrupted gently.

“Hey.” he said softly, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent sparks through your skin, and you shivered involuntarily at his closeness. “We don’t have to rush into anything, I just want you to know that I’m here.”

His sincerity made your heart swell and ache all at once. You wanted so desperately to lean into him—to let yourself fall into this beautiful connection—but fear held you back like an anchor.

“Can we just… take it slow?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

“Of course we can do that.” he replied without hesitation. “I’d never want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

You smiled gratefully at him, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. Maybe this was enough for now—just being here together, exploring this slow burn without any pressure or expectations.

As the evening wore on and the clock ticked closer to midnight, you found yourselves lost in conversation—sharing stories about childhood dreams and future aspirations, laughter punctuating each moment as the bond between you deepened.

At one point, Charles reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his touch sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and for a moment, all your fears faded away.

As midnight approached, the anticipation in the air grew thick with excitement. You settled back against the couch, feeling giddy as Charles pulled out his phone to check the time.

“Just a few minutes left!” he exclaimed with a grin.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him; his enthusiasm was infectious. He glanced at you then, his expression softening as he leaned closer again.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his eyes locked onto yours.

“For what?” you asked teasingly.

“For whatever comes next.” he replied earnestly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his words—so simple yet so profound. In that moment, everything felt possible. You nodded slowly, feeling a rush of courage wash over you.

“Yes...” you whispered.

As the countdown began on TV, excitement bubbled between you like champagne ready to overflow. With each passing second, your heart raced faster until finally…

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The room erupted in cheers from the television as confetti fell on-screen and fireworks lit up the sky outside your window. But all that mattered was Charles—his eyes sparkling with joy as he turned to face you.

And then it happened: he leaned in closer and pressed his lips against yours—a soft yet electrifying kiss that sent shivers down your spine. It was tentative yet filled with promise; a beautiful beginning wrapped in hope and possibility.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him back, savoring the sweet taste of new beginnings and uncharted territory. In that moment, all your fears melted away as if they had never existed at all.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Charles smiled at you—a smile that lit up his entire face and made your heart soar.

“Happy New Year, petite étoile.” he murmured softly. (little star)

“Happy New Year charlie.” you echoed, feeling lighter than air as hope blossomed within you—a hope for what this year might bring and for the journey ahead with him by your side.

And as fireworks exploded outside your window, illuminating the night sky with vibrant colors, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to embrace whatever came next together.

***

The days turned into weeks, and your bond with Charles deepened in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Each moment spent together felt like a new adventure, filled with laughter, shared secrets, and the warmth of companionship.

One evening, after a delightful dinner at a cozy restaurant, you found yourselves walking along the waterfront, the moonlight shimmering on the water's surface. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine, you felt a sense of peace wash over you as you strolled side by side, your fingers intertwined.

As you walked, Charles suddenly stopped, turning to face you with a serious expression that caught you off guard. “Can we talk about something?” he asked, his voice low and earnest.

Your heart raced slightly as you nodded. “Of course babe! What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us—about how much I care for you. You mean more to me than I can express.” he said, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I want to take care of you in every way possible.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, unsure where this conversation was leading but intrigued nonetheless. “What do you mean?” you asked softly.

Charles stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I want to be your sugar daddy.” he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “And I know it sounds weird, but it's not in a bad way, I mean, I want to support you while you study psychology, to help you leave behind all the stress and worries that weigh you down.”

Your mind raced as you processed his words. The idea of having someone like Charles in your life—someone who wanted to provide for you, who believed in your dreams and aspirations—was both exhilarating and daunting.

“Are you serious?” you managed to ask, your heart pounding.

“Absolutely!” he replied without hesitation. “I want us to build a life together. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I believe we could be so much more than what we are now.” He paused, gauging your reaction before continuing. “I want you to move out of Las Vegas and come with me to Monaco.”

The mention of Monaco sent a thrill through you. The thought of leaving behind the familiar chaos of city life for a place known for its beauty and luxury was intoxicating, but it also brought a wave of uncertainty.

“Monaco? That’s such a big step, Charles.” you said, trying to process everything. “But... What about my studies?” you asked softly.

Charles smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course you can continue your studies there! They have excellent universities, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need to succeed.” he said softly at you.

His words resonated deep within you, igniting a spark of hope and excitement that had long been dormant. The idea of pursuing your passion for psychology without the burden of financial stress felt like a dream come true.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, vulnerability creeping into your voice. “What if I can’t adjust?”

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. “Life is about taking risks, isn't it? And I believe in us—more than anything else in this world! I promise to be there every step of the way, you won’t be alone; we’ll figure it out together.”

His sincerity washed over you like a warm wave, and for the first time, you felt the weight of your worries begin to lift. The thought of embarking on this journey with him filled you with a sense of possibility.

“Okay.” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m willing to try.”

A radiant smile broke across Charles’s face as he pulled you into his arms, enveloping you in warmth and safety. “You won’t regret this, mon amour.” he whispered against your hair. (my love)

In that moment, everything felt so right to you... The world around you faded away as he held you close, and all that mattered was the connection between the two of you—a bond that had grown from two strangers into something deeper and more profound...

As the stars twinkled above like diamonds scattered across the night sky, you knew that this was just the beginning of an incredible journey together—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of a brighter future.

***

The soft hum of the city outside your window filled the room as the moonlight spilled in, casting a silvery glow over your study room. You had been immersed in your psychology textbooks, determined to master the material before your upcoming class. However, fatigue had crept in, and before you knew it, you had succumbed to sleep, your head resting on your notes, surrounded by the comforting chaos of your studies.

Charles had just returned from a long day of meetings with sponsors, his mind still buzzing with the events of the day. He was looking forward to spending time with you, but as he stepped into your study room, he was met with a scene that made his heart swell... There you were, curled up on the desk, your little stuffed bear nestled beside you, as if it were standing guard while you slept.

