#sorry i am SO EMOTIONAL ABOUT THIS ALL OF THE TIME

[theliteraryluggage]

Okay, disclaimer, I'm coming at this entirely from a manga viewpoint.

The manga was my first experience of FMA, and to me it will always be the best.

I have seen and enjoyed both 03 and Brotherhood, but BH is closer to my heart, because it's closer to the manga, simple as that.

Generally speaking, I don't disagree, I recommend people watch 03, but I also think it shouldn't be the first encounter with FMA you have. Because while they share the name, the cast and, to a degree, the worldbuilding, FMA03 is a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT STORY.

That is not a criticism. I appreciate 03 for what it is, for the themes it covers, for the emotions it conveys. But imagine someone watches 03 first, and then goes back to read the manga, expecting to see the 03 storyline in manga form, they will be disappointed.

My main issue is with the arguments that are repeated over and over again, that the beginning of 03 is more faithful to the manga because IT IS NOT. Yes, 03 takes a whole lot longer to cover the same events than Brotherhood, but that's because they change and add a bunch of stuff, to set up for the diverging part of the story. Yes, they take more time to flesh out the relationship between the Elrics and the Hughes and Nina, but they do it in a way that is completely different from the manga. Because you know what? The entire Nina story, from first meeting her to her death in the manga is ONE CHAPTER.

In that sense, BH is absolutely more faithful to the manga; episode 4 is basically a 1:1 translation of Ch 5 into anime form.

Again, I'm not criticising 03, they way they're handling it makes sense for the story they tell, for the character development they're setting up, which is different from the character development in Mangahood, but it is NOT a faithful adaptation of the manga, and I am tired of hearing it.

A while ago for fic research purposes I compared the Liore story arc in the Manga, 03 and Brotherhood. Directly compared them. Early on in the story, covered by both adaptations, let's see, right?

And yes, neither adaptation is completely faithful. Yes, BH changed the pacing and made the fights more dramatic and flashy. But 03 changed the actual plot beats and worldbuilding. ALREADY the plot is diverging from the manga this early on in the story.

So, I'm sorry, my ire isn't directed at you, OP, but at having to hear over and over and over again that (the beginning of) 03 is the more faithful adaptation. I get the feeling the people who are saying that haven't read the manga in a very long time, or not at all and are just repeating what they have seen other people say about 03.

Generally I think the whole which-is-better debate is completely pointless because again, they are different stories, so they have different beats and pacing, and are trying to achieve different things.

Stop pitching them against each other!

(not directed at OP, but fans in general)

And also, go read the manga. There. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

Okay but the weirdest thing about the whole "Brotherhood is better you should skip 03" discourse that's become commonplace now, it sort of forgets the world Brotherhood came out in and why you should watch the original Fullmetal Alchemist. When Brotherhood came out, the original Fullmetal Alchemist was one of the most beloved and most watched animes of all time. Brotherhood assumes you the audience have already seen it because of course you have, everyone has seen it, so it skips important information and speeds the story up because it doesn't want to bore you with things you already know. Have you ever wondered "hey why does the first episode of Brotherhood kind of suck, and why am I being introduced to like 50 new characters, and why are they acting like I know what the hell an alchemist is?" It's because Brotherhood thinks you've seen 03.

The first 7 or so episodes of Brotherhood constitute dozens of chapters in the manga, and the first 25 or so episodes of the original Fullmetal Alchemist. The Nina Tucker episode in Brotherhood, in FMA 03 takes up nearly three episodes. Yoki gets a backstory in 03 and it's genuinely one of the best episodes and taken directly from the manga and Brotherhood glosses over it because: duh, you've already seen it. And so if you skip the original you miss out on dozens of really great character building episodes like Ed and Al meeting Hughes for the first time and getting to spend a whole episode helping him free a train from terrorists, or Ed and Roy having a duel that expands on the relationship they have, or episodes where the brothers just help out random people in towns before the major story gets going.

The original also paces itself quite a bit better than Brotherhood and is more in line with the mangas storytelling. In the manga we don't find out about The Gate until nearly two dozen chapters in, and the same goes for the original anime. Like, that's a twist reveal in those stories, and it's weird that the most watched series is the one where they tell you all about The Gate in the first two episodes because they assume you've already seen the original show.

What's more, people don't know that Hiromu Arakawa helped write for the anime while she was still in the middle of writing the manga, and as a result was inspired to write scenes in Brotherhood that the anime did first. That scene of Edward getting impaled by a falling beam? Directly inspired by a similar scene in the original anime. There's a lot of little instances of that and they're great when you can recognize parallels and things in Brotherhood that are direct references to the original anime, but people don't notice any of that anymore. Because the original anime is just an automatic skip these days, and it's a bummer because people don't realize what a giant it was back before Brotherhood was released. They treat it as *bad,* not realizing it was one of the most beloved anime of its time and the problems people take issue with have a lot more to do with personal taste than any kind of actual flaw in the writing. Brotherhood was never meant to dethrone it, and the original anime was always supposed to be part of the viewing experience which is why those first few episodes of Brotherhood are so fast paced. So like, please stop telling people Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 is a skip, or it's bad, or you don't need it because Brotherhood is better. Regardless if you think Brotherhood is better or not, the original wrote Brotherhood's check. It was huge, it was beloved, and Brotherhood is *banking* on the knowledge you've seen all of it and loved it. And trust me when I say there is so much to love about the original series. It's still my favorite branch of the FMA franchise, and it's worth your time, I promise you.

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ i want your drama, the touch of your hand

type: viktor x reader

summary: making up with viktor after a particulatly nasty fight

warning(s): suggestive/borderline nsfw content after the red line divider !!!

word count: 1320

a/n: literally had this thought occur to me while i was boxing at my job yesterday and bad romance came on shuffle on my phone, MAN... the original version but also think the moulin rouge "backstage romance" version MWAH

Hour two, still no talking. The atmosphere within the apartment was heavy with unspoken resentment and hurt. Both of you had woken up in particularly bad moods, and it seemed that being in each others' presence simply amplified that.

Every little thing he did 'wrong' was ticking you off, and everything you said that was slightly unpredicted or off in tone would set him off, and it finally boiled over during dinner.

"I don't like lemon zest. I thought you knew that," he commented. He twirled a strand of the linguini through the fork, pushing the food around on the plate. In that moment, he looked like a petulant, petty brat, and it took all your strength not to reach across the table and slap it out of his hand.

"Maybe speak up next time. Or better yet, you could cook for a change then, since you seem to always have a smart remark about it!"

Viktor set down his fork. The lines between his brows furrowed.

"Don't speak to me that way please," he said, meeting your gaze. "I understand you may be frustrated, but I was just stating my preference. Something I thought you would know, since we do live and spend much of our time together, do we not?"

Anything else he may have said after the first statement didn't matter. You were already in an angry mood, and very much did not appreciate being told how to act.

"Don't police my fucking tone, Viktor. I'll speak however I want to dammit!"

He said nothing, picked up his fork again, and ate the rest of his meal in silence. The wall was slowly rising between the two of you once more. Viktor didn't wait for you to finish your food. He took his dishes, stood up, and walked off, the sound of his cane tapping against the tiles echoing too loudly in the space. You did your own dishes that night, and he did his.

