#i haven't really seen anyone talking about this and it was bothering me

[heycrymeariver]

five and many more: a timeline summary

(For legal reasons, all of this is alleged.)

Ref. links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

1984, is the first time Neil Gaiman released a book. 

In 1985, he got married and started his career as a comic book writer and in 1986, he assaulted Julia Hobsbawm.

This took place in Chalk Farm, London, where he forcibly kissed her and shoved her down on the sofa at her own studio flat before she escaped. According to The Crown Prosecution Service, “sexual assault is where one person intentionally touches another person sexually without their consent. The touching can be done with any part of the body or with an object.” In her own words, she described it as “an aggressive, unwanted pass” and that she still remembers it even now. 

Through 1987 and 2002 he progressed his career and published the famous book Coraline. A new year happens and he is in his early-forties and is thriving off of the success of his several money-making works, at a book signing event in Sarasota, Florida. There he hits it off with a young 18 year old (K) and they start dating. Two years later, in 2005, with two more awards under his belt, he forcibly penetrated that young twenty year old who told him not to because of a painful infection.

After another two years, he and his first wife divorced.

It's 2012, five years later and one year into a new marriage and at another book signing, Neil, age 52, immediately assaulted Claire (pseudonym) with a non-consensual kiss. Throughout keeping contact Neil had escalated this with video and phone calls that had a heavy sexual connotation where he appeared to either be naked or tried to instigate something. All of this accumulated into sexually assaulting her on a tour bus. Neil’s contact with her lasted until 2014 where he had promptly accused her in a text message that she had used him for sex.

Within the same year, Neil had enough money to buy a property, and met Caroline Wallner, 55, and her at-the time current husband. With a deal to do odd jobs for Neil and his wife to live there until she could own a five-acre plot, it wasn’t long before things turned sour. A divorce in 2017 sent everything spiraling, with her former husband fired, she in a once financially stable position, was now completely dependent on Neil Gaiman who used that to his advantage. Using her lack of financial stability to get himself sexual favors, he coerced her into a sexual-only, notably uninformed BDSM-entering territory while she was emotionally vulnerable, not accepting denials. This lasted until the summer of 2021, and in December of that year she and him went to court, what awaited her was $275k of compensation and a non-disclosure agreement (nda).

It wouldn’t take long for another woman to experience Neil Gaiman’s repeated offenses as well because in February of 2022, Scarlett (a pseudonym), age 23, a newly hired nanny, was sexually assaulted in the bathtub at his house. Neil, age 61, climbed into the bathtub with her and coerced her into having sexual relations. He too, in his coercion of her, made her financially dependent on him and brought BDSM elements to an inexperienced young woman who could not say no.

Since July 3rd of this year, 2024, five women have come out with sexual assault allegations aimed at Neil Gaiman. They all have several things in common with each other: either being young and naive, a fan of his, or put in a vulnerable spot financially or emotionally. Throughout the years and according to the stories, Neil progressively gets more bold and aggressive in his attempts for sexual gain. There are many more stories out there and whispers on the internet of how predatory Neil Gaiman has been in the industry. However, focusing on the five women who came out to speak and pushing their voice is an important part of the discussion.

Staying silent will only protect his peace.

(If you want to help keep this topic alive, please check out this post by @taraljc to see what steps you can take.)

[thelilylav]

Hmmm... very interesting to me that Taylor Swift is trending rn and yet for some reason no one in that tag is complaining that her trending is taking away from what's going on in Palestine and what's happening in Rafah. And yet for some reason, people couldn't seem to shut up in the Kendrick Lamar tag when he was trending about how the whole beef was just two celebrities beef (it's much deeper than that) and were making up theories abt how the whole thing was taking attention away from Palestine and everyone talking about it should feel ashamed of themselves (every single account I saw in that tag was posting about Palestine too).

And the thing that's really getting me is that Taylor is trending bc of a change to the Eras tour. An objectively unimportant change to make, especially when compared to what's going on in Rafah. But that's not what gets hate, no, it's the predator getting called out in an industry known for exploitation by one of the biggest artists in said industry. The racism isn't even implicit atp...

Edit: ok so just to clarify no this wasn't meant to insinuate that Taylor trending was some setup of Israel (that's just... like objectively wrong lmao), it was to point out that when it comes to a black artist in hip hop (a predominantly non-white genre) people wouldn't let fans of said genre just enjoy the music and shenanigans happening in that genre and that's it's hypocritical to act like people can't care abt two things at once, but they can enjoy their white "feminist icon" pop star (a much whiter genre) without anyone bringing hate into that tag. like i put in the tags, the anti taylor tag is for filtering bc i honestly don't see this post as particularly negative for taylor swift, it's a critique of the fans. and i'm calling out swifties particularly bc the ones who were saying that the beef was manufactured to take eyes off of rafah were swifties, and the ones being racist in the kendrick tag were swifties. i'm not exaggerating like almost every hate post i saw mentioning the beef being manufactured was a swiftie account. it is weird to act like people caring about very serious allegations happening in a genre of music isn't reason enough to make a big deal of the situation and go INTO THE TAG and complain, but it is especially hypocritical and frankly quite infuriating to see the same people who complained about a big deal of a situation being a "distraction" from gaza and then blog abt taylor swift . it's fine if u want to blog abt music u like, honestly idc abt that, if that's all u do then this legit isn't targeted at u, this is targeted at the swifties who came into the kendrick tag to complain and then went back to talking abt swift two seconds later like they weren't doing the same thing they were complaining abt two minutes before. (sry for the long explanation, but i just don't want ppl taking my words out of context and i rlly tried to word this all clearly, but idk man sometimes u think u word something well and then nobody undrestands wtf u were on abt so i wanted to make sure it was clear) also, if you're a zionist or israel supporter, i will be blocking u if u interact with this post. ok ty bye bye

[babacontainsmultitudes]

[just venting a bit into the void you understand you understand 😌] Lately I've been feeling very caught between "I have a lot of thoughts on Sparrow and Normal and all that with the ending and teen talk and feel like I need to get them out and voice them for my own piece of mind and resolution" and "I am lacking the strength and energy to actually sit down and write it all out and kind of really just want to fully move on to other things (AUs, fics, anything else)" but my brain can't seem to commit to either and that's quite frustrating cause it's just left me very restless. *Sigh*. Idk! Just needed to complain about that a bit ig, it's silly but this is what has been ailing me as of late.

[moogiewara]

.

[dreameralive]

i think one of the most noteworthy things about Blaise that i haven't really seen anyone discuss is his tendency to liken others to children, his weaponization of it, its relation to him being a child abuser, and its relation to his defeat.

one of his first lines of dialogue, before he even introduces himself, is him humiliating Franziska by calling her 'little von Karma', and then bringing up something retroactively embarrassing she did as a little girl.

he frames this as genuine nostalgia, but to me, it's pretty clear this was a purposeful, and almost sadistic, powerplay.

there's also these lines. these aren't too strange, out of context - "let's all play nice" is a relatively common phrase, and in the second screenshot where he's discussing Kay and Edgeworth's friendship, they are literally youths (well, compared to him). but in context, it's clear that this is part of him attempting to assert his dominance over everyone else.

he wants to let everyone know that he is the adult here, and all they are is children - and thereby, they are completely powerless to his end-all authority, so they shouldn't even bother attempting to resist. this is further emphasized during his logic chess segment.

he calls Edgeworth 'my boy', he reminds him that he is his 'senior in life', he tells him he's being naïve. he threatens to never give back his prosecutors badge if he doesn't stop trying to question his authority. he asks him, mockingly, if he's scared. then, while grinning, he tells him that there is nothing he can do, and he should give up already.

he once again, more blatantly this time, is attempting to force someone else into accepting that they are the weaker party and that he could do anything he pleased to them, and once again, he is weaponizing the societal power imbalance between a child and an adult to do so.

i could go on and on for a while with more examples of this, but then that would make this post really long and rambly. so, instead, i'm going to discuss what his behavior ultimately results in.

this is probably one of the most disturbing interactions in Ace Attorney.

he does this purely so Sebastian will feel humiliated and ashamed in front of his colleagues, people he respects and who in turn are supposed to respect him. he does this to remind Sebastian that he is his father, and Sebastian is his child. to Blaise, that means he has complete control over him. and until this point? he actually does.

he has controlled every aspect of Sebastian's life to be exactly how he wants it. his path in life, his school, his tests - even Sebastian's constant usage of his surname serves as a reminder that Sebastian's only purpose to his father is to be an extension of him, a tool to feed into his ego. an object. something he owns.

note how, in their sprites, Sebastian is typically tilting his head slightly downwards, and in his crying sprites, he's leaning down. meanwhile Blaise stands high, and in his grinning sprites, his head is tilted up, as to literally look down on the person he's talking to.

but in the end, right before Blaise is convicted, right as Blaise tells him he should just remain his idiot son, Sebastian is looking up as he tells him goodbye. a way of saying that he's not beneath him, and he won't let him act like it anymore.