A soft smile spread across his face at the sight. “Well, well, if it isn’t my little Sleepy Scholar.” he whispered affectionately, approaching you with quiet steps. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly as he began to pick up the scattered books, papers and highlighters on the table. “You really should consider changing your name to ‘Overworked Wonder.'” he teased gently, glancing down at your peaceful expression.

As he organized your notes, he found himself admiring how well you had adapted to life in Monaco. You had embraced the city with open arms, exploring its beauty and charm while pursuing your studies with unwavering determination. It filled him with pride and love to see you thriving after everything you had faced back in Vegas.

His fingers brushed against the plush bear, and he couldn’t resist giving it a gentle squeeze. “And look who’s here to protect my precious girl, hm?” he said with a playful grin. “You’re doing a fantastic job, Mr. Bear!”

With everything neatly arranged, he turned his attention back to you. The sight of you sleeping so soundly tugged at his heartstrings. He knew how hard you had been working and how much this new chapter meant to you, he wanted nothing more than to take care of you, to ensure that you felt safe and loved in this new place.

Gently, he slipped his arms under your body, lifting you effortlessly from the desk. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake as he cradled you against him. “Time for bed, my little scholar.” he murmured softly, the warmth of your body against his bringing him a sense of peace. “You need a deserved rest in a comfy bed.”

He carried you to the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps barely audible over the gentle lapping of waves outside. As he laid you down on the bed, he carefully tucked the covers around you, ensuring that you were warm and comfortable. The plush bear found its place beside you once more, as if it were keeping watch over you in your dreams.

Charles took a moment to admire you—your features relaxed in sleep, a serene expression gracing your face. The love he felt for you swelled within him as he brushed a stray hair away from your forehead. “Sweet dreams, my love.” he whispered softly before slipping into bed beside you.

As he settled in next to you, the day’s exhaustion caught up with him. He turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand and watching you sleep for a moment longer. The way you breathed peacefully filled him with an overwhelming sense of contentment, It felt like everything was right in the world.

But soon enough, the weight of fatigue pulled at him too. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of the bed and the comfort of your presence. As sleep enveloped him, dreams began to weave their way into his mind—visions of laughter-filled days exploring Monaco’s stunning coastline together, quiet evenings spent sharing stories under starlit skies, and a future filled with love and promise.

In that shared moment of tranquility, two hearts beat as one—connected by love and trust, embracing the beauty of their journey together. The world outside faded away as they drifted into a peaceful slumber, knowing that they would face whatever challenges lay ahead side by side.

As the night wore on, Charles found himself wrapped in dreams filled with laughter and light—a reflection of the joy you brought into his life. And in that serene space, both of you slept soundly, cocooned in warmth and love in your new home in Monaco.

[abyssalzones]

okay randomly pulling this one out of my head because I've been trying to figure out how the hell I want to say it for a while: what's crazy about the new wave of gf fans is that I've seen the sentiment (though I also saw it once or twice back in 2016) that shipping bill with ford is "saving" people from the alternative of the most popular bill ship being That Which We No Longer Mention By Name and I have to say that this literally only checks out if your entire understanding of why pedophilia is bad is because It Just Is, rather than the fact that a child by definition cannot consent and the power dynamics at play mean it is always a form of abuse, it's an adult exercising control over a child. like it's the abuse itself that's bad. so by that logic I have to assume people are either 1. choosing to ignore the fact that within canon, ford was coerced/straight up lied to and then had his consent violated repeatedly, Or 2. insisting that this is all okay because ford is an adult. who consented at one point in time (under dire circumstances) (it wasn't even his idea??) even though he revoked that consent later and it was ignored. like it's fascinating to me how bill refers to ford as. hang on actually so you know I'm not just making this shit up

he quite literally calls him a child here (from the website) while explaining Why he went after ford and the thing is you see it reflected perfectly in his behavior: he calls him 'kid' even when he's in his 60's to taunt him, he makes him get rid of a beloved pet he doesn't approve of, he unquestionably acts as a mentor more than a friend on equal standing, fucking etc. point being I think gravity falls does something a lot of stories don't even when they try to cover this type of subject matter where they make it obvious that being a victim of abuse isn't a matter of age or intelligence. abusive people will look for vulnerability in Anyone and I really don't think there's a hard moral line here.

I think the point of what I'm trying to say is that if one is okay and the other isn't: uh. why? what does it say when an almost identical if not more insidious* narrative about a character being abused is okay because it has a more "acceptable" veneer of sex appeal?

*"more" is subjective here, personally I think ford being written as a victim is more obvious/intentional than the stuff going on with dipper because in his case they were in a relationship ("relationship" in big quotes) for multiple years which adds layers to it. both are bad obviously but I think what gets implied in ford's story is worse on purpose. okay back to studying bye

[ghouljams]

I know every fandom has it's fair share of "incest"(not sure if thats the correct term) but it seems like the cod fandom has it so much more than the other popular ones

I mean maybe I'm not 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 enough and I know every person has their own turn ons and off but it can't be just me who thinks this is weird/cod fandom has like so much more of it (and I have been on the internet for a good 8+ years and have been deep in fandoms)

(idk maybe I'm just rambling out of my ass because I have ocd and intrusive thoughts place my own family members the moment I say words about a family)

Omg hi friend!

First of all I want to say that I'm glad you asked because I've actually been thinking about this!

I have a major(MAJOR) turn off for actual incest in fanfiction. Maybe because I lived through homestuck and people fucking love incest in that fandom, but I cannot read it without getting squicked out. Faux-cest though doesn't seem to give me the same problem and I think it's because there's always an undercurrent of "this is pretend" when done right, it feels porn-y, fake. I think it's because (in my mind) faux-cest falls under the "humiliation/degradation" kink, there's an overt power dynamic there that feels... different from actual incest fics.

