#please more people talk about them please please please

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[lemonsdietcoke]

“Carrion” - Player 230

Dark!Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

Warnings: This fic contains themes of drug abuse, toxic relationships, emotional and physical abuse, violence, NON CON sexual content, trauma, and self-destruction. It’s a dark, heavy read with little to no comfort. Please proceed with caution.

Summary: “My feel for you, boy, is decaying in front of me Like the carrion of a murdered prey” You thought you could save him. But Su-bong was never looking to be saved — he was always chasing something…darker. based on Carrion-Fiona apple

MINORS DNI!

A/n: so I spent all night writing this and let me just say this is a wild ride. I don’t know what came over me lol but grab your tissue and a snack and lmk if y’all fw it. Also this is set before the games.

…..

You thought you could handle it.

That’s what you told yourself in the beginning.

When you met Su-bong, he was magnetic. The kind of person who could walk into a room and command everyone’s attention without even trying. He was funny, reckless, charming in that careless way that makes people think he doesn’t care what anyone thinks — but secretly, you know he cares more than anyone.

You met him through Ji-hye, a mutual friend. You two were out drinking at a shitty bar in Itaewon, the kind with sticky floors and flickering neon signs, when she waved him over to your table.

“Su-bong! Over here!”

He turned, cigarette dangling from his lips, and when his eyes landed on you, you swore you stopped breathing.

He made you feel special.

That was the thing about him. From the moment he sat down, all his attention was on you.

You didn’t even notice the red flags at first — the way his hands shook slightly when he lit another cigarette, the faint twitch in his jaw when he reached for his drink. You were too busy drowning in his attention, his laughter, the way he leaned in close when he talked, like he couldn’t bear to be too far away from you.

He made you feel seen.

Later that night, when Ji-hye pulled you aside and whispered, “He’s trouble, you know,” you just laughed it off.

“I can handle trouble,” you said.

And at the time, you believed it.

The first few weeks were a whirlwind.

Late-night phone calls, long walks through the city, kisses stolen under flickering streetlights. He was softer back then. He’d show up at your door with a crooked smile and a bottle of soju, leaning against the doorframe like he belonged there.

He told you stories about his childhood, about how he hated his hometown, how he moved to Seoul to start over.

“I want more than that small-town life,” he’d say. “I want everything.”

You loved that about him.

His ambition. His hunger.

It wasn’t until later that you realized he wasn’t just hungry for success.

You thought he only did it on weekends.

That’s what you told yourself at first. It’s just recreational. Everyone does it once in a while, right? It’s not a big deal.

But when you took a closer look, you started noticing things.

The way he always had an excuse to disappear.

The way his hands shook in the mornings.

The way his pupils stayed blown wide, even in the middle of the day.

It wasn’t just weekends.

It wasn’t just recreational.

The first time you confronted him about it, he laughed.

“What? This?” he said, pulling out a small bag of powder from his jacket pocket. “It’s nothing.”

You stared at him, heart pounding, unsure whether you were angry or scared or both. “You said you were going to stop.”

He shrugged, already pulling out a cigarette. “I will. It’s just… it helps me focus.”

You hated how calm he sounded. How casual.

But you let it go.

Because you wanted to believe him.

Because you loved him.

That’s how it started.

With small compromises.

You told yourself it wasn’t that bad.

You told yourself you could manage it.

You told yourself he would change.

But he didn’t.

The cracks started to show slowly, like hairline fractures in glass. You didn’t notice them right away. Or maybe you did, but you ignored them. You told yourself it was fine, because you wanted it to be fine.

You wanted him to be the man he was when you first met.

The man who made you laugh until your ribs ached.

The man who kissed you like he couldn’t get enough.

The man who whispered, “You’re the only one who really understands me.”

You didn’t want to see the other side of him.

The side that disappeared for days at a time.

The side that came back high, twitchy, eyes glassy and distant.

The side that couldn’t stop.

You loved him.

But it wasn’t enough.

The first time he really scared you was on a rainy night in November.

He showed up at your apartment soaked to the bone, trembling, eyes wild.

“Let me in,” he said, voice low and frantic. “Please.”

You didn’t hesitate. You unlocked the door, pulling him inside, wrapping a towel around his shoulders as he slumped onto your couch. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

You knelt in front of him, brushing his wet hair out of his face. “What happened?”

He didn’t answer.

He just reached for you, pulling you into his lap, burying his face in your neck.

“I just need you,” he whispered. “I just need this.”

And you let him.

Because you loved him.

Because you thought you could save him.

But you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door slams open at 2:48 AM.

You know the time because you’ve been staring at the clock for the past four hours, watching the minutes crawl by, waiting for him to come home.

The waiting is always the worst part. The silence. The dread. The way your stomach twists tighter with each passing hour, until it feels like you’re going to snap in half from the tension.

He’s late.

Later than usual.

And when the door finally swings open, you know something��s wrong.

He stumbles inside, slamming the door shut behind him with more force than necessary. His hand lingers on the handle for a moment, like he needs the support to stay upright.

He doesn’t look at you right away.

His head is down, his shoulders tense. His breathing is ragged, too loud in the quiet apartment.

You stay where you are, curled up on the couch, watching him with a knot of unease tightening in your chest. You’re already bracing yourself.

This isn’t Su-bong coming home drunk from a night out.

This is worse.

He takes a few unsteady steps forward, his movements jerky and disjointed, before slumping against the wall. His head tilts back, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

You can see the tremor in his hands.

The sweat clinging to his neck.

The way his pupils are blown wide.

“Su-bong?”

Your voice is soft, careful. Testing the waters.

He doesn’t answer.

He just tilts his head to the side, blinking slowly, like he’s trying to focus on you but can’t quite manage it. His lips twitch into a lazy, lopsided grin.

“Hey, baby.”

And that’s when you know for sure.

He’s high.

Not just drunk.

High as hell on something stronger.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

The question comes out sharper than you intended. You hate the way your voice shakes, the way your hands clench into fists at your sides.

He doesn’t answer.

He just pushes off the wall, staggering toward you with that same careless grin.

“Miss me?”

You want to slap him.

You want to scream.

Instead, you cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep yourself together.

“What the fuck are you on?”

He laughs.

Soft. Slurred. Distant.

“What’s it matter?”

“It matters.” Your voice is rising now, cracking under the weight of your frustration. “Look at yourself. You can barely stand.”

He shrugs, grabbing the back of the couch for support. His fingers twitch against the fabric.

“I’m fine. We’re fine…”

“You’re not fine.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with tension. He just stares at you, that stupid grin still plastered on his face.

And then, slowly, he starts to sway.

His knees buckle.

“Su-bong—”

Before you can reach him, he collapses onto the floor.

For a long moment, you just stand there, staring down at him.

He’s out cold. His head is tilted to the side, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. His hair falls into his eyes, damp with sweat.

You should help him.

You should shake him awake, drag him to bed, clean him up.

But you don’t move.

Because you’re tired.

So fucking tired.

Instead, you start searching.

You move on instinct, heading straight for his jacket. Your hands are shaking, your chest tight, but you can’t stop.

You dig through the pockets, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, a lighter, loose change. And then —

A bag of powder.

Fuck.

Your stomach twists, but you keep going. You can’t stop now.

You move to his bag next, unzipping it with trembling fingers. More powder. Pills, tucked into a side pocket. A tiny syringe, wrapped in tissue.

It’s worse than you thought.

So much worse.

You finally check the place you know he most definitely has drugs. That damn cross necklace. He wears it everywhere, everyday, all the time. Even when he’s sleeping. Even when your fucking.

The only exception being when he showers.

Your heart began to beat out of your chest as if you had just completely a six mile run. Staring at his passed out form on the cheap carpet of your shared apartment.

What if he woke up and caught you.

You tip toed up to him, the floors betraying you as it creaked with every step.

You took a deep breath unintentionally holding your breath as your shaky hands toyed with his chunky necklace struggling to open it.

He didn’t move though.

In fact the only thing moving on him was his chest falling up and down as he fell deeper into sleep.

But you continue to toy with the necklace until it eventually popped open unevenly, causing colorful pills to fly every which way, and click across the floor.

Fuck.

Why does everything have to be so loud right now?!

You got on your hands a knees scooping up the candy colored pills and probably some dirt with them. Before quickly dropping them into your pocket as Su-Bong lied still on the floor.

Your chest heaves as you gather everything up, cradling it in your hands like you’re carrying a corpse.

You don’t think.

You just move.

The bathroom light flickers on.

The toilet lid creaks as you lift it.

And one by one, you throw everything in.

The powder.

The pills.

The syringe.

Every. fucking. thing.

The water ripples, murky and disgusting, but you don’t hesitate. You flush it all away.

Like it never existed.

When it’s done, you stand there for a long time, staring down at the empty toilet bowl.

Your reflection stares back at you from the water.

Red-rimmed eyes.

Trembling hands.

A stranger.

You press your palms to the sink, breathing hard. Your chest feels tight, your throat raw.

What are you even doing?

But you know the answer.

You’re trying to save him.

Even though he doesn’t want to be saved.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You hear him before you see him.

The sharp bang of a drawer slamming shut.

Then another.

And another.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The noise is jarring — too loud in the early morning quiet, rattling through the apartment like gunshots.

For a moment, you just lie there in bed, heart pounding, staring up at the ceiling. The air feels too thick. Your throat is tight. You already know what he’s doing.

He’s looking for them.

Fuck.

You sit up slowly, moving on instinct. Your bare feet hit the floor, and the cold bites at your skin. You don’t bother with a sweater. You barely notice the chill.

All you can hear is the sound of drawers being ripped open, items clattering to the floor, Su-bong’s frustrated muttering.

You step into the hallway, moving toward the living room like you’re walking into a minefield. Every step feels heavier than the last, each breath dragging in your lungs.

The apartment is a fucking mess. Drawers pulled out their hinges. Glass shattered on the floor. your shared belongings scattered across the floor such as, mail, silver wear, books, wires and more. He even emptied his fucking ashtray on the carpet staining it with dark powdery ashes creating a fucking smudge. Who the fuck hides drugs in an ashtray?!

When you see him, your stomach drops.

He’s on his knees in front of the dresser, tearing through the drawers like a man possessed. His hair is sticking up in every direction, sweat clinging to his neck and temples. His shoulders are tense, his hands trembling as he yanks out clothes, papers, random shit — anything that might be hiding what he’s looking for.

You watch in silence for a long moment, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

This is worse than you expected.

He’s worse than you expected.

“Su-bong?”

Your voice comes out softer than you intended — a whisper, almost cautious.

He doesn’t look up.

He doesn’t stop.

He just slams another drawer shut, cursing under his breath.

“Where the fuck are they?” he mutters. His voice is low, rough — shaking with barely-contained rage. “Where the fuck are they?”

Your stomach twists.

You take a shaky breath.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

This time, he freezes.

Just for a second.

Then, slowly, he turns to look at you.

His eyes are dark, bloodshot. His pupils are blown wide, so black they almost swallow the brown. His lips are cracked, the corners pulled down in a sneer.

And in that moment, you feel it —

The fear.

The dread.

You’ve never seen him like this before.

“You know what,” he says, voice low and venomous. “Where the fuck are they?”

Your mind races.

Your palms start to sweat.

Think. Think. Think.

You can feel the anger radiating off of him — simmering just under the surface, threatening to boil over. And you know what happens when he reaches his limit.

You’ve seen it before.

The broken bottles.

The slammed doors.

The bruises on his knuckles after a night out, when he came back bloodied and laughing, saying, ‘You should see the other guy.’

You swallow hard. Your throat feels raw.

“I don’t know,” you say quickly, shaking your head. “Maybe you left it at the club. Or with Ji-hye. You’ve been out all night—”

“Bullshit.”

He stands up slowly, wiping his hands on his jeans as he takes a step toward you.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

Your back hits the wall.

Fuck.

“I’m not lying.” Your voice cracks, and you hate yourself for it. “I don’t even know what you’re looking for.”

He doesn’t believe you.

You can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, itching to grab something — to throw something.

You think about the last time you saw him like this.

The broken lamp. The smashed picture frame. The bruise on your wrist that took a week to fade.

“I’m serious, Su-bong.” Your voice is shaky now, pleading. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He tears through the dresser again, frantic.

Each drawer pulled out with a sharp crack, each item tossed aside without care.

Your heart pounds.

Your breath comes faster.

And then, the drawer slams shut.

He turns to you again, and you can see it — the realization sinking in.

You.

It had to be you.

It was the only logical answer. Though he was thinking far from logically right now.

“You fucking took them.”

It’s not a question.

It’s a statement.

A terrifying sentence.

You don’t say anything.

You can’t.

But the way you flinch — the way your body stiffens, your lips press together — it’s enough.

He explodes.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He grabs the nearest object — a book, heavy and solid — and hurls it across the room. It hits the wall with a loud thud, just inches from your head.

You gasp, pressing yourself tighter against the wall.

“You hid them?” His voice is rising now, loud and furious, filling the apartment, making the walls shake. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You need help!” The words burst out of you before you can stop them. “You’re killing yourself, Su-bong! I’m trying to help you!”

He laughs.

A sharp, bitter sound.

“Help me? You think this is helping me?”

“Yes! Because I love you, and I can’t fucking watch you do this to yourself anymore!”

“Where are they?” He spits out through his teeth anger radiating off of him as he stared at you through narrowed fiery eyes. His hand slightly raised. Almost like threat. “Where the fuck are they?!”

That was all he had to say? Really?

You’re crying now — sobbing, desperate, the words tumbling out like a flood. “I threw it all out. I flushed everything. I couldn’t—”

He grabs another object — a picture frame — and throws it, shattering it against the floor.

You cover your face with your hands, trying to hold yourself together, but the tears won’t stop.

“I’m trying to save you,” you whisper through sobs. “Why won’t you let me save you?”

He doesn’t answer.

Because you both know the truth.