Blaise is immediately infuriated by this, and says all you've ever been able to do is depend on me. he screams Sebastian's name in anger - but it's cut off.

in fact, there is no more dialogue from Blaise after this. because he has no more authority, no more ability to scare Sebastian or anyone else into submission. in the end, Sebastian has finally taken back his autonomy that Blaise has robbed him of. so has Kay. so has Simon. all of them are children he has mistreated, threatened, and jerked around for his own selfish gain, but ultimately, they all still have more power over their own lives than he ever will again.

there's a lot more i could say on this, but these are all my thoughts i could organize. thanks for reading.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So this is a weird ask but I figured an Actual Welsh Person would be the person to go to, and you've been pretty gung-ho about the language thing. So I hope I'm not bothering you with this.

Is there a cultural consensus on foreigners learning Welsh? I'm American and I don't have a single shred of Welsh ancestry. My family is historically German, and we've been here since the English Colony days, so it honestly seems really weird even to try to claim some tie to German heritage.

Anyway, my point is, I have absolutely zero legitimate claim to the Welsh language. I don't plan to travel to Wales in the foreseeable future. I have no reason to learn Welsh except that it sounds pretty and I enjoy a challenge.

Putting aside the issue of "lmao it's gonna be stupid difficult to learn an endangered language if you don't have anyone to speak it with" (I have a loose plan for dealing with that, and the experience of learning two languages to "can read most novels without needing the dictionary" level without anyone to speak them with in person already) entirely, do you reckon it's okay for me to study Welsh? I know Americans are really, really bad about just kinda assuming the whole world belongs to us, and I'm trying not to do that here. Especially because Welsh IS endangered.

I imagine your average Welsh person probably doesn't care what some random American does. But like, for people who care about the language...Would it be considered disrespectful or overstepping for me to study it? I don't expect you to speak for the entire country, of course, but I respect your opinion and I feel like you'd have a grasp on what the general feeling towards a foreigner like me might be.

Thanks for your time.

I honestly, truly, do not understand how the discussion around cultural appropriation has been twisted in the cultural zeitgeist to such an extent that people now feel anxiety about learning other languages.

This is not a personal attack on you, Anon - the gods only know that you clearly care and want to do the right thing, and that's beautiful and wonderful and also I will come back to extolling your personal virtues at the end of this post, so stay tuned. But I do want to take a moment here to talk about the broader issue at play, which I have seen echoed multiple times elsewhere, because fuck me what are we doing to ourselves.

Learn. Languages.

That is what languages are for! To be used for communication. If you don't learn languages, you are forcing everyone else to use yours. How have we somehow, as a culture, twisted that into being the less selfish option? How have we done that? I posted my favourite Welsh idiom recently, and someone reblogged it and wrote in the tags that they loved the idiom and would start using it, but they would do so in English because their "Welsh pronunciation would make their Welsh grandmother spin in her grave."

What kind of mental gymnastics is that?

How the fuck do you twist it so badly that you think taking a Welsh idiom for your own and exclusively using it in English is less offensive than saying it in Welsh but maybe a bit wrong? I've literally had people proclaim to me that they're learning Welsh on Duolingo but they never speak it because they're too self-conscious, and they tell me this not to highlight a massive flaw in themselves that they need to work on, but as though I'm supposed to pat them on the head and thank them for... still making me speak English to them.

There was that post where a Deaf blogger received an anonymous ask saying learning sign language is cultural appropriation, as though Deaf people haven't been calling for Sign to be taught in schools. As though a Deaf person being entirely isolated in everyday hearing society unless they have an interpreter with them is less offensive than a hearing person being able to use BSL.

Like, these are not sacred or religious languages. The purpose of Welsh or BSL or what have you is not to perform the Eleusinian mysteries. It's a living everyday language, same as English -

Except it's not the same as English. As Anon here so rightly points out, Welsh is endangered. That means we are desperate for people to learn it. That's how it will survive. That's how we reversed it from 'dying language' to 'living language', in fact - we managed to get lots of people to learn it. You know what is a threat, though? People not learning it because, like poor Anon here, they've been somehow convinced by Western society that you're only allowed to learn languages if you personally have a historic or cultural connection to them that you can prove via six forms of ID and a letter of recommendation from a druid. Or people never using it because they're too embarrassed to try and risk losing face by getting it wrong, or maybe sounding a bit silly, and thus forcing us to use English anyway. Those are threats.

Anon. Listen to me, feel the sincerity of my words: we adore you. We adore you. You cannot imagine how appreciated it is when someone learns Welsh. You cannot imagine how touched we are that you wanted to, that you tried, that you respected us enough and considered us valid enough that you made the effort. Our closest neighbours are the very people who are still trying to stamp out Welsh to this very day. Do you know the number 1 reaction I get, by a country mile, when I tell English people that I speak Welsh? It's some variant on a scoff, and the sentiment "Why? What's the point? Bit useless, isn't it?"

By a country mile. That's the reaction I expect, and brace for, and is overwhelmingly what I get.

So when someone who isn't Welsh actually chooses to learn Welsh?

Imagine what that feels like! To go from not-even-hidden disgust, from outright mockery and often active suppression campaigns, to a foreigner earnestly telling me that they love and respect my language so much they're trying to learn it. Imagine how that feels.

Please learn Welsh. Please learn it. We will love you for it. We will build you a statue. We will bake little Welshcakes with your face on in icing sugar. We will write you poems in complex rhyme. We'll name an Eisteddfod prize after you. We'll name at least, like, three sheep after you. Thank you, thank you so much for even wanting to learn. You're a delight and a marvel and a wonder. Your hair looks great today, as it does all days. You're a strong, independent human being of immense wisdom and compassion. If this were a Welsh myth you'd be a wise salmon the heroes came to for advice. What a fantastic human.

The welcome awaits if you choose to learn

[kat651]

touch starved (Bucky x reader)

warnings: none, pure fluff.

word count: 1473

Everyone lives au

Bucky had been dating you for almost a year now and he hasn't given you much physical contact except for the occasional holding of hands. Even his kisses, though sweet, were always short but passionate. You hadn't pushed it, figuring he just wasn't big on physical touch. Which was hard for you since touch was something you loved. You got your hugs and snuggles elsewhere though. Thor, and Steve didn't mind prolonged hugs. Thor was huge on touch, and always knew when you needed a hug. And Nat was your go to for cuddles. You'd cuddle Thor if both you and him were single but you weren't and it would be weird for you to do so, also it wouldn't be the most appropriate thing either. And Morgan! Morgan saw you as a big sister, she loved to watch movies with you while snuggling up in your lap. 

At first Tony would tell Morgan to leave you be, but you immediately told Tony that you didn't mind at all. Morgan was a little snuggle bug, which you needed. 