Which also? The amount of people who have DDlg/MDlb kinks in this fandom is insane. Every day I see people calling Price "daddy" and I just... I'm gonna be so honest with y'all I hate seeing "daddy" in a fic, I don't mind caretaker doms but I just can't get into age play or the uwu cutesy way some of those fics go. But that's just me.

All that to give me some credibility in telling you: I don't think it's the cod fandom at large, but maybe just the writers who all follow each other and seem to get the same brain worms at the same time(I am guilty of this).

I think for some people there's an element of "I just figured out how to write this kink and I'm making it everyone's problem" and for others it's a "this seems popular at the moment let me throw my hat in the ring." Personally I had a faux-cest dream that I didn't particularly enjoy, honestly felt more like a nightmare, but I figured other people would see kink in the horrific so I popped it up on the blog.

Anyway I don't think you have to be "freaky enough" or even put yourself through reading a kink you don't enjoy, there's a reason I've been putting trigger tags on all the faux-cest stuff! I want people to be able to filter it out. Hell, a lot of it squicks me out, and I've written some of it. I don't really see it as any more prevalent in the cod fandom than others though. I mean every fandom has a decent portion that jump straight to incest stuff, you may have just managed to avoid it fairly well.

[brotherwtf]

Okay so I read thought your Clegan Age Gap AU and I am ENTRANCED like I am soooo down for it and let me make sure I get this straight but after they first kiss and admit their feelings for each other they start living together but they still don’t do anything sexual for a whole year because John thinks Gale is too young and doesn’t want to take advantage of him?

I’m just imagining the absolute TORTURE this had to have been for John especially with Gale constantly teasing him and trying to get him to give in, throwing himself all over John, rutting up against him while they kiss, undressing in front of him, climbing into bed with him on top of him and straddling him, literally BEGGING John to fuck him. That man was so strong I don’t know how he did it 😩

oh man, thank you anon!! honestly i recently did a reread of all of my age gap stuff because they have such a vice grip on me, those fucking boys I swear to fucking god I will never know peace

some small timeline stuff just to clear up some things: Gale meets John in like January or February before he turns 20, just after he turned 19, and they don't start dating until maybe October or November, close enough to when Gale turns twenty but still too long to go without being depraved

in this au I'm making Gale a virgin, he hasn't experienced anything other than kissing and so when John finds this out he's a little spooked, doesn't want to take advantage of Gale before they're sure their relationship is going to stick. He's afraid Gale wouldn't want to do it with someone so much older than him, doesn't even know why Gale wants to be with him in the first place, so he wants to make it extra special for him. He's also a little spooked by the "teen" in Gale's age, he can make a perfectly fine excuse for dating him and kissing him but he's not entirely comfortable having sex with someone so young

Gale of course doesn't give a flying fuck about John's age. He's a consenting adult who finds John insanely attractive and wants to have sex with him, he's desperately trying to get John to touch him and be a little rougher with him, but John won't budge, promises he'll do it on Gale's birthday and make it extra special for him, which only makes Gale pout even more

that doesn't stop John from being turned on by Gale though, oh no, Gale is purposefully being a dickhead and trying to get John to overcome his silly little deadline by wearing slutty tops and tight jeans, picks the perfect clothing to drive John absolutely insane, and John just grits his teeth and clenches his fist because he has morals, he will not fall to the whim of Gale, no matter how hard he tries

they settle for insane make out sessions, one's where they're basically dry humping each other into the couch and where they're basically swapping spit, mouths open and groans deep and heavy, Gale sat in John's lap with John's arm around his waist, and maybe Gale can handle this, just until his twentieth birthday at least

and you know John's gonna make their first time the absolute sweetest thing on planet earth, but I shant discuss it here, full fic coming around during christmastime :))

[msunitedstatesjames]

Rating Veilguard companions based on their living spaces:

I'm coming up on the last handful of missions in Veilguard, and I noticed that I hadn't really spent all that much time looking around the rooms of the companions. I pretty much burst in and out, only staying long enough to hear whatever they have to say. So I decided to do a more in depth look. (There will be some moderate spoilers ahead if you haven't worked your way through most of Emmrich's companion quests.)

7. Lucanis

Okay, we've all heard the reasoning behind Lucanis's room of choice, but this "room" is still sad. As awesome as access to the kitchens is, this is just a straight up trauma room. That's without even mentioning the perilous number of candles near the bed of such a haunted (literally) man. But, at least he has somewhere to sleep, unlike some others, and he has plenty of supplies of citrus fruit, so scurvy won't be an issue.

6. Emmrich

I hate to rank this one so low. Not only is Emmrich my romance of choice, but I'm a huge book lover in real life, and I love this aesthetic. But this man doesn't have anywhere to sleep! He's in his 50s and has nowhere to sleep! Much has been said about where he might be sleeping every night. Does he sleep on the corpse slab? Does he sleep in the big red chair? Does he curl up in front of the fire like a hound? If he was 19 maybe those options would be feasible. But I'm in my early thirties in real life, and the idea of spending a night on a hard floor/slab is already unbearable to imagine, and sitting upright all night is only done if I'm so ill I can't do otherwise. No bed is just unforgiveable. Also, he's stuck with the skull and spirit of his former friend/rival seemingly listening in on everything and critiquing him constantly. Imagine just minding your own business and having a skull call you "moldering" while implying you're too old to be with your partner of choice. On the other hand, I envy the shelf space, the spiral staircase, and the gorgeous balcony view.

5. Taash

Maybe Taash likes having a gloomy room, I don't know. But sometimes this room looks like a straight up dungeon. Also, though there is some good functionality for training and such, the room lacks daily functionality due to the sheer amount of stuff everywhere. I get that Taash is a Lord of Fortune and treasure hunting is like their whole thing, but like, does Taash really need multiple huge stacks of silver bars and random sheaths of fabric here in their temporary Fade bedroom? What's the point of having so many tables if none of them have any more room to set things on when you actually need to? Some of these rugs are fantastic though. And Taash is one of only two companions with a real bed, so that counts for a lot.

