#so glad i will never have to be 15 years old ever again

[anishenanigans]

[WIP] i have once again accidentally stayed up until 3 a.m working on art

[stabbingandorbeingstabbed]

i need to run away from home i need to move to a city and meet people who get it and i need to get my tits cut off for realsies this time like i've had enough actually. for the love of god

[bee-wg]

PROLOGUE:

Our family isn’t too big. Ever since my grandparents moved to their cottage by the lake, It's just been the three of us. I don't even bring my teammates or friends home. And all the peacefulness is about to change. 

“Ahh Shit- Sorry!” the fumbling buffoon said. 

“Language, sweetheart. David! Could you help him pick it up? I'm tidying up the kitchen,” My mom replied. 

“Coming!” My dad sprints down the stairs. 

“Oh, Pumpkin, you're all grown up! Are you prepared for the semester?” Dad gestured to the culinary tools scattered across the floor. 

“Yes, of course. Sorry about the mess,” he replied. The “Pumpkin” in question is my cousin, Theo. He's about to attend a college in the city to study culinary arts… or something. And, of course, he’s sharing the room with me. Not for long, though. I have a few buddies who have invited me to share a room with them. They reek, but it's a necessary evil. 

“Jay,” my dad asked, nudging me, “Remember when you guys used to play house together every summer?” 

“Yes, then he bit me and we never talked again,” I deadpanned. 

“Oh come on, he was just a kid,” Dad retorted. 

No, he wasn't. He was a little demon that stole my pretend credit card. My hand still itches thinking about that vicious attack. 

I put down Theo’s luggage and bit back the argument. “I'll go back to the car to see what’s left.” 

“Alright bud, thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” He could probably thank me by asking what happened at football camp, but what do I know? It's not like we haven't talked about football the entire summer. We could be doing that right now, on the deck with some ice-cold beer. But the twinky little “Pumpkin” needs help, and I have the muscle for it. 

God, I wish the summer was over already.

***

“Hahahaha Exactly! I have never seen Chloé like that before.” Dad laughed.

“Right? Who knew mom had sass in her.”

Mom's competitiveness was kicked off by Theo's presence. The kitchen has basically been a war zone for the past two weeks.

Looking down at my watch, the light flashes on.

6 kilometres down, 5 more to go.

It’s been a while since I’ve had a good morning run with Dad like this one. The ocean breeze flowing past my hair and the faint rays of sunrise brought back some old memories. 

Regulating my breathing, we slowed down for a second.

“Damn, son - your stamina has gotten so much better this past year.”

“The football camp really made you put up 20 pounds of pure muscles too, I’m glad I recommended you there.” Dad beamed proudly at me.

“You’re not too bad yourself, for an aging old man.”

I still get the same rush every time he compliments me. It’s like a reassurance that I’m doing something right.

“Hahahaha, you won’t be saying that when you’re one foot in your 40s; it’s basically death by fossilization.”

Dad has always been modest with his body, but everyone who knows him either admires his body, wants him, or is jealous of him and I am the same. Ever since high school I’ve been inspired to be like him. Even with the 15 pounds of muscle I have over him, I’m still lacking in so many ways. He just has the confidence to own it.

“Want some water?”

“Oh, right, of course. Thanks.” I took over the ice-cold bottle.

“About that training camp, I should request the school board to have the team register next summer for the training course. High school kids these days don't care about sports as much no more.” Dad said

“Speaking of which, remember your friend Lancaster who got held back for two years?”

“Yeah, Avery. He used to scold me when I didn’t take the nutrition classes with him. Haven’t hung with him in a while though.”

“Well, he probably won’t scold anymore. The kid got too cocky after getting a full sports scholarship and gained 70 pounds of fat in the summer. The university probably revoked the funds. Hope he didn't take it too hard.”

“Shit, that’s awful. I didn’t expect it to be him out of anyone. He was a damn good receiver.”

We resumed the pace, avoiding some rogue cyclists on the way.

Crazy to think the weight could creep up on Avery Lancaster of all people. I should watch out for myself too. I have good genes from dad so it probably will never happen, but the new influx of delicious food from Theo and my mom’s little competition definitely doesn’t help. At least it keeps the brat out of my room.

“Dad, I think I’m not going to move in with Brad and the guys.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” 

“Well first of all, as much as I love them, the guys stinks. Second of all, Theo is not as much of a blood-sucking gremlin as he was before. And I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye to you guys.”

“Plus, How can I leave when the thing with mom just got interesting.”

“Staying for the family drama, huh?” He chuckled.

“We’re happy to have you for as long as you want, Jay. Truth be told, your mom has been crying about it for weeks. We’re both not ready to say goodbye too.”

“Tell you what, Chloe and Theo probably have some fancy lasagnas waiting for us back home; let's cut through the forest and head back early to celebrate.” He said, practically drooling.

“Lasagnas for breakfast?”

“Wait, You just want the Lasagnas. Don’t you?”

“Hahaha, Maybe.”

“Well, don’t get too drawn in, or you’ll end up as Hansel in the candy house.” 

He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

That would be funny to imagine though, cause Dad is anything but a glutton.

Chapter 1 ->

[robintherobiner]

i know the fandom likes to make Jack out to be a terrible dad but i personally enjoy to imagine him as a man who's just not that smart, but tries his best.

Tim, like six years old, angry that he wasn't allowed desert before dinner: I hate you! I wish lived on my own and never saw you or Mommy again!

Jack, tearing up and booking flight tickets: Okay kiddo, love you.

Janet, giving birth: AAAAARGH. LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME, YOU COWARDLY BITCH. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO WANTS A BABY SO BAD, YOU SHOULD BE GIVING BIRTH!

Jack, tearing up and booking gender reassignment surgery: Okay darling, love you.

Nurse, glancing at his phone: You.. you know that surgery wont make you able to carry a child right?

Jack: Yes it will, it gives me a vagina!

Nurse: ...you know you need a uterus to actually carry the baby right?

Jack: What the fuck is a uterus? WAIT I CAN SEE THE BABYS HEAD OH MY GOSH JANET DEAR YOU'RE DOING SO WELL!

Tim, age 15: Dad, i'm glad you're trying to be better now but... Why did you and mom neglect me for so long?

Jack: You told us too! I wanted to raise you, i was a stay at home dad, but you said i was horrible and that you wanted to live on your own!

Tim: ...

Jack: Obviously that was irresponsible so we sent you to boarding school, but we only visited a few times a year to respect your boundaries. I would send you back, but I was in a coma so i'm allowed to be a little selfish and spend time with my baby.

Dick: Didn't your dad just wake up from a coma? And he's already got a girlfriend? No offense but-

Tim: My mom told him to.

Dick: Timmy, sometimes men lie-

Tim: No, literally, it was in her will. She literally told him that if she died first, he had to get a new partner, because she knew he'd die alone without her.

Dick: What...

Tim: Also, i was the one who chose Dana. She's great! Mom said I had to pick a blonde because yellow is his favourite colour.

Tim: Dad, why is the only picture of Mom you have framed one of her in a bikini? Do you not have any others?

Jack: I do, i have hundreds! But this was taken on the day she proposed to me! Well, i have more from that day, but they're not safe for little eyes.

Tim: Thats both the most romantic and disgusting thing i've ever heard.

Jack, puling out a picture of Janet sobbing and very obviously screaming: I have this picture of her on my bedside table though, its from when she found out she was pregnant with you! Two of the best days of my life!

[divorceblogger]

I think the most difficult thing that armand struggles to come to terms with (re: his feelings about marius) is very much that marius seemingly steps into his life and performs actions that are, at a superficial glance, meant to be liberatory or empowering but are unequivocally very predatory if you start to dig into the meat of their relationship.

Marius rescues armand from starvation and sexual slavery at a point in his life when armand is actively entertaining thoughts of suicide. marius sweeps in, purchases him, and transfers him from abhorrent conditions of existence to a life of material comfort, although it’s not really a safe one, but at this point armand doesn’t necessarily have the ability to have a critical dialogue about safety with himself because he’s so glad to be rescued from slavery that he ascribes divinity to marius. he also receives an allowance and he’s taught swordplay. he’s taught swordplay. but what kind of harm could a child ever cause to a 1500 year old vampire?

And the material reality is that marius is not really interested in empowering armand at all. he actively fosters an unhealthy codependency between them, he withholds information about his nature, he performs sexual acts on him even when armand doesn’t necessarily comprehend that these acts are sexual in nature. he also strategises methods that he reasons are supposed to sexually liberate armand but these instances just contribute to the overall conversation on how he grooms him. armand is 15 years old when marius sends him out to brothels “to learn how to couple properly”. do you remember that he was supposed to be forced into prostitution. marius now offers him the illusion of sexual power by allowing him to experience sexual pleasure instead of offering it to predatory customers instead. but armand also says that he doesn’t enjoy the experiences at the brothels because he craves sexual relations with marius solely, to a point where he feels resentful about being asked to participate in these acts even when he derives sexual pleasure from them. he endures the experiences because his master gives him no other choice, but it’s also in these brothels that he discovers that sex doesn’t have to be associated with pain as it often tends to be with marius.

