#nothing quite like it will ever happen again

[themultifanshipper]

Do you think you could do something like this

https://www.tumblr.com/themultifanshipper/759431110157631488/quiet-innocent-reader-x-lando-like-lando-finds

Maybe with Oscar ( love your writing)

If Oscar had to describe your sex life in one word : Vanilla.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that! God knows how much the two of you enjoyed the sex you had. You weren’t very experienced when you met Oscar, and you were quite a shy person.

Which is why Oscar was so shocked when he found what appeared to be a list of your kinks just sitting there when he got up to make his morning coffee.

Fun fact, this request was sent over a month ago, and i only have a couple more to do before i can get to my own stuff lmao

Warnings: innocent reader, Smut, PinV sex, rough sex, dirty talk, mention of lots of kinks n stuff

He hadn’t meant to get a glimpse into the inner workings of your sexual psyche, but really, who leaves something like that on the kitchen counter???

As he read it over and over again, his cock twitched in interest and got progressively harder until he put it down, the words seared onto his brain forever.

He tried to have a cold shower but just ended up jerking off furiously to completion imagining doing all the things from your list.

But as soon as he got out of the shower and dried off, he realized he was still achingly hard. He decided to put on a pair of his loosest joggers and go about his day while he waited for you to come back from work.

It wasn’t easy, but he managed to answer a whole two emails, internally debating the moral implications of communicating with his bosses while sporting an erection.

Then he jerked off again.

It did take the edge off for a bit, but every time he thought about it during the day he couldn’t help but fist his cock at the thought of all your filthy fantasies.

When you got home, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and you did your usual routine: shower, skincare, dinner with a glass of wine, followed by watching something with Oscar, the two of you huddled up together on the couch.

That’s when you started noticing Oscar’s behaviour.

It was very subtle, but you could tell he wasn’t at all focused on the movie, periodically fidgeting around uncharacteristically. Oscar was usually very settled, and tonight it was like he couldn’t keep still for more than 30 seconds. You also noticed his breathing was irregular, often getting shallower as he fidgeted.

Oscar couldn’t care less about what was happening on the screen, his brain was focused on the same thing it had been all day, that damn list.

And he’d been hard all day, which certainly didn’t help his internal crisis.

“Oscar” you sighed, pausing the movie “Talk to me, tell me what’s going on with you tonight”

“Nothing’s wrong, why would there be something wrong?” his mouth said, but his flushed cheeks were proof that he was hiding something.

If looks could kill, the one you gave him would have certainly done the trick.

“I… full honesty?” he asked quietly.

You nodded “Full honesty”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “Okay, but you can’t get mad at me”

You narrowed your eyes at him “That’s not a promise I can make, but I’ll do my best”

He bit his lip before taking your hands in his.

“I uh… I found your list”

You just stared at him. “What list?”

“This one…” he took the piece of paper out of his pocket where it had been burning a metaphorical hole in his hip ever since he’d found it.

He handed it to you, but you didn’t need to unfold it to know what it was. I was a bright pink piece of paper that had been ripped out of your diary the night before.

You completely froze, panic overtaking you.

“Oh my god. Oscar…” You couldn’t look him in the eyes as you tried to explain “you weren’t meant to find that I’m so sorry! I was going to throw it away this morning and I guess I put it down and completely forgot about it. Fuck- please don’t think I’m weird or whatever and just forget about it, okay? Please?”

You put your head in your hands and whined in distress. This couldn’t be happening. Your loving boyfriend had just learned about your depraved fantasies, and he was never going to see you the same way again.

“I can’t forget about it baby, I spent the entire day jerking off about it”

You head snapped up to finally look into his eyes, your jaw hanging in disbelief. You could tell he was dead serious and your gaze slowly trailed downwards towards his pants, where you could tell he was hard, then back up to his face to find him biting his lip so hard it was turning white.

“you-  what?”

“Sweetheart, I got so hard when I read it, I almost got in my car to come and get you from work. I want to do every thing on that list with you” he leaned closer to you and whispered “Every. Single. Thing.”

His arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer to him, lips coming to brush against your neck. “especially number 3…”

You glanced at the list, seeing what he was referring to and gasped.

“Oscar!”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck.

“Who knew you were so dirty, hmm? Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“I- I didn’t know how to ask” you stuttered as he nipped at the skin of your shoulder.

“That right? Well ask me now, then” he said and you frowned in confusion.

“What?”

“Ask me. Go down the list, and ask me to do those things to you…”

His lips trailed down your body and his hands pushed you to lay down on the sofa as you spluttered in confusion. “I don’t- what?”

“What’s the first thing on the list?” he asked, he knew of course, but he needed to hear you say it.

You blushed, checking the list.

“Choking…”

“Then ask me to choke you”

You shuddered as his mouth continued downwards and his hands spread your legs, one of them pushing your flimsy pyjama shorts to the side to expose you to him.

“Oscar what-“

“I want to see how wet you get just from saying it, go on then.” He ordered and you keened as a finger dipped through your barely moist folds.

“I want you… to uhm” your blush deepened and Oscar smiled at you condescendingly.

“Go on baby, you can do it”

You gulped.

“I want you to choke me” you squeezed your eyes shut at the admission, but Oscar was having none of it.

“Now fucking look at me and ask me again”

You gasped and your eyes flew open to look at him.

“I want you to choke me!”

“Good girl” he stroked your thigh “Next thing?”

You glanced at the list still clutched tightly in you hands.

“Spanking.”

Oscar cocked his head to the side. “What about spanking?”

Your jaw clenched, the fucker knew how to get what he wanted.

“I want you to spank me”

He smiled and nodded for you to continue.

“I want you to fuck me over the balcony for everyone to see” you said, and Oscar’s pupils dilated as he used his fingers to spread you open for him.

“Yeah? Want everyone to see how fucking filthy you actually are?” You whined as his thumb came to dip inside you briefly before rubbing it in slow circles over your clit.

“I want you to degrade and praise me…”

He felt like he was barely holding on to his sanity at this point.

“That’s so hot, fuck.” He palmed himself through his sweats “You want to be my good girl yeah? Want to be my good little slut? Only thing you’re good for anyway…”

You whimpered, his words making your whole body heat up, and took a deep breath before continuing.

“I want you to fuck my mouth”

He had to grip himself through his pants to ground himself, your words having an enormous effect on his composure.

Where had his sweet little innocent girlfriend gone?

“I’ll fuck your mouth baby, make you fucking drool for it, god you’d look so pretty taking me down your throat”

You were definitely wet now, and he took the liberty of sliding a finger inside you and hooking it upwards just to watch you squirm as he rubbed that special spot inside you.

“I want you to tie me up and force me to take it” you said breathlessly.

The noise he let out at that was animalistic as his wide eyes found yours and his jaw went slack as he pulled his pants down just enough to get a hand around himself.

“You have no idea how hot you’d look all tied up and helpless under me baby, it’s making me so hard just thinking about it..”

You moaned as he added a second finger inside you.

“I want, fuck- I want you to use me, and fill me up with your cum whenever you want”

“Shit.” He hissed “Fuck baby, I’m going to fill you up so good, you'll see…”

“Please”

You hadn’t realised how close you were getting, but Oscar’s expert fingers were making you delirious as you continued.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk, want to cry from how good you feel inside me, wanna beg for your cock”

Oscar growled and pulled his fingers out.

“Then beg”

He settled over you, putting his weight on you, his dick resting against your folds as he panted into your mouth.

“Beg for my cock, slut”

You were so fucking turned on. Dominant Oscar was something new, but so, so incredibly hot you would have done absolutely anything to have him inside you at that moment.

“Please, please Osc, I need it. I need your cock so bad, please!”

He growled and slid in to the hilt without warning, making you moan into the heated kiss he was currently giving you to distract you. He was thick and the stretch was delicious as his cock dragged along your walls, making you see stars.

He started a deep, hard pace and his hips slapped against yours, obscene sounds filling the room.

“Fuck baby, so fucking wet for me. This what you wanted all along? For me to fucking ruin you on my cock?”

“Yes, Oscar, fuck!”

He chuckled darkly.

“That’s a good girl, so fucking tight, You’re getting close aren’t you? I can sweet your sweet pussy clenching around me, trying to keep me inside...”

He gripped your hips harder and angled his thrusts upwards, nailing your g-spot, and you were a goner. White spots danced in your vision as the pleasure overcame you, cunt spasming around Oscar.

“Perfect, perfect cunt. And it’s all fucking mine” he growled as he finally spilled inside you, filling you to the brim and forcing a pathetic whimper out of you at the new feeling.

Oscar had never come inside you before, and it was insanely hot. The feeling of your slick, hot walls pulsing around him was pure heaven and he couldn’t wait to test everything on that list.

After you’d regained your breath, you chuckled silently to yourself while stroking Oscar's back.

