#like obviously he made mistakes and he probably should have thought things through more

[scribe-of-monsters]

The thing about the aftermath of the creation scene in Frankenstein is that it's a tragedy that can't really be avoided. There's no real feasible outcome of that situation that is good for everyone.

Being abandoned was definitely a terrible thing to happen to Adam, of course, but unfortunately due to the circumstances, it's unlikely that anything else could have happened. Even if he had stayed, Victor still would have gotten sick and wouldn't have been able to care for Adam, whether he wanted to or not. After the creation, Victor is extremely sick, close to dying. He was bedridden for months afterwards and needed to be taken care of himself. His illness wasn't caused because the creature was "too ugly," either, it was caused by him spending two years barely eating or sleeping and being exposed to constant stress and isolation. He was sick before the creature even came to life. There wasn't much parenting he could have done.

The best case scenario in this situation would be for Clerval to care for both Victor and Adam, but Clerval is also a struggling college student with no medical or parenting experience. He wouldn't feasibly be able to give them both all the the care that they needed, and it wouldn't be fair to ask that of him anyway.

It's a very unfair situation for all of them. It isn't fair that Adam was abandoned, or that Clerval had to spend months nursing Victor back to health, but it also isn't fair to blame Victor for getting sick or not caring for Adam, something he wasn't physically able to do. There wasn't really a good outcome here, and tragic as it is, that's kind of the point of the story. Sometimes situations aren't black and white, and there really isn't anything you can do to avoid them.

[islayhawkin]

It's from her

Captain John price x fem!reader

Summary: The task force learns that john's beanie holds way more importance to him than it should

Warnings!: sad and vulnerable john, prob ooc, not edited

Leaving for a mission was always hard. He knew that you struggled immensly with it and while he never showed it, it took it's toll on him too.

To leave you behind. Knowing that you had a hard time because of him.

To have the mission ahead of him. The knowledge that he'd be away for weeks or even months on end. The contact to you was rare and it took a lot of effort for him to be able to have a phone call or receive a letter from you. He always worried. While he was the one fighting for his life, there was always a part of his mind that thought about how you were doing, if something happened, if you needed him...The constant uncertainty was driving him on edge sometimes.

And he missed you. Oh, how he missed you. He spent so many lonely nights in his tent or a safe house imagining you beside him while the snores of his comrades filled his ears.

John clung to the few things he had with him that were you. One of them being his hat.

It was one of the first things he got from you. You had knitted the beanie when you first moved in together. Every evening when you two had cuddled up on the couch, the TV playing, you had knitted. He had seen it develop and it was the most calming sound to him, whenever he heard your needles clicking softly against each other. Not until you finished the hat had he been aware that you made it for him.

"Here. I made this for you." You had smiled at him proudly as you handed over the dark-knitted beanie.

It was nothing special and with closer inspection, a few mistakes could be sighted but for john it meant the world. At first, he had struggled to even think of a response as he gripped the soft fabric in his rough hands.

"I know you always like to have something on your head and I thought that would keep you warm when you're in a cold area..." you had muttered out your explanation.

"thank you." He had replied quietly. The love and astonishment had been evident in his expression.

There were times when he thought back to that moment and wished he had said more. That he would've been able to express what it meant to him. But you knew without him saying so. It was clear in his actions.

It was endearing how he still took it on every mission after all these years.

The 141 started to notice it's importance to him when he couldn't find it at base. His usual calm demeanor was slightly irritable and underlined by the strong walk as he barged into the common room as if he were on a mission to save the queen.

"Does any of you shitheads have my hat?" His deep voice made the whole room go quiet.

Soap and ghost exchanged glances. "Got no reason to steal your hat captain." Ghost grumbled out.

John clenched and unclenched his fists multiple times. The muscle in his jaw tightened. "You'll have no problem then if I check your rooms lieutenant." There were some unspoken words between them as two pairs of hard eyes met each other.

"No problem." Ghost replied.

Price took a look around the room before giving them a nod and leaving for their private quarters.

"What's wrong with him?" Gaz leaned over the table to his comrades.

"No bloody idea. Probably got his period." Ghost grumbled.

Price rummaged through room after room methodically. The drawers and cabinets were thrown open and closed softly after close inspection. He muttered a few annoyed curses when he arrived at soap's room: the drawers were already opened but his clothes were probably more scattered over the floor room than in his closet. Room inspections were obviously in dire need of attention.

When he made it to Gaz's room the hat was the first thing his eyes spotted as he opened the door. There it was. slightly frizzy and worn at the edges but still looking soft the way it always did. Except that it didn't lay at its usual spot in his neatly organized closet.

"Can't keep their bloody hands to their own stuff." John grumbled.

The tension fell from his body as he picked the beanie up and took it back to his room. He laid it back to the dedicated spot with a scarf next to it. His eyes observed how it seemed to lay so innocently in front of him. A tired sigh escaped his lips before he pushed himself into an upright position and locked the door to his room for good measure.

In the next moment he dragged gaz out of his chair pressed him against the wall. Johns hand clasped the collar of gazs uniform. While gaz grunted from the impact of his captains weight against him, his face stayed nonchalant. If you knew him better you'd seen the small sliver of nervousness in his eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my stuff?" Price gritted out.

"I didn't take anything from you sir." Gaz shot back almost angrily at the accusation.

"You think that's funny huh?" John sneered. It was unusual for the captain to throw angry words at his team. He was always the composed one; giving them a sense of confidence and security in the battlefield.

"No sir."

"Hmhm. I found something in your quarters. My goddamn hat on top of your closet."

Gaz frowned. "Captain I didn't- sir I don't know anything about that."

Price grunted in frustration before ghost stepped to them and slightly pulled the captain back. "Take it easy cap."

John let himself fall back before pointing a warning finger at the young sergeant. "Just keep your hands off of my things. Especially that hat. Got it?"

Gaz gave him a nod but he didn't back down from his position as innocent. The air was tense as everyone watched the ongoing confrontation.

Ghost gave his captain a look which held john back made him leave the room back to his own office (where he should've worked for the last hour). The lieutenant followed him out as if to escort him. "Why are ya followin' me simon?"

Ghost was about to protest about his name choice but decided there were more important matters at hand right now.

"I figured you'd want to tell me what's going on?" The deep voice came from behind the mask.

Price stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms while shifting his weight onto his toes. "What?"

While price was a tall and muscular man he had no chance against the build of ghost as he towered opposite of him.

"You're going wild over a damn hat for no reason." His tone sounded almost bored.

"It's not just a bloody hat!" John's jaw clicked.

Ghost scoffed. "Then what is this about?"

"With all due respect lieutenant, you wouldn't understand."

That was it. It was never brought up again until a few months later on a mission at the Russian border.

A small safe house offered them shelter before they took off for the next day.

The night was a troubled one. Everyone was anxious and tired, which was a dangerous mix of feelings in a group of men. But they were trained for this. Keeping one eye and ear open constantly; without pause. This was the requirement to survival.

John took the night shift after Ghost woke him up out of a rather unpleasant dream. Everything was quiet except for a few night animals chirping in the forest surrounding them. The sun already brought a bit of light through the windows.

He sat down against a pillar and rubbed his exhausted eyes with his calloused palms. A defeated sigh escaped his lips as he took the gun into his hand and let his head lull back against the wood.

The last few months had been rough. The 141 was on this mission since almost two months now and it felt like they didn't get any closer to their target. For john it meant two months without you. No call, no letter, nothing. For all he knew you could be laying in bed with another guy right now. He couldn't blame you. No, what was he thinking. That was a riddiculous thought. He grunted quietly as he rubbed a hand over his beard. John definately needed sleep.

His beard and hair had grown out over the time, which made him think of the way you'd sit him on the toilet lid and step between his legs to shave his beard for him. You never realised how that position made it quite impossible for him to relax under your intense stare. He smiled at the memory and simultaneously hope that he'd be able to be in that position soon again.

The nightmare had made him unpleasantly agitated and worried. John just hoped, prayed and begged Laswell to make sure that you were okay.

A few hours later the sun started to rise above the horizon, which brought john his clue to wake everyone up and get going for the day ahead. When everybody was checked and price paced slowly in front of the group to explain the plan his voice got stuck in his throat. He had been telling them that they would be making their way into the snowy area as your voice made it's way into his thoughts.

'to keep you warm in colder regions.' you had said with that sweet smile when you gave him his hat.

The hat.

He didn't have his beanie on. It got soaked through yesterday and he took it off to dry. But they had checked the whole safehouse already, ready for departure.

"My hat. Has anyone seen it?" he questioned the group of men standing before him. They looked stunned at his sudden change of topic.

When they didn't answer he started walking up the stairs. Frantically going through the rooms again. Soap went with a nod to the others after him. "Capt'n. We're ready for departure. None of us saw yer hat."

John shook his head. "Not without it." He searched the drawers in the room even though he knew it couldn't be there. His expression was stoic and unreadable but there were emotions behind those blue eyes.

They gave him a few minutes but when he didn't make a move to get on with it ghost shouted up the stairs. "Cap we have a schedule remember?" It sounded slightly irritated coming from behind the mask.

"I said I'm not going without it!" John thundered back.

He couldn't leave without it. It felt like leaving you behind. It was irrational and stupid and the hat was going to cost him his goddamn life someday but... he needed it. That feeling couldn't be explained with rationality or tactic. you would have described it as love. But john would rather name it desperation.

"It's just a bloody hat. We need to get going." Ghost came up beside him.

"It's not. It's from her." John pulled his lips in a thin line as he exhaled through his nose sharply. The room went quiet for a moment at his admission.

Ghosts expression stayed emotionless as he crossed his bulky arms over his chest.

"Yer bonnie wife?" soap asked for clarification.

John nodded sharply and but turned away quickly from the pair when soap raised a brow.

"Honestly dinna know yer were married to her until a few weeks back. I'm sure ye'll survive a week without the hat and see yer lass soon hm?"

Ghost grunted in frustration. "Seriously? That's been the reason for this bloody hat."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand. When you're married we can have this conversation." John shot back at his lieutenant. His voice thick with accent and a deep grumbling from the throat.

Soap got between them before Ghost had the chance to respond. "So we ready to go then? Captain?"

John pursed his lips and it pained him to go through with it but he shut off his emotions like he so often did and gave them a stern nod. He started to talk about their upcoming task again as he took the lead once more.

When he got home to you a week later he couldn't hold back a few tears in his eyes when you presented him a new, more colourful beanie, that you made when he was gone. And to his delight you ushered him into the bathroom to shave him first thing in the morning.