When he returns ‘home’ from the brothels he’s perceptive enough to understand that marius really sent him to receive a sexual education on marius’s behalf and attempts to replicate these acts on him. he unconsciously takes up the role of a sex worker, but again he’s a child, and it’s horrifying that he thinks he’s harassing marius by initiating sexual relations with him. it’s also not very surprising that when he does display sexual interest in other people marius emotionally shuts him off (because these experiences were never instituted with armand’s interest in mind) and these moments shape up to be very harrowing experiences for armand - he’s been taught to crave marius’s affection and never do anything that might displease him. armand often has to beg his way back into marius’s good graces and allow himself to be subjected to corporal punishment to achieve this. it’s terrifying that one of the first ideas the boys in the villa convey to armand despite the language barrier is that their master will never hurt him.

And the alarming fact about armand’s transformation is that vampirism serves to just further reinforce this abuse, even though, once again, it might seem like an empowering act. his newly acquired powers don’t change his reality - he’s still under marius’s control the whole time. he’s also further isolated from boys his age who share his interests, and his nights with marius are insular and suffocating. the corporal punishments continue. they’re now adjusted to account for his vampirism. “usual brain jarring blow” is a term floated in the book. marius calls armand’s coffin a “crib”. he very seriously asks armand if he’s ever been cruel to him soon after he transforms him. armand’s codependency with marius is in fact further reinforced by the vampiric transformation that marius carries out. so much of armand’s initiation into vampirsm is once again rooted in sexual instruction, once again evoking patterns of behaviour that are associated with grooming. it’s very in-character for marius to teach him the fundamental principles of seducing his victims before killing them. he also advices him to develop emotionally frigid relationships and never reveal his true self to the people he cares for, further establishing marius as the most significant figure in his life, as the person he constructs his entire identity around. how was he ever supposed to turn out well-adjusted?

[verlierer-is-lost]

Never thought I would EVER make another dsmp post again… yet here we are. Another CC ends up being an abuser.

I think it’s most disappointing to me because it’s Wilbur, the only streamer I actually gave most of my attention(and money) to. It doesn’t really matter tho, at the end of the day I’m just glad that Shubble had the courage to come out and talk about what she went through. It means a lot to me.

I don’t watch Shubble’s content, so I don’t know much about her. But I do personally understand how hard it is to talk about this kind of stuff. I fully support her and hope she’s doing well.

With all that being said, perhaps it is time for Content Creators to stop being “friends” with minors ‼️ because oh my god the amount of literal children that were around that man these past few years is actually horrifying. Ik Bilzo has already talked about his own experience, but I can’t even begin to imagine how many others felt unsafe around Wilbur. Tommy obviously hasn’t said anything, and I don’t expect him to. He’s known Wilbur since he was 15 years old, they’re practically brothers. Since he has a lot influence on Tommy, I have absolutely no idea how things might turn out from here. The more I look into this, the more I realize how badly Tommy has been treated. While I feel for Shubble, I also sympathize with any of the teens who were also affected.

I have more to say, but this whole situation has been triggering so I’m gonna leave it at that. Plus I don’t wanna take away anymore attention from Shelby by talking about other streamers.

Anyway, always support victims 🫶🏽

[raapija]

hi! as a prompt for pookie au (which i love), how do you think carlos would react to finding out his dad is dating LANCE of all people? would he be immediately freaking out or would he hold it in and rant to charles about it later?

Thank you for the prompt. <3

(Carlos and Charles hadn't yet met, as this is set in 2018.)

summary: Lance talks with Carlos for the first time after Lance and Fernando told him they were dating. Also some strollonso fluff to balance it out.

warnings: some swearing, Carlos being extremely mean to Lance

Lance fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie. He could feel his ears burning as Carlos stared at him from the other side of the patio table. The cool evening air made his skin tingle.

"Why?" he heard Carlos ask after what had felt like 15 minutes of silence. Lance had sat down with him after having dinner with Fernando. It was the first time they told Carlos that they were together. Lando or Oscar probably would've blurted it out at some point, but it was definitely easier to tell him like this.

"What?" Lance asked for him to clarify what exactly he meant by 'why?.' He couldn't really look at Carlos, because he knew he was staring daggers back at him. They had been racing together for years, but had never really became friends or spent time together. Carlos was also a couple years older than him and had always been kind of intimidating to Lance. Something about those dark brown eyes.

"Why my dad? Of all people, why him?" Carlos continued his questioning. Now Lance looked at him and his heart skipped a few beats as he saw the expression on Carlos' face. Contempt.

"I love him."

Carlos scoffed and Lance felt something inside him shift. He straightened in his seat and took a deep breath. He wasn't going to give in.

"Listen," he started. "I really do like him. I know it's fucking weird that he's older and you're older than me, but so what? We like each other. It's not just some fling. He's done a lot for me and I for him. I love him."

Carlos studied him from across the table. The longer he didn't say anything, the faster Lance's heart beat. Adrenaline rushing in his veins as if he was on a race track, trying to overtake him at a high-speed corner. In the end, it was Carlos who averted his eyes to look away.

"If you break his heart, I'll kill you." Carlos said and Lance breathed out. His face was serious. "I've seen what it's like for him, and I don't want to see that again, ever. So don't you dare."

"I won't hurt him. I promise." Lance said and Carlos' eyes moved back to focus on him.

"You promise?" he chuckled, now sounding condescending. "That's what the last guy said as well. And then he left him."

Lance's heart was about to burst out of his chest. Maybe he couldn't overtake in the corner and instead would crash into the wall.

"My dad gave everything to me. He gave me a chance when no one else would. He doesn't deserve you. He's got all he needs in me and my brothers. He loves us. Not you. " Carlos said, his words cutting right through Lance like little knives. It made his throat turn dry. "You understand?"

"I do." Lance got out. Carlos' chair dragged painfully on the tile flooring of the patio when he stood up to leave. As he walked past Lance, he gave him a strong pat on the shoulder and made Lance flinch. Crashed, in the wall. Game over.

"I'll be watching you." Carlos said and then stepped back into the house, leaving him alone. Lance breathed out and a flood of emotions ran through him as he relaxed. He was 20. Just barely got into F1 and immediately started dating a 37 year-old with three grown kids. This really did sound like some sort of a breakdown if you looked at it from the outside. Still, he was glad the only person at his throat was Carlos and not the media. Only a few people knew, and that was for the best. He had enough on his plate as a 'pay-driver'.

¬

Later that night, Lance was laying in bed, deep under the covers and waiting for Fernando to join him. He had been in this bed countless times before, but the idea of Carlos lurking somewhere in the same house made him uneasy.

He could finally hear Fernando's familiar footsteps climbing up the staircase to the second floor where the bedroom was. As soon as he stepped into the room, Lance's mind stopped racing.

"You okay?" the Spaniard asked as he sat down on the other side of the bed from Lance. He must've sensed Lance's anxiety all the way from downstairs.

"Yeah. Talked to Carlos." Lance said and turned onto his side so he could see Fernando better. The older man laid his watch and jewelry from his wrists on the bedside table and the slid under the covers. They were both facing each other and Lance scooted a little closed so Fernando could wrap an arm around him.

"How it go? Not too scary, I hope." Fernando's voice was soothing and Lance settled against his chest, warm skin touching his forehead. He felt Fernando press little kisses into his hair on the top of his head.

"He only threatened to kill me, so not that bad." Lance said and Fernando laughed. Him laughing made it feel a bit better, like he wasn't actually going to get beat up if he made one mistake.

"That's my Carlito." Fernando hummed and squeezed Lance a little closer to him, slowly running his hand up and down his back. "Don't worry about him. He likes to pretend he's tougher than he is."

"He told me someone broke your heart before so he didn't want me to repeat that." Lance said and Fernando's hand stopped moving.

Lance heard a quiet 'oh...' and wriggled back a bit to look at him. Fernando's eyes were sad. Lance didn't like that.

"I'm sorry."

"No, no." Fernando hurried to stop him from apologizing. He moved his hand up and set it on Lance's cheek. "That's nothing. History. I got you now, so it's okay."

"Yeah?" Lance asked and Fernando gently tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear. The Spaniard smiled at him, his eyes back to normal and happy. The things Carlos had said still irked at the back of Lance's brain, but he didn't press on it.

"You fix me." Fernando said and moved in to kiss Lance on the forehead. He then pulled him close again and held his arm tight around him. "I talk with Carlito tomorrow. Tell him to be nice to you."

Lance hummed and could already feel himself falling asleep. It felt so safe with Fernando. Strong arms holding onto him and his warmth transferring into him. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

[tobysbliss]

like old times

lee!blitzø, ler!fizzarolli :)

i love them so much i am so glad theyre friends again actually. theyre besties and i love them. this was not proof read so if theres mistakes then OOPS !! (haha u get the reference ? get it ?? cause. cause oops is a helluva boss episode. and its the one where fizz and blitzø made up. haha. yeah)

this fic is intended to be viewed as platonic.

N$FW BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS POST OR MY BLOG!

Blitzø would never admit it aloud, but he couldn’t be happier that him and Fizzarolli are friends again. It felt like a piece of him had gone missing, then found it’s way back to him.