You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.

~~~~~

The apartment is dead silent.

It’s been like that all day.

You’ve been cleaning for hours, but the mess never seems to get any smaller. There’s glass on the floor, torn-up drawers, clothes and papers scattered everywhere. His cigarette ashes that stained the carpet, a dark smudge you can’t scrub out no matter how hard you try.

And Su-bong hasn’t said a word.

He’s been on the couch since morning.

Since you screamed at him. Since he threw things at you.

He hasn’t moved.

He hasn’t looked at you.

The sunlight has shifted across the room, cutting through the blinds in harsh slants. Afternoon light. Late afternoon. Time has passed in that slow, suffocating way it does after a fight — heavy, dragging, relentless.

And all you can feel is the weight of his silence.

You sweep broken glass into the dustpan, your hands shaking, your breath shallow.

You can feel the tension hanging in the air — sharp, brittle, ready to shatter.

Your stomach twists painfully.

You want him to say something.

But at the same time, you’re terrified he will.

Because when Su-bong speaks, it’s never gentle anymore.

You dump the dustpan into the trash, brushing your hands on your jeans. Your palms are sweaty. Your chest feels tight.

He’s still sitting there, legs spread wide, one arm draped over the backrest, his cigarette burning down to ash.

He hasn’t moved.

Hasn’t looked at you once.

Fuck.

You glance toward the shattered picture frame on the floor.

He threw that at you this morning.

You think about the sound of it hitting the wall, the way it shattered into pieces. The way he looked at you — cold, furious, distant.

Your throat tightens.

Your hands start to tremble again.

Why are you still here?

You pick up the broom again, brushing up some paper that was planted on the floor.

Your mind is racing, filled with what-ifs and regrets.

What if he explodes again?

What if you say the wrong thing?

What if this is the time he doesn’t stop?

You swallow hard, trying to push the thoughts away.

But they stay.

Lurking. Whispering.

“I flushed everything.”

You can still hear yourself saying it — the way your voice cracked, the way his face twisted with rage.

He hasn’t forgiven you for that.

You don’t think he ever will.

You set the broom aside, pressing your palms to your thighs to steady your shaking hands.

You have to say something.

The silence is suffocating.

And you can’t take it anymore.

But your chest aches with dread. Your stomach is in knots. You feel like you’re walking into a trap.

You wipe your hands on your jeans again, more out of habit than anything. Your fingers are clammy, trembling.

Finally, you take a shaky breath and step toward the couch.

“Su-bong?”

Your voice comes out softer than you intended.

Tentative.

Small.

He doesn’t respond.

He just takes a slow drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling into the air between you, twisting and fading before it reaches the ceiling.

Your pulse kicks up, your nerves buzzing like static.

You wipe your hands on your jeans again, fidgeting.

He’s ignoring you.

You take another step closer, your knees unsteady. The sunlight cuts across his face, making the dark circles under his eyes look deeper.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

Still, he doesn’t look at you.

But you see the way his jaw tightens.

The way his fingers twitch, clenched around the cigarette.

He’s listening.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep going. Your voice shakes.

“I just…” You trail off, unsure what to say.

Unsure if it even matters.

The words feel too heavy, too fragile.

Like they’ll shatter in the air.

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

Finally, he moves.

He leans forward slowly, crushing the cigarette into the ashtray with a soft hiss.

And then, he looks up.

His eyes lock on yours.

Dark. Bloodshot.

And completely unreadable.

“You didn’t know what else to do?” he echoes, voice low, rough.

You flinch at the sound of it.

The tone.

The quiet anger simmering underneath.

“You didn’t have to do shit.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

Your hands won’t stop trembling.

“I was scared,” you say softly, desperate now. “I was scared for you.”

His lips twitch into something bitter.

“Scared for me?” He laughs, but it’s not a kind sound. It’s sharp. Cold. Empty.

“Mmm.” He nods sarcastic as if you were telling some kind of joke.

You step closer, kneeling beside him now.

Your heart is pounding.

Your head feels light, like you’re on the edge of something dangerous.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Nothing.

“I love you,” you say again, voice cracking.

Because you need him to hear it.

Because you need it to be true.

Finally, he looks at you.

And there’s nothing soft in his gaze.

Just anger. Disgust. Exhaustion.

“Then why the fuck are you still here?”

The words hit you like a slap.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You feel it — the sting of them, the weight of them, pressing down on your chest.

You want to say something.

You want to scream, to cry, to tell him that you’re here because you love him, because you want to save him, because you can’t imagine your life without him.

But before you can speak, he grabs your wrist.

His grip is too tight. Too rough.

As he’s pulling you into his lap, his hands already moving to your hips, digging in hard enough to bruise.

“You said you love me.”

His voice is low, soft, dangerous.

“Show me.”

His hands don’t feel the way they used to.

There’s no softness in them anymore.

No warmth.

Just frustration. Impatience. Roughness.

You lie there, your body pinned beneath his weight, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling against his shoulders.

You wanted this to be different.

You wanted this to be soft.

Forgiving.

But it’s not.

His lips press against your neck, messy and forceful. His teeth graze your skin, biting down hard enough to sting. You flinch, but he doesn’t stop.

His hands move to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He’s yanking your clothes off, rough and unrelenting.

There’s no tenderness in the way he touches you.

It’s not a kiss.

It’s not love.

It’s control.

You try to touch him.

Your hands tremble as you reach for his face, hoping to ground him — to bring him back.

But he grabs your wrist, pinning it down.

“Don’t.”

His voice is low, rough, filled with something you can’t quite place. Anger. Frustration. Exhaustion.

“Just let me.”

Your chest tightens.

Your stomach twists painfully.

You don’t want this.

Not like this.

“Su-bong—”

He cuts you off with a sharp tug of your jeans, dragging them down your legs, his hands trembling slightly.

He’s impatient. Frustrated.

“I said, don’t.”

The words hit you like a slap.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You close your eyes for a moment, tears burning behind your eyelids.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t what you wanted.

“Wait.”

The word slips out softly, almost a whisper.

Tentative. Hesitant.

He doesn’t stop.

His hands are still moving — grabbing at your thighs, pulling you closer, positioning you the way he wants.

You press your hands against his chest, trying to push him back.

“Wait.”

Still, nothing.

You swallow hard, your voice shaking now.

“Su-bong, stop.”

He freezes.

For a moment, you think he’s going to listen.

You think he’s going to stop.

But when he looks at you, his gaze is dark, bloodshot, distant.

“I need this,” he mutters. “Just… shut up and let me.”

And then he moves again.

You go still beneath him.

Frozen. Paralyzed.

Your heart is pounding, loud and insistent, telling you to get up, to run, to scream.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

Because you love him.

Because you keep telling yourself it’s just a moment.

Because you’re still trying to make excuses.

His frustration only grows.

His touch gets rougher, more impatient.

He grabs your thighs, spreading them apart with more force than necessary.

His hands are shaking slightly, but he doesn’t slow down.

He doesn’t stop.

You try to speak again, but he cuts you off with a sharp kiss — more teeth than lips, more bite than kiss.

“Just stop talking,” he says, his voice low and strained. “Please.”

The desperation in his voice makes your chest ache.

But this isn’t desperation for you.

It’s desperation for something else.

Something he could find in a bag or a bottle.

And he’s using you to chase it.

It hurts.

Every touch is too rough.

Every kiss is too hard.

His grip is too tight.

You close your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks.

You tell yourself it’s almost over.

Just a moment.

He’s just angry.

He’s just high.

But deep down, you know that’s not true.

When it’s over, he pulls away without a word.

He doesn’t look at you.

He doesn’t ask if you’re okay.

He just rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling, his chest heaving.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling too, your body aching, your skin burning, your heart hollowed out.

And when you finally get up, your legs are shaky, your hands trembling, your mind screaming at you to leave.

But you don’t.

You walk to the bathroom instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The water is scalding.

It hits your skin like needles, burning, stinging.

But you don’t turn it down.

You want it to hurt.

You stand under the spray, scrubbing your skin until it’s raw, until it stings, until you feel like you’ve peeled away every trace of him.

But you can still feel his hands on you.

You can still feel the bruises forming under your fingertips.

The water doesn’t wash it away.

Nothing does.

You press your hands against the tile, your chest heaving with quiet sobs.

Why are you still here?

The question echoes in your mind, over and over.

But you don’t have an answer.

You tell yourself you love him.

You tell yourself he didn’t mean it.

But deep down, you know the truth.

He won’t stop.

He won’t change.

And still —

You stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you step out of the shower, your skin is red and raw, aching with every step.

You wrap a towel around yourself, but it doesn’t cover the bruises.

Your reflection stares back at you from the mirror —

Wide eyes. Red-rimmed. Lips trembling.

A distant stranger.

You take a shaky breath, running your fingers through your damp hair.

And then, you step back into the bedroom.

Su-bong is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

When he hears you, his head snaps up.

For a moment, you think you see concern in his eyes.

His gaze flickers to the bruises on your thighs, to the dark mark on your neck where he bit you.

“You’re hurt.”

The words are soft.

Almost tender.

He steps toward you slowly, like he’s afraid you’ll run.

And you flinch.

His hand, halfway to your arm, pauses in midair.

For a moment, neither of you move. The space between you feels too wide, too tense, too fragile — like a thread pulled tight, ready to snap.

“Come here.”

His voice is soft now.

Quiet. Careful.

Like he’s trying to make up for what he did without actually saying the words.

You stay where you are.

You want to run.

You want to scream.

You want to shove him away.

But you don’t.

Because you’re tired.

So fucking tired.

And you just want it to stop.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are soft.

Almost fragile.

He steps closer, and this time, you don’t flinch.

You don’t move.

You’re too tired.

His fingers brush against the bruises on your arm.

Light. Careful.

Like he’s trying to be gentle now.

Like he’s trying to erase the marks he left behind.

But they won’t fade.

And you both know it.

“I just… I need you.”

The words slip out of him quietly, almost a whisper. His lips brush against your shoulder, pressing soft kisses over the bruises he left.

“I need you to stay.”

You close your eyes.

Tears slip down your cheeks.

You crawl into bed with him, your body aching, your mind screaming at you to leave — but your heart refusing to listen.

His arms wrap around you, warm and heavy, pulling you against his chest.

And you cry quietly into his shirt, trying not to let him hear.

But he does.

He always does.

And still —

You stay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It starts small.

It always does.

A comment.

A glance.

A flicker of something in his eyes — that dark, volatile thing lurking just beneath the surface.

You’ve been walking on eggshells for days.

Ever since the fight.

Ever since the picture frame shattered against the wall.

Ever since you flushed his drugs.

Ever since you cried in his arms after he didn’t stop.

Things have been too quiet.

Too tense.

And deep down, you know it’s coming.

He’s been distant.

Quiet, brooding, his mood shifting like storm clouds rolling in.

You should leave.

You know you should.

But instead, you stay.

You cook him dinner.

You clean the apartment.

You try to make things normal.

But there’s nothing normal about this.

It’s late when he comes home.

Way too late.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, your fingers wrapped around a cup of cold tea, staring at the door like it’s about to explode off its hinges.

When you hear the click of the lock turning, your heart jumps into your throat.

The door swings open, and there he is.

Su-bong.

His hair is a mess.

His eyes are bloodshot.

There’s a bruise on his knuckles, dark and fresh.

And when his gaze lands on you, everything inside you tightens.

This is it.

The storm has finally arrived.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

Your voice comes out sharper than you intended, cutting through the silence.

He steps inside, kicking the door shut behind him with more force than necessary.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

He just stands there, swaying slightly, his hands twitching at his sides.

And then —

He laughs.

Low. Bitter.

The sound sends a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

The words hit you like a slap.

Your grip tightens on the mug, your knuckles turning white.

“You don’t need to explain yourself?”

Your voice shakes.

You hate it.

You hate the way he makes you feel small, like you’re the one who’s wrong.

Like you’re the one who needs to apologize.

“You’ve been gone all day,” you say, standing up slowly, your legs unsteady.

“All day, Su-bong. And now you’re just going to walk in here like nothing happened?”

He shrugs.

Shrugs.

Like he doesn’t care.

Like you don’t matter.

“I made dinner.”

The words sound pathetic as they leave your mouth.

You hate yourself for saying them.

For wanting to fix this.

But he doesn’t even look at you.

He just walks past you, heading toward the bedroom.

“I’m not hungry.”

Something snaps inside you.

The fragile thread holding you together finally breaks.

“No.”

Your voice is sharp.

Louder than it’s been in weeks.

He stops in his tracks.

Slowly, he turns to look at you.

And you can feel it —

The shift.

The crackle of tension in the air.

The storm about to break.

“What did you say?”

His voice is low. Dangerous.

But you’re not backing down. Not this time.

“I said no.”

Your heart is pounding.

You’re scared.

You should be.

But you’ve been scared for so long —

and you’re so fucking tired of it.

“You don’t get to do this anymore.”

The words tumble out, fast and desperate.

“You don’t get to disappear for days and come back like nothing happened. You don’t get to treat me like shit. You don’t get to use me, hurt me, and act like it’s my fault.”

His jaw clenches.

You see the flicker of anger in his eyes.

But you keep going.

“I’ve been here for you through everything. I’ve cleaned up your messes. I’ve lied for you. I’ve loved you, even when you made it impossible.”

Your voice cracks.

Tears sting your eyes, but you don’t stop.

“And I can’t do it anymore, Su-bong.”

Silence.

For a long moment, neither of you move.

The air feels too heavy.

The tension is thick, suffocating.

And then —

He laughs.

“What the fuck do you want from me?”

The words hit you hard.

He throws them like a punch —

bitter, angry, exhausted.

“You want me to change? You want me to be something I’m not?”

His voice rises.

“You want me to stop? for you? You want me to be better?”

He steps closer, his hands shaking.

“I’m not better.

“I’m not fucking better.”

Your chest tightens.

Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and burning.

“I just want you to try.”

The words come out soft, broken.

“I love you, Su-bong.”

He freezes.

For a split second, something flickers in his eyes —

something raw.

And then —

“That’s your fucking x problem.”

The slap comes out of nowhere.

Hard. Fast.

It knocks you to the floor.

For a moment, you don’t move.

Your cheek stings.

Your ears ring.

Your whole body feels like it’s been shattered.

And when you finally look up, he’s staring down at you.

His chest heaves.

His hands shake.

And for a split second —

He looks scared.

“You’re right.”

His voice cracks.

“I’m not better.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.

And this time —

You believe him.

You push yourself up slowly, your whole body trembling.

“I loved you.”

Your voice is soft.

Broken.

“But you killed it.”

He doesn’t stop you as you walk toward the door.

But his voice follows you.

Soft. Bitter. Full of regret.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You pause.

And for a moment —

You almost turn around.

But you don’t.

You keep walking.

And as you step outside, tears streaming down your face, your heart breaking into pieces —

You know you’ll never be free.

Because he’ll always haunt you.

Like carrion.

Rotting.

Decaying.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

so I was looking around at some posts abt the neil gaiman thing and obviously, I've been seeing some people talking about good omens. but one thing that sorta stood out to me were some posts wondering about whether or not they should stop watching the show because they "don't want to leave" david tennant and michael sheen, or that they feel bad for these actors due to gaiman's actions.

whether or not you choose to continue to watch the show is up to you. but if you feel this way, please remind yourself that you (probably) don't know david tennant and michael sheen, either. I'm not saying that they did anything like gaiman did, but I find it ironic that some people are attaching themselves parasocially to these actors, especially after gaiman abused the parasocial relationship his fans had with him as a shield against his even more reprehensible sexual abuse. tennant and sheen hopefully aren't abusers, but nonetheless, please consider the degree of your attachment to them. they're not your friends; they won't be upset if you choose not to watch their show.