Bucky sat on the couch, watching tv, well he had it on but he didn't really care for the film he was just wondering how on earth to tell you that he was craving touch. He had been since he got his mind back, but why would anyone want to snuggle up to an x assassin/ murderer?

“Something bothering you Buck?” Steve asked, sitting down on the couch.

Bucky sighed, “i- i just… i don't know how to tell y/n that i…” bucky looked away. “Nevermind it's dumb.”

“Bucky what is it?” 

Bucky sighed. “I… I feel empty…”

“Empty?” Dr. Strange asked, sitting. “Empty how?”

Bucky sighed, he knew that Strange was the one person he couldn't argue with. “I…it's rather personal…”

Dr. Strange used his magic to make his lips zip closed. Bucky sighed but knew he'd have to speak eventually… “I don't know, I guess I just feel almost… cold inside… like a warmth is missing…" Bucky paused. “I don't know why i feel this way, y/n has never made me feel like she doesnt care i just…” 

Bucky paused as you walked in with Morgan on your shoulders. “Have you guys seen Tony?” you asked. 

“He’s in the lab with Bruce.” Steve said. 

“Ok. thanks Steve.” you said turning and walking back out.

“I want that…” bucky said, pointing to where you had been moments earlier. 

“You want to ride around on y/n’s shoulders? Buck no offense but I think you'd break her back, you're too big." Steve said.

Bucky growled. “No, I want her to.. To…” bucky mumbled the rest of his sentence under his breath. 

“What?”

Bucky sighed. “I want her touch… you know, her to curl up against my side like Morgan does with y/n… i… i don't know why, i don't-”

“It sounds like your touch starved…” Strange said. “When's the last time you've hugged someone for longer than ten seconds? 

“1945.” Bucky said without even having to think. “I haven't danced since then either…”

Strange frowned. “Yeah, if you want that empty and cold feeling to go away you're gonna need to let her hold you.” he said before standing and walking off. “Wong's calling. I have to take this…”

Bucky frowned. “What so I'm just supposed to go up to her and say ‘hold me’ like I'm some baby. No thanks…”

“What are we talking about?” nat asked, plopping down on the couch. 

“Buck's too scared to tell y/n he needs a hug.” Steve teased.

Bucky punched Steve, “I will kill you.”

Nat chuckled. “Then don't tell her, just randomly come up behind her and hug her. Don't tell anyone but that's what Bruce does every morning. If he doesn't randomly hug me I know he's angry about something…”

Bucky thought about this as Nat and Steve got a call for a mission. 

“Tonight’s movie night, you can snuggle up to her for over an hour!” Steve shouted as he ran out of the room behind nat. 

Bucky smiled and stood before heading to Bruce’s lab. He decided he was going to try the surprise hug from behind thing on you.

When he arrived in the lab you were braiding Morgan's hair as she sat in a chair. Bucky smiled, Pepper had asked you to watch her one time during the blip and now wherever you went Morgan was almost always following you. If she wasnt that was probably because she was with her ‘big brother’ peter. Bucky also knew that Morgan was a little shy around him. Which didn’t surprise him, Bucky was tall, quiet, and muscular and his arm was made completely of metal. 

Bucky waited for Morgan to go over to Tony before wrapping you in a surprise hug. 

You shook your head. “Thor, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?’ you turned and a smile spread across your face. “Oh hey bucky…” you pressed a kiss on Bucky's cheek. “Hi…” you whispered, leaning back so you were even closer to him. “What did you do?”

“What?” 

“Bucky you only hug me after you've done something you regret. What did you do?”

Bucky turned you around so you were facing him. “I honestly just wanted a hug this time…ok?”

You let your head fall on Bucky's shoulder. “Ok…”

Morgan ran back over and paused, she wasn't sure what to do. She would never tell anyone but Bucky Barnes scared her. 

Bucky gave Morgan a smile before pressing another kiss on your temple. “Love you…” he whispered before walking off. 

.-.-.

When movie night rolled around, Bucky grabbed his sweater and threw it on before heading into the main room where everyone sat together for the movie. Bucky then realized that everyone had their ‘spot’ ; this was the first time that Bucky had decided to join the movie night; he normally just used this time to have the training room all to himself. Heck, even Fury was there. 

Bucky then realized there was only one empty spot, the one right next to you. He smiled and went to sit when Morgan ran up and jumped into the empty spot. Bucky frowned. So there wasn't an empty spot for him after all.

“Bucky, come on, sit!” He looked over and saw that there was another empty spot, next to Sharon. 

“Actually, Bucky is going to sit with his girlfriend,” Nat said, getting up from her spot on Morgan's other side and going over to the empty space next to sharon. 

Sharon scowled as nat sat down next to her. “Really?” 

“What? y/n is Bucky's girlfriend.” nat said, settling down and getting comfortable. Sharon left and didn't return. Bruce pointed to Sharon's empty spot and whispered something to Steve and Sam before walking over and sitting next to Nat. 

You scooted over so he could sit. Bucky sat and slipped an arm around you while Morgan curled up with a blanket. You were surprised by Bucky's sudden hunger for touch but you weren't complaining you wanted this. You nuzzled closer and Bucky pulled you into his lap before motioning for Morgan to get in your lap. 

Tony and Pepper walked in and raised a brow. “Morgan, why don't you sit with Peter tonight?” Tony offered. 

Morgan looked up at you and you nodded. “Go on…”

“Wait, I got an idea.” Peter walked over and sat in the now empty spot on the couch and Morgan sat on his lap. “Mj isn't here tonight…”

Morgan smiled, she was a very happy five year old girl. 

Tony shook his head and sat down, opening his arms so Pepper could snuggle into his embrace. 

Once the movie started, Bucky began to feel a warm feeling in his chest as you nuzzled closer to him. “I love you, bucky…” you whispered in his ear. Bucky smiled and put his other arm around you, this was exactly what he needed, your embrace and love to fill his tired and slightly shattered heart.  

By the time the movie was half way through, Bucky had fallen asleep within his head on top of yours, making you smile. Who were you to wake him? When the movie ended, you did end up waking a very groggy bucky and pulling him to his room. You covered him with his blanket and turned to leave when Bucky grabbed your hand and held open the blanket, beckoning you to sleep in his arms.

A smile spread across your face and you slipped into the bed. “Bucky?”

“Hmmm?” he hummed, already half asleep. 

“I like this new cuddly version of you…”

Bucky smiled. “Me too…” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss on your cheek before drifting off as he held you close.

[st6rrrs]

TRAITOR || rafe cameron x fem reader

summary: the pogues find out yn's secret

warnings: cursing, arguing, soft rafe!!!, fluff?

a/n: idk if i should keep this into to a one shot or make a story!!!!

Part 2

˗ˋ ��୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

you and rafe were in his bed talking when you realized what time it was, 5:29pm

"Shit rafe i gotta go" you said

you jumped off of the bed and quickly put your clothes on

"where are you going?" he asked getting off the bed also

"i gotta go to the chateau to meet up with the pogues"

he groaned.

you grab your backpack and head to the door but before you could open it rafe got in front of you.

"do you have to leave" rafe whines

"yes rafe, i'll be back in a couple of hours" you say

"fine" he groans again but louder this time, he walks back to the bed laying on it getting his phone out, you roll your eyes and exit the room.

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗

you get on your bike and start pedaling towards the cut.

you and rafe have been dating for a couple of months now but you guys haven't told anyone yet. if the pogues find out that you and rafe have been dating they would be PISSED

thats one of the reasons you dont wanna go public, rafe honestly doesn't give a shit if anyone finds out because he will still love you and you would still love him.

you arrive at the chateau and you see the pogues on the front porch, Sarah was sitting next to john b? why was Sarah here?

kie disliked Sarah for as long as you can remember. When kie and Sarah were friends Sarah threw this party without inviting kie and kie got mad and called the cops.

"you know we were all extremely comfortable until you brought her."

you hear kie say as you approach them

"stop talking about me like im not here" Sarah says

"then leave."