Blitzø decided to have him and the I.M.P team take a day off, allowing them to do as they please for entertainment that day. And for Blitzø, that meant inviting Fizzarolli over.

The jester admittedly was confused, but honestly, so was Blitzø. How was he even supposed to word that message? “Hey, wanna hangout?” It sounded odd to him, at least since it had been, what, 15 years?

Or maybe he was just really, really socially awkward.

He settled for calling Fizz and, very awkwardly, inviting him over with strings of words that just barely made sense; Something Fizz fully intended on teasing Blitzø for later.

.

.

.

Fizz barged into the door of the I.M.P headquarters, making a strong entrance as always. Blitzø nearly flipped out of his chair.

“You invited me to where you work, really?” Fizz looked around as if unimpressed. “Do you ever leave this place?”

Blitzø blinked. He does, but he lives in a raggedy old apartment, shared with Loona. He invited Fizz over to the I.M.P Headquarters both because he was embarrassed about the apartment, and he didn’t want to disturb Loona.

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I just wanted to catch up since it’s been, what, fifteen years now? And the last time we did get to talk about life, we were dealing with a bunch of psycho’s trying to kill us..”

“Oh, so you can explain your reasoning here, but not on the phone, huh?” Fizz smirked, earning an eye-roll from Blitzø.

“Hey, if you came to be a dick, the door’s right behind you,” Blitzø crossed his arms. Fizz only walked further into the room, adjusting the sleeves of his light-pink top as he did so.

The jester moved to circle Blitzø for a moment, “Nope. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me today, Blitzo.”

“The ‘o’ is silent, clown! Do I have to drill a paper with it in writing through your ears in order to get it through your head?” He flicked Fizz's forehead, though the action and his tone showed that he wasn't actually upset. Usually, he would be, but things were different nowadays; He couldn’t find himself to be genuinely upset with the jester.

Fizz laughed. "Nah, I just like messing with you." He bent forward a little to be on Blitzø’s level, only teasing him further. Blitzø poked Fizz in the chest.

"Thin ice, buddy. Thin. Ice." He glared, making direct eye contact with the jester. Fizz only smiled.

"Guess I'll have to tread carefully, huh?" He gently pried Blitzø’s finger away from him.

Blitzø crossed his arms over his chest. Maybe a harmless little joke to get back at Fizz, but what?

Scare him.

Blitzø and Fizz spent about fifteen minutes discussing life, AKA Blitzø was prying into Fizz’s personal life about him and Asmodeus. Then Blitzø spoke.

“I need to grab something from the company van outside, give me a few minutes.” Then he got up and left. Fizz raised an eyebrow as he watched the shorter imp leave.

It was only partially a lie, given what he ‘needed’ wasn’t actually important. However, it was necessary for his little scheme to get back at Fizz.

Once the door to his office was closed, Blitzø ran out of the building to his company’s van. When he got to the vehicle, he started to dig through the mess of trash on the floors and seats. He mumbled something about needing to clean it, or get Moxxie to do it.

Then he grabbed it.

An airhorn.

Fizz had mentioned using an airhorn to startle Asmodeus awake, why not use the same to scare the jester? A taste of his own medicine.. sort of.

Once Blitzø had the airhorn, he ran back into the building. He looked through the window to see inside his office, Fizz wasn’t facing the door. Perfect. He made sure to shake the airhorn before entering.

He opened the door slowly and carefully, making sure to shut it the same way. You couldn’t even hear the click. He tip-toed over to Fizz, then blared the airhorn right behind hip.

Fizz fell out of his seat, and Blitzø fell right next to him, except it was because he was laughing so hard. The jester had fallen out of surprise.

“What the fuck!?” Fizz couldn’t help but crack a smile; He couldn’t be mad, he did the same to Ozzie almost every day. He mumbled, “oh, you son of a bitch..”

Blitzø was too caught up in his own laughter to notice how Fizz had stanced himself.

And then he pounced.

The squeal that came from Blitzø was one Fizz would never, ever forget.

“You think that’s funny, do you? Huh? Fine then, I’ll give you something to laugh about!” The jester exclaimed as he immediately dug his fingers into Blitzø’s sides. The imp immediately started to kick and thrash, loud laughter emitting from him against his own will.

“FIHIHIZZ! Fuck, not THIHIS!” Blitzø grabbed onto Fizz’s robotic hands, but it didn’t do much to stop the jester as he just continued to scribble his fingers along Blitzø’s torso, the killer laughing helplessly beneath him.

“Ah, just like old times, right Blitzø? You’re still so insanely ticklish!” Fizz chimed, switching to vibrate his fingers along Blitzø’s ribs. “This will never get old. Ever.”

Memories of Blitzø’s childhood with Fizz flooded his mind; They almost always had tickle fights in the free time they had growing up. They both loved it, and they were honestly pretty open about liking it to each other.

Only to each other.

“Y’know, I remember you always seemed to love it whenever I’d go riiiiight here..” Fizz trailed his fingers down to Blitzø’s stomach, eliciting high pitched giggles from the shorter imp.

“Fihihihizz!” Blitzø whined, and Fizz couldn’t help but tease further.

“N’aww, still your soft spot, huh? Tickletickletickle!” He briskly scritched and clawed at the skin, simultaneously keeping the touches gentle just to worsen the sensations for Blitzø.

It was then Fizz noticed a soft sound, something hitting the floor. He glanced to the side to see Blitzø’s tail wagging, and he had to pause for a moment to compose himself.

“Aww, Blitzø! You’re tail still wags when I do this!? Fuck, you’re making me regret hating you for fifteen years,” Fizz joked. He moved his hands down a little and drilled his thumbs into the space right above Blitzø’s hip bones, relishing in the shriek that came from the shorter imp.

“FIHIHIZZ!” Blitzø’s hands latched onto Fizz’s wrists, and he started to thrash under the jester.

“Still a bad spot, huh? Guess you’re not so different compared to when we were kids!” Fizz grinned.

Soon, Fizz stopped tormenting Blitzø and sat beside him as he composed himself. It was pretty adorable.

“You’re an ass, you know that?” Blitzø huffed, glaring at Fizz with faux annoyance.

“You know you love it~” Fizz teased, delivering a few pokes to Blitzø’s sides before backing off again. He couldn’t help himself.

They both sat on the floor for the rest of the day, talking about whatever came to mind or messing with each other.

They both really did miss times like these, they missed each other, and both couldn’t be happier that they’d be able to experience it again.

[diazheartsbuckley]

🚨🚨 🎓 🎓

Hiya Purple 💕

Here is 🚨

🎓 (High school sweethearts AU)

Accidentally switched this around, it’s supposed to be 🏫 (which can be found here)

Buck wanted to nothing more than to pull Eddie into his embrace, hold him close and never let him go again. 15 years of loving someone from a distance was more than enough. But when Shannon introduced herself to him, he smiled kindly at her, a smile that never quite reached his eyes and he felt his heart being ripped open and torn into a million new pieces.

And as soon as Shannon had introduced herself, Buck felt so goddamn out of place and even downright stupid for believing that he and Eddie could ever have a shot at love again. It didn’t help that she was dominating the conversation for a few minutes until she slipped away again, leaving Buck and Eddie alone again, standing a mere two feet apart but still it felt like they were a world away from each other.

“She seems nice” Buck said as he glanced in Shannon’s direction, watching her tug a dark brown curl behind her ear as she spoke to someone that Buck recognized from his and Eddie’s history class.

Eddie rubbed his neck, shifting his weight as he stood in front of Buck and he exhaled deeply. “She is, she’s a good person, she’s a good mom” Eddie explained like it was the most logical thing in the world to him.

“Right” Buck had to fight every fiber of his being to not roll his eyes to the back of his head. Not because he didn’t believe that Shannon wasn’t a good person or a good mom. But because he hated seeing Eddie with a woman. Because he hated seeing Eddie with someone else period. “Well, this has been fun. I need a drink” Buck added, without letting Eddie get a word in as he walked past him, letting their shoulders brush together and suddenly he was 17 years old again, fighting to keep his hands off of Eddie in public, fighting every urge to not cup his stupidly perfect face and kiss him silly in front of everyone.

He pushed those thoughts away as he made his way to the bar and he leaned over the counter slightly, trying to get the bartenders attention, thinking that he was alone. Or at least out of sight from Eddie. He couldn’t do this. Not sober at least.

“You kept it” Eddie’s voice came from behind him and it took him a moment to realize what he meant. In his weak attempt to get the bartenders attention, his necklace had slipped out from his shirt, revealing the black ring that he normally kept hidden. The ring that Eddie had given him on his 18th birthday all while making a promise that one day he’d replace it an engagement ring. Well, that didn’t happen.

Without answering, Buck tugged his necklace away again, hiding it away from the world just like he’d done with his and Eddie’s relationship for years before they finally broke up when they went off to college.

“Evan” Eddie said in a tone that sounded all too familiar. It’s the same that he had used when he wanted Buck to express what was on his mind.

