#it was easier to suck it up back when i didn't have many issues

[daisukekambehateaccount]

negativity ahead be cautious

is feeling indescribably shitty every single day even more so than normal for the past three months seasonal depression even if there are only 2 seasons in your country

[mayapapaya33]

I had sort of hoped Keyleth would have matured and grown past her anger at the Matron over the past 33 years but I suppose it's in character that she hasn't fully dealt with her grief yet. And the Vorb probably isn't helping her issues either. It just sucks because I think a lot of the fandom take Vox Machina's grief fueled blame and fully accept it as fact when the reality is that Vax's situation is almost entirely his own responsibility. The only other person with any remote culpability is Percy. And even Percy is only really to blame for accidentally Killing Vex, not for Vax's choices. But even if you want to hold Percy accountable for Vax's choice in the tomb as well, that still doesn't make him responsible for Vax's death. Vax could have lived a long full life as the Matron's Champion, as shown by the Delightful Purvan Suul and his companion Galdric.

Vax was a borderline suicidal, self-sacrificing character from day one. He always threw himself into danger headfirst regardless of the cost to himself. Between Percy accidentally setting off the trap creating the circumstances for Vax trading himself to the matron during Vex's resurrection, all the way up to Vax CHOSING to come back as a revenant after being disintegrated in order to help defeat Vecna, the choices have always been his. Especially him, fate touched as he is. Ultimately, Vecna killed Vax and Vax killed Vax. I think it's easier to blame the Matron than to be angry with Vax for being who he was.

The Matron maintains the balance of life and death. She accepted Vax's offers both times, do you think she should have refused? The first refusal would have meant Vex's death, and the second refusal would have meant Vax possibly just staying dead after being disintegrated, and not being there to fight against Vecna, which was truly an all hands on deck situation. There was no time to fuck around with a resurrection ritual that might not even work, the whole world was in danger. One life, a life that was already lost, is a small price to pay to save the world. I'm pretty sure Vax would agree with me!

Frankly, Vox Machina were super lucky and privileged to have so many successful resurrections between them. I think they got a little spoilt and entitled about it honestly. Most people have never even met someone who's been resurrected before, they did it like 20 times! Vax was disintegrated, he chose to come back as a revenant to fight Vecna, protect the world, and help his family. An opportunity he was only given due to his allegiance to the Matron. She gave Vox Machina and Vax extra time together and a chance to help save the world.

For those of you shouting "what about true resurrection!?! I hear you, and Matt said it's complicated and didn't elaborate lol. Personally, I think the Matron has quite the special a barrier of entry to true resurrection, if the spell even works at all in Exandria. I think they touched on it briefly in Calamity but I've forgotten. I can only imagine what insane ritual Matt concocted years ago that he's had plenty of time to work on since. Part of the Matron's whole thing is that everyone must eventually go into death, sure they can avoid it for a while, so some resurrection is fine (the DC gets higher every time), but eventually enough is enough and it's time to go. Hence why necromancers and liches are her enemies.

At any rate, I'm really proud of Keyleth for going to therapy and I hope she goes back when all of this moon business is over because she still needs it and that turtle lady in the frog seemed great lol.

[crafty-butch]

Embalmed

A short story by me (tw: body horror, self-harm kinda)

Did you know embalming isn't actually that common, worldwide? I didn't. Sure, there are some famous exceptions–looking at you, pharaohs–but embalming random schlubs is mostly a US thing. Plenty of religions ban it outright. Islam, Judaism, several branches of Christianity…

Bear with me. I promise I have a point.

Anyway, I've got no opinion on what God wants us to do with our corpses. I've never been religious. I'm still not, weird as that sounds. But I'm with Islam, Judaism, and several branches of Christianity on this one. Just skip the embalming and bury the body before it starts to rot. It'll be easier for everyone, on the off chance someone decides to bring them back.

No, this isn't a joke. Look, I'm not saying it's likely, okay? I know the stats. Less than twenty confirmed resurrections in the last half-century. Maybe twice that many ambiguous cases. Actually ambiguous, that is. Just because someone is flaired “unconfirmed” on r/Resurrected doesn't mean there's a chance in Hell they're legit. So, yeah, I get it's unlikely. But let's jump back to embalming real quick.

You know how it works, right? At least vaguely? Blood goes out, formaldehyde goes in. Well, that's step one. Step two is sucking all the non-blood fluids out of your body cavity and swapping those for embalming fluid too. They also sew your mouth shut, stuff some cotton in you to stop any leaking–I could go on, but I won't. Like I said, I don't have any issue with embalming from a treatment-of-the-dead-body standpoint. I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for embalming Great-Aunt Edith, here. I'm just saying, if the dead body becomes an alive body, you can see why there might be some issues.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say: “It's magic, dumbass.” And, yes, it is. That's why waking up with your mouth sewn shut and your body stuffed full of formaldehyde doesn't immediately kill you again. Doesn't make it fun, though.

Okay, maybe I shouldn't focus on the mouth thing. I'm sure it's happened to someone, but my sister cut the stitches out before she brought me back. She was thorough like that. I just feel like it's easier to picture, you know? Mouth won't open and hurts when you try. The rest of it's harder.

I don't blame my sister for not dealing with the formaldehyde. I know there wasn't much she could do about it. If she'd had more time, I'm sure she could've come up with something, but once you've dug up a body, you're kind of on a (ha) deadline. If someone sees you, you're done. So I get it. I've had a lot of time to think it over, and I'm still not sure what she could've done better. Other than just letting me stay dead.

I don't want to sound ungrateful, but…maybe I am? A little bit? I know that's an awful thing to say. It's not like I wanted to die. That's not what this is about. It's also not about how super amazingly great the afterlife is. Sorry to disappoint, but I have no idea. I don't remember anything between the hospital and waking up on the grass with a chest full of embalming fluid. Does that mean there's nothing after? Or did coming back just give me amnesia? No idea. I leave that one to the philosophers.

My sister probably would've had an opinion.

She was always…

Let me tell you about my sister.

She was great. I'm not saying this because of what happened. She really was incredible. Almost perfect. One of those people who's so smart and so kind and so beautiful and so goddamn humble but not so humble you can even accuse them of humblebragging, to the point where you can't help but hate them a little for making you look so fucking shitty in comparison and then you feel like the biggest bitch in the world and that just makes you hate them more.

Okay, maybe she wasn't quite as perfect as all that. After I came back, I learned some things. Turns out she was just as much of a fuckup as me, in her own way. She was just better at hiding it. But I never met that version of her. In my memories, she's still just Little Miss Impossibly Perfect. I wish she'd told me about any of it. Maybe…

No, that isn't fair. Why would she tell me anything that could get her in trouble? Maybe I would've hated her less, or maybe I would've just gone and told our parents. Even once we grew up. Would I really have been able to resist knocking her off that pedestal? I'd like to think I would, but come on. Look how I'm talking about her. And that's after she sold her soul for me.

If you're thinking right now that the world probably would've been better off with her instead of me, you're not the only one. Don't worry, I won't take it personally. Or maybe you're not thinking that at all. I've been told I project onto other people.

Maybe you're just confused about why I'm talking about her in the past tense. After all, it's not like selling your soul kills you, and you've probably never met someone unensouled. Or maybe you have, and you know exactly why I'm talking like this. Probably not, though. There are a lot more unensouled than there are people who were resurrected–people sell their souls for all sorts of reasons–but there are a lot more fakers too. Pro tip: if someone claiming they sold their soul gives any sign of caring about literally anything, including whether you believe them, they're lying to you.

So, yeah, she's still here. I know I keep saying it, but I'm not religious. I don't think my sister is burning in Hell while her empty husk sits up here, and if you ask me, that's just a real convenient excuse not to help the person who's still right there in front of you. Whatever a “soul” actually is, there's clearly someone here.

Sorry, I might be preaching to the choir here. And I don't want to sound like I think every religious person thinks that way. I just made the mistake of talking to my parents this weekend, and I'm still a little mad. Or a lot mad. Look, I know I'm getting off topic. Just, real quick, I want to explain.

She's still my sister. I'm not denying that. I keep saying she was this or she was that because she's not really any of those things anymore. She's not cruel, but she doesn't care enough to be kind. I'm sure she's still smart, but she doesn't actually want to use her smarts for anything. She barely eats if I don't pester her into it. I don't think she'd have an opinion on what my lack of memory says about the afterlife anymore. But, hey, maybe she would. Maybe I should ask.

Anyway. None of this is really my point. My point is, waking up next to your own open grave is freaky enough when you're not choking on formaldehyde. It took weeks before I was mostly bleeding blood again. (Yeah, I checked. Don't judge. You'd be curious too.) I coughed up embalming fluid for months. My insides still don't feel quite right. I could get them checked out, but I'll be honest with you. I don't want to know. I haven't been anywhere near a doctor since I got back.

I know, you don't think this will happen to you. No one you know is the right combination of smart enough to wade through all the bullshit to figure out how to revive you and stupid enough to go through with it. And you're probably right. But I thought that too.

[amysgoblinhorde]

The Anti-JK Rowling: Praise for TJ Klune

I am going to overshare. I do not apologise for this.

Way back in the mid 1990s, I was I young girl in school and I was badly suffering the years of harassment and abuse by my peers and also by the grown ups who should have cared for me. I was told I brought it on myself by being weird, I was told I was an attention seeker (yes, and can't you hear me cry for help?) and it was actually the lip curling disdain of the teachers that broke me the most.

I began to feel like maybe I did deserve it. I must have been so unpleasant, so hideous a person that others could see me for what I was and the universe itself was punishing me. I developed Body Dysmorphic Disorder, I kept checking mirrors to see if I could glimpse the monster, mocking myself whenever I thought I looked normal.

Anyway. It all came to a head in my third year, when I became admittedly a bit of an edgelord. I sucked in the darkness and screamed it out.

I was sent to a hospital school. This was a little tiny class of mixed ages for children who needed extra help. It was better here, I made friends - but I also learned a dark lesson here that no child should have to -

There is an appropriate face for trauma.

And I didn't have it. I was not the cute cancer kid. I was not the brave smiling little trooper. I was told by some of the staff in the hospital school that I didn't really belong there, I should consider myself lucky. One teacher said that those of us who were there for mental health issues were weak, we had failed. If we were braver we would be in a normal school.

I would have been 11 when the first Harry Potter book came out, though I didn't read any until sixth form college. I wanted to know what the fuss was about, a movie was being made.

I thought they were fun, as many did. But I can't pretend it didn't hammer an extra nail into my heart as it yet again told me that there was an acceptable face for trauma and it was not mine.

Harry Potter. He was written to be a good looking lad, sporty. Tragically dead parents that he didn't remember anything about. Suffered abuse, but it didn't break him in any inconvenient way. He was a tragically brave little hero with his friends the impossibly clever poster girl (who incidentally was very pretty when she wanted to be) and the token dweeb who appears to have mostly be written to prop up the other two.