I also think it makes sense to feel bad for them, but please remember that tennant and sheen were not the people hurt most by neil gaiman's actions. the conversation should stay focused on gaiman's victims, both the women he abused and his child, whom he traumatized.

[draculasstrawhat]

I want to add a couple of little points to this, just because politics of farming and fabric production, both in the question and in the reply?

So, the question: “What the hell is going on in the Highlands and Islands? Why are they such an empty wasteland??”

Okay. The Clearances.

We’ve all done our homework on enclosure? “They hang the man and whip the woman/who steals the goose from off the Common/ but turn the greater villain loose/ who steals the Common from off the goose”?

This was that on a grand scale - complete dispossession of the ancestral holdings of the land. Destruction of entire communities, so that landlords could farm profitable beef, and wool.

Crucially, wool.

In British social injustice around land ownership and use - it almost always comes down to wool.

The scars are very much still there. It is remarkably insensitive to call the Highlands and Islands a wasteland given that context.

One aspect of it was to force smallholders from subsistence farming in to “more profitable industries”.

Now, on to the next part - the answer, I want to say something about the fabrics and the sheep.

Derek Guy identifies two types of fabric: Cheviot, and Tweed.

Now, none of what follows is intended to diminish the continued cultural importance, or protected status of Harris Tweed. Everything he says about it is true, and important, and it is a crucial, traditional industry in a very economically deprived and isolated part of the country.

But. Cheviot and Tweed.

Please excuse the screenshot of this map:

What are those hills called that straddle the Anglo-Scottish border?

Interesting.

I wonder what the name of the river is that flows towards Kelso? Let’s zoom in:

So… why are Cheviot and Tweed produced… on the other side of the country from Cheviot and Tweed?

Well, there are some sources that claim “tweed” is actually a funny misinterpretation of a Scottish person saying “twill”, and that Cheviot is named after the sheep (which are named after the hills.)

But blackface sheep aren’t indigenous to the Highlands, either - another name for them is Northumberland Sheep - Northumberland, through parts of which, the Tweed flows. They weren’t introduced in Northern Scotland until the late 18th C. ie, during the Clearances.

Essentially, when the people went out, these sheep came in.

Now, I don’t have a firm answer here. Smallholders all over Scotland will have been waulking and weaving similar fabrics for centuries, with a huge degree of regional variation, but Harris as a centre of cloth production, tweed as a fabric, only date to the 18th century.

I think, sometimes, when we’re talking about “wild, unspoilt land!” like the Highlands, and “ancient crafts” like artisan fabric production, there is a tendency to consider these things as a universal, timeless, and purely positive thing, and to ignore the economic and social circumstances which created them.

This is particularly critical at a time when the big landowners in the Highlands are selling estates wholesale to foreign nationals, who are further dispossessing the people of those communities.

The Highlands and Islands face enormous economic challenges, and generational lack of opportunity, as well as ongoing depopulation. I fully support the Harris cloth makers, especially in the ways they work against this, but just wanted to contextualise a bit.

The answer to "What the h*ck goes on on those islands to the North and West of mainland Scotland?" by Derek Guy @/dieworkwear on twitter [x]

[vmlnrzmp4]

nsfw

cw: reader's first time going full way, 3 different positions, porn w plot, no use of condom(don't be silly, wrap the willy.) a/n: i usually don't give cw, trying to keep the smut a surprise. i have proof read it, but i think there might be some errors. feel free to correct me.

the air around was charged as the shuffling, heavy pants and moans filled the room. it was another one of kaiser's and yours pathetic dry humping session.

his head leaning on the head-rest while his hands gripped your hips, urging your movements to go faster and faster and faster—till the both of you come undone.

you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, the room filling with exhausted panting.

"so good angel," he kissed your temple, "so good."

but a word taunted you in your head. you faced him, meeting your eyes with his, "mihya...am i boring?"

"what are you saying angel?" he raised his eyebrow, clearly confused where that came from, "if this is about sex then no, you're not boring."

it had happened a day ago. you had gone out with your friends. sitting in a public cafe, talking about each other's sex life without a care, shamelessly—no matter how many people stared in surprise and disgust.

shortly after you and your friends were kicked out, the first thing they did was to drag you into a pharmacy. they told you to not to worry about the prescription. you wordlessly agree, taking the small rectangular box of birth control pills—so that you can stop with the boring sex life as your friends described it.

was it boring? sure you and your boyfriend never went any further that that and orals. but so lost in enjoying them, you never thought it would be considered boring and you got self conscious. what if he thinks like them? you worried.

"hey," kaiser cradled your face, his voice so gentle, "where did that come from?"

"tell me," you asked firmly, "do you ever wish to go further than this?"

"all the fucking time," he answered without hesitation, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the lovely guesture contrast to his lewd words.

the silence that followed didn't take much time as you started unbuttoning his shirt. just when you were down to two, he gripped your wrist, "are you sure?"

"yes." your response was quick.

he smirked, giving you a go-ahead and you went back to undoing the buttons, not bothering to even take off the shirt off his shoulders as you ran your fingers on his chest to his abs.

you reached his belt, undoing it—him helping you take it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor unconcernedly. he then pulled over your shirt off, unclipping your bra, also throwing away your shorts alongwith your panties.

he asked you if you were sure again. you nodded but he needed words.

"i want this."

"that's my girl," he presses his face in the crook of your neck, "ride me."

the next moment you found him in you. you didn't move however. he didn't let you. telling you that he had to take care of your tits first, running his hands around them.

"i wanna move," you whined, your hands that rested on his shoulders dug into his skin. it didn't pain him. even if he did, he considered it pleasure.

"patience angel, wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?"

you hummed a yes, "i wanna...but i want to move."

"beg."

"please," you pleaded, "i wanna move, mihya...i wanna feel you more...so badly, please."

he smirked, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a shit eating grin as he coos at you, nodding at you to proceed.

it took you a bit by surprise when he moaned. yes, kaiser moaned. sure, the little pathetic sessions before had him grunting. but nothing compared to how he moaned now as you kept bouncing on his cock.

but other than that, the sight in front of him was to behold. you were getting there, he could tell by the way your bounces fastened and became irregular, following a certain pattern. his hands gripped your hips so tightly as he helps you bounce, the bed creaking and creaking.

the creaking finally stopped as the two of you reached peak and you slowed down, riding out your high.

"angel," he called out softly, "think you can go one more time?"

"yes, god, yes yes!" so lost in the moment, you threw the shame out of the window, letting arousal take over you.

he positioned you beneath him, as he littered kisses down your neck, collarbone—down to your tits, his tongue circling around your nipples without breaking eye contact.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he aligned his cock in you. your leg over his shoulder, the other one spread out by his grip as he pounds into you with no mercy, "god," he breaths out, "look at you angel, so beautiful." oh how can his words be so lovely when he's fucking the sweet moans out of you.

"w-wait," you halt him.

"angel?"

"...kiss me, please?" and oh how could he say no? he leaned down, capturing your lips with his into a sweet kiss with simultaneously fucking you. he leans lower, biting into your shoulder, making you hiss.

"mihya...so—" you got interrupted when he hit the spot just right, letting a moan surpass your lips, "so c-close."

he chuckles at your pityful words, stopping and before you could even ask why he did so—he flips you around with a swift motion as his grip on your hips tighten, manhandling you to raise your ass upwards, your face squished in the pillow.

he pounds into you mercilessly from back. the room filling in with his moans, your muffled whimpers, the slapping sounds of the skin and creaking of bed. it was so so lewd.

"fuck angel...im not gonna last any longer. you close?"

you barely managed to choke out a muffled yes. at that, his movements grew erratic, though he didn't slow down.

he knew you came when he hears a loud cry of his name muffled. he thrusts into you a few more times as he cums inside you. pulling out, a groan escapes his lips as he sees his release dripping from your pussy.

he lays besides you, gently urging you to face him as he kisses you. he kisses and kisses. slow, fast, biting, licking. all of it, still having a gentle touch to it.

"you did so good angel," he pecks your forehead, "so good for me." he litters more kisses on your face, pulling you into his embrace, telling you how good you did, whispering sweet nothings.

"let's clean up yeah?" he exhales, "then i'll run to the store real quick."

"no need," you say.

"no need?" he questions, "what d'ya mean?"

"i um...brought plan B."

he lets out an airy laugh, "you were prepared, huh?"

"well..." you go on telling him about the conversation you had the day before. how your friends described their sex life. and when it came to you, they said what you and kaiser do was boring. he laughs at that, pulling you closer, calling you a dummy. he was thankful for it nonetheless.

"c'mon let's shower," he says, tho there was a tease in his tone, "another round?"

[snoopyhq]

Jealous viktor + reader 🙏

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ so with my best, my very best, i set you free

(i love laufey 🗣️ her cover of "i wish you love" with the icelandic orchestra? 2:49 of heaven)

type: viktor x reader

summary: headcanons and a drabble of jealous viktor. headcanons are pre-relationship, the drabble is the established relationship ✪ ꨄ︎

word count: 2415

a/n: OMG FIRST ASK I'M SO HONORED I'M SO EXCITED YIPPEE !!! will be working on the others whenever i have the time, but TRUST i am plotting and scheming <3 any other askers, feel free to drop by! i hope i did your request justice, dear anon.

It was unfair to you, and to him, in his most miserable moments of pure self-pity

Viktor envied those who were healthy. He wished he wasn't born with the circumstances he was dealt. He would trade anything to spend one day with a respiratory system that didn't choke him from the inside out every time he took a breath

He was jealous of you, initially, when you first met

You seemed to have it so easy

Easy laughter, easy conversation, easy friends. You had an established life, you were loved, and you held yourself together with such ease that he sometimes wonders how much you're really holding back

He feels bad for assuming you were dealing with awful problems. But it was very likely. I mean, who was truly that... happy? Well off? At ease with themself and their role in the world? He was probably projecting

And then you somehow, by all the miracles a human could possibly be granted, managed to worm your way into his life and secure yourself there too

Viktor vehemently rejected you at first. He was much like a stray cat. You just gotta continuously give them love on their own terms, and often times, it was slow, and that concept applied to Viktor too

It started with small things. Brief greetings where you called him by name

"Good morning, Viktor."

"Nice to see you here today, Viktor."

"Viktor, you have a good night ok? Get home safe."

Including him in conversations. Commentary about how you two just happened to be in the same place at the same time. The library, a cafe, randomly in the middle of a bustling street

You always had that breezy way of acknowledging things. What a nice coincidence. It was all genuine

You were pleased to be surprised by his presence

Wordlessly holding the door for him, even if you really didn't have to wait. But it was never a big deal, so

He pushed it away. Brushed it off, and tried to forget about it, but those little moments kept circling through his mind like an irritating tape he couldn't dislodge from the disc player, and turning the TV off wasn't doing shit when those scenes were basically burned onto the screen

Like the natural progression of the lunar cycle, Viktor found himself unconsciously expecting you in his life

He can't remember a time when you weren't

Your greetings, your little gestures of kindness, that skill of small talk that meant so, so much to him were cherished like an altar of worship

While he was in no way, shape, or form completely opening himself up to befriending any more people, he began to feel much more natural with you and others you gave your time to

Which brought him to his current bit of emotional turbulence

That prickling in his chest whenever he saw you with other people, giving them your precious words and quality time? Yeah, he shouldn't be feeling this

You were allowed to have other friends! You had people in your life before him, and it doesn't mean you consider him any less just because you spent a moment or two with someone else!

He would tighten his grip on his cane, those mantras feverishly chanting in his mind as he walked in circles, attempting to reign his emotions into a more rational state

He had no right to feel jealous like this, but he couldn't help it

Jayce was his only real companion before, and now that he was a council member, he had less time for Viktor. He had the city to nurture and shape, a big responsibility. The loneliness of the lab was barely a noticeable shift from before

Now, you arrived as if by careless chance, giving him another glimpse, another hit of company, and it was maddeningly cruel to have those doses be in such short time frames

He was given what he needed and wanted, but never fully

Accepting that reality was going to be harder than accepting you truly wishing to be around him, in all his sardonic glory, his blunt nature that had most other people walking away. Just not you

To grapple with this selfish desire was humiliating

He was fully aware of how innately human it all was. If only it were easier. Someday.

For now, he would wait and bask in all the attention and friendship you offered him so willingly

You stood in front of your mirror, going over your carefully put together look one last time. You wanted to look good, and having the outfit fall into place like how you planned it in your head always gave you an extra boost of happiness before you left the house. Straightening the collar of your top one last time, you were finally satisfied.

Viktor was waiting for you in the living room. He stood up when you finally appeared, greeting you with a kiss to your cheek and a murmured "You look enchanting, as always."

You laughed and hugged him.

"And you're dashing, as per usual."

With your arm linked through his, the two of you went on your way. He had planned the date tonight. The winding route led to the sparkling, five-tiered fountain that marked the center of the shopping fair. The flowing water sparkled and danced beneath the fairy lights strung through the evergreens surrounding the space, and orchestral music floated up from where the quintet performed.

You two often went here after a long, stressful week, dining at one of the outdoor tables and idly chatting before hitting a couple stores. Most of the time, it would be the bookshop, the local woodcarver, and then the bakery. You had made it a tradition to buy one another a sweet treat, and it was always a delight to see if your guesses of enjoyment would be met or not.

There was certainly not a lack of other people around you, many of whom were also hand in hand. The center was a popular spot for local students and couples to unwind and spend time together.

When you both had your fill of sights and perusing your respective comforts, you made your way back to the fountain. The musicians had struck up a lively waltz, and many were dancing along now. Both of you shared a look, and moved to join in, albeit towards the edge of the crowds.

Dancing with Viktor was one of your favorite activities. He moved with such assuredness and care for your space, making him all the more captivating in his graces. The respectful placement of his hand on your waist, never going too far and risking your discomfort in public, and never straying away lest he appeared bored, Viktor made sure you were his priority.

After the song concluded, you spun Viktor around slowly to the rhythm of the music drawing to a close, dipping him into a kiss during the final note.

His cheeks were slightly flushed, both from the exertion and from your affection.

"I'm going to grab a drink. We can head home after, if you'd like," you told him, head leaning on his shoulder as he walked with you back up the steps.

"That's perfectly fine. I can hold your bag while you do that."

Oh, Viktor. Ever the gentleman.

You went inside the establishment, and ordered yourself a shirley temple with sweet cream, fully planning to share with him. You knew he had a penchant for the more saccharine in terms of taste. While you waited to order, another patron joined you after placing their order.

"Busy place tonight, isn't it?" they commented.

You turned your attention to them, surprised a stranger was making conversation with you, but you didn't mind. All harmless small talk, after all. You would be leaving soon anyways when your order was finished, so why not pass the time with pleasantries?

"It's one of the most popular cafes around here," you replied. "Friday nights always means live music, so people love to flock here. I should know. I frequent here often." you finished with a smile, and received one in return.