"umm whats happening?" you mouth to pope and jj passing kie, Sarah, and john b them to busy arguing to notice you. You walk over to sit in between jj and pope.

"john b is banging Sarah" jj says while laughing

"WHAT" you almost yell

"oh look y/n is here, why dont we ask her opinion is on this" kie says

"please don't" you whine "but if im being honest i dont think its a good idea"

Sarah's scoffs

"oh you can talk" she says looking at you

"what?" you laugh

"like you aren't fucking my brother" she says rolling her eyes and looking away

you immediately go pale.

"is that true y/n?" kie ask you in disbelief

you don't answer her

jj gets up from beside you and just looks at you in disbelief. you look over at pope his hand on his forehead and he's shaking his head disappointed.

"you cant be fucking serious!" jj yells at you "he beat up pope with a golf club and then jumped us with topper and kelce"

jj has had a crush on you ever since you guys were 14 but you didn't feel the same way. Everyone always shipped you guys together but you wouldn't force yourself to date someone you didn't like You only liked jj as a friend but he never really listened to you.

"i-i-im sorry!! but he's different with me" you try to explain to them

"hes just gonna use you like he does every other girl on this island" Sarah says

"no he-" but before you could finish your sentence pope interrupted you

"just leave y/n." he said annoyed not looking at you

"g-guys please!"

"JUST FUCKING LEAVE JEEZ!" jj yells at you, you have never seen him this angry in the whole 7 years you knew him.

tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked at him. He had no remorse for what he said he was very angry and you could understand why but none of them even gave you a chance to explain yourself. You quickly grabbed your bag pack and left without looking back.

"AND DONT BOTHER COMING BACK EITHER! HAVE FUN WITH YOUR KOOKY BOYFRIEND" jj yelled before you could leave

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ' -

you open the front door to the camerons household, rafe gave you the key when you guys started dating. the house was so quite and cold, you walk up the stairs to rafe room still sobbing.

you open his room door and hes sleep on his bed, it was sometime pass 7 you didn't want to wake him and you were exhausted yourself so you just laid next to him and got under the covers still sobbing quietly. you couldn't believe that jj would ever say that too you, it wasn't like him

you hear rafe groan awake

"y/n is that you" he says in his sleepy voice

"yea"

"are you crying?"

"im fine go back to sleep rafe."

"no.,whats wrong come here" he gestured so you could lay on his chest

you gave in and sobbed in his chest for a while until you fell asleep.

part 2?

this might be bad but i tried 😪 👍🏻

taglist:

@bbsxsaa @xxbutdaddyilovehimxx @drewstarkeyslut @stvrkey. @blondbrat @sevenwivesofrafecameron @tracymbcm

[crownmemes]

Concerned Sentences, Vol. 8

(Concerned sentences from various sources. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I don't think you can go back to the way it was before."

"You look like you could use some company?"

"Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"I still think this is deeply irresponsible - and believe me, I would know!"

"Maybe you should tell me what's bothering you?"

"Research shows that it's easier to open up when relaxed. It allows you to talk about what's really bothering you."

"If I know you at all, this isn't the only reason you're here."

"You're acting like you've lost your mind!"

"I think you've had enough to drink."

"You've forgotten what it's like to feel emotions!"

"I've never seen much good come from looking to the past."

"Sometimes an emotional injury doesn't show itself right away."

"This may be something of an understatement, but you are not doing well."

"What secrets are darkening your brow?"

"Grief can drive people to extraordinary lengths."

"You're self-medicating with homemade drugs?"

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

"You do look stressed! Would you like some ginger tea? Or maybe just some gin?"

"If there's one thing I've learnt, it's you can't run away from your own life."

"Don't torture yourself with hypotheticals."

"I know this is serious, but you can still smile. You're allowed to enjoy things."

"I know you want to help me, but I don't think you can this time."

"You've always blamed yourself for things that weren't your fault."

"You can keep on telling yourself that you're fine, but you're not fine!"

"Don't worry about me. I don't want it, I don't need it. Just don't do it."

"If you keep going down this path, something really bad is going to happen."

"I know I don't know you well enough to say this, but you haven't seemed yourself lately."

"You haven't left the house in over a week! You can't just stay inside watching old movies all the time!"

"Does anyone know how sick you are?"

"I have experience with this - this sort of pain - and you can't escape it by building walls around your heart."

"You seem uncomfortable."

"When was the last time that you had a hug?"

[blackbirdi]

One-Sided pt. II

If you haven't read the first part already, the link to part 1 is here

I'm so sorry this took so long, guys, I was struggling with ideas. Anyways, enjoy :)

Brief Description: Sirius begins to notice how suddenly you're around him a lot less than usual. What could he have done to make you want to avoid him at all costs? And why does your avoidance hurt him this much?

Point of View: 3rd Person

Word Count: 2181

Character: Sirius Black x Reader

House: Gryffindor

Year: Sixth Year

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Sirius has talked to Y/n last, and it's driving him up the wall. The only other time where he doesn't talk to her for that long is during the summer, but at least they owl back and forth non-stop, and now suddenly he hasn't heard her sweet voice in two damn weeks.

And it's not as though he hasn't tried to talk to her. Hell, he's been going out of his way to run into her just to ask what was up with her, but every time she sees him, she runs away. And now she's changed the time of her daily activities (going to the library to read/study, walk in the courtyard, visit Hagrid, etc.) – not that he knew the times she was going by heart before she changed them – so now he can't even run into her then.

Two weeks. Two damn weeks. And he's not going any longer without her.

It was Saturday and the Marauders were all hanging out in their dormitory, and Sirius was itching to find Y/n and beg ask her to forgive him for whatever he must have done to have her ignore him like this.

"Remus," Sirius calls, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" Remus hums, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading, which only caused Sirius to grow more frustrated.

He closes his eyes before he snaps at Remus, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The only thing that does is cause his eyes to well up with tears. 

Godric, what was up with him? Was Y/n really causing him to get this upset?

When he speaks next, his voice breaks, which causes all the other Marauders to lift their heads and look at Sirius with concern.

"Why won't Y/n talk to me?"

The other three Marauders share a few glances at one another before looking back at Sirius. The pity in their eyes as they look at him causes Sirius to grow frustrated once again.

His eyes, which were previously filled with tears, harden as he wipes them away. His lips pull back into a thin line as he glares down at his own hands.

"She keeps avoiding me! I haven't said anything to her in weeks!" he cries angrily. "And even when I do say something to her, she just ignores me and runs off! Did I do something to make her mad at me?"

"I'm sure you didn't do anything, Padfoot," James tries to comfort him. "Maybe Y/n just needs space for a while."

"Space from what?" Sirius snaps. "What did I do that would've wanted her to space herself from me? And only me! I haven't seen her ignoring you three, or anyone else for that matter! What did I do!?"

“Pads –” Remus starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Why do you care so much anyway?” James asks. “It’s just Y/n.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter all shoot James a glare, all three of them knowing that was not the right thing to ask.

“Yeah, Y/n, my friend,” Sirius sneers. “I care because Y/n is one of my closest friends and now suddenly she’s ignoring me! Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Because it does, a lot.”

“We know, Padfoot,” Peter replies, trying to make his voice sound comforting, although to Sirius it sounded more like pity. “I think James was trying to ask why you’re so … no quiet over dramatic about it … but more upset than you normally would be about something like this.”

“Yeah,” James agrees. “That’s exactly what I was trying to ask, thank you, Pete.”

Sirius glares at the both of them, his teeth gritting together as he tries to hold back from snapping at the two of them.

Why was he upset? Really? One of his best friends just straight up ditched him! Of course he was fucking upset!

“How do you twats not understand that I am upset my friend has fucking abandoned me!” Sirius snarls, his voice wavering as he tries to control his anger.

The others share another, worried glance, which drives Sirius even more insane.