Then we have Neville. His story was genuinely heartbreaking and yes it was addressed, but not really. His horrors are not something we talk about. Let's not go there, let's treat it like a dark embarrassing secret. But what a brave lad he is, standing up to his friends! Not for, you know, visiting his brain damaged parents and living with his abusive grandmother. No, no, it's the friends he stands up to. Brave silly Neville. Not the hero, of course. But isn't he brave?

And at last we come to TJ Klune. I read The House in the Cerulean Sea only recently. And wow. I laughed and cried in equal measure.

As with Harry Potter, we have a collection of magical youths, learning to navigate their powers as they grow. But the differences are diamond sharp, the focus instead on all the right things while still being joyful, fantastic and often hilarious.

How can this brilliant man get it so right in such a simple way? It's obvious, when you think about it.

All traumatised children matter.

There is no right face of trauma, least of all on a child, but hey let's not leave out the grown ups. At 40 years of age I thought I knew this, but I must have kept my younger self in a little cell in my mind (ahhh but she's different, she was a monster. We don't talk about her ...).

I was David. And I was Lucy. Why is it so much easier to forgive myself when I see myself as a yeti?

Children will lash out. Forgive yourself that. Children can be little weirdos, little balls of chaos and anger. That's okay. And no child's suffering should be ignored in favour of another, no matter what they look like or what they have done.

No child should be expected to be a poster boy hero, and no child should be chastised if they do not perform trauma right.

So yeah ... Thanks for reading until the end. And thanks to TJ Klune for making a 40 year old woman feel so many things, the strangest of all being forgiveness and acceptance of her 13 year old self.

Also, Chauncey is handsome as crap.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Mafia AU - Family Business

After my last post about the Blouin family in the Mafia AU for Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack I wound up going on a little extra ramble over on my twitter (calling it X is too weird for me) about how the family business got started. I figured I'd post it here too to make it easier to read and reference later.

It all started with a small business run by the beautiful Alma Blouin and her husband ???

I'd call him [Redacted] but that alias is taken already, so let's stick with what was written in the family tree, shall we?

I was inspired by Makes me Smile, an engaging story written by Sauce that takes place in the SunnyTime Town AU, that it actually started as a family-run traveling carnival that was a cover for more shady business. The family name and business wound up taking up some permanent roots in St. Valens because of Marceau.

There were more opportunities in that crime-riddled city to do backrooms deals, score illicit substances, and other stuff like that. St. Valens was a city rife with crooked cops and people with dubious morals. Sadly, this hasn't changed in present day. If anything, it's only gotten worse. It just can hide behind a shiny new coat of paint and colorful smiles thanks to the Blouin family taking over so many local businesses under their brand name of SunnyTime LLC.

Lucy Connolly is actually responsible for the SunnyTime brand, which is one reason why she kept her last name even after marrying Marceau Blouin. Since she was young, she wanted to make it big in the city, really clean up the town. She succeeded in making it big, but somewhere along the way she got sucked into a world full of sin and vice where her formally black and white view of morality was blurred with many shades of gray. She's still trying to do the right thing, particularly for her family and people she wants to protect, but sometimes she found it was necessary to do morally questionable things to do it. It was a slow corruption of innocence in a sense.

In a way, Jack gets his more twisted view on right and wrong from Lucy, as Marceau is a bit more up front about how messed up the criminal underworld is and their involvement in it. Jack tries to keep things as "friendly" as possible if he can help it, so to speak.

Marceau started off the business in St. Valens with an entertainment club. You had to know the right signs to get access to the good stuff they didn't show on the menu, stuff that could get you thrown in jail if you didn't have the money to pay off the cops.

One night, Lucy stopped by the club that had suddenly got so popular, thinking it was entirely legitimate, and it led to that fateful first encounter between her and Marceau.

Marceau didn't think he'd be staying in St. Valens long, even if he was trying to take advantage of the place for as long as possible, but Lucy was invested in the city, as it was her hometown. She was friendly and outgoing, and she knew a lot of people there. She grew up with them.

Lucy had a good sense for business, which places would be good to snap up for a song. She knew about the issues with many local gangs and how they intimidated local businesses into giving them a cut of their earnings to not get roughed up. She wanted to stop that sort of thing from happening so that innocent people could live their lives without fear.

Which is why the Blouin family in the present does take care of the citizens of St. Valens and stomp out more unsavory practices like human trafficking. Essentially Lucy wanted justice and went vigilante. (Insert Joker reference/joke here.) When it became clear that not everyone she tried to save was good, well…

That led into her corrupted world view and a more "ends justify the means" approach.

Marceau had been taught to watch his back and stand on his own, not having the best home life. In a sense, Lucy taught him to care more about others, that he could have someone he could trust to watch her back, and he taught her how to not let others take advantage of her and those she cares for.

Really, in the present day, the Blouins own a lot of businesses in a variety of sectors, from entertainment to scientific research to home electronics to weapons manufacturing. They're spread out across not just the SunnyTime LLC brand, but plenty of sub-companies with different names that the average person might not realize is owned by them. The SunnyTime brand has become a known trustworthy across the country and are spreading out slowly internationally.

Well… technically the family business is known internationally, just not in any public circles, and not under any brand name. Marceau alone has committed quite a few international crimes, though no one has been able to pin anything on him publicly. Lucy does a good job of keeping their public facing image squeaky clean, and she won't anyone hurt or take away any of her family.

Now that Jack is in charge, it's his turn to take care of the family and the business. Despite his issues with human touch, both them, and his sunshine, are in good hands.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[remnantglow]

can you talk about how you made the costume please 🙏🙏🙏

:D sure!!! putting it under cut bc it's a lot lol

when i got the idea i had absolutely No clue as to how people even go abt cosplays like this, so step 0 was obviously One Billion Youtube Tutorials (this one - it's in polish but has eng subtitles - was my best friend <3 but there's really sooo many for every little aspect of making armor cosplay i owe them my life)

anyway. proceeding. assume every step takes a fuckton of trial and error and at least 3 failed attempts

REFERENCES:

collected all the covers where u can see mb's suit well, some fanarts that interpreted it in ways i liked, the 2 previous mb cosplays i found

PLANNING:

little to no planning (bad idea. btw.)

MATERIALS:

regular long-sleeved shirt+pants+cycling gloves+fanny pack. (sorry murderbot. but the armor piece over its crotch literally looks like a fanny pack)

the armor's made out of smth called EVA foam (similar to yoga mat in terms of texture/stiffness), had to order it from a cosplay-specific online shop

heat gun (i was lucky bc my dad's an amateur handyman and turned out to already have one) bc EVA foam's much easier to form+less absorbent when heated

contact glue (also known as contact cement) for glueing the armor pieces whole, superglue for details here and there

straps (the kind u use in backpacks etc)+plastic buckles+velcro. so much velcro. i'm never hand-sewing thru velcro again

wood glue+smth called glossy universal lacquer (p sure it's just car paint.) for painting

transparent plastic mask + rit dye for dyeing it (bc i couldn't find one that was already dark 😔)

tape+cling wrap for patterns

MAKING PATTERNS FOR ARMOR:

okay so. you wrap [Given Body Part] in cling wrap (yeah just regular kitchen cling wrap). put tape (i used duct tape at first but switched to masking tape bc it's cheaper) all over. draw, roughly, the shape you want the armor piece to be. cut urself out, cut away the excess edges, bam! pattern. like these:

(the chest piece was the tough part. i wanted the characteristic rounded shape so i didn't use cling wrap there, it was a lot of trial-and-error with cutting shapes out of paper, putting them against my chest, adjusting things, rinse&repeat.)

(also, the helmet - for the face shield i got these v cheap plastic masks that were advertised as lawn mowing masks (???), then tried to dye them black with Rit Dye for synthetics. that was a Whole Ordeal & my best try still turned out too see-through & more orange-tinted than i liked, but i was out of time so (shrug emoji). & for the pattern, i put on the mask + a beanie before wrapping my head in cling wrap dkjfgn)

i cut the patterns into shapes that could be flattened & copied them onto paper (to be able to transfer them onto foam more easily):

ACTUALLY MAKING THE PIECES:

the annoying part: outlining all patterns on the foam and cutting them out with a box cutter. This Sucks. then, shaping them with the heat gun. This Doesn't Work As Well As It's Supposed To. then, glueing the pieces together with contact glue. This Takes Ages.

(& it's like. near-impossible glueing them so the seams don't look terribly obvious 😭 i'm sure there's a way to cover it up well, but the method i tried (foam clay) worked Eh at best)

oh right also the. thingy around the neck. that's just a tube made out of some leggings i was gonna throw out. filled with a bunch of cotton i stole from a pillow. improvise adapt overcome

ATTACHING IT ALL:

That's Velcro, Baby ���� it's either glued onto the foam or sewed onto the straps Everywhere. it's how the forearm & thigh & lower leg pieces close, how the chest & back pieces connect, how the face shield's made removable. Velcro All The Way Down.

the 2 exceptions: the thigh pieces are attached to a belt with some straps bc they kept sliding off; & the tiny armor pieces on my feet have a loop of string glued on the inside that i just pulled my shoelaces through

PAINTING:

the issue with EVA foam is that it absorbs stuff v easily, so before painting it i had to prime it (aka cover it in 2-4 protective layers of wood glue). then for actual painting, i sprayed all the pieces with 2 layers of universal lacquer (outside on some cardboard ofc). here it is all drying in the garage (bc it stank 💀):

and that's it!!!! done!!!! a bit over a month of work in total :]

[rowanyx]

So in the Adventuring Party, Brennan asked Beardsley whether there is a world in which Kristen gives up being a Cleric.

Mechanics-wise, I understand why the response was a no. That kind of big change would have a lot of restructuring to do, from the character sheet to minis to even plot changes, which would be difficult mid-season like this. (See Riz's sub-class change from Inquisitor to Arcane Trickster happening now, rather than when we actually met Pok)

Story-wise, though, I respectfully disagree. In fact, I posit there is many a world in which Kristen could change her class.

The big one, I think, would be Paladin. Especially either Redemption or Oathbreaker. After all, you could easily argue that this whole situation (i.e. Cassandra seeing Kristen not putting her priesthood first, dying, and the new mysterious voice that taunted the party with the rotting corpse of the god Kristen already failed) cumulates into exactly the type of description for an Oathbreaker (going back on their word and then joining up with some evil entity instead). And, well, after two gods dying, one you've very much stated to want to be good for but can't get yourself to do so, sounds very much like the type of person that would seek Redemption. If not for themselves, at least for others.

And this could also work to show sort of backslide into the Applebee's family drama. After all, we know Bucky just started as a Paladin himself. He's probably not high enough leveled to have a sub-class of his own, but doesn't Redemption fit? The kid who was forced into Kristen's old role, who is already going around trying to save his classmates from Hell? If Kristen did switch to Paladin, they would most likely share classes (something like Gorgug's Artificier track, school-wise). A perfect opportunity to flesh out the relationship there, either to save Bucky from Mac and Donna or have him 'save' Kristen.

