#ily physical media

[arctic-hands]

Thirty minutes and 9 paragraphs into an excited list of alternatives to Spotify's monopoly re: music, videos, podcasts, audiobooks, for weenies like me who are nervous about pirating, and my app crashes.

Well now I'm on a laptop and I swear to god if this crashes too I'm calling it a conspiracy.

LEGAL ALTERNATIVES TO SPOTIFY:

Music: There are virtually limitless options here. Buy music directly from the musicians/band! If they don't sell mp3s directly from their site, they almost certainly have CDs for sale, so buy those and rip the mp3s to your computer (if your computer doesn't have a CD slot, you can buy an external one for fairly cheap). Go to a new/used music store, they still exist!, and buy albums there. Buy old albums from ebay! Go to goodwill or other thrift stores and browse there collection of cast-off music for cheap, you never know what you'll find. Hell, browse their cheap vinyl if you prefer their sound and get a vinyl-to-MP3 conversion device if you like. They even have conversion devices for cassette tapes, if you find a treasure that was only ever released on tape. Once upon a time I would have said Bandcamp for MP3 or even physical albums (I once upon a time got an AUTOGRAPHED TO MY NAME CD of Lauren Ruth Ward's Well Hell album), but they recently union busted and a lot of artists pulled their stuff from them. I don't really know anything about 7Digital's business practices, but they are another seller of MP3 music, as well as MP4, FLAC, and WAV.

Music DEVICES: If you just want to manage everything on one device, your phone, get the free VLC app! It's open source and is absolutely wonderful. I only ever used it for music, but it's capable of much more than I realized, and it's open source and ad-free! And the audio files are tiny, even when I was running out of room on my sixteen gig old phone, I still had a substantial music library on it before before I got a dedicated music player.

Which brings me to my next point: MP3 PLAYERS STILL EXIST! I own two! My first one is a twenty-dollar SanDisk Clip Jam (an established and sturdy brand), my current is a thirty-dollar Phinistec Z6 (that just came out of nowhere it seems). Each have their pros and cons, and there are so so so many options out there. Some are smart, some don't even have wifi (neither of mine do). Some have expandable card slots for even more music. Some are extremely basic, some have a plethora of features. Some are cheap but still decent in sound, some are high-end for that true audiophile experience. Some have touch screens, some have buttons, some have no screens at all. Some only use wired earphones, some only use bluetooth, some (like the Z6) can use both! There are so many brands out there even in Twenty Twenty-four. Even the random brands cropping up online are some really good shit, and I bought both of mine used bc I have concerns about the lithium industry. Oh, and some are regular battery powered. And you don't need iTunes or anything, I just use the basic Windows Media Player to rip my CDs or put mp3s music on my player. In fact I've been avoiding Apple players because I'm worried they'd brick older devices, especially ones with wifi. But there are so many options out there, it's impossible to name them all.

Audiobooks: YOU DON'T HAVE TO USE AUDIBLE! Libro.fm has a similar business model (an optional subscription fee with a free credit every month, or the option to buy book without a subscription for a little bit extra price), and you can direct the profits to the indie bookseller of your choice! I have mine set to go to Baltimore's anarcho-feminist bookstore, Red Emma's. How to listen to the audiobooks you buy? Libro has an app you can listen to directly from! AND they have the option to directly download from the site (meaning no program you have to install) the book in non-proprietary mp3/mp4 files so you can listen to it on any device that can use those files! THAT INCLUDES MP3 PLAYERS! Almost every music player on the market now not only plays audiobooks, but has sections on the device specifically for them! Some, like the Clip Jam, are even proprietary audible-compatible if you still use or already have books there (check audible's site, and you'll have to go thru a registration process). I was listening to audiobooks on both my CJ and the Z6 (the Z6 doesn't have a section for them, but still played them), but I recently bought an e-ink/e-paper (meaning no backlit LED screen causing eye strain or insomnia) ereader, a Pocketbook Touch HD 3, and that is mp3/mp4 capable for audiobooks, and is easier to maneuver books with since it's meant for books. ALSO: the library apps Hoopla and Libby also have audiobooks you can listen to via phone or computer/browser, depending on your library's catalog. Some ereaders can even have the apps for them, and if they have audiocapabilities you can use the ereader for that too.

Podcasts: There are so many apps for this. I have Podcast Addict (I don't remember off the top of my head if it's on apple, I use android, but there are still so many apps). Literally I only had to sacrifice one podcast when I stopped using spotify, PodcastAddict has everything else I've ever listened to or want to listen to in the future. You can download them for offline use on your phone, and, you guessed it, MOST MP3 PLAYERS HAVE PODCAST SECTIONS TOO. MINE DO! There are still ads at the beginning and end, but I usually skip over them without care.

Video: This one is a bit trickier as YouTube is also a monopoly, but what I do is just watch yt on my phone's Firefox browser with UBlock Origins adblocker installed. Sometimes yt gets into a hissy fit with adblocker, but UBlock usually gets ahead pretty quickly thus far. And if in the periods Origins is losing, I just find something else to do. I'm sure someone else has recommendations for videos, they're just not a big part of my life right now.

Anyway, don't let the horrid beast that is spotify monopoloize the audio industry OR your time! There are options, and even if you're not a luddite like me that hates having everything on my smartphone bc I'm worried about privacy or companies yoinking their stuff off my devices via wifi (like Amazon did once with their copies of, of all things, Nineteen Eighty-four about a decade ago) at the whim of corporations. You HAVE OPTIONS! YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CONTROL YOUR MEDIA AND REJECT MONOPOLIES!

[attanos]

about to start buying blurays of my favourite movies & tv shows im truly so over fucking streaming platforms

[nightghoulz]

I finished drawing the bare bones sketch of one of my night lord ocs. (Will finish concept before I show it because I WILL change my mind) And I’m proud of the armor but that’s not the point.

Anyways! She will have a brother, though I can’t decide if they will be twins or just siblings. I feel like twin psychic shit (because yay fun night lords powers that drive them nuts) would be cool to explore. But I could do that with siblings too.

I’m finalizing a few design things for now. One, can’t decide what her hair will be. I can only draw teeny nearly bald hair or sanguinius magnus whatever level hair. No in between- and I’m so sick of having to do it so my wrath will decide for me tomorrow (technically later today) maybe the brother will be spared that curse.

Also can’t decide if she should get fucked up by the inquisition or something else. Leaning towards inquisition because I have a cool idea B)

And then she’ll get a gf eventually because I <3 women yay. either sister of battle or inquisition and it won’t work well but we will deal with that as it comes! Maybe a bf. I don’t know whatever comes out looking interesting.

[bisexual-slime]

idk about all this 'death of dvds' all i know is I've officially ran out of room in my dvd cabinet

the death of dvds is so fucked. what about bonus features

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 5)

au masterlist

notes: do i like this? idk. but it’s out.

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, dawson1417, and 221,691 others

y/ndevils00 ALL HAIL SATAN! i mean— THE DEVILS!!

YOUR NEW JERSEY DEVILS ARE NOW 6-0 IN THE PRESEASON! STILL THE FINAL UNDEFEATED TEAM IN THE PRESEASON!

tonight we played a home game against the dirty dish rags, and WON 5-2!!

the normal roster played tonight, which means prudential center was finally not just a whore house, but a whore HOME 🫶

we kicked off with a power play goal from my sweet blonde swede, Jesper Bratt! with an assist from my personal devil, Jacky!

literally THIRTY-TWO SECONDS later, MY SMUSH GOT HIS FIRST GOAL OF THE PRESEASON! I COULDN’T BE PROUDER OF YOU, MY MUNCHKIN! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!

in second period, we got a power play goal from best friend number 1!!! you are a star in every way! shine your light, puppy!!

we also got a power play goal from the light of my life, the love of my heart, my uber hot and a lot less smart, boyfriend; JACK ‘BABYGIRL’ ROWDEN HUGHES!!! SO PROUD OF YOU, YOU SEXY DEVIL, YOU!

and to finish us off, in third period, we got a goal from the one, the only, CAPTAIN SWISS SLUT!! look at you go! sticking your tongue out, one game at a time!

p.s. can you guess who was able to talk her way into being allowed to bring her professional camera and take pics through the camera holes in the glass?

i’ll give you a hint! she’s super hot, super smart, loves nicknames, and has a degree in ‘annoying her boyfriend’!

tagged jesperbratt, lhughes_06, dawson1417, jackhughes, nicohischier

Load more comments

john.marino97 i’m not featured?

y/ndevils00 do better

john.marino97 but i played good?

y/ndevils00 do. better.

john.marino97 @/dawson1417 translate?

dawson1417 she has my child hostage. i cannot translate.

john.marino97 @/dawson1417 your child?

dawson1417 …i’ve said too much

user74 omg PROFESSIONAL GRADE PHOTOS

jackhughes you are an odd duck, my love

y/ndevils00 why are you talking about trevor on MY post?

jackhughes why would you think i’m calling Z “my love”?

y/ndevils00 idk what y’all are into 🤷‍♀️

lhughes_06 thank you squish! but “munchkin”? you know i’m taller than you, right?

y/ndevils00 only physically

lhughes_06 i think that’s the only way that counts…

y/ndevils00 mentally? i could squash you. but i would never, because you’re my smush and ily

lhughes_06 mhm, i appreciate that

user62 where can i get a captain swiss slut? asking for a friend…

y/ndevils00 mine came from Bern! check there!

dawson1417 i’m a star 😊⭐️

y/ndevils00 YOU’RE A STAR!! AND YOU SHINE THE BRIGHTEST!!

dawson1417 and no do better?

y/ndevils00 no do better!! you did great!

john.marino97 i hate you both

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 you love us so much you could die

john.marino97 shut up 😒

jesperbratt i look good! 😄

y/ndevils00 you look like the sweet angel that you are!

nicohischier why do you always get me with my tongue out?

y/ndevils00 i have a sixth sense

nicohischier i thought your sixth sense was finding Jack when he’s on the ipad?

y/ndevils00 i have a seventh sense

nicohischier yeah, okay

user29 THE GOALIE TAPS

dougieham y/n, how do you feel that Jack wore a mouthguard tonight? 🎤

y/ndevils00 I FEEL GREAT! THE SUN IS SHINING, THE BIRDS ARE SINGING, THE FLOWERS ARE BLOOMING 🗣️

jackhughes you said you’d love me even without teeth 🤨

y/ndevils00 i don’t wanna test that theory

trevorzegras hot damn! my man is on fire! GO HUGHESY!

y/ndevils00 i’m gonna fly to anaheim and soak your pillow in vinegar

trevorzegras YOUR man is on fire!

y/ndevils00 that’s what i thought

[miiashiifts]

10 fun things i scripted into my dr(s) ☆ 𖦹

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

1. i have a HUGE collection of physical media (eg. dvds , cds , vhs , vinyl) and any piece of media i that i obtain is always in perfect condition.