“You don’t-…you don’t get to call me that anymore” Buck turned to face Eddie, staring into those perfect brown eyes, all while trying to not lose his composure as he took in the beauty of the man in front of him. He had missed so much of Eddie’s life. Eddie had aged so amazingly and Buck hated that all he could see when he looked at Eddie, was all the promises that he was never able to keep.

“Look, I’m sorry-…”

“You’re about 15 years too late with that one, Eddie. And I-I-I” Buck stammered, taking a shaky breath. “I still wear this because unlike you, I keep my promises. But I’m glad you’re happy, I am” The words tasted like poison on his lips and he hated it. “Please just… just leave me alone. I can’t do this with you”

Make me write ✍️

Using this as my wip wednesday

Tagged by @dangerpronebuddie @bidisasterevankinard and @spotsandsocks 💕

Tagging!!

@tizniz @watchyourbuck @wikiangela

@daffi-990 @steadfastsaturnsrings @diazsdimples

@wildlife4life @jeeyuns @housewifebuck

@babygirl-diaz @spagheddiediaz @spaceprincessem

@giddyupbuck @butraura @elvensorceress

@bucksbignaturals @bucksbirthmark @bucks-daddy-issues

@hippolotamus @himbobuck @jesuisici33

@honestlydarkprincess @rogerzsteven @devirnis

@loveyourownsmiilee @agentoutofdiaz @thewolvesof1998

@actuallyitsellie @actualalligator @exhuastedpigeon

@monsterrae1 @underwaterninja13 🩵🦋

[always-is-always]

....a little ramble....

Knowing what we now know about Justin Bieber's experiences in the beginnings of his musical "career", and knowing that Scooter is credited with discovering him, my question is this: Did Scooter know what P Diddy was doing to Justin, when he was 15 years old?

When people wonder why I have such a STRONG opinion about Scooter Braun, it is because he is connected to some very dark energies and people in the music business, here in the US.

To think that Jungkook spent any time around him makes me cringe.

The whole system in K-Pop is set up to disempower the artists and to empower their management and labels. When a creep like Scooter is given so much power in that system, it can lead to some really yucky stuff, for the artists. And for the management (who get entangled in the web that people like Scooter weave, to control them), it can be a really difficult situation to remove themselves from. If you know anything about the P Diddy stuff, or the Harvey Weinstein stuff, then you know what I am referring to.

People like Justin and even Brittany Spears are prime examples. They enter the music/entertainment industry as young teens, with no ability to discern or understand what they are presented with. Especially when that dark side of the industry is so well hidden (except when it isn't). It is so freaking sad, what they went through then and what they continue to go through, post-trauma as adults.

This is why I feel as I do regarding BTS or any other K-Pop artist who steps into the music industry here in the US, and gets tangled up with the likes of Scooter and others. I cringe.

Again as I have said in a recent blog post, I am really glad that the guys (Bangtan) are sequestered away in the military (with the exception of Jin's discharge next week!). Especially Jungkook. He had BIG stars in his eyes and such a deep desire and drive to succeed here in the West, last year. I honestly don't think that he really knows just how dark things are, in the industry. Most people here in the States don't know, so I would not expect people in other countries to know, either. Once you know and see, you cannot forget or unsee.

Sometimes I think about what the guys could do after they are discharged, that could free them from the entanglement. As long as they continue to sign the dotted-line of contracts with HYBE, they will be entangled.

Sometimes I think they forget that they have the right to determine their own fate, as Individual Human Beings.... As Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook.... It is certainly not something that is fully encouraged by their management (BTS the cash cow), and honestly it isn't encouraged by the fandom, either. There is so much PRESSURE on them to be BTS, to live and breath for BTS, and to live and breathe for ARMY.

Who knows what the coming years will bring for them. My hope is that they will navigate with their eyes wide open, and with full knowledge and understanding of the results (on all levels) of doing business with the likes of Scooter and those like him. I hope that they always have protection from those who would pull them into a very dark place that would be hard to escape from. I hope that they will be able to manage themselves at company parties, where booze and drugs can lead to some really horrific experiences. I hope that they never ever have to go through what Justin has gone through, or any of the others that have spoken out about the terrible things that go on behind closed doors in the industry.

Yeah. I hope and pray literally every day, for their protection on all levels.

So this little ramble turned into a big one. Sorry not sorry. I know too much at this point in my life's journey to not feel like I do. I just wish I could wave a wand and put protection around BTS, as well as every other innocent artist that steps into the industry. No one deserves what some have gone through. No one.

With this I'll end. As they say, take what works, and leave what doesn't. This is all just a ramble of words that flow from my mind and heart. I simply want a better industry and overall a better world. And, I want those I love to be protected, at all costs.

In order for things to change, the Light has to Shine upon the darkness. Awareness is that Light.

Take care ya'll. Give your loved ones and extra hug, today.

[littlebitsmile]

in flames [C.L.] | Chapter III

Welcome back! This took me a bit longer than usual, but it's still Sunday, so I'm glad you decided to join me (: Hope you all had a nice first week of 2024 - only 55 more days until we see our munchkins driving in circles again - hope this makes the wait a bit shorter.

As always, have fun (:

story: in flames driver: Charles Leclerc [C.L.] trope: #haterstolovers summary: Always working three times as hard as everyone else, Emma does not intend to blow her chance of driving among the best of the best in her very first season in Formula 1. Concentrating on first and foremost getting ahead of her brother, she does not even notice that there are some people even in her own team who think she does not deserve this spot and would rather see her fail. And one driver in particular seems to have a need of always reminding her of that.

────ʚ C H A P T E R III ɞ────

Music booms from the headphones in my ear, my feet float over the treadmill, drops of sweat run down the sides of my face. Next to me, all I can hear is Max's heavy breathing and the occasional quiet "f*ck" as another intensive interval approaches. My calves gave up the ghost ten minutes ago and have been cramping ever since, but my pride won't let me stop.

I actually wanted to squeeze in an extra training session this morning before Max woke up and wanted to hang out and do some off-season stuff, but unfortunately, he was already at the coffee machine when I decided to roll out of bed. He then followed me into the fitness room of his apartment without any comment.

He has been kind enough to let me stay with him, Kelly, and Penelope for a few years now so that I can avoid living with our parents and even worse, letting them decide what happens next with my accommodation situation. As the eldest son, he has probably had his experiences and learned his lessons, always being the one to take the blows, and although he always pretends to give me a hard time, I'm sure that deep down he doesn't want me to go through the same hell he did. The fact that I can never come close to his golden boy in our father's eyes anyway is a different story.

I breathe heavily but try to concentrate on the view. Monaco's harbor landscape is one of the most beautiful I have ever experienced. A little too much lifestyle of the rich and famous for my liking, but Max loved it here right from the start, when we first visited a few years ago. Maybe because he can live right next to the racetrack, waking up every morning and sipping his breakfast coffee with his brain already imagining those cars on the streets right in front of him.

"You're quiet," he presses out between his lips at some point. I don't look at him but concentrate on a small yacht that is about to leave the outer jetties. He gets a kick out of seeing me suffer, I’m sure of it. If I don’t let myself get distracted by the pain in my legs, I can do a few more minutes on this torture device.

"I'm dying," I reply, trying not to fall down at the same time. My diaphragm starts to painfully remind me that I'm not my 26-year-old racing brother, who has been doing this for years and years, never losing sight of his goals, exceeding his limits.

He reduces the speed on his treadmill and starts to jog slowly before continuing: "When are you flying to England? For simulator runs and so on?"

I'm still running at the same pace as before. I try to show February 15 with my hands, holding all of my ten fingers up, then five and the peace sign as a two, but I'm not sure if he immediately understands what I mean.

In the time between the end of the season and the first pre-season tests, the world stands still in my head. I enjoy visiting friends for once and not feeling bad when I see photos in our group chats of everyone getting together and me missing. Max, on the other hand, never leaves his zone - his racing set up in his study glows for hours every day. When he's not training, eating, or sleeping, he lives and breathes motorsport, whether it’s on or off track. Maybe that's why he's such an exceptional talent. Or maybe he is just stupid, for not living his life during his prime time and will fall into a pit of self-despair when he’s 40.

"Excited?" he interrupts my thoughts. I can’t remember what we were talking about, and he notices. “For the UK, I mean? Rain and cloudy weather?”

I nod. My lungs are burning, and I don't know who exactly I'm trying to prove something to. I keep running, my thighs are starting to burn like hell. A few of my fingertips go numb, and my head starts to feel dizzy. There are a few black dots here and there, but it isn’t the first time something like this happens and it won’t be the last.

"What number are you going to start with?" Max asks. I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to give too much away about whether I'll keep my number from Formula 2 or change it. Mostly because I haven’t thought about it and I would love to have a number with a deeper meaning.

"You could take 69."

When he says this, I almost stumble on the treadmill. I hold on left and right and hop onto the side edges as the mechanical noise belt continues to run beneath me. Although everything inside me hurts like hell after the last hour and a half of running, I must laugh out loud. Max grins sheepishly at me. Sometimes I am not sure who of us is the older sibling.

"I think that would be more your thing, don't you?" Out of breath, I put my hands on my hips and lean my upper body against the treadmill display. I try to calm my heartbeat, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth.

"I've already got the 1; that's enough for me..."