Of course, Remus, James, and Peter quickly caught on that Y/n was avoiding Sirius, and were even quicker to catch on why. It wasn’t that hard to see that Y/n had finally had enough of her silly little crush on Sirius and was trying to stomp it out by avoiding him. And of course, Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail knew that avoiding Sirius at all costs wasn’t going to get rid of Y/n’s feelings for Sirius. And of course, Lupin, Potter, and Pettigrew knew that Sirius’s own feelings towards Y/n were developing beyond friendship.

“I can talk to her if you want me to,” Remus offers.

The usual stormy grey of Sirius’s eyes had darkened considerably in anger, his eyes narrowing at Remus in a glare.

“You’ve done quite a lot of talking to her,” he hisses. “A lot more than I have in Merlin knows how long. Do you know how frustrating that is, Remus? To see that Y/n, who suddenly hates me, is still all buddy-buddy with the three of you? Do you know how shitty it makes me feel when I see her talking to you and then she immediately runs away whenever she sees me? Do you?”

“No,” Remus replies, his voice squeaky at the anger in Sirius’s tone.

"That's what I thought," Sirius snarls, standing up from his bed abruptly.

With quick strides Sirius finds himself at the dormitory door, the door opened an inch before Peter asks curiously, "Where are you going?"

"To fucking find her!" Sirius snaps, turning around and facing his friends. "I can't keep going like this, without her. I - I need her, okay? I need her because ... because I love her. I love her. Holy shit, I love Y/n. I'll be back guys, but I need to find Y/n, even if that means searching every nook and cranny of this godforsaken castle."

He's out the door in another split second, the door slamming closed behind him.

Silence settles over the other three as they share glances, confused evident on each of their faces.

"Well," Remus finally mutters, breaking the silence. "He handled that a lot better than Y/n did when she realized she was in love with Sirius."

–––––––––––

To Sirius's surprise it didn't take him that long to find her. She was sitting in the courtyard, leaning against the truck of a tree with a book on her lap.

Sirius was careful to approach her quietly, not wanting her to spot him and jump up and run away (like she had been doing for two weeks straight).

When Y/n finally looked up from her book, the first thing she saw was Sirius looming in front of her. Her eyes widened as they made eye contact, scrambling to pick up her book and getting to her feet.

"Y/n, wait," Sirius snaps, grabbing onto her wrist with a vice-like grip before she could run away. "Please, don't run again, please."

Y/n sighs, trying to tug her wrist out of Sirius’s grip before she turns and faces him for the first time since the Quidditch game. Her struggling ceases as she sees the pain behind Sirius’s eyes, the pain that she would’ve caused every single time she ignored him or ran away.

“Please, Y/n/n,” he begs in a whisper, pulling her closer to him. “Please, don’t leave me again. I miss you so much. And I am so, so sorry if I did something to hurt you, or did something that made you want to avoid me. I never meant to, I don’t think I have done anything, but if I did just say the word and I will hold myself responsible for it and I will do anything I can to get back in your good graces because I miss you. So, so much. I hate that I haven’t seen you in two weeks, I hate that I haven’t talked to you in two weeks, I hate that I haven’t heard your voice in two weeks, and I hate that you’ve been avoiding me. I’m not blaming you because obviously it must have been something I did, but please Y/n, please, please, please stop avoiding me. I miss you.”

A wave of guilt washes over Y/n as she listens to Sirius, watching tears well in his eyes as it gets increasingly harder for him to talk without choking on his words. However, she can't help the little flutter her heart gives at his words.

Sirius takes a breath, trying to collect himself as he finally says everything he was feeling.

"And-and I hate how much it hurts that you've been doing this. I shouldn't care, I really shouldn't, but I do. I care so goddamn much, Y/n. It's been two weeks, two fucking weeks! I shouldn't be this effected, but I am. I've missed you more in two weeks more than I've missed anything else in my life, more than I miss the Marauders during the holidays, more than I miss Hogwarts during the summer, more than I miss the heat of the summer during the winter, more than I miss the sun in a rainstorm. I missed you, Y/n, and it's only been two weeks. So please, please, please, please, tell me what I did wrong so I can right it and we can go back to how we were before whatever I did."

A pause, a heartbeat before Sirius adds in a trembling voice, "Please."

Y/n takes a shaky breath, trying to stop the heat from rising in her cheeks and giving her away.

"Sirius," she says slowly.

"Please," he interrupts her, his voice breaking. "Please, Y/n. I don't know what I did, but whatever it must have been, I am so sorry. Please, please, please forgive me."

"Sirius," Y/n repeats, "you didn't do anything. I just... I realized something and I shut myself away from you. If anything, I should be saying sorry to you. I never meant to hurt you like this."

Sirius stares at her, confusion bubbling up within him as he listens to her explain.

"I-I don't understand," he admits in a quiet voice. Her stares up at her helplessly. "Why would you avoid me like you have if I didn't do anything? You haven't avoided the others, just me."

Y/n sighs, her heart thudding in her chest as she looks away from Sirius and finally admits in a small voice, "I'm in love with you."

The world stops, for the both of them.

Y/n can't breathe, why would she admit that!? Everything, everything, has been ruined. She ruined their friendship! Why would she do that!?

Sirius can't breathe, did she mean it!? Everything, everything, is going to change, for the better. She felt the same! But why did she avoid him if she loved him?

After what felt like hours of silence, Sirius responds, "I love you, too."

Sirius's heart pounds against his ribcage. Even though she said it first, it's still so hard to admit it.

Y/n's heart pounds against her ribcage. There is no way in hell that he actually feels the same.

"I – w-what?” she stutters, mouth dry.

“I love you too,” Sirius repeats, dropping her wrist. His hands come up to cup her jaw, holding her face in his hands as he smiles down at her. “I-I was thinking about how much I missed you, everything about you – not just your presence – and I guess that led me to realize that I would never feel this way about someone I thought of as my friend. Y/n/n, I realized that I’m in love with you.”

Y/n mirrors Sirius’s smile, relief flooding through her body as her cheeks flush with pink.

“I-I’m glad,” she whispers. “I was scared that you didn’t feel the same; that’s why I started avoiding you. I thought that if I was around you less my feelings would go away, which obviously didn’t work. But I was scared to say something in case I made things awkward between us.”

Sirius chuckles, pressing his forehead against hers, asking in a soft voice, “How could I not be in love with you? You, Y/n L/n, are the most kind, thoughtful, caring, smart, funny, beautiful woman in the whole world; I don’t know how I didn’t realize my feelings for you sooner. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sirius,” Y/n murmurs back. She closes her eyes, relishing in the feeling of Sirius being this close to her.

A comfortable silence fell over the two as they soak in each other’s presence, two hearts beating as one.

Two minutes. It has been two minutes since Sirius has admitted his feelings for Y/n, and it’s making him feel like he’s on top of the world.

Taglist: @littleshadow17 (who asked for a part 2 a month ago. I hope it was up to your standards lol). And @rosieandthethorns (who didn't asked to be tagged but I figured I should let you know so you can stop foaming at the mouth and writhing on the floor lmao)

[mono-dot-jpeg]

tiny exception [pt. 2] - stellaron hunter crew

summary; there's one little exception to the rules of the stellaron hunters...

genre/extra tags; one shot, fluff, a lot of fluff, comedy, children are menaces but it's okay, blade will be punting a kid (/j), rich aunt kafka, silver wolf doesn't know how to handle kids

[platonic] [5-7 year old reader] [gender neutral reader]

[buy me a kofi to support!]

word count; 615

a/n; finally i have finished the part two of this iconic work bc someone requested it. hope you enjoy!

[rule 1; don't bother blade]

this rule really should be obvious. it really should, but kids don't listen to obvious rules.

"why are you so grumpy?"

"because of you."

"that's mean. you're really mean." you sit right on his lap because you felt stubborn today. "and you're stupid." silver wolf stifles a laugh at the sight before her. you and blade glare at each other as you poke at his face like a cat. "and ugly."