Now there was a warmth lacking, even as the mattress dipped and sighed with every toss and turn. You were doing your best to keep your back to the other. It hurt, but your prides were nearly as sharp as your minds.

One of you had to break. You didn't want it to be you.

The loud banging noise from your upstairs neighbor finally did something.

"Goddammit, that idiot dropped something again," you complained.

"Someone please ban him from buying anymore hideous garden statues. That balcony is straight out of a post-apocalyptic nightmare," Viktor agreed.

You snorted, and quickly tried to cover it by clearing your throat.

"Am I only useful when I'm entertaining you?" he asked softly.

"Shut up. You know that's not true," you finally turned to face him.

"Then..."

"Viktor, I swear."

"That denial implies you care for me. Please, show and not just tell me," he requested sweetly.

"Oh yeah? Show you how, exactly?"

"I'm cold. I miss your warmth. You are cruel when you take away my routinely expectations."

"Fine. Come here," you finally reached out, and clasped his hand in yours.

This wasn't going to completely fix all the underlying emotional distress you were both dealing with, and it certainly wasn't going to fully rid what had transpired. But it was a start, made all the more worth it when he closed the gap, arms already wrapping around you tightly.

"I hate it when we fight," he whispered.

"Me too. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you."

"I'm sorry too. I should not have nitpicked so much, and I should have realized policing your tone wasn't going to make things go well."

NSFW AHEAD !!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! MINORS DNI PLS !!!

Viktor gasped, the sound breathy as it fell from his beautiful lips, now slightly swollen from how much you'd kissed and nipped at them. Your hands were in his hair, and you delighted in his reactions with every sharp tug. His amber eyes were dark. They gazed up into yours, practically begging for more more more.

You were happy to indulge.

"Tilt your head back a bit more for me," you rasped in his ear, pushing him back against the pillows. He complied easily.

"Please...," he groaned.

You pressed another kiss to his pulse point. It was one of his more sensitive area, and wasn’t helped when you followed it up with more kisses on his beauty marks.

He sighed.

“You always kiss me like you’re discovering oxygen for the first time again.”

"Because you always take my breath away." You murmured in response. You knew he was going to tell you off for such a stupidly predictable statement, and he did. You shrugged and kept kissing him again and again, silencing any more protests he had with your choice of words.

He nipped at your lower lip, enjoying the small little hiss you let out. He loved that. It never grew old.

His lips left yours, reluctantly, but moved on to your flushed cheeks and down your jaw. Viktor’s hands began gently trailing down your body, tracing and touching and feeling, committing you to memory. Everything about you was perfect, and he was in awe of it all.

As if to translate his thoughts through touch, he squeezed your thighs. He especially had a thing for them, always had. It was like they were made for him to hold.

“You’re so touchy already, Viktor? Insatiable,” you teased.

"But you love it when I can’t keep my hands to myself. You can't lie to me about that,” he cooed in a soft, lilting tone. His fingers traced along your thighs again, digging into the soft flesh.

“Yeah, yeah. enjoy that smug look while you still can,” you grumbled, not denying his words.

You suddenly lunged at him, kissing a trail down his body, giggling to yourself at his surprised yelp.

"Hey!" he laughed breathlessly, his stomach doing somersaults as you kissed along his body. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt your lips press to his skin. He loved when you did this, especially when you would leave soft little marks on his hips.

And speaking of that. You were currently working away at his hips now, trying to hold back the urge to just sink your teeth into him.

He couldn't stop the soft sighs and moans that escaped him. Gods, the touch of your lips on his delicate skin was sending shivers throughout his body.

"You don't have to be ah… gentle all the time." he murmured breathlessly, his fingers now the ones tangled in your hair.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Just bite me already, coward," he demanded.

He liked when you were a bit more rough with him. In fact, he preferred it. You not treating him like he was fragile. It made him feel better than being treated like a priceless doll, hidden away behind locked glass.

“Fuck, finally.” With his permission explicitly given, you finally sink your teeth down into him.

He let out a sharp moan, his hips rolling up a bit automatically.

"Keep going, please." he whispered. “Keep proving to me you’ll keep me warm for the rest of our days.”

You looked up at him, so wonderfully vulnerable and so violently true. His emotions were etched onto every angle of his face. Viktor was never once to mince words when it came to acts of passion, and you were fully reminded of exactly why you adored him so.

“I will. You’re forgiven,” you smiled. “Consider this worship my apology to you, and your acceptance, yours to me.”

You slowly pushed his legs apart, practically aching with the reverence and love and affection you felt for him. You could feel his breath hitch as yours ghosted over his inner thighs.

If this was how you two were to make up after a fight, maybe you should engage in conflict more often, you mused to yourself. It was going to be a slow, feverish night.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Eyes on the Mirror - part 1

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW Words count: 2631 Summary: You're at a turning point in your relationship with Frankie, he tells you that his mother insists on meeting you. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears dresses, heels and uses make-up, no other description of her is given, no mention of her skin tone and she doesn't blush, no description of her hair, Frankie can lift her but he’s a hunk of a men you know, mention of food, established relationship, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, kissing, mention of unprotected p in v, nipples play (f receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), panties in mouth (don't know how it's called in English, I just know that I like it lol), Frankie is our canon PEK and also the perfect boyfriend okay, mention of being caught (well, to be more specific, to be heard lol), pet names. Let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: This has been a long journey and I think it took me longer than expected. Second part is coming tomorrow. It's an emotional work, it's smut, but it's smut with feelings and I think I put a lot of myself into it. So I ask you to be especially delicate. This Frankie is the same guy from You look like a fun place to sit and Give me more Anyway, let me say a few thanks because I can't believe I had two people volunteer to be my beta, I'm very lucky. Kate @aurorawritestoescape and Ally @arcanefox207 The fact alone that you took some time to read and proofread my stuff is so important to me and you have given me so many helpful suggestions and advice, I am very grateful ❤️ Thank you Odi @joelmillerisapunk , to let me blather, to cheer me up, to always have the right words, I don't know how you do it, you're literally a gem ❤️ We’re going back to the emotional unavailable men agenda asap but for the moment I hope you’ll enjoy my lover boy neighbor!Frankie who is crazy about his girl 🥰  English is not my first language, any mistake is still on me, so if you come across one I’m very sorry. Frankie Masterlist ⎮ Masterlist ⎮ part 2

You and Frankie have been together for four months now, and you’re incredibly happy. Your neighbor, the man you spent a year hating, revealed himself as the best man you’ve ever been in a relationship with. 

You haven't said “I love you” to each other yet, you're taking it slow and you're perfectly fine with that, you know you have strong feelings for him but you don't know if he's ready to say it and the last thing you want is to ruin the best relationship you've had because of words said too soon. 

So you respect his timing without forcing his hand. And still you often think you don't even really need to say it, all you really want is to keep being with him, the man who can make you laugh in a second, with whom you like to do everything from the most mundane things like grocery shopping and running errands, to talking for hours and sharing everything with him, cooking, going to parties and concerts, even bickering. 

And sex. 

Oh, Frankie is a fucking magician. 

The most shockingly fiery and at the same time sweet lover you've ever had. 