If this is what you got for leaving your list out, maybe you should tell Oscar about your box of toys in the in the back of your closet…

[pedroshotwifey]

Trouble in Paradise (Part One)

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Of all the things you thought you might be doing on your summer break, falling in love with your father's best friend in Hawaii wasn't one of them.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing crazy yet! Some kind of maybe tension, pet names, talk of Joel knowing reader since she was small, reader has a dad, mom is not mentioned, yadayada

A/N: Hello my friends! I'm terribly sorry I've been away for so long. There have been a lot of...unsavory happenings lately. Want to say sorry in advance because I know this isn't my best writing, but i'm trying to get back into the groove of things. I'm hoping I'll be back to my scheduled programming (TTF, FB, answering requests) by the time this short series is done. Expecting it to be around 3-5 parts. Thank you so much for sticking with me <3

*******

You’ve been laying in your bed blasting your “chill” playlist through your earbuds since you got home from school around five. The last exhausting day of your freshman college year. Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Hozier, and the like have been floating lazily through your head as you watched the sun go down. 

After a long day, you’d hung your head off the foot of your bed, intent to bask in the golden glow of the evening in a baggy T and your underwear until your eyes shut for the night. You were almost asleep when you were interrupted by a sound that didn’t quite go with “Wicked Game”. 

You yank your earbuds out, sitting up on your bed. You don’t remember it getting so dark. Your cracked window allows the late summer breeze in to gently rustle the curtains framing it. Crickets and cicadas chirp loudly outside, creating a symphony to compliment the stars shining through the inky sky. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Your head swivels to look accusingly at your closed door. The name was shouted from the stairway. Definitely your dad.

You roll your eyes but get out of bed. The clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 8:02pm, so he’s probably calling you for dinner. You’ve told him before that it’s easier just to call your cell, but when has he ever listened? You pad to your door, crack it, and shout back. 

“Be down in a minute!”

Getting no response, you can only assume he heard you. You close your door back and pick up the polka-dotted pajama pants crumpled into a pile beside your bed. You tug them on through a yawn, almost tripping a few times before they’re on all the way. 

You check your mirror before heading down. You look sleepy, not like it really matters. Your door creeks as you push it open again and make your way down the stairs. The soft carpet laid in the middle of the hardwood keeping your steps quiet. It’s about halfway to the kitchen that you hear a second voice to your father’s. It sounds vaguely familiar, and your heart skips a beat. Surely it’s not—

You climb down a few more steps and stop in your tracks at the sight of Joel Miller sitting at your dinner table. You haven’t seen him since at least your high school graduation. You’d harbored a small crush on him then, but that had to have been nothing compared to whatever the hell you’re feeling now. Your entire body seems to glow with some mix of embarrassment and surprise. 

You really thought you’d gotten over this silly little crush. Then again, it’s hard to get over something like Joel Miller. High school boyfriends? Sure, no problem. But the classic DILF next door of a best friend your dad has isn’t so easy. He’s been a constant in your childhood, always kind and there for you even when your dad wasn’t. So, in other words, highly inappropriate for you to be so attached to. 

It’s easy to say the years have been kind to him. He’s a few years older than your father, so probably about mid-forties now. He’s started to gray, a fine amount of silver peppered into his mousy brown hair. That beard of his has taken the brunt of it, though. That beard you’ve imagined between your thighs so many times. 

His dark eyes seem to have become kinder thanks to the crow’s feet carefully etched into the corners. He’s wearing his signature T-shirt and worn jeans, his brown leather jacket and work boots likely disposed of near the front door. 

He smirks as his brown eyes fall on your disheveled form, halted on the bottom step. You, in contrast to the god-like figure he’s sporting, must look like an absolute mess. Despite that fact, he looks at you almost in a different way than he used to. More intensely. It makes you resist the urge to squirm. 

“Joel,” you finally manage to choke out. “Hi.” 

Smooth, you think. 

“Hey, trouble,” he returns, light amusement lacing his tone. It makes you nervous, like he’s clocked your little secret. 

He gets up from his seat, and you can tell he’s going for a hug. You shock yourself into action and take the few steps to reach him. He envelops you in his strong arms just like he used to, and you take the opportunity to breathe in his scent. Smokey pine, whiskey, and a hint of mint—just like you remember. 

You’re smiling like an idiot despite yourself as you pull away. Luckily, your dad makes an appearance before you say something embarrassing. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “You remember my buddy Joel, dontch’a?” 

Joel scoffs before you can answer. “‘Course she remembers me, Scott, known her since she was damn near in diapers.” 

Your dad rolls his eyes. “Well, just to ask,” he argues. 

You shake your head. Same banter between those two for as long as you can remember. They’ve been friends since your dad’s freshman highschool year, and Joel’s senior. Everyone who knows Joel and Scott considers them to be brothers as much as Joel and Tommy.

Cheeks heated, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up while they’re distracted. You shut the door and comb through your hair with your fingers, straighten your tank top, and wipe away the smudged mascara you didn’t care to wash off earlier. 

When you look half-decent, you wash your hands and walk back to the dining room, choosing to ignore the fact that you just tidied yourself for your dad’s best friend. Totally normal thing to do, right?

Joel is sitting back in the same spot as you found him the first time, your dad in the seat opposite of him. There are three bowls of spaghetti served, one in front of each man, and one beside Joel. You’re not going to complain about that. 

You slide into the seat next to him, flashing him a quick smile when he turns his head to acknowledge you. You swear his gaze lingers for a second, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. 

You look away and dig into your food, zoning out as Joel and your dad talk about work. Joel’s presence beside you fuels your daydreaming, his deep, drawling voice keeping it running. You wish so badly to lean into him, feel the comfort of his embrace. Maybe more. You wish, not for the first time, that he would look at you the way you looked at him. You wish he would—

You jolt when you hear your name in conversation, your spaghetti-filled fork halfway to your mouth. 

“No, I don’t think she’d mind at all, would’ya, honey?” 

Your dad looks expectantly at you. Your eyes dart between him and Joel. 

“Uh, sorry, what?” You ask, your cheeks heating for the second time tonight. 

“Helping Joel out. I know it’s been some years, but it’s just basic stuff. Plus, it’ll be in—” 

“Really, Scott, you don’t have to volunteer her if she don’t want to—” 

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I don’t mind at all.” 

In all honesty, you didn’t think your answer through. You have no idea what you just signed up for. Though, if it’s with Joel, it can’t be too bad. 

“No, really, sweetheart,” Joel interjects. “I wouldn’t wanna have a pretty ‘lil’ thing workin’ away on her summer vacation.”

You turn to look at him, flashing him your sweetest eyes. He called you pretty—you feel like you might explode. “I really don’t mind.” 

He waits for a moment before he clears his throat and turns back to your dad. “Alright then,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “We leave for Hawaii next Tuesday.” 

You just about choke on your dinner. Your dad laughs. 

“Told you, Joel, she doesn’t listen to a damn thing we say.” 

*****

Hawaii? For two weeks? With Joel? What do you even pack?

You stare at your suitcase, waiting for your closet to help you out and throw something in there. Should you bring sundresses or work clothes? Both, right? Probably both. Maybe more work clothes. You said you’d be helping, after all. But with what? 

God, you should have just paid attention to that damn conversation. 

It’s late Monday night, and you haven’t been able to pick up on enough over-the-phone conversation to get the gist of it. You need to stop being such a wuss and just ask. But that would mean calling Joel. Do you really want to call Joel? 

Well, yes, of course you do. But do you really want to sound awkward around Joel? No, no you don’t. And you know that’s exactly what would be happening over the phone with a man you’ve never talked over the phone with. 

You groan, flopping yourself onto your bed to stare at your ceiling and overthink. You don’t want to overpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you overpacked. But you also don’t want to underpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you underpacked, either. This really shouldn’t be that hard. You’re about to get back up, say screw it, and throw a mixture in there, when you hear a knock on your door. 

“Come in,” you call, unmoving.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says as he creeps in. “Just got off the phone with Joel.” 

You sit up at this. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, he figured you might want some advice on what to pack.” 

Oh thank God. 

“Said he’s gonna be puttin’ you to work, but to bring some pretty clothes if you want. There’s a pool at the place you’ll be workin’ at, and a beach nearby.” 

You nod along, thanking all that is holy that Joel had the idea to give you some input. 

Your dad eyes your empty suitcase and raises a brow in your direction. 

“He’ll be here around 4:00am, so be ready by then.” He looks back at you. “I love you, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get back.” 

He gives you a hug and closes your door. 

You take Joel’s advice and pack mostly for work—with a few pretty things just in case. 

*****

As expected, Joel’s truck is in your driveway at 4:00am on the dot. You’re in the passenger seat and headed for the airport by 4:03. 

The ride is less tense than you thought it would be, mostly because the two of you are so tired. You’re practically in a coma against the window, the dull classic country music playing quietly from the old truck’s speakers lulling you to sleep. Joel is in about the same mindset, the lazy drumming of his fingers against the wheel the only thing convincing you he’s still awake. 