"i think you're talking about yourself." anyone who didn't know blade would think, man, he doesn't like this kid. but from the way he holds you gently and the tiny glint of playfulness in his eyes as he talks to you.

"you're so rude! i'm gonna tell kafka!"

you push yourself against him in a weak attempt to tackle him. he only carries you, hands under your armpits as you struggle in his hold.

"you're a little snitch, you know that?" he holds you like a baby this time as you're still kicking your legs and trying to squirm out of his grip to get a chance to get to kafka.

"because you're a big meanie! a big butthead!"

"yeah, yeah."

[rule 2; don't go in kafka's room]

there wasn't really anything incriminating in there. she just didn't like people invading her space and it was normal. but there's always those little exceptions.

"auntie!" you knock on her door, almost a little too loudly. she does open the door, not really fazed since she knows your loud knocks from anywhere.

"what is it, dear?" she's tiredly picking you up, it's clear that she's had a long day but by aeons, she wasn't gonna let that stop her from caring for you.

"can i sleep with you tonight.." you're a little bit embarrassed. you usually stay with silver wolf as her late night working sessions usually help you fall asleep but you haven't seen kafka in the past few days.

"of course you can. i would never say no." her hand pats against your back, comforting you and starting to lull you into a sleep. she lets you rest your head on her shoulder, humming, "i'll be doing a little bit before we lay down. just sleep, baby."

"i like your room, auntie.. i like being with you." you mumbled tiredly. you rest against her as she sits down at her desk, still holding you.

"i like being with you too."

[rule 3; let silverwolf focus when she's playing her games]

something about children and always wondering what games you got on your phone always has silverwolf reeling away from you when she goes to play her games. it took her longest to get used to your bright presence. honestly, children were not really any of their forte. you were an unexpected (yet expected) part of the crew even if you didn't do much (yet).

she usually kept herself away but today was different. she offered to play with you. as it was almost out of character of her, you immediately accepted. and you played a two player co-op game. she was more focused than you were but you didn't mind.

you weren't doing well in the game as your character died multiple times during this boss battle (that was set to medium for you but co-op gave it more health and different battle patterns). you watched as silverwolf tried her best to pull through.

"you can do it!" you had said in the heat of the moment, but her finger slipped and you both lost. "i'm sorry!"

she's a little bit frustrated being so close to the end but she lets out a tired sigh. "it's okay."

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

The First Glance

Hua Cheng x M!Reader x Xie Lian

Honestly I'm just having a go at this and I'm technically writing about my OC. If people notice it that's good. if they don't well😔. So don't hate on me 🖤✨

Mentions of the reader having a veil and white hair, facial scars.

No one has requested any stories from me I wrote this for my own pleasure. So if you want something that isn't for an OC and is for a reader then come tell me and I'll write you something 😋

I keep editing the story cuz I keep forgetting details 😭✊ bear with me plz.

Míngqín means song bird it's Y/n's nickname

Previous part: Tea Shop

__________________________________________________

You've been by Xie Lian's side for a long time. You've been his guard for as long as you can remember, and a god under him for even longer. A very long time actually, so you'd like to think you know him well enough to predict his movements. Apparently not.

You're at Puqi shrine, cleaning the place up and fixing dinner for you and Xie Lian. You chose to stay while Xie Lian went and to go investigate a ghost groom who was kidnapping brides. It's since then turned dark and when Xie Lian turns up, there's another man with him. You weren't expecting Xie Lian to bring someone home with him, nor were you expecting the strange man to stay the night.

The strange man's name is actually San Lang, but you still think he's strange anyways. After scolding Xie Lian for bringing someone home without any warning you serve dinner at the makeshift table you came up with. You give San Lang yours, you don't really need to eat. You're a heaven official and being with Xie Lian has you used to it anyhow.

"Thank you for making dinner Míngqín, I wouldn't have minded making it myself", Xie Lian says. You cringe at the thought though. You wave a hand, "not necessary I've got it". You sit down and observe as they both eat. Xie Lian and San Lang chat about something but you aren't paying attention. You're staring at San Lang, it's strange how fast the man has clung himself to Xie Lian. You've never seen him before and yet he so easily acts as if he's known Xie Lian forever.

You look away, thoughts straying to the bed laying on the floor. If it can even be called that it's more like a mat. Are all three of you going to sleep on it? Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when you notice San Lang staring at you. He can't possibly see your face not with the veil you've hidden it behind, but the way he's staring at you makes it feel like he's trying to. It doesn't feel like anything bad or alarming, just unnerving. People don't look at you. They usually stray their eyes away, but San Lang does not.

You leave the table, and lie on the mat. Xie Lian and San Lang will eventually lay down too. You take the middle spot. It makes the most sense, you don't want Xie Lian to be in danger. He's always been kind and you don't want that to back fire on him. You figure it's most safe if you stay between San Lang and Xie Lian.

You are already 'asleep', you aren't of course but you're breathing and heartbeat all sound as if you are. You technically don't need sleep but it's still nice to rest sometimes. You can hear San Lang talk about the missing painting on the wall. There's not yet a painting of the God of Scraps, but Xie Lian ushers San Lang to go to sleep instead.

Xie Lian lies to your right, you can tell. After all you've been sleeping next to each other for years. San Lang lies to your left, leaving you stuck in the middle. It's uncomfortable. You aren't worried about your veil slipping off, it's yours to manipulate and you've long since mastered being able to make the veil comfortable on your face. It's the closeness that bothers you.

You haven't really been in anyone's company other than Xie Lian's. No one else tends to like you, not the officials and not ghosts. That's fine you don't like them either but this sudden presence is new and you've never liked touch in the first place. Touch is scary. It always has been since the fall of XianLe. It makes you want to puke. Xie Lian is the only exception to this, seeing as you've been around him your whole life.

It's not that repulsive actually. For whatever reason San Lang's closeness doesn't seem to make you want to hurl. His breath down the back of your neck however makes you nervous. If you weren't a ghost your heart would be beating fast. You can feel him staring holes into you but you play sleep anyways.

"You're not truly asleep are you?" You internally huff as San Lang asks. You didn't think you were bad at it. You ignore him and continue hoping he'll believe your lie. It's not until a shuffle on your right, and a harsh grip on your robes make you realize San Lang isn't talking to you.

"It's not like I was fake sleeping San Lang" you can feel Xie Lian sit up a bit. "You aren't asleep either" Xie Lian exclaims. You can't see of course your eyes are closed even behind the veil you're worried they'd see your eyes open.

"I was too busy staring at your assistant" his voice takes on a teasing tone. 'Assistant' is what Xie Lian had told San Lang you are. Xie Lian is supposed to be a priest for himself and your alias is to be Xie Lian's assistant. Of course it's not who you truly are. You're truly the God of Song and Xie Lian is truly the God of Scraps. San Lang wouldn't know that though.

Your stomach drops when you feel San Lang's hand start to tinker with your veil. You're about to give it all up to move away but a big clap happens right over your face. You suppose it's time to give it up for the night. You open your eyes, and look up at the clasped hands above you. Xie Lian's holding San Lang's, most likely trying to move his hand away.

"Ah I'm sorry we woke you Míngqín, San Lang just needed a blanket he was cold..." Xie Lian smiles down at you. You nod, "It's okay. Let's go back to sleep then." San Lang only laughs to himself and lies back down. You and Xie Lian lay back down too. The night eventually calms again.

**********************************************************

When morning comes, you realize you fell asleep and when you get out of bed you see that Xie Lian and San Lang have already gotten out of bed. You get up as well and you change your veil. The veil is often changed, you don't like keeping the same design everyday. Some veils cover your whole face, and some veils leave your eyes unhidden. Today you choose a veil that only covers your nose and mouth.