“You won’t have it forever, though," I interrupt him before he falls into another monologue of self-congratulation. I wiggle my eyebrows and grin mischievously at him. Then I stick my tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before hitting me on the shoulder with his fist.

"The only one I'm afraid of is you,” he admits openly. I look at him in disbelief. Where has this recognition suddenly come from? I almost choke on the sip of water I’m taking. “But you're in the wrong car anyway, so at least I don't have much to fear this season.”

"I don't need your false assumptions, Max. We've never lied to each other." I look into the distance, back to the harbor. I wonder what my life would be like if I wasn't the person I am.

"I'm not lying, I promise. I'm more afraid that this team will take you down with them."

"Aston Martin won't drag me into the abyss. They're giving me a fair chance."

"You would have had a fair chance with me and Red Bull."

"Fair, Max? Really? As number two? How well did that turn out with the last team partners? Lewis and Nico? Lewis and Valtteri? You and pretty much everyone who came after Sebastian? The only off-track friends who were in the same team and still get on well are Carlos and Lando. I don't want that for us." Now I turn to him. A furrow forms between his eyebrows, and he looks down at the ground. He knows I am right, and I think that causes him greater pain than what I just said about us not being able to be proper teammates.

"If you don't perform at Aston Martin, if you even get the chance to show what you are capable of in that sh*tbox of a car, then no other team will take you. There is only one chance to be part of this grid, and I just can’t believe you would rather not drive at all than have me as your team partner?" He is frustrated, I can feel it in his voice. So I try to soften my voice and understand him from his point of view.

"Max, I love you; I really do. You're the coolest brother in the world, and I'm not saying that because I get to live in your cool penthouse in the middle of Monaco.” There is a chuckle, and I know he wants to reassure me that he loves to have me here with him. But before he can speak another word, I continue. “But I've been compared to you my whole life and I will continue to be. This hasn’t been easy, for any of us. But for a change, I can decide for myself whether to confront it or if I just leave my phone off and not read the news, because no one in my own team will compare me to you." The conversation has taken on a serious tone, but I know he understands what I mean.

"I get it. I still would have liked you to be the wing woman. Pretty sure we’d be great. With you keeping all those madmen away from me." He winks. Then he looks straight ahead towards the panoramic window. It's quiet between us for a while.

I think back to his first victory with Red Bull. How he threw himself into the arms of his team afterward, so proud and so full of emotion, as if someone was finally accepting him for who he is, no ifs, ands, or buts. He doesn't talk much about his relationship with Christian Horner, but I'm 90% sure that Christian is in many ways the father figure for Max that our father could never be for him. How he has grown with this team and gone from a really misunderstood driver to a three-time world champion. He wouldn't leave Red Bull until they cut him out from inside with a digger and chainsaw and shipped him to the other side of the world. He lives, breathes, and burns for this sport and for the people in his immediate surroundings, a quality that I greatly admire in him and that not everyone is able to appreciate.

"If you could be someone else or do something else, what would it be?" The question catches him off guard. He is confused for a moment, then looks thoughtful and shakes his head.

"I don't think I want to be – can be - anywhere else. This is where I belong."

I believe him. But suddenly I'm not so sure if my answer would be the same.

As the plane lands in London, I grab my backpack, put on my cap, and hide my face a little better. I'm almost certain that some paparazzi is waiting for me in the arrivals hall because I seem to be the only one from the F1 paddock not traveling by a private jet. I wonder why.

I quickly get through security and baggage claim, so it feels like no more than 30 minutes before I step through the airport doors and out into rainy UK weather. To my right, an elderly gentleman with a sign saying "Emma V." walks towards me and takes my luggage. I thank him, get in the car, and then we make our way to the Aston Martin headquarters. I fall asleep unplanned and only wake up when we arrive.

I am overwhelmed by the polished floors, the glass structures of the building, how everything looks as if this is not the headquarters of a Formula 1 team but of Iron Man and the Avengers.

Mike Krack, the team principal, comes to meet me, shakes my hand, and welcomes me to the hallowed halls. I'm then given a tour, starting with the departments I'm least interested in, such as budget and logistics. I know these people are as important as anyone else, but I am a driver, so the technical departments will be my home base.

"But you're certainly not here to look at the view. You want to go to the simulators, right?" Mike states correctly at some point. I nod vigorously. "Then that's our next destination."

And no matter what I was expecting, it wasn’t that. As I step into a room with a screen as big as the panoramic view back at Max’s apartment, I immediately want to leap into the seat in front of it. I wait for a nod of approval from Mike before I hop into it and feel the leather beneath my hands and notice the smell of something new. I shriek. If this is a dream, I never want to wake up. And before someone can stop me, I’m already turning the machine on and getting ready to drive my first laps in the simulator.

────ʚ [Masterlist] [Chapter II] [Chapter IV] ɞ────

[hergrandplan]

Wille's Month 2024 Day 4 ( @youngroyals-events) : Revolution

In cleaning up their home, Simon and Wille find something from their past.

Read below the cut or on ao3 (warning: tooth-rotting fluff. You may want to call your dentist)(1.4k, T)

Their living room is filled with half-empty boxes. Soft pop music plays in the background as they work through the piles of stuff they gathered, both softly humming along, sometimes singing. Sometimes, they chuck something in them without asking the other for a second opinion. Other times, Simon holds something up to get Wille’s approval to throw it out – or (less often) vice versa, when they’re not sure if it should go or not.

In packing for their trip to visit Simon’s family they realized they had a lot of stuff. Like, a lot.

Though their suitcases are barely packed, they decided that now, a few days before their trip, was the perfect time to start decluttering their home (they have a few days left anyways). It turns out two people can accumulate a lot of stuff in five years of living together.

The do realize quickly that Wille is the culprit of why they have so much – Simon has long ago learned to live with the fact that his boyfriend likes to keep everything, like the receipt from the first time they went to the movies together).

It’s a slow but steady process. They have a rhythm, they crack jokes and laugh. They remember too. Now and then they find something that makes them drop everything, letting another 10 or 15 minutes slip by as they flip through another photo album, or they find a notebook from their high school years.

It doesn’t matter that they’re going slow though. They’re happy to reminisce. `

“Oh my god,” Simon suddenly exclaims loudly.

Wille looks up from an old book he’s found to see him holding up a cassette tape.

He thinks he recognizes it instantly, but he still asks to be sure, “is that…?”

Simon nods, giggling almost. “I think so.”

They scramble to find cassette player – another thing they maybe should have got rid of earlier, but now Wille’s all the more glad that they still have it. Maybe, an hour from now when Simon insists on throwing something out Wille wants to keep, he’ll use this as leverage. You never know when we might need it.

Simon puts the cassette in the player. It’s old, it crackles a bit, which is unsurprising. It was already old when Wille gave it to him for his birthday, years ago.

Most people would have made a Spotify playlist, but Wille finds there’s something more romantic about giving an actual physical copy. And so, for his boyfriend’s 17th birthday, he’d given him a mix tape, filled with songs that reminded him of him, but most importantly of them. Of Wille and Simon.

The first song plays – Aaliyah, “At Your Best (You Are Love)”, smooth R&B filling their messy living room, the notes falling and landing and staying in between the boxes.

Wille, filled with the need to take in every little detail of Simon’s being, turns to look at Simon only to find that Simon is already giving all of his attention to him. His gaze so full of love it’s almost overwhelming. Wille doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it, the way Simon just looks at him. Giving Wille his full attention, his utter devotion.

Then again, he looks at Simon, the exact same way. Even after all these years.

Wille is no longer afraid he’s going to lose any of this, he refuses for that to ever happen, not again, but he still savors every single moment with him, his beautiful boy. He looks and touches and feels, he knows the map of Simon’s body even better than the back of his own hand. The phantom memory of Simon is always at his fingertips when they’re apart, always quick to get back home as soon as possible.

And once again, Wille is filled with the need to take in every little detail of Simon’s being, with the need to never take his eyes off of Simon again.

Wille stands up, offers his hand out to Simon, who takes it without hesitation.

Wille pulls him to his feet, slowly, eyes never leaving Simon’s face. He sees the same question that’s been spinning around his mind reflected in Simon’s eyes – how did they ever get this lucky?

He places his hands on Simon’s hips, pulling him just a bit closer. Simon wraps his arms around Wille’s shoulders and gazes up at him, so lovingly, and Wille stares right back. This, he realizes with a flash, is it. This is the man he’s going to marry.

As Aaliyah sings that there’s no need for make-believe (and Wille, in this moment couldn’t agree more), Simon decides that they are not close enough. He pulls himself closer to Wille, burying his face in the crook of his neck, nosing at the soft skin there. Wille hums, moves his arms up, finds a home for them on Simon’s back, holding him tight.

Their dance turns into a shuffle, both men too tangled in each other to be able to move any more. There, between the boxes and the suitcases and all the evidence of a lifetime spent together, the promise of many more years to come, they hold each other.

The song finishes, the music softly fading away. Wille tilts Simon’s chin up, stares into those dark eyes that he will never get enough of. His heart so full of love that he can’t do anything but catch his lips with his, to feel his body flush against him, ever part touching and connecting, souls intertwined. Right now, he’s sure that their hearts even beat in the same rhythm.