You feel you can be yourself at all times with him, he knows your flaws and frailties and accepts them. And from where you were starting out it already feels like a considerable accomplishment. You never thought that the man who used to spend time judging you, once you penetrated his armor, was actually such a tolerant and nonjudgmental person.

You haven't moved in together, but you spend almost every night together, and yet, you are still trying to navigate your relationship without making the other one run off before taking the next step.

So when Frankie tells you that his mother would love to meet you, you get a little scared but you try to put on a good face.

"You really don't mind?" he prods you. 

You can never hide anything from him; Frankie has an ability to read your mind, the talent that you had never found in a man. 

His eyes scan you and he has a cunning little smile as he’s standing on the other side of the table, eating the eggs you prepared for him. 

“Yeah, don't worry, it's okay,” you nod, your movement a little forced, and Frankie notices it. 

“You're nervous, huh? Look it's normal,” he tries to reassure you, his hand slides across the table until it meets yours. 

He squeezes it gently and then intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“I'm sorry, she's been nagging me for at least a month now, I've managed to keep her at bay until now but she grilled me yesterday and told me that she was expecting us for dinner on Friday.”

“Yeah...I just feel a little pressure, you know, but it's okay,” you admit.

“Babe, she will like you very much, I'm sure.”

You look into his eyes, those big eyes the color of coffee and chocolate, and the comfortable glow they give off immediately takes away part of the weight you feel on your chest. 

“Are you sure?” you murmur.

“Of course!” he smiles at you, ”Well, you're a little sassy but...”

You slap his hand “Frankie! You're not helping me!” you complain. 

“Come on, I'm kidding. She’s going to adore you, I have no doubt about it,” he chuckles.

“Mmmm we’ll see” you still mumble with uncertainty.

"Come here," he says softly. 

You get up and walk over to him before he welcomes you on his lap and you wrap your arms around his neck. He rests his forehead on yours looking into your eyes and repeats softly, “she will adore you…not as much as I do but she sure will”

The thing is this with him, he's been circling around that word for weeks, so you're pretty sure he's going to confess sooner or later.

"What if she doesn't like me?" you ask him and bite your lip, looking at him expectantly.

“Uh, I don't want to stop fucking you, you know... so, you'll have to stay in a clandestine relationship while I'm dating a woman, personally chosen by my mom.” 

You kiss him, muttering “god, you're so...” 

He giggles and asks "what am I like?" tightening his grip on your waist a little tighter and pulling you closer to his chest, your tits pressed against him. 

“An incredibly lovely fucking bastard.”

________________________________________

You are in the kitchen preparing dinner, which in your case means putting take-out pizza on plates, as you hear Frankie come in. 

“Hey, are you here?” 

He gave you his keys a few weeks ago to make it easier for you to get around.

“In the kitchen!” you shout to him. 

You hear his footsteps approaching from the hallway until he comes in with a bag. 

“Hey, baby.” 

You walk up to him to give him a kiss, he immediately puts down the bag and hugs you tightly. “mmm I missed you. What's for dinner?” 

“Pizza,” you tell him smiling through your eyelashes and stealing another kiss, his beard tickling your cupid's bow pleasantly “And I was thinking about…uhm…your cock for dessert.”

He squeezes your butt, chuckling, “So eager, huh?”

“For you? Always,” you purr, looking into his eyes, veiled with desire.

His stomach grumbles slightly making you giggle, “Do you want to eat first?” 

“Uh, no,” he whispers, and as he does so he slips two fingers under the straps of your dress and pulls it off, letting it slide to the floor. 

You're in your panties in front of him, no bra, he looks at you spellbound with a smirk that unknowingly puckers his lips, "do you know how beautiful you are?" 

His eyes move from your face down to the crease of your neck, your cleavage, your breasts, your stomach, slowly, as if he is drinking from your body, the source that keeps him alive. 

He takes his time, still hasn't touched you but you'd swear you've never felt more caressed than now, nurtured, sensed, accepted in your body's every disheveled and flawed manifestation.

You could swear you could moan from that alone.

When his hands approach your hips you want them so badly that you instinctively lean into them to meet his palms, the warmth of his skin welcoming you.

You cling to his broad shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours.

He lifts you up as if you weighed nothing and lays you on the kitchen countertop, next to the sink. 

Your legs hang over the edge as he commands, “open wide, baby,” and settles in between, still fully clothed. 

“Frankie, please.” 

“You know what I like?” he asks with a smirk, ”the way you light up as soon as I touch you. God, it drives me crazy the way you instantly become a needy little animal, you know that?" 

You feel your eyes heavy and your voice shaky as you repeat his question, “You know what I like? The way you know exactly what I need.”

He smiles, leaning down to your neck to bite the soft skin over your pulse point and soothing it right after with his warm tongue. 

He lowers himself onto you, leaving a trail of kisses on your beating chest, pausing on your tits and spreading his lips over your nipples, first one and then the other, caressing them with his tongue, swirling it around. You moan with each touch, tilting your head back as he sucks them harder, his beard pinching you gently, his warm lips enveloping them.

You pull his cap off and sink a hand into his dark curls. 

He knows you so well, it is as if he has memorized your every little reaction and in his mind has written himself a manual on how to make you completely lose control. 

He continues to work on your nipples, grazing them with his teeth, licking them up and down with his tongue, sucking them between his lips, hard and covering them with his saliva. His tongue goes around your areola, returning to your little pebble every time you pull his hair a little harder and mewl.

He suddenly leaves your tits and returns to your neck, you groan in disappointment but his tongue immediately soothes you trailing up to your jaw and licking over your lips, inviting them to open for him and dragging you in a sloppy, feral kiss that leaves you breathless.

His hips are rocking into you, brushing over your damp underwear while you wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him against your core.

His eyes are dark with lust as he moves one of his hands over your soaked underwear, brushing your folds with his knuckles, “I’m going to make you scream my name so loudly, baby”

“That’s exactly what I want,” you prod him, biting down softly on his lower lip. “Do your magic, Morales.” 

You loosen the grip of your legs, gently pushing his shoulders to invite him to lower himself, and Frankie grumbles jokingly, "bossy". 

He kneels in front of you holding his hands down on your back, just above your butt and pushes you toward him, you falter for a moment balancing on the edge of the counter but his grip is strong and secure.

You run a hand through his curls, tugging slightly.

He licks a strip over your panties, taking the fabric between his teeth, without stopping to look at you. 

A fucking tease. 

He stills for a moment and then kisses your clit. 

Then he moves his flat tongue flat down, almost to your tight hole and then back up, again and again, lingering on your clit with quick flicks of his tongue.

The fabric of your panties is wet with his saliva as a new stream of pleasure floods you, soaking them even more.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you holler.

He looks at you mischievously. “Thinking about it… we should take some measures to make sure you stay quiet, honey, you know?” he nods to the half opened window right behind you. 

You glance back and then blurt out, “oh, whatever, let them hear us.”

Frankie chuckles at your impatience. “Do you really want to put on a show for the whole neighborhood?” 

“There are curtains, they can't see us,” you frown

“But do they need to hear us?” he says as he pulls off your panties, sliding them down your legs.