You're ready to go outside until something in the corner of your eye stops you. A painting of Xie Lian back when he was Prince in XianLe..? Did San Lang really paint that? Now it's obvious San Lang isn't a mortal. No one would be able to paint it so accurately from 800 years ago.

You admire it for a minute and then go outside. San Lang and Xie Lian are standing by a cut wood pile. They both turn their heads toward you.

"Good morning Míngqín", "morning y/n". You nod back, noticing San Lang's hair is loose.

"Your hair will surely get caught if you don't put your hair up, San Lang" you haven't really spoken to San Lang the whole time since he's been here but you don't hate him. He did somehow make that painting after all. "Let me fix your hair San Lang" Xie Lian offers. He leads San Lang back inside to a bucket of water.

You know Xie Lian is checking if San Lang is a ghost, but San Lang looks like he is enjoying himself, "Are you just going to play with my hair gege?" Xie Lian is quick to get flustered and he puts San Lang's hair into a very messy braid. It looks messier than before.

You don't pay attention to the fact San Lang has started calling Xie Lian 'gege'. You snicker quietly at Xie Lian's flustered face, as he waves his hands telling San Lang he's all done with his hair. Xie Lian is not very good at doing hair, but San Lang looks happy with it. You don't bother offering to fix it.

"A-Lian it's your turn, come sit". You pat the stool. Xie Lian cooperates and you start combing through his hair. You've always brushed out Xie Lian's hair. He doesn't know how to get the knots out. Xie Lian used to just leave the knots there until you forced him to sit down one day so you could brush it out.

When you're finished brushing his hair you tie it up in his usual half bun-half down hairstyle. You step away from him and notice San Lang staring at you. It seems he's very good at staring.

"You should let gege do your hair as well y/n" you grunt and shake your head. No way you were letting Xie Lian put knots in your hair. You love him very much but you also love your hair.

"No it's alright" you wave a hand but San Lang insists. "I can fix your hair then. Gege did my hair, and you did Gege's. I'll do yours" he smiles. It sounds like generosity, but you've found whatever San Lang says sounds like teasing. You almost shake your head no, but San Lang looks like he really wants to indulge.

"I... Suppose" you hesitate. To fix your hair you would have to take off your veil and only Xie Lian has seen your face and even he hasn't seen it in so long. San Lang is very gentle when he removes your veil, as if he's touching something that will shatter. You cover your mouth with your sleeve. To hide the scars, you don't want them to be seen.

Your thoughts are interrupted by San Lang's fingers running through your hair. He combs it out gently. "Your hair is very beautiful y/n, has gege ever told you?" This flusters you, if you actually had the ability to blush then blood would have colored your cheeks. You have strange hair, it's long but it's white. It's always been like that but after ascending the officials were not your biggest fans. Especially since you stayed with Xie Lian. So they often make remarks about your appearance not that it bothers you.

"Thank you" you notice Xie Lian looking at you. You're eyes are the only thing that can be seen but he's still soaking up what you've hidden for the past hundreds of years before you hide it behind a veil again.

"How come this one hides his face?" San Lang asks as he does something with your hair. You don't know how to answer that so you redirect, "Does San Lang want to see it that bad?" He only laughs at this, and he moves into your field of vision. "I'm all finished. Gege take a look at y/n's hair is it nice?" You want to see what it looks like. You look into the bucket of water.

San Lang put your hair into a braid. He's tied your hair with a red ribbon, it must be San Lang's but you'll keep it. He gave it to you so it's only fair. You run your hands over the braid. Your hair hasn't been styled in a long time, there was never a reason to put it up after all. Your hair is usually left loose.

"it's very pretty San Lang. Míngqín why don't you keep the veil off?" Xie Lian cocks his head to the side. "Yes, there's no reason to hide your face." You furrow your brows, you could keep it off. You're just scared to have your scars out in the open. "... I'll think about it."

You hesitate, but you remove your hand from covering your mouth. To you, your face has been ruined. Your mouth has been slashed from a sword from a very long time ago. Scars line over your lips. You wished that they were pretty scars, with neat lines. They are not though. It's not so bad to show your face to San Lang and Xie Lian.

They stare at you, Xie Lian's look you can understand. You don't understand San Lang's look, he looks as if he's trying to soak up the details of your face too. As if your face is something he hasn't seen in such a long time. You've never met San Lang though...

Now that everyone's hair is fixed, San Lang is an exception to that - y/n giggles every time he sees it - , now they can start their morning. It's a good start to the day and Y/n thinks that San Lang has fit himself quite well into their routine.

Even though San Lang is a new addition to your group he makes it very easy to like him. Especially with how much he clings to Xie Lian's side, but San Lang also seems to be clinging to you too.

__________________________________________________

Criticism or comments plzzzz, I want to know if anyone enjoyed it or if there are ways I can make it better. I also want to know if people want to continue seeing the story! Also don't forget you can request me for stuff! 🖤✨

Maple Robes and Lace Veils

[gorgeouslypink]

hey pink!

i was hoping you could offer some encouragement and advice to me. basically the entire luckyvoidgirl thing yesterday, i acctually liked her success story, it made sense to me and i even listened to cee's subliminal and my parents ended up saying i don't have to go to this dumb event i was dreading so im even seeing successes with it

the thing was she said something that i can't stop thinking about. she said that a lot of tumblr is just misinformation and that the original blog that brought the void to tumblr was divineangelbee and she was exposed for lying about the void. everyone just copied whatever she said and kept spreading the same stuff she put out but her own experience was all a lie. it really got me thinking about how educated this community is about loa, like the void state and loa is so intertwined. luckyvoidgirl never said she used loa and she did something different but she got so much flack bc the void community on tumblr is so deeprooted in loa, possibly bc of angel. but anyways for a community that is so deeprooted in loa, so many people haven't entered and even worse, so many bloggers have been exposed for lying about their success story. the crazy thing is its so easy to lie on tumblr so the fact that so many have gotten caught makes me wonder how many we haven't even caught and really how does a community that knows loa struggle like this.

idk i just can't stop thinking about this and was hoping for some guidance.

hey love! im technically on break but you're not the only one spiraling so i rlly wanted to answer this.

first of all, i want to say she's just lying and this community is great but i can't. the truth of the matter is she is right. the person who brought the void to tumblr was @divineangelbee and she was the one who went around saying it was super easy and anyone can do it and she was and is still pretty much the blueprint for how a lot of voidstate tumblr thinks, but she was exposed for harassing her friends to enter the void for her. since then, many other bloggers who basically parrot the same thing as her have been exposed as well.

however i want to highlight something here. just because someone preaches something and it doesn't work out for them doesn't mean it's false. this is a super old argument, like back when bloggers like cleo and raven were super popular but people were arguing abt Sammy Ingram. basically she was a big affirm and persist girlie and people were going at her for saying this but never losing any weight (her main goal with manifestation was to lose weight but she never did and just gaslighted anyone who pointed it out, saying they were bodyshaming her). while something was off for sammy (maybe she didn't persist or maybe she just didn't bother doing her method at all), her method worked for so many people. there's boatloads and boatloads of success stories from her videos and methods. so someone can be lying about the void and still be giving legit advice.

however, the void state community on tumblr DOES have a lot of misinformation. ive seen people claim the void state is just SATS, just alpha state, theta state, delta state, it's acc just a placebo for you to guarantee manifestations, and all sorts of nonsense. now there's a new addition, people who tell you to pay money and they'll get you into the void state. it's honestly crazy how hard the community went against the luckyvoidgirl but not some of the other stuff i see here.

but anyways, what do you do?

you need to realize that you entering the void has nothing to do with the state of the void community on tumblr. people lying abt entering the void doesnt make the void a lie, it makes them a liar.

ive been in that position where i hailed bloggers and felt attached to this community so drama here messed with me internally. you shouldn't be doing that. please read my Doubts post where i talk about overcoming this and also provide many sources of proof that the void is real so that you don't need to rely on tumblr to know that:

also it helps to find a few reputable sources. i just wanted to give a shout out to someone rn: @voidprincessblog

her page is the page i would recommend to everyone. you can tell the amount of research and effort she puts into every post and you can trust her to be a reputable source on info.

im going to attach this other post of mine for you as well:

i wish you the best of luck on your void journey and hope this helps! 💟

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[bambinambi]

Nobody Is Your Friend

Life as a Jyeshta native

I've always struggled with maintaining friendships. I always considered myself to be a really good friend; putting in a ton of energy into my friends' birthdays, checking up on them regularly and always being there for them but I don't believe I've ever recieved the same energy back. Oftentimes, my so-called "friends" wouldn't even wish my happy birthday, get me anything, or plan anything for my birthday. They would rarely bother to check on me, even during COVID. I've had "friends" constantly put me down by ridiculing my physical appearance or intelligence. I've had friends purposefully leave me out of plans because I was no longer fun to be around after my grandmother passed away.