The task force never dared to touch his hat again.

[hoedamn-eron]

shut up, kid

You awake to your first Mother’s Day with baby Bateman.

Warnings: Nathan is honestly the only warning you need. I suppose some hints of breastfeeding too (a fed baby is a happy baby, whether bottle or breast). Actually proofread for once, but probably still mistakes that I missed. Word count: 750 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This was written VERY last minute (by last minute, I mean at 9:30pm on Mother's Day in the UK 😂). Anyway, happy Mother’s Day to all the parents out there! 😊 I’ve recently been very broody and very Nathan oriented, so I created this mostly self-indulgent fic (loosely based on this post from a few weeks ago).

I struggle to write Nathan, I feel like I can't get his personalty, or his demeanour right, so please let me know if I can improve anywhere! I want to write more Nathan!

It was the sound of a loud, high-pitched, excited squeal, that woke you up.

“Hey,” came the voice of your boyfriend, sounding distant and muffled as the sweet caress of sleep called back to you. “I know we came to wake up your mom, but that’s not the way to do it. You want to deal with the dragon before she’s had her morning coffee? No? I fuckin’ thought not. Shut up, kid.”

“You shouldn’t swear at your son,” you muttered into your pillow, knowing now that sleep was just a distant memory.

“Ah, shit.”

You grin into the pillow before you look up, your eyes blurrily settling on your boyfriend, who had a mug of coffee in his left hand (in your favourite mug – one you got from a Blue Book convention back when you were in college, long before you met Nathan...Nathan hated it), and his other hand was occupied supporting your seven-month-old son, Silas, who was happily sitting on Nathan’s hip, still in his footsie pyjamas, chewing on his pointer finger. It was sickening how you carried the kid for nine months, and going through a 36-hour labour, sacrificing your body and your boobs (your nipples will never be the same again), for him to look exactly like Nathan.

You still love the bones off him anyway.

“Kid doesn’t know what I’m saying, it’s fine,” Nathan continues, coming over to you and holding out the mug. You take it, smiling up at Nathan as he leans down to you and presses a kiss against your lips, murmuring a ‘good morning’ to you before he straightens up.

He’s so hot. Even now, he’s just wearing some old sweatpants and a t-shirt (it even has a stain of old baby throw up, which you just couldn’t get out), but it’s the way he’s holding your son...it does things to you.

“Good morning,” you greeted back, taking a sip of your coffee. You nod at Silas as he continued to chew on his finger. “Lost another pacifier?”

“I don’t know what he does with them,” Nathan said, shaking his head, gesturing with now free his hand around the room. “Spend all my fuckin’ spare time trying to find that blue one that he refuses to nap without.”

“Language,” you tell him, take a sip of your coffee.

“Sorry,” he says, almost on autopilot. “I’ll request more for the chopper next week. Think 50 will be enough? Obviously fuckin’ not, he’ll lose them all within a week.”

You laugh as you shake your head at him before looking at Silas. “Is your dada silly?” you ask him in your most annoying baby voice.

The kid loves it. He smiles widely at you and kicks his legs in excitement.

“Anyway,” Nathan says, adjusting Silas in his grip as he looked back at you, evidently choosing to ignore your comment to your son. “Happy Mother’s Day, or whatever. I made you breakfast, your favourite. The kid had some, he loved it, so now we’ll probably have to make it for him every day. I’ll run you a bath and by the time you’re finished it should be ready. While you’re being a lazy ass in the tub and skirting your duties as a mother - “

You go to swat Nathan on the thigh, but he dodges you swiftly and carries on like he was never interrupted.

“Me and this one,” he nods to Silas. “Will work on some tummy time, see if we can start crawling today.”

“Not all kids start crawling at seven months.”

“Not all kids are mine.”

“Debatable, regarding all the sex you were having before we met.”

“You’re reaping all the benefits from ‘all that sex’.”

“You pig.”

“You love me.”

You do. God, you do. So much. But you’re not going to tell him that.

You take a gulp of your coffee, hiding your smile.

“Get your pretty ass out of bed,” Nathan said, already turning away from you, grabbing Silas around the tummy and tossing him lightly in the air and catching him, causing Silas to laugh that cute baby giggle he has that melts your heart. “Come and celebrate your first Mother’s Day.”

He leaves the room, and you laugh to yourself as you distinctly hear the sound of Nathan giving Silas a raspberry on his belly as he walks down the corridor, the squealing sound of laughter from your son following right after.

It sends a warm feeling of joy and happiness through you.

[powerfultenderness]

something similar happened to me so i had to send an ask LOL könig receiving readers mail.... he'd just knock and give it back to her asap, but he notices she ordered lingerie 🤭🤭

Parcel

Rated: Mature Word count: 744 Notes: Let's take it back to earlier in their friendship :)

König grabbed the package sitting in front of his door before he made his way inside. He wasn’t expecting his order to come in so soon! He flipped open one of his pocket knives and was half way through one of the taped sides when he froze.

Oh no. This wasn’t his mail at all! He spotted your name and address on the shipping label instead of the alias he used for online orders. 

Shit. Good thing he noticed before he opened it all the way. He really didn’t want you to think he was snooping through your mail. Because he wasn’t! It was an accident! 

He shook his head, you weren’t even here and he was already trying to defend himself. Calm down. 

He checked his phone next, you should be home, he thought. Usually you slept in on Saturdays. 

And before he even realized it, he was typing in the company name into a search browser. He figured you ordered something for your new flat and hoped it was something he could help with. 

Turns out LuvMe was not home decor! 

König’s face burned as he looked at the page full of women barely covered in sheer fabric and pretty lace and ribbons. 

He nearly just…opened up your lingerie (and god, could he help with that!)

He was about to close the tab, when the image on the screen flashed and a model who was similarly built to you appeared in a sheer flowery set. His hands acted on their own as he clicked the image and soon he was looking through the product previews, more accurately, he was looking at the women modeling the products, until he found one that looked enough like you that he could picture you as the scantily clad woman in the photo. 

You were so pretty, would be so pretty with cute little flowers swirling around the soft plush of your breasts, with black sheer mesh and red silk against your skin. 

He swiped to the next picture and was suddenly imagining you with a garter of blue satin ribbon holding up lacy stockings. Would you wear this under his favorite dress that you wore, with the tiny piece of fabric and lace that could barely be counted as underwear? 

It’s only when he absentmindedly brings his free hand down to his crotch to adjust himself that he stops his overactive imagination. Quickly, as if someone might catch him looking at lingerie models, he closed the tab and dropped his phone face down on the counter. 

He sighed and looked at the box sitting innocently on his counter. Obviously he had to return it to you, he just hoped he could act normal and not like a weirdo pervert that would scare you away. 

Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird. 

Even as he nervously knocked on your door, he realized it wasn’t that he was being weird. He was being dumb. He could have just dropped the package right in front of your door and left. Instead-

You opened the door as he was mid thought, “hey, König, what’s up?” 

He awkwardly thrusted the package towards you, “this was delivered to me by mistake.” 

“Oh, thanks!” 

König panicked when he saw you inspect the parcel as you took it from him (you weren’t really inspecting it). “I-I almost opened it. But I didn’t! Just one side!” 

“Huh?” You looked down at the box and sure the tape was partially cut through on one side. “Oh. That’s not a big deal. At least you noticed!” 

HIs heart started to race when you smiled so sweetly up at him. Oh he noticed alright. 

“I don’t know!” 

“What?” 

“What’s inside. I have to go!” 

“O…kay?” You blinked as König turned and took a few giant steps to retreat back to his flat. “See you later?” You tried, raising your voice.

He stopped at his door and waved at you, you think he nodded his head but he may have just been ducking through the door. 

König sighed as he closed and locked the door behind him. Great. That went real smooth. You probably thought he was a weird pervert now. 

-

You didn’t even notice as you opened the package that the company name and logo were printed on the top. König’s weird behavior is completely forgotten as you put your new set of basic underwear (that sale was too good of a deal to pass up!) in the wash. 

[Neighbor!König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist: 

@warrior-of-justice  @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof @techs-ass @virginalsacrifice @s0rc3r3r @sleeplessskeleton @introvered-violinist @tizylish @romula96 @peach-habibitch @mitchlow @queenotaku27 @fenixnegras @emmbny @love-dove-noora @lesbianmitsuri @supergirl16 @wybwtjmiadz @ghonigsloverbabe @thatmusedhatter @grassclippers @skystreamchan @lordlydragon @luvecarson @thetestsubject666 @mafer383 @darkangel4121 @puppylikethedog  

[mgu-h]

I love when he gets talking and then just keeps talking lmao, like they just have to prompt him and he will deliver a little monologue, e.g.

I didn't hold [Checo] up, I just had to cool my tires a bit more, and that just seemed to allow Oscar to get ahead of Checo, so yeah, no, I did my part today as a team player, and to come away with a first and a fourth was not what we're expecting today, but obviously a great result for the team. It put us on top as a constructor, and first time in 10 years that that's been the case, so a happy day for us as a team, of course for Oscar with a race win is even better, and for me to get fourth, like from 15th I don't think we're expecting it, from even halfway to the race I probably wasn't expecting it, because I had Carlos behind, Checo was behind, Max was just behind, and I hadn't even done my pit stop yet, so I was like, oh god, I'm not in that race for the top, but the pace was amazing, and the car really came alive at the end of the hard stint, and even the whole time on the mediums, and kind of went exactly how we wanted it to go, and even better than that, so yeah, good day.

and

I struggled to get past Alex for a long time, and that's a common thing, I mean Alex just doesn't make mistakes, and the Williams is always quite slippery in the straights, so Alex made my life tough for a lot of laps, and Max was behind me that whole time, and put me under a lot of pressure, but I could make the moves when I needed to, on the rest of the field, whether that was on Max, or the guys further behind, Bearman, and that's always good fun, so yeah, it was a fun race, I say from my side coming through, and always not knowing what to expect, and what we could achieve, so it was always a fun race like this, but yeah, good points. Fastest lap to get ahead of Max was important for me to kind of make me a bit happier after yesterday.

and

[Andrea] was not happy after last night, I was super unlucky. This was one of the most unfair things that I think has happened in a long time. I went off the track, yes, but then there was the yellow flag, and you can't see the flag, so everyone was talking about the white flag and all this nonsense. What they can't see is my dash, which had the big yellow lights on. So a lot of people love talking nonsense and stuff like that, but I had to lift and that took away my chances. So it was a shame, but it kind of made my race exciting today. So we were not happy as a team after last night because we knew we could have had two cars up there, and when you look at where Oscar finished today, we knew we could have had two cars right at the top. And that's what we love to see. So there's more potential. I don't think we're very happy with the weekend because we want perfection, and this weekend was not perfect, but when you look at today and how we executed today, I think everyone should be very happy.

and

It's not for me to decide [about papaya rules]. So I just keep doing my part. You know, I was quick all weekend. I've been very quick. I'm doing a good job, I feel, and I'm executing things well. I feel like I've been a little bit unlucky. and unfortunate, but that's how our racing is sometimes. And yeah, of course, I'm going to be a bit upset about things and not the happiest guy. I'm never normally the happiest guy anyway, but we're slowly catching, but we need more. But I think that can still come. You know, it's still a good amount of races to go. There's still sprint races to go. We're working well as a team, you know, even from like the part of helping Oscar to get the win today, this plays a big part in it all.

he just has things to say lol and i love it. his shorter, cutely passive aggressive answer to laura about the complaints he made to the team about max was great too, that he was "not complaining, just stating facts" lol that max was overtaking under VSC, which he "thought wasn't allowed but maybe i'm wrong" like catty lando is peak lando and it's good to see him 🧡

[morganski-19]

For the friends AU - you gotta do the one with the leather pants…I can’t decide who would be that character, but I think it would be hilarious!