They continued engaging you in conversation, and you soon realized it was taking a bit for your drink. A shirley temple wasn't complicated, and you were worried something was wrong. Maybe they were short-staffed tonight? Did an accident occur in the back?

"Are you worried about your drink?"

"No, not really. More so the workers here," you were honest. Some of them were fellow students you see at the academy, and others knew you as a regular, and you had grown quite fond of the staff as they were of you.

"That's a surprise. You're very sweet."

Their order quickly arrived, and they bid you farewell before departing into the night. You walked up to the counter, asking if everyone was ok. The barista reassured you, saying it was only going to take a little while, and that everything is alright now. Relieved, you went back to your perch.

Outside, Viktor was waiting anxiously. This was taking a lot longer than he had anticipated.

When someone emerged from the cafe, he was tempted to get up and ask them if they'd seen you in there.

Yes, my partner. About this tall, very beautiful eyes, a smile you can't miss. Have you seen...?

God. He was contemplating approaching a stranger just to inquire about you. Luckily (or was it?) for him, they must've sensed him sneaking glances at the cafe and at them, because they approached him cheerily.

"You look a little lost. Need some help?" they asked.

"Oh, it's alright. I'm just waiting for someone."

At that, they perked up.

"It wouldn't happen to be someone wearing the same colored blouse as your vest would it?"

Yes. It was. He confirmed it.

"That's perfect actually! I was just talking to them, and since you know them, do you think they would be interested in exchanging contact information with me? They were quite lovely company, and I wouldn't mind getting to know them better."

Viktor could feel his heart drop and the temperature in his soul rise several degrees. What was going on? Where were you? What had happened in those minutes that you were gone?

"I will... ask them," he attempted to keep his tone even. "Mind giving me your contact information to pass along?"

The stranger happily handed Viktor a piece of paper, their messy scrawl sending a sting of irritation through him. That penmanship was not worthy of you, and would certainly not compare to the intricate scripting of his own handwritten notes and letters to you.

When you finally rejoined him, you could tell immediately something was off. You questioned him about it, and he huffed, telling you not to worry about it as you walked home. He didn't even pay any mind to the bag that hung on your arm, too caught up in his insecurities and worries.

That stranger was so much like you. So approachable. Good conversationalist. He couldn't help but imagine a scenario of you two getting along a little too well, and that made something deep inside him hurt. Clearly, he wasn't as good as keeping his thoughts off his face as he believed, or you had simply gotten better at understanding him, because you promptly asked him again.

"Come on, Viktor. Talk to me. What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?"

"If you knew the full extent of what I'm thinking of, you wouldn't be so quick to call my mind beautiful," he grumbled tersely.

"You can't judge my reaction for me. Spill."

He bit the inside of his cheek. Finally, he confessed. It felt like ripping out stitches from his tongue.

"... someone at the coffee shop. They asked me if I knew you, and then asked if you would be interested in their contact information."

At that, you raised an incredulous eyebrow. Ah. You were blissfully oblivious of the jarring events.

"Viktor, I promise nothing is wrong. We were both waiting for our drinks, and they happened to be making small talk with me. That's all. I love you with my whole heart, and no one else can ever--will not ever--compare."

His heart fluttered. He knew that was the realistic truth, but it was nice to hear reassurance from you anyways.

"You mean it?" he asked.

"I mean it," you said sincerely.

Setting your bags and drink on the nearby bench, you swept him into your arms and twirled him around beneath the streetlight's warm glow.

"I love you," you declared, hands holding his face tightly. Your thumb brushed against the beauty mark above his lip. "And if you ever need reminders of that, you tell me immediately. I will literally drop everything and make sure your doubt disappears completely for as long as I can hold it back."

He gazed into your eyes, his own now slightly misted. Their glossiness reflected warmth and adoration as he took in your face. Seeing the conviction there did something to him. He didn't know what, but he found himself giving in to the urge to just close the distance and kiss you right then and there, open street be damned.

It began to snow. He only realized when he parted from you, the taste of your chapstick still lingering. He looked up, watching the delicate flakes be illuminated by the warm, golden glow. If there was a visualization for the love he felt, it would be that he decided. It all just built and built from all the little things, and filled him with such life it almost hurt.

"We should go home," he whispered, looking back at you.

"Oh yeah, we should. I was going to tell you!" you gasped, running back for your drink and the bag. "They gave me extra cakes and rolls. The last ones of the specialty desserts before their next seasonal delights, so we can share them." you beamed.

"Really? That's quite generous of them."

He wasn't surprised. You were just so damn lovable. He would give you all the baked goods you desired and more, if only for another smile from you directed at him. His fingers intertwined with yours, fondness consuming him as you chatted about the different flavors of the desserts, which ones you were most excited about, and which ones you think he'd like.

He had to agree with your assessments. A dark chocolate and orange mousse did sound quite appealing for him. He already knew he'd let you have the last bite, regardless.

"Oh, and Viktor?"

"Hmm?"

"You can throw away the contact. I don't need it."

I already have you.

[bitter-me]

Flustered Biker Boy

Lighter | M. Reader

----------

Based on one of his Trust Events, where he got flustered/shy from being called handsome. So I took it and multiplied it by three.

----------

"The Red Scarf," "the Undefeated Champion," "the Champion of the Sons of Calydon."

So many titles just for one man. He must be a legend if people speak of him in such a way. Someone that could be considered as a myth. So surreal that there's no way someone like him truly exists. It's impossible to think one person has the ability fight at least 50 men. Alone. All at once. And emerge victorious.

Yet it's all true. That man does exist and that man...

Is currently trying to hide his face with his scarf.

[Name] laughs at Lighter's reaction. He had just called him handsome and he's already so flustered? Is this the same Champion they talk about in the Outer Ring? But hey, he's not complaining. It's cute~

"Is something wrong? Your face is red." To see Lighter's face slowly rivaling the red of his scarf is a sight to behold. A sight.. only for him to see. Oh what privilege.

Lighter didn't respond. Instead he just cleared his throat. "Anyways.." He tries to act all cool and suave. As if being called handsome earlier didn't affect him in such a way which only earned him another laugh from [Name].

----------

Hanging out with Lighter had always been a joy. Despite his appearance and the whispers about him. He's quite the character. A man of power who sometimes has a childish streak. Someone who can play along and have fun but act all serious when the situation demands it. Who wouldn't love someone like that? Someone from the Outer Ring?

"Oh, they have a couple discount on the milk tea." [Name] thought out loud the moment he read the sign in front of the store. With a cheeky grin he glances over at Lighter and instantly links his arms around the other, making a B-line to the store.

Lighter was about to ask what's wrong only to be cut off by [Name]'s next words. "Excuse me, we like to take the couple discount, please."

Heat instantly makes its way onto Lighter's face. He originally thought that they were in some kind of danger. That someone was stalking them and planning to strike, which is why [Name] linked their arms like that. Trying to lead both of them to safety or something, but no. He was wrong. There wasn't some bad guy for him to fight. No, this is a different fight. A battle against..

..Economy.

Oh the things they do for a discount.

Meanwhile [Name] is extremely happy with himself. They've gotten milk tea for half the price and saw Lighter trying to hide his flustered face by drinking his milk tea.

What a great day to be alive.

----------

In this quality time of theirs. The two decided to go to the Outer Ring. So far [Name] had always suggested something in New Eridu, making excuses that Lighter should learn a few things about the city. But this time it was his turn to learn about the Outer Ring with Lighter as his guide.

But of course, time flies by fast when you're having fun.

Getting off of the bike [Name] stretched out his limbs with a groan. He had nearly forgotten how long the ride was from the Outer Ring to New Eridu. However it was more than worth it.

"You know, I had fun today." He began slowly before planting a small kiss on Lighter's cheek and pulls away with a cheeky grin. "See you later, biker boy." And with that he went straight towards the front door. Leaving an obviously red Lighter alone on his bike.

The red scarf had always suited him. Making him quite the eye candy. But a red face would definitely make him ten times more handsome.

[gaydiesaster]

reblogging with my tags bc dammit i’m a library sciences master’s student who frequently uses public libraries and am about to start working in a rural library and i am incredibly passionate about this.

[id. tags that read “#okay as a library sciences student i feel inclined to add: include on-site social workers/services in libraries #librarians (esp public librarians) are not trained to provide social services such as homelessness and crisis support and cannot help #and those resources SHOULD be readily available! people should know how to access them! #i read an article recently about how a city affected by winter storn blair opened up libraries as warming spaces #the problem is the librarians were not prepared for this. a huge number of them couldn't even get to work bc public transport was down. #so now librarians who are even MORE overworked than usual have to act as crisis counselors #Imk if yall want a link to the article. i am more than happy to share! #library diary”]

i am also including a link below to the article mentioned.

public librarians have been talking about this for a long time. professors i work with are studying this. can public librarians substantially support the needs of people in crisis? it’s not an easy question, but most of the time, the answer is no. this is what leads to librarian burnout. this is why libraries are so understaffed. because the city, county, and state governments that employee the librarians and support staff (who often don’t have a library sciences graduate degree) don’t want to provide adequate services or protections for the homeless, people in crisis, or those needing additional support. sure, we can help find resources such as shelters, food pantries, or resume proofreading, but we are not prepared for when a person experiencing a mental health crisis comes in the doors or when a person is overdosing and needs narcan. a popular librarian, Mychal Threets (his tiktoks have been posted here several times), was included in a NYT article about this very topic and how these circumstances led to his own mental health struggles and departure from his job that he clearly has passion for.

please continue to support your public libraries, but also understand that we are facing a crisis as our governments continue to fail in providing social services to people in need. we need help. we need advocacy. please allow us to continue to serve you. we want to be community centers and third spaces, but in doing so, we need additional support from social workers and other community advocates.

Republicans not wanting to fund libraries is part of their plan to make the next generation illiterate. That is why they are banning books too.

[moonylvs]

✧.* Someone Older

Summary: Being Sevika's girlfriend is already something controversial, to say that all eyes are on you is an understatement, but being much younger than Sevika, gives much more to talk about, Sevika didn't believe that someone could make her so soft, that was until you came along.

This is a little story of how your relationship started and what sevika is like as a girlfriend ;)

This was a Request from an Anon! I hope you like it xoxo

Pairing: Sevika x fem!reader

Words: 4.5k!

ⓘ Warnings: Legal age gap (Reader is of the legal age, she's in her 20s) Men being jerks (insinuations), mentions of alcohol, sevika is a big softie (Because I want to and I can), no proofread, I think that's it, lmk if I forgot anything.

Your history with Sevika was a bit chaotic to say the least, you worked at the last drop as a waitress from time to time, it wasn't the best place but there weren't many job opportunities in Zaun, this was the best you could find, for now.

The first time you saw Sevika was in your first week of work, the woman was in a corner of the bar, playing cards with other local men, with a glass of what looked like whiskey in her hand.

That day you didn't think much of it, you had a dozen tables to serve and on top of that you had to dodge the flirtations of some men who didn't seem to understand your very direct hints that you simply weren't interested in them.

You had to adapt quickly to the job, there were many things to do and few people working and helping you, despite this, you managed to adapt quickly, you were good at serving customers and you were fast, which were very useful qualities in that place.

For the first time after a month you had to attend to the table where Sevika was with other people, in one of her usual card games, although you didn't want to admit it, Sevika's presence was intimidating, but in that job you couldn't be scared or turn back.

“Can I offer you something? Any drinks or food?” You asked politely, holding up a small notepad, awaiting her orders.

“Oh yeah, I have a few things in mind that you could offer me” Said one of the men at the table, looking you over from head to toe with a smirk.

Sevika instantly tensed at the man's words, her jaw tensing just enough to stop herself from saying anything.

“Do you have a name?” The same man asked, not taking his eyes off you.

“I'll just ask one more time, can I offer you something to drink or eat?” you said again, speaking slowly as if you were dealing with children, trying to keep your tone polite, you knew that insults would only cause them to make a complaint and you couldn't afford a pay cut.

The other men at the table seemed to notice your frustration and simply told you their order, some with a more rude and condescending tone.

“A whiskey, please” Sevika said without looking up from her cards, but her tone was kinder than the rest of the people at the table.

You nodded slightly, grateful that someone at the table knew how to say please.

Minutes later you returned with the drinks, leaving them on the table with a friendly smile, though at this point, you were more than exhausted.

“Thank you” Sevika murmured as you handed her the glass of whiskey, still totally focused on her card game, for a moment your gaze rested on her hands, specifically the one holding her cards, you couldn't help a smile to appear on your face, she was going to win.

A few seconds later you proved it, when while you were serving some drinks at the table in front of her, you heard the complaints of the men at the moment that Sevika lowered her cards, all upset because the woman had won, again.

You spent the rest of the night serving drinks for Sevika's table, to your surprise, the man who had made a pass at you didn't say a word again, which was strange, they didn't usually give up so easily, but anyway, you were grateful you didn't have to listen to him.

Little by little people started to leave and the place began to empty, people went with you to pay their tabs at the bar and left, you were finally starting to relax, soon the night would be over and you could take a well-deserved rest.

“Here” Sevika said as she approached the bar, extending the money to you, but you instantly frowned, noticing that it was more than she owed on her tab and it was too much to be a tip.

Sevika seemed to notice your confusion and spoke “It's because of Finn, he's a jerk sometimes, I'm sorry”.

You frowned even more, until you remembered the guy sevika was sitting with, the man who had made a pass at you, you immediately shook your head, making a move to return the money to sevika.

“No, no, you don't have to apologize or give me extra” You said kindly, Sevika was not to blame for that man being a jerk and you couldn't charge extra to every idiot no matter how much you wanted to.

“Take it as a tip” Sevika said seriously, gently pushing your hand with the money and walked out of the place, leaving you with the money in your hands.

You stood still, it wasn't normal for someone to give you that kind of tip, but immediately a smile spread on your face, that money would be very useful, you wouldn't have to worry about that month's rent anymore.

To your surprise, sevika kept showing up at the bar practically every week, and every time she went she left you the same generous amount of tip, it was more than anyone else would give you, plus she was always nicer than the rest of the customers, sometimes even engaging you in small conversations, which you started most of the time, but sevika was more than happy to follow, your conversations were not long or personal, just small chats about her card games or about trivial zaun topics.

Even though sevika's little appearances made your nights a little better, you still had annoying customers who would take every opportunity to try to flirt with you or act like idiots.

This did nothing but wear you out, you had enough with having to attend to a dozen tables to still have to deal with idiots who wanted to sleep with you.

So here you were today, the bar was almost completely empty and your shift was over, you were sitting at one of the tables in the back trying to convince yourself not to quit, you were exhausted and had no energy at all, you had no family or close friends, so you had no one to complain to about your problems, it ended up with you holding it all in until you felt you couldn't take it anymore.