He sniffs them for a moment- “fucking sweet, darling” - while you wonder what he's going to do, then rolls them and stands back up, sneaking his hand behind your neck and looking at you authoritatively, his lips pursed in a smirk. 

He runs his thumb over your mouth, stops in the center and pushes gently, silently commanding you to open it. The moment your lips part he thrusts your panties into your mouth. “That's it, good girl” he coos.

It’s so wrong, keeping your panties in your mouth like that, your tongue numbed with the taste of it and your body tense under Frankie’s gaze. But also fucking right. 

He graciously holds his power over you, always considerate of your need while he plays with your mind in a delicious nasty way. 

He caresses your cheek, moving down to the column of your neck, wrapping his fingers around it, “Don't try to take them out or you won't get what you want,” he gently orders.  “Can you behave for me?” 

You nod.

He gives you a smirk and gets back on his knees and admires your glistening pussy for a moment. “Always so fucking wet for me,” he whispers before sinking into you again, licking and sucking on your clit and down on your folds, his nose hitting your most sensitive part. 

When you’re basically dripping on your inner thighs, he slides two fingers inside you, so easily moving over the spot he knows makes you see double.

His fingers are inside you up to his knuckles when he curls them, pushing and grasping.

You are thrown into a frenzy almost immediately as he gently hits you with his fingertips again and again, sucking avidly on your clit as you’re stifling your moans by clenching your teeth on your panties.

He laps at your folds so thoroughly, then goes back on your bundle of nerves, sloppy wet noises fill the air mixing with your gasps as he scissors and pushes into you.

He hums against you, whines evenly, you watch him through your eyelashes as he palms himself from above his jeans, seeking some relief.

He doesn’t stop until he feels your legs shake and your stifled mewls trying desperately to get out of your throat. 

Your orgasm crushes over you like a wave, leaving you quivering and breathless.

He gets back up and removes the panties from your mouth, kissing you with his mouth still smeared with your essence. 

 “You’ve been so good, baby.”

You pull him by his shirt protesting, "You haven't got anything yet, though.”

“That’s not a problem, hun, we can eat something and then you’ll eat me. Dessert, remember?” 

You giggle “deal.” 

You steal another kiss from him before slipping your dress back on and setting the table. 

As you eat you notice the bag he left in a corner by the kitchen door.

“What is that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I almost forgot, it's a gift for you." 

You squint your eyes “For me? You didn't have to!”

Frankie smiles “I saw it in a store and thought of you. Open it.” 

You get up and go for the bag, not before giving him a kiss.

When you open the bag you find a dress. 

Very simple, black, not too low-cut, with a tulip skirt. 

As you're looking at it, leaning it over your body to see the length, Frankie suggests that you could wear it to his mother's. 

____________________________________________

“Are you ready, honey?” 

Frankie's voice is muffled by the bathroom door as you're finishing putting on your lipstick.

“Almost, you just need to help me with the zipper.”

Frankie opens the door and peeps into the bathroom.

He stops behind you, admiring you in the mirror as you stand there with your lips parted, leaning slightly over the sink, your legs slender from your heels, you wear the dress he bought you, unzipped at the back.

“Jesus, you’re a vision,” he breathes. “Maybe we should skip dinner at my mom’s.” 

He approaches you and settles his big hands firmly on your hips. 

“Come on, Frankie, be serious,” you giggle.

“I'm serious,” he replies in a rough, deep voice.

He leans down to leave a trail of kisses down the exposed skin on your back, his soft lips send shivers down your spine and you are almost on the verge of giving in. 

You set your lipstick down on the sink countertop and turn to look at him pouting

"You can't do this to me now, you know we can't skip it.” 

“Well, it might help you relax though,” he continues to flirt, his lips curved into a little smile.

You’d fall for it any other day but not now that you’re trying to figure out how to impress someone you don’t even know. 

Frankie told you something about his mom, how protective she is and overall pretty conservative, you’re the exact opposite. 

You don’t know why he stays so positive about the dinner, you’re pretty sure she will hate you.

One look from you is enough to let him know how nervous you are.

Frankie leaves a light kiss on your shoulders and says. "Okay, I'll behave, turn around." 

He pulls up his zipper looking at you in the mirror, “Anyway, I wasn’t lying, you look really beautiful.” 

You smile softly, feeling your heart fluttering.

general tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @milla-frenchy , @thundermartini , @harriedandharassed , @almostempty let me know if you want to be added or removed and I’ll do it right away. Thank you so much for reading!

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[thevulturesquadron]

I've seen a couple of takes on what Varric is in Veilguard, what Solas's role is in 'keeping Varric alive' and I love to read people's interpretation of it, so I thought I'd throw my own two cents on the table.

I never saw Varric as a spirit or something Solas created/ manipulated through the blood connection. Varric was something Rook constructed. The only thing Solas did was to make Rook completely forget he was dead. Turn their confusion into denial, both through the use of blood magic (literally reshape their memory) and through lies. The rest was Rook. This is very important to me because it's a key element of the story: a story about guilt, about the strength you need to overcome it lest it cripples you. Varric's presence for Rook is about traumatic events that you just push out of your conscious mind because guilt and grief, and emotions in general, can be strong enough to take you out of commission. It's a recurring theme in the game - as an example, Lucanis in his quest is literally paralyzed because he doesn't want to face the outcomes of the choices he needs to make. It feels well woven into the story how Varric's presence is something Rook made up.

He's the voice in their head that they talk to when they panic and don't know what to do. As an aside, the absolute contrast between the fact that the dialogue options when dealing with the companions' problems are always reassuring vs. the doubt and exhaustion in Rook's voice when they're talking to Varric is striking! Varric is the conviction that keeps them going. It's what Rook thinks Varric would have said. So in a way EVERYTHING that Varric says to Rook is what Rook says to themselves. It's why the last thing you tell Varric, at the end of the proper goodbye, is 'I know where to find you when I need you': because it shows acceptance, and it shows that Varric will always be the voice in Rook's head that will provide reassurance. It's what people go through: grief, doubt, and finding answers within themselves. It's not uncommon for throughs in your head (both negative and positive) to take on the voices of people in your life. For me, in this bittersweet instance, it's all Rook. Moving on to Solas and how he plays into all of this. I don't think there was any good intent behind Solas's manipulation. There was no benevolence, there was just selfishness, but in the most painful way. The only heartfelt thing Solas did was when he said to Rook 'Tell Varric I am sorry'. That line was so twisted and beautiful because it had two edges: on one side it was manipulative, to check that Rook still believed the lie and to continue building on it, and on the other, it was pity and selfishness. He didn't say that for Rook or Varric. Not really. He said it for himself. Because the only Varric that was still alive was in Rook's head. So if Rook's version of Varric accepts his apology, it gives him a bit of comfort, forgiveness, and absolves him of murdering his friend. That line is SO, SO selfish and intricate. It's beautiful! Such fantastic writing.