There’s a moment of rest in between songs, as the cassette rolls until it lands on the next one. Wille has forgotten what songs he put on there – it’s been, after all, 10 years since he’s made it.

Then the tape hits the next song. A soft piano sounds. Wille feels Simon go still in his arms, as he too tries to figure out what song is playing. Then, all of a sudden, it’s Simon’s voice that fills up their living room. But the sound doesn’t come from the man standing in his arms – it’s coming from the cassette player.

They look at each other for one, long second as realization sinks in. Then, they break out into a fit of giggles, Simon burying his head again in the crook of Wille’s neck.

The song that’s playing is one very near and dear to Wille’s heart – after all, it’s literally named after him. Well, Simon actually never gave it a name, but he’d titled the file Wille. ‘Wille’s song’ is as close to a title as it gets.

Neither of them has heard this song in years – there was a time when Wille played it to death. When he first received it, and he thought this was the final piece of Simon he’d ever get, the only way he would be able to hear his voice.

Simon’s shoulders shake with laughter as the first chorus start, and Wille only pulls him tighter against him.

“I still can’t believe you put this on there,” Simon groans into his shoulder, his voice muffled. Wille’s sure that if he were to look at him now, he’d see Simon’s cheeks burning in embarrassment.

“I think it’s sweet,” Wille says, barely able to contain his laughter, which only makes Simon groan more.

“It’s so cringe.”

“You were sixteen, of course it’s cringe.” Wille brushes a soft hand through Simon’s curls. “And it convinced me to abdicate so…”

Simon finally looks up at him, indeed with cheeks flushing, but he’s grinning too.

“I guess I did spark a little revolution, huh?”

“At least in my heart.”

Wille leans down to press his forehead against Simon’s. His lips find Simon’s again, soft and warm and right. He smiles with Simon’s lips still on his. Simon moves his hands up to the nape of Wille’s neck, fingers buried in the soft hairs there.

Then Wille says the words he’s said a million times already, words he never tires of saying. That he never tires of hearing either. Because no matter how many times he says them, he never feels like it’s enough to convey what he feels for Simon.

“I love you,” he says softly in the space between them. They stay there, linger there, as Simon’s eyes open to gaze at him.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, and pulls him into another kiss.

[layzeal]

Hi! I love your analysis on the characters because you always seem nice and open minded and not the kind of "I'm right, you are wrong", that's why I wanted to hear your opinion on this topic!

I've read that one of the most important character trait of Lan Wangji is being a sadistic, and instantly I was like "what but he's not AT ALL like that". I thought that person could be an anti but actually they wanted to praise the character. I have still thousand doubts because maybe it's me who totally read the character wrong after all this time, and because I've never read such opinion on the character, neither from the novel fandom nor from the drama or donghua fandom.

What do you think about it? :)

hi anon!! thank you 💓💕❤️ i'm glad you like them!!! (and i'm glad i come across that way, even though i have certainly slipped and said some things like that hahaha)

so my first reaction was "HUH?????" but i think i understand what that person must be talking about! and while i can't say that find his sadism "one of his most important character traits", it IS something that i think it's very endearing about Lan Wangji!!

(long post under the cut lmao)

so before we elaborate, lemme specify that in this case, i am specifically talking about the sexual, BDSM meaning for sadism. here, a sadist is someone who finds sexual pleasure in inflicting pain on their partner during sex, on the same vein that a masochist is someone who enjoys being inflicted pain on during sex.

most importantly however, this pleasure tends to be exclusive to the mindset one has during a sexual situation, and does not translate to regular everyday life, so if that person was saying that Lan Wangji is a sadist who obtains pleasure from hurting ANYONE or ANYTHING, at ANY MOMENT, then i absolutely disagree with it

okay, so... why do so many people LOVE that LWJ is a sadist? well, obviously i can't speak for everyone, but for me, i love it because of how well done it was. sadism IS an integral part of Lan Wangji character, and he KNOWS it, and for most of his life? it scared him

imagine it with me for a second: you are a 15 year old teenager, who's lived his whole life following very strict rules with a very strict view of how one should behave. you never once indulged in "common teenager behavior", you never felt the need to. then, out of nowhere, a gremlin boy comes into your life as the very embodiment of those behaviors—drinking, flirting, breaking rules, causing trouble, saying ridiculous things in class, reading... forbidden material,

that boy thinks you're a stick-in-the-mud. that boy wants you to loosen up a little. that boy tricks you into opening one of those forbidden books, and laughs at the face you make about it, then runs away happily. your blood boils, your face is red, you've never felt so hot and so frustrated in your life. you want to teach him a lesson

however, next day comes and that boy and his shidi join you on a nighthunt, and you come to the realization that he's actually... not as terrible as you first thought? he's a troublemaker, sure, but he's also incredibly competent, intelligent and even selfless if the situation calls for it. that... also stirs something in you.

then, that boy comes bearing "an apology gift", two cute, white little rabbits he caught himself, just for you. you know, deep inside, he's just doing this to get a reaction out of you. that's all he ever does. so when he makes an inappropriate joke and you (before you can even stop yourself) push him out the window, hearing him laugh joyfully even after he hit the floor, you feel that stiring again, that hot frustration, and at this point... you start suspecting something. something about what this feeling is

the thing is, for as much as you want to, you don't hate that boy. you hate how he makes you feel, but you don't hate him. in fact, you start suspecting quite the opposite. but you ignore it, and you push it aside, even as you catch yourself thinking about him, and doing the things he told you about—he's always in your mind... and you don't hate it. even when you catch yourself looking for forbidden material yourself, a type that not even that boy showed to you, a type that you can relate to, maybe even fantasize with

so, imagine now, that is how your very young life is going. then, one night... you have a dream, one very different. it starts out as a memory, but early on, it changes. in that dream, that boy teases you just a bit more cruelly, says some things with stranger implications, he pushes, and pushes you, and pushes you, and you break.

in that dream, you hurt him

and not just any kind of hurt. you do something unspeakable. the most immoral of acts a human can do. you hurt him as he cries and begs you to stop. you don't

and the worst part? you enjoy it

you were so certain, up until that point, that you were a good person. that you'd never want to hurt anyone, especially like this. so why does that dream make you feel that way? what does it mean?! that boy angers and frustrates you, sure, but you never ever wanted to hurt him. so you convince yourself that it was how your young, hormonal brain processes this anger, and tries to move on

and you don't think about why, by the end, you were holding each other close. why, by the end, you'd wanted him to enjoy it as well

KDFKSHC OKAY SORRY this ended up longer than i'd planned, but this? this is a VERY very common experience for teenagers who happen to have this type of sexual inclination to have. your mind is so young and you don't know much about sex at all, but your brain and your body betray you, and you feel drawn towards fantasies that by all means should disgust you. and it scares you, it scares you because if i enjoy these thoughs, then what does that make me?? so, much like lan wangji, those feelings get repressed and turned into something shameful for themselves

AND HERE IS WHERE WEI WUXIAN COMES IN!!! because that dream lan wangji had? it gets exposed in full sound and color to the very person it was about. now, up until that point, wangxian had already been exploring their sexuality together, and after their little fucking in the woods where lwj kept trying and trying to hold back as to not hurt him, apologizing and feeling frustrated that he can't (and who could, in his place?) wwx's reaction was to continuously rile him up more and more, because he DOESN'T want lan zhan to hold back!! no restraints, right? he wants all lan zhan has to offer!!! he wants lan zhan in all he can be!! he wants it, he enjoys it, even if it hurts!!

(how lucky, that this repressed little sadist found love in someone who turned out to be a repressed little masochist LMAO)

what is endearing about that incense burner extra is that lan wangji is visibly nervous and embarrassed about this dream, even now, even after him and wwx got married and have had sex many times. this is STILL something that lwj is ashamed about. and wei wuxian's response? to be as open as possible, to reassure him that he finds it SO hot, that he loves it, that he wants him to fuck him like that RIGHT NOW!! that there's nothing to be ashamed about cause guess what? wei wuxian is SO into it too, he's egging on little 15yo lan zhan on his actions against his own younger self!! and lan wangji finally lets it go!!! he accepts this part if himself, because now he knows it doesn't mean anything bad, it doesn't mean he's a horrible person who wants to see wei ying hurt and crying (he has, already, back when everything was falling apart), because he only wants it when he knows that wei ying wants it too. he only wants it if it's a way for wei ying to also enjoy himself

soo yeah, this is what i think that person meant when they said lan wangji was a sadist. he is!! actually, for as much as i love what the incense burner means to them, i personally don't even like reading it because of how violent it can be, and i cannot blame anyone for not being able to read it, but it IS very important to his character, and such a compelling look into his mind!

but you can also imagine how much it would have scared little lan zhan, and how validating it must have been years later, to finally know that hey, it's just a dream, and me? your husband who loves having rough mean sex with you? finds that EXTREMELY hot and it only makes me love you more ❤️💞💕

[hermitknut]

20 Questions for Fic Writers Tag Game

@birdylion tagged me :D

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

56.