“Are you all right?”

A voice brought you out of your thoughts, trying not to sigh you looked up and nodded slightly, it was sevika who spoke, after her constant visits you now recognized her instantly

“Do you need anything? We'll be closing in about 15 minutes” You said kindly despite how tired you were.

Sevika shook her head instantly, she had been about to leave until she saw you at that table alone and totally exhausted.

“Are you really okay? You look…exhausted” Sevika said, her voice softer than usual, which didn't go unnoticed by you.

“Yeah…it was just a long day” You said softly, your voice showing how exhausted you were, sevika noticed instantly that it wasn't just physical exhaustion, but mental.

Even though you didn't notice it, sevika always kept an eye on you when she went to the bar, it was like something about you magically attracted her, it was probably all the energy you usually had, you usually looked cheerful and lively, the complete opposite of this moment, plus she had seen you deal with dozens of idiot men, you always found a way to ignore them or make them look foolish when they tried to pick you up, but even though you made it look easy, sevika knew it wasn't, she knew it was exhausting.

“Yeah, it must be exhausting to deal with these idiots and still keep that pretty smile of yours” Sevika murmured nonchalantly, sitting on the chair in front of you, you didn't know why but something stirred in you, that compliment wasn't like the ones you heard everyday, her words sounded sincere.

“You have no idea” You replied in a sigh, remembering how exhausting your night had been, it always surprised you how jerks some customers could be, every night was hard, it was Zaun at the end of the day, but that night it felt worse, you didn't know why.

“And why are you still here?” sevika asked, although the question sounded rather stupid to you, you knew she was asking out of genuine curiosity. “You're young to be in a place like this.”

You sighed slightly, somewhat frustrated, you knew you were young, that there were probably more opportunities for you, but being in Zaun things weren't easy, though you didn't want to spend your whole life in a crappy bar either.

“I…I have nowhere else to go…this is the best job I could find” You said simply, without giving more details, your voice sounded resigned, because you were, you had to settle for this.

Sevika nodded slightly, she knew that maybe her question had been a bit stupid , it was obvious that in Zaun you had to make do with what there was, she knew why you worked there, you needed to put food in your mouth and survive, everyone did what they had to do to survive, she knew that better than anyone.

“And what about your family? Or friends?” Sevika asked, her voice softer than usual, she didn't want to believe you had no one by your side to support you.

“I've been on my own for a while now…It's hard to make friends when I spend all my time in this damn place” You explained quietly, your voice echoing with bitterness, you didn't want to say you hated your job, but it definitely wasn't the place you expected to be in your 20s, this definitely wasn't the life you expected to have in your 20s.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't be complaining, my job must sound ridiculous compared to yours” You said after a few seconds in silence, you felt dramatic for complaining about your job to someone like sevika, everyone knew that sevika was practically in charge of keeping the undercity people at line.

Sevika couldn't contain the small smile on her face at gracie's last words, it wasn't a mocking smile, but rather a tender one, a girl gracie's age, a bar waitress, complaining about her job to a woman like sevika, who had seen the cruelty of the city face to face, was a somewhat amusing situation.

“You work all damn day and deal with a bunch of idiots, you can complain all you want” Sevika said casually, although her voice sounded sincere, it sounded understanding, which was the opposite of what you would expect from a woman like her.

Something in you stirred at her words, you used to tell yourself that you couldn't complain, that you were living a good life compared to others, that your life wasn't that bad, even others had told you that, but here was sevika, the toughest woman you had ever seen, the one who definitely had it worse than you, telling you that you could complain all you wanted.

“You don't have to act like you don't care all the time, you have the right to complain about your life when it feels like shit.” Sevika said quietly, without looking at you, instead she stood up, she herself didn't know why she was being so soft on you, there was something about you, something that made it impossible for her to act rude to you.

“Shall I walk you home?” sevika asked after a few moments, your legs practically moved by instinct, standing up and starting to walk beside her towards the exit of the bar, which at this point was empty and closing.

That was the first of a dozen times that sevika walked you home, that day for the first time you could complain to someone about how shitty your life was, sevika wasn't very good at comforting you, but she listened attentively and gave you advice from time to time.

Sevika spent the next few weeks walking you home, she didn't even ask anymore, she just waited until your shift was over and walked you home, most of the time she tried to get you to talk, although she didn't talk too much, she just asked you how your day was and let you talk all the way, telling her absolutely everything, she quickly found out that you enjoyed talking a lot and although she wouldn't admit it, she enjoyed listening to you talk.

Sevika hesitated too much to ask you out, when I say too much is too much, she spent a week thinking whether to do it or not, she liked you, she had accepted it after a while, but something in her still doubted that you liked her.

Sevika did not have low self-esteem, not at all, but something about you made her doubt, you were much younger than her and your personalities were very different, Sevika did not believe that you could fall in love with someone like her, a rough and closed woman, much older than you.

Even so sevika started to change a bit with you, doing little acts as if to test the waters, trying to see if you would respond the same way.

But of course, sevika wasn't very subtle with her actions, this woman doesn't know how to be subtle, yet you pretended not to notice anything and let her buy you drinks, bring you food, give you her jacket and so on.

Still you couldn't help but laugh when you noticed that sevika really thought she was being subtle, you thought it was cute, but you didn't say anything, you didn't have the heart to say it.

When Sevika finally got up the courage to ask you out on a real date she was surprised when you accepted right away, for the first time you left her speechless.

“Really?” Sevika asked incredulously, as if she didn't really believe you would have accepted so easily.

You nodded instantly, giving sevika a small smile, that smile that made her so weak.

On your first date Sevika showed up with a small bouquet of flowers, that bouquet had cost her a full salary, flowers were expensive in Zaun, but Sevika didn't care, she once heard you say you loved flowers and she promised to give you one.

During that first date, sevika could say for the first time, that she had a wonderful time, she had never been someone for the cheesy stuff, at her age she felt ridiculous doing it, but you were the opposite, your smile was contagious and made her feel like a teenager in love even if she didn't show it.

Listening to you talking about your life and your dreams made sevika realize that you were the one, something in her still felt insecure, not because of you, but because of herself, you seemed so cheerful and full of life, she was afraid that by her side you would lose that spark, that her temper would make you fade, sevika never expected that it would be the other way around, that you would make her become brighter and cheerful, that you would make her feel alive after so many years.

So after their first date, that wednesday that sevika remembered perfectly, in that cafeteria that seemed like a dream, sevika felt something new grow in her, for the first time in years, she felt in love.

₊˚⊹ᰔ Headcanons

⟡ Sevika asked you to be her girlfriend in private after the third date, she was tired of waiting and didn't want to spend one more second without being able to introduce you as her girlfriend, that same day was your first kiss and Sevika swore she had tasted heaven, your lips were soft and sweet on hers, it was heaven itself.

⟡ Even as girlfriends, sevika kept visiting the last drop and taking you home after your shift was over, the only difference is that now you didn't go straight home, instead you would visit a restaurant or end up at sevika's apartment ;)

⟡ Sevika never cared what you wore, she would never tell you to change, but she definitely liked you to show her what you were going to wear before you went out so she could wear something that “matched” according to her, plus she always enjoyed you modeling the clothes she gave you. She didn't care if you wore short skirts or the most baggy clothes in the world, she would still see you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world, and you didn't even have to worry about any man trying to flirt with you, one look from sevika and they would walk away instantly.

⟡ You became sevika's official waitress, no one else could serve her in the bar except you, it was an unwritten rule that all the waiters respected, sevika loved to have you around and steal a kiss or two when you brought her drinks.

⟡ This poor woman can barely keep up with you, you are aware that you are somewhat hyperactive, but sometimes you forget that sevika is in her thirties and is exhausted by her lifestyle, yet she never shows it, if you want to spend the whole day walking the streets and going from store to store she will go with you, if you want to go to the club and spend hours dancing, sevika has no problem, although she will probably spend most of the night sitting and watching you dance with a smile on her face.

⟡ Sevika is the most touchy person in the world, this woman has to have her hands all over you all the time, at first she was ashamed to even take your hand, but when you took the initiative, sevika didn't let go anymore. Although going with your hands intertwined is not her preferred form of affection, she prefers to have her hands on your waist, or hug you from behind while you talk to someone or put her hand on your shoulders while she talks to someone, if you go down the street you always hug her arm while walking.

⟡ If there is something that sevika loves about you is your personality, she has never considered herself someone very cheerful or charismatic, so having you by her side was like a gift for her, she loves to listen to you talk and laugh, she would probably never get tired, many times she doesn't understand what you are talking about, because she is used to the old school, but even so she would never shut you up, you want to tell her about a new gossip between singers? Sure, tell her all about it, she has no fucking idea who they are but it sounds interesting, you want to go to a concert? sure, she pays for the tickets, she has no idea who the singer is but it's fun to watch you get excited.

⟡ This woman finds out everything so late, one day she can come and tell you the “newest gossip” and in reality you already knew it two weeks ago, you would still take care of telling her everything and since that day sevkia always asks you to tell her everything you know, although she would never admit that she is a gossip.

⟡ This woman wears reading glasses and you can't tell me otherwise, she hates wearing them but she has to and she doesn't like you mentioning it, the first time you saw her with them she felt insecure but when you told her she looked good she relaxed a little, she still doesn't wear them often even though she knows it will hurt her in the future.

⟡ Her way of showing love is acts of service, always, when you started to form your relationship she wanted you to live with her and quit your job, when you refused saying that you didn't want to be a bother, she didn't insist anymore, but she started to help you pay for your things and your rent, even though sevika didn't feel completely sure about you continuing to work in that bar, she understood that you wanted to continue being independent, so she didn't force you to do anything, but she made sure to keep you safe in your job and to help you with expenses that she knew were bothering you, saying that “It was nothing” and that she was only doing it out of good heart,

⟡ She makes dad jokes, the worst jokes in the world, the kind that make you laugh at how bad they are, for her they are the best jokes in the world and no one can tell her otherwise.

⟡ After a few months of dating she offered you to move in with her, it wasn't surprising, you spent too much time in her apartment so why not, even so sevika promised to pay the rent of your old apartment, she knew you had lived there for a long time and you wouldn't want to get rid of it, besides it was nice and you could still visit it from time to time.

⟡ Sevika takes off her prosthetic arm when she gets home, the moment she is at the door and she knows that you are there, safe and sound, she takes it off, even though she knows how to control it perfectly, she doesn't want to risk hurting you by accident, she never loved her prosthetic arm, but not using it is something that makes her feel vunerable not being able to use both arms correctly, but only with you she can stop caring about that vunerability, she doesn't need to be rude and rough with you, she knows that you would never use this vunerability against her.

⟡ She would NEVER let you touch shimmer, that it doesn't even cross your mind, she wouldn't give you a lecture but simply tell you “It's not up for discussion” and make sure you don't do anything stupid, she's not willing to watch you kill yourself little by little over this, if you ever questioned her she would tell you that you are too young to think about ruining your life in such a way.

⟡ This woman can cook, you can't say she can't, even if she won't admit it, she loves to cook, she loves to wake you up with breakfast ready on the table, she would love to prepare your favorite meal every time you ask her to.

⟡ Sevika gets up damn early, at 5 in the morning she would already be exercising and then having breakfast, more than once she has teased you saying that she doesn't understand how you can get up so late, if at your age she had much more energy.

⟡ Sevika Loves to use the phrase “ When I was your age” as if that was a century ago, she knows she's not that old, but according to her, things have changed a lot since she was young.

⟡ She likes to tell you stories of her childhood and teenage years, she never really likes to talk about this part of her life but she likes to do it with you, especially when you are going through a bad time and she wants to show you that things get better “I also thought it was the end of the world when I was your age, but look at me here, you showed up and everything got better.”

⟡ She loves to call you by nicknames, she would never call you by your name unless she is mad, she likes to introduce you as “ Her woman” or “Her lady”, she likes to call you all kinds of nicknames, “Doll”, “Dear”, “angel” or her favorite “Sunshine”.

⟡ She also loves it when you call her by nicknames, such as “Baby”, “Babe”, “Vika” or whatever you want to call her, she doesn't mind, you can even call her that in front of her friends and she wouldn't give a fuck, she just threatens them with a look and they know not to say a word, although some don't even care and laugh their asses off to hear you call a woman like sevika “Baby”.

⟡ Despite sevika's tough personality and looks, she becomes the biggest softie for you, this woman has no power to deny you anything, just bat your eyelashes and give her that pretty smile and she will give you whatever you want, there is nothing she won't do for you and to keep that smile on your face.

⟡ This woman buys absolutely everything you see or say, literally everything, if you go shopping with her you will probably come back with double what you originally needed, did you stare at some cookies in the supermarket? the next second sevika buys them, did you say two days ago you were craving a fruit? Next time you open the fridge there's a whole box.

⟡ Her favorite thing is your smile and your laugh, she loves to see you get excited about the silliest things and loves to see you laugh at any stupidity, many times she finds herself smiling at you without even noticing it.

⟡ There are days when she is not in the mood for anything, but she would never show it to you directly, she would keep hugging you and acting as usual, but the moment you notice it, everything changes, just a few words from you and you have her cuddled next to you, enjoying the caresses you give on her hair, she is not very good at talking about her feelings, so she would only explain very briefly what she feels and let you comfort her, at the end she would always say “What did I do to deserve you?”

⟡ This woman loves to take care of you on your bad days, she notices instantly that something is wrong, because according to her, “She can see it in your eyes”, so the moment she notices it she already cancels all her activities for you, she will cuddle with you as long as you want, she won't let you stay in bed for too long either, she will let you rest for a while and make you your favorite breakfast to cheer you up, then she will take you for a walk and tell you stories to cheer you up, when she feels you are very sad, she takes you to the cafeteria where you went on your first date, saying that that place is where she met the love of her life, that always brings a smile to your face.

© 2025 Moonylvs

Please do not copy any of my writing or feed it to the ai-monster!

[unacknowledgeable]

Yan!batfam x Reader x TMNT (can you tell what I’ve just watched?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not really sure what this is i wanted a lil break from the overwhelming angst from my SK!Reader series, kinda just plot points for this idea that I wanna lay out and explore later more in depth, mostly based of 20018, loosely based off the 2012 Turts, the turtles aren't yandere in this, it’s just the general protectiveness of their family lol :p 