2. me & my best friend (or boyfriend occasionally) go on roadtrips all the time, staying in dingy motels and eating at local vintage diners.

3. i possess a whimsical aura everywhere i go, constantly turning heads and making people think “who is she?”.

4. my tiktok fyp (and any social media for that matter) only shows me things that i want to see / things that will be helpful for me.

5. everyone still uses digital cameras instead of their phone cameras - phones still have the feature to take pictures but not many people use it, as digitals are more “in”.

6. thrift stores / charity shops always have atleast 3 items that suit my style and they’re never more than £10 each. (cuz prices are going UP these days whew)

7. my signature scent is coconut & my body is always appropriately moisturised with coconut body butter at all times.

8. i have a diary that nobody besides me can ever find that writes a summary of every day that im physically in my dr as if it was a summary of a tv show episode. you can also toggle whether you want a short summary or a longer, more diary entry-like summary.

9. all of my friends / my s/o can braid my hair when i want them to (for more of a relaxation thing instead of needing it braided lol) aswell as always playing with my hair perfectly when i want them to.

10. my mother made a scrapbook full of pictures of me when i was a baby up until my teen years with little notes & letters to me which she gave to me on my 18th birthday (ily mom!!!!!)

and a little extra bonus one because i love this: i am notoriously known for posting my spotify wrapped every year in my actress dr, and even more notorious that my top song for the past 4 years has been “love will tear us apart” by joy division 🫡

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

[skrunksthatwunk]

ZOO WEE MAMA

coughing up blood shivering. okay your turn!! ^v^

tagging: @accurzed @crypt1dcorv1dae @timlets @squishylemonbubbles @sbev-e @dykecatboy

tagged by: @bugmannyarla

i got tagged by @agoddamnedrayofsunshine~

tagging @marshmallow-creme @irkimatsu @coffinsister @fledbeast578 @aqours @littlemissboa @sideofblog @emmavoid and if anyone else wants to do it just assume i tagged you too

[stayevildarling]

Wilhemina Venable x Cordelia Goode x Reader- Unspoken Wars

A/N: I‘m still working on the Agatha fic so I whipped up a quick one while I was at work earlier. Read with care pls🤍

tw/tags: established relationship, poly relationship, female reader, mental health, mention of working out, mild mention of depression/anxiety, mild mention of self harm (mild), mention of bruises, mild mention of politics

word count: 3.5k

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker , @billiebeanhoward , @lanawinters-ily , @kenzbro , @minaslittleone , @httpfiftyshadesofgay @whitelotus00 , @ninaahelvar , @paulsonsratched , @vintagepaulson , @isle-of-earle , @grilledcheeseandguavajelly , @lucyintheskywithxanax , @fanfics4world , @mymiraclewitch , @hazard-to-myself , @awritersometimes , @wastdstime , @p1pecleanerwitheyes , @queen2234 , @ihartnat , @lifebyinez , @ahsatanizgay , @blu3dimples, @stepintomyworld

It started slowly but suddenly at the same time, a raging storm igniting within you and dragging you down. The world made you angry, not being able to see it‘s beauty as everything annoyed you, everything exhausted you in a way it hadn‘t before. Living at the academy with your two girlfriends, constantly surrounded by safety and witchcraft, you never really questioned the outside world too much, living in your own little bubble but lately it had upset you.

It was election night when everything changed, the three of you sitting on the sofa while anxiously glancing at the TV and when red overshadowed the screen, something within you burst. You stayed beside Cordelia who‘s anxiety grew ahead of her as you soothed her gently, calming Wilhemina as all sorts of words that she didn‘t usually use leave her mouth. All the hatred and annoyance steaming off like that. And while they coped in their own way, their healthy ways of finding comfort in each other, you chose a different way. Your entire life had been overshadowed by this, the news, your phone and social media constantly reminding you what they had taken from you, your girlfriends and ultimately most women in the place you had called home forever.

You couldn‘t help yourself, finding sudden comfort in the thought of letting your anger out in a healthy way or so you thought. You had taken up running again, something you had been far to busy and lazy for in the past few years, your stamina questionable. And so you decided to take up swimming too, using the gym closeby to do some weights and boxing. And it all came so suddenly that you never really realized how much you are overdoing it. But of course your girlfriends noticed. How usually you would spend your days at the academy, despite not having any witch powers, helping out all the time. You would make their lunches, do some paperwork with the supreme and help her prepare for classes. Doing the housework and making sure your girlfriends have a warm cooked meal once they are home.

And Cordelia was the first to notice, her eyebrows furrowing when the spot beside them was empty early in the mornings, finding you in the kitchen in some workout clothes, while chugging a smoothie. She didn‘t think much of it at first, having seen you go on the occasional run over the years. But then came the couple of evenings when you would be gone, quickly mumbling something about the gym and then you‘d be gone for hours, returning with wet hair from swimming, returning with the occasional bruises on your knuckles. Wilhemina didn‘t take very long to notice either, her often the one holding your hands and noticing the blue and purple lingering reminders of your pain as well as the occasional shaking when holding you in her arms, a result of overdoing it and also not fueling your body enough.

Both of them had tried a couple of times, feeling your absence both physically and emotionally, never really truly there or engaged in a conversation, your mind always seemingly miles away. And they noticed the anger in your eyes, a mix of sadness and the desire to burn down the entire world around you, something they had never seen before. As if that one night had completely taken your sunshine away, the depths and beauty in your eyes, the love for them. They both knew your love never faded, two packed lunches always prepared in the mornings, Mina‘s evening baths always drawn by you and a home cooked meal always waiting for them, just the absence of their sunshine there at times. And they missed you, miss holding you close to their chests and heart, whispered love confessions and a hand softly lingering on you somewhere.

They had tried for a while but you never opened up, always mumbling some excuse about wanting to get fitter, not having done enough lately but they could feel the lie, Delia not needing any magic to know as much. And then it all started crashing down, skipping meals, only joining them in bed late at night when they are already asleep, not wanting the questions and to explain yourself. Everything became too much, the anger from the outside world, the state of the chaos inside you. But you couldn‘t help yourself, an old friend having greeted you again recently and you should have known that was the sign to get help, that this wasn‘t normal or healthy. But you couldn‘t help yourself when returning home one evening, feeling drained and exhausted as ever, seeing the blade on the sink and taking it into your hands. And you had experience enough to know where to hide them, gracing your skin just near the top of your stomach, underneath your bra, knowing your girlfriends may not notice them this way.

And they almost didn‘t until one day when Mina was making some tea in the kitchen, working from home that day and taking a break. She found you in between a run and going to the gym, her features lighting up as she sees you and the way you hastily brushed a kiss on her cheek. For a moment you remained as she offered you some tea but you politely declined, but you saw the way she struggled to reach the cup on the top shelf, assuming one of the girls had placed it there as you and Cordelia always considered Mina‘s condition when it came to the little things. „Let me“ you offered, going on your tip toes and reaching for the purple mug. She saw them then, angry perfect lines, red. And she didn‘t say anything, thanking you before watching you go, noticing this was much worse than she and Cordelia had initially believed, quickly taking the tea and what she had seen to the supreme‘s office.

„She‘s hurting“ Wilhemina admitted in the quiet safety of her office and Cordelia didn‘t understand at first, assuming it was what they had already discussed countless times. But the redheads face said it all and the supreme sighed then, not an annoyed one, never an annoyed one but a sad one. They decided then and there that they couldn‘t wait any longer, wanting and needing to support you through this, like the countless times you had saved them, been there for them in the bravest and loyal way possible. They opted for the same night, preparing some dinner, opting for a healthy choice, knowing you are working on yourself at the moment. The table is neaty set, it being Friday the Academy silent, the dining table coated in white lit candles, casting a soft glow and the smell of vanilla and Cordelia‘s cooking making for a comfortable atmosphere.

„Darling, we made dinner for you“ Wilhemina explained gently, finding you in the library where you had hidden away for most of the day. „Coming“ you announced with a smile, knowing they had been slowly catching on, knowing you needed to keep your guard up and be careful and at the same time longing for their warmth as you had undeniably missed them so much. Your heart ached for their presences, their quiet comfort and love but you didn‘t know how to ask for, almost feeling awkward and shy in your own home, the walls you had built putting a distance between you that stretched for miles, more miles than you had been running for weeks now.

„Thank you both“ you smile as you step into the kitchen and find the neatly set table in front of you. Cordelia smiles warmly as her hand travels to your shoulder and your heart aches then, the feeling almost unfamiliar now. She serves you up a small portion and your eyes find hers thankfully, knowing why she had chosen what she chose to make tonight. The two of them begin gentle conversation about their days, letting you ease into it as Wilhemina talks about some projects at work, some office gossip and Cordelia fills you both in on the students and what they had been up to. You don‘t really have much to share and so you just sit and listen, occasionally engaging with them, suddenly wanting to know how they had been feeling, realizing you had been selfish with your actions.