Of course, these are just two of the easier paths to see.

Porter did want another Bad Kid in his classes, didn't he?

Maybe Kristen finds she desires a guide and becomes a Totem Warrior Barbarian.

Maybe Kristen decides that just because her parents suck, doesn't mean the whole bloodline did. This causes her to delve into old records and come out of it as a Path of the Ancestral Guardian Barbarian.

Another idea, given the Buff Kristen movement, is a Fighter. Especially the training and power describing a Champion or the fighting spirit of a Samurai, to lose so many gods and keep going.

Or maybe she finds the issue is the evangelizing. That she cannot dedicate herself to bringing others into her path, but still desiring a higher being to help her. There are many to make a Warlock Contract with. She's even living with one, technically, by way of Fig's Archdevil job.

You could even argue for an Eloquence Bard, with all the speeches and now the Presidency campaign.

Or hey, Cassandra was a moon goddess, wasn't she? Maybe even a Lunar Sorcerer.

Unlikely but theoretically possible, she's just desperate to fix something and takes up Artificing. After all, how different can a Battle Smith really be? It's still healing and protecting, right?

Or, let's revisit an old topic. At the top of the game, Kristen was called the Chosen One. We saw that title following her even after leaving Helio. Sol treated her kindly for it, she invented YES! and even reinvented it into YES?. An argument can even be made that that's part of why Cassandra was fixed so easily after clinging to her. But what is that? Where is that power from? Perhaps some new magic awakens in Kristen. That of a Divine Soul Sorcerer.

Just, Kristen, taking a hard look at religion and Clericdom and deciding maybe it wasn't right for her.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

This is a personal post about boarding school experience and its later effects in life. It will be under keep reading so anyone can scroll over it if they don't want to read it. It's mostly for me and the need to express the thoughts I've been having and I need an outlet for that.

I've been reading once again about boarding school syndrome all day since this morning. I don't know why I do this to myself. Why I feel the need to go back to all that as if to check if all the damage is still there. Or like a way to pity myself and then to hate it for feeling sorry for myself once again. It's a cycle. I must have remembered something last night before falling asleep because I found myself today at 10 am reading a research paper on it and then looking up testimonials in reddit.

But the thing is, most of the research is done on English boarding schools and as much as the overall experience is similar, there are so many nuances in the differences that exist.

I vividly remember looking out the window and watching my parents get in the car and leave. It was Sunday evening and they had the car parked on a smaller street in downtown where I was left to stay. The next day was the first day of school and I was 11, starting 5th grade.

I read that in cases of children going to boarding school, a lot of them remember in detail the moment the separation took place. And it's true even if it's been almost 20 years since then. That's when my stomach issues began. Of course the cause was emotional stress, but that didn't stop from going to medical clinics weekly to do full check ups when any adult should have realized that I was just homesick. The year after, I began to feel nausea each Monday morning. I used to beg my parents to postpone my return as much as possible so I would only leave home on Monday and arrive an hour before classes would start. For five years I went to school in the afternoon. The nausea became a constant. I would complain on that day, hoping my mother would tell me that I don't have to go to school. But I couldn't understand at that time that my mother was emotionally unavailable and had no idea how to deal with her daughter's real needs.

But I kept going and as years went by, I got used to it and it felt easier by the time I finished high school. When I was already in college, I had forgotten half of my experience and I would gloss over what happened. I would act proud of how fast I had become independent, without needing any help, as if that was a good thing.

Of course that at some point I slowly started to realize that not everything went that well, but either way, that perhaps it was worth the sacrifice if I manage to do something well professionally. Eight years of boarding school meant sacrifices and financial investment. For me to go to the most prestigious middle school (I had to take an English exam for 5th grade, that was unheard of at that time in any other school!), then to the most prestigious high school to receive the best grades which would help to get into the most prestigious university so I can study exactly what I want because by then I found my passion. And I was encouraged. So I worked for it for more than a decade because all the pain had to have been worth it. Yes, parts of life sucks, but perhaps a uni position while I teach and research would compensate for it. But it never did and that entire plan fell to pieces because life doesn't work how I wanted to.

So was all that worth it in the end? Absolutely not.

For years I would think and say that I never suffered bullying in school because my colleagues were nice and for the most part, I had nice experiences. And that's still true. While at the same time forgetting that I also had that other life in boarding school where 17-18 year girls found abuse a form of entertainment.

Bullying is such a common occurence but it gets worse in boarding school because you can't get to any space that feels safe. You can't get home to your own room and to your own parents who might notice something and intervene. In boarding school you have to sleep in the same room and next to the same bed as your abusers. You take showers next to them, hoping that nothing happens. It's living in constant fear.

All my emotional mechanisms have developed during those years, especially between the ages of 11-13. I quickly learned to avoid any type of conflict because that would mess up whatever aparent peace that existed from time to time. I learned that speaking up and telling the adults responsible meant that I was in more danger.

As adults, those who went through the boarding school experience have trouble maintaining relationships. We become self sufficient because we had to. There was no help so we learned to take care of ourselves. Consequently, we don't need other people, especially if we know they will eventually abandon us. Of course attempts are made because it's in our nature. I've lost friendships because rather than making myself heard and to be an active participant in a relationship, I distanced myself. It's easier than to speak because there's a risk that the other person would certainly decide to break the friendship. Avoid conflict at all costs, even it rots everything from the inside. I'm still actively doing this.

When I told my therapist about these experiences (which I don't think I'll talk about in detail here), she used the word trauma. To this day, I have a hard time accepting it. Because deep down I still don't believe that my experience was that bad to be labeled that way. It's not real trauma if nothing really actually "bad" happens.

It's only bad enough that it infiltrated and influenced all aspects of my entire life. From personal relationships to professional. The latter I used to think it was independent and untouchable of all the things I had going on personally. But of course to realize as an adult that the need for perfection, the impostor syndrome, all are a result of never feeling good enough which stems from the initial abandonment.

I find it hard to accept that some decisions taken 20 years ago without me having any real say in it (I was asked and I said yes because my parents know best) and the consequent experiences that I had to go through have negatively influenced my entire life. For many years I never looked at aspects of my life, thinking that something is not well and should be investigated. I was busy in my 20s with other thoughts without realizing the root cause of why I was doing some things. But by the time that decade was over, it's like everything is crashing down. Piece by piece. Every single aspect of my life had been fucked by that thing my therapist calls trauma.

[vinxhwrites]

I've had this idea in my drafts for a long time and only finished it today because I was procrastinating on the many many assignments I have for this week. I've never written smut before so I don't know what I'm doing, also I'm very sleepy so maybe it sucks, but here it is:

ghost x f!reader x soap

nsfw, +18

word count: 8.2k

cw: nsfw! lots of fluff, tiniest bit of h/c, smut in the end, unprotected sex (don't do it!); alcohol consumption, quite long descriptions of anxieties I guess; also not proofread, sorry

You enjoyed existing in the liminal space between something romantic and something purely friendly. You wanted to get to know every aspect of love, feel it from all directions, in all its forms.

You always wondered what exactly was the tipping point to make one thing turn into another. You wondered if it even existed, if experience could ever be restrained to one set type of relationship, if love could be divided into sections, named and labeled, put into existence and then put to death once things ended, instead of just being the overflowing unconditional force that you hoped it was.

In reality, of course, love can't be limited or restrained by words that aim to define, control or organize it. In practice, you've found it within yourself as something stronger, more nuanced, and freeing than you could've ever hoped it would be.

Ghost first heard Soap refer to you as his "nap buddy" over breakfast one day. He frowned, the first thought to cross his mind being whether the two of you were skipping work to take naps. But Soap went on, telling Gaz about how he'd been creeping into your bed at night when he couldn't sleep. "I feel like a baby, I swear" Ghost overheard him say "she'll just tell me stories until I fall asleep."

It all had started almost two months prior to that conversation, when you bumped into Soap in the corridor one night. You were both sleepy but suffering from insomnia. He shared little tips with you on what usually helped him: walking around, counting sheep, breath exercises; although he admitted this time none of it was working.

You explained your problem was the crippling anxiety that came with the insomnia sessions. You hated being alone with your thoughts during the dark moments of the night, which filled you with unreasonable angst.

You two walked around outside for a while. It was a cold night and you both started to shiver a bit. Soap rubbed his hand on your back in an attempt to warm you, but you concluded it was best to go back to your rooms. Then, as you approached your door, right beside his, you had an idea:

"Hey, I hope this doesn't sound too weird...but would you like to try to sleep with me?"

He smiled at you and accepted the invite.

At that moment, you navigated the perfect moment of sleepiness when rational thoughts can barely form, all that is left are the primary ideas, informed only by your senses and memories. The anxious voices of decent social conduct are far too tired to interject with your thoughts at this point. Anything can seem appropriate, nothing feels real and there is true bliss to be found somewhere.

That's why it felt so natural to curl up in bed with Soap that night, you rested your head on his shoulder and he held your hand. He caressed your hair before saying something nice about the way you smelled and closed his eyes. You surely talked for a bit, in whispers, but neither of you would be able to recall what the conversation was about if someone asked. And just like that, both of you were able to fall asleep in a few minutes of comfort.

It quickly developed into a habit for difficult nights, you now depended on these moments as if they were some kind of medicine. It surely didn't make the issue go away completely for either of you, but it sure was nice to find some comfort in each other's company. Having someone to talk to was a good distraction from your racing thoughts, it was easier to relax when you were with him. Plus, he didn't seem to mind how you jumped effortlessly from one topic to another, talking about anything that came to mind.

Soon, Soap started looking for you even before trying to fall asleep by himself, "preventive care" he explained with a smile when you'd open the door relatively early at night, looking a bit puzzled. You got into the habit of telling him stories, real and made-up, creating nice scenarios for his dreams.

You've let him kiss you a few times, but it never really went much further than that, even though it was no secret that he liked you as a bit more than a friend.

Part of the reason for your contentment with kisses was that both of you were almost always too tired to invest in more than that, but part of it was because of your resistance to changing your relationship dynamic. What you had built with him felt so stable in its tenderness that you were scared to risk losing it.

You've always felt, previously in life, that sex complicated things. Especially with men, especially when you thought they were your friends first, to later be heartbroken by the fact that they really just wanted to fuck you, and had no love to give. You really wished it would be different with him.

But Soap was well-versed in love, he wasn't scared of it. He fully embraced it, actually. Sometimes, while you played with your fingers through his hair, he'd make a point of telling you about his love, the depths of it, how much he could give you of it if you'd let him.

"But it's perfect like this" you cried, anytime he brought up the topic of sex, fearing the inevitable low after the high. Yet, to him sex was irremovable from love, it was the best way he knew how to demonstrate it.

He once told you that you made him feel like a teenager again, saying you were like his prudish high school girlfriend.