The only reason Solas played with Rook's mind in this manner is because he thought it could chain Rook to his prison through their own grief and guilt. That was his plan because his own shortcomings meant that he could only perceive Rook as a mirror of himself. Pridefully, he couldn't see Rook through any other lens. As a result, he is fully convinced that once Rook realizes Varric is dead, after so much time spent in denial, it will break them and keep them trapped in there forever. He allowed Rook to forget his death so he could drown them in so much guilt that his prison would mold itself to them. Solas thought Rook is just like him. That his pain, grief and loneliness are justified punishments, that they are absolutes. He was convinced there was no way of interacting with these emotions other than his. And Rook proved him wrong. I can go as far as saying it's the proof that Solas has been looking for for the past 10 years. That he is wrong and that there IS another way. Rook outgrowing their guilt and self-pity for the benefit of others: that is the first real crack in Solas's own prison.

I could talk endlessly about how the game deals so fantastically with the motifs of guilt, grief, and choice, with the ideas of using others as mirrors of ourselves, but I think this at least sums up how I feel about the whole Rook - Varric - Solas dynamic.

[qqquib]

tubbo saying that dream’s brain has been, for lack of better phrasing, miss-wired from being stuck in a sphere of hate for four years is so accurate!

you see it today in people falling into alt-right pipelines for being called hated on relentlessly, mainly in a lot of cishet white men. they tend to follow people who see them being hated and support them and tell them they’ve done no wrong. it’s a huge echo chamber, and they tend to end up hating the other people back. this is just an example, (i haven’t seen dreams full VOD), and i’m not claiming that he is a trumpie.

being as online as dream has been, while also being wildly popular, is bound to make him see things differently. i’m not saying it’s right, i’m saying it makes sense.

think about it. i’ve been surrounded with people who also read fanfic for my whole life, and when i do something that isn’t perceived as normal it’s generally because of people i hang around, and content i interact with. it’s how people exist and grow.

he should however take the time to learn to see things from other peoples perspectives—despite his anger and his own emotions. he should learn how to step back and recollect before responding with pure emotion and anger.

he is trying to make people see his whole point while bringing evidence and bringing up old/past issues to make it more “sympathetic” in his eyes. that’s just defensive. and yeah, he has been able to prove certain things, or say that things are incorrect and be correct. he is good at disproving bad claims about him. (the truth video, and proving that he is not a pedo. there has been so much back and forth between what actually happened there i am not certain of anything, but for the purpose of hearing him out im going to say he was able to beat the allegation)

but, he has not disproven that he is just an asshole.

he has every opinion to be upset and distraught about people calling him a pedo and all of these others things when generally the people around him and the whole “the truth” video. he has disproven that.

but, he just sounds like an asshole for not being able to see from other perspective, and with the way he acts (very volatile) people aren’t going to want to listen to him. with him constantly deleting tweets and messages and everything! it’s a way of hiding what he has done.

i just don’t see what he wants to achieve here, or what he is trying to do. state your shit, apologize for what you have done, and do better. i’m trying to hear him out, and not be unbiased here. but wow, a lot of this is just. crazy to me, the things he is saying and the actions he has taken are arguably bad. say sorry, and move on.

anyway, idk anything. all of this should’ve been handled behind the scenes from the start, from 2020.

[moonmaiden1996]

Thoughts on first time sex with Sanji? 😋

Firstly, I am loving these asks! Bring on more!

Secondly .... I have so many thoughts about this! First-time sex with Sanji is bound to be an experience.

Let's dive in, shall we?

18+

xxxx

If He's a Virgin

Picture this: Sanji, the suave, smooth-talking chef, is suddenly reduced to a nervous wreck—not because he’s afraid of embarrassing himself, but because he’s terrified of not living up to your expectations. This man is all in. He’s the epitome of romance, not a one-night-stand guy. If you’re letting him into your heart (and your bed), he’s determined to prove himself worthy.

The Baratie was full of stories—ex-pirates swapping tales, flirting with visiting women—let be honest, there is a ship full of hot men who can cook. Women are going to be flooding in from all over the East Blue— but Sanji? Oh, he wasn’t just about those meaningless flings and one night stand. For him, it’s about love. So here he is, a trembling yet determined wreck, ready to make your first time together as special as he’s always dreamed.

"Am I okay to…?""Of course, baby, you can touch me however you want."

He’d look at you like you’re a literal goddess—awed, almost unworthy to lay his hands on you, let alone anything more intimate. The moment he climaxes and he paints your body in his thick cum? Absolute chaos.

"My love! I am so sorry. Forgive me…!"Sanji’s voice shakes, his eyes glistening with tears as he stares down at your cum-splattered body, looking genuinely horrified at the “mess” he’s made."Don’t be… feels so good. Do it again," you purr, but immediately regret it as his nose starts bleeding, and—well—he passes out.

When he’s conscious again, he’ll be torn between watching your beautiful face as he slides his cock into you OR obsessively marveling at how your glistening pussy takes him marveling at how tightly you take him.

It is emotional, tender, and totally yours, this needy baby chef will require some serious aftercare (and probably a cold towel for that nosebleed).

xxxxx

If You’re the Virgin

Oh, now this is a whole different scenario. Sanji would be nothing short of worshipful. The fact that you—a masterpiece of beauty and grace—are entrusting him to be your first? He’s honored beyond words. And trust me, after this, no other man will ever compare. He’ll make sure of that.

In the days leading up to the big moment, he’ll pamper you endlessly: luxurious baths, gourmet meals, romantic outings—all to help you relax and feel completely at ease.

"How did you enjoy your massage, my love?" he’ll ask with that heart-melting smile, knowing full well he’s turned you into absolute butter in his hands.

Finally, when the moment comes, he’s all reverence and tenderness."So perfect," he’ll murmur as his lips graze your skin and his hands explore the softness of your thighs."Shall we begin, beautiful?" His burning gaze meets yours, and before you know it, he’s coaxing moans and gasps from you with every kiss and caress.

Sanji’s skilled hands and tongue will ensure you’re floating in a haze of pleasure before he even thinks about his own needs. But don’t worry- you will be so lost in a haze of pleasure you won't feel an ounce of pain— the only thing you will aware of when he does finally bury himself in you is how good he feels. 

And don’t worry he will make sure nothing Interrupts you. He’s taken precautions to ensure no moss-headed idiot bursts in. This is your moment, and it’ll end with you lying boneless and glowing on his mattress, thoroughly pampered and loved.

xxxxx

If You’re Both Experienced

Now, this? This is a passionate dance. Clothes fly in a flurry of kisses and whispered “I love yous,” and the two of you fall onto a bed scattered with rose petals. (Sanji’s planned it, of course there are roses.)

"I adore you, Mon Cher.""Oh, Mi Amore."

This isn’t just sex—it’s love-making. Every touch, every kiss is Sanji pouring his heart out, showing you through action what his words and cooking have always expressed. By the end of it, you’ll be “his wife” which he will remind everyone at length, before stating that as such you will also be the “mother of his future children,” and ‘’possible already carrying their child.’’ If not? He’s already scheming about making that happen ASAP.

Xxxxx

Whether it’s tender and nervous, reverent and worshipful, or passionate and poetic, Sanji will make your first time together unforgettable. With this man, it’s never just about physical pleasure—it’s about love, connection, and ensuring you feel like the most cherished person in the world.

Ps Sanji will defiantly be smoking after you have sex (if you are okay with it)

Bon appétit!