Buildings pass in a dark blur, everything mushed together into one big half-dream. Joel’s scent fills the cab, sealing the state you’re in. You glance at the clock: 4:48. You blink, and it’s 5:20, the truck is stopped at the airport, and Joel is gently nudging you awake. You squint at him, the cab light rudely intruding, and you can just barely make out the faint smile on his lips. You have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him, but thankfully you’re conscious enough to not make a complete fool of yourself right now. 

“C’mon, darlin’, we got a plane to catch.” 

You nod, trying to get your bearings. Joel slides out of his side of the truck, and you follow out of yours, getting a good stretch in before leaning back into the cab and retrieving your suitcase from the narrow backseat. When you make your way around the truck to Joel, he gently grabs it from your hand. 

You look at him, mouth open and ready to argue, but he gives you a look that makes you shut it just as quick. Your stomach flutters at the gesture, and you kind of want to slap him for it. Or maybe yourself. Either way, you keep close to him until you’re entering through the sliding doors out front. 

It only takes about an hour to get through TSA and in line to board the plane, but you’re wide awake by then. And hungry. 

“Hey Joel,” you whisper. He hums at you but doesn’t look down. 

“I’m hungry.” 

Now he looks at you. “I don’t think we got time to grab anything now, darlin’, but we should have a layover at LAX in about three hours. Think you can hold tight ‘till then?” 

You nod, trying not to overthink the conversation. It was literally a few words exchanged between the two of you, but it might be the first time you’ve conversed alone outside of your dad’s house. It felt domestic to you in a way that makes you feel like an idiot. It was one conversation. 

Of course, you have to ruin the moment by humming “Party in the USA”. I mean, it’s Joel’s fault. He was the one to mention LAX. 

He laughs and nudges you. “Quit that,” he commands, though you can tell he thinks it’s funny. You giggle but indulge him. 

“Fine,” you draw out. “Somebody hates fun.” 

He scoffs another laugh, but says nothing. 

Finally, the two of you are next to board. You stop around the middle of the plane, and Joel hoists your bags into the compartment above your seats. Then, he moves aside to let you in first. 

“By the window, darlin’,” he says.

You smile with excitement and settle in, Joel sitting next to you a second later. 

“Your dad said somethin’ about it bein’ your first time flyin’, so I figured you might want a window seat,” he explains. 

Your heart warms at this. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say genuinely, flashing him a smile. It may be the lighting, but you swear you see his cheeks pink up just a little before he nods and faces forward. 

The flight goes by relatively quickly. Joel does some sort of paperwork on the little desk in front of him, and you pop your earbuds in and listen to a downloaded playlist while you read. The light romance you chose was cute, but it failed to distract you completely from the hunk of man beside you. 

You’re not sure how many times you caught yourself staring at the flex of his wrist as he wrote whatever down. It was maybe once or twice that your eyes found their way up to his bicep, possibly a few times that they landed on his lower lip, his teeth bitten into it in concentration. You definitely got heated more times than you would’ve liked. And as your book started heating as well, you had to put it down. You really hope it’s not just you that feels this new tension.

For the last twenty minutes or so, you’ve been looking out the window, content to listen to your music and watch the land go by. For the last five, you’ve felt Joel’s eyes on you. You refuse to look back at him, though, just in case it’s your imagination. 

But you swear you can feel the weight of his stare. You fidget, trying to ignore the feeling as you stare out the window and at the clouds. Then you hear a sharp sound from the speakers 

through your earbuds. 

You take them off and look back at Joel as the pilot informs you that you should be landing in about ten minutes. 

He was staring at you, and he didn’t look away. You don’t look away now, either. You don’t say anything.

“Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’.” 

You’re taken aback. Of course you would go with him. 

“It’s no problem, Joel,” you say. He gives you a short smile. “I mean, really,” you joke. “You’re the one taking me on a free vacation.” 

He smiles fully this time and rolls his eyes. He tends to do that a lot with you. It makes you smile too. 

The speaker dings again:

“Should be some light turbulence, but we’ll be on the ground soon, folks.” 

Joel looks away after the announcement, gathering his work to put back into his bag. You shake yourself off and choose not to acknowledge whatever the hell that was. 

******

You knew LAX would be busy, but. Holy shit. This place is insane. 

You keep close to Joel as he navigates the two of you through the crowds and to your next gate. He keeps slightly in front of you, and you keep getting the urge to grab his hand to keep up, but you don’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many people in one place—and you thought the Austin airport had been overwhelming. 

There are a million shops and restaurants and gates as you make your way down the massive hallways, up and down the escalators, and through trains. It takes an hour and fifteen before you can even see the sign for your gate. Your legs hurt from walking, and your head hurts from all the noise. 

You keep an eye on some of the closer restaurants you pass so that you can backtrack to them and grab a bagel or something before you have to get on your plane. You catch a glimpse of a Burger King when you’re suddenly slammed into. 

You gasp as you’re sent flying onto your ass by a man who couldn’t be bothered to glance your way to see if you’re alright. Joel whips around and sets the bags down, quickly helping you up. 

“Shit, are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, a deep concern in his eyes. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment even though it wasn’t your fault. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Joel looks you up and down to make sure as you stand on your own two feet. He turns around, trying to scope out the man who bumped into you, and turns back when he finds that he’s long gone. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he finally says. “People don’t give a rat’s ass here.” 

You nod, smiling at his choice of words. “I’m alright, Joel.” 

He sighs and picks his bag back up, slinging the large weight over his shoulder, and then picks your suitcase up in one hand. WIth the other, he grabs onto yours. His hand is rough but warm and comforting. 

“Just stay close ‘till we get to the gate.”

Practically glowing, you hold onto him and let him lead the way. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s telling you to sit down at the waiting area. 

“I’m gonna grab you somethin’ to eat, ‘nd I’ll be right back.” 

You decide to read while he’s on his errand, picking your book back up to a particularly smutty part. You’re not going to pretend like you aren’t picturing the characters as you and Joel as he eats her out on a countertop. You bite your lip, consuming each word with fervor.

You’re just finishing the chapter when Joel strolls up with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee, and an orange juice. He hands you a sandwich and the latter drink, and takes the seat next to you with a groan. 

“Probably have at least thirty minutes,” he grumbles. 

You nod as you thank him and unwrap your sandwich. It’s silent for a few minutes, before you can’t bear it and break the peace. 

“What all are we going to be doing?” 

Joel looks at you, almost flustered. He must have misheard you. “Huh?” 

“Like when we get there, what are we going to be working on?” 

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee. “Mostly flooring ‘nd some drywall, but there should be somethin’ to do in the kitchen if I’m hearin’ right.” 

You nod and take a bite of your sandwich. Joel continues. 

“Should have a few days to relax, though, if we get everythin’ done in time.” 

Your stomach flips at the thought. A few days to relax with Joel. 

“Sounds easy enough,” you say. 

Joel nods again. “Atta girl.”

“Flight 332 is ready to begin boarding.” 

You and Joel take the last bites of your sandwich in silence and stand up to get in line once again. This flight is going to be longer, about six hours. 

Joel throws your trash away and comes back to grab your bags. Same as last time, you have a seat by the window. Not like it matters much in the long run, because just after Joel takes his seat and the plane takes off, your head falls onto his shoulder, and you promptly fall asleep. 

******

Thank you for reading!! Part two should be coming soon.

Itty bitty mini taglist: @callachloe @kewwrites @casa-boiardi @pastawench (love you guys)

Pls let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt. 2!

[moonstruckmoony]

So a long while ago @lamieboo tagged me in this post (I'm not reblogging bcs it'll be way too long sorry 😢) I made some art and wrote a whole one shot for it because it was the perfect opportunity for a Winter lore I've always wanted to make. Please be kind lol 💀 I haven't written in ages and I'm such a noob when it comes to writing, also English isn't my native language. I had to run my draft through multiple writing tools back and forth to find better phrasings and dictions that better express what I want to convey. Roughly ~1,000 words.

Green and Gold

She stepped forward as the wardrobe creaked open, the boggart slipping through the narrow gap in the door. Long, flowing golden threads emerged first, and Winter drew in a sharp breath.

The rest of the boggart soon took form—a woman in a pale blue dress, slumped weakly on the floor, her calf bleeding from a deep slash. Golden locks framed her worried face, and her piercing blue eyes, so much like Winter’s own, locked onto hers. Winter’s hand instinctively went up to the scar across her left eye. The woman’s chest heaved with silent breaths. The faint murmur of the students lining up behind Winter faded until she could hear nothing. Then, the woman’s lips parted, as if to speak.

“Close your eyes, snowflake.”

Was that truly her mother’s voice? Winter couldn’t remember if boggarts could speak. Could they mimic human voices? Or was it only mouthing the words while the voice echoed from somewhere deep within her mind?

Her hands went clammy. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face. 

She knows what’s coming next. Behind her mother’s beautiful, tear-streaked face, a blinding green light appeared. Winter swiftly squeezed her eyes shut and raised her wand. “Riddikulus,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she kept her eyelids tightly closed.