I've had "friends" that I cut off, turn around, and harrass and bully after the fact. I've had friends tell me I was 'trauma dumping' onto them whenever I decided to be vulnerable despite being there for them whenever they needed anyone to talk to, even being told I am not a "good enough support system" despite ALWAYS being there. I've generally had friends demand things of me that they were never willing to reciprocate. As a consequence, I've become quite jaded to the idea of befriending people. I realise that I don't hold friends to a degree that others do because I've seen all the worst sides of how friendship can turn out. I have a solid 5 friendships, and even then, I know they're not as great as the friendships I've witnessed in my life.

Whenever I pursue a relationship with someone, they often end up acting in ways that make me pull back, like deciding they suddenly hate me, talking behind my back, being unnecessarily hypercritical of me, telling people the things I've said to them in confidence, making fun of me behind my back, the list goes on.

On the other side of things, I've noticed an obsessiveness towards me (which I partly contributed to having a Mrigashira moon) relating to this incessant need I've realised that some people have to almost "breaking me down" or "taking me off my high horse" (even when having low confidence), especially if I've "bruised" their ego in a way. I remember two months after I stopped talking to this guy (he would constantly try to prove his intellectual superiority over me), he and his friends posted a video in which he tried to make it seem like he was never interested in me, inspite of the fact that I only started really noticing him because my friends would point out how he and his friends (sometimes in his absence) would always used to stare at me, and try to get close to me.

Thankfully, I've study people enough to recognise that the things people have criticised me about are usually the things they themselves are insecure about in themselves, so I don't take it too personally, but it does get draining.

Another thing I've noticed about the "obsessiveness" is people copying me, like A LOT (watching Claire Nakti's video of Jyeshta confirmed this to me). After adopting my entire personality, dress sense, music taste, and mannerism, these individuals would end up discarding me. It's like they would steal my very essence. That's how I felt after my last friendship that felt like this. At the end of friendship, I was a shell of myself.

Romantic relationships haven't been able to fill the void either, as I feel like the men who are evidently attracted to me always feel a need to humble me or sexualising me but not being serious about being in longterm relationships with me (definitely blame my Lilith and Pluto aspecting almost all my personal planets), and so I remain quite lonely in the world. I also have Jyeshta in the 10th house (the house public image and perception) and Lilith in the 11th house closely conjunct my venus, which opposes a Punarvasu North Node so to say relationships are difficult would be an understatement.

- This is just another unfiltered rant. I feel like one of these days, I should post something more positive, but this year has been nothing but disappointments, and I always keep it real

[imperatorrrrr]

Can you please do NICO HISCHIER SCHOLARS REPORT part 2?

I'm sorry this is so incredibly late, Anon, but let's go.

So we're going to be doing a deep dive into this Nico Hischier interview from Summer 2021. (Fair warning, these interviewers are...annoying ahahah to say the least, and sometimes do not shut up, but there are some gems from this.) I feel like I haven't seen a lot of content from this video, so I thought it might be a good one to share and also discuss...

First things first, Nico's giving this interview from Switzerland, and from the way he's positioned, I'm going to say he's giving this interview lying on his bed or something. The phone is facing up towards the ceiling and he's kind of facing the phone on top? Like I guess he could have laid the phone flat on a desk of some kind? Regardless, its an interesting choice of positioning to give an interview!

Fun Fact! This is Nico's first time meeting "Mike" and this Mike person ends up being someone that Nico stays connected with. Do you guys remember the sauna pictures and videos from this past season? That was courtesy of this very same Mike.

We all know Nico played a variety of sports growing up, but we learn here that Nico also played tennis, which I think is a new one to add to the list as well as swimming, skiing, and eventually switching to snowboarding.

Nico lived with a billet family. There's a great article that details that. Check it out here.

From youth, Nico was playing hockey with guys older than him.

"I had a really good season there" - big smile when talking about Halifax

He's still in touch with his Halifax teammates.

There's a bit in this interview, which unfortunately gets cut off due to connectivity issues, but basically Nico's asked about whether he was given a hard time by anyone bigger/older than him and I think his answer pretty much sums up the philosophy he has in the NHL now. "It never bothered me...these guys who were talking shit about me, I just didn't care, and just kept going."

"I had fun. Still now, I just have fun playing hockey and hanging out with the guys." - This quote I think is the epitome of Nico Hischier. Like, throw it back to Nico's pre-game speech before one of the playoff games "remember to have fun". That's Nico's entire hockey essence. And then throw it back to the win streak in the 22-23 season "this is the most fun playing hockey I've ever had". He just wants to hang out with his boys and have a good time.

Nico did a little bit of high school while he was in Canada.

One of the interviewers calls Nico "mister easy going, always playful". One of the times Nico met this man, he did a back flip off a bench in the gym. Like, thats Nico Hischier. He's not always mister serious, he's not always Nico Hischier Resting Face™️. He's just a silly little guy.

On Expectations: "I always try to keep that on the outside, always try to focus me on myself...I'll try my best every game, if its not enough its not enough...sacrifice myself for the team...at the end of the career, I obviously want people to say that he was a great player, but its almost like a little bit more important for me to have people say that I was a great teammate, I was a great guy to hang around with, lots of fun. This is my goal a little bit." Like how can you not love the guy?!

There's a whole bit about Nico taking a puck to the face (this was when PK Subban's shot hit Nico in the face back in the February 2021). He talks about the surgery and the actually medical procedures involved. I'm not going to get into the specifics here in case folks are squeamish, but just an FYI its in the interview. If you're not squeamish its very interesting, but trust me you want to skip that part if you are. He goes into detail.

One of the things Nico enjoys the most about playing hockey is the traveling to other cities.

What do you attribute your success to? Nico talks about his family that always supported him. Talent isn't all you need, you need to work hard as well. He talks about how he did things that maybe have been considered "weird" by his peers. When he was fourteen/fifteen he went to Pilates once a week with his sister. He was the only guy in the class. Loves to try new things. If you're not having fun then its not worth it.

Sidenote for anyone wondering about the Devils jersey hanging above Nico? Fairly certain thats a Patrik Elias jersey. If you wanna be in your feels for a bit.

"I do believe in our team. I'm just excited about what's coming up." - this was summer 2021. He has believed for a while that this team has it in them to compete truly.

Nico's inability to say the word "rivalry" will always always always make me smile.

"I want to put the team in front of me."

So during this entire interview, the two hosts are cursing throughout, and near the end Nico says "fuck" and immediately apologizes.

Nico believes he was picked as Captain for the person he is off the ice. "I'm an easy going guy. I don't really have a problem with anyone. I'm just guy you can have fun with. You can come over to my place. We can have a couple of beers, talk about anything, doesn't have to be hockey. If I see a friend is not playing his best, I'm not trying to fuck with him, I'll go talk to him. I'll try to help him."

One of the interviewers ends the interview by saying "you're a special dude"

And that's that. Tried something different with this edition of Nico Scholars, so I hope ya'll liked it.