2. what’s your total AO3 word count?

440,219

3. what fandoms do you write for?

There've been quite a few over the years. Currently Goblin Emperor (slightly on the back burner while I unkink my writer's block) and Hands of the Emperor (just started dabbling, nothing posted yet). Before that Merlin, Green Rider, Realm of the Elderlings, Doctor Who, and Harry Potter predominantly, with little dips into Discworld, Sherlock, Sweep, Supernatural, Percy Jackson, Lady Trent, Life on Mars, Old Kingdom, Life on Mars, and MASH. I have some Narnia stuff kicking about in my drafts somewhere, and while I've never posted it I've been writing Animorphs fanfic for years.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Stairs Beneath the Heart: Goblin Emperor, a series of vignettes that runs parallel to the canon that I posted through the start of the pandemic and really enjoyed. It was the first time in ages I'd had a regular posting schedule, and the first time ever I'd had that much fandom attention on something I was writing - everyone was so lovely <3.

Take These Tower Stones: Goblin Emperor, the sequel to the above, a much more coherent and consistent story which everyone was again really supportive of <3

What Friends Are For: Discworld; Angua gives Vetinari the shovel talk. There's a big disparity in the stats between the previous two fics and the rest, so these last three were a surprise to me! I'm glad people liked them though :)

Fire in the Night: Merlin, somewhat angsty nightmare/comfort oneshot. Again, surprised to see this one so near the top, but pleasantly so.

The Michen Emperor: Goblin Emperor again, currently the bane of my existence because I can't seem to finish it (I will eventually, just need to unstick my brain). Really appreciate all the love people have shown it. Basically, what if canon but with smol!Maia.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably either Take These Towers Stones, or Red Sky (which is a tiny little snippet of fluff).

8. do you get hate on fics?

I've had a few shitty comments, and mostly I've just deleted them. I've never had any extended hate campaigns or anything, just people who mistakenly thought their dislike was worth expressing.

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Occasionally; usually though not always queer, normally pretty tame. I read smut usually without worrying about the warnings, but I'm a bit too shy to comment on it, and I think that extends to my writing, haha. Maybe I'll get the hang of it some day :)

10. do you write crossovers?

Nah, for some reason they don't work for me at all - almost a squick, I don't read them either. The closest I got was considering a fic where the characters from Green Rider had diplomatic contact with the characters from the Chronicles of Ixia series, but I never ended up getting there.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so - I should probably put in my Ao3 that people are welcome to if they like, I keep forgetting. I'd be honoured if anyone wanted to.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope; I'm very picky and not good at compromise, though it's something I'd like to work on one day. It'd have to be very low stakes and with someone very patient!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Lines of Silver and Gold (Realm of the Elderlings) is probably my oldest fic that is both posted and unfinished, and I have no current plans to work on it. I'm hoping that one day I'll be able to come back to it, but that book series was my thesis topic and unfortunately I rather burnt myself out on it, so it might be a long while.

The Queen Rider series was originally going to have two more fics, but those have been scrapped; fortunately it resolves quite nicely as is. Maybe I will put up a little misc fic with what I do have of the rest some day.

And on a more positive note, my Animorphs fic - it was originaly going to be a full written-through story spanning a considerable post-canon period, but unfortunately I lost the original in a harddrive failure and while I rewrote some of it I rather lost my enthusiasm for it. However, I have been reconsidering lately and might post what exists as a series of loosely connected vignettes; we'll see.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue is what I find easy and what I've received the most compliments on; I think this is because a lot of my fic is drafted "out loud" before I get anywhere near setting it to page, so the first iteration is often predominantly speech. I'm also often told I'm good at mimicking the tone of the canon, if I'm writing for a book fandom.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Research (I'll do it if it's something that will otherwise potentially hurt people, but other than that I have neither the effort nor the inclination), and making things messy - that is, I tend to tidy things up a lot and I'm not good at letting my characters get things wrong/communicate badly/etc. Good for fix-its, less good for creating challenges in the story.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I am depressingly monolingual so I don't do it in my fics; as to what everyone else does I think they should have fun and do whatever they like, I suppose. Not enough knowledge to have more of an opinion than that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter was my gateway fandom.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Ohhhh tough one. I'm immensely proud of the Keystone series (The Stairs Beneath the Heart and Take These Tower Stones), so they're solid candidates, but I also really like The Shadow of the Mountains (Lady Trent) and Miracles (Realm of the Elderlings), the latter of which contains possibly my favourite line of prose I've written.

I'm tagging @the-tao-of-fandom, @pipuhattar, @alittlefellowinawideworld, @nonasuch, and anyone else who'd like to answer!

[heatherthetiredwriter]

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks for the tag @autumnwoodsdreamer <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently just one! I've got two others sitting around in drafts but I've not published them

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

8,742

3. What fandoms do you write for?

My one fic I've published is a crossover for three fandoms, Big Hero 6, Tangled: the Series, and Tales of Arcadia: 3 Below. So I guess I write for those three. And my other two unpublished fics are for Frozen and How to Train Your Dragon. DC as well kinda.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well I've only got one so the list is just

A Game of Keep Away

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I love comments and try to respond to them as soon as I get them! They make me so happy! Though... I do have a problem with... comments.... that I know come from a specific person being on multiple accounts that I try not to engage with too much.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

So A Game of Keep Away is again the only one I've published and its got a LOT of angst and much more to come-- but my unpublished Frozen fanfic probably has the angstiest ending of them all

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It's not really spoilers, especially since I haven't written it all yet, but A Game of Keep Away will have a happy ending! My unpublished, unfinished httyd fic probably has the happiest ending, but that fic is like never ending I swear---

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Never hate, which I'm glad for. I've had grammar police. But I don't mind them cos "dang it, how didn't I catch that?" My problem, again is mostly with the one specific person who comes and finds my fic no matter where I post it and comes at it with this energy that I do not enjoy. I am glad this person likes my fic but my goodness I don't need that energy in my space when I'm trying to write 😭

9. Do you write smut?

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes! I already mentioned my only published fic right now is a crossover! I love writing crossovers!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I've had so many things stolen off of Wattpad. So. Many. Stories. Oh my goodness.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I am currently co-writing a fic with my boyfriend and our other friend, its called The Last Bat and I am just remembering its also on AO3 I think and that means some of my answers might be incorrect bc I didn't take into account that fic but I don't care cos its not on my account its on his

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

How could you ask me to choose between my favorites like that??? But it might have to be one from How to Train Your Dragon? It was the first thing I really got into. I remember shipping Hiccup and Astrid so hard. And Heather and Fishlegs as well. So maybe one of those two.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

My httyd fic... It's too big of a fic to actually write I'm pretty sure. I might could make it smaller, but I'm certain it would take years to actually write out. I think currently it sits at seventy-five chapters? or something like that? But those were twelve year old me chapters and so I would want to re-write them and make them better.... and then I'd have to continue the story.... Like in my head, I'm fond of the story because it was my first ever fic, and because it was a way I connected with my now dead great-grandmother when she lived so far away from me (yes, I did get my great-grandma to sign up for a wattpad account when I was 12), but I don't know if I have the stamina to keep that up again. Plus this was the fic that kept getting stolen. I'm sure its floating around the internet somewhere, despite the fact that I took it down from all my platforms.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told I'm really good at getting into a characters head. And I'd like to agree. Once I'm in, I know their everything. What they eat for breakfast. What color their socks are. How they'd react to the stupid trolley problem. So I never have any problems showing how a character reacts to something. How it makes them feel.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I definitely could be more descriptive. I've noticed I've only ever been descriptive with a character once and that was just because I was so into her head and I knew that instead of focusing on the dangerous missions she was on, realistically she'd be like "Oh I wonder what kind of fertilizer they are using for their poppies? They are beautiful!" So since then I've been trying to paint a visual picture better. Something that I am finding to help is figuring out my setting beforehand and like mixing ambiance players to give the right vibes. Then it tends to come easier. But its something I need to work on for sure.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

In the wise words of @autumnwoodsdreamer "One word: italicise." But also yeah I'll mix in other words. I've done a lot of dragonese for different httyd things. Elvish too.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

How to Train Your Dragon

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Its not published anymore, it didn't survive my personal purge, but it was a crossover between httyd and the hobbit movies. One of my ocs antagonists from my httyd fic got teleported into the hobbit movies and fell in love with Kili. Who then of course dies at the end of the movie and she steals his body and does the whole viking burning boat funeral to try and send him to Valhalla. And then she comes back to her world and the main fic and is like "Imma be a better person so I can be with Kili in the afterlife :)" It was so cringe, but I was free and innocent and thought it was the coolest thing ever and I wrote like I was the most talented person in the world and honestly 12 year old Heather was onto something bc I'd like half of her confidence

No pressure tagging: @susanshinning @rachelbethhines shooot im trying to think of people I know that post on ao3........ if you post on ao3 then please feel free to join!!!!!

[skzhocomments]

THE WHITE LILY (Mafia Book #1 - Bang Chan) - Chapter 16 - Yours truly, Shade

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Chapter 15 | THE BLACK IRIS (coming soon)

Let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist for this story or on the general taglist!