After dinner, the three of you ease into more quiet conversation over tea and as Cordelia wraps her hands around the warm mug, the steam drawing patterns into the air, they silently communicate, knowing it‘s now or never. „Little one?“ Mina asks as you blow against the warm tea, meeting her eyes. „We have been meaning to talk to you“ she begins and Cordelia instantly notices your stiffening, how you seem guarded within an instant. „How‘s the working out been going?“ the supreme asks gently and you simply shrug your shoulders before mumbling a quiet „Good“. You didn‘t want to be the center of the conversation, the cause for their furrowed brows and concerned faces. „Do you think it may be a bit much? we rarely see you these days“ she tries, tilting her head a little as if her eyes could get through to you.

But you tense further, remaining silent as you don‘t know what to say, knowing they are right of course but your walls too high to let them in. „Little one, I know you don‘t wanna talk about this but we are worried“ Wilhemina tries, usually never the one to push but unable to keep her concern at bay any longer“. You tense, looking between their brown eyes before you sigh. „I‘m fine Mina“ you try but they aren‘t convinced. There is silence as Wilhemina accepts defeat, realizing when it comes to this you are just as closed off as she is at times but Cordelia can‘t back down, not just yet. „Darling, we‘ve seen the scars, we know you are struggling and we just want to help you“. And while Wilhemina‘s eyes widen, knowing this would drive you further away, you struggle to keep your emotions at bay.

For a split second, you almost faltered, almost accepted their help as you almost fell apart but instead you got up from your chair „Thank you for dinner, I have a class at gym“ you lie, leaving them be as you grab your gym bag by the front door and leave. Wilhemina sighs as the door shuts, not blaming Cordelia but hating the fact that you wouldn‘t let them in. And while they struggled with their concern and how to help you, you ran to the nearby gym, not bothering to put your stuff away as you repeatedly hit the punching bag, over and over again, not bothering with the usual bandages or gloves, completely losing yourself in your emotions as both anger and sadness wash over you, tears streaming down your cheeks as the loud music blasts through your headphones.

„It‘s since the election“ Wilhemina remembers as she stays in the same spot with her girlfriend, their teas having gone cold by now. „I know“ the blonde sighs, the subject having crossed her mind and came up in conversation with her girls for weeks now. „I mean I understand, she‘s young, she‘s a girl and I can‘t begin to understand how much she must struggle with it“ the supreme sighs, knowing her and Wilhemina could deal with these things differently, having went through similar things in their lifetime before. „I don‘t know what to do“ Wilhemina admits with a sigh and the supreme meets her eyes then, raw and vulnerable, knowing those words never usually left the redheads mouth, always the calm and composed one, always a solution at hand. The supreme sighs in defeat, just as lost and helpless as the redhead as they sit in the silence of the dining room, usually filled with yours and their laughter on quiet evenings like these.

Meanwhile you break down completely, all the pain, anger and sadness hitting you all at once as you lose yourself in the workout, punching the bag for hours. By the time you get home you are drenched from rain, mixing with your sweat and tears, not noticing the blurriness of your vision, the blood and bruises forming on your wrists. Cordelia and Wilhemina have withdrawn to the comfort of the sofa by now, the fireplace soothing the coldness they are feeling in their hearts and bones. When they hear the door, their eyes travel towards the hallway, listening to the thump from your bag and shoes. They expect you to head in the kitchen and get a smoothie like you usually do, brush past them with a quick hello before heading in the shower. But you remain in the hallway for a while, trying to catch your breath.

And when you finally step further, you stand there for a moment, watching them together on the sofa, neither of them having seen you as you had arrived so silently. „Mina? Delia?“ you whisper with the last bits of your strength and when they see you standing there, bruised and bloody, tears in your eyes and a guilty expression on your face, it breaks their hearts. „Oh god“ Cordelia whispers as she is instantly by your side, taking your hands into her own as she inspects the state of your injuries. Wilhemina watches in pain as the supreme takes you into the kitchen, hovering nearby as some hope flickers across her features, hoping this may finally be where you let them in.

The supreme takes care of your knuckles with gentle hands as she cleans them, wrapping them in some bandages before kissing them better. She leads you upstairs, soothing you into a warm bath after getting some water into your body and encouraging you to drink up. She washes you gently, ridding your body of the exhaustion and lingering marks, dressing you in some comfortable clothes before sitting you on the bed to get you some tea. Your heart swells at every touch, every encouraging statement and the way she cared for you, a way you hadn‘t let them care for you in a long time. Wilhemina sits on the bed, leaning against the headframe as she watches you, shivering a little. She wants to reach out, hold you but she fears your reaction. But before she can overthink it further, your eyes meet hers, pleading.

And she doesn‘t understand straight away, watching as you crawl to her, slowly and vulnerable, guilty. But before she can encourage you, you move into her arms, letting them wrap around you as she holds you close to her chest. Her eyes close, both in relief and pain, seeing you so broken and sad in a way she never had before. „I‘m sorry“ you whisper against her as she holds you impossiblly closer, scared you would slip her grasp again. „Shh little one, it‘s okay“ she whispers, her lips moving to your temple and pressing a gentle kiss against it. „It‘s all okay now“ she reassures, letting you cry it out, letting the tears flow and the sobs wreck your body as you had let out all the anger beforehand, only feeling the sadness and loneliness taking over you now.

When Cordelia returns with some tea, her features crumble, finally seeing you in the arms of her lover again, shaking and crying. „Oh darling“ she coos, setting the tea down before she sits beside you both, gently running her hands soothingly up and down your back. „I‘m.. so.. sorry“ you sniffle against the redheads chest, the smell of lavendar and vanilla making you feel right at home. „Don‘t be sorry darling“ Cordelia coos as she gently wipes your tears. „I don‘t know what happened“ you admit and they both know you are referring to the last few weeks. „The whole thing just made me so angry.. why do they decide to take our rights? everything we have fought so hard for“ you sigh and they nod, understanding the feeling and how much that must be for you, considering the circumstances.

„I know sweetie“ Cordelia whispers as Wilhemina instinctively holds you closer to her chest. „And I know I can‘t make this go away but we‘re here okay? always“ she reassures and you nod as you lock eyes with the blonde. Wilhemina tilts her head a little in order to look at you „Listen little one, I think this is good, working on yourself and not letting the anger and feelings win but you need to be gentle with yourself, take this slow and take care of yourself“ she speaks, her voice soft despite the urgency behind her statement. You glance at them both, seeing their love and concern, knowing they are right and feeling much more calm with having them know, the walls between the three of you broken, the initial trust back and causing your anxiety to finally ease.

You realize then that you are safe with them and despite neither of them able to fix the world, right there by your side to take care of you and to guide you through the world despite what it may be filled with. And the realisation mixed with your evening before, suddenly makes you incredibly tired. A kind of sleepy that you hadn‘t felt in a while, feeling fully relaxed in Wilhemina‘s arm and holding Cordelia‘s hand. And they don‘t notice at first, continuing to soothe and give you advice to guide you through this until Wilhemina softly nudges Cordelia who had been rambling with ideas and suggestions. And when the supreme notices you sleeping in the redheads arms, so safe and comfortable, even a content smile on your face, she can‘t help but smile proudly, knowing this was far from over, knowing there needed to be conversations held but knowing for now, nothing and no one, not even yourself can hurt you any longer, not as long as you are safe and comfortable in their arms, surrounded by their love and unconditional support, always.

[obsessedelusional]

read your mind

paring ↬ Bella Ramsey x Fem!Reader

summary ↬ you’re a famous singer. you meet Bella at a event. the two of you end up spending an intoxicating two weeks together. one day you wake up and Bella is no where to be found. this turns into a vicious cycle of Bella hitting you up whenever it’s convenient for them. when you finally have enough Bella does something extreme to prove their case to you. requested here & inspired by read your mind - sabrina carpenter

word count ↬ 2.4kish

authors note ↬ I love writing but It’s hard to find the motivation. Anyways slowly working through my Bella request. someone requested this so long ago and I started it and never finished it. thank you ily (also I physically can’t imagine Bella as anything but the sweetest ever so this was hard omf)

masterlist

Feedback & Reblogs are helpful and extremely appreciated ♡

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

Bumping in to Bella Ramsey at an a event and becoming “a thing” was something you didn’t have planned for yourself. Yet here you are, have spent nearly everyday together in one way or another since the day you met. The two of you had been following each other on social media for a while so when you to were invited to the same award show you approached Bella. An innocent hello turned into an intoxicating two weeks.

Bella was in town for press, who knows how long they’d be in town? Two famous celebrities running a muck all over Los Angeles. Of course it becomes public knowledge, paparazzi photos of you guys walking out your home get taken. Neither of you aware until the next morning when they’re plastered all over the internet.

You wake up reaching over to find the bed empty. Unusual but you’re not worried yet reaching for your phone. You have several miss calls and texts. All asking about Bella. Your best friend the first to notify you of the photos and then asking if you seen Bella’s Instagram story. Closing your messages app to open it, notifications ten times more than normal.

Bella just posted on their story, twenty minutes ago. You click it open, you are presented with a selfie of you two Bella took a few days ago. Your sat basically on top of Bella with the biggest smile, they’re smiling too. Your feel your heart drop to your stomach when you read what they captioned it. “my best friend”

“Bella?” You call out loud, excepting them to respond. Only there is no response. You try to phone them, no answer either so you typed out a text and press send.

You: best friend? really?

Only a few moments pass before they respond. So they were purposely ignoring your phone call, noted.

Bella: its better than every one knowing

You: knowing what? that this morning you woke up in MY bed and now we’re just friends

Bella: it doesn’t matter anyways I’m leaving back home

Now your infuriated, you call again no answer.

You: so wtf was the last two weeks then?