[danikamariewrites]

hello hi may I please request more ddlg cassian content 👉👈 maybe with reader being grumpy bc of her cycle & cassian coming home & just being like "ok drop the attitude, I'm gonna take care of you now" & calming her down?? (totally not self indulgent LOL) thank u PS I love ur blog & ur writing keep up the good work!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Brat Girl Problems

Ddlg!Cassian x reader

Notes: Hi anon! You literally read my mind because I’m writing more headcanons for him since I’ve missed writing this for Cass. I have a ddlg period fic here (not surprising lol). I can relate to you this week because this has not been my week for many reasons including my period 🫠

Thank you for your kind words. I hope you like it!

Warnings: ddlg relationship, bratty!reader, period talk

Nothing felt right today.

Your clothes didn’t fit right, there was nothing you wanted to eat in the house, and Cassian had been gone all day. On top of all that your cycle began today. And it was only 11 am! How could things get worse?

When a cramp hit or pain spliced through your head tears spilled from your eyes. Cassian was supposed to be here to take care of you. He was supposed to know this was going to happen without you telling him.

You had sent all your feelings down the mating bond to no response from your mate. It made you angry. You felt like Cassian was ignoring you, making you angry on top of all your other emotions.

You were staring to get overwhelmed. Meaning you were about to snap. Letting out an angry huff another debilitating cramp hits you. You let out a scream, pulling on your hair and throwing yourself down on the couch.

And just when you thought you couldn’t get more annoyed the front door opened. “Hello,” Cassian called out far too casually for you. And no sweet sentiments? None of your nicknames?

Anger forced you to go greet your mate. The smile on Cassian’s face deepened your scowl. Cassian opens his arms for you, but all you do in response is huff and cross yours over your chest.

Cassian tilts his head in confusion. “Sweet pea, what’s wrong?” “What’s? Wrong?” You repeat through gritted teeth, still fighting that cramp. “Everything is wrong! And I’m mad!” You let out a small huff, turning on your heel.

Cassian followed you all the way to the bedroom. He hoped you would acknowledge him following you. The male wasn’t exactly quiet. Before you could slam the bathroom door in his face he gently grabbed your shoulders, turning you to face him.

“I’m going to ask one more time, what is wrong?” Staring up into his soft hazel eyes the concern on his face mixed with your pain broke the dam. Your bottom lip quivered as you burst into tears.

“I hate all of my clothes today, I’m so uncomfortable in everything and I’m hungry and you weren’t here! My cycle started today and you were supposed to be here!” Cassian pulls you into his chest, smoothing down your hair. “Oh sweet girl. I’m so sorry. I thought it was going to happen tomorrow.”

You push away from him. A deep frown still on your face. “You should’ve known.” You snip. Cassian pulls you back to him as you sob more and continue your rant. Your mate soothes you, rubbing your back and playing with your hair. When you finally run out of words Cassian gently holding the back of your neck, firing you to look up at him. “Hey,” his tone commanding and gentle all at once has your frown gone. “Enough of this. No more attitude ok?” Cassian nods his head and you start to nod along with him. “I’m here now and I’m going to take care of everything.”

“Promise daddy?” Cassian presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Pinky promise, sweet girl.”

When Cassian says he’ll take care of everything he means it. It’s nothing but princess treatment when it comes to his sweet girl. He drew you a bath making sure to massage your shoulders and back.

He gave you his shirt along with your favorite sweatpants. You cuddled up to your mate as he massaged your stomach to help your cramps, pressing kisses to the back of your head. Once you fall asleep Cassian sneaks out to make your favorite snack.

When he comes back you’re wide awake waiting for him. Your eyes light up at the sight of food. “Thank you daddy.” You smile as you eat. “Of course, sweet girl.” You hug him tight, pressing soft kisses to his neck.

[aniesvision]

𐂂 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕- 𝑪.𝑺

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒇 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 2 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒄 𝒊 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂��𝒆!!

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆

1079 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠

I look at him from the other side of the room. With his friends and his brothers he seems so happy, free. Talks about whatever comes to mind, enjoying himself and making everyone feel included. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with him, seeing how great he treats others.

But it's not the same when he's with me.

Whenever is just the two of us, I feel invisible. Even though he made an effort to keep me close enough to make me his girlfriend, now that I am it looks like he doesn't want me anymore. He's always too busy, he finds stuff to do when I'm around so he won't have to talk to me. He never gives me gifts, or tells me how much he loves me, or makes me feel wanted.

When I realized just how bad I was, I tried to distance myself. I didn't call him so much, didn't text him, I made excuses not to go see him, and he never seemed to care.

It's been three weeks since we last saw each other. I tried so hard to tell myself that he's just reserved, he's not so outgoing because I'm not one of the boys, he's not a gift type of boyfriend and he just... He's just bad at showing his emotions.

When he asked me to come over for the second time after so many days I wondered if things could be different. If he missed me and my presence, if he was going to finally give me the attention I crave so badly. So I got ready, even though I had no strength to make myself look pretty or even healthy, I thought he wouldn't care if my eyes looked swollen and red and if my body looked skinnier since I hadn't been eating too much.

When I got there and knocked on his door I felt a wave of anxiety hit me. He opened the door looking as unbothered as ever, not even saying anything. He steps back, giving me space to walk in, immediately walking to the living room couch.

-Hi. -I whisper, nervously, looking at him.

-Hey. -He turns on the tv, like I wasn't even there. -So, avoiding me now, aren't you?

My heart breaks with his tone, so cold and so distant, almost accusatory. I sigh, taking a seat on the other side of the couch. Normally I wouldn't sit so far away from him, but right now I just couldn't bring myself to be any closer.

-I was just trying to spend more time with my thoughts. -I explain, hoping he'd get it.

He scoffs, sarcastically, but not even look at me. I feel one more pang in my heart.

-Yeah, right.

All I wanted was for him to understand me, to be here for me, to want to listen to me. I wanted him to act like the label he placed on himself, like my boyfriend, not like a stranger.

I wonder if it's best for me to feel the emptiness, to be alone, to feel like I felt for the past three weeks without him, than to feel like I feel when I'm next to him. To feel like I'm so unimportant. It makes me look like I'm begging for something I'll never have.

-How have you been? -I ask, in an attempt to change the subject, maybe have a decent conversation with him.

-If you wanted to know you wouldn't shut me off. -He shrugs.

Ouch.

I couldn't hold back the tears anymore, the amount of sadness in my body, how upset and disappointed I was with myself for knowing I'd feel worse coming here and coming here anyway.

-Yeah, you're right, sorry. -I whisper, looking down at my legs.

For a second, I think he realized how harsh he was being, moving closer to me.

-Why are you distancing yourself? -He asks, his voice calmer, but still not giving away any emotions.

-I thought it would be best.

He turned my head so I could look at him, his eyes studying mine. It was so clear to know exactly what I was thinking about, but Chris was impossible to read.

-For me or you? -One more accusatory tone, one of his eyebrows arching.

-For us.

The sad smile was inevitable, I couldn't smile if it wasn't a sad one, but it was my way of trying to keep the conversation as calm as possible, I couldn't handle arguments.

He immediately drops his hand, nodding and clenching his jaw.

-Like that, huh? Just gonna distance yourself until there's nothing left? Is that what you want?