The furthest you've gone at this point was letting him finger you one night, just because he begged and whined so much. "I need to feel you" he said, out of breath from kissing you, and you just couldn't resist. It wasn't like you didn't desire him, you were scared doing it would make you want him more. And it did.

He licked his own fingers afterward, which made a moan escape from your mouth. He kissed you again before resting his head on your shoulder. Didn't ask for anything in return. Soap was a lover by definition. And the fact that he respected your boundaries made you treasure him even more.

"You know you can sleep with other people, right?" you assured him, afraid that he'd resent you if you kept him waiting.

"Yeah, but it's not the same thing" he replied.

You were on a first-name basis now, you called him Johnny and, when the two of you were alone, he called you "baby", even letting it slip in front of other people sometimes.

Ghost reprehended you for it one day when he heard it. Not Johnny, you. It was inadequate, he said, and made you apologize to him.

You thought Ghost was scary. It was in a similar manner to which you used to think your linguistics professor at University was scary: in a hot, sexy but very menacing way. You desired his approval and had the impression that you were never going to get it. His mere presence made your legs weak. Maybe it was the authority aspect that messed with your mind, or at least that's what you tried to justify to yourself.

He intimidated you more than anyone, constantly making you feel inadequate just by looking at you. It felt unfair to not even be able to see him properly most of the time, it made you feel naked in every interaction when he could see you so clearly. And on top of that, there was the constant staring: You were always under his watch if he was around as if he was constantly waiting for you to do something wrong. Plus, he seemed to be way more critical of you than he was of others, always questioning you or anything you did, and complaining about your skills or your lack of punctuality (even if you were late by just a minute).

"I think he hates me," you told Johnny one day. "I really do".

He chuckled in response. "He doesn't hate you. He's just really bad at expressing...anything"

"I think he's really good at expressing his hatred for me" you whined back "He doesn't treat you as badly".

"Well, baby, but you can't compete with me!" he smirked proudly "He loves me".

The truth is Ghost loved hearing you say "I'm sorry, sir" in a soft and exhausted voice, it tickled something inside him that he couldn't quite name. It was equally exciting and disturbing to him. But you didn't know that, which is why it caught you by surprise when he showed up at your door one night, as you were about to fall asleep.

Ghost wasn't one to sleep together, not even with the random people he had sex with on occasion. Sleep had always been a solitary activity to him, something he struggled with by himself.

The idea of having someone to sleep with, of it being such a comfort hadn't left his mind ever since he heard John talking about it at the table weeks before. He started to catch himself fantasizing about it, thinking about the warmth of having someone's body so close to him, if it'd be something to shield him from his nightmares. He started to wonder about how soft your skin must feel.

It was a foreign feeling to him, this yearning for something so intimate, but it got to a point where he just had to try it.

"Ghost?" you were confused. He wore sweatpants and a long-sleeved grey t-shirt, and still had a black balaclava on. He closed the door behind him.

"Johnny said you let him sleep with you sometimes" he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable.

"Right" you responded, waiting for him to scold you for it. But he just stood there in silence "Would you like to sleep here too...?" you guessed amused after he let the silence hang for a bit too long.

He took a deep breath, "May I?" he asked.

"Sure, come here." you moved closer to the wall to make space for him. You couldn't help but smile as you felt him sit down on your bed, the heat coming from his body already making you want to get closer.

"You know I don't have sex with him, right?"

"I didn't come here for sex" he answered immediately, sounding almost offended, then sighed "I can't sleep''.

"OK" you said, already regretting having opened your mouth in the first place.

He laid down on his back beside you exhausted and took a deep breath. He removed his balaclava and put it on your nightstand. You noticed you were holding your breath, terrified of ruining this moment of intimacy.

"You'd better not snore" he said in a low voice, adjusting himself on your pillow with a hand behind his head and the other on his chest.

You chuckled a bit, letting yourself relax by his side. "I don't snore." you assured him "at least, not that I know of".

Ghost didn't answer you this time, and even in the dark you could see he had closed his eyes.

"Permission to touch you, sir?" you asked in a whisper after a few seconds of collecting your courage, craving to feel his skin.

That first night, he let you hold his hand while you two slept. It felt tiny and fragile on his. When he woke up sweating in the middle of the night, as he often did, his heart rate eased when he felt your presence by his side, it did feel different.

He avoided you like the plague for three days straight after that night, you thought he'd never look at you again. You thought you've done something wrong and scared him away. In reality, he was scared he'd poisoned himself by getting a taste of something so novel to him, and feared he'd become addicted to it.

He tried to go back to his regular routine, but now the emptiness of his bedroom felt even more evident, his bed felt colder. Then, when you were starting to become at peace with the anxiety that had built up in your stomach at this point, he showed up at your door again.

This time he didn't say anything after you agreed to let him in, feeling absolutely defeated. He laid on his side, his back turned to you. You asked if you could touch him once more and when he agreed you threw your arm around his torso, cuddling him. He felt a goosebump as your breath touched his back.

And he wouldn't tell you, but when he woke up he couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a good night of sleep.

You told Johnny about it the next day as casually as possible, fearing to find a trace of jealousy in his eyes. But instead, they seemed to brighten with delight. "See, I told you he didn't hate you" he smiled.

For the next few weeks, your lieutenant started being kinder to you, albeit in his own way. He stopped reprehending you for stupid reasons, gave you a little pat on the back when you did well during training, and even made you a cup of tea once when he heard Gaz comment that you had a cold one day, putting it in front of you at the table and walking away without saying a word.

You discovered him to be someone more playful than you previously imagined, witty even. The affection you had for him grew stronger with each passing day, as your impression of him morphed into something new, and you just couldn't keep it to yourself. But, unlike Johnny, who loved being touched, Ghost had serious boundaries. Most times you could tell you'd overstepped. He'd let you know it immediately: removing your hand from his face if you touched it, clearly stating "don't" if you ever dared to try to touch his hair, he'd move his hand away when you started to mindlessly draw circles on it with your fingers, and - the only aspect that didn't make you feel completely rejected - pushing you away slightly in bed if you ever got close enough to feel the solid volume in his pants.

For him, physical touch tended to be a utilitarian exchange: maybe he'd get a pat on the shoulder for doing a good job, he'd get kisses and caresses when someone used him for sex, he'd get injured during combat, but your touch was something new: it made no practical sense, there was no transaction to be made, no endpoint, it was just affection for the sake of affection. He didn't know what to do with it.

As your intimacy deepened, Ghost revealed to you that suffered from terrible migraines every once in a while and got into the habit of coming to sleep with you on those days, although he did complain every single time that your constant rambling on different topics made his head hurt even more. He'd retract the statement as soon as you stopped talking though.

One day, when he was in a particularly terrible mood, you offered him a massage. "What good will that do, huh?" he grunted "You just want to touch me"

You chuckled "well, that is partially true, sir" and he smiled behind his balaclava. But you insisted, proceeding to explain how the tension on his neck muscles could be causing the headaches, or at least making them worse, and that was enough to convince him to let you do it.

"It doesn't work if you don't try to relax" you said, pressing your fingers to the base of his neck. You were sitting on the bed, back rested on your pillow, with him between your legs, his back turned to you.

"I'm trying" he mumbled.

"Come on, deep breaths," you said, and you knew immediately that he was probably rolling his eyes. "Come on" you insisted patiently, massaging just the right spot on the back of his shoulders as he let out a low moan, letting his head rest forward.

"See, isn't it better?" you said enthusiastically.

"Stop talking" he grunted, which you did, continuing to massage him in silence.

It took you by surprise when you felt his thumb lightly caress your right ankle, it was a timid touch, and you felt afraid he would stop if you moved, even though that leg felt a bit numb already.

You could feel his body melt under your touch bit by bit, letting more of his weight rest on you. He forgot about his headache, only focused on the delicious slumber that took over his body now.

"You're gonna have to do this every day now" he muttered, eyes closed.

"I'll gladly do it" you assured him, treasuring the way he seemed so relaxed now. You had to fight the urge to put a kiss on his neck with all your might.

That night he held you like a pillow, resting his head on your stomach. You slowly pulled his mask up, waiting to see if there'd be any resistance, but there wasn't.

He shivered when you then touched his hair. It felt soft. You scratched his head gently with your nails and he savoured the foreign feeling that it caused.

"You little demon" he whispered, surrendering completely to your touch.

Ghost knew what love was supposed to look like. He just wasn't that sure about how it felt to receive it anymore. The more he thought about it, the more he was under the impression that he lacked the vocabulary to express it.

Once, when working in complete silence next to him, filling and writing reports, you asked:

"Can you take a look at this, sir?" you held the paper in front of him.

"You know you can call me Simon" he said, eyes still fixed on his papers.

"I didn't actually." you said and he looked at you, you could notice a quick smile appear on his eyes.

"Ok, now you know."

You smiled and he moved his gaze back to the papers in front of him.

"Can you take a look at this, Simon?" you repeated, and this time he looked up and happily took the paper from your hand.

Simon had never really tried anything besides actual sleep with you, and you were terrified of initiating it yourself and getting rejected. But sometimes you could feel the imminence of something, nothing clear or distinct, just the way the silence of the room felt different, a change in the pace of his breathing or a slight shift in the atmosphere. On these moments you'd feel like he could turn you over and fuck you at any second. It fed the anticipation in your chest, but it never happened.

You wondered, at times, if you were somehow able to read his thoughts in cryptic ways and that's how you'd know he was thinking about fucking you.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked in a whisper one of these nights.

"Why do you care?" his response was immediate, defensive. Your fantasies definitely weren't supported by his lack of attention to your romantic attempts.

"Just wondering" you shrugged. "Are you not going to tell me?"

He looked at you, and even in the dark you could tell he was smiling "No".

You prayed that he would kiss you, just a little bit would be enough. But, of course, he didn't.

"I was thinking about you, in case you were wondering," you said casually a few moments later, gazing at his face. You were getting sloppier with hiding your feelings for him, he couldn't possibly not see it.

He chuckled quietly at your response, "Stop flirting with me" he said and you felt your cheeks turn red, "you should get some sleep" he suggested then, shutting off the conversation. And, as if he intended to get you a bit more confused, he lightly caressed your hair.

Sometimes you'd wish he'd just reject you once and for all so you could move on. But the more you thought about your love the more you wanted to cultivate it and share it with him, the same way you felt you could share with Johnny. And if Simon didn't want it, so be it. It felt like, and it was, a big act of bravery on your part. At least you'd be able to comfort yourself on the fact that you loved, it grew and flourished inside you, and it was a beautiful thing.

It got to the point where one of them was occupying your bed almost every day of the week, people were starting to catch on to it. You knew the day would come when they'd both show up and the thought alone made you nauseous, at least until it actually happened.

You held your breath when you heard Johnny's steps approaching your door, even before he knocked on it.

"Come in" Simon said before you could even react.