Bella: we’re just friends

You: you are not my friend and you never were

Bella: I just need to be alone

—

You don’t warrant that with a response. It’s a rough couple of weeks but you eventually move on, accepting that it’s over. The internet finally moving on from the thought of you and Bella being more than friends. For a while you couldn’t open your phone with out more than half of your notifications being related to Bella. Whatever that was is done. For good.

Or so you thought because as soon as you feel like you’ve stopped thinking about it Bella is hitting you up. Your sitting at your birthday dinner when your phone vibrates. Surrounded by everyone you love so your unsure who it could possibly be.

Bella: happy birthday I miss you xx

Your best friend notices your change in mood.

“You okay?” She asks. You don’t even respond just pass the phone her way, watching as she reads it.

“I thought you blocked them.” She says, quiet enough the others around don’t hear. You can’t form a response because you know whatever comes out will not be what she wants to hear. Knowing damn well you’re about to do something stupid. You take your phone back, shooting her an unsure look at her before tucking it away in your purse. Deciding you’d deal with it later, when you are alone.

—

Later that night when you’re alone you respond with a simple thank you. What was suppose to be a good night was filled with stress thanks to the text waiting for a response from Bella. As soon as your message says delivered Bella is calling you. You let it ring for a few moments before answering.

“Hello?” Bella says over the phone.

“Hi.”

“I missed you.” They say and you physically can’t come up with a response. Sitting in silence forcing Bella to speak.

“I’m sorrry, I never should of ended things the way I did. I need you.”

“As a friend?” You question, referring to the comment that lead to the downfall of the blossoming relationship.

“No I miss you in my life. I thought I needed to be alone but I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” You later find out that Bella is in town wanting to see you. It crosses your mind that it seems they only want you when it’s convenient for them. Against your brain telling you this is a horrible idea you agree to hang out.

It’s akward for a short moment but when Bella is the first to initiate conversation you two fall into the same feelings as before. This time Bella’s time in town is longer. They’ll be around for two months filming. Between your two busy schedules you make time for each other. Bella fills your worried mind with empty promises of being something more than just friends. You let the delusions of a possible relationship influence your decisions. Night and day your at Bella’s beck and call.

Only for the painful cycle to begin again. A month into Bella being in town they decide to exit your life with no warning. Your attempts to contact them go unanswered. Until a week later, Bella shows up to your home with some lame ass excuse about needing to be alone. They continue with this nonsense only to keep calling you at late hours of the night. The two of you only communicate and see each other on Bella’s time.

—

Eventually Bella goes home and just as you had expected to happened, Bellas doesn’t make an effort to make things work long distance. A few weeks pass since the two of you last speak. You pretend you don’t care any more, growing used to this treatment. Swearing one day you’ll find the courage to break it off officially. Only this time you see on social media that Bella is back in town, probably for an award show coming up in a few days. In the past by now, Bella has already slid their way back into your bed. You don’t dare text them first.

Your going to start tour in a week and you know that once that starts there’s no way you’ll get a chance to see Bella. Your tour is a few months long and will have you all over the United States. Eventually the award show passes and it’s safe to assume Bella is home or headed home. Their inactivity on social media not giving you much to work off of. You’re checking for the millionth time when you finally get a sign of Bella being alive, a short test message.

Bella: miss you gonna be in la soon

You read the text over and over again, only fueling you with anger. Bella was in town and not once did they think to reach out and suddenly they’re back on the other side of the planet and they want to hit you up. Before you can think about it you send a text.

You: I’m going on tour won’t be here

No response.

You’ve been on tour for a few days now, driving to your second show. Started in Seattle and now your in the tour bus headed for Portland. The first night went smoothly, exactly as you had hoped. Now sat on the tour bus doom scrolling through TikTok, waiting for tiredness to find you. Rolling onto your side and closing the app, opening Instagram. Greeted by a new post from Bella. It’s a black and white photo mirror selfie. Bella’s smiles as they take the picture. A girl stood behind them arms wrapped around Bella’s waist perfectly hiding her face in Bella’s shoulder. The caption a date in the near future.

A mixture of sadness and anger take over, quickly becoming only anger. Bella messages you a week ago about how they miss you. You don’t reciprocate the same energy and suddenly they’re publicly telling the world about this girl. You start feeling sick looking at the photo, blocking Bella on instagram. It’s not enough, so you block their number too. Taking this level of disrespect as a sign to stop whatever the two of you were completely.

When you arrive to Portland, your sad demeanor is noted by the people around you. Even when you go to perform your usual happy self is no where to be seen. At one point you cry on stage, as you sing on of your sadder songs. It gets video taped and plastered all over social media. You singing as tears fall down your face. Fans speculate what it could be about but nobody knows what caused truly your sadness.

After that hiccup it was rough for a good few days. Being surrounded by your team, always being busy, and not wanting a repeat of that night things get better. You alow the hustle of tour sweep you up so you can pretend to forget. The tour goes by quickly, last show left has you back in California. One of your biggest shows yet in your hometown, Los Angeles. You’re filled with excitement as it’s completely sold out.

Only for it to all come crashing down when you’re about to go on stage in a few minutes. One of your team members is cheery about the fact that your friend Bella is in the crowd, not knowing about your past with them. You had done such a wonderful job at avoiding Bella. Limiting your exposure to social media because you figured what you didn’t know, couldn’t hurt you. Allowing a team member post for you, you couldn’t entirely disappear like you wanted.

“Please don’t let them back stage.” Is all you say, your team member nods face filled with confusion. Not questioning your request and leaving you alone. Your sat in front of a mirror, looking at your self. So excited just a few moments ago, now you look miserable. Bella somehow succeeding in ruining another important day in your life.

—

You’re thankful for the large venue because wherever Bella is you can’t see them. Your eyes stay towards the front and rarely venture past the first few rows, doing everything in your power to not see Bella. When the concert finally comes to an end, your exhausted more than normal. Sweating bullets as you head back stage. Your team surrounds you momentarily, congratulating you and sharing a brief moment of excitement over your coming to an end.

You feel bad because you can’t be as excited as they are, eventually getting away from everyone and finally finding solitude in your dressing room. As you walk in your greeted by Bella stood there, looking as uncomfortable as possible.

“What are you doing in here?” You snap, turning your back to Bella fully prepared to leave and get security.

“I know I’m crossing so many lines right now. I have no choice you blocked me. I just needed to talk to you.” Bella speaks, your stomach dropping at the sound of their voice.

“Yeah because you were wasting my time. You only wanted me when it was convenient for you. Then your proudly posting som girl on social media. Not even a week before that you were trying to see me.” You snap, finally letting all your anger out on the source.

“That was a promo photo for the show coming out this month. It was a ploy to get people interested enough to watch my story, if you watched it. There was several stories about it.” Bella explains, a slight grin on their face.

“Doesn’t change anything. Why are you here?” You retort, feeling stupid but not wanting to show it. Bella’s grin disappears before they respond.

“I want to make this work, I miss you.” Bella admits.

“What even is this? One day you say you want to be alone, the next you just want to be mine. I can’t read your mind.” You say, sighing exhaustion heavy.

“I’m serious this time. I promise.” Bella says, looking at you. Trying to gauge your feelings on this.

“I can’t believe a single word that comes out from your mouth.”

“What can I do to prove it?” Bella asks, you don’t have an answer. Bella pulls out their phone suddenly typing away.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Bella grins, causing you to move closer.

“Check your phone.” Bella adds. You change your course and head for where you left your phone at the vanity. As soon as you unlock it you have a dozen texts from friends and family upset that you didn’t let them know about your relationship with Bella.

“What the fuck did you do?” You ask.

“You’re gonna have to unblock me on Instagram to see.” Bella smiles, laughing softly.

“No thank you.” You snap, switching to your private account. Typing Bella’s name into the search bar and seeing a recent Instagram story. When you open it a picture Bella took of you months ago, when you two first met. Your hand reaching for the camera, in the middle of telling Bella to stop. The smile in your eyes making it known that you don’t want them to stop.

the caption: my girlfriend

“Are you kidding me?” You groan, facing Bella.

“I thought that’s what you wanted..”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you right now. The whole world thinks we’re together now and we’re not.” You say, mostly thinking aloud. You look over to Bella who’s just sat there laughing at the situation.

“Don’t fucking laugh. This is a big deal.” You snap, stopping Bella.

“It’s not too late to post lol just kidding you all have been pranked.” Bella respond causing you to crack a smile.

“No.” You say.

“Oh so you wanna be my girlfriend now?” Bella teases.

“If I say yes you’re gonna have to make up for being such a dick head.” You respond.

“Anything.” Bella responds, desperately.

“I want to go on a real date. Out in public.” You demand.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Bella eagerly smiles.

“Not today. You’re coming home with me tonight.” You smoke, ready to pick up where the relationship ended. Hoping that you aren’t making a huge mistake.

[spicybylerpolls]

All of the teenage relationships are sexualised from the get-go. Stancy's introduction was all about the trope where bad boy Steve just wants to try getting good girl Nancy into bed. Jancy is also immediately sexualised when Jonathan takes the spicy photos of Nancy. And Steve and Robin make booby jokes before Vickie is even introduced. Meanwhile for Stobin, we only really got Steve thinking that he and Robin would be a cute couple but no sexual innuendos whatsoever, hinting that the relationship will not happen because there is no sexual attraction there.

It is initially a bit different for Mileven/Lumax/Byler because they are actually kids at the start of the show. But Season 3 makes such a big fuss about them not being kids anymore and it is coincidentally also the time some of the characters start to make innuendos themselves. Which also means that who they liked as kids is not necessarily who they are eventually attracted to as teenagers.

In comparison to the other teenage relationships, Mileven seems to be a relationship free of any sexual implications. In Season 3 Hopper wants the door certainly not open because he is afraid of them kissing - however, Mike and El never overtly express a desire for sex, neither with each other nor for other people. Milevens like to say "Oh, this means that Mike and El only have eyes for each other" although the sexual implications are completely absent from their relationship.

