#it's a really important kind of coming of age and i expect it's rather important (<- opposite response to yusuke + too-different life)

[amalthea-13]

The Octavia Dilemma (Vent/Rant Post)

TW: Divorce

I want to make it abundantly clear that this post is about myself and my feelings on Via. This does not reflect the greater fandom or all Stolas Stans.

This is a reflection of my feelings and my feelings alone. Do not utilize this post to generalize all Stolas Stans since many of them are going to agree with about 60% of my post and I'm fine with that.

Moving on,

Hello everyone! It is I, Amalthea, the Ultimate Stolas Kinnie and Stan, reporting to you live on a topic I was initially going to not talk about, but became more compelled to talk about since well- I didn't want to talk about Stella. (I'd rather not lol)

When it comes to Octavia and her rejecting Stolas I have very, very mixed feelings on the topic. While many of you may think she was right or wrong, I'm going to give you the perspective from a person who lived this stuff during my preteens.

I won't go into details, but my parental unit picked another person over my family. Parent A decided to pick Person C over Parent B and that will never not mess me up till this day.

When Parent A left, I was alone without the only thing I wanted, closure. I didn't understand why I was abandoned. I didn't understand how Parent A just thought I didn't matter anymore.

Parent B had to struggle and I just had to- watch morbidly as my world fell apart.

One of the things I absolutely can't agree with Octavia doing is walking away from Stolas when he came back to her.

She has this entire speech, victimizing herself solely(not faulting her for it, just stating it), and not asking the question why and that is where I will say the Hellaverse team failed. Kids of divorce always ask the question why. We seek a reason and yet Octavia just makes baseless accusations at Stolas that hold no water.

I mean your father, the man who has stood by your side, and loved on you for ages suddenly has an affair with a strange imp from his past and you don't even- think to ask why? Or let him explain?

Octavia willingly parentified herself to cope, which again as someone who is parentified, that makes no sense to me. Parentification happens when no one is around to help you or support you, but Octavia had her dad right fucking there. She rejected him, and seemingly can't understand he's depressed???

Again, I am speaking for myself, but this entire rant of hers makes no sense to me. She's seen him light up around Blitz, be more open (maybe to open), and be happier, but doesn't acknowledge it???

My issue, a reminder I am talking about myself , with Octavia is she makes everything solely about herself and asks no important questions about her father. I know she is a rich girl, but she is shown to be empathetic and kind overall, so it feels out of character she doesn't even- try to understand. Even if it's hard.

When Parent A came back into my life I begged for a reason why. Why the hell did you leave!? What did Person C have that I didn't!? Why did you raise their child you didn't birth but not me!? What did I do wrong!? What was so bad you left!?

None of these questions were asked, Octavia goes straight to making accusations which makes no sense. The fact she expected Blitz to die??? Like Loona wasn't going to be fatherless??? Like she's 17. Via is a bright and smart girl. Did she really look down on Blitz that much??? (genuine question, not tryna be a smart ass)

Octavia: You lied to me.

Stolas: What?

Octavia: *pushes Stolas away* You lied to me! You said you would never leave me! You promised!

Stolas: Via. I-I didn't leave you I-I- I would never, it wasn't my choice.

Octavia: It was your choice. You chose HIM!

I also think this whole scene is why Stolas made the choice he made. While he had an inclination he could die- he knew his privilege could possibly save him. It's why he was a bit confused and not sure of what was going to happen.

He was hanging onto the hope he'd not die. Afterwards the reality sets in as to what he had just done and what he truly lost. Stolas took a risk on a hunch.

The man had no choice. As a father, as a person, as a soulmate, he was in an impossible situation where he had to use his privilege. He had no other option or Loona would be fatherless.

Stolas: Via, no! I didn't I just- I had to. You don't understand.

Octavia: *clenches fist as magic forms* I do understand! I understand that we were never enough for you! You never loved mother, and you don't love me, you love him. *holds up happy pills* And you needed THESE! Was this my fault that you needed these?

Stolas: No! No, never Via! *grabs Octavia's hands* Sweetie, please. You have always been the only good thing in my life!

Octavia: So does that mean you just stayed miserable because of me? *tearing up* Was I some fucking obligation? Is that why you didn't even hesitate when you got a chance to leave?

This next part always pisses me off because Via's expectation of her father are so high. That he cannot have autonomy outside of their family. She is so attached at the hip to him that anytime he deviates from loving her entirely it is a slight against her.

Also the obligation part of that statement boils my blood, because girl- you don't even know what it is like to have your parent look at you and tell you to your face "you're just a responsibility to me". Because I lived that shit. I lived knowing Parent A didn't want me because I was just to much.

Stolas stayed and loved on this girl. He gave her the whole universe and more and somehow that isn't enough.

Of course I sympathize with the sentiment, but nothing in Stolas's behavior nor him being with Blitz suggests she was ever solely an obligation to him.

If Stolas truly viewed her as a responsibility he wouldn't show any concern for her. Parent A in my life acted distant and emotionally withdrawn. They didn't take care of me anymore, acting like a ghost of their former self. They took care of my most basiepc and fundamental needs while Octavia is borderline spoiled and-

FUCK why couldn't I have that!? She sits there and complains but her parent came back for her?! She had a chance at closure and denied it! What kid of divorce does that!? What person does that?!

I know I shouldn't have this much turmoil over this. I really shouldn't. If anything I should be sympathizing with her entirely. Theoretically I should hate Stolas, but I can't because I know what it's like to be guilted for choosing yourself! I know what it's like to be forced to feel bad for being depressed! It's why I love Stolas so much and understand him completely.

But when it comes to Via, the character who borderline mimics my trauma I just- can't fully empathize. I can rationalize her thinking and- understand where it may stem from, but it still leaves me aggravated and unsatisfied.

While I may be ranting and rambling at this point- I may just be projecting and it's why I said to not take this post as something to generalize the collective- but I am thoroughly dissatisfied with Octavia's writing.

So much of it tries to mimic divorce related trauma, but none of what she has been through would initiate such a response.

She hasn't been abandoned, her father is right there.

She isn't an obligation, all of her needs are met and she gets all she wants along with a nurturing environement.

She was enough for her father, he came back for her. If she wasn't enough he'd never come back.

All of the claims she makes are easily debunked with rational thinking and do not make sense when you have lived through divorce yourself. Again, I can be projecting, but FUCK I needed to vent about this.

It just feels like such a fickle iteration of what real divorce looks like for us.

Ask Box is Open ofc.

[skrunksthatwunk]

yusuke urameshi thank you for being an icon for neglected kids who got mad about it

[fushitoru]

the importance of skincare a gojo satoru fic

PAIRING: gojo x reader SUMMARY: worried about your boyfriend's skin health, you're set out on a mission to teach him about skincare, sitting him down and rubbing products over his face while seated on his lap. only, he convinces you that he has something to teach as well about facials. just not the kind you expected. WARNINGS: NOT EDITED, oral (m!rec), gojo cums all over reader's face, nsfw, FLUFF (a lot of it), established relationship, gojo is a nuisance, gn!reader, i have writer's block and this helped, silly little thought based off this drabble

“Applying sunscreen on my boyfriend because otherwise, this is what we’ll look like when we’re 60.”

You gasped out loud, despite being alone. Rolling around on the couch you were lazing in, you stared at the paused screen in front of you: a woman and her boyfriend, except she’s finely aged with a few wrinkles, and he looks like an extremely wrinkled potato. Suddenly, your mind flashes back to all the moments your boyfriend, Satoru, would scroll on his phone while you finished your nighttime skin care routine.

“Baby, you really should start doing some skincare.” You give him a sideways glance while rubbing snail mucin all over your face.

Satoru looks up from whatever nonsensical reel on his page half heartedly and observes you as you pat your hands all over your face and neck. “I wash my face.”

“Using your 13-in-1 wash?”

“I don’t use 13-in-1 wash.” Satoru fully looks up, frowning. Sassily, he adds, “And what you’re rubbing all over your face looks like cum.”

That’s as much prodding you’ve done to convince your boyfriend to adopt better facial hygiene, but today was different. You were not about to let your pretty boyfriend get skin cancer or age like milk.

The door opened, as Satoru stepped into your apartment. “Hi, baby!” You perked up from washing your dishes, your form barely able to peek over the kitchen counters over to him, at your doorstep. He can hear pitter patters of your feet as you make your way to him. Then your warmth envelops him, smelling of dish soap and rose. He gives a little mwah! to the top of your head while murmuring, “I bought crepes for you today. Extra Nutella and everything.”

But rather than excitedly reaching for the crepes, you stayed in his hold, hugging onto him tight and stuffing your face in his shirt, breathing in deeply as if to memorize his scent. Satoru confusedly looks down at you, hesitantly coming up to rub your scalp to give you head scratches with his free hand. “Are you okay?” 

“Satoru, we have to talk,” you mumble into his chest. 

Alarmed, Satoru looks down at you. “Oh my god,” Satoru nervously exclaims, “at least let me put down our crepes before you give me a heart attack.” Your only response is to nuzzle your face further into his chest, while he grabs your hand, unwraps you from him, and leads you to your couch. He puts the crepes down on the dinner table and grabs both of your hands, pouting and frowning slightly in that sweet, ignorant way of his. “What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

You glanced up at him, staring in distress. “Babe, you need to do your skincare.”

“This is what you wanted to talk about?” Satoru looks at you confused. “I thought it was something serious.” You almost want to sob at the way he looks like a confused kitten. You don’t understand why you’re so hung up over that one TikTok—although, your menstrual cycle app did say menstruation was near—but it definitely changed your outlook on your boyfriend’s skin health. 

“This is serious.” You were visibly growing more and more listless until you suddenly make the decision to stand up and make your way somewhere towards the bathroom. 

When you came back, you had your hefty Chanel purse, one that Satoru gifted you for your 2nd year anniversary. You set it down in the space between you and Satoru with a plop! as you began to rummage through the contents to find your essential skincare items. Dragging him to the bathroom, you command him to wash his face. And, to his credit, he does go through all the motions, albeit a little confused. 

A few minutes later, you sit him down on the couch—with your skincare items in hand—and take your seat on his lap. Satoru’s still a little confused as to what’s going on, but—to his credit—you aren’t doing much explanation, either. 

“Baby, I’m really confused,” Satoru is now putting his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to his torso as you lather different creams on your hands. Any further questions from him are stopped as you gently rub them all over his face, targeting his T-zone and cheeks. 

“I saw a TikTok of this girl ‘nd her boyfriend, ‘Toru,” you explain, lathering his face. “He doesn’t do his sunscreen, so he’s going to look like an overboiled tomato when he’s 60. Didn’t want the same for you.” 

 You continue to reach for another bottle, until you realize it’s set too far down the table for you to reach. Naturally, Satoru reaches it for you and puts it in your hands, frowning. “You made me so worried. I thought I did something wrong.”

“You are doing something wrong. You’re doing your pretty skin wrong.” You were scowling, but your hands were sweetly patting Satoru’s face in a way that made him relax. After a long day of dealing with Yaga, he appreciated your soothing hands massaging the tension out of his face. It was never easy dealing with dissaproving old fucks. 