4. Bellara

This is more workshop than bedroom, which I guess suits Bellara well enough. But there's a couple of issues here. First, there's some pretty spiky tools a little close to her cot. God forbid she has a nightmare and jerks upright out of a deep sleep, she'd get slightly impaled. Also, imagine trying to sleep with the smug face of the Archive looking out at you all the time. And don't forget the room is just full to bursting with mirrors. That seems like a confusing, hazardous, headache inducing horror. There is some cool elven decor though.

3. Neve

Neve has a pretty tiny space compared to some of the others, but I guess it's fitting for a noir style detective. She does have a bed, though it's only a less than stellar cot. She also has a bunch of wisps stealing her stuff all the time. But she has a beautiful view, more privacy than some of the others, and a nice desk, which is essential to a detective. And in the end this room is kind of gorgeous.

2. Harding

This whole place is fabulous. The plants are amazing. The magic butterflies are enchanting. The giant ceiling flower is beautiful. Harding doesn't have a real bed, but she has a canopy and a bedroll, which she's probably pretty comfortable in by now after 10+ years of being a scout. I also like that this room grows and transforms over the course of the story. Personally, I think this is the most aesthetically pleasing of the rooms, and I imagine there's some crickets in there to give you that peaceful summer evening soundtrack.

1.Davrin

Davrin's biggest advantage is the simple fact that he has a private sleeping area with a real bed. No one else has both of those things. On top of that, it's a functional space for he and Assan. It's open and has a nice perch for easy Assan access. It has shelf space for his carvings. He has lots of cool knick knacks. He has lots of natural light and a great view. But after looking more closely at his space I almost dropped him down a spot for one reason. NUGS. Did I miss a dialogue line about his love for nugs? Because there's A LOT of nug memorabilia in this place. There's a taxidermy nug with a face only Leliana could love. There's little nug carvings. There's bigger nug carvings. There's drawings of nug anatomy. I don't know if I'm more freaked out by the idea that Davrin brought them or the idea that Solas left them. Still, he does have a cozy fireplace/chair combo, as long as you don't mind being watched by the empty stares of a thousand lifeless nugs.

[majoryeager104]

You + Me = three pt 2

Summary: headcannons of Touya as an official dad

warnings: Language, mentions of murder (☝️💀) and Touya needing to be protected at all costs (as usual 😩)

It’s a daughter

And he’s never been more happy

He can’t really explain why he wanted a daughter so bad

But he was beyond ecstatic when he got to hold her for the first time

As said before, if he could cry, he would

He’d definitely be a protective dad

Like besides you NO ONE can hold his little princess 🙅‍♀️

Because “no mf you’ll DROP HER, or she’ll get ANXIOUS, or ILL GET ANXIOUS”

But at the same time

Yk those memes that are like “dad vs mom” and the mom is cuddling the baby, and the dad is like treating it like a ragdoll? Slinging it over his shoulder and stuff?

Yeah that’s him too. 

A year in you walk into the living room

And he’s got your daughter upside down

Walking on her hands 

While he holds her ankles

“She wanted to do a hand stand”

And he’d shrug like it wasn’t an ACTUAL BABY

Like everyone else would treat her irresponsibly but him

And that mindset of his never goes away

Can you imagine when his daughter is a teenager?

Bringing a boy home?

I think the fuck not 😤

He’ll either threaten the kid

Or like actually burn him. 

Like fr

He’s a villain okay

But he’s got his priorities straight at least

Bc the boy was probably gonna try and use her anyways 😤

At least according to Touya

So he deserved it 🧍 

Moving on from child murder

Back to baby hc’s

He’d totally steal naps with the baby when he can

He’s not even tired 

But holding his baby

And having her fall asleep in his arms? 

An elevated experience for him

ESPECIALLY if it means you can catch a break

Buuuuut

Nap time with baby AND you?

He’s in heaven. 

His two favorite people

The two people in the world he would protect at any cost

And he gets to cuddle with them 🥹 

I think on a serious note though

The experience of being a dad 

And raising a kid with you

Definitely made him think about a few things 

Like

Revenge didn’t feel worth it anymore. 

If it meant he’d die in a few months

And leave you two behind?

Nah

Bc having you two 

Was the best thing to happen to him

Because

He didn’t want to die for you

He wanted to live for you

So what was the point in dying in such a terrible way?

So his daughter could grow up without her dad? 

Absolutely not. 

So

Should he have a family with you 

That revenge he’d been working towards would be obsolete 

All that energy that he stored up

For the moment he’d destroy the lives of his father and those who wronged him?

That energy is being put to better use now

Now he’s making time to take his daughter on walks so you can rest

And making her and you pancakes every morning

Every single day 

As his daughter gets older and older, he definitely opens up about the things he’s done 

He’d been in a shell for so long 

Hiding himself from people

That he never wanted to do that again

At least not with you or your daughter

And once again

Another moment where if he could he’d cry?

Is when his daughter smiles

And says she understands

Just like you did all those years ago when he told you 

Because now he had a family

An actual family 

Who loved and understood him

And he’ll be holding onto these moments

That he considers ever so sacred and precious

Till the day he finally drops dead

Ughhhh Dad Touya has my heart I fear 🖐️😭 having a whole redemption arc for the sake of his family bc Enji never did that for him 💔💔💔

[bringthekaos]

are you gonna keep writing jayvik now that viktor is confirmed straight?

Gunna answer this one diplomatically, even though this ask was clearly sent with malice. Warning for Act 2 spoilers (and possible Act 3 spoilers, since the footage used in the "The Line" music video is most likely from Act 3).

First, when I continue to write Jayvik, it will probably have to be an AU anyway, because I have about 2% confidence that both of them make it out of this show alive.