The typical neglected batsibling lol, shows up to the manor at age 5, after the disappearance of your mother, 2 years after Bruce adopted dick

Alfred had really put his foot down on you knowing about bruce's “nightly excursions”, citing the different backgrounds and skill sets as to why Dick was allowed and you weren't even told

So, there's already distance, such a huge secret and constant dangerous activities

Someone who didn't have that drive for justice, and two who needed it like air

That, and that bruce didn't really know how to deal with not just some kid, but his kid that wasn't really supposed to exist at all

You were a complete accident, bruce didn't even remember who your mother was without digging into decades old new articles of his past relationships, years after you had already left the manor

On a lighter note, you meet the turtles pretty early on, which definitely saved you in the long run, despite the rocky start

Three years after arriving at the manor, at the age of 8, you run into the turtles while playing (unsupervised, mind you) by gotham harbor

You heard them in one of the sewer drainage pipes, and after some talking, you asked them to play (you didn't actually expect them to say yes, no one ever did)

They were hesitant, they can't just show themselves willy nilly! They got so lucky with April, but that was April, who saw them first and had to ask questions later

But you had asked questions first, so you’ll get to see them later 

You saw their silent hesitation, and at the risk of looking desperate because you were  you offered to blindfold yourself, so you wouldn't see (don't ever do this, y/n’s dumb and 8)

And they agreed! They actually agreed! You’d been so excited! So excited you barely noticed just how many times you fallen, because the boys played a little rough but you were determined to keep up

So when the time came when you had to leave, you were covered in bruises and mud

Alfred wasn't exactly pleased, but you were smiling and happy, so he wouldn't look a gift horse on the mouth

After that you kept going back, day after day, to play by the waters edge, with people you couldn't see but saw you, instead of staying cooped up in the manor, where you saw everyone and were seen be none

Of course, being batman's kid, you were able to deduce that these kids where some type of mutants, you can only get get knocked over so many time before realizing what you're running into is a hard shell and the hands helping you up only having 3 fingers

So eventually, you find out just exactly what they look like, what kinds of turtles they are etc

This totally doesn't spark a near life long love of turtles, leading you to decorate your entire childhood room with the reptiles, nope no way

You meet April later, since she lives a lot further than the turtles do, and while you could get away with sneaking off to the harbor for 1-2 hours just fine, it was a bit difficult finding a time lapse of time long enough before Alfred grew wary of where you ran off too

The turtles think your dad is some kind of bat mutant or vampire, because you talked about overhearing Barbra and Dick talking about bruce being this “batman” once

No they don't realize they were talking about THE batman until they are way older lol

Otherwise they don't really think anything of it bc their dads a rat like, it’s normal for them

Reader definitely is like, super buff in this bc you've been roughhousing with 4 mutant superhuman turtles since childhood, OF COURSE your gonna be buff

Plus your older than them so losing is just a non option for you, your far too competitive for that

You bring Donnie whatever gadgets you can from the house for him to take apart and use

You’ll bring Mikey spray paints and tag the abandoned theme parks together

You get Raph high quality bedding to stop his spikes from ripping them

You taught Leo how to play chess, and you have a running score on whose won, going back yeaaars

You and April end up going to the same school, (you begged Alfred a lot) so you had a pretty active social life outside the manor and you help her with her job searches a lot

I can't decide if I want Gotham and New York to be sister cities, or just treating them as the same place, I'm still figuring that out lol. I just find the hijinxs of the turtles vs. the angst of the batfamily to be so funny and the worms agreed sooo.

[liketolaugh-writes]

They excused themselves soon after, when both elder Fentons had lost themselves in the folder of studies. Danny all but chased them out, making sure they didn't go anywhere but out the door. It was borderline ghost-like behavior, something G pointed out quietly after the door had shut behind them.

Cory nodded. "If he's that contaminated, they're lucky he never developed ectoplasmic oncosis," he said, referring to the last stage of ectocontamination poisoning. "Maybe children are better able to tolerate it on top of being more susceptible."

G shrugged, offering no further thoughts, so Cory tucked the thought away for later. If nothing else, he suspected this town would provide some data on that front as well. If only they'd been here from the beginning! Cory had never been so thankful for his flawless spiritual relations record. He might not be great with humans, but ghosts, Cory could be patient with.

"Soil samples?" Cory asked G.

"Soil samples," G agreed.

It was boring, working their way through town, packing dirt into vials, but necessary if they wanted an overall distribution of ectoradiation. Cory assumed that the Fenton household would have the most by far, but they should be able to get an idea of which areas saw the most ghost activity by the radiation levels. As they went, he kept an eye on their surroundings and thought absently that the infrastructure costs for this town had to be insane.

"Agent N." Cory glanced up at G's address, and G nodded at a small pack of teenagers hanging out by a fast food restaurant. Nasty Burger? "We should talk to them."

G was probably the only person that Cory wished would say more words. "Liminal?"

G nodded. "They've probably seen enough to have some info."

Cory shrugged and nodded, packing and labeling the last sample before he headed over. The teenagers noticed him before he reached them, and looks of displeasure and disgust appeared quickly. Cory really wanted to have a word with the previous GIW staff. Preferably in a windowless room where no one would see him throttle them. Uncooperative civilians made everything so much harder.

"Hello," he said, clipped but polite. "I'm Agent N, from the research division of the Ghost Investigation Ward. May I ask you some questions about the... ectocontamination present in you and your classmates?" If that was the term the Fentons used, it was most likely what these kids were familiar with.

The kids exchanged annoyed looks and eye rolls before a Hispanic girl took the lead, fixing Cory with a strict look and a surprisingly sharp grin. "Sure, if you can answer one question for us. Phantom, yes or no?"

"...Yes?" It clicked, and Cory nearly rolled his eyes at himself. Of course the locals were pissed at the people shooting at the resident guardian spirit. "The GIW agents you're familiar with were breaking official policy. They were fired en masse last week. Please assume that I disagree with everything they've ever said or done."

He'd caught them by surprise, he could tell, and they exchanged a few more uncertain looks in a hive mind typical of high school cliques.

"So you're with Phantom now?" the Hispanic girl asked, eyebrow raised. Cory nodded. "Like, officially, completely?"

"The competent agents of the GIW understand ghosts a bit better than the guys you're used to," Cory said dryly. "Phantom is a textbook guardian spirit, and probably a peacekeeper at that. Antagonizing him was stupid at best, and at worst, could've turned the whole situation ass-up in all kinds of ways." As it was, they'd probably turned the poor kid into an anxious wreck. Though not without help from the Drs. Fenton and the Huntress.

The girl whistled, though she didn't look completely convinced. "Yeah, okay, you get it," she decided. "Ask away."

On cue, the other kids settled down as well, watching them expectantly. Cory elbowed G in the side. Cory had handled the initial diplomacy, G could ask his damn questions.

G took the implicit order with good grace. "Do you know the signs of ectocontamination?" he asked. There was a general murmur of assent. "How many people do you know that have been exhibiting at least one of those symptoms?"

They exchanged thoughtful looks.

"Most of our year," a blonde girl said decisively. "I mean- that's not usual or anything, most people around here aren't ectocontaminated at all. But our year had this whole thing with a bunch of ghost bugs that bit everyone and gave us ghost powers for a few days, so we got it then." She shrugged it off like it wasn't the most batshit insane thing Cory had ever heard. "Uhh... Sam Manson and Tucker Foley have it pretty bad, they got possessed a couple years ago."

"Overshadowed, you mean?" Cory broke in, unable to help himself. The girl rolled her eyes.

"No, idiot, you don't get contaminated from being overshadowed, or loads more would have it. Manson and Foley were possessed. It was freaky."

"What the fuck has been happening in this town," Cory muttered, earning a few snickers from the assembled teenagers.

"Jazz and Danny Fenton have it the worst, though," a blond jock put in, shoving his hands in his pockets to eye them with some distrust still. "Have since we were kids. It was obvious even before we knew what that was. And then Danny had, you know, the accident." All of the other kids nodded, so apparently this accident was big enough that their whole school had heard about it and they didn't feel the need to explain. Or maybe that was just how small Amity Park was. "It was twice as obvious after that."

"The accident?" G asked, which was invasive but fair. Cory also wanted to know what the hell kind of accident resulted in more liminality than Cory had known was possible.

A few of the kids grimaced, more subdued just at the mention.

"Danny got hurt a couple weeks before our freshman year," an Asian kid in a letterman explained quietly. "Super bad lab accident. He got electrocuted when the portal turned on. He was in the hospital for a couple of days and he hasn't really been the same since."

Well. The Fentons had not mentioned that detail, though Cory supposed he should have guessed. (Something about the story rang a bell in the back of his head, but he did his best to ignore it for now.)

G just nodded, brow furrowed. "Has anyone gotten seriously ill since the portal opened?" he asked, returning to the previous topic. "Hypothermia, headache, mood swings. Swelling that's cold to the touch. Internal bleeding, seizures. Bruising or blisters that are unusually green. Anything like that?" The symptoms of ectoplasmic oncosis.

The kids looked at each other again, frowning.

"Not since the beginning," the blonde girl said after a minute. "I think some of the kids at our high school got some of that early on, especially anyone who went to see that weird counselor, Dr. Spectra."

The Hispanic girl nodded. "I remember getting sick," she agreed. "I was super cold and had a migraine for days, and these weird green bruises. But it didn't last that long."

A couple of the other kids chimed in agreement, and G spent a few minutes asking for their names and writing them down.

"The Fentons think that the ambient ectoradiation is helping acclimate us to ectoplasm without actually contaminating people," the blonde girl, Star, added when they were done. "That's why people are really only being affected by specific incidents." It was surreal to hear a Mean Girls-esque high schooler using advanced ectoscience terminology. She shrugged at Cory's look. "The Fentons' lectures are decent when they don't try to talk about actual ghosts. I listen in on most of them and relay anything useful to the rest of our year."

"You're a lifesaver, Star," Kwan said earnestly.

G nodded. "Thank you," he said politely, shutting his notebook. "I may contact some of you for follow-up later."

"Sure." Star studied G for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, pointed out, "You're ectocontaminated too. You sensed it on us, and you've got the eyes." She gestured to her own, which Cory had already noticed reflected light at certain angles.

G tilted his head, startled, and considered her for a moment before nodding. "I'm from Point Pleasant, West Virginia," he explained. "It's got plenty of activity of its own. Nothing like what Amity has, of course."

The kids laughed.

"Obviously," Paulina said. "Nowhere is like Amity."

Fortunately, Cory was almost certain that was true.

The Worst Branch in the Country

The GIW knows Amity Park is a huge fraud. The “most haunted city in the US”, really? They’ve been checking the place out for decades with nary a peep aside from that couple of crazy scientists that moved into town around twenty years prior.

Because of this, the town became a punishment duty. One of their agents causes trouble? They get put in time out and sent to work for a while in Amity Park. Let those idiots chase after pointless rumors while the actually competent agents work with the more important ghosts. The reports back from the town get barely more than a cursory glance before getting tossed in the shredder.

…Which really came back to bite them when ghosts did actually start to show up, and they didn’t realize until after the Amity Park branch had royally screwed up the situation.

Fuck, they really hope this doesn’t start a war.

Optional DPxDC addition: they call in the Justice League Dark for help with negotiation and taking down their rogue members

[beargregor]

wait i'm curious, what makes you say that gregor doesn't like everyone else (if i read that post right)? just curious since i've never seen anyone else say that

i don't necessarily think gregor dislikes everyone else at lcb but i do think that gregor is an incredibly petty person that isn't nearly as close to the rest of the sinners and even outright dislikes some of them cough cough rodya cough cough which a lot of people just Refuse to see because he's as much of a doormat as he is. there's several examples i could get into to try and prove my point however i'll just focus on what i personally think to be the biggest ones.

additionally, this is going to be kind of long, so i'm adding a read more. read more! read it. sorry for being so wordy. i have several diseases.

Pt1. gregor is the type to try and get along at least decently with everyone, especially if he gets a good first impression from them.

this is less a point in favor of gregor's distance w/ the rest of the sinners and more just a contributing factor to it. once again there's several examples i could point to here but i think the most in your face one happened in canto I with yuri, as several people have pointed out. even before gregor comes clean about growing attached to her as quickly as he did because she reminds him of his sister, we get this interaction.

i'll go ahead and make the disclaimer now that i don't necessarily think gregor is the most reliable of narrators, especially when it comes to his feelings and interactions with most people, but from the way he acts when the topic of yuri comes up (and the way we still see him act even all the way up to c7, nearly a whole year after yuri's death) i don't see reason to question his sentiment here. gregor immediately got that aya and yuri were close, potentially even taking note of their traded belts, and went out of his way to get something nice for yuri despite hardly knowing her.

i feel like a lot of people have forgotten as much, especially since it's been so long since c1, but gregor actually spent a good bit of season 1 doing the exact same thing with the other sinners! gregor reads a connection between him and ishmael pretty quickly despite getting off to a rocky start

mostly because gregor can tell that ishmael is pretty sardonic in a very similar way to him. there's been multiple instances where ishmael and gregor have essentially expressed the same sentiment at different moments, most notably gregor's little argument after ishmael got shot with a decay ampule in c4

and ishmael's response to pilot talking about self-sacrifice in c5

i could go ahead and pull up more examples, but in general pm has gone out of their way to show us that gregor and ishmael are pretty similar, so it makes sense for gregor to assume that they're friends, right?

this will be pushpin 1. keep note of this for Later.

ishmael's only the first sinner we see gregor trying to do this with in s1, we also see him try it out with heathcliff, sinclair, and ryoushuu

he's tried to get along with charon, being one of very few sinners that we've seen actually try to establish a connection with her at all

even rodya, despite my insistence that gregor doesn't like her nearly as much as the fandom thinks he does

all of these seem pretty fine and dandy, right? sure it frequently leans towards self-degradation, micromanaging, and commiseration, but gregor can at least be pretty chummy with most of the sinners, can't he?

Pt2. hell's chicken was more than just comic relief guys please

i'm fully aware that this is quite the hot take, but i think hell's chicken deserves a lot more credit for character writing than the fandom gives it. hell's chicken gave us foreshadowing for several events, such as the donqui bloodfiend reveal

heathcliff's distortion in c6 (as well as hong lu's highly speculated distortion at some point in the future)

and ryoushuu and sinclair's continued connection by making him the odd one out on her team

which, hey! that implies something about gregor's odd one out, don quixote, too, doesn't it? yes. yes it does. that's pushpin 2. keep note of that for later.

speaking of pushpins, hey! that's pushpin 1!

splitting into teams is one of the major events in hell's chicken, and most of the sinner's choices are either motivated by very little, backhanded, or motivated primarily by not wanting to be on the opposite leader's side. i didn't include all of the picks, just because i feel like including most of them already gets this across, but i think gregor took one major thing from this: most of the sinners, when push comes to shove, will only side with gregor when they refuse to or can't take his opponent's side.

now, don't get me wrong, i'm fully aware that this is primarily intended to be comedic relief, but when gregor is being described as having his trust broken by ishmael or nearly crying because no one on his team properly sided with him for him, i feel like it's pretty fair to read into this.