I really enjoyed the first snippet. Made me feel like I was watching both Friends & ST! Great job!

I thought about this for so long, and then it just hit me. Eddie and Argyle. Eddie with the leather pants, obviously, and Argyle on the other line. Hope it lives up to expectations, I kind of let it run and they end up having a deeper conversation at the end (for set up purposes). But still funny.

The One with the Leather Pants

(for this one, imagine like a sitcom split screen, switching pov on a phone call type situation)

Eddie sits frantically on the toilet, waiting for Argyle to pick up the phone. He’s wearing nothing by a T-shirt and tight boxers, his leather pants halfway up his calves. It was broiling in the apartment he was in. And, in an attempt to leave silently after his latest hookup, he brought his clothes to the bathroom to clean up and get out. But his pants would not slide up his legs any higher. He can’t exactly walk out of here pants-less in the middle of the night.

“Hey dude,” Argyle says when he picks up the phone. Lounging on his couch in baggy pajamas while watching tv.

“Thank god, I didn’t wake you, did I?” Eddie sighs in relief.

“Nah, dude. I was up watching some tv. What’s up?”

Eddie looks down at his legs, letting out another sigh in premature defeat. “I got a kind of situation.”

Argyle leans his head on his hand. “What kind of situation?”

“You know those leather pants I wear when I go out sometimes. Well, I wore them out tonight, met a guy, we went back to his place to hook up. And his apartment is like a million degrees, and I was sweating a lot. So, to make an already long story short, I can’t get my pants back on.”

Argyle nods, taking in the information. “Huh, that’s rough dude.”

“I’m aware,” Eddie says while raising his eyebrows. “Any idea what to do?”

“I don’t know,” he says while scratching his chin. “Not exactly the best at this stuff. Should have called Nancy. Or Robin, she would know.”

Eddie presses his hand against his forehead. “Yeah, I know, but I didn’t want to get laughed at and humiliated, so I called you.”

“Aww, that’s kind of sweet. Hold on, let me think.”

“I’m up for literally anything right now, I can’t get them past my knees.”

“Is the guy you’re with still up, can you ask him if it’s cool for you to take a shower to cool down and wash the sweat off.”

Eddie glances at the closed door, knowing that the guy is passed out. “Not exactly. And I’ve put on leather pants after a shower before, it’s still not the best.”

Argyle hums. “Ok, so something else to get the sweat off your legs. Is there baby powder there?”

Eddie awkwardly stands up and waddles to get in front of the medicine cabinet. Shaking his head to get rid of the voice in his head saying not to look through someone’s stuff. He opens the cabinet to find a small bottle of baby powder. “Yeah, weirdly enough.”

“Try that.”

It could be worse. Eddie puts his phone on the counter and pours the baby powder into his hand. More comes out that he means to, making it puff into the air when he starts to rub it on his legs. In desperation, he forgets to wash the excess off his hands and tries to pull his pants up. He gets it just past his knees before the leather slips out of his hands. Eddie grabs the counter in order to not fall over.

Now realizing his mistake, Eddie stands and washes the baby powder off his hands and tries again. Still doesn’t work.

“Yeah, that didn’t work,” he says after picking up the phone again.

“Damn, ok. Do you think it has to do with the sweat on your legs or that they widened a bit with the heat?”

Eddie crosses his arm and grabs his elbow, leaning against the sink. “Probably the heat thing, I don’t know,” he says with a tilt to his head.

Argyle hums again. “Lotion to try and slide the pants up your legs?”

“I’m not going to get lotion on my pants, that’s going to be a bitch to clean. How would that even work?”

“Imagine it, dude, a little lube so everything can get to where it needs to go.”

Eddie snorts. “Not imagining what you want, but it made me laugh.”

Argyle takes a second before bursting out laughing through the phone. “Yeah, ok, I see it now. Maybe try wetting a washcloth, or something, with cold water, try to cool your legs down.”

“That’s not a bad idea. Will take a while thought, was trying to leave without the guy noticing.”

“Ohh, one of those types of hookups. You should have at least said goodbye to the guy.”

Eddie finds a spare hand towel and turns on the tap. After the water gets cold, he wets the towel and wrings it out. Sitting back on the toilet, he drapes the towel over his legs and just waits.

“I said goodnight, that’s enough for a lot of people. I just, didn’t want him to get attached. I’m fine with casual stuff, just not ready for something serious yet.”

“I see, still burned from the last one. I got you.”

Eddie leans back on the toilet. “Hard not to be burned when you give three years to someone, move to a new city, leaving everything that you know, and they figure he’s been cheating on you for months.”

Argyle nods his head in understanding. “Yeah, it’s sucks. But you can’t let that hold yourself back, dude. You got so much to give, you’ll find someone else sometime.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “I know. I’m just scared to get hurt again.”

“Getting hurt sucks, I know, I’ve been there. But you never know what’s going to happen if you don’t try.”

Eddie makes a thoughtful face, knowing exactly who he’s been running away from. What feelings he’s been trying to avoid.

“When I called you, I didn’t exactly expect a midnight therapy session.”

Argyle snorts. “I am known for my midnight therapy. But seriously though, if you’re not ready to date yet, that’s fine, dude. But, when you are, I think he might be waiting for you too.”

Eddie opens his mouth slightly in shock. “I don’t exactly know who you’re talking about.”

“I have eyes, dude. I see you staring. And I also see him staring back. But no pressure, this is your timetable, not mine.”

“Thank you. Why are you up anyway? Don’t you go to bed at like ten?” Eddie stands, draping the now warm towel up on the towel rack.

“Jonathan’s a chronic insomniac, so I stay up with him sometimes when it gets bad. Sometimes being around someone else helps him fall asleep.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. “Has he been there the entire time I’ve been talking to you?”

Argyle turns to face Jonathan, who was sitting next to him the whole time, half asleep. “Yeah, but I’m like ninety percent sure he’s asleep.”

“Ninety percent! Poke him, see if he moves or something.”

“I’m not going to wake him up, dude. What do you not get about chronic insomniac?”

“Fine, I guess that’s fair. Hold on, I’m trying this again.”

It’s a struggle, and Eddie may have hit his head on the counter, but he gets his pants up. Zips them even.

“I got them, thanks for picking up. Mind keeping this between us?

“I can only promise that if Jonathan is actually asleep. He’s a huge gossip when he wants to be.”

“I’m praying that he is. How’s that going, by the way?” Eddie asks, turning the tables back on Argyle.

Argyle stares, a bit longingly, at his best friend sleeping on the couch. A blanket that Argyle draped over him earlier, tucked underneath his chin. “I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re not the only one I’ve seen staring either. And out of the both of us, your situation is a lot better than mine.”

Argyle smiles. “I don’t believe that but thank you.”

“No problem. Talk to you later. I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow as a thank you.”

“No need, dude. Text me when you get back to your place.”

“Will do,” Eddie hangs up the phone. He cleans up the small mess in the bathroom he made with the baby powder before leaving. Grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter and, successfully, leaves unnoticed.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @mentallyundone, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging

[ossiethegreat]

I'm not sure if this has been asked before, but what are your Delta headcanons? :D

HIII THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!

so I am usually terrified of these questions because of my crippling social anxiety, but I love Delta too much to NOT yap about him..

Alright so I’ve seen some other people (howls and sandee) talk about how he would have toxic masculinity and have difficulty dealing with emotions. I COMPLETELY agree with this, he absolutely would.

He would most definitely overwork himself in an attempt to prove his bravery and whatnot. He gets himself badly hurt in fights and proceeds to brush it off because he doesn’t want to look weak. (Loser)

So I like to headcannon that he eventually gets a service dog to help him with this issue, since the injuries were very inconvenient, and Epic and Color were worried for his physical and mental health.

If he ever overwhelms himself by running around and constantly helping people, the dog would do its job and force him to take a break :3

(I drew him with the doggy once) (its name is Zorox) (take a guess why)

Anyway obviously he would be opposed to the idea of a service animal because “that’s stupid, service animals are for disabled people, I’m perfectly fine” but Color and Epic forced him to for his own good.

He grew fond of the dog after a while, and accepted the idea since it was actually helping him.

-

Anyway enough of the dog, I wanna talk about him and Color.. 😣

So basically I’ve drawn ship art of them and I’d like to say I headcannon them as exes. Howls at some point said they could have been roommates in the Omega Timeline and I’ve just stuck with that because I’m not original.

I think the isolation Color went through made him very touch starved, and he attached to Delta because he was one of the first people he saw after a long time.

Delta, on the other hand, in general is a very social and friendly person (in his own ways), so he was just nice talkative to Color as he is to most people.

Anyway I think they dated because roommates lore /j

It ended up not working because Delta wasn’t very good with relationships, and his personality and morals clashed with Color’s. They broke up and stayed on good terms as friends 😋😋

-

As for Delta and Bravery, the two are literally just besties.

I think Delta initially had a father/kid relationship with Frisk, and he was extremely crushed when he failed to save them. It was like losing a kid basically, and he probably forced himself to help people all over to make up for his mistakes.

He ended up exhausting himself, and Core found him when he was having a mental crisis due to all of the guilt and stress he was put through, and he was later relocated at the OT.