If there's any way of feeling your heart physically shuttering then I felt it right there. It doesn't only hurt psychologically, it hurts physically, everything hurts. Am I the wrong one? Am I so bad for trying to feel better? Is it hurting him too? If so, why doesn't he try to keep us together? He could've called, texted me, knocked on my door, asked me out on a date. But we haven't been on a date for ages...

-I don't know. -I swallow, looking away from him. -What do you want?

My vision was blurred by the tears, my stomach was swirling in the worst way possible, my body felt heavy and tired, and my head was spinning. Even being scared of breaking up, I feel like being alone is starting to look better than being with him. A relationship shouldn't feel so exhausting. It should be good, happy, calm. He should make me feel loved and cared about, talk to me, want me close. Instead, I feel like I'm useless.

-I don't know. -He responds, indifferent.

-I'm going home. -I say, even though I didn't stay for five solid minutes.

Chris's head snapped up at my announcement, a flicker of panic crossing his face before he quickly masked it with the same unbothered expression he always has.

-Yeah? Go ahead then. -He replied with a casual shrug.

I nod, standing up and walking to the front door, my hands shaking with my emotions. I stop with my hand on the handle, the door half open, and look back at him.

-I just wish one day you make me feel like you want me as much as I want you. -I say, not staying long enough to hear a response, closing the door behind me and making my way to my car.

➪ @riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @monroesturnns @chrisxcherry @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @larallott @stqrnlvs @sssoniaswiftt @s1ut4chris @lovingregulusblack @sturnslutz @star-yawnznn @jupiter-rebel @courta13 @emely9274

[dreamyvill]

Lights off

Lights off synopsis: Maryn Queen, "America's Princess," grapples with the suffocating pressure of her meticulously crafted public image. Aaron Pierre, a rising star in Hollywood, enjoys a more relaxed approach to fame. Their paths cross at a charity gala, and an immediate attraction sparks between them.

Warning this media contains mentions of: abuse of power, emotional manipulation and control, unnecessary mental health medicating, toxic work environment, and insecurity.

This is dark and will go over traumatic themes. each chapter will have their own warning so be sure to read those.

The pictures used were found on Pinterest.

Read time 4/5 minutes (if that)

lights off masterlist

Sitting in the back of the long limousine—a luxury I’d surely hear about later—I adjusted the snug bodice of my gown. The dress was black, its shimmering beads catching the soft light inside the car. They traced delicate patterns down to the floor-length hem, highlighting my curves without stepping over the invisible line Mabel had drawn.

The intricate beading trailed down to accentuate my pear-shaped figure, the floor-length gown paired with black Christian Louboutin So Kate pumps. No one would see the shoes, but Mable insisted they were important. My perfectly manicured French-tipped hands, adorned with immaculate jewelry, glistened under the dim car light—jewelry, I was sure, I’d also hear the cost of later.

I tried to calm my nerves, smoothing the fabric over my lap. This wasn’t my first event. I’d been doing this since I was nineteen. But no matter how many times I walked into the spotlight, I never felt completely at ease.

“Maryn, are you paying attention?” Mabel’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts. Her less-than-pleased face matching her tone, her tablet perched on her lap. “This is important. What are you supposed to do tonight?”

I didn’t look up, keeping my focus on my hands. “Be polite but not ditzy, speak when spoken to, and don’t eat anything ,” I recited quietly. Turning out for the moment imaging myself back at home in my bed. Letting Mabel go over all my expectations for the night.

“Good. Now remember, you need to introduce yourself to Marlon Beck. He’s sponsoring your next pageant, give him a thank you and you must capture his attention he moves in very fast.” She ordered no looking up at me scrolling on the electronic.

I frowned, confused. “Another pageant? I thought I was done with those.”

“That’s the problem—you think,” Mabel said, her tone clipped. “The label says you need to stay visible before your next album. Sales are everything. The Public needs to see their princess. ” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.

“What if we used some of my songs. I feel like two album do the same thing is going to bore then and I have a real audience that wants to hear me sing like my first album.” I rushed my first album was called Waves and it was a mix between pop and r&b and the people loved it went gold within six months.

Her eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Your job is to sing what you’re given. Leave the decisions to us.”

The words stung, but I swallowed my frustration., Wave had been mine—raw and personal. But after signing with Media Records, I’d lost control. Every song, every move, was decided for me. They wanted to open me up to be the “next Taylor swift. And unfortunately for me the ink had already dried and I didn’t read the fine print until it was too late.

“Stop thinking,” Mabel said sharply, snapping me back to the present. “Ricardo, schedule an appointment with Dr. Black. Her medication isn’t working. I thought this dose would suppress your delusions.”

“My medicine is working! It is i promise,” I said quickly, my voice trembling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry.”

The car slowed, the hum of the engine replaced by the muffled chaos of shouting voices and flashing cameras.

“Maryn, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight!”

“Maryn, what about the rumors you’re seeing director Marlon Beck?”

“Maryn, what do you think about Prince Heffien proposing to you?”

“Are you and the prince engaged?” They rattled off.

“Do what you’re supposed to do you have two hours,” Mabel said, her gaze piercing as always. Nodding my head I crouched down ready to step out of the car. Ricardo, my bodyguard, stepped out first. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and stepped into the storm of flashing lights

I smiled and walked the red carpet, ignoring the questions that swirled around me. The NAACP Gala was one of the few events where I could breathe, at least once I got inside. No phones, no gossip, no flashing cameras—just elegance and calm.

But for now, the chaos reminded me how far I was from my own freedom.

Inside, someone was watching. Aaron Pierre’s gaze kept drifting to Maryn, no matter how hard he tried to stay focused on the conversation around him. She moved through the room with practiced grace, her smile polite, her posture poised. But he could tell she was nervous.

Her presence drew his attention again and again, like a spotlight in the crowded room.

Maryn felt it—that sensation of being watched. Her chest tightened as she lifted her head, scanning the room. Her lips curved into a faint smile, From across the room, Aaron could see the weariness hiding behind her polished exterior.

When their eyes finally met, she froze, feeling as though he could see straight through her. His green eyes were steady, curious, and strangely warm. Her gaze flicked away, though, as she spotted Marlon Beck nearby—a man Mabel would expect her to greet immediately.

With measured steps, she crossed the room. Her gown flowed behind her, the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air. When she reached Marlon, his overpowering cologne hit her first, making her stomach churn.

“Maryn, lovely to see you,” Marlon said, opening his arms for a hug. She returned it, her smile practiced and polite, though her heart wasn’t in it. Turning to Aaron, she extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Maryn. You must be Mr. Aaron Pierre.”

Aaron was momentarily stunned. Her voice was soft but sure, and the faint scent of vanilla wrapped around him like a memory. “That’s me. It’s great to meet you,” he said, offering a warm smile. Her handshake was firm, her touch lingering in his thoughts longer than it should have.

“I hear your pageant is on track to do very well,” Marlon said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His eyes felt slimy on her like she was selling herself.

Maryn nodded, her voice steady. “Yes, thanks to your support.”

“Are you competing this year?” he asked, his tone casual but knowing.

“No,” she replied with a small shake of her head. “I’ll be judging this year.” Marlon raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Mabel gave me the impression you’d be competing.” He glanced away, distracted by someone else in the crowd, and walked off without another word.