· · ─────── ·❄ ❅ ❆· ─────── · · Sebastian went pale, even as the swirling Mallowsweet leaves spun into a twister before him, which without question, the most mesmerising form of the Riddikulus charm he had ever seen. It wasn’t a form he would laugh at, unlike most transformations of the charm. It was breathtaking. But no, what had truly gripped him was the green light that followed her mother’s appearance. He had never seen Winter like this—paralysed by fear, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. She was always so composed, so captivating. Full of life, curiosity, and wonder.

He hadn’t realised this was her deepest fear.

And it was the very same curse he had cast just last year. On his uncle. Right in front of her. What had she looked like back then? He couldn’t quite remember. The sound of her laboured breathing lingered faintly in his mind, and he recalled her standing frozen for a moment before following him as he fled the catacombs. But the look on her face—he had no memory of it. Was she shocked? Horrified? Traumatised? He had been too distraught, too consumed by his own turmoil, to notice. Merlin, how must she have felt? Watching her best friend cast the Killing Curse—the very same curse that had taken her mother’s life—right in front of her? His throat went dry. His insides twisted painfully. Clenching his hands into fists, he dug his nails into his palms.

Was this… was this the reason she had refused to learn the spell? Not that he had wanted her to; in fact, he had been relieved when she didn’t. But it left him with questions. She was his kindred spirit, after all, and he knew the Dark Arts intrigued her, even if it was purely out of curiosity and for the sake of knowing. She wanted to learn, and had learned the other two curses. He had thought, perhaps, she would eventually ask about the last one, even though he wasn’t sure if he could bear to teach her—not after what happened to Solomon, to himself.

To Anne. But she was adamant in her refusal to learn it. She had said so out of the blue, when they began speaking again after the catacombs—after weeks of silence between them. Now, he finally understood why. And his heart broke for her. “Sebastian? Sebastian, what just happened?” Ominis’ voice snapped him back to reality. His best friend’s face was filled with concern, surely anxious for not being able to see what’s happening. Just this time, Sebastian is glad he couldn’t. He wouldn’t want Ominis to witness her in such a state. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He tried again, but his gaze drifted to Winter, who was slowly making her way towards them from the front of the line. Another student—Arthur Plummly, perhaps—stepped forward to face the boggart, but Sebastian hardly noticed. His focus was solely on Winter, her head bowed, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her body trembling slightly. “Winter…” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. They stood there for a moment, locked in each other's gaze. “I… I’m sorry.” He finally managed to speak. “What... what are you apologising for?” So much. Even though he’d already apologised to her and Ominis countless times, he hasn’t apologised for this one. “You—you know why.” He knew she understood. They’d always had a way of reading each other, and this was one of those moments. “That’s… It’s not—you shouldn’t…” She trailed off. And Sebastian was thankful she didn’t finish. Because he did feel like he should apologise. Even though hadn’t known about this, what he did that day might’ve stirred up memories she had buried deep down. Just like the cursed boggart had just now. Another silence passed before he slowly pulled her into an embrace. One hand rested on her back, the other gently cradling the back of her head. She froze at first, startled, but after a moment, her body softened into his arms as he tenderly stroked her hair. From his peripheral vision, Sebastian saw Ominis approached hesitantly. His alabaster hand tentatively found Winter’s smaller one, which still hung limply at her side, and she allowed their fingers to entwine. Sebastian could see the questions lingering in his best friend’s furrowed brows, but he’s certain that Winter would talk to him–she would explain everything to them when she’s ready.

He glanced forward, aware of the curious eyes from the students waiting in line—some watching with intrigue, others with quiet sympathy. It was a peculiar view, after all: Winter with her two best friends huddled together in such an unusual position. Up front, he caught sight of Amit ducking as his boggart morphed into harmless paper planes flying about after his successful Riddikulus. Sebastian hadn’t seen Amit’s boggart, but he imagined it was likely something ordinary, like a failing report card marked with a dreaded “T” in Astronomy or History of Magic.

None of that mattered now. The only person of importance was the girl in his arms, her trembling slowly subsiding, her once-laboured breathing easing into a soft, steady rhythm.

· · ─────── ·❄ ❅ ❆· ─────── · ·

[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - part 1

Summary: A reserved woman, craving something different, enters a bar and meets Hank, a confident bartender. As their connection deepens, she steps out of her usual quiet self, embracing a night that changes everything.

Note: This is the first writing I’ve ever posted, but after seeing the set pictures yesterday I had to get something down.

The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. I’m more the type to stay in, read a book, maybe watch a show on TV if I’m feeling adventurous. I keep to myself, blend into the background. It’s comfortable there. Quiet. Predictable.

But tonight felt different.

I couldn’t take another quiet evening alone, another routine night where nothing happened. Work had drained me, like it always did, and my mind felt clogged with the same old thoughts, the same old worries. So instead of heading home like I usually would, I found myself walking in the opposite direction, pulled by something I couldn’t quite explain.

And that’s how I ended up here, in this smoky, dimly lit bar I’d passed a hundred times but never stepped foot into. Paul’s wasn’t exactly my kind of place—it was gritty, loud, filled with regulars who all seemed to know each other. The kind of place where I would normally feel out of place. But tonight, I didn’t care. Tonight, I wanted to be someone else, someone who didn’t fade into the background.

The second I walked in, I felt the weight of the room shift. It wasn’t so much that people noticed me—most were too engrossed in their drinks or conversations—but I felt different. Out of my element. My nerves buzzed under my skin, that familiar urge to turn around and retreat bubbling up inside me. But I stayed.

Then I saw him.

He was behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place. His blonde hair was slightly messy, curling at the base of his neck, with a worn baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. But it was his eyes that caught me—blue, sharp, and piercing, like they could see straight through me.

For a moment, I thought about looking away, but I didn’t. Our eyes met, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, the kind that made my stomach flip. He didn’t say anything, just held my gaze for a beat too long before turning back to his task.

Something inside me stirred—a mix of nerves, curiosity, and something else. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I wasn’t the type to flirt with bartenders or sit alone in a place like this, but tonight, I wanted to see where this could go.

I made my way to the bar, sliding onto a stool and feeling oddly aware of every step, every movement. The bottles gleamed behind him, and the air was thick with smoke, wood, and something musky that I couldn’t place. As I sat down, he glanced up again, and that smile returned, like he was waiting for me to speak.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice low, rough around the edges.

Normally, I’d have some rehearsed response ready, a safe drink order to keep me grounded, but tonight I didn’t want safe. I met his gaze, a small flicker of boldness lighting inside me. “Whatever you recommend.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You trust me to pick for you?”

I nodded, feeling a little more confident now. “Yeah. Surprise me.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief, and reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”

As he poured, I couldn’t help but watch him. He moved with a kind of effortless confidence that made it hard to look away. When he slid the drink across the bar, his fingers brushed mine for just a second, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm.

“Here you go,” he said, leaning against the bar with that same easy grin. “Let me know what you think.”

I took a sip, the alcohol smooth and a little sharp as it hit my tongue. Warmth spread through me, easing the edge of my nerves without clouding my thoughts. I wasn’t drunk—not even close—but I felt braver, more at ease than I had when I first walked in.

“Not bad,” I said, matching his grin with one of my own.

His eyes flicked over me, curious. “Good to know.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything, but the air between us felt charged. I could feel the pull, the chemistry building, and my heart raced in a way I hadn’t expected. Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling for words, but here, with him, it felt different. Maybe I didn’t have to be the quiet, shy girl tonight.

“So, you come here often?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too cliché.

He chuckled, running a hand through his blonde curls as he glanced around the bar. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way.”

Hank. It suited him. Strong, simple, with just the right amount of edge.

“I’m—” I started to introduce myself, but a regular at the end of the bar called out, interrupting us. Hank shot me a quick smile, a promise that our conversation wasn’t over, and turned to grab the man’s drink.

I watched him move, noticing the ease with which he handled the bar. There was something magnetic about him, something that made my pulse quicken. As the night wore on, the bar slowly emptied, but Hank kept returning to me, each time with a little more focus, a little more intensity in his gaze. It felt like we were picking up a conversation that never really paused. It wasn’t about the words—it was about the attention. The way he leaned in slightly, as if nothing else in the room mattered.

Hank returned after serving another customer, resting his hands on the counter. He gave me a crooked smile, a look that made it feel like we’d known each other for longer than just tonight.

“So, what brings you to Paul’s? You don’t exactly blend in with the regulars,” he said, his tone easy, like he was genuinely curious.

I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery. This isn’t my usual kind of place.”

He chuckled, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen where the end credits of a Giants game were rolling. “Yeah, I figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere quieter.”

“Somewhere quieter like… where?”

He thought for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “A café, maybe? Somewhere peaceful. You seem like someone who likes calm.”

I smiled at that. “You’re not wrong. I’m more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”

“Let me guess,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, “you’ve got a favourite corner, always reading, probably scribbling in a notebook. And you drink your coffee black. No sugar.”