Deciding to adjust his posiiton, Satoru crossed his arms behind his head, laying back onto the couch instead of sitting. Closing his eyes, he felt you straddling him in an effort to reach across his torso to his face to continue your pampering. You both fell into a comfortable silence as you droned on about what you were putting onto his face. A serum that smelled good. “This is hyaluronic acid serum. This’ll keep your face nice and hydrated.” A cream that felt cold on Satoru’s skin. “This is niacinamide, because I know you picked on your acne and boogers when you were going through puberty.” He wanted to protest, but it was so hard to when you pair the insult with a small smooch on his nose. Something that smelled harsher than the others. “This is retinol, and it’ll help you prevent wrinkles.”

In the midst of your teaching, he cracked open an eye and grabbed both of your hands by the wrist, seemingly in thought. “Wait, babe. You’re missing something.” You blinked. “What?” 

“Well, there’s this thing called facials." The beginnings of a smug smile bloomed across his face. It’s really good for your skin, ‘nd I have just the thing with me."

“‘Toru, you are so stupid,” you whined, licking up and down his cock and balls, giving little kisses to his pink and throbbing length.

“Shhh, baby, this is good fo’ you, I promise.” Sounds of plap! plap! echoed throughout the room as your boyfriend slapped his cock against your cheeks. He groaned, taking in the arousing sight of you: on your knees, only wearing his shirt. His cock hardens at the thought of you, his pretty little girlfriend, spending all day in his clothing. He could see your cute little baby blue panties covering your ass as his shorts rode up in your attempts to take his cock deeper in your mouth. As you continued to slobber on his cock, deepthroating him, he could continually smell your arousal, moaning as he realized you must be ruining your underwear.

“Awww, I can smell you, sweetheart. Your little pussy getting wet from just sucking my cock? I’m not even touching you,” Satoru pouted in faux pity and cooed, patting your head while he continually fed you his cock. 

You tried to protest. “Mmmff—” 

“Shhhh,” Satoru had a cocky smile on his face as he shushed you. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, baby.” With that, he lightly grabbed your hair, looking down at you for permission. When you nodded, he began face fucking you in earnest, cock throbbing as your hot, wet mouth enclosed around him. Your tongue laving over his sensitive spots made him groan. “Your mouth feel sooo good. What a good girl, taking my cock, slobbering all over it—fuck.”

He felt himself coming closer. “Baby,” he groaned, “you’re about to make me cum. Gotta give you your facial, right? Make you all nice and pretty?” You whined, tears running down your cheeks because of your stuffed mouth. It sent vibrations up and down his cock, making him come even closer. “Fuuuuck. Fuck, I’m coming.” Satoru pulled out of your mouth, pumping his cock onto your face, your tongue stretched and your eyes directly on his. Rubbing your tongue softly on his tip was what made him reach his climax; he moaned as he splurted long and think ropes of cum, coating your cheeks, forehead, and tongue. It was all so messy. Even after being done, Satoru was continually rubbing his cum into your skin with his cock. 

“Wheeew.” Satoru giggled, reaching down to put you on his lap. “Looks like you got your skincare.”

“Satoru, please give me a tissue. Right now. Your cum is dripping all over my face.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he whined. To your annoyance, he only further rubbed in the creamy substance over your face, using his palms and fingers to spread it. 

Disgusted, you knew what to say. “You’re never getting head from me ever again.”

Satoru had never scrambled to the bathroom faster.

a/n lol he's so stupid. this is the only thing i could force my brain to write but now i'm locked in and finishing all my drafts fr

[moonstruckme]

I really hope you mean here 🤭

Request: "Remus is being rude to the reader due to the upcoming full moon.. make it as angsty as you can"

Thanks for requesting babe <3

cw: migraine, Rem is mean :(

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

When you come home from work, the apartment is dark and there’s evidence of Remus’ shit day everywhere. 

The curtains are drawn closed against the sunlight, and there’s a discarded blanket on the couch and several snack containers half-emptied on the coffee table. One of them has tipped onto the floor, a mess of crisps your boyfriend was likely feeling too unwell to tidy. He’s spilled tea on the table, too. These kinds of things are more common in the days before the full moon, but you think he must really be having a rough one. Even a few unwashed dishes in the sink is usually enough to stress Remus out, so he has to have been in a state to leave things like this. 

You brew a fresh cup of tea, grabbing some chocolates from the cabinet in case he didn’t bring any with him, and broach the bedroom. A shape moves under the sheets when the door creaks open. 

“Hi,” you say softly. You kneel by the bed, lightly touching the ends of Remus’ hair. “How are you, love?” 

“Bad,” he mutters from beneath the covers. You wince. He must be, if he won’t even lower the sheets beneath his eyes. 

You do your best to keep the pity from your voice, knowing he’d hate it. “I brought you some tea,” you murmur, “if you want it.”

“Can’t right now.” 

“It’s chamomile,” you coax. “It might help—”

“I can’t.” The low rumble of his voice takes on a hard edge, and you fall instantly silent. You nod even though he can’t see it, setting the tea and chocolate on his nightstand as quietly as you can. 

You don’t tell him you’re going, sure every footstep is agonizingly loud for him. You force down the lump in your throat. Remus is miserable right now; he’s not thinking about how his tone affects you, and that’s not his fault. He doesn’t mean anything by it. You can deal with it, help anyways.

You sweep instead of vacuuming, gathering the little bits of crisps into a dustpan and dumping them in the trash. The half-eaten snacks get reshelved in your cabinets, the puddle of tea cleaned off the coffee table, and candles lit to banish the stale smell in the living room. The cinnamon ones are usually Remus’ favorite, but you trade them out for lavender on the off chance it helps with his headache. You’re washing dishes one at a time so they don’t clatter when the bedroom door creaks open. 

“Hey,” you say, relieved. “Feeling better?” 

“No.” Remus’ voice is low, and the scratch of it tears at your heartstrings. He trudges to the end of the hall, where he stops, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “I need you to be quiet.” 

“Oh, sorry.” You soften your voice, freezing with your hands submerged in the warm dishwater. “I’ve been trying, I didn’t realize you could hear. I’m almost done with this, so—” 

“Could you stop?” he asks, tone going harsh again. “Just, be quiet or find somewhere else to be, please. I can’t deal with this.” 

You swallow against the intrusion in your throat. Will away the heat from your face. “Okay,” you say, the word barely a whisper. 

Remus turns, plodding back to the bedroom. You hear the door shut.

You leave the dishwater to get cold rather than pouring it out and making more noise. You sit down on the couch with a book, eyes skimming over the words as you convince yourself over and over that it’d be stupid to cry about this. Your face heats, then cools. Tears blur your vision and you blink them away. This is ridiculous. Remus is just moody, he didn’t mean it. You know better than to take anything he says to heart right now. You can’t expect your efforts to be properly appreciated, but the important part is to keep making them. When he’s feeling better, he’ll thank you in a million sweet ways, because that’s who he is. He loves you. He didn’t mean it. 

It’s dark outside when the bedroom door creaks open again. You hadn’t noticed night falling, even when the light became too dim for you to make out the words on your page. You set your book down; you hadn’t been reading anyway. 

Remus sits next to you without a word. He leans the side of his head against the cushion with a sigh. 

“Dove?” he murmurs. 

You don’t dare do more than hum in response. 

A scarred hand finds your leg, the thumb sweeping back and forth over your skin. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he says quietly. “That was…it was really mean. And undeserved.”

“I’m sorry I was being loud,” you reply, and you can’t help it, your throat clogs all over again. “I was just trying to help.” 

Your voice catches on the last word, and Remus makes a pained sound that has you silencing yourself instantly. He makes another at your response. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he rasps. “Do you want a hug?” 

You bite down on your lower lip. “Are you okay to hug?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart.” 

He meets you in the middle, pressing upon your shoulder blades like he can hold you together by sheer physical force. You try for his sake, swallowing the cries that rise in your throat. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, palm marking a slow path up and down your back. “You weren’t too loud, I’m just fussy. You were only being your kind self. I had no reason to be so horrid.” 

“You weren’t horrid,” you warble. “I know you’re having a hard time.” 

“That’s no excuse.” His palm makes its way back to your shoulders just in time to feel the first little sob escape you. Remus’ grip tightens. “Aw, dovey. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe I spoke to you like that.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” he murmurs, kissing the exposed bit of skin where your shirt is slipping down your shoulder. “It’s not, and—” He pauses, looking around the room for the first time. “Did you clean?” 

You nod against his front, feeling the pained sigh that leaves him. 

“Fuck, I’m awful.” 

“You’re not.” 

“You were cleaning up my mess, and I yelled at you.” Now Remus’ voice sounds a tad raw too. He gathers you closer, stubble scratching your forehead as he kisses your hairline. “My sweet girl. You should have ripped me a new one.” 

“You weren’t yelling,” you point out, teasing a bit now, “and anyway, it seemed like you were already being ripped a new one.” 

“Still,” he mumbles into your hair. “You lit the lavender candles and everything. You deserve to put me through hell.” 

“You’re already going through hell,” you remind him gently, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “I don’t need to help the process along. Do you want some tea, love?” 

Remus hums. “I do, but let me get it. Let me get some for you, too, yeah?” He leans back to look down at you. “You want some nighttime tea, darling?” 

You’re alright really, but you tell him you do anyway. He looks nearly happy as he drags himself into the kitchen, and he won’t stop mollycoddling you for the rest of the night. 

[sophvilla]

Little Menace ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🧸^᪲᪲᪲

⋅˚₊‧ OT5 X Reader Series ‧₊˚ ⋅

Pairing: Husband! Beomgyu X PregnantWife Fem!reader Warning: General Fluff, Tooth-roting fluff, Written au, Pregnancy, Husband x Wife Genre: When Their Baby kicks for the First time

CHOI BEOMGYU | 범규

Beomgyu gets a little busy at times, but he does do his best to make time for you, especially when your pregnant with his first born.

Whenever He’s at home he brings in your weird cravings and stuffs you need even though he calls out your weird combination of cucumber and mayo, He still is there for you whenever you have a hormonal breakdown you keep having throughout the whole pregnancy.

While you blame on your husband that it’s his fault that your body is changing and getting fat, to which he clearly he refers,

“ Yes baby it's my fault that your body is transforming into a healthy safe place for our little buddy and turning you into a goddess but don’t you dare call yourself fat!! You look absolutely breathtaking as everyday passby and look I also have a baby belly”

In addition to that, He loves hanging out with you together with his group of friends as it kind of puts him at ease, knowing that you're accompanied by those people you’re comfortable to be with.

Today, He was doing some of his usual works in the studio while working on some guitar strings? Chords ? Anyways.

While you sat at lounge chatting and laughing with the other guys right outside of studio when suddenly you felt a kick at your lower abdomen causing you to gasp and telling huening kai to call Beomgyu right now.

No fiber of his being expected his youngest friend to burst into the room, grin filling his face, as he urgently call him, "Beomgyu hurry !! you have to see what just happened!"

With no hesitation, he abandons the followers and quickly follows the boy. he asks him, voice laced with concern, "is y/n okay? did something happen?"

His ‘ stupid friend ’ just giggle as they finally near your room. Kai speak up, "she is okay! but something important really did happen!"