Johnny tilted his head for a second, looking amused at the scene of his lieutenant cuddling you. He closed the door behind him and took off his slippers, then he approached your bed to lay down beside you.

You held your breath when you saw Johnny rest his neck on Simon's extended arm so nonchalantly. Simon didn't move his arm. You couldn't exactly name what is it that you feared at that moment, the next few moments of silence translated into nervousness within you. Johnny took your arm and casually put your hand on his chest.

"So," he said, looking at Simon playfully "Are you trying to steal her from me?"

Simon chuckled "Didn't know she was yours to steal".

The tension you felt was not shared between them.

"You could've come to sleep with me, lieutenant," Johnny said, he sounded almost offended that Simon would have preferred to sleep with you.

"Back at you, Johnny" he murmured, closing his eyes, making Johnny smile from ear to ear.

You knew your bed surely wasn't made for three, but you managed to make it comfortable. You woke up lying on top of Johnny like a baby, your chest to his, while Simon laid on his side with one arm thrown around you.

That night, Johnny could almost feel his heart flutter and twirl inside his chest. It was perfect. He had so much love to give, he couldn't wait to share it. To him, Love was generous and ever-giving, it was infinite, it overpowered him and he gladly let it.

To Simon, on the other hand, Love was a terrifying force he feared would take over him completely if he let it. He feared it could destroy him, or, even worse, he would destroy it. But, at moments like this one, he couldn't help but let love overflow in his heart, couldn't resist the warmth both of you shared from entering his own body.

Throughout the whole following day, you felt a sweet anticipation for something in your stomach, being only able to think about how nice it had felt to be surrounded by both of them. How you wished you could stay in that state forever, unmoved.

At night, Johnny curled up in bed with you, resting his head on your chest after a tiring day. He seemed almost disappointed to find you alone when he came in, he smiled while he kissed you nonetheless.

He inundated you with questions that gradually turned into whines: did you sleep with him? what do you mean you don't even kiss? what are you doing? don't you find him attractive? why don't you just ask him? do you think we should go after him? why not? let's knock on his door! why not?!

You were able to dissuade him from these impulsive thoughts eventually, stroking your fingers through his hair and recommending that he do the same as you and try to stop thinking about it. It was for the best, you assured him, trying to convince yourself of it, too. He yielded at last, but he wasn't pleased.

"Do you even want me?" he asked with a sigh

"Of course I do." you replied, almost offended at the question "You know I do."

"Doesn't feel like it sometimes" he muttered.

You took a deep breath before taking him through your typical monologue, practically memorized at this point, on your reasons for keeping things as they were - no sex - would be better. The more you talked, the less you found yourself believing in your own words. Still, you tried to make him care for the utter shape of your relationship as it was, in an eternal transient state of a romantic friendship that never lost itself. "That sounds terrible, bonnie" he said, but you insisted he just didn't understand.

"I'm sensitive, Johnny." you tried to explain yourself "I can't stand the thought of ruining what we have."

"Seems like you can't stand the thought of improving them" he sighed.

You knew he had been sleeping with other people, and the thought soothed you more than anything. He never lied to you about it when you asked, and it was comforting to see his heart still belonged to you. You tried to imagine yourself as something separate entirely.

He traced his fingers down to your waist, then hips, and back to your shoulders, letting his hand linger on your breast.

"Don't you want it, baby? Not even a little bit?"

"I do, Johnny" you admitted, not immune to the desire that kept itself alive inside you.

"Haven't you been dreaming about it...?" he continued, his voice lower than before as his fingers played with your hair "Huh? You, me and Simon?"

Your eyes widened at his words, even though you had, in fact, been thinking about it constantly ever since the first night that Simon slept with you.

"That would be a mess" you murmured, telling him what you kept telling yourself.

Johnny chuckled, "a hot, delicious fucking mess?" he suggested.

"Just a regular mess" you lied.

"Just think about it, alright?" he eventually said, resting his head back on your chest.

"Okay." you promised before turning off the light on your nightstand..

"I love you, baby. Truly." he whispered in the dark "There's nothing for you to be afraid of."

"I love you too, Johnny"

Part of you knew it was a silly decision to insist on depriving yourself of pleasure, things were already messy enough. There was no saving any naivety of a friendship that hadn't been merely a friendship from the start, and refusing to admit that you did, in fact, have physical desires toward them was, perhaps, just making things worse. You made a mental note to search for a therapist when you got back home, perhaps dig into whatever religious guilt you seemed to have inherited to drive your decisions.

Nevertheless, you were able to remain firm in your decision. At least until two days later, when everyone went out for drinks at night after a long day.

The sky was dark grey when you left the base to go to the bar. The space was crowded, but comfortable. You knew almost everyone there and quickly settled with some friends.

After one and a half beers Johnny was already getting touchy with you by the counter.

"Have you thought about what I said?"

You nodded and he got closer to you, hands on your waist, "And will you let me make love to you?" he asked softly in your ear.

"Maybe I will" you confessed, already feeling a bit tipsy.

"Come on, bonnie" he insisted, hands on your waist "You know I've been dying to fuck you."

You felt as if your legs would melt right then and there. And, even with your back turned to him, you felt Simon's oppressive stare on you. You turned to find him across the bar.

You both looked at him, sitting at the table next to Price, who seemed to be talking to him, even though his attention laid somewhere else. His hair was covered by a black hoodie, but he didn't cover his face. He grinned at you playfully, taking a sip of the cold beer in his hand.

Johnny followed your gaze and smirked at Simon, then looked back at you with a devilish smile. "I'm gonna get Ghost to come with me" he said and you froze in place.

"I don't think that's a good idea," you plead, already feeling the palms of your hands sweat. What is it exactly that you feared? You didn't really know. It felt childish to be this scared of your own desires.

"I think he's into it" Johnny said, winking at you.

"I don't think so." you grew a bit nervous "I don't think he wants me like that"

Johnny just chuckled in response. "Sure" he said sarcastically. "I can't believe you think that's possible, baby".

You looked around the room nervously, the idea made your stomach turn.

"Tell me you don't want it." he said, suddenly looking at you with a serious expression "Just tell me you don't want it and I won't say anything to him. I'll drop it."

But you couldn't say anything, which made him smile before taking another sip of his beer. Johnny pecked a kiss on your cheek, before leaving you to sit at the table beside Simon.

Although you couldn't pinpoint what exactly caused you so much anxiety, you did notice that it mixed into a twisted excitement.

You watched as they interacted with each other, leaning closer to talk, smiling, and laughing lightly. They looked so pretty you couldn't believe such a dreamy scenario would become a reality to you. Johnny touched Simon's arm and whispered something to him, he grinned and looked at you.

You tried to pretend you hadn't been staring at him the whole time, suddenly feeling a lot of interest in the bottle in your hand and then the conversation that took place between the colleagues beside you.

You tried to distract yourself the rest of the night, interacting with other people and trying your best to focus on different subjects, other people's lives and problems, it was very hard considering that yours seemed to be about to become so much more exciting than anything your friends had been up to.

Johnny didn't seem to want to leave Simon's side anymore, they were engaged in conversation with Price and Gaz at the table on the corner of the bar for what felt like hours to you.

It was pouring rain outside by the time you gave yourself a little tipsy pep talk in the dirty restroom mirror. You told yourself you looked attractive enough, beautiful even. Nothing to worry about.

When you came back, you were so immersed in your own thoughts that you didn't even notice when Simon sat on the barstool beside you.

"What are you thinking about?" you heard his low voice behind you.

You turned around to look at him, feeling blood rush to your cheeks "Didn't see you there"

"Are you not going to tell me?" he repeated your words from the other night with a playful smirk, to which you frowned. He leaned a little closer to you to whisper in a high-pitched voice "I'm thinking about you".

"I don't sound like that"

"Yes, you do" he chuckled.

You took a deep breath before answering, echoing his own words back to him: "Well, you should stop flirting with me"

"I don't think you want me to stop" he grinned, and you wished you knew exactly what Johnny had said to him. "Do you?"

"No," you said frankly "no, I don't."

It was almost 2am when Johnny pointed his head to the door, signaling it was time to leave. Simon was already outside, and you were already soaking wet even before you left the covered environment of the bar.

You thought your heart was trying to jump out of your chest when Simon opened his bedroom door later that night, and felt both of the men you loved follow you inside.

You closed your eyes when you felt both of Simon's hands hold you by the shoulders from behind, as he got closer to you "are you OK, love?" he asked against your neck, the softest you've heard him speak, with the remains of alcohol on his breath. He placed a kiss on your shoulder and you rested your head against his chest.

You nodded, your body burning in anticipation. "Will you guys stop if I don't feel well?" you asked, your voice was almost a whisper.

The anxiety about the implications and consequences of this was already set on your chest. Now there was nothing else to do, no escaping the disturbance this would cause to your life. At this point, stopping would be much worse. Your desires had already manifested, they had been spoken, and transformed, there was nothing left to do but give in to it.

The violent rumbles of lightning bolts shook the sky outside, and sudden flashes of light illuminated the room at an unpredictable frequency. Your eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the room, and the darkness felt comforting, providing an atmosphere of otherworldliness to the room, you could almost imagine this scene took place in a different reality and try not to worry about it.

"Of course" Johnny answered and Simon nodded with his face on your neck.

Johnny kissed you first while Simon held you, his familiar lips searching urgently for you in the dark. You had one hand on his neck, while the other held tight to Simon's, afraid to lose his touch. Johnny looked at him with a smile before grabbing you by the waist and turning you around so that you faced Simon.

"What do you want me to do to you?" Simon asked, looking deep into your eyes, his tone was soft, the question genuine.

“Will you please kiss me?” you cried.

He took your hands in his and kissed them, the small sounds of his kisses covering your fingers and wrists. Then, finally, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You felt your heart could explode at any second. You cupped his face with both hands and caressed his skin.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant. His tongue was warm and smooth on yours and he tasted like beer and cigarettes.

You heard when Johnny unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants behind you, grabbing and pulling your hips so you could feel the volume in his underwear, you moaned into Simon's mouth.

Johnny left wet kisses on your neck, making you shiver as he pulled up your t-shirt. Simon cupped your breasts in his hands as soon as he saw them, quickly struggling to free them from your bra, peppering kisses on your chest and nipples.

Simon kneeled in front of you and pulled your pants down, helping you remove your shoes along with them, then smiling at you before kissing over your panties.

You rested your head on Johnny's chest and trusted that his strong grip on your waist would be enough to keep you in place because you barely made any effort to stand anymore.

You hummed when Simon's tongue first touched you, drawing small circles around your clit. Johnny groaned in your ear, pressing his hips against yours, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this horny in his life. His hands danced around your body until, feeling very bold from the alcohol, he moved one of his hands down to stroke Simon's hair.

"tastes so good, doesn't she?' he asked, to which Simon nodded, burying his face deeper between your thighs.

Your mind seemed to finally quiet, you wouldn't be able to form a coherent thought if you tried now. You could feel Simon's desire to devour you.