Of course you could argue that the characters may be demi/ace, but I think especially in Mike's case it is made clear that he is not acespec but a repressed queer (with the Season 4 Episode 1 montage as biggest proof). Some people also insisted (and still insist) that Will is ace too because they are subconsciously so afraid to see any sort of queer attraction on screen. (As a person on the acespec myself, I really long for the day where asexuality is finally done justice on screen. But Stranger Things is clearly a show where they actively contrast lack of sexual attraction and actual sexual attraction with each other. Unfortunately, 99% of media does not include intentionally-accurate representation of asexuality, so right now Stranger Things is not under the obligation to be the show that is suddenly an exception)

This is all so true! People try to argue that Mike and El "making out all the time" is evidence that they have interest in sexual exploration, but A) the show very clearly draws our attention to the fact that he takes his hands off her when they're making out, B) Mike doesn't express sexual interest in the Phoebe Cates, the hot girl of the day, like his friends, C) the show draws our attention to how unnatural it is by having Hopper comment on it, and D) this doesn't progress or increase in any way. In fact, it decreases. In S4, they have one fairly awkward kiss and never show any signs of desire for each other. Instead, the emphasis is on Mike not being able to say ILY to her.

For a ship that's allegedly the main ship, this is all pretty unusual. When was the last time you saw a ship with teenage characters who "only have eyes for each other" yet never show even the slightest sign that they want to explore the physical side of things, even if only 2nd base? It's like Mike got to 1st base and immediately wanted to abort mission and backtrack and never do anything straight again.

Some Milkvans will say it's because Mike is a gentleman, but... come on. Lucas is a gentleman with Max, and the show goes out of its way to emphasize his sexual desire multiple times. Dustin and his girlfriend aren't even in the same state, and she's a devout Mormon, and still there's no doubt that Dustin would round all the bases multiple times in a heartbeat if he got the chance.

Meanwhile, everything between Mike and El looks like a weird, unnatural performance. And they don't even kiss in the desert!

Especially considering the fact that Mike and Will, who are allegedly just platonic friends, do show signs of physical desire. This is what they're like JUST touching arms ever so slightly. Get a room.

[arctic-hands]

Was anyone going to tell me about Libro.fm or is an audiobook service that lets you actually own DRM-free audiobooks that can be downloaded into MP3 format AND you sync up your payment to your favorite book store too good to be true?

[mandobatemans]

intrigue (Tom Wambsgans x f!reader)

warnings: infidelity, fingering, unprotected piv sex, soft!dom tom, size kink kinda, biting, greg, do NOT have sex with the head of conservative news organizations irl!!!, i am a shivcel fr anything negative abt shiv in here i didn't mean it ily siobhan 🫶, NSFW UNDER THE CUT

word count: 4,740 (i got carried away)

A/N: this is loosely based on s4 e7 but there's no real timeline so it probably takes place like somewhere around season 3 or 4? this is my first succ fic so...enjoy 🤗 & also this took me SO long to write i'm so deeply sorry to anyone who was waiting

also posted to ao3

Tom had never been a fan of the whole “open marriage” arrangement. When he thought back to that fateful night (fateful night…who else would say that about their wedding night?) what he remembered most was the look on Shiv’s face when she told him that she wanted an open marriage. On their wedding night.

It was more for Shiv anyway. Tom rarely thought about actually acting on the arrangement, whether it be out of love for Shiv or loyalty to her father, he wasn’t sure. Sure, he had kissed someone here or done oral there when high on coke, but he had never actually fucked anyone else.

Something was different, though, tonight. Firstly, they were hosting a Waystar/ATN event at their apartment, and despite being chairman of ATN, he wasn't even sure what the evening was for. Shiv had told him about it last minute, casually mentioning it as they were being driven to work, like it was dinner at Logan’s rather than hundreds of media moguls and politicians to host. Actually, dinner at Logan’s felt equally, if not more, important than tonight. A better equivalent for how nonchalantly Shiv had mentioned it would be Connor inviting them somewhere.

Secondly, Shiv had suggested, outright, that they both find someone to hook up with at the party tonight. Earlier in their bedroom, after getting dressed in silence, Shiv had turned to Tom while putting her earrings in to share the idea. He knew she would be acting on it whether or not he did, and why shouldn’t he? It had been a while since he had gotten laid and was verbally (and physically) assaulting Greg a lot more as a result.

Did he just pick someone? How did you approach someone and say, “Hey, I’m in an open marriage but I’ve never actually done anything more than get my dick sucked with anyone else…anyway, let’s fuck!”

Tom fidgeted with his glass as he surveyed the room.

Despite your personal beliefs and the endless human rights violations that Waystar was affiliated with, their (and by extension ATN) events were some of the most lavish you'd ever attended. As a political journalist, it was standard for your company to send a journalist or two to whatever soirée the Roys were throwing. Everyone took turns, and this time you had drawn the short straw. It hadn’t been too bad so far, you thought, although perhaps you were jinxing yourself. You had kept to yourself mostly, chatting with other journalists you frequently saw around the city on assignments, snacking on the hors d'oeuvres, and listening to the ridiculous conversations political and media bigwigs were having.

You had been to an event hosted by the Roys before, but they were usually at ATN, Waystar, or some expensive venue. Being invited as a member of the press to Shiv Roy’s apartment felt strangely intimate. You were certain this was some calculated business move on the part of one Roy or the other, but you honestly didn’t really care. Whatever drama was happening within Waystar Royco was contained within the Roy family. You were simply here to supplement a piece your coworker was writing on the atmosphere of this political season.

It was only an hour into the party when you had collected all the quotes and interviews you needed, and sampled almost all of the hors d'oeuvres. Your boss expected journalists to stay for most, if not all, of the night for these things, in case some political bombshell were to happen. You were pretty sure nothing too monumental was going to happen in this room full of suits, especially with all of the Roys notably absent from the festivities. Even Shiv, whose house it was, looked like she wasn't paying any attention to what was going on in her home. In fact, she had been in the corner all night, talking to some prominent New York and D.C. women, important enough that you knew their faces but not important enough for you to attach any names to them.

You checked your phone for the time. You could probably get away with leaving in another hour if you made up some family emergency as an excuse for your editor. Even another hour seemed like ages. Maybe you could re-interview some people? Speak to some guests whose quotes would never make it in the article just to kill time? Sighing, you opened your messages, thumbs hovering over the chat with your editor, putting your journalism degree to use by brainstorming an excuse to get you back home in your bed before ten o’clock. When you turned around to pace while you typed (a nervous habit), you found yourself face-to-face with one of your hosts.

It felt like a fucking cliché. Literally bumping into someone at a party? If one of your writer friends wrote something like this, you'd tell them it was bullshit and things like that didn't happen in real life. Yet here you were, inches away from–

“Tom Wambsgans, Chairman of Global Broadcast News at ATN.” He introduced himself, reaching out a hand for you to shake.

You returned the handshake, grateful that he wasn’t offended by you bumping into him. “I know who you are.”

“And I know who you are.” He paused. “That sounded stalkerish, didn’t it? I meant, I know who you are because I’ve read your articles.”

“You have?” You were surprised. Your company and your articles in particular were considered left-leaning, the very opposite of the stories ATN ran.

He nodded. “Gotta keep up with the competition. I’ve seen some of your features on the network, as well.”

“Really? I would have thought you would just watch ATN all day,” you teased.

Tom made a face and then shook his head. “No, no, no. Plus, I wouldn’t really call any of our journalists ‘journalists’ so much as pretty faces. You do your own research and look good on the camera. That’s impressive.”

You raised an eyebrow and Tom’s eyes widened, processing what he had just said.

“God, I do sound like a fucking stalker.”

You laughed, “Just a little bit.” You let him cringe for a second, then smiled to reassure him. “No, but I’ve seen some of your interviews since you took over ATN. You look good on the camera, too.” You paused, before adding, “Maybe that makes us both a little stalkerish.”

His eyes lit up at your response, earning a genuine laugh (the first one that night not faked for some suit, he noted).

“Uh, sorry for bumping into you. I wasn't looking where I was going,” you explained, waving your phone in your hand for context.

“Ah, cell phone. The curse of the twenty-first century.”

You furrowed your brow involuntarily for a moment. He wasn't how you expected the spouse of a Roy to be like. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren't yet sure.

“I’m making a huge ass of myself, aren't I?” He sighed. “I’ll leave you to the party–”

“No! It’s okay. Stay,” you heard yourself say. It was Tom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Okay. You found him attractive. And even despite his eccentric comments, you also found yourself wanting to talk to him more. You were, however, purposely avoiding looking at the wedding ring on his finger.

To Tom, it all seemed too perfect. You, for example. He was being honest when he said he had seen and read some of your work and that he enjoyed it, and he did sometimes watch other networks to get an idea of the competition, but he had left out the fact that there was something about you in particular that made him watch the entire segment when you happened to be on air. And the fact that sometimes he'd scroll through your articles online and imagine you reading them aloud to him. But he wasn’t a stalker. And now you were here, in his house, on the night that his wife had all but shoved him into the bed of anyone that he wanted.

But still; one pleasant, slightly flirtatious conversation didn't mean you wanted to ride off into the sunset with him. Or, more accurately, go upstairs with him.

He scanned the room for Siobhan. Although it had been her suggestion, and he knew she had acted on the arrangement before, he still felt like it was somehow a trap. Like she’d hire someone to hide behind the bedroom door that night and catch him with his pants down (literally) to use as blackmail.

But sure enough, she was across the room, laughing at something some lobbyist had said, and resting her hand on the other woman’s arm slightly longer than a casual touch would last.

The longer he thought about it, the more confident he felt. If you were interested, he wanted to spend the night with you. And maybe more. But he was getting ahead of himself.

“It's kind of loud over here. Come on,” he gestured with his head toward the opposite corner of the apartment, one not occupied by any guests save for an elderly politician snoring on the couch.