Second: he is still not confirmed straight. He was depicted taking Sky's hands as she fades away for a second time. This means nothing, romantically. It means he regrets this is happening, he knows it's his fault, and he wishes to bring comfort to her in her last moments.

And that's if it even is her, and not a manifestation of his guilt, given that she doesn't look like herself at all in his hallucinations, or whatever it is. Her eyebrows are thinner in the hallucination, and her hair is wholly different: not as high on her head nor as tightly bundled or curly. This points to a suggestion that this manifestation is his best effort of representing her in his mind, and it is wrong because he didn't know her well at all.

Not to mention, in the very few interactions that they had (before Jayce's Progress Day Speech and when she asked him to walk home together), he was shown just... not receptive. It could have been read as disinterest because he is gay (which obviously many people did), or just that he has a very one-track mind on his research at the time, and isn't even cognizant of the missed social interaction. But either way, there was no foundation for connection, intimate or otherwise, between them. Certainly not enough for the heavy-handed and forced connection depicted in season 2.

THAT SAID, I am a very ship and let ship person. I have certainly fabricated ships from less. Hell, I've shipped characters that never even interacted in canon. And I have no problem with the SkyVik ship, given that his sexuality was never confirmed one way or the other. Honestly, if it had been built up better in the writing, there is potential there! Both of them being from Zaun, and clawing their way into the Academy, which as Jayce said has a success rate of 3%. But it is not groundbreaking or even remotely incorrect to say that this ship is fabricated (and not in a negative sense. It's just fact). There wasn't enough to support it. He brushed her off multiple times. And he only seems to give her the attention after she is dead, which again points to a motivation of guilt: he wishes he'd gotten to know her and her aspirations and dreams before her life was cut short by him. But it's too late.

And lastly, the thing everyone needs to understand is this: Jayce and Viktor were released in League in 2012, and Jayce was specifically built as the mirror to Viktor. It was honestly quite a poetic "formed from the rib" kind of release for Jayce, who came 7 months after Viktor. These two had no canon romantic involvements in that time beyond mere speculation, so naturally they had very queer undertones for almost ten years before Arcane came out. And I don't think it's much of a leap to be disappointed when the producers and distributors of the show decided that they couldn't make their show "too gay" for mainstream audiences. Especially when the pre-established League fanbase consisted of 87% men (source), and a lot of cishet men are threatened/disgusted by/afraid of gay men, yet fetishize lesbian sex. So yeah. The Jayvik shippers get understandably disappointed when their 10-year old ship gets no-homo'd at the finish line.

So to answer your original question. Yeah. I am probably gunna continue to write Jayvik. Yes, even if they're both "confirmed" straight. I will hit them both with the bi hammer. And I will tag my stuff accordingly, and "stay in my lane" so to speak, and everyone is welcome to block me if they don't wanna see it. I'm not gunna go around harassing SkyVik shippers, just as I have never harassed MelJayce shippers. And I'm sure this will be called "misogyny" by many who'd like to assign a moral high ground to their attempts at eradicating the JayVik ship. Trust me, if I could have my ship without disregarding two amazing women, I would do it. But I can't, because someone at the decision making table decided to give two characters who never had any romantic involvements in League the no homo treatment.

And of course, as always, the season is not over. Some of this could change. But my love of the JayVik ship won't. Block me if you don't like it.

For obvious reasons, anon is now off ✌️

[rebelliousstories]

A Thief and An X-Man

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 2,738

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Southern charm is a thing. Something that Remy LeBeau has taken advantage of over the years. All it took was one little X-Man to throw him off his rhythm apparently…

How everyone found themselves in their own current predicament, only the universe knows. The tomfoolery that had followed them during their journey was like something straight out of a superhero book.

Remy panted and hugged his side as he rested against the brick wall behind him. His partner in crime, albeit a reluctant one, mirrored his actions against the other wall of the alleyway. She was glaring hard in between her pants in an attempt to catch her breath.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you Cajun?” There were shouts and the pounding of footsteps getting closer and closer.

“What can I say, chere? I like pretty things.” The weight of the jewels in his pocket weighed down under her gaze.

“We’re being chased because you couldn’t keep your greedy little hands off of stuff that doesn’t belong to you!” Her words were almost drowned completely out by the pounding of footsteps.

Making a split second decision, Remy grabbed her hand and began to haul the woman towards a fire escape that was already pulled down. She was confused, but faced with the possibility of the men that were chasing them catching up? She would take the fire escape with the thief. As soon as they had made it up onto the roof of whatever building this was, Remy leaned over the edge to get a look at their personal mob that now ran by the building and alleyway they had disappeared into. With a smirk, he laid down on the cool tiles below.

“We safe now,” she questioned, almost ready to run again.

“I wouldn’t be layin’ down if we weren’t. Now would I, chere?” His eyes slipped closed as he relaxed as much as he could.

“Oh, of course. Because I should be trusting the person who got us into this mess, to be honest and truthful when he is a known Thief, to get us out of this mess. Wolverine needs to come and extract me right now.” Her grumbling was followed by the sound of her trying to use her transponder. With a frustrated groan, it clattered to the ground when it would not work.

For three days, she had been stuck in Louisiana with the leader of the Thieves Guild. A mission that she had been sent on alone to help the X-Men get a relic that needed to be kept out of the wrong hands. Had they been able to do it solo, they would have. But the Thieves were the only people who had made it to where they needed her to go, and made it back out. Thus, an unlikely alliance was made. And from that point forward, she had been subjected to the rugged charms of the one they call Gambit.

From the second she walked up to him, she had been the focus of his flirtations. Maybe it was the fact that she was a new pretty face for him. Or maybe it was that fact that she was “forbidden fruit” being an X-Man. Whatever it was, for the past three weeks, she had been subject to every one liner and flirty comment.

In all honesty, she did not mind the banter that they usually had. It was better than being with someone that did not talk much, like a certain X-Man she knew. But it was annoying once he got into a flirtatious mood.