Somehow, it sends Beomgyu more into panic, because just what happened and why is it so important to the point they had to call him?

As soon as , they are finally there, and Beomgyu wastes no time in sitting by your side, hands and eyes inspecting your body for an injury.

You giggle, "calm down, Gyu," you take his hand and guide it to your stomach, "can you feel it?"

"feel it? what do you mean-" he pauses upon the little kick against his palm. he smiles, actually grins, quietly before looking you in the eyes.

You nod with a smile of your own, while he leans down to kiss your stomach then your hand.

He rests his head against your stomach, "how are you, little buddy?"

You husband chuckles softly, "better not cause trouble for your pretty mom," his eyes lock with yours, "I hate to see her in pain or discomfort."

You roll your eyes before patting your husband's head, "you're quite the charmer, aren't you?"

"I would rather only charm you, y'know," he chuckles.

The both of you completely interrupted from your talk from the noise of gagging coming from the oldest friend of Beomgyu, Yeonjun, as He dramatically continue to gag at both of you as well as the pair of guys standing at the door way shook Their head at the oldest acting this way,

Only for Kai to pull out a camera and starts snapping a bunch of photos of the moment in front you saying he'd show this to your baby when he grows up.

Beomgyu snickers a little before teasing, “ Yeonjun Hyung, I’m starting to worry about your age these days, like seriously by the time I officially become a Dad you’d reach the age of a Grandpa, right ?"

As the oldest quirks an eyebrow at Gyu and turns towards you before saying

“ Y/n I Pray to God these days that the your child wouldn’t inherit his father traits, like I swear I can’t handle one Beomgyu already, I’m sure second one would be the death of me .”

With a soft sigh and a giggle, Beomgyu goes back to admiring you, hand rubbing circles on your stomach.

“ He’ll be just like his parents, The second Handsomest Little guy in the World, ofcourse after me !!” Beomgyu replies before receiving a smack from you and his friends.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Slasher Handler Part 11 - Slip Lead

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Read on AO3

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Implied stalking/surveillance, implied kidnapping, physical injury, deception/emotional manipulation, physical violence, injury with knife, genuinely not enough information, hidden weapons

Something about stabbing him, about meeting Price, has resulted in you being able to stray a bit farther from Simon’s orbit. You’re still on a rather short lead, there is a list of unspoken rules between the two of you as long as your arm. But you’re going out alone more. You don’t feel Simon’s eyes on you every moment he’s out of your sight. It’s weird.

But when it comes to Simon, it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. So you start a routine of going to the cafe down the street twice a week or so to work and see other human beings. It’s surprisingly difficult, some days. More than once, you’ve felt too exposed and retreated back home. These days, you have more good days than bad. As long as people don’t talk to you too much, you’re fine.

So it’s a bit jarring when someone clears his throat while you’re wrangling spreadsheets.

The man is in a light jacket, tee shirt and jeans. Looks like he works out. Kind of a stupid haircut, but he’s at least committed to it. Very distinct looking, Simon’s voice says in your head, easy to track. Unlikely to cause problems.

Something about him makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

“D’ya mind?” he gestures to the chair across from you. At your skeptical look, he rushes to assure you, “ Jus’ fer mah coffee, ‘n t’read,” holding up a thick paperback. He gestures to the rest of the cafe. “Wouldnae bother you, but this’s the only open chair.”

The shop is unusually crowded. You frown up at him. “I’m really busy.”

“Willnae hear a peep from me,” he promises, setting down his coffee and pulling out the chair across from you. He turns the chair so he’s facing more of the room instead of the corner you’re in. And he opens his book.

You watch him for a minute, but he doesn’t look up. It’s hard to shake the feeling that something is wrong, but you do need to work. With a last wary glance at him, you settle your headphones over your ears - transparency on - and get back to organizing a data set that reminds you of a ball of duct tape.

It’s time for a break before you know it. Your companion, true to his word, hasn’t said a peep since he sat down, more than an hour ago. He barely looks up as you close your laptop before turning back to his book. He does look up when you flag down one of the servers.

“Lunch,” you say, inanely. To the server, you say, “Can I get the chicken sandwich today?”

“Chips ‘n a lemonade, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

They turn to your table mate. “And for you?”

“The same, ah guess?” He raises his eyebrows at you, like he expects you to give him permission or something. He looks back at the server. “Yeah, a chicken piece for me, as well. ‘Nd a juice?”

“Separate checks?”

“Aye, ta,” the guy says. When the server leaves, he blanches. “Hope you dinnae mind.”

You do mind, but it’s not like he can sit anywhere else right now. “It’s fine.”

He sets his book on the table, and your eyebrows shoot up. Whatever you thought he’d be reading, Jurassic Park wasn’t it. He grins. “Ah ken. It’s old, yeah? But it’s a damn sight better’n the movie.”

“Isn’t that how it goes,” you say, vaguely. 

But you’ve already fallen into his trap. He turns his chair to face you, crossing his arms and leaning into the table. His eyes are unnervingly blue - somehow even bluer than Simon’s - and bright with interest. “’M serious. It’s not just that a character yells in the movie and speaks softly in the book, aye? In fact, the movie made Dr. Sattler older, aye? Great choice, emphasize ‘er expertise.” 

Aging up a woman character? You’re reluctantly intrigued. “She was a less important character in the book?”

“Nae,” the man scoffs. “She’s probably the first o’em to realize how shite the whole thing is. Notices things. Stuff the other’s aren’t payin’ attention to because she’s the plant expert, an’ naebody pays attention to plants.”

You find yourself drawn in, in spite of yourself. Johnny, as he introduces himself, has obviously been waiting for a chance to talk about it, but he’s not pushy. He excitedly pulls a pen from his pocket to doodle along with his explanations. By the time your food has arrived, he’s convinced you to at least try the audiobook.

“I cannae pay attention stuff in mah ears,” he says with a grin as he starts to dig in. “But I hear good things, if you don’t ‘ave time to sit an’ read the text.”

As you nod along, you look up and almost choke on your next swallow. Simon is outside, looking at you through the window with raised eyebrows above his usual black surgical mask. His eyes flick to give the man at your table an obvious once over. And then he turns away and walks out of sight.

“Ye alrigh’?” Johnnys’ eyebrows are up near his hairline when you look back at him. “Ye look like ye’ve seen a ghost.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, torn between staying seated and the urge to run after Simon. You can’t help but look at the window again, but he’s gone, there’s nothing for it. “Sorry, I thought… Sorry. Yeah, I’ll get the audiobook.”

When you get home, Simon is on the couch, the TV on with the volume low. He watches you, like he always does, as you take off your shoes and shuffle around to put away your things. When you finally join him on the couch, you find that he’s watching a nature documentary. A crocodile slides under the water with barely a ripple.

“He was only sitting with me because there wasn’t anywhere else,” you rush to say.

Simon turns to cock his head at you. “You get ‘is name?”

“John. Johnny,” you answer. “He told me about his book, but I left as soon as we were done eating.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. He lifts the arm closest to you, pulling you close as you settle into his side. “’S good to have friends, Precious.”

“He’s not a friend. Just some guy out to lunch like everyone else.” 

“You let him stay,” Simon points out. He squeezes you in a rough approximation of a one armed hug. “Been nervous around people, but you’re gettin’ better.”

This isn’t what you expected. You can’t help but side-eye him. “You’re… proud of me?”

Simon’s lips press gently against your forehead. “’S long as you pick better this time, I don’t mind you ‘aving friends. Can’t keep you all to myself forever. ‘Sides, you’ve marked me proper, ‘aven’t you? Got me as your little pet. Johnny’s not gonna be a problem.”

The little pink scar around his ribs is little more than a raised line. You slide your fingers under his shirt to pet at it. Among all of his scars, it’s one of the smallest. You’d cried the first time he’d let you see under the bandages.

“You’re not a pet,” you grumble, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re an alligator who won’t leave my house.”

“Your alligator, now,” Simon agrees. He focuses back on the television, seemingly done with the conversation.

You could leave it at that. But you turn to face him, instead. “You’re not mad?”

“Not unless ‘e ‘urts ya.” Simon presses his lips against your hair. “An’ I wouldn’t let that ‘appen.”

The following week, though, he stands over you with an exaggerated grimace at how crowded the place is. “Och, d’ya mind?”

Johnny is there the next time you go to the cafe. He waves from his table, but ducks back into his notebook without waving you over. So you work from your own table in peace. When you take a break for lunch, he’s gone. Two days later, it’s the same. It’s easier to concentrate, now that you’re less worried that he’ll take the conversation from the other day as an invitation. 

With a sigh, you clear some space for him. But just like last time, he keeps to himself, reading and occasionally jotting things down in his notebook. It’s not until just before lunch that he breaks the silence.

“D’y’ve a boyfriend then?” You can’t keep yourself from cringing fast enough, apparently, because he laughs. “Sorry, sorry, shouldnae asked.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you grumble.

“Aw,” he coos. “Don’ worry hen. You’re right bonnie. Ah’m sure they’ll come around, whoever they are.”

That would be sweet, if it wasn’t so painfully off base. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Oh, you’re right done wit’ me,” he laughs. “Ah ken’t I shoulda kept mah mouth shut. Ma always said runnin’ mah mouth would get me into trouble. I won’t bother ye again.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s fine. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

He doesn’t push, and you’re grateful. But when it comes time to pay for lunch, he insists on paying. It grates on your nerves. A gift from a guy is never just generosity, you learned that long before Brandon. But you clench your jaw and pack your bag up a bit more roughly than usual and say your goodbyes.

“They didn’t have the brownies you wanted,” you announce as you return home from the grocer, two days later. “I think it was a limited edi…tion…”

You notice Simon watching through the window, but he’s there and gone before you can get a read on his expression.

There’s a smattering of blood on the entryway carpet.

You don’t drop the bag with the eggs, but only because your muscles are locked up. Did someone break into the apartment? Was Simon here when they did, or next door? Did they leave? Did he take them?

A sound makes you gasp before you bite your tongue hard enough to taste blood. And then again, a muffled groan, close, from the direction of your couch. 

It’s not Simon’s voice.

You gently set your bags down and reach behind the coats for the blackjack Simon insisted on leaving there for security. There’s a rustling. Another groan. You stoop low, trying to make yourself a smaller target, and creep around the edge of the couch.

When you see Johnny, bound and gagged, shirt covered in blood where he lies on the floor, your stomach drops so fast you feel dizzy.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you whisper, dropping the jack with a thump. You crawl over to him, looking around frantically. Simon is nowhere to be seen. But he did this. He had to have done this. Right?

Johnny twitches, groans again, eyelids fluttering open. When he sees you, his eyes go wide, and he frantically tries to sit up.

“No, don’t! I don’t know where you’re hurt,” you hiss. You reach around his head to untie the cloth that’s gagging him. “Oh my god-”

“We gotta get out’f here, bonnie,” he grunts, leaning into your hands as you help him upright. He spits blood on the floor. “No tellin’ when that mental bastard gets back.”

“Oh god,” you whisper again, touching the front of his shirt. It’s dark and sticky in a bloom across his chest. “Where are you hurt? Did he stab you?”