You followed him, nodding when he asked if you wanted another drink before picking a champagne flute off of a passing server’s tray. He handed it to you once you reached the corner, your hands touching during the exchange. It seemed like even more of a cliché to feel sparks fly at this tiny touch, so you ignored that, as well.

“You host these kinds of things often?” You asked, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of your champagne. The room was full of very important people, though none of them seemed to be talking about very important things. You couldn't quite wrap your head around why a high-level executive who had married into one of the largest media conglomerates was wasting his time talking to you (flirting with you?), but you had seen stranger things in this city.

He grimaced and shook his head. “No, no. I’m usually just a guest.” Tom laughed and took a sip of his drink. “And not a very important one, at that.”

“I’m sure that's not true. I mean, how many people watch ATN? And you’re in charge of what airs or doesn't air.”

“1.89 million,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink, “Outside of the office, nobody’s really worried about what I think.”

“Not even your wife?” You stopped after you said the words, giving your brain a second to catch up with your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean any disrespect, I–”

“No, no, no, no, it’s okay,” he assured you, reaching out to rest a hand on yours consolingly. Tom leaned in closer so only you would hear him, unnecessary considering the secluded corner you two were in.

“But no, not even my wife.”

Your eyes darted to his hand atop yours, suddenly aware of how large his hands were. They almost completely covered yours, and they felt so comfortable and right there, like–

“We have an open marriage,” he suddenly said.

“Oh.”

Tom seemed disappointed with this reaction, quickly removing his hand from yours and adding, “That’s just to say that, our marriage is, uh, unconventional, so her not caring what I have to say isn’t that unusual.”

You were still processing the feel of his hand on yours, much less the revelation that he actually might be flirting with you and that it actually might go somewhere. By the time your thoughts caught up with you, it seemed like he was about ready to excuse himself and go scream at his reflection in the bathroom.

“Well, I’m sorry about that,” you responded, mirroring his gesture from before and resting your hand on top of his to comfort him. “You don’t deserve that, really.”

He scoffed. “You don't know what I deserve.”

You looked up at him, taking the time to absorb the look in his eyes that revealed just how much he was going through.

“Uh, Tom?”

Tom rolled his eyes and turned away from you to snap at the source of the interruption. “What, Greg? Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”

“It’s just–well, Shiv is leaving with someone.” The taller man gestured at the door, where sure enough, Shiv was weaving her way through the crowd toward the elevators with the lobbyist from earlier, her hand guiding her by the small of her back.

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. “Well, Greg, we do have an open marriage. So, everything’s fine. Now, scram.”

Greg looked between the two of you and hesitated for a second before nodding and disappearing back into the bustle of the party.

Tom turned back to you. “That’s Shiv’s cousin, Greg. I’ve sort of taken him under my corporate wing, so to speak. Showing him the ropes and all that.”

You nodded, finishing your champagne.

“Well,” he said.

“Well,” you echoed.

He paused for a minute, though it seemed to last much longer than that. “You’re writing an article about this party, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded, unsure of where he was going with this.

Tom leaned in, lowering his voice. “What would your editor say if you got a behind-the-scenes look at the party?”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Of course, you'd have to come upstairs…” Something shifted in his tone. You were well aware of what the change implied, and you’d be lying if you said you didn't want to jump at the offer. This wasn’t you, though. Sleeping with a married man? On top of that, not just any married man, but the host of the party that you were covering for work. It sounded like a problem you’d encounter on an Intro to Ethics exam. But any moral qualms you had about the issue were pushed out of your head when you registered the way Tom was looking at you.

“Of course,” you repeated, nonchalantly, setting your empty champagne glass on a nearby table.

Something flickered in Tom’s eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Wambsgans,” you replied, gesturing dramatically.

Neither of you spoke for the entire walk away from the excitement of the party to the quiet of Tom’s bedroom. It looked much like you had expected it to look: modern, chic, and impersonal. You were sure Tom (or Shiv) had some personal items somewhere in the house, but the bedroom was so clean and styled that the only indication anyone slept or dressed in there was some of Shiv’s makeup and jewelry strewn haphazardly on the vanity.

When he had closed the door behind you, Tom stepped closer to you experimentally, as if he was afraid you'd flee like a wild deer if he moved too fast. You stepped closer as well, which seemed to give Tom the permission he was looking for. Within seconds, his mouth was on yours, his hands cupping your face, all tongue and teeth. There was hunger and desperation in the kiss, but it was hypnotizing, beckoning you deeper and deeper. He was almost doubled over to reach you (god, he was tall), so you shifted your weight to stand on your tiptoes.

Tom broke the kiss, leaving you with a confused look on your face.

He shed his suit jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Next, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Tugging on the length of his tie, he loosened it enough to undo a few buttons at his collar, revealing an inviting expanse of chest hair.

“Turn around,” he told you, snapping you out of your male-stripper-fantasy gaze.

You did as he said, something in his tone going straight to your core. You felt him run his hands from your shoulders down your arms, then down your hips and up to your waist, the action bunching up the fabric of your dress. He moved your hair to the side, pressing hot kisses to your neck that made your eyes roll back.

“Can I take this off?” He whispered, his lips trailing up to your ear.

You nodded in response, trembling momentarily under his touch. Tom unzipped your dress, helping you push it down your body and step out of it. He unhooked the back of your bra without moving further. It occurred to you then how wrong this was, to be sleeping with someone else’s husband in their own bedroom, but to your surprise, you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the heat of Tom’s gaze on your bare back. You took your bra off the rest of the way and discarded it on the ground next to your dress. Once in only your underwear, you turned back around to face him, watching his eyes follow every curve of your body to drink in the newly exposed skin.

“Wow,” he said, simply, reaching out to grab you by the hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re gorgeous.”

Grinning, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, cradling his face in your hands. You felt him smile back into your kiss. Before you knew it, he had you pressed against the wall, totally enclosed by his larger form. He went from kissing you on your lips to your neck to behind your ear to your chest, as if he couldn't decide which spot deserved the most attention or for how long.

One of his hands slid down to the waistband of your underwear, the cold metal of his wedding ring a shock against your hot skin. You made eye contact with him as his hand slipped between the fabric and your skin cup your cunt, whining when you felt his touch. He seemed to get off on that, capturing you in a kiss again at the same time he slipped a digit into your wet heat. You were too hot; you pressed your hand to his chest to stabilize yourself and pushed your underwear down your legs and kicked them off. Tom smiled at this, getting right back to pumping his finger in and out at a pace that almost made you melt down the wall.

It was probably a power trip thing, you thought, you totally naked and him almost fully clothed. You didn't mind because it was kinda hot, but it wasn't what you had expected from Tom based on the unassuming, Midwestern image of him that was circulated in columns and by the Roys themselves. But, then again, you hadn't expected to find yourself in this position at all when you left your apartment earlier that night.

The pace of his fingers felt so good, so intoxicating, that now that you had him, you needed more of him.

“A-another one,” you whined between kisses.

When you opened your eyes to look at him, Tom had a smug look on his face. Sure, it was arrogant, but it turned you on, so who really cared? “Yeah?” he asked, “You want another one?”

“Tom,” you hissed, gripping onto his shoulder as his finger curled in just the right way that it made your legs go numb.

The look remained on his face, but he added another finger nonetheless. Tom appeared to inhabit both extremes when it came to sex: he really wanted to pleasure you but he also really wanted to do what he wanted. Luckily, those two wants aligned.

He was making you feel so good that you needed to have more of him. Your kisses got sloppier, each so desperate to be further molded with one another that your tongues tried to push impossibly further into the other’s. Tom shifted his hand so he could angle his thumb to rub slow, tantalizing circles on your clit as he continued to pump his fingers. Your grip on his shoulder tightened–you feared your fingernails would leave dents in his skin–but like so many other things tonight, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could feel the pressure rising in your middle, your cunt clenching around his fingers in anticipation of your impending orgasm, but then it stopped.

You opened your eyes that you hadn't realized were squeezed shut to look at Tom, who had his hand in front of your face, fingers glistening with your slick. “Open,” he encouraged. You obeyed, accepting his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean with a ‘pop.’ He stared at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Sit.”

There was authority in his commands, but you didn’t fear him; from the short amount of time you had spent with him, you knew he was at his core a sweet man. You would admit to yourself that you had been curious how his awkward, nervous energy would translate into the bedroom, but once alone, he seemed to be a different man.

You watched him strip off the rest of his clothes eagerly, smiling up at him once he rejoined you on the bed totally naked. He must’ve noticed you staring, because he asked: “Do you want me to put on a condom?”

You shrugged, shifting your eyes back up to his own. “No, it’s okay. I'm on birth control.”

He sighed in relief. “Good. I don't even know if I have one in here.”

“Then why’d you ask?” You laughed, encouraged by the smile that crossed his face when you did so.

“Seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. If you said yes, I would’ve sent someone to go get one or borrowed one from–”

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“Just fuck me already.”

“Alright. If you say so,” he teased, leaning down over you to kiss you. Both your lips were red and puffy from all the kissing and some biting, but it didn’t matter. You could feel his cock pushing against your stomach from the angle, so you reached down to take him in your hand and pump his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your skin, face buried in your neck as he pressed kisses to the every inch of available flesh, “Fuck…Can I?”

“Please,” you responded, noticing a little desperate hitch in your voice that you ignored. Tom licked his hand and cupped your sex with it, running the pads of his middle fingers through your folds a few times to collect the wetness between your legs. Gently, he guided his length into your opening

inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort before bottoming out.

You should’ve expected his dick to be big from his height, the size of his hands, his nose, whatever, but you hadn’t considered just how big. It was quite a stretch to take him fully, but he gave you all the time you needed to adjust and get comfortable. When you were ready, you bucked your hips up into his to give him the okay.

Tom took your permission to move and ran with it, grabbing your left leg and placing it over his shoulder before pressing you down further into the mattress with his body weight so he could thrust into you at a deeper angle.