---

Chapter 16 - Yours truly, Shade

chapter word count: 1.7k words

~Third person POV~

Back at Stray Kids' house, things were more tense than ever.

Felix' condition was stable. There was, however, no certainty that he would wake up and make it through this.

His injuries were extremely severe, but he was closely monitored by Jeongin and other capable doctors SKZ hired.

With each passing day, Hyo would get more and more anxious that Felix would, in fact, survive this. 

He was dear to her, of course. They spent many years together under the same roof. But him waking up would mean that everything she worked for would be in vain.

If only he didn't fucking come through the door at that time! She cursed inside of her head.

She tried various times to sneak into his room and put him to sleep for good, but Chan would always be there. He only came out of the room that night in the kitchen, but ever since throwing Emilia out, he never left Felix' side. 

He ate and slept in there, and he would only go to the bathroom or take a shower if Changbin, Hyunjin or Minho took his place.

Thus, the only thing she could do was pray that Felix would never open his eyes again.

~

A raspy cough woke Chan up from his slumber.

"Felix?!" he got up from the chair quickly and came next to his best friend's hospital bed.

It took Felix more than a few seconds to realise where he was, but seeing his hyung relaxed him.

"Chris." He started, placing his right hand on his chest, where he was shot. "Fuck."

"I'm so glad you're awake, brother." Chan replied, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He never let himself cry, but the thought of potentially losing Felix was too much to bear. The relief he felt when he saw his eyelids open was unmeasurable.

"How much was I out for?" Lix asked, blinking rapidly.

"A little bit under a week. We weren't sure if you were gonna make it."

"And Emilia? Where is she, is she okay?"

"Why... would you ask about her...?" Chan's gaze darkened.

"She was... fuck, this hurts... she was stabbed... Hyo turned on her..."

"Felix... what are you saying... Didn't she shoot you...?"

"What?! No... it was Hyo... damn, she got a number on us. I remember opening that door and Emilia bleeding badly... then Hyo's weapon pointed at me... I just remember... hearing two shots..."

"No... this can't be... it was Shade... she shot you..." Chan denied and shook his head.

And then it clicked.

The way Emilia rushed as fast as she could back to the house... how the first thing she asked about was Felix...

How Hyo tried to get closer to him these past few days.

It was all Hyo's scheme.

Why?

Why didn't I pay more attention?

Numerous thoughts started roaming Chan's mind, as everything fell into place.

And now, he finally remembered.

~Flashback, 11 years ago~

"Channie, my boy... you're so young and yet-" The old man's speech was interrupted by a rough cough. "Yet there's no other choice for you out there. I wish- I wish I could've given you... more."

"Dad, I- no, you gave me so much, but..."

"I took over father's business when I was 32... much, much older than you are now. Double your age. Double your experience... Now you have to take over mine..."

"Dad, I don't know what you're saying-" I responded desperate, tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

"Son, listen to me!" he shouted, spiralling into another coughing fit. "you can't show any weakness. EVER. If you do, they will take you down with no hesitation. You have to be strong if you're going to own this wicked business of ours."

"I don't- I can't do it, dad. You have so much more left, I-"

"No, son, I'm almost..."

"Dad, stay with me! You will survive this! You have to!"

"My time is up... just remember what I told you... These emotions of yours, they are beautiful, son, but you can't let them see it. You have to stay composed, to be cold. So cold, one would be afraid to speak in front of you. No matter how hurt you are, don't let it show. Can you promise this to me?"

"I- I'll try... Fuck." I could barely see through my tears.

"But there's one thing you have to remember..."

"DAD! NO! PLEASE!"

"Love... You know how much I loved your mother, don't you? I want you to find that person for you... and protect her at all costs."

~End of flashback~

~

Hyo was peacefully standing at the kitchen table, eating toast.

"Channie, how's Lix?" she asked with a smile.

Fake. Chan thought. It was all fake.

Jeongin and Jisung also entered the room, sensing a weird atmosphere.

"Chan, is everything alright...?" Hyo asked, placing the piece of bread in her hand back on the plate.

The leader stood silent while picking Hyo's revolver from the table. Opening it up, he counted the bullets and mentally slapped himself for being so stupid.

3 out of 6.

"Felix woke up." Chan simply replied, watching the colour drain from Hyo's cheeks.

"Wh... what did you say?" she asked, unsure. "That's great! How is he? Does he remember anything?" she raised her lips into a curve, showing the man in front of her an insecure smile that didn't reach her eyes.

How come I didn't notice?

Why did I never suspect her?

Even that baby incident so many months ago...

Why did I trust this girl so much?

Just because we grew up together?

Because I loved her like I loved my sister?

How oblivious was I when it came to Hyo?

"It's funny, really." Chan chuckled to himself, loading the gun and placing his finger steadily on the trigger.

"What's funny, Hyung?" Jisung was completely oblivious to what was about to happen. Jeongin, however, knew exactly how this was going to end.

"You guys all know how my dad was betrayed by the one partner he trusted the most..." he raised his eyes and looked at Hyo, all warmth his gaze once held towards her completely gone. "I can't believe... I got myself tricked the exact same way."

Hyo got up from the table and placed her hands in front of her, starting to defend herself.

"Channie, whatever Felix said..."

Before she had the chance to say anything more, he opened fire and shot her three times.

One for shooting Felix, he said in his mind.

One for fooling me,

And one... for Emilia.

Jisung seemed completely shocked by what happened, but noticing Chris' cold gaze, he decided not saying anything would be the better course of action.

After a few minutes of silence, Chan placed his hands on his face and cried out, the realisation of what he did to Emilia finally sinking in.

"God, what did I do?!"

"She tried to tell you..." Jeongin started, but stopped himself quickly, startled by Chan hitting the wall with all his force.

"No... No, no no! Where is this blood from?!" he pointed to the dried blood on the wall – Emilia's blood. 

He was so blinded by rage, so indifferent to her pain, he didn't even care that she was hurt. What injuries did she have, for them to leave so much blood on the wall?

However, no one dared to say anything anymore. What good would it do?

"Jeongin! Answer me! Where is this blood from?"

The boy didn't answer. Instead, he just let his head fall down, shaking it.

"That's... no... fuck... she was hurt and I... what did I do?!" he cried angrily, hitting the wall again and again, until his hand was a bloodied mess.

My hands are stained with her blood and no matter how hard I wash them, the warm feeling of it won't go away.

Crimson red and warm.

Crimson red, just as the shade of her lips the night I met her.

Why? Why did things end up like this?

How could I be so blind?

Why?

Why?

Why?!

It's all my fault.

"Please... Jeongin... you know where she is, don't you? You... you helped her, right? That's where you've been leaving these past days..."

"You knew?" I.N looked aside. "And didn't say anything...?"

"Where is she?" Chan asked again, straightening his back and coming face-to-face with Jeongin, his eyes pleading.

"She... she didn't make it, Hyung." I.N replied coldly, averting his gaze.

"Don't lie to me, goddamit!" Chan hit the wall once again, but the boy only let his head fall back down.

"I helped her! But she... fuck. I couldn't save her!" the boy screamed at his leader, tears forming in his eyes as well for seeing how much pain he was in.

I'm sorry, Chan, I really am. But this is for the best. He thought.

"No... no, this can't be. NO!" Chan screamed, letting himself fall down to his knees.

His chest started hurting badly, and the clothes on him suddenly felt way too tight. They were suffocating him.

Glancing at the Emilia's blood on the wall again, he felt sick to his stomach.

"Why... did she die?" He asked weakly.

"... Stab wound... in her lower abdomen..."

"Her body... where... where is it?" The leader continued in a whisper, barely able to speak. His own words were choking him.

"I buried her... before coming here..." Jeongin replied, showing Chan his palms. Dirt under his fingernails and callouses on his hands proved that he wasn't lying. He did dig a grave just a bit earlier.

An empty one, of course, but Chan couldn't know that, for he had a promise to keep.

~

~6 hours later~

Jeongin made his way to the motel and scanned his door key.

"Emi, I'm back! I got some takeout and brought you a box of those biscuits you liked!" He shouted, taking off his shoes.

He regretted not being able to take her anywhere fancier, but this motel in the middle of nowhere was the only acceptable choice he had when she looked like she came from a slaughterhouse. This would have to do until she heals a bit more.

Hopefully, they'll both be long gone a week from now, starting a new life somewhere else.

Leaving his Mafia hurt, and so did lying to everyone else, especially to Chan, but he was content with just having Emilia by his side.

"Hey, are you in the bathroom?" He asked, confused by the lack of response.

He knocked once, but hearing no reply whatsoever, he decided to open the door.

The bathroom was empty.

"Emi...?" he walked into the room, his heart in his throat.

Seeing the empty bed, he dropped everything from his hands.

She was gone, leaving behind only a crumbled note written in the reddest lipstick.

"I'm sorry.

Yours truly,

Shade."

---

THE END

---

(A/N) Thank you so much for reading "The White Lily". Even if this book is over, the story is far from finished. That's why I hope you will read part II of the Mafia Series, titled "The Black Iris".

---

Chapter 15

Book #2 - The Black Iris and the Withered Rose