“Ooo, chere. Did it hurt when ya fell from heaven? You look so angelic.”

“Shut up, Cajun.”

“Here, let Gambit take care o’ dat for ya. Ain’t no reason to sweat your pretty brow.”

“If Gambit don’t give me back my tools, I’m not gonna sweat my brow over putting him down.”

It was like this for three days. Any chance he got, he took. She could see that he was just doing it to get a rise out of her, since she refused to be another notch on his belt. Even though some times, she could almost swear there was something genuine about the affectionate quips he made. A sharp bark pulled her from her thoughts and brought her attention to the transponder that was still down by her feet. Careful not to step on it, she opened it to be met with the authoritative voice of a certain Canadian calling her name.

“Where have you been? You were supposed to check in an hour ago, bub.” He was upset, that was for sure. But after all these years, she could hear through the layers to his tone and knew it was just because he cared for his team like his own family.

“Wolverine, I’m fine. We ran into a snag but we should be getting back on track soon. The communicator wouldn’t work earlier or I would have checked in at the appropriate time,” came her retort. A groan trailed into a sigh on the other end of the line.

“Just be safe, kid. Let me know when you get the relic. We’ll be waiting to extract you when you need it.” His voice lowered in volume, and his tone shifted.

“Will do, Wolvie. Just gotta get this Cajun to actually get me to the place, then we’ll be on our way home.” With that, the two X-Men signed off from each other. She sat there for a moment longer as she began to rub her temples. The evening breeze was welcome against her flushed face.

“So you and da Wolverine, huh?” Gambit’s sudden ask brought her out of her head quick.

“What? Me and him? No, god no. We just work well together. He’s the one that got me into the school. Got me into the X-Men,” she stood, and looked around the night sky that was sprinkled with lights. “You gonna take me where I need to go, or do I need to find another thief to do it?”

“Oh, you wound me, chere. Suppose if ya did that, I could call another X-Man to grab the item with me instead.” He teased, finally rising to his feet.

With fluid movements, like that of a skilled ballet dancer, Remy looked towards the streets again. The mutant dubbed them safe enough, and began his descent down the same fire escape that he had them go up on. She followed after him, always maintaining a bit of distance between them as they went closer and closer to where they needed to go.

A well lit mansion greeted the two mutants after a while. This was the house that she had been searching for. She was finally here. Once again, she followed Gambit’s lead. After all, he and his guild made it out of here before with their pockets loaded. They could do it one more time.

Gambit caused a minor explosion on one of the windows in the back of the building making her flinch as she expected the commotion to begin. And yet, there was nothing. No alarms, no dogs barking or humans shouting. He turned back to the stunned woman with nothing short of a pompous smirk on, before he climbed through the window. She took his hand to help stabilize her while she was slipping through the opening.

They had ended up in the west wing of the mansion, only a few doors down from the room that they needed to go to. She had no time to be stunned at how efficient this mutant was seeing as he was already grabbing her hand to pull her through the house. Their journey was cut short when they spotted guards walking towards them in the hallway. Remy tucked them both against a wall that was out of sight, but knew they did not have long. Scanning around, he did not see a spare room or broom closet. He tried not to show the panic on his face, but he could feel his heart speeding up.

“They not supposed to be here, chere. We gotta go back out.” But when he tried to leave, the sounds of quiet conversation and boots on the hardwood floor were far too close now.

“Go with me,” was all the warning that the Cajun was given. In an instant, she made him press her against the wall. What he did not expect even more than that, was the fact that she had him engaged in a full lip lock. Stunned did not even begin to describe what he was feeling. Here this woman was, kissing him voluntarily, after spending the last three days shutting him down at every chance.

Losing himself in the moment that he wished would never end, Remy kept one of his hands on the wall near her head, while the other went to the dip of her waist. Her hands came up and pressed him even closer by the nape of his neck. This was a dream. A wonderful, beautiful dream that he did not want to wake from. Unfortunately, that was not in the cards for him. Right as he was truly enjoying the moment, a wolf whistle caught his attention. But she did not let him turn around. Instead, she pressed his face into her neck while she shouted at the guards that had finally rounded the corner.

“Cad é? Cad atá tú ag féachaint air?” Now that was a language Remy had never heard spoken. His confused face was stuck in the crook of her neck, while he felt her shooing the men away. Apparently, they were just as confused as he was, but left without complaint. As soon as they were away from the par of mutants, she pushed Remy back a bit.

“Now, where in da world is dat language from, chere? Gambit ain’t never heard nothin’ like it in his whole life.” He was a bit out of breath but it was understandable.

“I used to go visit my grandmother in Ireland when I was a kid. She made me fluent in Gaelic.” She was just as out of breath as him, but neither called attention as to the reason why.

They both sat there for a moment, not moving from their spots where they were oh so close to one another. This was the closest they had been physically the entire time they had been working together. And it was breaking down barriers that had been put in place for their own sanity and safety.

“Let’s get going before someone else catches us and we can’t get out of it as easily,” she stated breathily. For her own sake, she needed to do something, and soon before she could not stop herself. Remy nodded to himself, to confirm that he had heard her or to shake himself out of his own stupor, who knows. But soon, they were back on track with him grabbing her hand and leading them to the room once more.

Gambit made quick work of picking the lock, and then they were inside. Encased in glass was a small pendant and necklace. Unassuming at first, but they knew better. This one little artifact was responsible for so much suffering around the world, and more of it if they did not get it out of non-mutant hands. Remy approached the glass case and looked for a way to get it open without disturbing it too much. But the sound of glass shattering spooked him, made him jump back from the shards.

“You were taking too long.” She shrugged, turning back to look at the pendant. Pulling out her own case for the necklace, she tried very hard not to touch the jewel in the center. Once it was secured, Remy did another look out to make sure that the coast was clear.