You lifted your head to meet him to return to making out, the sensation of his tongue down your throat even more erotic now that he was inside of you, as well.

His thrusts were deep but not as aggressive as he had been with his fingers. He wouldn’t vocalize this, or even admit to himself that he was thinking this, but he wanted this to last. As much as it was supposed to be a hookup–emotionless sex–he found himself wanting it to happen again, despite his attempts to push those thoughts deep into the recesses of his mind.

One arm was thrown around Tom’s neck, hand gripping a fistful of his hair. Your other hand went down to your clit, beginning to rub circles to match the pace of his thrusts.

“You wanna cum again?” He teased, “Again, when I haven't cum once?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, slipping your finger down from your clit to lightly stroke the length of his cock that wasn't fully inside of you.

He let out a moan, eyes twinkling as he snapped his hips a little harder, snickering when you gasped in response.

Tom caught you in another kiss, resting his weight on his forearm that was positioned next to your head. You arched your back up into him, urging him deeper, which he obliged. “Touch yourself,” he said, disconnecting his mouth from yours just long enough to give the command.

You smiled into his lips, rubbing your clit again as his thrusts became sloppier and jerkier. He was holding on until you came again, despite his earlier cockiness. The moment he felt your walls tighten around him, he let go, spilling inside of you with a grunt.

He pulled out, rolling off of you to lay beside you.

Tom was still catching his breath, and you watched his chest heave for a few moments. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “Everything alright?”

You smiled, nodding and reaching over to kiss him again. “I'm good, yeah. You?”

“Perfect, actually.” Tom smiled back at you. He found himself lost in the moment, lost in your eyes, lost in the connection you two had just had, and it was too much for him. Quickly, he sat up, ready to change the subject. “You need to clean up?”

You furrowed your brow at the sudden shift in his demeanor, but going along with it nonetheless. Despite him just having been inside you, you didn't feel like it was your place to mention the change. “Yeah. Can I?” You asked, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.

“Yeah. Oh, yeah. Go ahead. Towels are above the sink.”

You flung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, heading toward the bathroom. “I’ll just clean off real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“No, no, no. I mean, you can stay the night. If you’d like, that is. I could call you a car, though, if I’ve made some awful faux pas and you don’t want to look at me for another–”

“Tom.” He focused on you again after his brief spiral. “I would like to stay.”

He grinned. “Great, that's great.”

“Just let me–” You waved your hands around your lower body, “–clean all this up.”

“Yeah, of course, sure. I’ll be here.” He added the last part in a quasi-sing-song voice.

At the sound of the shower turning on, Tom rose to locate his clothes and try to clean up. He pulled his boxers back on, taking his dress shirt, pants, & jacket to be thrown into the hamper. They really should be dry-cleaned, he considered, but found that he couldn’t be bothered. As for your clothes, he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with them, so he laid your dress across a chair in the bedroom and left your bra and underwear on the floor. He was still considering whether he should pick them up or not when you came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your torso.

Once you had dressed in your undergarments again and Tom had given you an undershirt to sleep in, you started to wonder what all this meant. If it had just been a hookup, why were you staying the night? You had thought you’d feel dirty and disgusted with yourself, spending the night in someone else’s bed with someone else’s husband, but you didn’t. You didn’t know what that said about you, what it meant that you were perfectly comfortable talking into the night with Tom, both laughing and sharing stories long after you had agreed to turn the lights off and get some sleep. That almost made it worse, you thought, that it wasn’t just sex. That made it dangerous.

After you had drifted off, Tom spent a few minutes watching you sleep. He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, watching the worries of the day wash off your face while you slept. He knew it was wrong to be more comfortable in this bed with you than he was with his own wife. But that was something to deal with (or repress) in the morning. Here, now, with you wrapped in his and Shiv’s bedsheets, your form against his chest rising and falling with his breaths, he could pretend it was meant to be like this.

@swiftcession @greenwrldsz @zirrocom @lukas-matsson @ledtassoo @bluecruz97 @rita-lean @grainyimag3

[frenchublog]

I'm sorry for not being creative enough lately. Too much work, too much going on. I try my best, I love to draw after all but it's been difficult to stay motivated and focused. I'm taking a small break to give me room to breathe. 'wish I could do more 🥲 but life gets in the way. I kinda feel like I'm letting people down. Social media is consuming my mental and physical energy. I'm so sorry 🫠 (a lot is happening and it is linked to why I still can't take commissions to this day for instance)

Thank you for understanding ily all, take care!!🌻

[cherryfleischer]

ten people I'd like to know tagged: tagged by @souvlakicocaine ily <3

last song: got into jiafei remixes again... god is a woman jiafei remix

favorite color: baby blue

last book: re-read notes from the underground by dostoevsky (the narrator is literally me)

last movie: lethal weapon 3 (7/10)

last tv show: silo

sweet/spicy/savory: addicted to sweets 🍭

relationship status:

last thing I googled: chow yun fat (chinese actor)

current obsessions: learning mandarin, nightcore mixes from the early 2010s, yume nikki, physical media preservation

looking forward to: visiting my older sister and her fiancee who live in another country. I miss her so much I haven't seen her since march

@bladefucker2 @02nd @littlemiss-stardust @oxypill @stims-4-breakfast @tvrded @bunnyycocaine @bloodstaineddeer @lachonk @labcorp

[bqstqnbruin]

See You Again

I'm actually posting a fic for the first time in seven months aka the first fic I've finished in seven months peace love teaching

anyway, I wrote this for the lovely @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange! I got to write for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten but I've never written for Nico before, so I hope you like this (I was fully inspired by my own mess of a life)

Edit since I’m a dumbass thank you to @kat-hearts for reading this first and being amazing ily 😭

One of the characters, Nat is nonbinary, and I did my best to make the reader gender netural, which I haven't done before on either account, so I hope I did it justice (if something is glaringly wrong, please let me know!)

Warnings: I was mean with the ending? A little? Also, some swearing, drinking, almost physical fighting

Word Count: almost 2.8k

_______________________________________

“When was the last time you saw him?”

You tried to shift through your memory to figure that out. In person, the last time was sometime in the first week of December about two years ago. Thinking about him, which thankfully didn’t count, would involve you giving a much more recent answer, way more recent than you would really like to admit. “I don’t remember.” 

“Well,” your roommate Nat says, looking down at their phone. “I have bad news.”

“Fucking hell,” you moan, tilting your head to hit the back of the seat of the Uber. You knew what they were going to say before the words even started to come out of their mouth.

“Nico is going to be there tonight. With all the guys.” You let out another groan, the Uber driver giving you a scowl through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry! Jack didn’t know he was coming, or he would have told us way before we got ready.” 

You stare out the window, trying to think of all the ways that you could get out of this situation. You already paid for the Uber and didn’t want to pay for another one. You weren’t about to go somewhere by yourself, especially since the bar you were heading towards wasn’t within a reasonable walking distance if you were to go somewhere by yourself, and no way was Nat going to leave with you without Jack, and Jack, of course, wasn't going to leave without his teammates. 

“We can go back right now and I’ll tell Jack to have fun with his team instead,” Nat tells you as if they could read your mind. They put their hand over yours, trying to give you any sense of calm that was setting into your panic. “We do not have to be around Nico.” 

“What kind of person tells someone they like them but not enough to date them?” you mutter, knowing you and Nat have had this conversation many times on your kitchen floor, drunk and crying together at 2 in the morning. They had introduced you to Nico one night after a game when the team went out to celebrate. They had been dating Jack for about a year at that point, meeting him through his brother at Michigan and reconnecting when they both realized they were going to be in New Jersey together. Quinn had used the reasoning of, “he won’t know anyone in the state,” only for everyone to realize later that he knew Jack had been smitten with Nat since they met. If only you had been so lucky. 

You had known of Nico, obviously. How could you not? He was the captain of the Devils, the team you grew up surrounded by, the number one draft pick in the sport your roommate never shut up about. He covered your social media feeds without you really wanting them to and everyone you knew talked about what a great game he had the night before. You couldn’t escape the idea of him, no matter where you went. 

When you met him that night a few years back, there was something about him in person that you were drawn to. He had been just an idea to you, not someone you could think about as being real. You spent that entire night with him, your friends either wandering off or you too enthralled with Nico to notice that they were there. Nat and Jack were heading back to your place before last call, and you were left knowing that you had to see Nico again.  

He asked if he could kiss you, making you melt as his hand gently snaked its way to your cheek, pulling you close when you said yes and covering your mouth with his. You waited for his text the next day, anxiously checking your phone until he finally did after 3 pm. From then on, you told each other everything, texting each other whenever you could, him calling you and heading over to your apartment whenever he didn’t have an obligation to the team. You fell hard for him and you had believed that he felt the same about you. 

“The kind of person who doesn’t know what they have until it’s gone,” Nat tells you, trying to pep you up. “Hey, we can find you a guy that is just as hot as Nico tonight.” 

“I’m gonna move to Ireland and isolate myself with the spuds.”

“Act like you can be away from me for that long,” they tease, earning a laugh from you. “I’m serious, though. Tell me what you want to do, or who you want to do, and Jack and I will make it happen.”

You didn’t want someone just as hot as Nico, you wanted Nico. You hated the fact that there was more than one time that you had pulled up his messages on your phone, part of you unable to delete that conversation thread even though you knew it would be the healthy thing to do. But you weren’t known amongst your friends for doing what was best for your mental wellbeing, so you kept them, going back through the conversations you had in the four months you were seeing him. The last text was what haunted you the most, him telling you that he was going to be back in Switzerland for the summer and that he ‘didn’t want you tied down to one person’ while he was gone.

He said he would text you when he was back. 

He never did. 

There were multiple times when you wanted to text him, but you never did, either. 

“Yeah,” you manage to choke out. “Let’s do it.” 