I laughed, the sound surprising me with how relaxed I felt. “Close. But I do take a little sugar.”

His smile widened. “Good to know.”

There was a pause, and I could feel the shift between us. A deeper pull, something heavier lingering in the air, making my heart race again. The bar had emptied out now, the noise of earlier replaced by a quiet hum. Hank wiped down the counter, his movements slower, more deliberate.

“You’re doing a good job of stepping out of your usual tonight,” he said after a moment. “Coming to a place like this on your own? That’s not nothing.”

I smiled softly, realising that I did feel different—bolder, freer. “Thanks. It does feel… different. In a good way.”

Hank’s smile deepened, his eyes locking with mine. “Sometimes different is exactly what you need.”

I nodded, feeling a warmth growing in my chest—not just from the alcohol, but from something else, something more. “Yeah, I think so.”

The bar had thinned out, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their last drinks. The soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses filled the space, but it all felt distant now. It was just me and Hank. The rest of the world seemed to fade into the background.

Hank leaned against the bar, his blue eyes still focused on me, and I could feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing. “You seem like someone who’s got it all together. But tonight, you’re here. Why?”

The question caught me off guard, and I paused, glancing down at my nearly empty glass. “I guess I just needed a break from myself for a while. From the routine, the quiet. You ever feel that way?”

Hank’s expression softened, his gaze growing more thoughtful. “More than you’d think. It’s why I work here, I guess. This place… it’s real. People come here to escape, to let go. I get it.”

I met his eyes again, feeling a strange sense of connection, like he understood exactly what I was feeling. “Yeah, that’s what I needed tonight. Something real. Something different.”

Hank pushed off from the bar, moving a little closer, his voice dropping just enough that it felt like a secret between us. “Well, you picked the right place.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that felt loaded with possibility. I could feel my heart pounding, my pulse quickening, and I knew I was standing on the edge of something. Something new. Something unexpected.

Hank’s gaze flicked to the door, then back to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he even said it.

“You wanna get out of here?”

It wasn’t just an invitation—it was a challenge, a leap into the unknown. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “I do.”

The cool night air hit my skin the moment we stepped outside, but it did little to cool the fire that had been building between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.

We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.

He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips moved to my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.

And I wasn’t about to stop.

His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.

I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.

“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.

I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.

He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”

The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.

The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.

But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

Part 2

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

Silent Hearts // [Part III]

Pairing | Cowbell x reader

Word count | 3.1k

⚠️ Warnings | Canon divergence, f!reader, Y/N is used. Should be okay otherwise? Nothing really happens in this one, you just have a chat with Mountain.

Chapter Summary: It's your turn to struggle with complicated feelings. You turn to Mountain to find some closure and understanding, but he opens your eyes to something completely different about this mystery ghoul than you ever could have imagined...

A/N: This one is less intense but gives y'all some more background on Felix. I wonder what will happen when you finally see him again... stay tuned for the next one~ xoxo

[Prev][Next]

Once you got back to your dorm that night, you had a chance to finally process what just happened as you laid out on your bed; the group of Brothers who were hellbent on terrorizing you, the strange ghoul that seemingly came out of nowhere to your rescue. 

Where did those Siblings run off to anyway?

This was all feeling so overwhelming and strange. You had a very limited knowledge of the ghouls and their species in general. You really only talked to Mountain, who was very intimidating at first due to his enormous size, but you two could talk about plants and fauna for hours. Quickly it became apparent he was quite soft spoken and very respectful. He never made any sudden moves and was generally very calm. Nothing like what you had imagined ghouls would be. He taught you a lot about greenery but almost nothing about him or his kind. You never wanted to push either, knowing that the Clergy always said to leave ghouls alone and to stay out of their way. 

They were workhorses and nothing more in the eyes of the Clergy and it made you sick. From your few interactions with Mountain, you knew they were capable of so much more. They were intelligent and emotionally complex creatures who had so much to teach us. They all seemed overall pretty content and happy with their roles though, so who were you to try and understand the intricacies of human/ghoul relations? That was a job for the Liaison Unit.

Those were siblings specifically chosen to help keep the peace between our very different species and for the most part, they do a very good job. The members of the ‘Human-Ghoul Liaison Unit’ know the ghouls very well, they help create rules in the best interest of both parties to keep everyone safe. They also are in charge of educating the new members of the Ministry on our otherworldly counterparts.

You had heard there were talks of a ‘Unified Security Division’ in the works too; a joint-species task force to monitor, protect, and prevent Ministry members from both human and ghoul related incidents. You thought it was a great idea! Humans and ghouls working together as a team, utilizing both of our unique characteristics and skills for the greater good of the Ministry.

Would probably never happen though. That would give the ghouls too much authority, the Clergy would finally have to accept they were a higher life form.

The next morning you walked out to the greenhouse to see if the only ghoul you knew would be able to give you some answers on who you met last night.

You waved hello to a few Sisters on your way down the steps exiting the Ministry. You weren’t really sure how you were going to even start, or what to even say. Did Mountain even know who this ghoul was? He seemed to have been out there a while, maybe they never spoke?

“You seem terribly lost in thought.” Mountain's warm voice came from low beside you.

“Mountain!” You shouted, a hand gripping your chest. “Belial, don’t scare me like that!” You had just about jumped out of your skin, not realizing how detached from reality you were in that moment. Mountain was crouched between rows of tomato vines so it was no wonder you didn’t see him, even if he was gigantic.

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs and stands to his full height. “Anything I can help with?”

You let out a heavy sigh, the thoughts of yesterday returning with a vengeance. “Actually yeah. I hope you can. I came out here to ask you some questions about… ghouls?”

Mountain’s confused expression was noticeable even through his mask, his head tilt said more than words ever could. “Why are you suddenly interested in ghouls?”

You looked down to where your feet squished the well-kept grass. “I’m not! I mean– yes, I am.” You took a breath. “Something happened.”

Mountain gestured to walk with him so he could sit with you and chat properly. There was a large octagonal gazebo just a few feet from where you were standing. He stepped over the row of tomatoes with ease and guided you towards it.

The gazebo was a perfect addition to the garden if you did say so yourself. It was wood but painted black. The hanging candles that lined the outside were brushed silver which must’ve looked picturesque at night. There were 4 steps up to the main platform, lined with an iron railing. The thick pillars each had a weeping angel attached that faced outwards, water droplets from the morning rain made them cry over the flowers below.

Once the two of you got up to the main platform, there was a black deck couch directly in front, decorated with blood red cushions and golden accent pillows. In front of the couch was a rounded glass coffee table with matching chairs on either side. There were lush green plants that sat on either side of the large couch to bring some colour. It was such a nice spot, you didn’t know why you haven’t come out here more. It was peaceful. Exactly what you needed white you talked through your troubled thoughts.

With a soft, gentle hand on your back, Mountain offered for you to take a seat on the couch. You realized the cushions were just as plush as they looked when you eventually sat, taking a moment to just sit and take in the smells of the nature around you.

Mountain stood awkwardly by the other end of the couch with his hands clasped behind his back before you noticed he hadn’t sat down.

“You can sit beside me, I’ll allow it.” You joked and patted the middle cushion.

Mountain simply nodded and took a seat at the opposite end. 

“I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

 It was a full sized couch so there was plenty of room, but of course he was a gentleman. Gentle-ghoul? Whatever you were supposed to say. Mountain was always so polite and considerate.

“Mountain, you are the only ghoul around here that hasn’t made me feel uncomfortable or awkward.” You smiled, knowing that every word you said was completely true.

Being a ghoul of few words he just hummed in understanding and nodded. “So, what did you want to know about ghouls? You… didn’t get hurt by one, did you?”

His eyes flicked to yours, gauging your reaction. He knew that his kind could be a little out of control and unpredictable by nature. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit you were slowly becoming a soft spot for him. So if one of his packmates did anything to harm you…

“Oh! No, nothing like that.” Your hands waved in front of you, trying to brush away any thoughts that you had been hurt. You noticed how Mountain had already begun looking with a slight hint of worry for any injuries he must’ve missed when you had been walking together.

He let out a sigh of relief when he realized that wasn’t the case and unclenched his glamoured hands. “That’s good. Really good.”

A faint look of worry crossed your face as you saw Mountain relax. Were ghouls really so dangerous that they just attack Siblings out of nowhere? Were you safe with Mountain sitting 2 feet away from you on the other end of the couch? Questions started to stir but you forced them down. Mountain has never once made you feel afraid, or that he was capable of anything but kindness. Sometimes, you'd admit, you tended to forget he was a ghoul and not just a Sibling in a mask.

“I was up at the cemetery last night and those Brothers came to bother me again,” you started.

Mountain let out a low, very annoyed grumble. He knew who you were talking about, they had been bothering you for a little while, sometimes even when he was around. They thought they were invincible within the walls of the Ministry, that their faith would protect them from any harm.

“What did they want this time?”