something that i think is pretty important to remember in conjunction with this is that we know that gregor is the type to hold a grudge, both from his general attitude towards the G corp soldiers in c1 as well as his continued distaste for vergilius

even beyond the splitting into teams of hell's chicken, the sinners have given gregor plenty of reasons to feel bitter. i feel like this is something people have noticed but haven't really put a finger on, but it's kind of wild just how often the rest of the sinners make gregor the butt of the joke

and sure, we could argue that a fair few of these aren't really made with any ill intent. quite a bit of it could have been meant as harmless teasing, but with gregor being more sensitive than most, it coming from nearly all sides, and as often as it does? yeah, i think he's prone to taking it a bit personally.

Pt3. yes i do still think gregor was the third most important character in canto VII you guys gotta hear me out okay

of course, all of this leads up to the bit of the story i highlighted, doesn't it? c7? i totally get why people haven't really picked up on all the gregor things i did in it, seeing as they were mostly not *directly* said about him or by him.

personally, i think that gregor's distaste for talking about himself on any serious level and thus leading to him getting sort of "sidelined" narratively (which i take issue with that claim, but still. it's effective for getting what i mean across atm) is supposed to lead players to take a deeper look at the times gregor gets held up to other characters and compare and contrast what's being said about them by the matchup. as i showed earlier with his immediate latching onto ishmael, i think this is something gregor himself is at least partially aware of too.

so, that begs the question, who was gregor compared to in canto VII that makes me think it's one of the most critical pieces in understanding his character?

really, i'd like to avoid getting too lost in the analysis of this canto specifically, since i'd like to do a proper post about this later, but i figure i can bury the lede a little before doing it properly.

c7 features several characters being made to perform in sansón's play, acting out the relevant backstory for this segment of the plot. a lot of these characters have rather direct, degrading reasons for playing the roles they do.

outis, a character with an inflated ego who wants her journey to have a purpose, is made to play an aimlessly wandering villager with a single line.

hong lu and ryoushuu, two characters for whom families and the expectations placed upon them are likely going to play a major role, are made to play bloodfiends.

rodya, a character who resents her lot in life and is constantly shown to be eager to leave her destitution behind her and become someone special, is made to play a helpless villager that's too poor to even offer any money to the hero that saves her.

heathcliff, a character that has spent most of his life getting dehumanized by comparing him to beastly animals, is made to play a literal bear whose sole purpose in the plot is to get beat up and then quickly left by the wayside.

sinclair, a character that has two opposed parties essentially treating him as a macguffin to procure for their side, is made to play the character who was arguably the catalyst for this entire canto, not to mention playing a decently major role in ruina.

our star don quixote is made to play her father, the first kindred, but there's someone by their side the entire time, isn't there? don quixote's dear, steadfastly loyal companion. a character which don quixote has tasked themself with getting to come out of their shell?

hello again, pushpin 2.

gregor has been made to play our unreachable star, sancho. someone had to, of course. you can't really tell a story without it's main character, now can you?

now, i should once again give a disclaimer. i am not trying to say that i think adapting what happens to donqui/sancho in c7 to gregor is the road pm is going to take here, not only would that toe a bit past the line of foreshadowing, but it'd also just amount to rehashing that plotline again, which i don't think would make for a particularly exciting story.

what i DO think is that we can take a lot of the things that are said to either directly be the case for sancho and use them to inform how we see gregor.

and god, does playing sancho have some fucking implications for our favorite ossan archetype.

starting off, the earliest moment we get to see of sancho is quite literally her just waiting for death to take her in a pile of ashes.

which, i should remind everyone, is actually pretty damn close to what happens to gregor's literary counterpart at the end of the metamorphosis. gregor samsa experiences one final breaking point that pushes him over the edge and makes him decide to just wait for starvation to take him.

gregor and sancho both consider themselves to no longer be human, something which sancho goes out of her way to highlight repeatedly throughout the canto and gregor is quick to get defensive on her behalf for when outis starts really tearing into her

sancho spends quite a lot of this story denying herself the joys of community and friendship, despite knowing that, even with the rest of the sinners frequently making jokes at her expense and outright insulting her, they were things that she desperately craved.

and, while this is getting into my "outis is a red herring meant to distract us from gregor's eventual betrayal" theorizing, i also think it's worth noting for this discussion that sancho's fellow kindreds, her family, all seem to be under the impression that she dislikes them and ultimately her departure was an act of betrayal

and that, despite gregor being one of LCB's resident mood makers and attempted conflict de-escalators, one of the sinners that's most prone to making appeals to the bonds they've all forged together, only him and faust remained silent during everyone's speech

so yeah, i think there's quite a lot of little details and hints building up to the reveal that gregor's not quite as fond of everyone as he presents himself to be. i do think a lot of this ultimately comes down to gregor getting in the way of his own happiness, similarly to donqui, particularly because he's been frequently portrayed as something of a self fulfilling prophecy, especially by giving him as many christ allegories as they have by way of priest and garden of thorns. gregor is convinced that the rest of the sinners don't like him because he's not convinced anyone could like him, so he convinces himself that he hates them because why should he care if someone that he hates hates him too?

a lot of this ultimately ties back to my personal interpretation of what happens in the metamorphosis as well as my own theories regarding all the times gregor has made weird callbacks and references to lobcorp and ruina, but yeah. i think about this guy and his deeper characterization a fairly normal amount, i think.

to end this off i'll highlight one of my favorite little "gregor is fucking seething and trying so hard to keep it cool" moments, in the credits CG for c7 we see rodya teasing him by drawing a little horse on his window and actively pointing and laughing at it, which gregor really doesn't seem all too pleased about.

i personally think this ties into the other cruel part of sansón forcing gregor to play rocinante, which is the more literal "he's actually just straight up playing rocinante" side of things. gregor was quite literally made to play something less than human, less than even animal really, as he was reduced to nothing more than the shoes don quixote wore as she got to play the leading role. sansón directly makes jokes about gregor being nothing more than shoes in the play twice, which adds to this reading, i think.

this, imo, really plays into the adaptation of the metamorphosis! i've seen a lot of readings for the book that posit that, despite being the protagonist, gregor samsa can't really be considered the main character due to nearly everything he experiences in it being used to further his family's character development at his expense, which i think fits nicely with limbus gregor seemingly having the most said about him through indirect means by holding him up to other characters. also it's rodya carelessly making fun of His Big Major Insecurities™ again like she did in c1 which i always find fun. rodya i love you but god you're the worst.

[impactrueno]

If you don't ship them you need to make that more clear. Some people cannot enjoy your work if you're implanting anything even somewhat romantic or sexual into the comic. Lydia is a child. She will always be a child, it doesn't matter what context you pretend she is an adult in. It is a child being sexual. Even jokes about it can encourage bad behavior from shippers. Please think about this more. You're getting too ship-centric in some of your content and it's triggering for many people who are your fans

?????????

can you please point me to the supposed child being sexual because i seriously have no idea what the hell you're talking about.

nothing about my comic has been romantic or sexual.

in my comic she's a 47 year old mother with a child of her own. because in the sequel, a very middle aged lydia has a child of her own, so i'm referencing that.

i'm just. hmm. i'm trying to understand what you're saying here and i hope you're not implying what i think you're implying so correct me if i'm wrong

are you saying an adult woman with a child is sexually inappropriate because she herself was a child once? or????

[mimipolo]

Hii I was gonna ask if you can do a headcanon about how Nam-gyu acts when he's jealous (and if you do anons can I be the rose🌹?)

Jealous! Nam-gyu x reader headcanons

He's definitely the type to get to stupid amounts of jealousy unprovoked

Anyone that knows how to make my works look prettier please dm tutorials or advice pretty please :^

When this man gets jealous you can easily tell. You're just catching up with one of your friends from uni and he's hovering over your shoulder and squinting at the poor guy like he killed you expecting him to take the hint.

He's standing unnecessarily close to you, his grip on your waist or shoulder constantly tightening as if you'd accidentally trip and fall into the other guys arms.

Actually has the audacity to ask the two of you "Are you done?" mid conversation and you both just share looks of astonishment, looking between yourselves then at him. It's so tense you both just have to laugh it off as he awkwardly walks away saying he hopes to see you around town again.

"Good riddance..."

Is all you hear from behind you and then he's tugging you in the opposite direction, wherevers furthest from that guy. He's pestering you with semi rude comments towards them as you walk away.

"What's his deal anyway?"

"Did he need to talk to you that long."

"He thinks he's all that, arrogant dick."

You roll your eyes and make a show of groaning dramatically at his behaviour to which he blatantly ignores, glad that you're (he's)not talking with them anymore.

It's one thing with people, it's easy for him to have jealousy towards them and even easier to justify himself. But when people aren't the problem is when it gets difficult. You're so dedicated to this pet/hobby/interest of yours and he's wondering why you couldn't obssess yourself with him like that.

You've been working on the same peice for a while now, you estimated that after two or three more days you'd finally be done. What you hadn't recognised was Nam-gyu constantly hovering around you all throughout the project. Offering you tea and asking you to come lie in bed with him, the vulnerability confused you but you just summed it up to being another one of his clingy moments. That's until he finally speaks up, his head resting atop of yours, his hands resting on the back of your chair. If you had taken a moment to glance up you'd see the visible pout frown on his face.

"[Namee]..."

"Hm?"

He lips furrow deeper, you couldn't even answer him, this dumb project you're working on has been occupying every small gap of time you had and leaving none for him, and of course you were oblivious. He liked that about you but damn he had offered you tea??

"You're always hunched over this table, when are ya finally finishing this thing?"

It would've been a normal question, even one of concern if it wasn't for the clear bitterness and irritation that laced his words. This catches your attention and you turn your head towards him a slight sympathetic yet playful look in your eyes.

"Aw, ya miss me Nam?"

"Go to hell."

Tutting disapprovingly at his words, he sucks his teeth in annoyance when he sees the winning grin on your face, you knew he'd eventually cave and start complaining. And so stretching your back you decide to pause your progress for tonight.

"All right then, bed it is."

He huffs like he doesn't care if you do or not but he's already making his way to lie on the bed as you push your chair out, you have to bite your lip in order not to laugh.

Totally the type to be petty, turning on his side when you two are sleeping then regrets it like five seconds after and is turning on his side to lean against you. You don't have to say or do anything.

The most embarassing moment of jealousy he's had was when you were holding one of his new born nephews with the most doting look in your eyes. You asked him why he looked so serious and he said how you should be holding him instead he's just hoping his sister rests up soon.

He's so dumb.

[rekino2114]

Accidentally switching jerseys with the PXG girls

A/n:Blue lock is my current obsession, and I frankly can't wait to get to the requests about it (keep them coming), so I wanted to do more posts in the meantime

Fem!rin itoshi

The exact moment rin entered the female locker room all of the eyes in the room turned to look at her, surprised to see her being late, but just as quickly as they turned towards her they looked away seeing her turquoise eyes glare at all of them.

She took a seat on one of the benches and began to open her bag. No one dared to sit near her or even talk to her, well, everyone except a certain devil girl who just happened to have chosen the spot next to her

"Hey rin-rin, how are you doing today?"

"Shut up"

"So cold, I just wanted to check on you, why were you late anyway?"

"None of your business"

"I bet you were with y/n. He's late too, apparently"

When your name was mentioned, your girlfriend stopped pulling what she needed out of the bag and turned to glare at shidou (I can't think a name for genderbent him)

"I thought I told you it was none of your business pink antenna head"

"Seems like I'm right on the money then, not that I'm surprised he's basically the only thing you care about except for football"

"Do you want me to kick you now or during the match?"

"During the match please~ so you can get a red card and fuck off"

Rin just sighed and started taking off her shirt so she could put her jersey on

"We're going against a bunch of lukewarm NPCs anyway. As far as I'm concerned, y/n and i shouldn't even be here. This is just training for me, that's why we were late"

She finished getting dressed and started walking towards the field, turning to look at shidou when she saw she wasn't moving and staring at her

"What's wrong? You scared? Move it you annoying flashy bug"

"Okayyyyyy Mrs. L/n~"

The younger itoshi froze solid for a second before turning again and staring at her teammate with the deadliest glare she could muster

"What did you just call me, you shitty exploding pest?"

"I mean, that is what's written on your jersey. I knew you hated your last name because of sae, but I didn't know you got married. Congratulations!"

"Eh?"

She quickly took off the jersey what she was wearing and turned it around only to see that not only was it not the number 9, but your last name was written on it too

"We are not married! This is y/n's jersey"

"Oh, what a shame, be sure to give me an invite when you do though~ Oh and invite sae too"

"You two are the last people I'd like to see at my wedding"

"So you are getting married!"

"Shut up! How did this even get here?"

She looked inside the bag again, more closely this time, and found a bunch of your stuff she sighed again and looked back up

"This is y/n's bag. We must have taken each other's by accident when we were meditating together before"

"Wait how did you not know which bag was yours?"

"..............."

"Wait don't tell me. You have matching bags? Oh my God you are so in love!"

Rin turned towards shidou again, this time with a slight blush on her face

"I told you to shut up! I'm gonna give this to y/n now"

"Sure make sure to say hi to your future husband for me"

The blue lock n°1 just glared at her and put your jersey back on to go outside to the guys dressing room.

When she entered the same chilly atmosphere that she had on the other room could be felt here by everyone, except for you who when you saw your girlfriend just smiled and went up to her

"Hey rin, don't worry, I'm still changing we'll be out shortly"

Her gaze softened when it landed on you but immediately went back to her cold glare when she looked back at everyone else

"Turn around or I'll kill you"

Out of fear all of the male members of PXG did as she said and when she saw that rin started to take off your jersey again

"W-wait rin what are you-"

"This is yours"

".........Eh?"

"The one you're wearing is mine"

She held out the shirt to you as you looked at your own

"Oh yeah I guess you're right sorry"

"It's fine, I didn't notice it either, now take it off"

"Yep!"

You did as she told you as rin looked at you (her eyes locked a bit too much on your muscles) and blushed slightly but looked away to hide it

"Here you go!"

She took the jersey from your hands and gave you yours, now you started dressing at the same time

"Sorry again about that, I should have checked it"

"I already told you it's fine, plus I didn't mind it that much"

"Hm? Why?"

"No reason, let's go now, the other team is waiting"

"Ok"

You started walking outside, and rin looked back at your smile and beautiful face for a bit......maybe in the future, she wouldn't mind actually having your last name

Fem!shidou ryusei

Rin stood with her arms crossed in the dressing room. She sighed and tapped her foot as she got increasingly angry

"If she's this late again I'm telling Loki to play without her"

She finally opened her eyes when she heard the door open and shidou come out of it

"Yo!"

Her cheery smile quickly morphed into a look of confusion when she looked around the room, noticing that all of the girls were still there

"The match didn't start yet?"

"It didn't start because you weren't here idiot"

"Pffft how boring"

She threw her bag on the bench and started opening it carelessly