He slipped a finger inside you, moaning back when you did. He moved his lips back to your clit, sucking it with just enough intensity to make your legs tremble. And, as if he knew, just as you were about to come undone on his touch, Simon stopped, standing up again to kiss you, you whined in protest against his lips, but it was useless.

They exchanged glances and Johnny wet his own lips.

"Let me see you ride him, love" Simon whispered in your ear, eyes fixed to his. And you obeyed.

Johnny quickly removed the rest of his own clothes and lead you to Simon's bed by your hand.

He laid down, but you stood there looking at his body for a moment. He looked so beautiful lying naked in front of you, the low light that came from the window was only enough to highlight the contrast of his features. You couldn't believe you had actually been this stupid to deny yourself from him for so long. You bit your own lip at the sight, his eyes brightened with passion. "Go on" Simon encouraged behind you.

You spread kisses to his chest before sitting on him. You tried to do it slowly, making him roll his eyes back, getting used to the size of it little by little. You both gasped with pleasure when you finally took him in completely.

“You’re so tight, baby” he groaned when you started to move.

You could hear Simon ditching his own clothes somewhere behind you. Then you felt him behind you, one of his big hands gently holding your waist. Simon used his other hand to put one finger in your mouth and you sucked on it, making Johnny audibly moan under you.

You froze immediately when you felt his naked body touch yours, his hardened cock poked the skin of your lower back.

"Relax, I won't do anything you don't want" he assured you in a low voice against your neck. You received wet kisses on your back and shoulders.

Johnny moaned, his fingers tracing your thighs "Feels so good like that" he purred, and you nodded in agreement. He grabbed your hips but Simon quickly slapped his hands away.

Johnny blinked, confused, but then smirked when Simon started to guide your movements by the hips, slowly and gradually changing the speed to fit what you seemed to respond better to. He guided your body on Johnny in a way that made his cock touch you precisely in the right places. You barely had to do any work, so you rested your head on Simon's chest, only opening your eyes to watch Johnny's face under you.

Johnny rubbed his thumb softly on your clit, making very small movements around it. You moved accordingly, enjoying the way the pressure created a response deep within your stomach. You panted on top of him, exhausted but eager to continue, your body guiding you toward release.

The obscene sounds you made were thankfully muffled by the heavy rain outside. You felt your orgasm reach you with the growing rumbles in the sky, which eventually resulted in a violent lightning, not that far from the window. You let your body rest on Simon's chest after the wave of pleasure washed over you.

"You did so good, bonnie" Johnny sat up to kiss your face, and laid back down.

Simon pulled your hips back gently, indicating you should stand on your knees. Intuitively, you positioned yourself so that you could put your lips around Johnny's cock. He closed your eyes when you did.

"Look at her, Johnny" Simon ordered.

He held your hips firmly in place, then pressed into you slowly, savoring how the wet heat between your legs welcomed him.

Johnny had his head resting on one of his arms, his free hand lazily stroking your face as he watched you struggle to fit him in your mouth. He tried his best to be obedient and focus only on you, but his eyes kept looking up curiously, dying to watch Simon's face as he fucked you.

"God, you feel so fucking good" he whimpered before he started moving his hips, filling you completely with every thrust. You could feel his length messing up your insides and you were grateful to have Johnny's cock keeping you silent.

Simon traced his fingers down your spine, around your waist, then back to your neck. He gently stroked your head and grabbed your hair. You thought he'd pull it, but Simon just pressed the back of your head deeper on Johnny's cock, pulling you back when you gagged, then repeating the same movement again and again. Johnny closed his eyes in an effort not to come so soon from the view alone.

You gave up on your own body for a moment, forgot it was yours to control in the first place, letting it be taken by all their movements like one gets taken by the current at sea.

"'m gonna cum if you keep this up" Johnny announced in a low voice, and you weren't sure if he was talking to you or Simon, but the latter let go of his grip on your hair, unsure of what you wanted to do with that information. You kept going on your own now, until you felt Johnny pulse inside your mouth.

He let out a soft moan as he watched you swallow it. His body finally relaxed on the bed and you felt his fingers search your head and caress your hair.

Simon's movements became slower, almost nonexistent, and you anxiously moved your hips against him to alleviate the desire in your core.

"Don't stop" you begged in a small voice, resting your head on Johnny's thigh, but he did stop. Simon gently pulled your hips back and switched your body so that you were facing him.

"Lay down" he instructed, "I wanna see you".

Johnny's arms guided you to lay on top of him, your back to his chest. He kissed and caressed your head lazily while Simon spread your legs, sinking into you with a grunt.

You moaned loudly when you felt him entirely inside you again.

“Shh!” both of them reprehended you, and Johnny quickly covered your mouth with his hand.

"You wanted him to fuck you like this, huh?" he asked close to your ear and you nodded, unable to speak anything other than little moans that were muffled by his palm. Simon looked at you directly in the eyes, his face subtly contorting in pleasure with every little sound you made.

He pushed into you slowly, delighting himself in the warmth of having you wrapped around him. He tried to memorize the feeling of having your skin against his so he could dwell on it later.

Johnny uncovered your mouth to kiss you, moving his hand to hold you at your waist. The familiar feel of his tongue was both comforting and exciting, your lips searched for his with noticeable hunger. You didn't think you could possibly get more aroused at this point.

You rested your head on Johnny's shoulder, closing your eyes and feeling your body relax now that you've gotten more used to Simon's size inside you.

"Eyes open, love" Simon demanded, and you obeyed.

He kept his gaze on your eyes until he couldn't resist moving on to Johnny's anymore. They looked at each other for what felt like too long, Simon's thrusts into you got more intense, and it made you wonder if you were simply the vessel through which they fucked each other at that instant.

Johnny, who had his hands wandering around your body, now moved them from your breasts to caress Simon's chest on top of you, at first in shy quasi-accidental strokes, and then shamelessly grabbing at his waist, scratching nails on his back once he got a positive reaction.

He pressed his hand against the lower part of your stomach, right where you could feel Simon's cock attempting to tear you open with every thrust, you moaned into Simon's mouth as you felt Johnny getting hard under your body again. Your arousal was dripping down his crotch, his chest already wet from your sweat.

"Hm you're taking him so well, baby" Johnny whispered in your ear and you watched as Simon's eyes darkened at the sound of the words.

You’d lost track of time and sense of space completely. It was so unbelievably indulgent it almost felt wrong, as if you couldn't possibly be allowed to experience this much pleasure all at once in life.

You felt you’d reached some new sense of consciousness in which you did not belong to your body anymore, you've transcended into something else, something in complete harmony with them and their own bodies around you. You were certain for a moment that, if you tried or wanted to, you'd be able to read their minds and communicate without words.

The utter feeling of Love just invaded you in the form of radiating happiness, an epiphany planted in your heart, as if you had been stung by Eros himself and you felt yourself capable of reaching an orgasm without your body. All of a sudden the whole universe seemed to become clear and there were no questions you couldn't answer if you wanted, any doubt you had was gone, and any anxiety dissipated. You almost felt like laughing, relishing - for what was probably the first time - in the wonder of cloudless thoughts.

Simon dropped the support of his hands to his forearms, getting impossibly closer and resting his torso on top of you, the cold and metallic touch of his dog tags against your chest sent a shiver down your spine. Johnny’s hands moved from his waist to your hips, grinding you on top of his hardened cock in search of some relief, which was positioned between your ass cheeks.

You drunkenly intercalated kisses between the two of them, feeling absolutely in control until Simon locked your neck in place with his hand, choking you a little before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “Open” he demanded and you did.

He spit saliva into your mouth and, before you could swallow it, Johnny urgently pulled your face to kiss you, desperately licking your tongue.

"Fuck, Johnny" Simon grunted, digging even deeper into you, attempting to get even closer, making your toes curl. He leaned over and kissed Johnny, and you felt him instantly melt under you. His hands left your body to cup Simon's face.

They moaned into their kisses. You almost felt inadequate being there, as if you weren't supposed to witness that much intimacy, but the thought quickly died down when Simon's lips found yours again, leaving Johnny breathless, and he sealed you back into their little universe.

Your back arched when Johnny moved his fingers to your clit again, you barely needed any stimulation at this point, your legs were tense locked around Simon's hips.

"Come on, baby" Johnny purred in your ear "Let me see you cum all over his cock".

Almost as if on command, you did. The high building up in your lower stomach finally reached its breaking point and crashed into your body in waves of ecstasy. Simon moaned as he felt your entire body pulse and relax under him, he jerked faster into you and then quickly pulled out.

Johnny moved you away from him so that your back rested on the mattress with both of them towering over you, stroking themselves. Simon's eyes rolled back as he came on top of you, a heavy moan leaving his throat as he covered you with the warm gooey liquid that dripped from him.

The sheer sight of it, along with your little moans, was almost enough to get Johnny off immediately, and it only took a few strokes to make him cum again.

You watched them as Simon gently cleaned a bit of his own semen off of Johnny's abdomen with his thumb. He brought the finger close to his face in an offer, and Johnny obediently opened his mouth and sucked it off, receiving a pat on his head and a satisfied smile from his superior afterward.

You laid there exhausted while they cleaned you with tissues, getting little gentle kisses on your skin every once in a while. Simon turned you around on the bed and wiped a soft tissue on your face, removing the remains of mascara you had under your eyes.

It took you a few minutes to eventually get up and use the bathroom, Simon had one all to himself, which meant you didn't have to put your clothes back on.

When you came back, they were both still naked on the bed. Johnny was already asleep, a permanent smile stamped on his face, being only partially covered by the sheets.

"Come here" Simon whispered to you, and you gently climbed over Johnny's body to rest in the space between them.

Johnny sleepily arranged his arms around you, one over your waist and the other under the crease of your neck, his fingers reaching to caress Simon's hair.

Simon kissed your forehead. "This feels nice" he murmured, almost too quietly for you to hear. You looked up to kiss his lips again and rested your head on the pillow, wishing you wouldn't have to get up the next morning.

(now that this is out of my system I can finally move on with my life).

[samsm2mstories]

My coming out story.

I thought I should share you my story about coming out which was actually recently.

For many years I had a lot of suppressive issues that were out of my hands, society, cultures and other reasons which meant for me it wasn't the right time. Luckily for some countries it's easily being who you are compared to 10-20 years ago. The world sucks still as there are homophobic idiots everywhere, some are just sore losers who got not respect in society while others just don't know any better as their upbringing wasn't teaching them to respect others.

Luckily enough I live in the UK and we as a country have got better even although the early / mid 1900s generation are still hard at adapting to the modern world. It's not their fault as their times were different. Religion, society didn't know much better but that's history as we are the ones that living in this world and will be the ones moving forward. Some people will never understand it and respect it.

I'm lucky to come out around great people, I am a very well respected in person and in general a natural born leader so you could say I was like a captain that was popular which made my coming out harder.