As for Bravery, as Delta was recovering from his little guilt trip, he got to know the kid better and learned about who they were, their backstory, how they died.

He felt bad at first, convincing himself that he was just trying to replace Frisk to get over their death, but Bravery urged him not to have those thoughts because he wasn’t being “brave.”

Whining about the past wasn’t something a brave person would do. He should move on because dwelling on it wasn’t going to help him get better, or stronger.

Poor Bravery accidentally convinced him to push down his feelings 😭😭

But other than that, they just act like father and kid all the time, like best friends. Bravery offers him battle advice, keeps him from falling apart when things go wrong, and they work as a team.

In return, Delta takes the kids places they always wanted to see, lets them try new things, basically just letting them experience being a curious kid again, as they died WAY too early.

okay I’m done yapping because my phone’s about to die and it’s almost my curfew at camp 😣😣

PLEASE add to this if yall have more headcannons I love him :3

Delta belongs to animatedzorox

[aboutcustardcreams]

She sees right through me

Heyaaa I’m back again. Soon. Probably too soon. I don’t know what’s this but last night I came up with the idea of a Time Lord reader so this is what I got so far. It can go anywhere really. Feel free to tell me what you think about it. Would make my day <3 part two

word count: 2700 ish

You had been watching over him, now a she, for quite some time. Since you escaped prison, twice. But that’s a story for another time. It suited her, you thought, the blonde bob, also those hazel eyes. You still found galaxies in them. And oh– that feminine velvety voice, how deep you craved her saying your name like in the old days.

Maybe it had been for the best. Forgetting, you mean. Not about you, obviously. But about the Division, that toxic place that you came to hate in the end. Not that you particularly liked it before, considering it took the Doctor away from you for way more than you’d normally be willing to tolerate. But it was still her job, a thing she was passionate about, and you respected it. On his days off, he would join you all over the universe, doing mischief here and there. Innocent of course, but still fun. That was worth everything to you. His time.

You know way too well how memories, no matter how beautiful and special, can turn into something painful once left behind. Yet you wanted to hold onto that pain, since it was the only thing that made you feel most alive. You had created a little something to keep yourself from forgetting even the smallest detail of him, her.

A small chip, the size of a bean, that collected them all, implanted in the back of your head and controlled by your own emotions. All the adventures, the teasings, the bickerings, the words shared and the promises. Safe and sound in there. You used yourself as a dvd player. All you had to do was close your eyes, and summon the memory of the Doctor and it would come to you like reels of a monochrome film.

What can you say? You have always been kind of romantic.

The memories of the Doctor hurt you as much as they blessed you. When the Division made her forget, the organization never thought of doing the same to you. After all, you knew nothing about them, nor what their real purpose was. And the Doctor never shared much about it with you, which you respected. A part of you thought, she even saw it coming. The memory loss. Like it had been part of a contract, if there ever was one.

The Doctor had been clueless till the very recent events. Fighting the Flux and all of that chaos unleashed by the one and only Division, that finally dropped the act. Now the Doctor knew there was a part of her life that had been taken away from her. And you happened to be part of those memories left behind.

One thing you were glad of, were the people traveling with her. She has never been truly alone since the loss of her former identity. Of course the Doctor would find companions, mostly humans, which you thought to be particularly likable, all in all.

That woman— the one she had been traveling with, name’s Yaz, was a good one. She was loyal, trustworthy, and so obviously in love with her. You could bet she would do anything for the Doctor. And as for the Doctor, well– those eyes, no matter the color, nor the shape, they couldn’t lie to save a life and she felt the same. In her own special way.

You and her had something similar once. A timeless bond, you’d name it a soulship, if you were to make up a word for it. You’d been in jail, threatened, hampered by those who didn’t want you to find the Doctor again. Yet did you ever give up? They wished. Many regeneration after, and look where you’re standing now.

The TARDIS was only a few feet away. A smile crept on your features at the sight of it. Or you should say her. You know better than to misgender such a touchy spaceship. Rookie mistake. You stepped closer, slowly, carefully, as if the Doctor could come on out any moment, unexpectedly, and bump into you in the process. It happened once. More than once. Could happen again. You almost wished it would happen again.

“Hiya sexy,” you mused, gently brushing your fingers over the rough surface of the door. Looking up and down, you take in a small sigh, “Remember me? It’s been a while, innit?” You cooed, fingers trembling slightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner. She is never still. That hasn’t changed.”

You close your eyes for a moment. Your hearts beat loudly in your chest, and your throat tightens as a consequence, you need to swallow. “I’ve searched for you. Watched over him, her– I must admit, for a while I was too afraid to barge in, until now. Still quite frightened, mind. Got a new face. New outfit. Maybe that’s where the confidence is coming from,” you look down at your clothes; the peculiarity of your outfit, probably the thing you like the most, are your cowboy-like leather boots, with silver heels that match the color of your belt. “Quite like being a woman, I have to admit. I’ve been blessed with a female body three times. Not in a row, but still. Can’t complain. Won’t complain.”

You noticed you were rambling when the TARDIS finally made a squeaky noise. You smiled warmly at that, of course she would remember you. Bless the tactile memory. “I’ve missed you too. You think I could-”

You didn’t even need to finish the thought, the TARDIS knew what you were asking for. The door opened with a soft creak, not to the fullest, but enough to allow you to give a peek inside. “I hope she is gonna be as welcoming as you,” you half joked, with a nervous smile. You sighed softly, stalling for a bunch of seconds as a trail of memories with the Doctor played out before your eyes. One by one. Happy ones.

The TARDIS’ door parted open, almost startling you.

“Fine, fine. It’s not that I’m gonna chicken out,” you merely rolled your eyes and slid by the door with your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and teeth worrying your lip. You were really doing this. The air was quite tense, electrifying even, and the atmosphere so quiet. There’s nobody in the panel room, but you are sure the Doctor is there, you could feel her. “Hello?”, you hesitantly called out, “Anyone home? Please, just don’t hit me with a frying pan. I come in peace.”

In that precise moment, a very familiar stone statue appears right in front of you. Its wings folded tightly behind the back, its hands covering its face. One blink, and it would move, you knew the game. Just great. “You know, I’d have very much preferred the frying pan…” you grumbled, never taking your eyes off the angel.

“Where did it go?” one voice echoed. A female’s one, not the Doctor’s. It was Yaz’s. Footsteps followed, cautious, yet quick. This is not how you had imagined your reunion with the Doctor.

“I don’t know,” it was her. That voice. It made your hearts flip. “But stick behind me, and keep your eyes open–” the moment she saw you standing in her TARDIS, she froze. Yaz was behind her, came to a halt and bumped against the Doctor’s shoulders, who immediately shielded her with her arm.

“Who are you?” muttered the Doctor.

“How did you get in here?” Yaz asked right after.

First instinct would be turning towards those speaking to you, but obviously, it wasn’t ideal to do so, “I’d gladly satisfy those curiosities of yours maybe in front of a nice cuppa. Would be nice. But at the moment, as you can see, I’m in the middle of something,” you pointed at the statue, before letting off a scoff. Quite frankly you’re pissed your first proper encounter with the Doctor, after so many years, had to be hindered by a weeping angel.

“Right. You’re right,” the Doctor reasoned, keeping her eyes on you. “It’s important that you don’t blink or–”

“It will sweep me somewhere back in time, yeah, I know that. Very unfortunate,” you can’t tell if the Doctor is surprised by the fact that you know all these things, because you still can’t look at her. Not properly.

She just scrunched up her nose, deep in thought. Trying to figure who you are, where you come from, and why you are in her TARDIS. But most importantly how. The TARDIS’ door doesn’t exactly open with a snap of fingers. And certainly not for anyone.

“What do we do?” Yaz asks, rather impatiently.

“As long as I keep my eyes on it, you’re safe,” the only thing that comes to your mind is shoving the statue out of the TARDIS. Maybe that’s why the spaceship let you in. Sneaky little thing. Should have known there was an ulterior motive for her kindness. Despite the position you were in, it was fortunate that the angel heard your voice. It reminded you of your old days with the Doctor, always having each other’s back.

The Doctor is still silent, which is unusual to her. And when the Doctor is silent, it’s hardly ever a good thing.

“But what about you?” stressed Yaz.

“I have an idea,” you took a couple of steps towards the door, eyes getting dry, but still wide open to face the statue. You were surprised by your stamina. “Doctor, you drive the Tardis outta here, as soon as I get the angel out.”

In that moment the Doctor’s frown deepened. She knew there was no time to ask questions that didn’t help the situation you were in. But she was dying in curiosity now. You knew her. How did you know her? Who were you?

“You know who I am…”

Yaz exchanged a quick glance with the Doctor, but it only lasted one second as her hazel eyes turned back to you. Nothing about you seemed familiar.

You grinned slightly. “I do. Of course I do. Nice to meet ya Yaz, by the way. Was hoping for a different scenario to shake hands, but this will do for now.”

“She knows me too,” Yaz whispered almost in awe, as if the last she was expecting was to be as popular as the Doctor.

“Listen, I’m gonna blink, hoping the angel won’t catch me before I reopen my eyes,” you explained, feeling your back adhere to the TARDIS’ door. Your hands fumbling with it, to push it open.

“It will catch you,” The Doctor’s voice sounded alarmed. “You’re too close. It’s too dangerous.”

“Not if I use this,” you pulled out the vortex manipulator from the back pocket of your jeans. Now the Doctor was really really intrigued by you and the very familiar object in your hand. For a moment, she thought of Missy. She had the exact same thing to travel through space and time. But you weren’t her, you couldn’t be her. She regenerated into the Master and last time she checked he was a he, now trapped in the Kasaavin dimension. Unless… no.

Her features dimmed. “Tell me you’re not the Master,” it came almost as a plea, a weary one.

You scrunched up your face and blinked only briefly. Shit. The Angel was right at your face. You jolted. “Fuck!”, you muttered under your breath. “I’m not– that’s offensive. Very offensive. I take offense at that, in case it wasn’t clear.”

The Doctor’s lips pressed into a thin line, before muttering, “Sorry, I needed to ask. I’m very confused and when I’m confused I ask questions. Brimming with questions, me. Hate unanswered questions. But love a good mystery to solve.”

“Welcome to the club,” Jaz joked softly.

You giggled, “Right, my eyes are watering, so at three, I’m gonna blink and you Doc, you better move the TARDIS. Would be nice if you could materialize around me to save me from this mess of yours.”

“You didn’t even need to ask. You save us, I save you back. Plus, you still owe me an explanation on how you got in here,” she teased.