“Ah’m okay,” he grunts. “A bit banged up, but ah’ll live.”

You swallow down the urge to vomit. “There’s a lot of blood, Johnny.”

“S’nae all mine,” he answers. “C’mon, untie me, before Simon gets back.”

You’re shifting to reach behind him before your mind catches up. You can feel the blood drain from your face. “W-what? What did you say?”

“We need to get out of here!”

“No, you said his name, you called him - ”

“Simon? That’s what ye called him when you came home,” he hisses. 

“No, I didn’t,” you whisper, body stuttering between frozen and electrified. You never call Simon’s name where others can hear. “And - and I - you - you were unconscious.”

Shining blue eyes stare into yours from two inches away. Johnny’s bloody mouth curls into a smile. “Oh, he’s trained you up good, he has.”

You scream when he lunges forward, huge arms grabbing at you. 

His weight crushes the air out of your lungs when your back hits the ground. You twist under him, using the arm he hasn’t trapped to grab his hair and yank. He swears, and loosens his hold just enough that you’re able to free your other hand and jab him in the throat.

You expect the way that he chokes, but the hand he’s twisted in the back of your shirt stays locked tight. He coughs out a frenzied laugh as you twist. Your heart races as he prevents you from getting your knees up between your belly and his. But he doesn’t expect you to hammer the heel of your boot against the back of his knee, or how you use the leverage against his leg to roll away onto your belly. 

He doesn’t let go of you, but that’s fine, that’s okay, as long as you can reach under the edge of the couch. Johnny pounces, body curling around you without quite pinning you down. His fingers twist into your hair in an echo of how you wrenched at him. But he doesn’t stop your hand, grabbing the leg of the couch and then reaching under and up and-

“Try again, Bonnie,” Johnny chuckles into your ear when your hand meets nothing but cotton and wood.

Your heart doesn’t have time to stop. The grinding pain between your hip bone and the floor makes you pop up your pelvis and reach down. The tiny knife, Little K, jumps to your hand. It’s so easy to flick it open, you think you almost cut your own belly as you heave. Johnny rides you for a moment, then pops up onto his knees to let you roll freely.

You don’t have time to decide, gut or femoral, you just swing. Denim parts, pressure - 

Johnny yelps.

His weight is suddenly gone, and the arc of your arm slams the back of your hand and your elbow onto the carpet. It’s a shock, almost hard enough to make you drop the knife. You flick your eyes around, nearly blind with tunnel vision, and see Johnny standing over you. His jeans are slashed, outer thigh almost to crotch, but you can’t see blood, fuck.

He sways, oddly. Is your vision swimming? He doesn’t descend on you again, though, just laughs and wiggles. One of his feet isn’t on the ground, his injured leg is dangling, did you get him?

You imagine you can see Simon’s face, a little angry and a little amused. If you die here, Johnny will live to see his own intestines, you know it. Even if you survive, he won’t. Simon might gift you another skull. The thought almost has a laugh bubbling out of you. 

“You stupid motherfucker,” you hiss. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it.”

Simon’s voice startles you into action. You’re off your back and scrabbling backward in and instant as he manifests behind Johnny. Except, you realize, that Simon is holding Johnny up, one arm snaked under Johnny’s and hand around the back of his neck. That’s why Johnny looks off balance, it’s because he is, because Simon is here, he’s going to save you-

“Did real good, Precious,” Simon says with a grin. “Knew you’d get along.”

What? “What?”

Simon says something else, but you can barely hear him over your heart pounding in your ears. But you hear it when Johnny laughs. You see when Simon releases him with a ruffle to his mohawk and a shove toward the armchair. Before you know it, Simon’s scooped you into his arms and taken his usual seat on the couch. He pries the knife from your hand and snaps it closed. 

“Told you I was thinkin’ of gettin you a dog,” Simon rumbles, sitting you in his lap so your back is against his chest. Before you can protest that no, he never once mentioned a fucking dog, he continues, “This’n’s mostly ‘ousebroken, already. Soap needs a firm ‘and, but you c’n ‘andle him. 

Soap? What the fuck does soap have to do with anything? What kind of a name is…

"Oi!” Simon barks. “Off the furniture.”

Your stomach drops as you remember John Price, two months ago now. “Soap’s supposed to be my troublemaker, not you.” Soap.

When your wide eyes swing to him,  Johnny’s face is split into a toothy grin. He tips his head back against the seat of the arm chair. One of his hands touches the blood blooming through his jeans and brings it up to his lips. He laves his tongue over his fingers. “Ah’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ to know you, Bonnie.”

A part of you wants to get up and slit his throat. The rest of you slumps back into Simon’s chest and bursts into tears.

[felassan]

From Game Informer:

Solas plays an important role in the game as a central figure and significant character, but the game is not about Solas, hence the title change

Rather than focusing on a specific individual, the focus and centerpiece of the game is Rook's team, stopping the end of the world with this group of specialists

"I think you could argue [these companions] are the best the franchise has ever seen". We will have the opportunity to interact with them in a way that both shapes their story and also influences the main story, including having the opportunity to impact their fate

"Arguably, this game has kind of, in a way, been called Dreadwolf to some degree since its earlier days"

Excerpt:

"When I ask about Solas' role in the story after I learn his namesake is no longer in the game title, Darrah says Veilguard is still taking the Elven God's narrative in a good direction. He adds, "It allows us to, hopefully, give a good conclusion to all the varied attitudes toward Solas that are going to be coming from people who love Solas, who agree with Solas, who hate Solas, people who want to kick Solas off of a building – I think that we give you the opportunity to bring that to a close, but then tell a greater story about The Veilguard and about the world as a whole." Talking to Epler, I learn more about how Solas isn't exactly the big bad I expected before seeing the opening hours of Veilguard. There's a lot more nuance to everyone's favorite bald elf.  "The most interesting villains to myself, and honestly most people, are not just straight up, 'I want to end the world.' To them, they are the heroes of the story, and Solas is no exception," Epler tells me. "Solas always feels that he is a tragic hero but a hero nonetheless, so he's coming into this believing firmly that what he did, that which you stopped him from doing, was the right thing – that you made a mistake. But now he's trapped and can't reach out and actively affect [Thedas], so he needs to work with you. "That allows us to provide a lot of nuance to that relationship," Epler says."

Solas is literally trapped in the Fade after the game's prologue. Rook and co stop his attempt to destroy the Veil. Rook passes out and wakes up in a dream-like landscape to Solas' voice. He explains that he was trying to move Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain to a new prison because the old one wasn't containing them properly anymore. The two blighted gods are now free and roaming Thedas. Rook has to stop them, but it seems that they will have to work with Solas ("or at least listen to his guidance and advice") to do so

Excerpt:

""So one of the principles we took to when we were building the story of The Veilguard early on was we wanted the beginning of the game to feel like the final chapter of an earlier story and you're coming in right at the end, you're coming in as if you've been chasing Solas – the [Solas at the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition's Trespasser DLC] who said he was going to end the world and tear down the Veil," Epler adds.  Epler says players will see early on (and as the narrative develops across Veilguard) that Solas sees much of himself in you, the player-controlled Rook, especially "the parts that maybe he doesn't like to face." As a result, there's an interesting push and pull between Solas and Rook. He says players can define the relationship between these two characters with their choices in dialogue.  "You can continue to be suspicious and hostile towards him, or you can start to see him and find that common ground, that connection between the two of you, and really develop a different relationship over the course of the story," Epler says."

[source]

[moonlightsapphic]

Look, I just need you guys to understand how important queer coming-of-age forbidden romances on internationally accessible platforms like Netflix is, especially to youth in countries where homosexuality still hasn't been legally decriminalised or socially accepted.

That was a mouthful, so let me explain. You, a white American adult with a liberal family, may not relate to a fictional anxious teen Swedish prince grappling with strict familial and societal expectations versus his first love. You may not find anything special in a bunch of queer British teens discovering themselves and figuring out complex relationships that are honestly rather simplistic, in retrospect. It might be a little too trite for you. Like, just a little vanilla without any extra drama. Perhaps corny—cringe, even. Too wholesome.

But you know what that is to me, a desi queer young adult? It's representation, in an unlikely place. My country certainly isn't making movies or shows where I see my secret relationship between me and my girlfriend portrayed. I don't see that happening in the next couple of decades, either, sadly. But you know who’s telling our stories? Alice Oseman. Lisa Ambjörn, Lars Beckung and Camilla Holter. Through fictional storylines that might seem kind of boring to you, I am finally able watch my lived experiences play out on screen.

American media has done such a disservice to queer coming-of-age stories. I want to scream this from the rooftops. Y’all, I’m glad to see more out quirky queer side-characters—I can’t get enough of them—but why is it so rarely their story, in sharp focus, about how they found themselves? I want to know how they overcame internalised homophobia. When was the moment they knew? What is the cost they have to pay for being out? For not being out?

And no, I don’t want it to be dramatic. I don’t need to see violence or betrayals or victorious kisses in public, really. I’m happiest with the teenagers behaving like real teenagers. Innocent, vulnerable, nervous. I want it to be heartfelt, and excruciatingly slow, and authentic. I want to see the small wins and the subtle losses. The quiet mental toll of how much you have to give to a queer relationship—especially your first queer relationship—and how hard that can be to separate from your Identity itself.

Give me that "am I gay?" quiz and genuinely crying at 3:00 AM because you're in a rabbit hole about LGBTQ+ rights in a country where you actually don’t want to be gay and you don’t even know if you “count” anyway. Show me that moment where you're going back and forth from forbidding yourself from seeing the one person that sees and understands you and it's to protect your mental and physical well-being but it's driving you insane. Give me ALL THE YOUNG ADULT BI+ AWAKENINGS where one person strolls into your life and changes everything. No, it’s really not the same as most cis-heterosexual insta-love movies out there, even if it looks that way to you. It doesn’t even cut it close.

The happy ending, the acceptance is only what I can dream of, not what I can expect. The wholesomeness is actually radical to me.

No, we’re not past the need for basic star-crossed queer romances. For most countries in the world (including for many white American teenagers!), we need them as much as ever.