Some of you might be thinking now does it become easier to come out as your identity?

I believe it's can depends on a number of reasons. You got to truly believe that you are who you are.

Don't question it.

If you question yourself, don't come out as that's a sign you are not ready. Talk to your friends, talk to strangers who are gay online (be safe not to disclose personal information)

I will admit I sat in my chair for a few good hours debating how to come out. I decided to go for it and do it in one big statement. That's a strong trait of mine as you all can tell on here.

I needed to write my story in a way that it wouldn't offend people, I did mention about the industry that was homophobic, some of my family and school.

It was that second most nervous point in coming out, just posting/saying it. I thought about listening to a few songs that were a big part of my life, thinking about those moments where sometimes I should of come out earlier to enjoy those moments.

You know what, I don't regret it at all, yes I missed out on some years but I had a brilliant life, travelling the world, experiencing new cultures, and making amazing friends on the way.

It did take a toll on my mental health at times but being the strong person I am, I dealt with it quickly enough.

So that night I sat there and my song came along.

Starship: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now (read the lyrics while listening to this song)

You know this was a song of mine but the words in it made me realised I want to go out there and enjoy myself.

I finally did it.....

Those nerves, stomach turning inside out, emotions running wild. It all hit me like a ton of bricks.

What will people think?

What will people say?

Will I lose some friends??

Everything was rushing in and out of my mind, I just went to bed, signed out of social media. I recommend you doing this for a day or two as you want to feel the response in one go.

People started to message me, those who had my mobile number. It became a bit easier, I wasn't in the mood for talking much so I text back in small sentences.

I went to work that day and luckily enough nobody there is on my social media pages. I managed to complete 8/10 hours of my shift.

I went home and cried for abit, emotions still hitting me like bullets. You will have moments thinking was this right but deep down you know you are right.

I decided to look at my social media pages.

The final verdict?

I'm finally a free man.

For those who are younger, there shouldn't be anyone under the age of 18 reading my stories as they are explicted but if you are reading this.

For you coming out would be different, I would recommend you do it now when the moment is right but take into consideration your family. Make sure you won't be disowned or kicked out of the house. Have a read-up online about it all and PLEASE RESEARCH EVERYTHING.

We all have different circumstances and you must be completely assured that coming out will be good when the moment is right..

Yes some might not agree with it.

Yes some might hate you now.

Yes some might be shocked and haven't replied.

Who cares????

This is your life so go out there and enjoy it, be safe while at it. Please use protection during sex with strangers.

Remember if you ever feel I doubt or want to talk, there's helplines, friends in the community, even send me a text if you want to talk more.

Don't be afraid to talk.

I hope you all enjoyed this irl story and it would be amazing if some of you reply to this about your coming out stories. It would make a brilliant discussion.

For those who are unsure on their sexuality, speak to me or other members of the community. Talking helps to make a decision. You will feel much better.

Sam your favourite Alpha writer 😎

[miss-menhera]

Vaggie is NOT a fallen angel !!!

I know everyone has been talking about little Vaggisaurus like she's a fallen angel and I suppose that's the easier way to explain it. But that's not it, like, at all. She's not an actual fallen angel, notice how she's never addressed as such either, it's not a casualty, she literally CANNOT be a fallen angel. Lucifer is a fallen angel and addressed as such though, and what happened to him is that he was exiled from heaven and thrown into the infernal pit he created due to his actions. Note how in episode 5 he says he won't be able to follow Charlie to the meeting in heaven, I always assumed he meant like, mentally he couldn't handle going back into heaven. (Which is definetely also true)But when I thought about it, it didn't make sense; He said he won't be able to go with her because OBVIOUSLY, he's a fallen angel and wouldn't be able to go with her whether he wanted to or not. And I feel like even if the PTSD is strong I feel like he still would have a made a little effort for Charlie.

While Vaggie has been stripped of her wings and halo but she has never been exiled from heaven, therefore she is not a fallen angel at all.... Just an angel who was stripped of her wings, but an angel nonetheless. Hence why she's allowed into heaven without issue, what I meant when I said "She cannot be a fallen angel" is because the reason Vaggie got punished is for taking pity upon the damned, and as corrupt as Heaven may be, there is no way she could be condemned for it like Lucifer did because her actions were harmless and selfless. And since exterminations are a secret and seen as blasphemous by any sensible person in heaven (as we've seen), even if what she did would be considered "sinful" (Which it absolutely isn't) there would still be no basis to exile her from everything. Since exterminations are a secret, by obligation what happened to Vaggie was also kept secret. And her status as an angel was "stripped" from her by Adam and Lute, whom may be powerful people in heaven but they are NOT the law, (Although Adam is a bit above it, he's like the son of the principal that always gets special treatment or smth) you can't make someone a fallen angel just by removing what makes them look like one. And that definetely has a deeper meaning, which I WISH was explored more but due to the timing in this show, it wasn't explored. at. All. I'M HAPPY HAZBIN HOTEL GOT PICKED UP BY AMAZON, but I just low-key wish they were picked up by a less..... hmm... blood-sucking business company that definetely doesn't value the show for its creative value but rather the money it would have gotten coming....?? And the fact they gave them just 8 episodes, tells me they had little faith in it, so next time it's not gonna go this way. There are so many details and misunderstandings in the plot of hazbin hotel due to rushed writing and lack of media literacy from the audience, but that's besides the point, I have literally never seen anyone talk about this and I don't understand why. This also ties back to the fact that since Adam supposedly died (I don't believe that for a second) were he to come back, Adam wouldn't be under the status of fallen angel either since he would just like, be stuck in hell.

[romicat]

So, I understand where people who are calling NYX racist are coming from, but I don't fully agree with that.

Instead, I think the problem is that it fails at hitting that same intersection of real life and fictionalized discrimination that both the Ms Marvel solo books and even the goddamn MCU did really well. That's something most X-Men titles fail to do despite many of their characters being marginalized minorities on top of being Mutants. It comes with the territory, X-Men has always been pretty bad at that stuff.

I don't think it's intentional, more it's misguided and toned deaf.

To break it down some: Sophie's problem with David at the start is that she thinks he's a sell out.

Mutants selling out to humans to make their own lives easier is a theme in some of the other X Books going on right now too. Becca refuses to leave her team and go home after her family pulls strings to get her out of jail, and instead throws herself into the thick of it, unwilling to put her own comfort first. And X-Factor is all about this.

^this is what Sophie is accusing David of.

Literally Kamala repeats it a few issues later for those that missed it. David for his part isn't actually doing that.

In a way he's trying to find his own answers to his own questions.

He can't jeopardize his position. He tries not to rock the boat too much, even as he's going out to paint some mutant graffiti. He takes Sophie's attacks and tries to *calmly* argue to his bosses against putting mutants in ghettos using data and facts.

Issue 1 is Sophie laying into David, Issue 4 is his rebuke, it's him deciding to risk his career to do what he feels is right. In Issue 4 he finds his own answer: "Xavier's dream wasn't his to burn."

----------------------

Yes, it sucks that they had to invent a whole new cousin for Kamala to be an anti-mutant member of the Truthseekers. They really didn't need to do that, but you can tell what it is that they were trying to do with that.

An amount of feminists and cisgender queer people have started to turn against trans people. For many years now there's been a growing movement of far right nationalist Hispanic immigrants in the states. One of the biggest voices in the far right is a Jewish man and another is an openly gay man and yet another is a black woman.

Kamala's cousin isn't a Muslim terrorist, he's a PoC who joined a far right extremist organization based off of the Proud Boys and the Guardian Angels. If ever they were to get their way with Mutants, the leopards would turn on him next. . . But you know if I were writing NYX I probably wouldn't have him bomb New York. That's kind of toned deaf. (Cough also Wilson literally introduced another Muslim villain who used explosions and talked a lot about purity first cough)

Despite what they were trying to do that entire subplot feels unnecessary. As does Kamala "learning" about mutant discrimination like she's some wide eyed ignorant little girl. I saw a comment on reddit that described it as "discrimination power scaling" and that basically hits the nail in the head.

Going back to one of my earlier point, X-Men books are really bad at that stuff. It's not something unique to NYX or its writers. It's the kind of stuff I expected would happen when Kamala was retconned as a mutant.

The Ms Marvel books deal with how all these different parts of Kamala's heritage and identity come together. How she's something wholly distinct from any one of them. Her identity is larger than the sum of her parts.

But in NYX, and the mass majority of X-Men comics really, a character's identity as a mutant supersedes anything else. At the core that's what's wrong with NYX.

Compare this to the MCU show where, yeah Damage Control would've gone after Kamala even if she wasn't visibly brown. But because she was, they racially profiled her. And because she was a Muslim they got a leg up since the FBI had already been watching Kamala's mosque long before that investigation. They went after Kamala for being a little reckless with her power as hard as they did Peter for potential murder.

Sorry for what might be another late night rant that might only make sense to me in my sleepy state. I'll try to clean up the text some time tomorrow.

I just had to get my thoughts out there because while I think NYX is bad, I don't think simply boiling it down to "Sophie is racist" or "the writers are racist" or "the characters are coming from a place of racism" is helpful. I understand why that's the immediate reaction a lot of people have. But I think the issues in NYX are in large part the issues with every X-Men series. . . Well, with the exception of Momoko's Demon Days and more recently maybe her run on Ultimate X-Men. I say maybe because we still need to see if it can stick the landing.

[meluene]

The thing with loving Cas was that it came so easily. Dean didn't have to think about it or do anything for it to happen. It just existed inside of him, undeniable and unbothered, and he wasn't even sure when it had started to feel this way.

Like Dean's palms needed to touch Cas's stubble, card fingers through his messy hair when his head was resting on Dean’s chest or lap.

Like he wanted to soak in the warmth of Cas's skin when they were watching a movie in the evening or reading separate books before bed. See how his ridiculously blue eyes lit up when Castiel smiled, or hear his deep laugh.

Feel Cas's hand in his.

Hell, Dean even loved the guy’s grumbling before he had his morning coffee, his snarky comments, and the comfortable silence that seemed to be possible only between the two of them.

The only problem was, Dean didn't know how to say any of those things out loud.

There was no way around this, though. He had to power through it somehow.

“Something’s on your mind,” Cas murmured after a moment of silence. They were sitting close, with their thighs and shoulders almost touching.

“Yeah,” Dean slowly admitted, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. He suspected he was experiencing the exact feeling of a parachutist just before they jumped out of a plane. Truly insane people. He licked his lower lip before he spoke again. “I’m thinking about uh… Us.”

In this first slide, I am going to present to you the benefits of continuing in this relationship.

Cas cocked his head to the side. “About what, exactly?”

C’mon, focus. You can do it.

“Just… That we’re really good together.”

That is not what you were supposed to say.

Castiel smiled a little, then hummed approvingly. “We are. Truth be told, I didn’t expect it to work so well between us.”