“All in good time,” you promised, and instead of blinking you decide to glance at the Doctor, for the very first time. Oh the butterflies that came fluttering in your stomach at the sight of her. She kept your gaze for only a split second, hazel eyes diving into yours with such intensity, you shuddered. You clicked the button on the vortex manipulator and disappeared out of the TARDIS, and so did the angel. It worked. The spaceship dematerialized from your sight, leaving you standing about fifteen feet away from the statue that looked very angry at you now.

“Sorry, Angela,” you trailed off, shifting your body weight from one foot to another, “couldn't have you hurt the Doctor. Nor her friend. How did you enter the TARDIS anyway?”

You could see the statue’s features, sharp and distraught. Its forehead twisted into a menacing frown, fingers curved like crow’s claws. You accidentally blinked again and the angel appeared right in front of you. You swallowed hard. Where was the Doctor? She wouldn’t leave you there at the mercy of a weeping angel, would she?

Before you can ask yourself twice, the familiar hum of the TARDIS comes to your ears, slowly turning louder. The blue box was materializing behind you. A smirk played out on your features, “I’d love to keep chatting with you, but I have a curfew, I can’t really break. And mommy’s back,” you teased, relief washing over you as soon as the TARDIS’ door swung open.

Your initial thought was to recoil towards the spaceship, but apparently the Doctor had other ideas. You let out a squeal, when her hand, both firm and gentle, grasps you from the back of your jacket, pulling you inside. If it weren’t for her arms steading you, you’d have crashed against her front, like the clumsy little thing you have always been around her. “Gotcha,” she grinned, “Saved the savior!”

You let out a nervous giggle. “Thanks. Doubted you for a moment.”

The Doctor merely rolled her eyes at you. “A promise is a promise.” That face really suited her. She was pretty, and her skin looked so very soft, it took you all your willpower not to reach out and run a hand to her cheek just to prove your point.

The TARDIS buzzed again, when Yaz pushed a couple of levers down. She was moving it elsewhere. A human. You couldn’t hide the stupor from your eyes, “You can drive the TARDIS,” it was meant to sound like a question, but it came out as a statement, a breathed one.

Yaz’s chest swelled in pride, “I’ve learned a trick or two. Thanks for earlier by the way.”

You nodded your head as if that was nothing. “Piece of cake.”

The Doctor never dropped her eyes from you. You could tell she was grateful you had helped, however she was still dying to know who you were, “You never introduced yourself…”

You gave her a tight smile. “Right, sorry…Rude of me, innit?” Your breath hitched, and you looked down for a moment at the tip of your boots. It was silly to feel that way. Sad. Disappointed. Hurt. You always knew she wasn’t going to remember you, and yet that didn’t save you from the pain you were feeling in your chest. Being a stranger in her eyes was the worst thing ever experienced. Even regenerating wasn’t that bad in comparison.

The Doctor tilted her head, fearing to have said something wrong, “Are you—?”

Before she could finish, you blurted out in one breath, “I’m the Sage.”

The Doctor’s eyes squinted, before widening in shock. It was a title. Like hers. Like the Master’s. “Do you mean-?”

Yaz held her breath, and glanced at the Doctor whose breath was coming short and uneven. Quite a shock to realize there’s someone else like you in the Universe.

“Yes,” you breathed out, “I’m a Time Lord,” you smiled and took her hand in yours, placing it upon your chest for her to feel two crazy heartbeats.

[ray935sworld]

Lost podium - marcmarc

He was used to it by now. Not that he didn't hate it as much. But it had some weird familiarity to not pull in Parc ferme and return to his garage instead.

He was used to saying an apology to his mechanics for fucking up the race. He has been so close to a podium. P2. He had been on P2 for so long and losing the 2nd place to an 8 time world champion surely wasn't the worst thing. Especially when said was on a better bike than he was.

And P3 was completely acceptable. He would be incredibly happy with a P3. But then he had pulled the stupidest move in existence. Going wide and letting Bastanini through.

He could basically hear his father sign loudly. He didn't want to talk to him right now. He knew what they'd say. He wondered when his guilt would be too much and he finally did call his parents. He had been stupid and now he had to endure the consequences all while trying his best in less than 24 hours. He felt like a child, failing one exams just to have another test in the next lesson and therefore being unable to concentrate on anything.

The unforced errors would forever break his neck. If every unforced error were an overtake, he'd have more wins than Vale and Agostini together.

He went through the interview and the evening like he always did. He told the same things like he always did. He spoke about progress he didn't truly believe in. He faked some happiness and optimism. He did believed in his team but he wasn't able to actually execute it.

He congratulated Pecco as the academy met for dinner. He forced himself to laugh about the bad jokes that were made on his behalf and shot the same ones back. He listened to Luca ranting about the Honda. He was obviously torn between happiness that there was some progress and frustration that he was still stuck in the 2nd half of the grid and barely able to fight for the remaining points.

He was used to the weird feeling of knowing he could have done better by now. He hated it none the less.

He knew how to get ride of those thoughts. But today, it was different. Today he had been so close to Marc. He had been close to him the whole weekend. Somehow they had always ended up near each other.

He had no idea how but he definitely wasn't complaining. Even though his stupid brain had decided to give himself false hope and think that Marc had looked at him during the media day and the fan parade. He even thought he had caught him sliming at him, but he had probably grinned over a joke from Alex.

Still all those moment and his mistake that cost him a podium were stuck in his mind.

He was tossing and turning in his bed but he couldn't fall asleep. He wanted to blame the jack let. But he knew it'd be a lie.

He contemplated staying awake until he was too tired to even keep his eyes open. But that would probably be still a few hours to go and then he would manage only 3 hours to sleep. 4 max. And then he'd be tired-grumpy and unable to focus on his job.

He sighed as he stood up again. He quickly threw on some running gear and went outside. Maybe getting some energy burned would help.

At the end he ran 1 lap. He was about to start the next one when someone said his name.

"Bezzecchi?" He flinched. He hadn't excatly expected company. He turned around, to see a smaller man, somehow dressed in a hoodie despite the still thick heat.

"Marquez?" he asked confused cause he couldn't quite believe that the soft lightning of the circuit was actually showing him the older gresini rider.

"Did you expect someone else at... 2 am?" he asked with a laugh. "I didn't expect anyone at 2am. What are you doing here?" he asked confused.

He was panicked. Slitly. Somehow it felt like he was crossing boundaries. Vale's boundaries, but still boundaries he should respect. After all, he had done a lot for him and talking with Marc Marquez of all people in the middle of the night surely would pass as questionable. At least. Especially cause Marc had been his crush for quite a while now.

"I could ask you the same" he countered. "But I asked first" "Right. Okay, I couldn't sleep. It was a long day and the traveling is still in my bones" "Yeah... Same" he muttered.

"Naaaah, I don't believe you" "What?" "I don't believe you. I'm old. I can't adjust to the time that well but you... What's really the reason why you're standing here?"

Marc looked at him for a second. His eyes wandered. He was clearly checking him out and a part of him regretted while the other was super happy he had gone for the extra tight running shirt.

Marc didn't had the decency to at least and hide that he was, in fact, looking at Bez body. His chest, to be clear. The tight and sweaty shirt left no room for imagination. It also gave him the answer wheter he was still wearing the nipple piercing Marc had once spotted on a picture.

He was.

He wondered what they would feel like against his skin. His lips. Before he realize what he was doing, he licked his lips.

Bez was starting to panic. His crush was clearly checking him out and now - Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had to do something. He had to get away or close or -

"I am very sorry about you losing the podium." Marc said, eyes now locked with his. His voice was soft, but there was a daring tone to it. "I was looking forwards to share another one with you. You deserved it"

Without any of them noticing, they got slightly closer. The distance between them shrunked. "Thank you... It was... Well, you know how it is. And congrats to your podium"

"Thanks... Would have been more fun with you there"

Suddenly Marco felt a hand on his wrist. He didn't dare look. Instead he watched how Marc's eyes were focused on the bracelets there. He had got then from his sister, his mom and his best friend in Italy.

They were really meaningful to him, so he normally didn't like people touching them. This however seemed different. He didn't flinch or pulled back. Instead he tested how far Marc would go and Marc tested how far he could go. Searching for the limit. As always.

"I like having you on the podium... It makes you smile in a very beautiful way. And you look fucking breathtaking up there" he whispered, his hand now lingering around the younger ones fingers and the simply grabbing them.

Bez didn't hesitate and let their fingers intervene. It felt warm and he smiled as he looked down at Marc. They were standing closer than ever.

"Marc?" he whispered. "Yeah?" "Why are you doing this?" he heard himself ask and with that, he once again destroyed his own luck.

With that simple question doubted returned to his mind. He wondered why Marc Marquez would be interested in him - the rider that didn't live up to the expectations the most.

Unless... All the warnings that Vale had shared with the academy about other riders manipulations techniques returned. He felt panic rise on him. Was that part of it? But why him? Why not Pecco? Pecco would make more sense. Okay, Pecco was married but he wouldn't put it past Marc not to be bothered by that.

"Because I like you, Marco. You've woken my interested since you stepped up and you are smoking hot. Especially when sweaty and on top" he grinned and Bez felt his stomach heating up. He hadn't quite expected a statement that bold. "On top of the podium of course..."

"Then why do you... Why now?" After all, this was his 3rd year in MotoGP. "Well, I doubt I would still have a head if I tried this last year... And in 2022, I was out half the time. Not really a good bonding opportunity." He laughed. The darkness around them swallowed it.

Marco wasn't sure what to say or think. But there was no need. Marc crossed the last distance between them, standing on his tiptoes as he kissed his cheek. Bez immediately felt them heating up.

He knew he was turning red but Marc just smiled at him.

"Good luck tomorrow, Marco" he said as he tilted his head to the side he let go of Bez hand. "Try to get some sleep. Okay?"

He was about to turn around when Bez grabbed his wrist. He couldn't help himself. Confused he looked at him. "Is that some sick twisted way to destroy my concentration for tomorrow? Is... Did you tell that to Pecco too? Is that your way of fucking other ones races up"

He knew it wasn't nice what he accused him of, but he had to.

Marc froze. He didn't like to admit that the accusation hurt more than he had expected. He knew where it was coming from. Of course. So he didn't blame the younger rider. And in his defense, he had used some questionable methods already. Flirting didn't seem like out of pocket for him. But fake flirting? With Bez? No.

"I am not playing with you. I am very serious about this." he reassusered him. "I want you to have a good race and see you smiling on the podium again. It's where you belong and you look very pretty there."