[tasbcl]

oh god imagine Connor with a very shy girl (not projecting at all), that never felt so loved and appreciated in her life before him, and now she’s being a pouty in his arms mewling and gasping, still trying to hide her face while he’s fucking her so nicely and gently taking her hands off her face to kiss her <33 I’m sorry of this is not perfect, but it’s just allll of my thoughts lately

HE WOULD ABSOLUTELY MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE THE ONLY GIRL IN THE WORLD.

god, in the beginning of knowing each other connor would’ve probably been complimenting you all the time. when you greet each other, it’s ‘I like the hairstyle you have today!’ or ‘your outfit is pretty’ or just straight up ‘you’re pretty’. gets you all flushed and embarrassed, because not only does it warm your heart to hear things you’ve never thought about yourself before, but because he probably only says it just to be kind. right?

it’s embarrassing how quickly he realises you don’t really feel confident in yourself, you always let others talk over you and you’d rather disappear into the crowd than have the spotlight on you. he doesn’t remember assigning himself it, but suddenly a new mission objective is prioritised over the thing he was built for— to make you feel appreciated.

when you fuck for the first time, connor is just so eager and strangely needy, not realising these new feelings he’d been bottling up for you all this time until he gets you in bed and suddenly his hands are tugging at your clothes and caressing your skin. your cheeks are flushed pink, almost red, and you can’t help but instinctively hide yourself from his view. another strong emotion comes along in his chassis, frustration, because that just won’t do. his hard, cold hands aren’t rough, but aren’t soft when he pulls away your own hands that try to hide your soft, intimate flesh he so craves to see.

a kiss to your cheek, then the other, and then your lips before he murmurs to you, “don’t hide yourself from me.” it’s enough to get you wet (well, wetter) at his order. you obey, not without some reluctance, and he rewards you greatly.

his mission was easier to accomplish than expected, because by the start of it, the embarrassment and anxiety are all but kissed away by him and you’re keening and moaning for more, just like he wanted. his lips had been all over your body, your chest, your stomach, your legs. worshipping you, forcing you to understand how important and perfect you were. he’d had you dangling on the edge for ages, begging for him to just take you. when he did, he wasn’t gentle. he knew just what you needed, exactly what would have you breaking so he could piece you back together afterwards. his thrusts are slow but deep, his eyes are constantly roving over your body and face, to the point you had to literally hide your eyes from him out of how heavy his gaze felt. of course he doesn’t appreciate it. but he doesn’t try and punish you, because he knows you, so he takes your fingers off of your face and intwines his own with them, pinning them down to the bed while he fucks into you slowly. his lips find yours again to reassure you, then trail down your jaw, your neck… yeah

[monstrousproductions]

PSST.

You wanna know a secret?

Neurotypical people use scripts too.

I'm neurodivergent and I struggle a lot with meeting new people. The only thing that helps me is scripting - planning the conversation beforehand, practicing the questions I'm going to ask, the anecdotes I can tell, all that jazz.

But what really helped me turn a corner was realising that neurotypicals are scripting too. Everyone in the supermarket is expecting the conversation with the cashier to go a certain way. I don't have to worry about being funny or interesting - I just have to play my part, and they'll play theirs, and we'll both go away from the interaction content!

And I know this is the Anti Small Talk website I knowwwwww. But small talk serves a vital social function! You can't just jump straight from Stranger to Friend - you need to do the intermediary steps first, or at least get introduced! Besides, it helps make brief, transactional interactions - like being served in a shop, for example - feel a bit more friendly, which, why wouldn't you want to make things more friendly??

It also - and let us simply speak in hypotheticals here - it also means that, for example, if you are an innocent podcaster who found themselves at a wedding a few weeks ago where you knew very few people, and, through various circumstances, ended up being sat at a table on the other side of the room to the people you actually did know, you wouldn't have had to spend the entire meal sitting in awkward silence because nobody else at your table knew how to make conversation with strangers. Hypothetically. For example. 🙃

And look. I get it. Meeting people can be awkward and uncomfortable, especially if you're neurodivergent. But there are things you can learn that can help minimise that awkwardness, or at least help you come across as 'harmlessly odd and doing their best' (my personal favourite social niche).

Society likes to pretend these skills are inherent. But babies aren't born knowing how to do any of this! We have to learn. As a neurodivergent person, I had to learn that skill very consciously, and rather later than some of my neurotypical peers - but they had to learn it too!!

And like every other skill, the only way you can improve is practice. You gotta put the time in. But that time pays off. I'm in my 30s, and by now, I have scripts on scripts, with variations for all sorts of different contexts. It's like a database I access, filtering through it for Middle Aged Woman In Professional Setting or Chatty Toddler On Bus or Millennial Programmer at Casual Social Event.

At this point, I feel pretty fluent in most social situations. It's not foolproof - I got so nervous at the pharmacists last week, I stammered too much for the clerk to understand me and had to start the whole interaction over 😶 But it makes life much easier, and - just as important - helps me to make stressful situations easier for other people, too.

So, please, if you struggle with small talk, can you do me a favour? Can you think of three questions you could ask a stranger? You want to keep them open-ended (no yes/no answers), friendly but not intrusive, and avoid anything that makes an assumption about the other person.

For example, I tend to go for, "What kind of thing do you like to do for fun?" instead of asking about work, because lots of people don't have jobs for all sorts of reasons they might not want to tell me, a random person at their friend's birthday party.

I'm also a huge fan of asking why people like something they said they like, or how they got into it. People like to talk about things they enjoy, and I like to hear about it!

Once you've got a set of questions to ask, you can have a think about your own responses. If someone asks you how you know the friend you have in common, what can you say that will keep the conversation going?

If they mention the weather, what could you say in response? It's been warm in Belfast recently after a cold snap, and I'm a bit annoyed because I was excited to wear all my woolly jumpers again. I've expressed that exact sentiment to four cashiers and three taxi drivers this month alone - and I'll do it again!!

Finally, above all, pay attention. Keep your head up, and try and see who's talking and who isn't. If you notice someone might not be getting chance to join in the conversation, you can bring them in by moving your attention to address them while you're answering someone else. Then, address your next question to them more directly.

The thing is, like I said, neurotypicals are scripting too. They'll be expecting this kind of chat. They'll be prepared. They're expecting to be asked this kind of thing, and to say the same kind of thing in return. There's no trick to it - they just learnt the script earlier than us, and without having to be told explicitly that it existed 😂

It's hard. I know it's hard. But you can learn, and it is worth learning - for your own sake, but also for the sake of your fellow wedding guests/birthday party attendees/newbies at the book club 😅

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I wanna say there's some pretty descriptive talk about depression in this chapter, just as a heads up. Anyways, it's my weekend and I'm going to be absolutely zooted every single day so the next chapter will most likely be out Monday morning PST lol.

Cross-posted on AO3

Session 3: Blocking In Color

It was nearly three weeks until you saw Leon again.

You tried to call him a couple days after he'd left that day, a few more times over the following week, but to no avail. The man was unreachable.

Even though you did your best to convince yourself that you just wanted to get his painting started, "It was an important one", you knew that you were really just worried about him.

You've seen this kind of dismay with the other retired agents that've had a portrait painted in the past, but they at least recognized what they'd been through.

Leon hasn't. You could just tell.

Looking over the sketches you made of his face, you couldn't help but wonder what exactly he'd been thinking about the last time he was here. He seemed so bothered, acting like he was hiding it so well, too.

Then again, you did drop a rather large bombshell on the guy while he was in a pretty vulnerable state, but you thought he knew what the portrait he was going to receive was suppose to mean. Again, most of the retired agents you'd seen were similar to Leon in that regard and even they at least had a basic grasp on the finality of it all. So why didn't he?

You nursed your bottom lip, still staring at the sketches laying in front of you while you sat at one of your desks in the corner. You normally don't come to your workspace unless you're actively painting, yet you'd shown up everyday in hopes Leon would randomly pop in. He seemed like the kind of guy to just kind of show up, anyways...

If you had just gotten a picture that day you've could've at least started working out the positioning for his portrait. Unfortunately, he wasn't in any position mentally to put up with anymore of your shenanigans at the time, it seemed.

You really did try your best to get ahold of Leon, eventually giving up a few days ago. You'd already emailed the President, who had been the one to personally commission you unlike with previous ex-agents, letting him know that it's going to be longer than expected. Thankfully he was understanding, knowing rather well how much the whole retirement thing was weighing on Leon.

You'll come back tomorrow and try again. Even the next day, and the day after that if you have to, and so on and so forth.

Guilty. That's all Leon felt right now.

He's been shelled up in his house since the moment he got home after leaving your building, withering away by the minute.

He hadn't showered, barely eaten, only ever really pulling himself from what little comfort his room offered to grab whatever bottle he touched first in the cabinet. Leon didn't care, just as long as it was something.

Chris had been over a couple times after he stopped responding to his messages, doing his best to get him out of the house. Claire had been over a few times more than her brother had, bringing groceries once she'd heard about the sad state Leon was keeping himself in.

It broke both their hearts, but they could only do so much for him. Leon was stubborn, head strong, he wasn't the kind to sway to many forces. He had somehow gaslit himself into thinking he was doing well. "Just peachy", even.

Clearly that wasn't the case, both Chris and Claire could see that. They'd have to be blind not to.

Having been in contact with Leon's government-assigned therapist, Chris tried to set up an at-home meeting for him one day. That turned out to be a disaster seeing as Leon was bordering on blackout drunk and could barely keep his eyes open. Not to mention the vomiting.

Claire even tried to bathe Leon. She only got far enough to wash his hair in his kitchen sink, using his vomit-covered mouth as an excuse to keep him over the sink long enough to shampoo his greasy, stringy hair.

All of it was weighing on him too much. He felt so guilty for making his friends feel like they had to babysit him, ignoring everyone's calls and messages, your calls and messages. That kind of thought process quickly spiraled into him reliving the worst days of his life, having to through suffer so many flashbacks and nightmares, not sleeping because of it. He rarely ever felt safe enough to get under the covers on his bed.

None of this is what he wanted. If it were up to him, he'd start all over; be twenty-one again, work as a cop, maybe get promoted a few times, find a girlfriend, start a family, have a normal life. Why couldn't he have that?

Staying awake night after night, Leon would stare at the ceiling in his bedroom and fantasize about the wonderful life he could've had, the happy memories he could've made. It would make him weep, longing for something that never could've been.

Instead, Leon was stuck with endless images of horror, death, and gore every time he blinked, and oh was he bitter about it all. So bitter, so angry, so...

Feeling sorry for himself was all he could do now. Sure, he killed all those monsters and zombies, saved all those people, not once did he think about himself through the years. Now he had all the time in the world to question and wonder, and having to think about himself and what he wanted most made him feel like a needy, greedy bastard.

But wasn't he allowed to be greedy, if only just a little? He had wants, needs, and though he wanted so desperately to change his past, he knew he couldn't. So, what did he want now? That, he didn't know.

Guilty for feeling this way, guilty for wanting different, guilty for wanting anything good for himself.

It took the better part of those two weeks for Leon to finally muster up some form of energy to stumble into his bathroom and shower one afternoon, dizzy and nauseous. The light emanating from the rest of his house was blinding, not having even bothered to close the shades he had on any of his windows. His room was kept a cave and that's where he stayed.

Leon now found himself sitting down in the shower just like before he'd decided to retire, only this time it was mostly to keep from slipping and dying. The last thing he needed anyone to see was him naked and dead in the shower. Embarrassing.

His thoughts at the moment were shallow, still pretty drunk from his bender, head lulling back and forth a bit as his vision spun. He was finally hungry again, the heat from the shower making that all the more obvious as he grew lightheaded, but he didn't know what he wanted.

After managing to actually crawl his way out of the shower, he dug through the pile of dirty laundry at the end of his bed, finding a pair of boxers that didn't smell too terrible to put on.

Leon used the wall heavily for support to walk out into his kitchen, muttering curses under his breath at just how bright it was. Opening his freezer, he stared at the meal prep containers left by Claire, grabbing one to attempt and read what she'd wrote on the sticky note attached to the lid.

That's right... She made him little meals, even putting them in the freezer so they didn't go bad as fast. All he had to do was put it in the microwave.

Simple enough, he could do that.