“I’ve never seen them in the cemetery before so I don’t even know how they knew to find me there, but anyways. I was just finishing up placing the last of the tulips - which were very pretty by the way, thank you.” You smiled, remembering how nice they looked at the base of the headstones. The colours were perfect for this time of year.

“I thought you’d enjoy those.” Mountain said softly, returning with his own smile knowing he was already planning which ones to give you next week.

“Anyway, they came up and were a lot more forward than usual. Getting brave I guess,” you recalled, voice lowering as you continued. “I thought they were going to actually try something this time so I warned them, like you said to, but I guess I must’ve closed my eyes because by the time I opened them, they were gone. Just vanished.”

Mountain nodded in intrigue as he followed along, moving to face more towards you as he let you continue.

“Then from over the hill I see this half glamoured ghoul, I think? At first I thought he was you because he was so tall.” You explained, watching Mountain's eyes squint through the mask, trying to imagine who it could’ve been way out there. “He was covered in blood so I offered to clean him up a bit, but he was so strange.”

Mountain's eyes flashed an angry green as he suddenly got a good idea of who you had run into, his expression twisting into a glare as he took a frustrated breath. “This, ghoul. What did he look like, did he say anything to you?”

“He was blind, that I remember for sure. He had white smoke like a mask over his eyes, said he lived in the woods or something? He was kind of off-putting at first if I’m being honest–”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before Mountain let out a very displeased growl. “Don’t go back to the cemetery.”

You were unexpectedly taken aback, eyes wide with shock at Mountain's sudden shift in demeanour. This wasn’t like him, normally he was very soft-spoken.

“What? Why?” You asked nervously. “Mountain, what happened?”

“I don’t want you going back there now he knows your scent.” He said very abruptly, looking around like the two of you were suddenly being watched.

Your breath hitched, Mountain’s anxious body language radiating danger. If one of the largest ghouls in the Abbey was afraid, you were absolutely terrified.

“My scent? What’s going on? Who was that? Who are you so afraid of?” You asked hurriedly, starting to breathe heavy.

“Not afraid.” He said in almost a whisper, turning back to look at you. “Angry. He’s not allowed to come anywhere near members of the Ministry, especially the Siblings.”

“Who is he, Mountain?” You asked sternly, starting to get tired of his cryptic secrets.

“A very, very distant cousin.”

Now it made sense why the strange ghoul was so tall, they were related.

“Felix is your cousin?” You questioned, trying to make sense of it all.

“He told you his name?”

Mountain’s surprise made your brow furrow. “Uh– yeah. Why? Is he not allowed to do that either?”

The earth ghoul shook his head. “No, that was never part of the agreement. Plus ghouls take great pride in their name, they were given to us by the Dark One himself.” Mountain let out a pained yet amused huff. “He’s never told anyone his real name before.”

It was your turn to act surprised. Never? You knew you didn’t know that much about the ghouls but this was beyond what you imagined.

“What does that mean? Is he going to hunt me for sport now? Should I be afraid?” You asked.

Mountain took a breath. “I don’t know, Y/N. I really don’t. All I can say is avoid him at all costs, he’s not a ghoul you want to know.” He looked at you with a serious expression. “He’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” You echoed.

Suddenly the entire night snapped together like a puzzle. The blood, the vanishing Brothers. He had killed them. Why didn’t you realize that before?! You literally helped clean blood off a killer, standing inches away from him.

Your body shook involuntarily as you realized how close you stood to death himself.

“He didn’t seem that bad…” you trailed off in a horrified whisper, your fingers nervously brushing over your drying lips.

“He’s out there for a reason.” Mountain said, his voice slowly returning to his more comforting tone. “Just promise me you won’t go looking for him? If you want to continue going to the cemetery I can’t stop you, but at least bring me along… so I can protect you.” He trailed off quietly at the end, now speaking with a different kind of nervousness.

Unfortunately for Mountain, you hardly paid attention to anything he said. Your mind still reeling with thoughts of Felix. You lowered a hand to your chest, trying to steady your racing heart when you suddenly looked up at Mountain. 

“He couldn’t hear my heartbeat.”

Mountain's head tilted much like his cousins did as he looked at you in confusion. “What do you mean? Not at all?”

You shook your head. “He said it was quiet. Told me that normally he could hear everyones but he couldn’t hear mine.”

Mountain slowly got up to pace around the side of the gazebo, deep in thought. “What else happened?”

You looked at the ground, trying to remember any important details. “He said he was given a choice? To live in the catacombs or the woods, that’s why he was out there. When I told him he was covered in blood he said that was common? I thought he meant because ghouls have to hunt, not because he had just killed three people.”

“He lied.” Mountain said abruptly. “We can eat human food just fine, but he can’t. Ever since he was summoned he was never able to eat anything on the surface, so he started eating like we do in the Pit.”

“Which means?”

“Blood, Y/N. Up here Felix needs blood to survive or he dies.” Mountain stopped pacing and gripped the back of the chair in front of him, his claws peaking through in flickers as his emotions started tearing through his concentration. 

“The Clergy thought it was strange but allowed him to hunt in the forest once a month, he ate raw the rest of the time but never in the dining hall with the rest of us. They had a special room in the kitchen where they threw him slabs of meat like a feral dog.” Mountain hung his head remembering how poorly he was treated. “Normally the longer we’re up here, the less of our demonic nature hangs around, we become “domesticated”, as Copia now likes to say. I guess because he was still hunting, his instincts were kept razor sharp. Deadly.”

You couldn’t help the way your mouth hung open as you took in everything you were hearing. This couldn’t have been the same ghoul that stopped you from falling on your ass when you slipped, or the ghoul that joked and teased. The ghoul that looked like a kicked puppy so starved for affection that he all but begged you to stay.

“I don’t know what his lack of ability to hear your heart means, but it can’t be anything good. He uses it to hunt and track his prey, amongst his other abilities. He’s not like the rest of us, Y/N. He never will be. He’s too far gone.”

“You said he knows my scent now too,” your voice laced with worry.

“Normally that’s not an issue, I got to know yours as soon as we met. It just happens,” Mountain explains. “Ghouls tend to use scent for a lot of things, it’s like a silent language.”

You nodded. “But why can’t he live in the Abbey? You said he did before?”

Mountain tensed once again as he grumbled. “He will have to tell you that, we don’t like to speak of it.”

Sensing that was still a sore topic you dropped it, watching Mountain make his way back over to the couch and sit back down. He rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned in towards you. You could see the intense look in his moss coloured eyes like he was silently pleading with you through the slits in his mask. 

“I’m serious, Y/N. Promise me you wont go back on your own. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You admired how protective he was. It was comforting to know that if anything happened, Mountain would be there. But there was still something clawing at the back of your mind, like a string begging to be unravelled that was pulling you back to Felix.

“I promise.” You smiled.

“Good. Now, what were you thinking for next week’s arrangements? I’ve got some roses just about ready–”

You nodded along mindlessly as you discussed the next batch of flowers, chipping in a few words now and again but you were far, far away. Talking about it only brought you right back, and Mountain failed to notice your 100 yard stare once he got talking about his new batch of hydrangeas.

You couldn’t help but get lost in your memories. The invisible string pulling you right back to him. The way he looked at you, the fanged grin that made your heart skip in excitement and curiosity. Remembering the way his tail felt, pressed against your back as he pulled you closer. You could almost swear you still felt it rubbing gently along your spine, or his breath along your ear whispering, ‘What's the matter, Kitten?’

You shivered at the phantom touches which earned an odd look from Mountain before he continued explaining some different colour combinations for next week. You told yourself it was just your mind playing tricks, he wasn’t really here. You were safe, you were with Mountain. Yet, there was so much about him your soul still craved to understand. A feeling that was so foreign. You felt betrayed by your own mind after everything you learnt. You were supposed to be afraid and never want to leave the safety of the Abbey ever again.

But as much as you wanted to uphold your promise to Mountain, you had those cemetery eyes…

[Next]

[lyinginmeadow]

Shadows will guide you home | Azriel × reader

Summary: Some fae don't like the idea of the Archerons turning into high fae and reader being one in unfamiliar city makes a perfect opportunity for an intervention Warnings: acotar related violence, not super descriptive, language, slight angst Word count: 1.4k a/n: Hii, this is my very first fanfic, please remember to be kind. <3 Also English is not my first language so it may be a bit rough.

Being another Archeron sister was quite exhausting. The constant comparison between you ever since you were born created a dark place deep within you. After years of being poor, starved, and uneducated, the family regained their riches back thanks to Feyre. The cost left you empty, breaking your heart into a million pieces. You wanted your sister back more than anything, you would return your newfound lifestyle to have her with you again. Taking lessons together, sharing laughs, and pretending as if everything is normal. As if she never left and their father hadn't left them to starvation.

Instead, the Gods were laughing in your face as you with two of your sisters were changed and thrown into the world of high fae. While you got your sister back, there were matters to be taken care of. Leaving you alone in a city and with species foreign to you. You had met the inner circle while you were still human. They were nothing but kind to you then, but you assumed that was because you were Feyre's sister. Now they haven't paid you much mind because their hands were either full with court business you didn't understand or your sisters. You were left scarred inside while pretending it hadn't affected you as much.