"And I thought me and y/n could hang out a little more"

"Some of us take our football careers seriously, and showing up on time is a part of that"

"Hey I'll have you know i take football very seriously!"

"Half of the things you say during matches would disagree"

"It's just because i get reeaaaaaaly excited about it, and also, y/n is there. How do you expect me to focus when the handsomest guy ever is just standing in the middle of the field? It takes all my strength not to start making out sloppy style with him when he scores"

Rin felt like gagging after the image that shidou put in her mind but she resisted the urge and ended up just rolling her eyes

"Then maybe we should take him off the team"

Her remark was met with shidou's shirt flying in her face, making a visible tick mark appear on it

"No way! If you take him off then I'm leaving too!"

She took off the clothes from her face and was met with shidou finally dressed in her jersey

"I was joking, also don't throw your dirty clothes in my face"

"Wow~ I didn't know you had a sense of humor. Also, it's not dirty, I take very good care of myself and my clothing you know? It's one of the many things y/n loves about me"

"Whatever, let's just go"

"Wait, serious question, is it just me, or does the jersey feel tighter today?....not that I mind, maybe my curves grew even more~"

"........oh my God, you're even more of an idiot than I thought"

"What? You jealous"

"That's not your jersey"

".........what?"

"Y/n's last name is on it. It's not even your number, how did you not notice?"

The devil girl took off the jersey she was wearing and looked at the back

"Oh yeah it is"

"Dumbass"

"Whatever I'm gonna keep it"

"Why?"

"It's a nice touch. That way, anyone can see me and y/n are a couple"

"With what you do on the field I'm sure everyone already knows, go give it back to him and take yours back"

"You're no fun bottom eyelashes, I knew you didn't have a sense of humor"

"Just go"

"Okaaaaaayyyyy~"

"And don't flash anyone!"

"Y/n doesn't count right?"

"Go!"

Shidou stuck her tongue out at rin and went with her arms over her head. When she reached the men's locker room she entered and immediately hugged you

"Hiiiiiiii babe"

"O-oh hey shidou, what's up?"

"We might have a little bit of an issue"

"What?"

"We switched jerseys"

".......did we?"

"Yep, look!"

She turned around (giving you a nice view and winking in the meantime), and you saw that her jersey was actually yours, with your number and last name on it

"Oh yeah it is, sorry"

"Don't worry, to be honest, I wanted to keep it like this, but that bottom eyelashes jerk said we had to change"

"Oh"

You took off the jersey as shidou's eyes immediately drifted all over your body while she was licking her lips

"Looking good handsome!"

You blushed but thanked her and gave her the jersey

"Thank youuuu"

She kissed your cheek and was about to take her own shirt off when she was that everyone was looking at her

"Hey, you extras! Close your eyes before I rip them off myself. There's only one guy who can see me, and he's right here"

The guys did as she said and she continued undressing and dressing in her own jersey while you tried your best to look away

"OK now that that's taken care of"

She wrapped one arm around you and kissed your cheek again

"Let's go destroy these fuckers!"

"Heck yeah!"

You two kissed briefly and started walking towards the field still side hugging each other while rin glared at you from the other side

Fem!Charles chevalier

Charlotte ran quickly through the hallway of the stadium's interior until she reached the door of the girls' dressing room that she opened and walked inside

"Waaaaaaait, I'm here! Don't start without me! 👿"

"About time"

"Pardon~ me and y/n were having breakfast and lost track of time just don't tell loki"

"I don't care what you and your boyfriend do, just show up on time"

"I mean, this is what happens when we have a match so early. You can't expect me to wake up this early👿"

"Just shut up and get dressed"

"OK egoist!"

She went over to a bench and started doing as rin said. When she was fully dressed, she went behind the striker and tried to fist bump her, which she coldly refused

"👿"

Suddenly a knock was heard on the door, everyone turned towards it as rin spoke

"Who is it?"

"It's y/n, I have something to give Charlotte"

Rin rolled her eyes but gave you the ok to come as Charlotte smiled widely at your presence, a smile that grew even wider when she saw that you were shirtless

"Y/n~😈"

"What is it?"

"I have Charlotte's jersey here"

"Hm but she's wearing-"

When rin turned towards the midfielder she saw she was sweating and when she looked at the back of her jersey she understood why

"..........you took the wrong jersey?"

"Sorry, it must have been because we were in a hurry, pardon, pardon👿!"

"It's fine, just get yours now"

She walked towards you and looked at you still with that wide smile of hers showing off her fangs

"Here you go"

You handed her the jersey and she took it"

"Merci😈"

You turned around as she started changing again she called you when she finished and gave you your own jersey which you started to put on immediately

"........why are you looking at me like that? You're not mad at me, are you?"

"I mean.....this is kind of your fault"

"I'm sorry it was an accident, I already apologized like 4 times"

".....yeah but-"

"😈"

".........fine I can't stay stay mad at you when you're like that"

"Thank you😈"

She immediately went to hug you as you hugged back. When you pulled back, she pouted a bit but started following you outside

"But you're gonna have to give me a lot of good passes to apologize ok"

"Don't I already do that~😈"

"Yeah you do"

"Then don't worry, those passes are gonna be amazing"

"Just remembere to grab your own stuff next time, ok contrarian?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know sorry, don't worry there's not gonna be a next time😈......probably"

You sighed but held her hand and walked outside with her

[meazalykov]

triple shot latte

catarina macario x reader requested

summary: you started to fall in love with the regular at your job

the hum of the espresso machine is something you hear a million times each morning. 

mornings in the cafe are a blend of warm chatter, the soft rustle of newspapers, clicking on the macbooks, and the rhythmic clink of ceramic mugs. you’ve been working here for years, since you were barely out of high school. 

honestly, it’s not just a job to you; it’s a home. the owners, a kind couple in their fifties, treat you like family and pay you well. they’ve often told you that you’re the heart of the place… maybe they’re right.

you know the regulars by name, their orders a second nature to you. 

however, no one catches your attention quite like catarina.

she first walked into the shop six months ago. there was nothing particularly striking about her entrance.. no dramatic flair, no loud greeting. she simply strolled in, wearing a hoodie and joggers, her dark curly hair with blonde highlights tied back in a low ponytail. 

yet, somehow, she stood out. maybe it was the way she carried herself, calm and confident, or the ease in her movements. 

she stepped up to the counter, her voice soft but clear, with the unmistakable lilt of an american accent. 

“can i get a triple espresso latte, please?”

“sure thing,” you replied, focusing on your task to avoid staring. you couldn’t help noticing how her eyes scanned the menu, even though she seemed to know exactly what she wanted. when you handed her the drink, she added two raw sugar packets at the condiment station, stirring them in with a thoughtful, almost precise motion.

from that day on, she became a regular… the american’s order never changed, and neither did the way she seemed to take her time, like the world outside the shop didn’t rush her. you started making her drink before she even reached the counter, always aiming to have it ready the moment she paid. 

it wasn’t just a job anymore where you are serving a customer; it was a quiet ritual you looked forward to every morning while seeing your slowly developed attraction for a woman you barely know.

it took her a while to notice you, though… like.. really notice you. for weeks, it was just polite smiles and the occasional “thanks.” 

one day, as you handed her the latte, she lingered by the counter.

“you’re always here,” she said, her tone warm and teasing. 

“do you ever get a day off?”

you laughed softly, surprised by the question. 

“i don’t mind it. it keeps me busy.”

“well, you must really love coffee, then, i don’t blame you because this stuff is very good,” she said, her lips curving into a slight smile.

“it’s not bad,” you replied, a little shy under her gaze. 

“but i think i like the people more.”

cat’s eyebrows lifted slightly, and she tilted her head. 

“good answer.”

after that, she started talking to you more. at first, it was just casual questions…how your morning was going, if the early morning had been busy. 

over time, her curiosity about you grew.

“so, what do you do when you’re not here?” she asked one morning, leaning slightly over the counter as she stirred her latte.

“i do a bit of pottery and art or take care of my home ,” you said, trying to sound casual, though the attention made your pulse quicken. 

“ha– the pottery stuff is just a hobby.”

“pottery?” she repeated, her interest clear. 

“that’s cool. what kind of stuff do you make?”

“mostly small things. mugs, bowls, vases. nothing fancy,” you said, wiping the counter even though it was already spotless.

“i doubt that,” she said with a grin. 

“you should bring something in. i’d love to see it.”

“maybe,” you said, unsure if you’d actually follow through. the idea of her looking at something you’d made felt both exciting and nerve-wracking.

you wanted to know more about her, too. where she worked, what brought her to london, what she did with her time. 

however, she always steered the conversations back to you, her questions thoughtful and specific. it wasn’t until weeks later, in a quiet moment, that you finally asked her something personal.

“so, what do you do?” you asked, trying not to sound too eager.

she hesitated for a beat, then smiled. 

“i work in sports.”

“oh, like coaching?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“no, not coaching,” she said, her smile widening. 

“i play.”

“let me guess…you’re a footballer?” you asked, joking before a look of surprise spread on your face after seeing catarina nodding her head.

“something like that,” she said, her tone light and nonchalant. 

“nothing too exciting.”

you wanted to press for more details but didn’t want to push. still, the revelation stayed with you, making you wonder how you hadn’t guessed. there was an effortless athleticism in the way she moved around the cafe at times, a quiet confidence that hinted at a world beyond your little shop. how did you not notice before?

even after learning she was a footballer, she didn’t change. she still came in nearly every morning, still asked about your pottery, still made you feel like the only person in the room when she looked at you. 

and you? you kept making her lattes, savoring those three to five minutes that had become the best part of your day.

the routine with cat had become a comforting rhythm in your life. every morning, like clockwork at eight am, she walked through the door, her curly ponytail swinging as she gave you that familiar, easy smile. without a word, you’d already be making her triple-shot latte, pairing it with her spinach sandwich as if by instinct.

over the months, she became more than just a customer. she was… something closer to a friend, though it didn’t quite feel like the right word. there was a certain spark, a teasing energy in the way she complimented you almost every day. 

“you’re the reason my mornings are bearable before training,” she’d say, her tone was always light, but her light gaze lingered, warm and intent, leaving you flustered.

your conversations never stretched far…five minutes, give or take, before she left to live her life, and you stayed behind the counter, living yours. still, those minutes meant more to you than you’d ever admit out loud. 

sometimes, when you cleaned up after the rush or had a rare moment to yourself, you’d wonder if you’d ever get to see her outside the shop. it felt like a silly thought, one you tried to shake off. 

cat seemed larger than life, someone with a world you couldn’t imagine being part of.

a week after those thoughts started to take root, she caught you off guard.

“do you watch football?” she asked one morning, leaning casually against the counter as you slid her latte toward her.

you blinked, surprised. 

“uh, no, not really,” you admitted, cringing internally. 

“sorry if that’s disappointing.”

she laughed softly, her smile easy. 

“not at all. it’s actually refreshing.”

you raised an eyebrow. 

“refreshing?”

“yeah,” she said, her fingers brushing over the cup. 

“you’re one of the only people in my life who doesn’t just see me as a footballer or a machine. it’s… nice.”

cat’s words hung in the air, heavier than the usual banter. before you could respond, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small envelope, sliding it across the counter toward you.

“what’s this?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

“a ticket,” she said, her voice light but her eyes steady on yours. 

“chelsea versus arsenal. tonight.”

you stared at the envelope, your heart thudding. 

“wait… you want me to come?”

“of course,” she said, her tone almost teasing. 

“i’d love to see your beautiful self there.”

your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head slightly, trying to hide the flush creeping across your face. 

“cat…” you started, but words failed you. all you could do was nod, clutching the envelope like it might disappear.

“good,” she said, her smile widening as she picked up her sandwich and latte. 

“i’ll be looking for you.”

she left before you could overthink the situation, her words replaying in your mind on a loop. 

your beautiful self. 

when you got home that evening, you spent far too long picking out what to wear. cat had only ever seen you in your work apron, your hair tied back in a practical ponytail. now, she’d see you outside that setting, and the thought was both thrilling and terrifying. 

eventually, you settled on something simple but nice…a pair of levi jeans, a cozy brown cashmere sweater, and boots that made you feel just a little more confident.

walking into the stadium was surreal. the energy was nothing you are used to, the crowd a sea of blue and red. 

you found your seat, the ticket guiding you to a section with a surprisingly great view of the pitch. when the teams came out, your eyes immediately searched for her. and there she was.. catarina in the starting lineup, standing tall and composed in her chelsea pink and black away kit. 

it was like seeing a completely different side of her, one you’d never glimpsed in the cafe.

suddenly.. as if sensing you, she looked up toward the stands. her eyes scanned the crowd briefly before landing on you. a grin spread across her face, small but unmistakable. 

she lifted her hand in a subtle wave before blowing a kiss, and you couldn’t help but wave back blushing, your heart hammering in your chest.

for the next ninety minutes, you watched her in awe, barely noticing the game’s score or the crowd’s roaring cheers. catarina was incredible.. graceful, powerful, and fast. 

sometime during the second half, you were having a ton of fun watching the game. you could get used to this. you took a moment and realized just how much she meant to you, and maybe, just maybe, how much you meant to her.

after the game, you hesitated by the section entrance, unsure if you should wait or leave. before you could decide, a staff member approached you, confirming your name and motioning for you to follow them. 

your nerves kicked into overdrive as they led you down a hallway, eventually guiding you outside the players’ tunnel along with all of the other friends and family.

then, there she was. catarina emerged, her hair damp from the shower, a chelsea jacket draped over her shoulders. when her eyes landed on you, her entire face lit up. 

she jogged toward you, and before you knew it, you were wrapped in a tight hug, her arms pulling you close.

“you were amazing!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled slightly against her shoulder. 

“two goals! you totally crushed it.”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, her grin wide and genuine. 

“thank you, y/n.”

before you could reply, another voice cut in. 

“oh, come on, cat. you scored two just to show off for her. she is beautiful, but damn cat you are whipped!”

you turned to see a girl about your age…maybe a year younger..standing nearby, smirking. she was wearing her chelsea gear, clearly another player, though her teasing demeanor gave her away as someone close to catarina.

cat groaned, rolling her eyes. 

“ignore lauren,” she said, giving the girl a gentle shove. 

“she’s annoying.”

so that was her name. lauren. you couldn’t help but laugh softly at their dynamic, the tension in your chest easing as you realized how natural everything felt.

“nice to meet you, lauren,” you said, your tone light and amused.

“you too,” lauren said with a wink before jogging off, leaving you alone with catarina again.

cat glanced down at her hands, rubbing them together to ward off the cold. without thinking, you slipped off your gloves and took her hands in yours, your warmth spreading over her chilled skin.

“your hands are freezing,” you said softly, rubbing them gently. 

“you should’ve worn thicker gloves.”

cat’s gaze softened as she watched you, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“you’re always taking care of me, even outside the cafe.”

you felt your cheeks heat up, but before you could respond, she added, “and by the way, you look beautiful at work, but out here?” she paused, letting her eyes roam over you appreciatively. 

“you look beautiful.”

you giggled, ducking your head slightly to hide your blush. 

“thanks. you’re not so bad yourself.”

she grinned, her expression turning playful. 

“so, will i see you tomorrow morning at the cafe?”

your smile faltered slightly, and you shook your head. 

“actually, i’ve got a few days off starting tomorrow.”

“perfect,” she said without missing a beat. 

“i’m off tomorrow too.”

you blinked, caught off guard by her sudden enthusiasm. 

“oh?”

“yeah,” she said, her grin widening. 

“so, since neither of us has work, i think we should spend the day together.”

your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile.

 “i’d like that.” 

“good,” she said, her voice soft but certain. 

“then it’s a plan.” 

masterlist