The one he chose was meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Just the sound of it had his stomach rumbling and his mind craving the comforting taste of a home cooked meal.

The first few bites in made Leon feel nauseous again, but once those bites hit his stomach the feeling immediately gave way to just how hungry he actually was.

He tried to pace himself, he really did try, yet he managed to devour the food in front of him in a matter of minutes, only pausing every few seconds to breathe. It felt so good, something warm in his stomach. Filling in all the right ways. Once he finished, he pushed the empty container away and just laid his head down sideways on the cool countertop, closing his eyes as he let the food settle.

As much as he wanted to degrade himself for acting this way, reducing himself to such a weird and pathetic state, Leon didn't have the mind to. All he knew right now was that the warmth that the meal Claire made him. Not to sound cliche, but he genuinely believed he could taste the love cooked into it.

For the first time in what was now two and a half weeks, Leon was awake and alert when Chris and Claire came over again. He'd eaten everything Claire made, holding all the now cleaned containers out to her. It was a silent plea for more, and lucky for Leon, she had just made another grocery trip for him.

Unbeknownst to him, Claire had been cooking here at his house. This entire time he thought she'd been bringing the meals over, assumed to be leftovers from cooking for her family. She did confess to hoping the smell of the food cooking would pull him from his room. It didn't, much to her dismay, but now she was just glad he was up and eating again.

As soon as Leon tried to apologize for dragging her away from her family, she was quick to shut him down with that mom stare she'd developed after having her kids. It worked, especially on him.

Chris was busy chatting up Leon while Claire cooked him another set of meals for the next week. It was hard to converse, but Leon did manage to nod and him as the other man talked about some random encounter he had the other day while out driving.

It was strange to feel so lively again. Those thoughts still clung to the back of his mind, though all he could focus on were his friends taking care of him like one of their own. Leon feels like he's been a terrible friend lately, seems as though the siblings standing in his kitchen didn't feel the same. He wasn't showing it, but Leon was definitely holding back a smile.

A couple hours had past, Chris opting to stay with Leon and eat lunch since Claire had to head back and help her husband with something.

The hug Claire gave Leon was phenomenal. After the hug he shared with you he's been craving that physical contact more than ever, so finally getting another good squeeze from a friend was boosting his mood.

Chris and him sat, ate, and talked about whatever came to mind, eventually asking about you.

"How's the painting coming along? Do you like the painter?" He smiled, looking at Leon with wide, curious eyes. That man always had a smile gracing his features.

Leon shrugged, taking a sip from the water he poured himself not too long ago. He was pretty dehydrated after solely drinking alcohol for the past couple weeks. "She's alright. Haven't started the painting yet."

Chris raised an eyebrow, placing his arms on the counter and crossed them as he leaned forward slightly. "Just 'alright'?" he emphasized the word "alright" with air quotes, which caused Leon to scoff.

"What else do you want me to say? I've seen her twice so far and its been fine." Leon lifted his hands up in confusion, palms facing the ceiling as he watched the man sitting next to him rolled his eyes dramatically. "C'mon, she was amazing for Claire and I- Okay, how about this..."

Chris repositioned himself so his entire upper body was facing him now, leaning in a little closer to ask another question. "Do you like the room she works in? Cause I thought it was pretty comfy. When she was focusing on Claire's part of the portrait, I took a nap over on that rug she had. All those pillows mixed with the classical music knocked me the fuck out."

He laughed, shaking his head at memory before looking over at Leon again. "So...? And don't lie to me, I saw that pillow on your couch."

Leon sucked on his teeth and hummed, glancing over his shoulder at his couch. "It's cozy, yeah." He brought his head back forward, patting his hands gently against the counter.

The two chatted for awhile longer before Chris eventually had to leave, giving Leon a firm pat on the shoulder while shaking him a bit. After he left, Leon was left to sit alone and think again, only difference now is he felt better. He was crazy tired, his social battery quickly drained from having his friends around, but he felt good nonetheless.

He wasn't ready at the time, yet after a sober night with solid sleep, Leon woke up the next morning and decided to just text you, hoping you weren't mad at him. Calling would've been too much at that moment, not even have listened to the voicemails you left, or anyone's, for that matter.

His chest felt tight after sending the text, but it was quickly eased about ten minutes later when you responded with nothing but enthusiasm. The smiley face you added at the end of your message made him smile, quickly wiping it away with his hand.

Your next session was arranged two days ahead of time in the late afternoon. Leon wanted to give himself enough time to recollect since he needed to look his best the following weeks. You told him it was time to start with the main painting, which you still needed a picture for.

During that time he finally shaved his stubble, went out and got his hair trimmed, tackled all the laundry he'd neglected, and got his best suit dry cleaned. All thoughts aside, he felt good and wanted to stay this way.

Needless to say, Leon was jittery when he pulled up to your workplace again. He was finally letting himself feel excited again about this painting. If it's anything close to what Chris and Claire's portrait is, then that excitement will only continue to grow the further along you get.

You were already there waiting for him at the door, a gentle smile on your face. That wonderful soft perfume that he missed reaching his nose once more as you lead him up the stairs and through the other door. Chris was right, if he had the opportunity, he'd take a nap on your rug. It looked mighty comfy.

Leon was thankful you didn't ask any questions on his whereabouts, he wasn't ready to talk. You were just as excited as he was about getting the painting started, if not more. Watching you eagerly move back and forth between the larger easel and your desks was a refreshing sight to the man.

You stood at your easel for a couple minutes, just silently looking from the blank canvas to where he was sat. You told him to get into a comfortable position, prompting him rest his right leg on his left knee, leaning back and to the side so he was sitting at a slight angle, arms resting on the chair's armrests.

You stared at him for a few seconds, tilting your head side to side with your eyes squinted. "Let me just-" you spoke in a hushed voice, walking over to Leon before cautiously reaching out to rest one hand on the underside on his chin while the other hovered over the side of his face.

You weren't an idiot, you knew what his absence was from. So you made sure to be careful with him, knowing he was probably still pretty fragile. Only gentle and cautious touches for Mr. Kennedy.

So close yet so far. His skin tingled in your hands wake, and god he hoped you couldn't notice his blush.

You could, but you wouldn't say anything. Besides, you weren't faring well yourself, hands a little shaky as you touched his face.

Leon just let you move his head to whatever position you wanted, his eyes now half-lidded as you had walked back a couple times to get just the right angle. You pulled away for a final time with a small "aha!" and he wished you would hold his head for just a little longer.

The floor where your easel sat was marked with an 'X' made with painter's tape, making it easy for you to stay in the right spot for the photo once you pushed the easel out of the way.

"Don't move." You held your hands up after analyzing his position, quickly hurrying over the corner opposite of your desks to grab a bulky camera that sat atop a tall tripod. You worked as fast as you could, knowing as long as you had a picture with him in this position then this whole process would go so much smoother.

You didn't even have to ask Leon to smile or look up at the camera since he was sitting there with a rather dopey smile, his eyes remaining trained right on yours. Nice and natural. He looked relaxed which is exactly what you wanted.

Just as a precaution, you took multiple pictures, giving him a thumbs up once you figured you'd gotten enough. His head back to rest on the chair at the okay, listening to the sound of you walk over to your laptop after untwisting the camera from the tripod. You printed out 3 copies of the photograph and taped one to a stand you had brought over to sit next to the easel, making sure it sat eye level to you.

The ball was finally rolling, now having what you needed to start with the main sketch. When Leon lifted his head up, he noticed that you were ready, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose while he shifted a little to get back in just the right position.

You twirled your pencil between your fingers before beginning to roughly sketch out the chair, eyebrows furrowing as you focused. Leon could see your expression, how intensely you zoned into your work. It was incredibly admirable and he found himself fully content in just watching you do your thing.

It didn't take long before you had sketched out his general shapes, now walking over to take the sketches you made of his face out of your sketchbook to clip up right next to the reference photo. The more finer details would be added later, but you wanted to get just the basic shapes of his face.

That didn't take long either, because before Leon knew it, you were telling him it was okay to talk. He was pretty animated with his hands when he talked, so you kept him quiet until now.

"Am I easy to draw?" Leon spoke with an almost sultry tone after a few seconds of you telling him he could speak. It threw you off only a bit, carding your fingers through your hair as you took one step back to look at what you had so far.

"I wanna say yes and no." You responded, catching his questioning look from the corner of your eye. "You're easy to sketch out, yes, but your hair is giving me trouble." You could hear a low chuckle rumble from his chest as you stepped back forward. "Hey, you asked." You laughed back.

"I know, I know." He shook his head with a poorly hidden grin, tilting his head down to try and hide it a little better. You immediately pointed your pencil at him, not taking your eyes off the canvas. "I said you could talk, not move." Your sarcastic tone made him chuckle again, slowly lifting his head back up with a sigh.

"Yes, ma'am." You could just hear the smirk in his words, causing you to let out a sigh of your own.

By the time the sun had started to set, you had blocked out all the simple colors for the painting. Right now, it just looked like a very bland and abstract painting. It'll come together, slowly but surely. Trust the process, as people say.

Leon was in awe already, having stood up to look at your progress as you washed your hands over in the small bathroom. Oil paints smeared something fierce and as much as you loved your job, you did not want feel oily at home.

"It already looks stunning." You heard the man say from where he stood in front of the easel. It wasn't quite registering in his brain that it was him on that canvas just yet, but hopefully soon it would.

He wanted to recognize himself in something as wonderful as your art.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not helping my family pay for hospital bills?

🎷🔥 so i can find it later

This is going to need a lot of context right off the bat. I (20'sM) am a gay man that comes from an extremely conservative family. My sister (20'sF) is also a lesbian and recently got married and adopted a child. I'm very proud of her, but that's not the issue.

My parents seem to have little to no issue with my sister marrying a woman. They do have a very big issue with me liking dudes, however. Like, it was the reason my parents got divorced "big issue." I'm not gonna go into everything, but my sister ended up with my dad and I stayed with my mom for reasons I'd rather not share.

Our last parting was on... less than decent terms. Upon finding out that I was of the homosexual variety, my dad flipped his lid. He called me several slurs and said some other very hurtful things, and even made moves to physically attack me. My mom, also a very homophobic woman, stepped in and thankfully talked him down. Then divorce, etc etc.

I saved up enough money to move out when I turned 18 and may have done some impulsive things including completely trashing my mom's bathroom, which I know I'm definitely the asshole for, but in my defense my mom kept "forgetting" to pick up my prescriptions and I was manic (I have bipolar). But, again, I know I'm the AH for that.

I now live with my two best friends R (20sNB) and P (20sM) in a house we all pay for. R comes from money so they help out a lot, and I love them both to death. We kind of have a sort of situationship but none of us are poly? Idk it's weird we're just going with it rn.

Anyway, I bring them up bc we all went to my sister's wedding together, and my parents separately chewed me out for bringing them (and for R daring to wear a dress. They're amab for context) and I obviously argued back bc hey they're my best friends and my sister specifically said it was okay for me to bring them (she and R are also friends and they wouldve been invited regardless of me bringing P) and also because R looks very good in a dress and i can handle them shit-talking me but i will not tolerate slander towards R or P.