He could see that Bez wasn't believing him. He wondered if putting his hands on his cheeks and pulling him down to him and kissing him after very sentence until he was convinced might be too much. He decided it was.

"And no. I never talked to Pecco like that and I never would. Or anyone else for the record. At least not since I know you." "I don't believe you." He smiled. It was a calm, sad smile.

"I know. That's okay. I really hope you can somehow find it in yourself to let me try and give you trust in me. I am really not lying to you, Marco." "And how would I know that?"

"Do you not trust me because you think I'm actually a bad person or because the people around you told you not to trust me?" he finally said. It was all he wanted to know. And not getting an answer, instead being answered with silence, was enough he had to know.

He smiled again, kissed his other cheek as well. "Well, then... Maybe you should start forming your own opinions. I'd be happy to help" he offered as he walked away.

"Tomorrow night. My motorhome" A thumbs up was all the answers that was given.

That was the last thing spoken between them, before Bez went to sleep. And had the best night of rest in a long time.

[bbcphile]

Today, I’m crying about Li Xiangyi’s childhood, the way it taught him that losing meant he didn’t deserve to exist, and how that governed his response to the East Sea battle ten years earlier and to all the revelations at the end of the show.

Li Xiangyi obviously loves his shifu and shiniang, and they definitely loved him, too, given that his shifu wanted him to focus more on enjoying life and less on changing the world and obtaining victories, and given that his shifu sacrificed himself to try to save Xiangyi and his shiniang wanted to. So, his childhood with them definitely had more love, support, stability, and learning opportunities than his earlier life, which features such traumas as seeing his mom murdered in front of him, living on the streets starting at age 4, watching his older brother die in front of him and then forgetting his older brother existed, probably from traumatic amnesia/dissociation. That being said, though, his shiniang and shifu made some truly horrific decisions that caused some epic problems for both Li Xiangyi and Shan Gudao! It’s not just that they withheld incredibly important knowledge about Xiangyi’s early life and background from him (who his parents were, why they were murdered, that he had an older brother, the secret of his heritage)--although wow, that is a terrible way to raise a traumatized child–it’s also that they fostered competition instead of caring, both with the children they raised and between each other. I’m thinking in particular of the fact that, once shiniang and shifu separated, they each took a child (based on drawing lots) and had Xiangyi and Shan Gudao fight once a month to determine not just which kid was the better martial artist, but which adult was a better teacher, and, by extension, parent and person! 

That last thing is just so infuriating and, frankly, abusive: it makes each kid think competition and winning is how affection is earned, and that any sort of mistake or loss or failure is the absolute end of the world, because you’re never just letting yourself down or not reaching your potential: you are proving that you don’t deserve their care and affection. It also taught Xiangyi that he was responsible for their caregiver’s happiness and reputation, and once you have that kind of overdeveloped sense of responsibility as a child, you carry it through into every aspect of your life, because you don’t know any other way of being. No wonder Xiangyi thought he carried the world on his shoulders: growing up, the mountain home/training center was his world–since it seems like he didn’t have interactions with anyone else until he left the mountain at age 15–so he had been carrying that belief for at least a decade without having seen any other models of ways to exist. 

Also, we know Xiangyi thinks he owes his shiniang and shifu for having brought him into their family: having that added sense of debt makes everything so much worse, because he essentially thinks he owes his entire existence to them. It seems like Xiangyi felt like he had to win the competitions to prove he deserved to be there, but also to prove he deserved to exist. 

For his early life, he only felt the positive side of this expectation, because he never lost, since his martial arts skills were so much stronger than Shan Gudao’s. He was unintentionally primed to assume the outcome was a foregone conclusion, because he didn’t have any real challengers. This also hammered home the idea that he was right about things, that he should call the shots, and that collaboration wasn’t really relevant to his life, since it wasn’t as if his shifu taught Xiangyi and Shan Gudao how to fight side by side to defeat other opponents. Losing seemed like something that happened to other people (namely, Shan Gudao), and given the emphasis his shifu and shiniang placed on the competitions, I imagine winning time after time was more than just an adrenaline rush; it was positive reinforcement that he deserved the good things that had come his way, had repaid the debt he owed his shiniang and shifu, and would continue to earn love, respect, a family, a home, and a right to exist.

But when he lost? When he had never had a model for what losing safely feels like? (When the only times he lost were when he lost deliberately to try to cheer up Shan Gudao, but was berated for it, and told it was shameful and wrong to throw a fight for any reason, so losing becomes even more associated with shame?) When losing wasn’t a way to learn, but a sign that he might lose his love, his family, his home? What happens when the scaffolding upholding his right to exist—his ability to win—comes crashing down?

Suicidal ideation. Because he lost not only the battle with Di Feisheng, but also his shixiong, his shixiong’s body, his fiancee, the lives of his men, his reputation, his new home (the Sigu sect), and being able-bodied. In short, he lost everything part of him always feared he’d lose and then some. So why would he think he still has a right to exist, after that? How could he believe someone telling him it wasn’t his fault, when all he has ever known is that the responsibility for everyone he cares for lies with him? 

(I feel like it’s really telling that he didn’t go back to his shiniang’s or shifu’s home after everything went to hell; he said it was because he had been unfilial and couldn’t bear to go back after his shifu died, but it also seems like, given that he had lost everything else, he felt like he didn’t deserve the comfort, family, and home it represented, so staying away is his punishment.)

Given all this, it makes total sense that Li Lianhua wants so desperately to think of Li Xiangyi as dead: he can’t actually reconcile being alive and having failed. So he tries to create a new persona that doesn’t want to be the best in the jianghu or thrive on praise and responsibility, while he tries to correct what he thinks of as his mistakes, before he dies of Bicha poisoning. 

He tries to live the life his shifu wanted for him, where he enjoys pleasures like wine, food, relaxation, and growing things instead of focusing on making a name for himself or winning, and he tries to stay away from people, attachments, and love, because you can’t lose them again if you don’t have them to begin with.

But of course, saying someone is a different person doesn’t make it so. He still wants to be the best–the best physician, the best at scheming, the best at detective work–because he still doesn’t actually know how to be any other way. So he still has the same problems as Li Xiangyi: he still withholds information and commands more than collaborates (it’s frankly amazing he works as well with Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng as he does), still has an overdeveloped sense of responsibility (he believes he has to be the one to save those he cares about and stop everyone else, whether Shan Gudao or the emperor), and at the end, is still suicidal (because now he thinks he’s responsible for the death of his shifu, for not seeing Shan Gudao’s plot, and probably in some warped way for the Nanyin situation once he learns the truth of his heritage, because the man has never met a situation he can’t take the blame for). 

It doesn’t surprise me at all that Li Lianhua doesn’t fully get how much he means to Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing at the end, or that he thinks they just want their version of Li Xiangyi: he can’t imagine being loved and still having made a mistake.

[aurea-corde]

I've never seen a single episode of anything related to watcher but I am eating up all this drama. Also sorry to y'all going through this

i appreciate that anon 😭 i've seen several good nuanced takes on the situation thankfully. the company definitely did mess up how it introduced the streaming service to people: they said in the video they were going to paywall all existing and new content and then in the comments and in the variety article pretended like that was never their intent. the variety article reveals that they were in fact initially told watcher was going to delete all existing content. the CEO in particular but in general all the founders said that the amount they are charging is affordable - specifically that anyone could afford it - which no they can't obviously. As they are now finding out the hard way. The CEO Steven also made an instagram post insinuating people who wouldn't subscribe just no longer want to watch them, rather than the reality which is that a massive majority of the audience can't afford to. Because he is the CEO, people are blaming the entire thing on him, but it's also important to remember there are actually three founder-owners with decision-making abilities in the company. Shane and Ryan are adults, and the way people are acting like Steven is some kind of dictator, Ryan just went along with it but Shane is the people's anticapitalist hero who was simply outvoted is not a great look. Especially the posts that refuse to acknowledge even the possibility of racial biases here. Mistakes were made, poc are not immune to criticism, but let's consider why so many feel like Shane was forced into this by the evil Steven (and people in the comments have literally called him evil for this) and either lump Ryan in with him or give Ryan no agency in the situation whatsoever. Steven is the most likely to have made the proposal as the closest thing Watcher has to a business-minded founder, but the other two clearly agreed with him. They could have just decided not to be in the video. I also don't see a world where they contractually obligated themselves to every whim of Steven's like some people are suggesting.

Do I think they're a bit sheltered in their LA life? Yeah, probably. I'm pretty sheltered myself - I live a comfortable middle class life in Australia, have a good job and am studying law. I could definitely afford the subscription. But I don't want to atm, or at least until they respond to the situation. Are they the worst most evil capitalists because they want to charge money for the content they create? No, not inherently. People supported them on Patreon because of course creatives should be paid for their labour, and ideally paid well enough to live comfortably. But the combo of bad business decisions (e.g. hiring too many staff too quickly while also wanting to pay them above a living wage, not advertising the patreon, not utilising revenue streams that aren't a streaming service like youtube memberships, spending what Ryan has said is hundreds of thousands of dollars on a single season of a series they have called Ghost Files) and the fact the CEO is pretty open about his comfortable lifestyle (drives a tesla which btw folks isn't a luxury car it's just a more expensive one, has a $300 matcha machine, has a series based on fine dining vs more affordable restaurants), means people are understandably mad because they are struggling financially and the founders (from what we know) are not - but they're trying to tell people that 6 USD is affordable for everyone.

It's a lot less to do with the fact of them charging for content as much as the way they went about it and in particular how it's been phrased to people has come across really insensitive. There's other logistics with the streaming service itself that were not thought out at all for international viewers, but I won't get into that here. And the pretending they were always going to leave their content up and telling viewers not to spread misinformation is scummy to me - at least acknowledge that was a mistake you made and backtracked on. It's just a mess but I really loved their videos and hope they make Youtube's Greatest Apology Video Ever (unironically) and try to undo some of the damage.

edit: someone in the replies made a great point that teslas could actually be considered a luxury car in some countries outside of the US, and I fully agree that 6 USD is 1) too much for what they offer, esp in this economic climate and 2) wayyyyy too much when converted to other currencies. I've seen other Australians say the conversion is too much for them but I know viewers in other countries say it comes out to literally thousands for them - if they can even access the site at all from their country.