“Let’s get going, chere. Don’t want no unwelcome guests taggin’ along now.” The two mutants slipped out the same way that they entered. It was such a shock for her, not having any hangups during a mission. Usually it was every chance the universe got to make something go wrong, it did. So to have one go this smoothly was a welcomed change of pace.

They fled into the night before them, and did not look back until they were safe in the heart of New Orleans once more. Lights, music, and conversation drowned out any and all thoughts they had for just a minute or two. Instead of going somewhere quiet and out of the way, Gambit ended up leading them further not the heart of the city to a late night cafe.

As soon as they sat down, he ordered something for them both to eat and drink, but she was not paying any attention to him. Instead, she was trying to figure out how she was going to discreetly call her team back at the mansion to go home. For some reason though, it was not working right now.

“This thing has been finicky the entire time I’ve been here. Doesn’t know whether or not it wants to work when I need it to.” She lamented, tossing the item down onto the table before them.

“So, now that you got whatcha came here for, just gonna head home? Like that?” There was a mournful tone to his voice that did not miss her ears. Neither one needed to say exactly why he sounded so upset at her leaving, or rather neither wanted to acknowledge why he was upset.

“Well, there’s always someone else that needs saving. Or a disaster that needs to be avoided,” she said, watching his face carefully.

“Right, right…” he trailed off, not quite knowing where to take it from here. Thankfully, a waitress came by with two bowls, and two drinks for them to enjoy.

“What on earth did you order for me?” Poking her spoon around in the stew like dish in front of her, she arched an eyebrow and looked at the Cajun.

“Dat right der is what we call gumbo, chere. It’s real good. Gotta use dat piece o’ baguette at the end though.” When she still did not eat, he tried a different tactic. “Come on. Humor me before ya head on home, chere?”

If you ever asked her, she would vehemently deny that she had given in to the soft way he pleaded with her. Bringing the spoonful of hot stew and rice to her lips, a symphony of flavors erupted on her tongue. It was unlike anything she had ever eaten. The chicken, sausage and shrimp were so tender and perfectly cooked. The veggies melted, and the rice was the perfect binder.

While she was busy devouring her food, Remy was taking that time to lock in on her joyful face. If this was going to be the last time he saw her, he was going to make it count. But his day dreaming was interrupted by the transponder on the table suddenly jumping to life. As fast as she could, she set down her spoon, wiped her face, and grabbed the item.

“Wolverine,” she began, “listen, I got the necklace. Ready when you are on the extraction.”

Her eyes drifted over to the man in front of her who was trying very hard not to eavesdrop on the conversation happening two feet away from him. The long she listened to Wolverine talk, and watched Remy’s face, the more her heart moaned in pain. It was an unusual feeling to have, especially for someone that she swore she did not get along with or that she had not known for too long.

“Kid, we’ll be there in a couple hours, okay? We’re gonna track you by your communicator and then we’ll-”

“Actually, Wolvie,” she cut the man off, “I think I’m gonna stick around New Orleans for a few days. Just to make sure that nobody comes looking for this thing. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come home.”

The transponder was shut off fast, and tucked into one of the pockets of her uniform. When she looked up again, the startled face of Gambit greeted her. His eyes were wider than the bowls they were eating out of, but she paid it no mind. Picking up her spoon again, she sent a teasing smirk across the table.

“Hope you don’t mind that I’ll be sticking around a little more.” She brought another spoonful of gumbo to her mouth while Gambit took a minute to recover.

“Not at all, chere. Not at all.”

[yellow-computer-mouse]

i just spilled our entire fucking guts to our friends. two of them. and i'm so fucking glad i did.

big angry vent under the cut

we sit with a whole big friend group at lunch. it's:

us

R

D

G

N

K

about a week, maybe week-and-a-half ago, R, D, and G left. we didn't know where they went. it was just us, N, and K. we thought maybe they were doing catch-up, or eating with a teacher, or doing club stuff.

yesterday, we found out that they were sitting with a different friend group. this consists of:

A (also our friend, she's great)

E (SHE'S FUCKING RACIST????? 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕)

O (G has a crush on her)

now, we've been friends with them for ages. they are our closest friends. we'd trust them with our fucking life.

they didn't tell us.

they never bothered to tell us.

N and K were kind of othered by them. K's too much or whatever. talks too loud. is too enthusiastic. doesn't read the room. you know. BEING THEMSELF.

N just.. never really meshed. i think. i dunno.

R, D, and G left a bit after N and K started sitting down. about 2 days after N came down with us.

In those two days, we had brought up a lot of stuff casually. not directly at R, D, or G, but it wasn't like we were hiding it. we talked about our plurality especially (kind of, using plural terms and saying stuff like "grant likes this, jim does this, no way daisuke just left," etc)

we had finally started to let our walls down. we're very guarded, because we're anxious. some stuff happened with R about 2 years ago, and we've been really worried about being "too much" or inconsiderate and scaring them away. we were letting our walls down and opening up.

and they left.

and they NEVER FUCKING TOLD ME.

we started this fucking friend group. we befriended R in 4th-6th grade. (i considered her a friend in 4th, but she didn't until 6th- whatever, not the point, that's fine /gen) we brought D into it in 6th. WE STARTED A GRADE-WIDE GAME.

i brought N in during 6th.

7th, G.

8th, K.

I BUILT THIS FUCKING FRIEND GROUP FRM THE GROUND UP.

AND THEY FUCKING LEFT.

[plain text: AND THEY FUCKING LEFT.]

AND THEY DIDN'T FUCKING TELL ME.