At the wedding, I went full no contact with them and told them to lose my number. They, ofc, did Not lose my number and I got several calls from extended family saying about what you would expect them to say, so I switched numbers and gave only my sister and her wife my new number.

My sister. I love her to pieces but sometimes she gets on my nerves. She gives my number to my mom to have "just in case," but she reassures me that she won't give it to my dad or any other family. So far, she's made good on that promise, I just have to deal with periodic calls about getting a girlfriend and having kids.

Now, my dad isn't the healthiest guy out there. He has arthritis, osteoporosis, and several other things that i don't really wanna get into. As he's aged he's only gotten worse and there have been several times he's almost died, but recently he's been put on hospice and has an estimated Not Very Long to live.

Here's where I may be the AH. My dad calls me while I'm at a very important, personal event for R (he got my number from my mom) and goes on a long rant on how I'm an unlovable disgrace and how he fed me and clothed me and I could make up for all that by helping him pay off hospital debt. I say no immediately and tell him that he's never been my dad, only my dna donor, and that he's going to be dead anyway and that selling his house could cover all the bills. He calls me many more names and tells me he wishes I was never born (calling my mom some very derogatory names too (she's asian)) and that i should just go ahead and off myself to save the world someone like me. I tell him he should die faster while he's at it because God knows the world already has enough bigots in it and there could never be too many mentally ill queers.

I hung up, but now I'm thinking I went a bit too far. AITA for not helping out with his hospital bills and yelling at him?

What are these acronyms?

[oneglass-zinfandel]

What’s your Ben’s personality like? I feel like everyone makes him the same asshole

Note: thank you for asking! A few requests got sent in like the second I posted my Masterlist so thanks for that!

Tw: mentions of Death, killing, sadism, drowning

The thing I love about Creepypasta is how Little information we have on the cannon personality of them so it's up to you to imagine their personalities and it's so fun seeing people make headcannons!

Personally I keep switching between all kinds of personalities for Ben but here's what I usually stick with<3

★ I don't think he's a asshole but he's definitely childish so it comes off as him being a jerk

★ He died around the age of 12 but I see him as more of a 17-19yo

★ Due to dying so young he definitely has some mental and emotional intelligence issues, and as far as I remember he's a only child so it adds onto it

★ i wouldn't call him a asshole like everyone makes him out to be but perhaps a little sadistic as a coping mechanism almost?

★ He either laughs in his victims face, or hes very serious and quiet the whole time, if he's in a bad mood or maybe the victim reminds him to much of himself?

★ I don't like the idea of him being a completely useless guy? Like I'd imagine he can cook for himself just fine, probably follows YouTube Tutorials for it and says how it looks great when it's just mediocre

★ But at least he doesn't get food poisoning!

★ His room isn't very clean, i think he'd be able to float being a ghost and all so his rooms floor is rather messy

★ He will clean it up eventually once he loses something he cares about, like maybe he can't find some game cartridge and just starts cleaning up to find it, and then finishes cleaning cuz he got to into it

★ Definitely on the spectrum but I'm unsure where exactly

★ Sentimental guy fr

★ 100% Traumatized from being Drowned but it only really triggers when showering.

★ He can't use the Big shower head cuz the water just pouring on him like he can't freely look around or open his mouth and reminds him of drowning

★ Hypnotically if a kid gets their hands on Majora's Mask, the haunted one, he is NOT killing that poor guy. Although the next morning suddenly their save is deleted

★ He will keep deleting it near that one part where Link can die, till the kid eventually gives up playing it

★ Now romantically speaking i have to join the obnoxious people and say he's a flirt

★ Although I never said he was a good one, definitely having some childish humor

★ Now if you're a woman he's a bit misogynistic, and I'd you're a guy bro is projecting onto you and whinning about you being gay

★ Hes not that bad but I'd seen him being either or both

★ Although I think it's just him not being educated and refusing to, but if you become his partner, you're taking care of that internalized Misogyny/Homophobia

★ But when you start dating he's a real nice guy, he won't bat one eye at anyone else

★ Finds you weird and calls you weird for dating a ghost and might even call you a nerd and saying stuff like "You only like me cuz I look like your dear Link"

★ Which is half true but again he's just projecting

★ He appreciates you for being loyal to him so as I said, he won't look at anyone else

★ I like to think sense he's so computer oriented he has a built in thing in his mind where he just KNOWS the time and date 24/7 subconsciously

★ So he's not forgetting any important dates!

★ Although he's shit at gifts and will probably just look at videos like ""what to get your partner for Valentine's day!" And gives you some lame gift..

★ Don't think he doesn't pay attention however! He just doesn't remember the details, if you like some game or anime you best believe he's getting you merch but ONLY for your birthday

★ Any other holiday or special date? Nah it's just generic basic gifts

★ And don't expect anything if youve only been dating a month and a holiday is coming up, give him a month and a half at least to trust you before he gives a big enough shit to get you something.

★ He's definitely touchy with you, being possessive about you

★ But if he's gaming you better not disturb him unless it's something more layed back

★ He will put a arm around you locking you in by his side, controller still in hand not looking at you

★ During checkpoints or loading screens he will respond to anything you have to say but don't blab while he plays cuz he's probably not listening unless he hears a word he likes (like a dog)

★ For more intimate cases, I'll just say he doesn't like Hickeys, sometimes about you touching his neck and being close to it bothers him a lot

★ Although he's biting your neck 100%, not cuz he loves it or anything, it makes him a bit uncomfortable doing it too, but it's to show ownership in a bit of a toxic way, in his eyes at least

★ I don't think he's a huge manipulator but he's a serial killer so I won't deny the possibility

★ He just needs some love and care, someone to put up with his mood swings and bare his immature attitude when it comes out

★ If you survive a year with him just know you're NOT allowed to break up with him. I'm sorry but he would kill you :(

★ No cuz i genuinely think he would, in a fit of rage and betrayal, although he regrets it forever he still will never recover from it so...

★ Just be nice and patient with him<3

Thank you for the request!

I hope you liked it, i tried to keep my train of thought sorry if it's maybe a bit off, I'm still new to writing and putting my thoughts on paper especially having so many different idea of how Ben would act, but I hope itd not to bad!

† Be nice in the comments plzz 😭🙏

Oh and give me tips on how to tag! I have no clue I hope I did okay..★

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

The Storm - [Reader's POV]: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

[sirsagrell]

While I'm usually critical about Veilguard, and will probably continue to be critical, I want to switch gears for a bit and engage in some positivity. Because there are things in it I liked and I don't want to lose sight of them.

So this is a collection of random Veilguard positivity rambles about some things I genuinely liked:

The entire character of Davrin: Davrin and his confusion about sacrificing himself as was expected of him but surviving, Davrin and his complicated but constructive relationship with his heritage that informs everything about him. Davrin knowing what is and isn't a monster, and giving Isseya her name back. Davrin is just very Dragon Age to me. Also holy shit, hot.

Generally, most of the stuff that surrounds the Wardens - the Hossberg Wetlands, the siege of Weisshaupt, the wardens Ivo, those records about the first qunari Warden, the First Warden trying to take the sacrifice of killing Razikale upon himself, the fucked up fortress for hiding fucked up stuff, the surviving wardens saying fuck it post-Weisshaupt and turning the joining into a blight vaccine.

The flowers in Hossberg quest (or was it a hidden quest?). Loved that. Flowers starting to bloom on previously blighted land was a plot point in that DA fic I outlined in my head 10 years ago and never wrote.

While I'm on the subject of plants, Harding's greenhouse was just stunning. Went to just stare at it multiple times regardless of Harding having anything to say to me. And it's thematically resonant too.

Neve as a concept seems like a character designed specifically to appeal to me personally in every way possible. If I was a Dragon Age character I would want to marry Neve. In my actual playthrough Neve never quite stuck, but I wasn't playing myself, I was trying to play a character who fucking hates Tevinter. So I am actually considering doing a separate Neve appreciation playthrough, and I have never replayed a game just to get more of one particular character before. You are too alluring, Neve.

Taash is interestingly and realistically flawed. People like to critique their coming-out scene because Shathann wasn't even really rejecting them, rather trying to understand them through concepts familiar to her, but I like it as written. You get so used to your mother being relentlessly critical of you, you work up the courage to have this important conversation because you know that is the right thing to do, you come prepared to stand your ground, you've been imagining everything she will say and rehearsing what to say back, and when she's honestly trying to understand and reach out, you don't even really notice it and lash out anyway, because you expected this conversation to go badly. This is very human.

Also, I vibe with Taash a lot. I too am socially challenged, sometimes unintentionally rude, surrounded by things that are certifiably messed up, struggle with cultural shit, and think dragons are the best.

I honestly liked the hair. Especially those luscious curls on Teia. This might be the first game I played where hair wasn't some kind of a distracting eyesore. I kid you not it improved my immersion.

I don't actually remember if it was like this in previous games, but I am very glad they labeled the flirt/romance dialogue options in the most unambiguous way possible. I played Baldur's Gate 3 recently and the most seemingly innocuous dialogue options led to flirting all the time. I realize this may be a me problem (see above, socially challenged), but having the options labeled and never having to reload because I'm not trying to flirt with you dammit is very relaxing. Which reminds me.

I think, that despite all its flaws, and weird narrative decisions, and wild shifts in theme and tone, Veilguard still made a better attempt at saying meaningful things than everyone's game of the year 2023 Baldur's Gate 3 did (runs away and hides under a rock).

[echantedtoon]

Caring

Being a single Father isn't an easy feat especially if you were always busy trying not to fall for who essentially was their babysitter. Yoriichi patiently watches as his brother falls for his coworker.

(This is just gonna be a Oneshot so it's not gonna be really long or detailed. Gonna be mostly from Yoriichi's pov and going on the fact I think Yoriichi is a daycare worker in Kimetsu Gauken.)

@thotfulwriter

@lavenderdrxp

The day was beautiful.

With the sunlight sinking into the room through the window. The birds singing outside. Beautiful fresh smelling air. Beautiful visions of nature right outside of you looked. A bright blue sky. Fluffy white clouds. Yellow sun. Flowers of every color. Green plants everywhere. Trees providing shade as the wind rolled by. A little blue pond in the distance full of fish.

Yes.

An absolute picture perfect scene for what could very much be a good day. Nothing in the world to worry about. Nothing to do. Just peaceful quiet and nature-  A shriek loud enough to make him wince from the high volume pierced the peaceful silence and made him give a sigh. Here we go again. He was used to this by now. That's why he wasn't phased when a tiny waddling and wailing mess all but latched onto his leg and he turned to look down at the sobbing girl clinging to himself. She wasn't older than two maybe three years old.

"TOOK TEDDY!!," was all she wailed as she broke down into incoherent sobs and shrieks again. 

A hand pointing at the culprit revealed him to be a boy around the same age as the shrieking girl and pouting at her. In his arms was the for mentioned 'Teddy'. A cute stuffed brown bear with a blue ribbon tied around his neck. Oh no. Not again. By now other workers in their signature pink aprons stopped what they were doing to look over. Little kids of all kinds stopped playing with blocks and coloring on paper to also look at the sight.

With a sigh he turned and half limped with the sobbing girl still still on his leg. "Akira, this is the fourth time this week you took someone's toy. You know taking things that don't belong to you is bad." He calmly held out his hands. "Give me Teddy and apologize."