Dean hadn't either, but since he was running out of time here, he had to finally get to the point. “It might be because we're best friends,” he said, wondering why his mouth had stopped listening to him altogether. He should focus on just saying the words at this point.

Cas nodded, smiling wider. “That's true. It's a good foundation to any relationship. It's easier to communicate when you have a deep understanding of each other's personalities. Actually, I once read an interesting book on these exact issues. It has been emphasized several times how important it is to establish an open and honest communication with each other,” he said, with a clear intention to continue this monologue. Dean started to slightly panic, while Castiel went on and on about the benefits of mutual respect.

I really fucking suck at this shit, Dean thought.

“...It is crucial both partners feel valued and appreciated, and best friends usually indicate a high level of compatibility…”

Dean took a deep breath and slowly let it out, then swallowed and opened his mouth. “I love you, Cas,” he finally said.

Castiel stopped talking immediately and his eyes widened in awe.

All of a sudden, a roar came from the shore, sounding like many people were yelling the same thing at the same time.

“Ten!” Jack joined them. “Nine! Count, guys!”

Dean glanced briefly in the direction of the boy, then back at Castiel, whose eyes were now gleaming.

“Six! Five!”

“I love you, too,” Cas said, letting a soft smile bloom on his face.

“Three!”

“You do?” Dean asked, and his stomach filled with the jumpy butterflies again.

“One!”

“I do,” Cas replied, smiling wider, and, at the same time, the whole sky filled with all the colors of the rainbow right above their heads.

“Whoa!” Jack shouted, focused solely on the incredible spectacle of light. And it was probably for the best, because a few feet behind him, Castiel and Dean completely ignored the beautiful, loud fireworks that lit up the night sky, busy with their New Year's kiss, that they would both remember for the rest of their lives.

+++

A little something for New Year's celebrations. 🍾🎉

Wish you all a lot of Destiel in the upcoming year!

Want more?

[gabessquishytum]

god though the hurt/comfort possibilities for hob in the suddenly a/b/o au are just killing me like?? hob's been living in his body for six centuries, he's used to it changing with his lifestyle, but it's his body. he knows it, he knows how it feels, how it works. waking up and finding it suddenly changed is... hard. and the rest of it isn't any easier. he keeps asking other omegas what it was like when they found their alpha and it just reinforces, over and over again, that he's never had anything close to that happen to him. he's never met an alpha who smelled right, who felt right, who he wanted to give himself over to. not in the slightest.

after a while he starts to think that maybe it just... didn't work right on him. that whatever happened, whatever changed the world overnight, maybe he's old and out of place and maybe it didn't work. maybe there's no alpha out there for him. and maybe that's better, because he's seen what happens to mated omegas when their alphas die. maybe it's better he doesn't have to worry about that.

and then, of course, dream walks into the new inn. and nothing he ever heard about how it feels to meet one's true mate could have possibly prepared him for how right he feels, like something's been misaligned in him all this time and it's finally, finally slotted into place.

and then. he's so happy to see his friend again, he feels really properly good for the first time since becoming an omega, and it's all distracting enough that he doesn't realize he's going into heat until he can't string a sentence together and he realizes he's so wet he's soaked through his jeans to the bench he's sitting on. he's never been knotted before. he needs to get knotted right this second. thankfully dream's more than happy to provide 💖💖💖

-🐈‍⬛

Omegaverse angst always hits different!!! I'm so soft for this <33

I feel like Hob would be secretly THRILLED that he's an omega rather than an alpha. When the plague/pandemic/whatever started causing secondary genders Hob was convinced he'd be an alpha because... Well, he's got a lot of alpha traits. And of course it would be easier to be an alpha, but being an omega? It feels right. He's excited. He wants a mate, a nest and babies too if his alpha will give him that.

That doesn't mean it doesn't also absolutely suck. Hob doesn't cope too well with his anatomy changing and his biology freaking out. He gets really bad side effects from his heats, suffers majorly from hormonal issues, has to take bucket loads of medication if he wants to function when his heat hits. He adapts very slowly.

He figures that finding an alpha could help, but the problem is, none of them feel good or right or safe. He tries a bunch of different people, takes as many alphas on dates as he can without getting a ~reputation~ but none of it works for him. There are no sparks or warm feelings. Just... nothing. And an ache the next morning.

Then.THEN. Dream waltzes back in smelling like homesafewarmalpha. Hob has an existential crisis and eventually he's like "I'm so sorry this is really embarrassing but can we go upstairs. I'm dripping onto the bench." And Dream helps him get up and makes sure the mess is cleaned up so no one else sees (because he doesn't want Hob to feel embarrassed, ever, not of something that smells so natural and beautiful).

Hob ends up curled up in Dream’s lap on the sofa just whining and crying out softly. He wants so much but even through the heat he knows that he can't ask this of Dream! This is already too much. Dream can smell the distress on him and just wants to ease his pain, so he eventually does what seems right and carries Hob to bed. He strips off the wet clothes and presses himself close to Hob, skin on skin, and asks him what he wants.

Hob manages to incoherently explain how he feels like he's broken, there's no alpha for him except Dream. And Dream is his friend, Hob can't expect anymore that. But it hurts so bad and he wants so much.

Dream is like "oh but actually. I have had a long time to think about it and I am in fact very much in love with you."

If Hob literally cums right there and then... Well, he's been waiting a long time, and Dream isn't judging. He just wants to see Hob do it again.

[moodymelanist]

Are you just doing Elucien prompts? Because I had this idea for Nessian where canon Nesta craves physical affection from Cassian but doesn’t really know what to do with it when he is affectionate with her because she’s never had anyone touch her tenderly like he does

nope, I’m taking any and everyone as the mood strikes me! I hope you don't mind that this is a modern au; I really liked this idea but writing in canon isn't my preferred thing to do. tw for discussion of prior abuse (tomas + mama archeron can suck it).

Nesta knew Cassian had noticed the way she didn’t know what to do with herself whenever he wanted to touch her. He was just so giving with his affection, from the easy way he would sling an arm around her shoulders to the kisses he liked to press to her skin whenever he felt she needed one.

Part of her wanted to lean into those touches, to make things easy the way they seemed to be for him, but a much larger part of her didn't know how to trust hands that were reaching for her. She was so used to being hurt instead of being held that her body just didn't know what to do when it was presented with the second option.

"I'm sorry," Nesta said for what felt like the millionth time after it happened. She'd been washing their dishes from dinner when Cassian had come up from behind her to wrap his arms around her, sending her into a stiff panic before she forced herself to calm down. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

They'd been dating for long enough that Nesta hated it was even an issue. They spent endless time in each other's apartments, saw each other multiple times a week, had met each other's friends and chosen families. She knew Cassian would never hurt her, would never even want to, but it was hard to fight every instinct in her body telling her she was in danger when it had kept her alive for so long.

"You don't have anything to apologize for, sweetheart," Cassian replied. He slowly unwrapped his arms from around her so he wouldn't startle her further and took a few steps to the right. "I'm the one who should be apologizing."

"What?" she responded, completely flabbergasted. She turned off the water and turned to face him so they could have what was shaping up to be an important conversation without any distractions. "You're not the one who's fucked up."

"Nesta." He gave her a look that told her exactly what he thought of that statement. "What happened to you was fucked up. That doesn't mean you're fucked up."

"But I am fucked up."

"We're all a little bit fucked up. Doesn't mean I still don't owe you an apology."

"What do you think you owe me one for?" Nesta asked, a little resigned. Her boyfriend was even more stubborn than she was on the best of days, so sometimes it was easier to just give in rather than fight a ridiculous fight, especially for something they'd talked to death so many times before.

"I know you don't like me coming up to you like that, so I'm the one who owes you an apology," Cassian answered. "I'm sorry for scaring you."

"It's not that you scared me," she told him honestly. Having conversations like these made her insides crawl, but since they were already talking, she thought she might as well rip the entire band-aid off anyways. "I like it when you touch me, I just... need some more warning, is all."

"Okay," he easily agreed. "I'll try to remember that for the future. Okay?"

"Okay," she mumbled. She turned around and started messing with the dishes again just to give herself something to do, not sure where to go from here.

"Is it okay if I give you a hug now?" Cassian asked after a few moments passed.

"Yes," Nesta answered. She took a deep breath and let it go just as his arms slowly circled back around her, letting herself relax as much as she could into the warmth of his embrace. It was much better now that she knew it was coming, and she found herself able to enjoy the feeling of his warm body behind her instead of immediately going into fight-or-flight mode.

"Better?" he murmured, squeezing her gently.

"Better," she repeated.

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearloftheorients | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[rigelmejo]

Okay my perfectionist tendencies suck ToT.

My new study plan, Chinese: attempting to counteract the perfectiomist urges: listen to Poyun audiobook, do not replay or restart any sections. If I lose the plot then I fucking lose it. As far as I can tell, it has at least as many unique words (roughly) as MoDu, and probably more words I don't know (since I studied from Priest novels so I know more words in them generally). So I figure, I can get practice from Poyun understanding the parts with words I know, practice understanding faster, and maybe pick up some new words. And then when I go back to easier stuff for me, like the Saye audiobook, I will understand more words and more easily/quickly. I got through 2 hours of Poyun so far. How much am I comprehending? HA. Well... tons of words, but for actual sentences I'll follow 90%-98% of a dialogue portion then it switches to description and Ill understand a sentence or phrase, then just isolated words I caught, then a sentence or phrase again, etc. But we'll see if it still results in progress.

Side note, they use a song in this that I remember from Guardian...

I was listening to Saye, but because I knew almost all the words, I kept replaying each chapter, trying to clearly understand Everything, and so I didn't get farther than 1 hour 20 minutes into the audiobook. Since I kept replaying sections. I probably would improve, just extensively listening to Saye. But I couldnt get myself to stop intensively wanting to replay each line, look up the words I didn't know, and so I wasn't getting through very much of the audiobook. I have also been listening to MoDu and Guardian, and having similar issues: i know ENOUGH that i kept replaying sections and chapters and looking up words, to clarify the details i was missing. So i wasnt getting past the first 5 chapters in either audiobook.

My plan with chinese is just... FINISH AN AUDIOBOOK MEJO PLEASE. Stop repeating the same fucking 10 minutes over and over I'm begging...

Japanese: through 5000 sentences in glossika! My plan is to continue in glossika until I'm done with new sentences, then do review for a month. Afterward, listen to Nihongo Con Teppei podcast, and then Yuyu no nihongo podcast. I should know enough words at the end of glossika to get through those podcasts. I imagine they'll reinforce words I learned, fill in some common word gaps that glossika may have, and improve my comprehension speed. After that, I'd like to move to jdrama watching and video games (or at least lets plays). I love the Comprehensible Japanese youtube channel, but I find it so much EASIER to squeeze audio only study into my days. So I'd like to try with podcasts. And, this part of the plan is the same, whenever I feel like improving reading I plan to just use Satori Reader app for 1-4 months and challenge myself to read as much as possible.