[plain text: AND THEY DIDN'T FUCKING TELL ME.]

they're their own people. they're allowed to have other friends. they're allowed to not want to sit with me anymore. hell, they're allowed to not want to be friends anymore!! it would SUCK, but it would be better to know for sure.

all i want is them to TELL ME. they don't tell me a lot of stuff. 2 years ago, i had to make a rule that we don't keep secrets, because they just. didn't. TELL ME.

about a month ago, i was talking about something and getting upset. and R started BABY-TALKING ME. and she does this a lot!!! and like, there's a thin line between calm voice and babytalk. and that's fine! so i told her, and i told her it was bothering me, and she deflected "oohhh, i'm imitating one of our teachers" NO YOU'RE NOT????? NO YOU FUCKING WEREN'T

and it's fine!!! we told her a thousand times that we weren't mad, we just wanted to let her know because it was bothering us.

and it just. UGHH. i dunno. this long-ass rant means:

as soon as we started opening up and letting down our walls, they left. and they didn't tell us. and that makes us think it's something WE DID.

and we were talking about this at lunch with N and K. and we brought up- no, STRAIGHT-UP TOLD THEM ABOUT:

alterhumanity

our plurality

age regression

we had never brought this up before. and they were so great about it. N and K, i'm gonna tag you in this post. y'all mean the world to me. <3 <3 <3 <3

R, D, G? i dunno. not tagging you guys. if you guys see this, listen:

I am not mad. No matter how this reads, I am not mad. I'm hurt. I'm so fucking hurt that you just left. And you didn't tell me. If you don't want to be friends, say so. If you do? SAY SO. TELL ME THINGS. I'm the same age as you. Do you have a problem with N or K? Do you have a problem with me? I DUNNO! BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T TELL ME!!

I'm not mad. I just want to know why you left, and why you didn't tell me. I still want to be friends. You guys are my closest friends!!!

that's all. vent over.

Sincerely, Dust. Your resident anger holder.

[sunshinehunter]

After looking at armor sets from D2 Y1 all the way to now it really

some people who design armor sets really understand how the Shape Language of the classes work and can exaggerate or tweak them in ways while still being On Model if you will.

And some people have no idea wtf is going on and they just make 3 armor sets that fit a theme but break the Shape Language.

Eververse event or crossover ornaments are except from being On Model for the most part because they need to Look Like The Thing they're referencing. Raid armor is also mostly exempt bc raid armor gets... weird.

Titans have the most consistent Shape Language across the years. There are very few 'wtf were they thinking??' moments looking at their armor. When I do see inconsistencies it's done so in a way where the person who made the armor actually like... considered why. It was purposeful (or are event armor). Like Big Shoulder Pads and heavy leg armor is a Titan Thing and its consistent across all their armor. They also have a very distinct helmet Shape Language that idk how many people pick up on but it is CRAZY how many Titan helms are just the exact same helm with some bits added to it.

Warlocks have the most variance of their main armor piece; the robe. Mostly because 1. you can't see their pants most of the time and 2. their arm armor is literally just their lower arms so variation is quite small. They have a few Robe Families that are drawn from repeatedly; open robe around the leg, open robe with a drape in the middle (this one was very popular during the WQ year), fully open jacket. They also have very distinct helmet shapes much like Titans except Warlocks have two. They have the one where it's like a flat plate in the front and then a fin along the top back edge. Very iconic shapes for Warlocks.

This post mainly started out to complain about Hunter helmets and cloaks then I got to appreciating Titan and Warlocks having some On Point Shape Language. So I'm gonna complain about Hunter Stuff as a Shitty Hunter Main

Mostly its in that they're giving Hunter helmets eyes now. A LOT more Hunter helmets have false eyes now where as in the first 6-7 years of D2 there were NO eyes. We had goggles or approximation of goggles or like ski-mask looking things. But now there are straight up just weird eyes on Hunter helmets. Goggles/ski masks/gas masks are part of the Unifying Shape Language for Hunter helmets along with just like Nothingness (cloth over the face, a featureless dome, etc) and have been since D1. So seeing EYES on helmets is fucking weird.

Also Hunter Shape Language has a hood and a cape but I don't think most armor designers... know what to do with it to make it unique. We have a LOT of hoods which are all kinda similar where they just... kinda put a thing on it. Solar cloak, every Solstice of Heroes cloak, whatever the fuck is going on in the Season of Wish cloak. Sometimes the add ons make sense and look good and sometimes... bro what are you doing??? They're doing it more in modern seasons, older seasons don't have this issue. And it just... breaks the Shape Language of what Hunters are. They're supposed to be forward scouts, living in the woods and shit. Do you know how many branches I'd bash my head into wearing this fucking thing???

[kylermalloy]

I wondered what you would have thought of a scene where Marcel drinks from Klaus by the neck while the rest of the family is forced to watch. Compelled, after he's turned into the greatest vamp

Hmm. Hmmm. I like this idea very much! Definitely something Marcel would do—because while he thinks himself fairer and more moderate than the Mikaelsons (and he is, in some regards) he can still go on a biiiit of a power trip. I’ll still never be over Vincent’s little speech at the end of season 3—“the king is dead, all hail the king.” He lumps Marcel in with the Mikaelsons, citing the destruction of the Strix as evidence that Marcel also goes too far. Marcel also promotes needless bloodshed. And Marcel, unlike Klaus and Rebekah and the others, denies that part of himself. He wants to think he’s better than that. Above all that. (He’s not.)

So yes! I think Marcel would do that to Klaus—as a show of his power, and to psychologically torment the rest of his family. See what I can do to your brother. See how you’re powerless to stop me. See how, really, he deserves it.

[daughter-of-sapph0]

who had "jkr goes full nazi" on their 2024 bingo cards?

[egophiliac]

still absolutely losing my mind over Lilia

[corntired]

Fanfiction is so goated actually

No monetary incentive, just writing in one's free time. Some incentive for like kudos and comments, because who doesn't want to hear that someone else enjoyed what they wrote. Just writing a story that is good and/or enjoyable, no real-life pressure to keep it going because god forbid you and other people are depending on it financially.

Writing a story because you want to write a good story, so you can write what they want the way you want, at a pace that is realistic for you, with exactly the plot pacing you want there to be.