You spend the rest of the ride in silence, trying to think of where in the bar you would be able to hide from Nico so that he wouldn’t see you. The guys were already inside, Jack telling Nat about 10 minutes ago that they went to start drinking as fast as they could. 

The bar was somehow muggy inside, as if the beer itself hung in the air rather than the sweat of the nearly one hundred drunk people that were crowding every square inch of the floor. Jack was easy to spot for Nat, his five foot eleven frame not the largest of his teammates, but still distinct enough that your roommate had left your side within seconds of entering to be with their partner. 

So much for finding you someone tonight. 

You tried to stay away from him, closer to Nat and Jack as best as you could, but they kept wandering off from you. The last thing you wanted to do was go with them when they were both on their way to drunk and have a history of doing slightly illegal things in the bathrooms at bars. 

You had to find someone to talk to. Any person who looked interesting. Any other guy on the team who you were friends with, but that was really only Jack, and that was really only because he’s dating Nat. Your phone was your only comfort, finding a table that had been pushed up against the wall and hoping that there was something you could doom scroll on that would distract you from looking towards Nico. 

He had the right to do what he wanted at the bar with his teammates. You weren’t together. 

“You ok?” you hear during a lull in the music, pulling you away from your phone for a moment. You didn’t know who was standing in front of you, one of the newer guys from the trade deadline that Nat definitely hadn’t introduced you to. He was waiting for you to respond, looking like he had wanted to sit down with you.

“Yeah, just, not a big ‘going out’ person.”

He lets out a nervous laugh, a smile that sends a jolt through your system that you hadn’t felt in a while. Since Nico, if you were really willing to be honest with yourself. “Me neither, honestly. I’m just here because I didn’t have anything else to do.” 

“I got dragged here with my roommate so they can be with their boyfriend,” you tell him, gesturing to Nat and Jack trying their best to sneak out of the bathroom, Jack’s shirt buttoned wrong, both of their previously neatly styled hair in a mess that you only saw after hearing them the night before. 

“So that’s the infamous Nat,” he says, taking the seat beside you. You nod as he continues, “Jack never shuts up about them. Not that Jack shuts up about anything or anyone, ever, but especially not Nat.” 

“I always knew he was a good one,” you tell him, introducing yourself so he knew you as more than just, ‘his teammate's partner’s roommate.’

“I’m Timo.” 

You spent the rest of the night bouncing between the table and the bar with Timo, him buying you every drink you wanted. There was something about him that was different, but you couldn’t focus all of your attention on him. 

He was talking about his time in San Jose while you were waiting for your next round of drinks. You couldn’t focus on a word he was saying, Nico within your line of sight talking to a girl. A really attractive girl, you might add. You felt your heart drop, feeling a lump in your throat forming faster than you could lie to yourself about that scene having no effect on you. Naturally, Nico would talk to other people. You hadn’t talked to him in two years, let alone seen him in person. Just because you couldn’t get over him, no matter how hard you tried, that didn’t mean he didn’t get over you.

“And then I got traded here, and I love it, so far,” you tune back into Timo, who is suddenly much closer than you remember. It’s just because the bar is loud, people are starting to crowd for drinks, and, fuck, you have to admit, he’s pretty hot. 

Nico was still watching. 

Timo took your hand, leading you off to the table where you were before, the drinks in your hand probably not ones that you needed to begin with. His free hand snaked its way to your waist, pulling you close to him. You could feel your heart racing faster with every inch he got closer to you. You wanted him to kiss you. 

You thought you did. 

“I’m sorry,” you pull away right as his lips were about to meet yours, tears starting to form in your eyes, leaving the drink he bought you in his hands as you ran from him. Your breath catches in your throat while you try to find Nat and Jack, just praying that they weren’t back in the bathroom or too intoxicated in general to help out. 

You heard Timo calling after you, somehow, through the volume of the music and your own drunkenness, breaking through and getting to you. You didn’t want Timo calling your name, you wanted it to be Nico. 

You needed it to be Nico. 

“Hey, hey,” you hear, feeling a familiar hand gently place itself on your arm. You turn around, Nico’s face a mixture of concern and fury. “What did he do?” 

“He, he,” you stammer, the tears falling faster the more you looked at him, every memory you had with him suddenly rushing back into your mind. “He didn’t do anything. You did.”

You yank your arm from him, trying to find anywhere to be in the building that didn’t have one of Nico’s teammates looking at you causing a scene. You knew he was following you, calling your name again and again over the music. People were starting to stare, but no part of you cared, trying harder to not let the tears that were burning your eyes fall down your cheeks. 

Nat and Jack were nowhere to be seen, the rest of Nico’s teammates trying to figure out what was going on when you burst through the front door of the bar, the cold fall air hitting your face as soon as you did. You let out a sob, trying to steady yourself against the wall of the building, sliding down to the ground while people waiting to get in tried to figure out if they should help you or if you were just another drunk person having some sort of meltdown that was none of their business. 

“Hey,” you hear, a soft voice coming from above you. “I’m so sorry if I did something wrong.” Timo slid down next to you. “I read the situation wrong, I thought you were also into me.”

“I am, I just,” you start, trying to think of what to say. 

“Hey, what the fuck did you do?” Nico yells, pulling Timo off the ground. “What did he do to make you cry?”

“Nico, stop,” you let out, Timo looking both confused and terrified by his new captain’s hand on his shirt collar. “He didn’t do anything.”

“What the fuck did I miss?” Timo asked, slowly trying to back away from Nico staring you down. 

“Why can you talk to other people and I can’t?” you ask him, feeling your sadness turn into anger. “You had no issue not talking to me for the last two years.” 

“I’m gonna go,” Timo lets out, barely loud enough for the two of you to hear and sneaking away before you could notice. 

“You didn’t want to talk to me,” Nico counters, taking a step towards you. “But you wanted to talk to TImo instead?”

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?” 

“You never texted me. You’ve spent the entire night avoiding me. You think I didn’t see you when you were by yourself on your phone?” 

“You were in Sweden. And you could have come up to me and talked to me, what was stopping you? Oh, that’s right, your new girlfriend.”

“Switzerland. And she’s not my girlfriend. I haven’t seen anyone in ages.”

“Wherever you were, you weren’t here,” you tell him, your back against the wall. How long had it been since he had last seen someone? There was no way you had been the last person he was with. “You told me you didn’t want to be tied down while you were back home. You didn’t even want to talk to me, because if you did, you would have.” 

“You’re joking,” he scoffs. “You think I didn’t want to talk to you? Every fucking day I have thought about how our conversations would go when I saw you after you get home from work. I would think about you telling me about your day, about everything you would tell Nat, or whoever you were seeing at the time. Every single person I saw in the last two years, I wanted them to be you.” 

You didn’t know what to say, letting Nico’s words sink in. “Then why didn’t you text me when you came back from Switzerland?” 

Nico took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the sky. “Because I thought there was no way someone else wouldn’t have realized how amazing you are. There was no way I could be someone who you thought was worth waiting for.” 

Nico takes a step towards you, his hand gently taking yours. This was a moment you had been thinking about since he left for Switzerland two years ago. You knew he was going to kiss you, having you pinned against the wall of the building. His free hand cupped your cheek.

“There you guys are!” Nat interrupts, them and Jack clearly having just finished up doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. Nico steps away from you, clearing his throat, the red in his cheeks so noticeable there was no way even your roommate wouldn’t comment on it later.  “We’ve been looking for you, for um.”

“Long enough,” Jack finishes their sentence, a stupid smile covering his face. You knew he was lying, but no part of your brain was letting you focus on that. Nico leaned against the building, his arm up over your head. “The uber’s almost here. Are you ready to go?”

No. “Yes.” 

The three of you leave Nico standing there by himself, Nat and Jack falling asleep in the Uber as soon as it gets on the highway. 

You check your phone for the first time in a while, a lone notification popping up on your phone that hadn’t been there in almost two years. 

‘Nico, iMessage.’ 

[coldresolve]

fun facts about the torture in moneymakers while were at it. spoilers if you're not caught up

the torture is not done in any attempt to gather reliable intel, induce compliance or as a punishment to deter unwanted behavior, none of which are things that torture can do. instead it is perpetrated for the sadistic gratification of the torturer, and for a profit incentive

except for that one time in pt34 when it was done to induce fear and make conrad's escape physically impossible, under the guise of teaching him a lesson. davin knew what he was doing

conrad complying with demands is always, always under duress. i wouldn't call that obedience, personally

you'll notice that conrad's fear of renee has turned into contempt and disgust, a subtle nod to the fact that torture victims dont typically build a whole lot of positive associations with their torturers

conrad gets more resistant over time, not less. but im sure thats just because he hasn't been beaten into submission yet

davin talks pretty openly about exploiting the media as a way to get attention in that one scene. not only a comment about the media's sensationalism of torture/violence, but also a hint to the fact that it can be exploited lol

theres not a whole lot of talk about sophisticated torture, in fact i think i even wrote a thing where renee admits that it doesnt require a whole lot of finesse to hit people. or maybe im just misremembering. its supposed to be in there tho

speaking of renee, i dont know if you noticed, but he isnt doing so well. could this have something to do with his actions? the world may never know

that part where renee thinks about the way we culturally view perpetrators... he comes to the wrong conclusion and you as a reader are not only expected to realize that on your own, but also think about what thought processes led him to be wrong. but also ive been throwing around ideas as to how i might add another perspective about it in the future so theres that

i have a whole tirade about the concept of being 'broken' coming up. spoilers ig

davin is doing just fine. davin is a machiavellian. davin, get this, also acts as an argument to the fact that the insidious parts of torture aren't in the people who act it out, but in the people who facilitate it. the people who act it out just tend to be useful idiots. sorry for the diss renee ily

anyway yeah so. that whole thing about davin building a strenuous trust with conrad in the beginning by seeming like the lesser of two evils was intentional

something about that darn profit incentive might be meaningful to the theme here but alas this falls beyond the comprehension of my feeble mind (aka spoilers lmao)