It went about as well as he expected. Instead of just giving him the bear Akira pouted hard and held the bear up and away from him. "NO! MINE!" He didn't even get any time to pause when the bear was joined from his hands and up into an adult's arms. Akira blinked before looking up and screaming. "NO!! MIIIINE!!" He jumped up against the worker's legs holding up his hands. "IT'S MINE!! IT'S MINE!! GIVE BACK!!" 

"No, Akira. You can't just take other kids stuff. You aren't getting the teddy bear," the worker spoke her face form. "What you ARE getting is a time out for an hour and I'm telling your parents when they get here."

"NNNNNOOOOO!!!" THUD- Both watched as the toddler proceeded to throw himself onto the ground in a tantrum and proceeded to cry. "AÀAAAAHHHH!!"

...She sighed before smiling at him and offering up the teddy bear. "Tough day, Yoriichi?"

"No tougher than yours." The teddy was taken and handed over back to the little girl who had stopped crying by now. She clutched her bear in her arms as Akira proceeded his tantrum fit on the floor. "How are things in the infant nursery? I hope my niece isn't giving you too much trouble. My brother said she can be rather fussy."

"Luna is perfectly fine!," she confirmed with a smile. "She has quite an appetite though." She reached down and in one swoop scooped up the still crying child in her arms. "I'll just drop him off in time out corner and get back to the nursery before anyone wakes up."

"Alright, Y/n. Be sure to take your lunch break."

She smiled at him. "I will. Oh. Um..By the way, will your brother or his nanny be coming to pick up the children?" She shuffled nervously on her feet not thinking he noticed.

Oh but he absolutely DID notice.

"Michikatsu is wrapping up an important meeting with some investors for his boss's new property turnover project, so he'll be here when the day is done."

She smiled brightly and he didn't miss it. "Thanks. I'll make sure Luna's ready by then."

He didn't say anything else as she walked away with a skip in her step despite the crying toddler in her arms. Maybe it was just him being very perceptive but they weren't doing a good job of hiding their totally not so secret relationship from him. Who's relationship?

Y/n's and his brother's of course.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. It started about a year ago now. After almost three years of marriage his brother and his wife had gotten a divorce while she was pregnant with their second child. Now he wasn't one to judge especially since he himself couldn't be in Michikatsu's shoes to know exactly what he went through personally with his with, but he knew the entire marriage was a bad idea from the start. So did their mother. But of course their father and the ex's parents would hear none of it and now three years of regret and disdain between the two of them....

Well his father really shouldn't have been surprised by his oldest son's divorce. But he was even more surprised when he learnt it was Michikatsu's wife who slapped his poor brother with the divorce papers out of nowhere, took half his bank account, and completely abandoned their children with him. His brother really wasn't someone who showed emotion a lot, but he could literally see the frowns when his wife passive aggressively insulted him during family dinners, or how exhausted he looked when he and Uta visited with his son refusing to sleep. His wife just refusing to help with anything. Or when he was yelling angrily over the phone at either lawyers or at the ex herself after he found most of his savings drained. He had been very stressed throughout the entire process. 

However he did look somewhat relieved when it was all over.

It was around this time he started just dropping his son off at the daycare he worked at between the time the nanny worked her shifts and his own work that he met his coworker. He still remembered that very day. It was a Tuesday. Evening just came with the sun a few hours from setting. Michikatsu was running a little late because of a court  meeting discussing the custody arrangement of their toddler son and their infant daughter who hadn't been born just yet-

He looked up from wiping down a table from a particularly messy finger painting session that day when the front door of the building opened and he automatically stopped what he was doing to see who it was. A parent most likely here to pick up their child. However when he stepped into the lobby, he found another man who looked almost exactly like him.

"Aniue! How good it is to see you again!," he greeted with a smile. "Did you have a good drive over?"

Michikatsu frowned from behind those glasses he always wore. He thought he looked rather silly wearing sunglasses with such a high end suit all the time. "Just nice. You know what I'm here for. Where is he?"

As if to answer his own father- "Daddy!" 

Ah. Right on time. That's when the fateful meeting happened. Y/n had appeared, walking in with the black haired three year old toddler on her hip and smiling like a ball of sunshine. Michikatsu had frozen where he stood. His body stiffened. Which he didn't pay any mind to at first only smiling at his coworker.

"Ah. There you are Y/n. Right on time. I don't think you've met Tsukiko's father." He gestures towards his oddly silent twin with a small smile. "Michikatsu, this is Y/n! She just started working here and we've been introducing her to all the parents. She'll be working the infantry wing with Uta soon."

She smiled brightly bouncing the giggling toddler at her hip. "It's a pleasure to meet you. You're son is just adorable! Such a sweetheart."

.... Yoriichi blinked and turned in question as his brother didn't say anything. Just stare at his coworker with a blank stare. "..Is that so?" He eventually slowly said before stiffly holding his arms out to the toddler. Automatically the boy reached with his arms out to be taken into his arms. "He is progressing well then."

Y/n nodded. "Yes. It was nice meeting you but I better go help Ms. Uta finish cleaning up for tomorrow." With that she gave a bow to him and walked away.

His brother followed her form with his head until she disappeared from sight. Interesting. "Isn't she nice? Y/N'S going to be an excellent addition to the team! She's great with the children and they all seem to really love her!"

"....I see. I'll be taking my leave. Expect Tsukiko tomorrow."

That was the start of it all. Sometimes he'd come back to Y/n handling the children's send off. Sometimes he wouldn't. But the same reaction would happen every time. He'd silently start as she bubbly spoke before just taking his son without much words. It was strange but then again his brother usually didn't surround himself but energetic women outside their mother and he was adjusting under a lot of stress. He wouldn't fault him for his reactions to her. 

It wasn't really a month before his second child was born that really opened his eyes to his brother's too feelings.

And it wasn't really too different than any other day Michikatsu or his nanny picked up his son. Y/n hadn't yet been put in full infantry care yet as she was slowly getting used to the place. She smiled and held his little nephews hand before he went running to hug his father's legs as soon as he walked in through the door. 

"Mr. Tsugikuni. How nice to see you again!," she greeted warmly, "Tsukiko told me all about his trip to the zoo. That must've been a fun experience."

Again he didn't say much. Only staring at her. "....Did you dye the ends of your hair?"

She blinked taken aback before smiling again. "Oh this?" She asked reaching up to twirl the ends of a magenta pink strand. "I have a girl here who loves pink but she's always misbehaving. I told her if she was good for a whole month I'd dye my hair her favorite color."

"And..that worked?"

"As silly as it sounds! I can-"

"You look nice."

She blinked taken off guard. "What?"

"Your hair." He was as taken off guard as she was when he reached out to remove his glasses from his face. Revealing his darkened pomegranate eyes to her. "It..It looks nice."

There was silence for a moment as they both stared-

"Daddy thinks you're really pretty!" All at once it was like the life drained from his face as she turned to his little son holding onto his pants leg. "He talks about you a lot to himself at home."

Y/n blinked before smiling at him then at the frozen man. "Is that so?'

Tsukiko nodded. "Uh huh. He thinks your smile is nice and you're pwetty and nice and your purp-fume smells nice and- HEY!!"

Yoriichi never thought he could ever laugh at his brother. Buuuut when you see your brother pick up his son and shove him under one arm like a football before speed walking away-..Well.

"Mr. Tsugikuni! Thank you! I think your eyes look pretty too!"

Michikatsu increased his pace practically shoving his way out the door- Let's just say he had a good chuckle in the break room and for the next few days it was the nanny who picked up hos son. It was finally during that time it had hit him. Oh...Oh. OH!! So THAT'S what was going on! Alright. He understood now. 

Soon after his niece was born. Oh Luna was such a sweet beautiful baby. He adored her! His brother did too. It wasn't too long after a few months that she also started attending the daycare with her brother. He won't lie seeing his brother walking around constantly with a sleeping newborn strapped to his chest and a giggling newborn on his hip at family dinners did add a certain domestic charm to him. A family man he thinks the term is. But knowing his brother he'd just continue to act awkward around his coworker....

Unless-

"What's this?" Michikatsu stared at the piece of paper in his hand. A line of numbers scribbled across it's surface.

"Y/N'S number." His brother snapped to him so fast with narrowed eyes he might've had whiplash. "It's for emergencies." It wasn't for emergencies- He held up a hand. "All the parents were given the staff's numbers." Not a lie but only Michikatsu had Y/N'S specific number. "It's just in case I or Uta aren't there and you need to inform the daycare of anything important. It's just protocol." It really wasn't...But it would be for a greater cause.

His brother still looked at him in suspicion but relaxed somewhat with the reasonable answer and Yoriichi's perfect poker face. "Why do I need her number when I can just call the daycare's listed number?"

"It's just in case of emergencies like I said. Everyone was given the staff's numbers. Y/n is new so I'm just updating all the parents." A lie-

His twin seemed to buy it however and reluctantly accepted the paper from him. Now all he had to do was wait. And he didn't have to wait long. Oh maybe a month or two later when Luna was around five months old. He was surprised when his brother came strolling in with a large baby bag slung over his shoulders when he came waltzing in baby strapped onto his shoulder, toddler on one hip-..

And a bouquet of roses in his free arm??

He was surprised obviously but didn't show it when greeting his brother. "Michi! You look better than the last time I saw you. Why the bag? You know we have everything we need here."

"I need you to watch the children tonight for me." Michikatsu ignored anything his brother said only tilting sideways and shoveling his son into his arms before sliding the bag off his shoulder and lifting it up to drop around Yoriichi's head who blinked. "I have..a very important meeting with my CEO that I cannot reschedule for anything else and my usual nanny is sick."

Yoriichi blinked staring at him for a moment as Michikatsu was already struggling to undo the baby harness from his chest with one hand as Luna gurgled and kicked out randomly. "I can do that. ..May I ask why you have-"

"They're for Mother." He bluntly looked at him. "I'll pick them up at ten tonight. Does that work for you?"

"..Yes."

He didn't want to assume anything about his brother's business. After all it wasn't unheard of for him to get their mother flowers every so often. However if a certain coworker of his happens to arrive to work carry the same-...An IDENTICAL bouquet of roses then he might be able to at least make a guess. He was just mopping the floors by the front door when Y/n came walking in with a big smile and a bouquet of roses the same size and arrangement as the ones his brother had been holding not too  long ago. Her face flushed a pink and her usual bright smile extra happy.

"Yoriichi could you cover my late shift tonight? I'm going out."

He slowly nodded. "Sure. Those are some beautiful flowers." He complimented tilting his head at her. "Where did you get them?"

"Your brother gave them to me." She gushed a hand on her cheek. "Isn't that wonderful? He asked me to go with him to this fancy restaurant I could even dream of affording! He's so sweet."

Cupid. Arrow. And bullseye on Michikatsu's heart.

Neither had really said much since that day, but the longing glances. The smiles. The stern looks Michikatsu would give him if he stared too long. It was very obvious of what was happening. For now he would not take anymore steps to bring them together and he wouldn't say anything about them until his brother was ready to tell everyone. But for now he was just happy his Aniue was happy.