''Are you listening?'' Asked a pretty blonde in a red dress, Mor. ''I'm sorry, I just spaced out a little. What were you saying?'' You smiled, red creeping up your cheeks. ''You are free to explore the city, you don't have to feel caged inside.'' She returned your smile. ''Oh, I don't feel like that. I...I guess it's kind of strange to be here. Is there an apothecary around here?''

''Yes, it's in the square just next to the bridge you can’t miss it,'' Mor replied. ''I must go, but I will see you during dinnertime.'' She smiled for the last time as she disappeared into thin air. She came by just to invite you as per Feyre's request. Your sister knew you were too polite to decline any offer and without it you would probably not show up.

''Right.'' You mumbled under your breath as you looked out of the window. In the reflection, you caught the sigh of a shadow. You whipped around to see nothing. Signing, you turned to the window again thinking about certain Illyrian familiar with shadows. When you first met him, he was like a rock that you could lean onto while the queens invaded your home. You talked, feeling an instant connection and thought he felt the same. You didn't remember what happened during the changing process, your brain blocked the memory altogether. But after waking up in Velaris, he didn't seem to notice you, rather seeking the company of your older twin sister.

You knew it wasn't rational to feel hurt by this, but that didn't stop your heart from throbbing. Exhaling a deep breath you went to explore the city as Mor suggested, feeling sick of your little pity party.

After hours spent in the city, it was starting to get dark. Nights here were magical, but your fear of them only amplified during years spent in the dark streets trying to provide for your family by any means necessary, so you tried to hurry back to the house. Taking a turn into an ally wasn't a choice you wanted to make, but panic started to take over every action your body made. Looking around you knew you were lost and didn't know where to go next.

''Looking for something?'' You whipped around with shock in your eyes. ''No, but thank you. My partner is just around the corner.'' You smiled politely your instincts kicking in as you lied smoothly. A shadow caressed your skin as if to soothe your worries and disappeared. You didn't have time to think about it more as the man standing in front of you stepped closer. ''Are you sure? We could help you, Y/N.'' Another dark figure from behind you said so near you could feel his breath on your neck. ''I don't know who you think I am, but that is not my name. And I do not need help from strangers. So let me pass.'' You tried to will your voice not to tremble, but it was of no use. You were starting to give in to the panic rising within you. ''And we don't need humans becoming high fae and highjacking our court. But here you are.'' Said a male in front of you while pulling out a knife. “This will send the message." Continued another one next to what you pressumed was the leader. One againts three were not the odds you prefered.

You had no idea how they found out your name or how they knew of your fate of becoming fae. "Feeling threatened by a female?" You knew getting a rise out of them was not the smartest idea. But maybe it could gain you valuable time for someone, anyone to notice. Velaris was supposed to be peaceful after all.

"You think you're funny, huh? We'll see if you'll find the knife just as entertaining." The male behind you pulled your hair harshly earning a scream from you. You didn't understand how they could blame you for something you had no control over. “Watch the alley, will you?” The male infront of you ordered the one standing next to him as he lifted his hand to your face. The knife danced lightly on your cheek leaving you defenseless. "Just so you know, maiming your face will be a pleasure." He whispered to your ear as he increased the pressure on the knife drawing blood.

The whole alley turned pitch black. You had fae senses, but the dark was completely impenetrable yet familiar. You could only feel your hair being released, knife falling to the pavement, followed by screams and scratches on the stone. You were paralyzed, terrified, and unable to move. The dark had you in its claws and you could feel your breath getting more and more quick. ''How dare you hurt her ?'' A deep familiar voice took you out of your panic. There was no answer to his question. Only whimpers.

The shadows slowly dissolved letting in light from the main streets. There was no one here anymore. Only blood and scratches deep in the stone indicated a struggle.

Azriel appeared in front of you his hands gently grazing your untouched cheek. ''Don't look at it.'' His voice hoarse. You inhaled his scent making you instantly relaxed. ''Are you hurt?'' He asked worry lacing his voice. You gave him a shake of a head not trusting your voice. ''Lies. Shaken. Blood.'' Hissed hushed voice, startling you. ''I am not lying. I am just fine.'' You pushed Azriel away looking around for the source. ''You can hear them?'' Azriel frowned examining you.

''Look, I am sorry you had to bother with this. I know there are a lot of things to be done and I should have known how to protect myself-'' He stopped you from rambling with a thumb to your lips. His previous question forgotten. ''No one has a right to assault you. It is not your fault. Velaris is supposed to be safe. I promise that no one will harm you ever again.'' He left you completely stunned. ''Now, could you please show me where they hurt you, so we can heal it?'' Azriel asked slowly removing his thumb from your lips. Leaving you wishing it could stay there for a bit longer. You pushed back the hair that was covering your healing cheek. ''It's already healing. My abilities do come with very fast healing. As long as I don't use my powers much. I am just a bit shocked, that's all.'' You admitted looking to the stone path. ''Let's get you home then." He offered his hand which you gladly took your heart threatening to jump out of your chest.

''Look, Nesta started training with Cass and a few priestesses joined her. It is a way for them to regain their power and help them with their struggles. I was thinking that maybe it could be something you would give a try?'' Azriel asked as he led you through the house to your bedroom. ''Oh...I think I would like that.'' You smiled. Silence enveloping you again.

''Thank you, Az. For today and the offer.'' You looked down standing infront of the door to your bedroom. ''There is no need to thank me. But you should get some sleep.'' He looked at your door and then down the hallway. ''I will be right next to your room if you need anything. So please, let me know.'' He gave you a look of urgency and you gave him a nod even if you knew you would not. He probably knew it, too. ''Goodnight.''

"Goodnight."

[devintrinidad]

We finally reached 4989 views guys!!! :D

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

The compelling thing about Jason as a character is that I never doubted that he cared about the world just because there weren’t panels of him being overly zealous about “restorative community care”

I’m not coming after anyone who wants to see that kind of stuff, but I do think seeking | that | as confirmation that Jason cares about the world is pretty narrow

[batsplat]

I keep seeing people say Agostini likes Marc and I think you had post which included what Agostini thinks about the rosquez situation.

I was wondering if you knew if they have actually interacted or how this fondness started. And if it's continued.

Apologies if you've already made a post about this and i missed it 😊

And thank you for all the responses to my prev asks!!! You are like my favourite grandparent i sidle up to and ask to reveal some new thing of the MotoGP world. Which you do so patiently 💛. ( I'm sorry for the grandparent comparison i couldn't find a better one 😔😔😔😔😔).

ahaha that's super sweet. and honestly, I don't think there's really a story here, beyond 'ago quite likes him'! they did a joint interview of sorts at the laureus awards in 2015 which is worth a watch - which came after that 2014 season in which a big talking point was how it looked like marc might be able to match ago's numbers in 'winning everything'... also you have that presser clip from 2013 where the riders are asked ago or hailwood, and marc says "if everybody say ago, ago" and laughs, which. I mean. I'm sure respected ago just fine but it's probably worth pointing out he's not exactly an enthusiast, is he

but yeah, beyond wading into a couple of marc controversies, ago's definitely spoken warmly about him quite frequently over the years. as early as 2014, he was saying that if marc matched his records, he deserved to do so - and in 2020, he said marc didn't need to switch bikes to prove his greatness. he compared marc to one of his own big rivals, hailwood, in 2019, he spoke with sympathy about marc's switch to ducati at the back end of last year and sounded confident marc could win again (+ here), and made similar comments early this year and likewise was fairly encouraging in may. in 2023, he also spoke about marc's capacity to put on a show. plus, he also said in 2018 that marc and valentino's relationship doesn't matter as long as "they both make us have fun and give us a show", and also that "they do not have to marry". giacomo agostini homophobic dog question mark

a lot of it just seems kinda generic 'legend of the past being nice about the new kid', like say doohan was with valentino but without the mentorship angle. but yeah, ago does seem fonder of marc than he does of marc's contemporaries? with valentino, let's be honest, part of it is that he was the first to really show up and challenge some of ago's records (even steal some of them like premier class wins) - plus he's italian so there's really more direct competition than there is with marc. but y'know, obviously ago's been asked about both of them gunning for his records (generally win number for valentino and title number for marc)

you can read tonal differences into those answers if you so choose, but you can also say he's expressing roughly the same sentiment for both (if you so choose). ago did also joke in early 2020 that he'd beat them both:

(again, this is obviously a joke and I'm not going to read anything into it lol, just thought I'd include it)

ago does have retired athlete talking head syndrome where he does... y'know, have a lot of opinions and has shared quite a lot of those opinions. which... okay, I'm aware this isn't really what this ask was about, but. look. I just have to bring in jorge lorenzo at this point. this is only tenuously relevant, but I think it kinda provides a fun contrast with how utterly drama-free the dynamic between marc and ago is... AND gives some much needed context for how ago was relating to some other star riders of this century

ago and jorge had always gotten on pretty well - and ago joked back in the day that jorge had to stop valentino from getting too many more wins. it is probably worth mentioning that in that 2013 clip I linked to above, all the riders at the presser were asked the 'ago or hailwood' question. in response, jorge, that old simp, essentially went 'actually the goat is valentino'... but that's really isn't about ago as much as it is about jorge's relationship with valentino being *gestures vaguely* complicated. weird. complicated. anyway, look, ago and jorge got on well, had done so for years. then, in may of 2020, shortly after jorge's retirement and with no racing whatsoever going on during lockdown, the two of them got into a PUBLIC SPAT!! (low key between this and the dovi feud picking up again at the end of the year, jorge was really working overtime to make motogp less depressing that year)

the argument was prompted by ago's comments about jorge's time with ducati and honda:

so basically he's saying jorge was mid for three years because his head wasn't in it. which is... a debatable assessment of jorge's 2017-19, but let's just run with it. now jorge obviously isn't the type to just let this kind of thing go unchallenged, so he hit back:

for some reason. jorge's father also got involved, as he has an unfortunate tendency of doing:

(I'm gonna be so real, personally I wouldn't be particularly flattered if one of my parents suggested I could challenge one of my main career rivals 'on my day'. but anyways)

and then mr agostini in turn doubled down and told jorge that 'the truth hurts':

note the bit about how ago had sided with jorge against valentino! it is broadly true that ago has often been very complimentary of jorge, including to the detriment of valentino - and apparently that might have created tension with valentino's team. ago also added the following bit and it's kinda even more brutal:

so basically - ducati didn't pay jorge that much to win three races. funnily enough. jorge did not take kindly to these comments... and then he hit back on instagram (all of this is still in may 2020 btw, literally the only thing we had going for us). here's the text from the post:

jorge lorenzo a proud fellow warrior in the 'it's useless to compare different eras' campaign, saluting a real one

so, after jorge had said that ago doesn't know what he's talking about, that this kind of criticism was 'improper' from a legend like ago... we'd actually finally gotten to the point where ago wanted to clamp down on the controversy. here's what he had to say:

he doesn't want controversy! it's not his fault jorge didn't win! jorge didn't win a title with either ducati or honda! what a shame!

okay, there is arguably a slight difference in rhetoric between saying 'well I can't say he won at honda when he factually didn't!!!' and 'ducati paid him a lot and got nothing out of it' - BUT obviously this was still a bit of an olive branch from ago. unfortunately, we've gotten no updates on whether ago did ever reach out privately, but we did get jorge's response. and jorge... kinda accepts the peace...? but also not really!

so to paraphrase jorge here, he's basically going 'sure fine I'll accept the peace but I also know ago will start the same shit again when he has a microphone in front of him!!' - and also makes it clear that jorge will not shut up about ago chatting shit, unlike those other cowards who just let ago get away with it (including other champions). jorge then goes on to talk about their personal relationship and ago's past support of him:

and then jorge goes on to stridently defend his time with the ducati project - pointing out that, without detracting from what casey had done, it was a very good bike back when casey won the 2007 title:

(yes, obviously there is a rider who was doing rather a lot more with that bike during the same time span as jorge was there - who you'll note jorge very much does not name. I suppose jorge's argument would be that this particular rider had been with the team since 2013. without getting too much into 2017-18 discourse in a post that really isn't about that, it is broadly true jorge just Was Not Clicking with that bike for way too long, but he was running dovi pretty close in 2018 until he got injured at aragon. which is also because dovi was having a pretty ragged first half of the season himself but y'know, six of one half a dozen of the other. also low key those three jorge wins did get during his time at ducati massively flatter how that stretch of his career gets perceived a few years later, but again. this isn't all too relevant. just some historical context!)

and jorge rounds up the whole thing by demanding an actual apology:

and, lastly, here's what ago said in june:

anyway, that's basically it as the public spat went, but it did still give us some nice little gems. you'll note that jorge believes ago was supporting him against valentino - "what I know is that in the duel I had with rossi he wanted me to win races more, for the titles and all that". and then, of course, there's the fun bit where jorge says that ago has also said inaccurate things about valentino before: "because he has also said things about valentino many times that did not correspond to reality". jorge going full 'enemy of my enemy' about valentino on this issue is just extremely him, not least because that is a rivalry where, according to him!! ago basically always was rooting for jorge! and YET jorge's like 'valentino may not speak up on this issue but I!! will!!' I honestly have no clue if there's anything specific jorge's referring to here that ago is getting wrong about valentino... but again ago does have retired athlete talking head syndrome so really it could be anything

what this does do is give us a little bit of confirmation that ago probably isn't the world's biggest valentino rossi fan (obviously, valentino wouldn't let you know that kind of thing so it's great when you've got someone a little more talkative like jorge around). jorge didn't have to bring in valentino here - he did so of his own volition, because he apparently disagreed quite strongly with something ago had said about one of jorge's fiercest rivals. by contrast, there's nothing comparable you can point to with marc... which, given that we've established ago has run his mouth about past champions, would lead you to the conclusion that ago really is a bit of a marc fan. all things considered, ago seems genuinely fond of the little guy! he's never really talked him down, or taken another rider's side against marc! why? ... unfortunately, I have no clue. maybe it is linked to ago's feelings towards valentino, maybe it's completely unrelated and he just likes marc a lot, maybe he's a fan of him as a rider or his personality or something else. there's not really anything to suggest they're particularly close - for instance, I don't think marc has had dinner with ago's family like jorge has - but he generally always seems happy to offer up a lot of marc prop without any qualifications. it just seems like quite an uncomplicated relationship, and given ago's been fairly vocal within the past year about marc's switch to ducati, about how he could win again etc etc... he's perhaps quite enjoyed following that story. mostly, there's clearly just a lot of mutual respect there... and if ago did ever find cause to criticise marc as strongly as he did jorge, well, it's a lot less likely marc would decide to clap back on instagram. that'll help, I suppose

[aeolianblues]

was kinda thinking about this when I saw Renee Rapp live recently-- I didn't know her visual vibe, I'd heard a few songs here and there but I hadn't really *seen* her, and her attire at Osheaga was really casual, a jersey (baseball/basketball?) and slacks. And that was so amazing! I couldn't help thinking, the work Billie Eilish has done for how women in pop music are allowed to dress is incredible. Seeing her up there all comfortable you just know that Billie walked in her oversized tops so that Renee in her slacks could run; Billie walked through all the critcisms about how she dressed slobbily and having to assert that she didn't owe anyone a display of skin, so that Renee could be comfortable and unquestioned running up and down the catwalk in front of 10,000 people. How iconic.

And I don't think we even realised at the time how much something as simple as letting Billie dress the way she as a (then-) 17-year-old teenager dressed, could end up meaning for a future generation of women in music.

Obviously there is still way to go, there were weirdos complaining about how 'plain' Dua Lipa's Glastonbury outfit was this year (in 2024!!), l have to ask, are you at Paris Fashion Week?? She is the musical HEADLINER of an entire day of music at one of the biggest music festivals in the world, and you can't grant her the space to exist as an artist, you have to moan about her dress not being excitingly revealing enough. There's work to do, it's still dismal out there. But the space Billie Eilish has created for a most ordinarily-dressed woman popstar is still heartening.

[weareuniqueandimportant]

EMPATHY GLAMORIZATION IS NOT ABOUT EMPATHY BUT SUPERIORITY TORWARDS APATHETIC PEOPLE BIGOTRY TORWARDS THEM TYPICAL BIGOT EVIL. SIMPLE AS THAT. IF YOU SEE THEM AS LEFTIST YOU'RE NO LEFTIST YOURSELF. HORRIBLE. THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO HAVE ONLY EMPATHY AND BAD TO THINK EVERYTHING YOU DO IS SUCH ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY BEING APATHETIC IF ANYTHING WHEN THEY DO THIS...

COMES TO SHOW BIGOTRY TORWARDS CRAZY AND DISABLED PEOPLE ASWELL AS PARAPHILIA PEOPLE ISN'T TAKEN AT ALL THE SAME AS SEXISM RACISM AND QUEERPHOBIA... OR PERHAPS... LIKELY... THEY ARE ALL THE BIGOTED THINGS EVIL AND TAKE NONE THAT SERIOUSLY... BELITTLING DOWN THEIR PAIN AND DAMAGE...

[talkorsomething]

I have Got to get more transgender

[wild-at-mind]

Not to talk about MRA-lite spaces again but I'm going to need everyone to understand that in these spaces, the subtext of 'men don't get to talk about their problems' is ALWAYS 'and it is women's fault!'

[theflyingfeeling]

...💇‍♀️

[halfyearsqueen]

rhaenyra’s notion of freedom is basically ? the idea she isn’t wholly stuck in place, that she’s not trapped, and that she can leave whenever she wants to, that her destiny isn’t wholly fixed .

[tired-twili]

Venting bcs what is social lifes man