[taylortruther]

I also thing that she was probably drawn to his “fuck it” attitude and his willingness to be seen in public with her. Those things must have felt super refreshing coming out of the hyper vigilance about public image that joe was cultivating. I think Matty probably was really (I hesitate to say Good For Her) useful for her in figuring out what was possible to be public about. I think Joe made her feel like a dirty little secret that she needed to clean up and present herself in a very particular way to the world in order to stay in his good graces. But Matty was attractive because he said “fuck that, you’re hot and talented and more than just housewife material and the whole world should see that you’re mine” which obviously got warped into “you’re a trophy game animal and an idea in my head and a prize for me to win and play with as I choose”. But the initial contrast feels like the key to me. I’m so glad she has someone now who sees her as a full human being though!!!!

i think this could be true. he wasn't ashamed of her or her fame (which is just funny given the "emasculating" comments he made in 2014, who would've thought!) and wanted to be on her literal stage, watching her perform, wanted to get married to her, have kids with her. these were just things she wanted SO badly with joe, it's what she had planned on. she built up this fantasy about what they could've been - and so did he, by her own admission - and the reality did not measure up.

also, i think "i would've died for your sins" is closely related to "when that sky rains fire on you and you're persona non grata, i'll tell you i've been there too, and that none of it matters" and they are both key to understanding part of why taylor got with matty, too.

he has his fair share of controversies, and she felt she could ride through it, fix him, so people would accept him. she was willing to do A LOT of work for his sake, but mostly for hers: a get-love-quick scheme for her happiness. it shows how she viewed his "crazy" and hers, as well. two self-destructive artists, but her with the parachute to save them from the fallout. it tells a lot about how she views public criticism and how she views matty the person as distinct from his public mistakes.

[frankoceanluvrr]

𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 2 — 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

pairing : friends to lovers , fem!reader , college!peter, college!au

warnings : nothing too serious. english isn’t my first language, urdu is! so please tell me about grammatical errors like spelling and punctuation as those i struggle with

summary : [Name] and Peter have been friends since college started. He soon finds out his friend has a ‘crush’ on the masked vigilante Spiderman, and cant help but feel a little jealous.

part 1 here! : https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/frankoceanluvrr/715754434612838400

a/n : @natashamaximoff69 requested! thank you for 10 followers !!!!! ❤️ sorry this is a bit rushed

“I hate studying.” You groaned, putting your head on the table.

“Well, maybe you hate it because you’re always doodling instead of actually learning. Who do you draw again? What’s he called? Spiderman?” Peter teased.

“I hate you so much” you laughed lifting your head up.

You guys weren’t even studying for anything important. You both just wanted to spend time together, even if it meant studying topics in advance.

“I gotta go,” Peter said, looking at his watch, “See you tomorrow?”

“Uh, actually, you wanna go see a movie tonight?” You asked, not even looking at him.

“What? Like a date?” He asked quickly.

“Yeah, like a date.” You breathed, meeting his soft but excited gaze.

“What time?” He said, shocked this was even happening.

“Just text me when you’re done doing whatever you’re doing.” You said, putting all your things in your bag, “should I walk you to wherever you’re going?”

“Wow, you’re really the gentleman [Name],” he smirked, “but no it’s fine, thanks though”

“Be safe” you smiled as he walked away.

You ran to your friends as soon as you saw him leave.

“Did you ask?” Your friend Gwen asked, grabbing both your arms.

“He said yes!” You smiled widely.

“Geez, calm down [Name]” Your other friend Mj laughed, “it’s just a date right?”

“Well, I might ask him to be my boyfriend by the end of it. I don’t know though, what if he thought it’s just like.. a friend date? Oh my God that would be so embarrassing—” You rambled before being cut off.

“Friend dates exist?” Gwen looked puzzled, “anyway, don’t overthink it [Name]. He so obviously likes you back.”

“Yeah [Name], you practically have nothing to worry about. We can help you get ready for it too” Mj smiled.

You spent the whole day with them in your dorm planning everything down to potential conversation answers. He spent the day.. differently. Being Spiderman wasn’t easy. He was obviously excited for the date, but he had other problems.

It was now 10pm, you were staring at your phone. It was off on your bed and your friends were staring with you.

“Maybe you should go over to his dorm, he’s probably nervous.” Gwen sighed, passing you your phone.

“You sure he’s not just standing me up?” You frowned, looking at your friends.

“No, and even if he was, he’d be making a big mistake. You’re a catch.” Gwen smiled, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“[Name], just go to his dorm, he might be waiting for you or something.” Mj laughed, pushing you on your way.

You got to his dorm and knocked on the door. The door opened slightly, and you could see a figure crawling through the window. You furrowed your eyebrows, opening the door even more until it made a noise. The figure stopped and began to turn around, you hid behind the door but it started to open even more revealing you.

Then you saw him. Spiderman? Breaking into Peters dorm?

You reached into your pockets frantically to ring the police. He rushed towards you.

“I’m not a criminal I promise.” His tone panicked, shutting the door behind you.

And with that, he took the mask off revealing himself.

“Peter?” You said, eyes widened.

“Hey” He said sheepishly, the shock not even settling in for him yet.

You were the first person to know he was Spiderman.

“How? When? What?” Your questions could barely get out your mouth, “you’re Spiderman??”

“Well, to answer your first questions, a radioactive spider bit me when I was 15. I’ve never told anyone about this, and neither can you. Secret identity you know?”

“That won’t be a problem, but are you okay?” You said, noticing his face was slightly bruised.

“I’m fine now” He smiled softly, taking your hands.

“Do you have like 8 hidden eyes?” You said standing back slightly, taking in the information given to you.

“What?” He laughed, “no, [Name], I don’t have 8 eyes unfortunately.”

“This cant be real” You furrowed your eyebrows, “I thought you said Spiderman was old and had bleached hair?”

His face flushed, “I was jealous.”

“Of yourself?” You laughed, pushing his arm.

“Shut up, it’s just the way you were talking about him”

“I was talking about you though.”

“Whatever, why don’t we just go to the movies hm? I heard they’re re-running scream.” He said attempting to shift the conversation.

“Good idea.” You smiled, “but I still have more questions you know.”

“Ask me on the way, let me get changed.” He said running off to the bathroom, “you look really beautiful by the way.”

And that’s when it really settled in that he was Spiderman. He was the one who was complimenting you. The one helping you and thousands of others. You began to worry about him as he was getting ready. He had to face danger everyday. Risking his life everyday. Before your thoughts could get any worse, he came out dressed like Peter Parker. The Peter you fell in love with, not Spiderman.

“I hope you know I don’t like you more because you’re Spiderman, I still hate you” You smirked.

“Yeah yeah whatever you say [Name].”

In reality, he was scared you might only like him now because he’s Spiderman. He’s never been so wrong about you.

The walk to the movies was filled with every question you could think of, and Peter didn’t mind. He loved the fact he could talk to someone about this, but he loved talking to you more.

[silverofthunder]

☆ tattoo in my mind ☆

Secondo x Copia

1,266 words || tattoo!AU, fluff (in a way), a bit of teasing, flirty Secondo, SFW

i was really pissed off yesterday and wanted to write something controversial, so here we go… obviously, this is an AU and should be treated as such. mistakes are possible as i wrote this so fast.

if this isn’t your jam, don’t read this

this is my way of showing support to those who have been getting some criticism about the things they like (and write about). you do you, you're allowed to enjoy things however you want ♡

Copia felt the nervous sweat on his skin as he finally sat down on the chair, ready to get his first tattoo. The tattoo artist was speaking to him but half of the words seemed to blend into a incoherent mumble as Copia focused his gaze anywhere else but the equipments. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, squeezing his shirt in his fists.

”You ready?”

Copia glanced at the tattoo artist – a lovely woman, who smiled at him kindly – and nodded.

”Yeah.”

He drew in a deep breath, releasing the air slowly and the woman got to work, placing the tattoo machine on his chest. Copia tensed slightly, waiting for the pain but relaxed soon as it wasn’t as bad as he had thought.

The bell rang after a while and Copia’s eyes went to the door, seeing as an bald, older man stepped in. He was wearing only a white tank top and black trousers, and tattoos covered both of his arms, traveling all up to his neck. Copia swallowed as the man’s gaze briefly stopped to him – he looked a bit grumpy and the odd contact lense in his other eye only highlighted it.

”Nice to see you again, Secondo.” Another tattoo artist came from the back room, greeting the man. Copia watched as the man just nodded, walking straight to the chair on the opposite of Copia as the tattoo artist followed him. Copia’s eyes were glued to the man – he had obviously spent several hours under the needle as he was basically now a canvas filled with ink.

The man’s gaze found Copia’s again, the expression on his face staying grumpy as his eyes traveled to Copia’s bare chest. Copia swallowed again, now tearing his gaze away, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks.

Oh fuck. Of course something like this would happen to him even in a tattoo shop. Every time some hot guy would even look at him, he would turn into a blushing mess. A string of curses run through his head as he fiddled with his shirt and then he heard a low, quiet chuckle coming from where the man was.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

”First time is always the hardest.”

Copia’s gaze moved back to the man – he was still looking at him but this time he had the tiniest of smirks on his lips and Copia could feel his blush deepen as he mumbled something that probably wasn’t even a word. The man looked amused and Copia had a hard time staying still but somehow he managed to do so. It wouldn’t be nice if his tattoo ended up being messed up.

”Be careful, soon you might end up getting covered in tattoos.”

Copia blinked, his brain completely short circuiting for a moment. And then he heard that low chuckle again and the sound of it seemed to reach deep and Copia felt like he could melt on the spot.

Fuck.

”Secondo, please, don’t tease my customer,” Copia’s tattoo artist said. However, there wasn’t real annoyance in her voice.

Secondo just gave a slight shake of head, a small smirk still on his lips.

”I was just stating what might happen.”

”I don’t think I will take that many tattoos,” Copia stated, not really knowing how he managed to get anything sensible out.

Secondo’s brow quirked up.

”But you’re planning taking more?”

”Yeah, I guess,” Copia answered.

Secondo then made a face and Copia moved his gaze for the first time from the man’s face to his hand that was getting tattoeed. Or more specifically, his fingers. That must have hurt. But it wasn’t like the man had much other choices to take a tattoo on his upper body. And Copia couldn’t really see that he would tattoo his bald head first, though the man probably would pull that off, too.

Copia dared to take a look at his tattoo, the black ink now adorning his chest. It wasn’t anything big or complicated and it seemed that soon it would be finished for which he was glad of. He really could use some fresh air and technically he could have asked for a break but he didn’t dare as he didn’t want to make himself seem silly.

Luckily for him, the time went fast and Copia was ready to pay and leave. He could feel Secondo’s gaze on him as he walked to the counter. After paying he got a instructions of how to take care of the tattoo until it was healed and after the last thank yous and good day wishes he headed to the door and stepped out of the shop.

He didn’t get very far when he heard a familiar voice and stopped right in his tracks, turning slowly around. Secondo was standing close to the door of the shop and Copia raised his brows as he walked to him.

”Yes?”

Secondo shifted, clearing his throat, then moving his hand behind his neck and for a moment he looked like he wasn’t sure what he was doing. Copia offered him a small smile, trying his best at ignoring the way his heart made little jumps in his chest as he waited for Secondo to speak.

”Uh, I’m not good at this shit…” the man started, shifting nervously. ”Would you want to… go out with me?”

Secondo lowered his gaze and Copia blinked as the words slowly sunk in, though he still needed to pinch himself to make sure that he wasn’t just dreaming or something. No, he was wide awake and this was real. And the hot guy had just asked him out. Copia felt the way too familiar burn on his cheeks and let out a tiny, nervous laugh.

”Yes,” Copia answered, and Secondo let out a sigh, the tension leaving his body as his gaze met Copia’s again.

”Great,” Secondo stated and dropped his hand from his neck and put it into his pocket, taking then his phone out. ”Give me your number.”

Copia had to take a moment to think what his number was as the whole situation was really messing with his rational thinking – which was nothing new of course. As he eventually remembered the number, he said it slowly to Secondo.

”Uh, I don’t think I caught your name.”

”Oh, it’s Copia.”

”Copia,” Secondo repeated and Copia nodded, watching as the man typed it down and then saved his number. After that Secondo put his phone back into his pocket and awkwardly motioned towards the door of the tattoo shop.

”I have to go back but I guess we’ll see soon.”

”Yeah,” Copia stated, trying his best to smile. Secondo flashed him a crooked smile and nodded and then opened the door, going back into the tattoo shop. Copia stared at the door in awe for a while before shaking his head and turning on his heels. While he started walking away, a smile rose to his lips and his heart was fluttering in his chest, the excitement bubbling at the bottom of his stomach.

It was still kind of hard to realize what had happened but Copia certainly had no complains. Though there still was that little thought in the back of his mind, reminding him that asking out and actually having the date was a different thing.

Secondo might even not show up when they eventually would be supposed to meet but Copia didn’t want to worry about it now. This little moment of enthusiasm he now felt would surely keep him going for a few days and it was all that mattered.

[pardonmydelays]

what do you love the most about twenty one pilots?

i fucking love this question, but there's no easy answer to it. i guess i'm gonna have to try tho, because sometimes i feel like maybe some of you don't really understand WHY i totally changed my entire blog when clancy came out (it's kinda like me loving this band was my biggest secret for such a long time, idk. i still remember how a few months before it i've mentioned something and anix literally yelled at me like "WHY THE FUCK YOU NEVER TOLD ME YOU LIKE TWENTY ONE PILOTS" lmao. anyway).

first of all, no one has ever made me feel so seen and understood. there's real magic in tyler joseph's lyrics, you might hate me for what i'm about to say right now, but speaking of tortured poets - for me it's not taylor, it's tyler. and the scariest part of it all is that i very often relate to his lyrics. but that's also beautiful - it's therapeutic in a way. so when clancy came out and i realized i relate to pretty much EVERY song on this record, i just thought to myself, oh lord, how did i survive this long without their music. it's always been them for me. i will never abandon them again, i swear.

second thing, the lore. you all know i'm a slut for stories told through music (*cough* musical theatre *cough*). also, if the plot of the story is complex and weird as fuck, there's a pretty big chance it will become my favourite thing in the world. the entire lore is an insane metaphor for mental health struggles so, obviously, i can find a part of myself in it. i would die for their lore, honestly. it's all i can think about. and clancy will always be my fucking blorbo.

another thing i love a lot about them, and it's something you don't really see if you don't watch their interviews or live performances, they are literally just two dudes. both josh and tyler have always been very anxious and awkward and weird and that's what makes them more human in my opinion - just two fucking idiots who are best friends, lmao. they are so relatable in every possible way. they are also the funniest dudes in the entire world. and their friendship is so fucking beautiful. the only difference between us and them, truly, is that they are extremely talented and they have their own band.

also, they care about the clique so fucking much, this was probably mentioned on my blog before (maybe even today in a previous ask). they don't care about the charts, about awards, about anything really, all they care about is their music and fans. they don't do it to be the best band in the world. they do it to save lives - our lives as much as their own (if it wasn't for this music i don't know how i would have fought this). and that's what makes them different and honestly, better than the other artists.

they are also pretty much unproblematic. i wasn't really sure if i should mention that, but i feel like i need to. tyler joseph made one stupid mistake a few years ago - the way people reacted to this still breaks my fucking heart. he realized he was wrong tho, he apologized. the other day i saw a post here on tumblr about how he's fucking problematic and racist and the worst man on the planet etc etc. can we... fucking stop, please. it was just a stupid joke and he knows it was dumb and unnecessary. most people wouldn't even apologize, but he did. end of story. i will defend him with my life (not saying he is perfect, but shit, if you want to cancel him for one mistake maybe you should look at yourself first).

i feel like there are thousand different reasons but i'm just gonna stop here, because it's too fucking long already and no one will read it anyway.

[george-weasleys-girl]

Act Like You Mean It

Start here:

Chapter 4

Summary: George and Y/N are oblivious idiots in love who agree to fake date in the attempt to drive away Y/N's unwanted suitor.

Warnings: allusions to sex, underage drinking, cursing

~•~

George Weasley x Fem!reader

~•~

Y/N tasted of firewhiskey, and of the toffee she'd eaten just moments before they stumbled onto the dance floor, drunk and lovesick. Kissing her wasn't meant to happen, and George wasn't entirely sure how it happened. Nor did he care that it might be a bad idea as he melted into her embrace, her hands sliding up his behind his head to pull him closer. It was everything he'd ever dreamed it would be and more.

~•~

George's lips were warm and soft against hers, sending her into a dizzy spiral that had nothing to do with the alcohol surging through her veins. A little voice in her head screamed that she shouldn't be doing this, but the blood pumping in her ears drowned it out. She'd gladly suffer the consequences just for this one brief euphoric moment of bliss. The chance may never pass her way again.

~•~

"Fuck." Y/N shielded her eyes. The blinding sun pouring through the window stabbed relentlessly into her brain. 'I'm never drinking that much again.' She flopped back down on the pillow and heard a muffled snore. Y/N slowly turned her head to see George sleeping beside her. 'What -' She lifted the blanket, and her breath caught in her throat.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The kiss. She could only remember the kiss. How did this happen? She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything beyond that kiss. What have we done?

Hangover forgotten, she took in her surroundings. They were in George's dorm. Her eyes immediately darted to Fred and Lee's beds. Empty and obviously not occupied all night. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips.

'There's that, at least.'

Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, landing on the trail of clothes leading from the door to the bed. 'Fuck. Quite literally.'

"Y/N?" George's voice was rough with sleep."Wait, what...?" He noticed her bare back and immediately looked at himself under the covers. "Did we...?"

"I - I think so," Y/N's voice trembled.

"Shit. I, uh, I don't remember anything past-" George began.

"The kiss," Y/N finished.

"Yeah." George replied. "Do you - I'll avert my eyes - if you want to get dressed."

"Um, yeah," she mumbled.

"Ok," George looked away.

Y/N jumped up, searching for her clothes, throwing them on as she went.

"So, uh, I'll just go out now," she fumbled. "So you can get dressed. And then, we should, you know, probably talk." Y/N spared a quick glance at George and then hurried out the door.

~•~

They sat face to face on the sofa in the common room. Confused and scared, George blurted out first thing that popped in his head, that he thought might salvage their endangered friendship. "I was really drunk last night and I had no idea what I was doing. I'm so sorry."

"No idea..." Y/N looked down. "Yeah... same..."

George nodded. "Right, right. So, um, yeah... last night was a mistake. It should've never happened."

"Yes, of course," Y/N kept her eyes downcast. "As you said, a mistake."

"We should just, you know, pretend it never happened," he stammered.

"Pretend. Yeah, just keep pretending. Good idea," Y/N's voice could've frozen the room. "Listen, I'm not feeling so great. You know, hangover and everything. I'm gonna go have a nap."

"Ok. Right. Good plan. So, um... I'll see you at dinner, yeah?" He asked hopefully.

Y/N stopped but didn't turn around. "Sure. Yeah. Dinner."

George watched her ascend the stairs, struggling to keep his heart from exploding into a million pieces and overwhelmed with the horrible feeling that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

~•~

Fred stared at his twin. "Are you fucking kidding me? You told her to forget you had sex? What's wrong with you?"

"I - I don't know," George raked his fingers through his hair. "I just thought it'd be best. I didn't want her to think - "

"That you actually like her?" Fred cut him off. "That you didn't just fuck because you were drunk and horny and it didn't mean anything?"

George shrugged and stared at the floor. "What do I do?"

"Hell, if I know," Fred threw his hands in the air. "I'm not even sure if telling her the truth would do any good now."

~•~

Y/N didn't go down for dinner. How could she even look at George right now, knowing that last night was nothing more than a drunken escapade to him? It didn't matter that neither of them could remember it. They both knew it happened.

And it mattered to her.

She rolled over, covering her head with the blanket. It was over. Their "relationship," their friendship, everything. All she wanted to do now was to just sleep until the jagged edges of her shattered heart healed. Or turned to stone. She didn't care which. She would've welcomed either one happily.

~•~

George knocked on her door.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still no answer.

He opened the door a crack. "Y/N? Are you in here?"

Y/N rolled over and sighed. She should've locked the damn door. Because of course he'd come looking for her when she didn't show up for dinner.

"You ok?" His voice shook. "You didn't come down for dinner."

"Not hungry."

"Oh. Um. Well, would you like some company?"

'Yes, I'd love some company.' She thought. 'I'd love for everything to go back to way it was. But that's not going to happen ever again.'

"No," she said. "I just want to sleep."

"Oh. Right. Of course," George cleared his throat. "I'll stop by and check on you in a bit?"

"No." Y/N sat up but still refused to look at him. "I think we need to spend some time apart."

"Apart?" She heard him move toward her, and she held up her hand.

"Just go, please. I - I can't talk about this right now. I need to sort some things out." She lay back down and covered her head again.

~•~

For a few excruciatingly long moments, he simply stood there, watching her, before she finally heard his shuffling footsteps leave the room. It was only then that she let her tears fall.

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