Maryn sighed, relief and frustration fighting for space in her chest. She knew Mabel wouldn’t be pleased. She only had to capture his attention and yet her ran off. She felt the weight of disappointment and fear take is normal place in her chest.

“Are you all right?” Aaron’s voice was gentle, drawing her focus back to him.

She blinked, meeting his gaze. His height and presence made the room feel smaller, as though they were the only two people there.

“I’m fine. How are you handling all this attention?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

Aaron smiled, his green eyes holding hers drinking her figure in like ice cold water on a hot day in Arizona. “I’m doing all right. And you?”

Her cheeks warmed under his steady gaze. She wanted to look away to stop the heat from creeping in her belly but she couldn’t. Taking a breath that didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m getting through it,” she said with a faint smile.

He clarified. “Your album was a huge international success. My sister must’ve played it forty times back home.”

Her lips parted in surprise, a genuine smile breaking through. “Thank you. I loved writing that album. Especially the soulful songs.”

“I especially loved All Night,” Aaron said, watching as her face lit up with delight.

“Really? I was nervous about including songs like that, but I’m glad I did,” she admitted, her voice filled with quiet pride.

They talked easily, the rest of the room fading into the background. But when Maryn checked her watch, reality rushed back. Like in some bad knockoff Disney movie she had only just met this strange handsome man and here she was spilling all of her life to him. Talking way too much, she was completely putting his well kept hands.

“I’m sorry, but my car is coming soon. I didn’t mean to take so much of your time,” she said, stepping away before he could respond.

Aaron stood there, watching as she disappeared into the crowd. Moments ago, she’d been radiant, her smile full of light. Now, she seemed to retreat, her joy replaced by something he couldn’t quite name.

𖦹

Poor Maryn… I hope you guys like it and let me know if you want to be tagged. In the updates of this story.

I don’t have set up update days yet, I don’t want to out to much pressure on myself and quit so yeah we’re just going with the flow.

Liking, commenting and reblogs are all welcomed here and please let me know what you think. Critiques to just don’t be rude.

[sinnabarmoth]

Getting Older

Pairing: Xavier x Fem|Reader

Prompt: You have an existential crisis when Xavier tells you that he is a centuries year old alien.

Length: 1200

Xavier was hiding something.

After months of officially dating him you could tell when he was trying to hide something from you. Problem is you couldn’t think about what he could possibly have to hide. You knew Xavier. There was a lot of him that was a mystery to you but ever since you got together he had been very open and honest about who he is.

So what was it that he was still keeping to himself?

You were lounging at home, you had just gotten a new video game and Xavier was over to play co-op mode with you. It was a pretty typical day until you noticed that Xavier kept glancing at you. Usually when you played video games he was zeroed in on the screen. You had tested him once just to see how focused he was while playing a video game and started stripping right next to him on the couch. The man did not so much as blink until you were completely naked and then he paused and pinned you to the couch. Apparently he had been aware of what you were doing the entire time and was just biding his time until you were bare.

But now he kept looking over and was barely paying attention to the puzzle you were trying to figure out in the game. Finally you had enough and paused. “What is it?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve been stealing looks at me the entire time you’ve been here. Something is on your mind so just tell me what it is because if we get a game over on this level again I’m going to slap you.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Now tell me.”

Xavier sighed. “I…there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you but I could never find the right time. Then again, I’ve had enough time to learn that there is no perfect time for anything. There are better moments but I can’t keep this to myself any longer.”

“Xav,” you took his hand. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

“I know. I just don’t want you to freak out when I say this.” Well that was ominous.

Xavier took a deep breath and looked at you. “Do you remember when I said I had killed over 70,000 Wanderers?”

“Yeah. Still have no idea how that is possible for someone so young.” you shrugged. “Is that it? You’re gonna tell me you were exaggerating to look cool?”

“No. I wasn’t exaggerating and I’m not exactly what you would call young.” he cringed away from your inspectful gaze. “I…um…”

“Xavier?” you squeezed his hand. “It’s alright.”

He dropped his head, looking up at you through the fringe of his hair. “I’m not in my twenties like I told you, nor am I exactly human.”

You wanted to ask what he was going on about but remained silent, waiting for his explanation. “The truth is, I come from the planet Philos. The people there age very slowly and about two hundred years ago I came here with some friends. That’s why my record of Wanderer kills is so high. I’ve been around a long time and I’m going to be around for an even longer time.”

“You…” there were so many questions swirling in your head. He was from Philos? Was he really that old? How had no one realized that he had been around for two hundred years if he looks exactly the same? Who were these friends? Were they still around? Who else knew about this?

But what ended up coming out was, “Does that mean you’re still gonna look like this when I’m eighty?”

Xavier blinked at you. “I mean, I suppose. I may look a little older by then but not by much.” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Is that all you have to ask? I just told you I’m a centuries old alien.”

“I know. I just--” your brain was short circuiting. “Do you know what it is going to look like if I’m fifty and I’m walking around calling a guy that looks like he’s twenty my husband? They’re gonna think I’m a cougar or a sugar mommy or something! People are gonna think it’s weird!”

“Did you say husband?”

“Wrong thing to focus on!” you sighed, trying to rein your emotions back in. “Sorry. I know you didn’t want me to freak out but my brain is just flooding with thoughts and I can’t sort through all of them at once.”

“It’s alright. I figured this would happen when I told you.” he turned you to face him again. “But I needed to tell you. You deserved to know the truth.”

“And I’m grateful that you did. I don’t care that you’re super old--”

“I wouldn’t say super old--” he muttered.

“--or that you’re technically an alien. I still feel the same as I always did. I still love you.” you cupped his face. His two hundred year old youthful face. “But now I’m thinking about how long this is going to last.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said people on Philos age slowly, right?” Xavier nodded. “So if you age slowly and you look like this at two hundred years old, that means you’re going to be alive for a really long time. But me, I’m just a human. Our average lifespan is eighty years. By the time I’m old and dying you’re still going to be like this. You are still going to be around and me…”

You took in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Pain flashed in Xavier’s eyes, as if this hadn’t occurred to him either. He pressed his forehead to yours. “I…I don’t know what to say to make you feel better. I don’t even know if anything could. I have no answers about what may be waiting for us in the future but I do know this. I do not care how long we have together, I will cherish every single second of it. And if you leave this life while I am still here, know that I will find you in the your next one. I will always find you.”

“I’m going to get so old!” you cried. “I’m gonna be all wrinkly and slow!”

“And you will still be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.” he kissed your forehead. “But if there is a way to match our lifespans, I will find it. Because I would want nothing more than to grow old with you. Be it we are given sixty more years or six hundred. I will always love you.”

You hugged him tight. Whatever fears you had about your future you didn’t want to think about them now. Right now you were young and happy and your lives were full. That was all that mattered. And come hell or high water you would find a way to rewrite fate. You would not leave him, not for anything.

He gave you a tissue to wipe at your tear stained cheeks. Once you had calmed down he left a chaste but loving kiss on your lips. He pulled back with a small smile. “So…what did you mean exactly when you said husband?”

Your face flushed with heat all the way up to the tip of your ears. “Oh uh…about that…”

[arliedraws]

I've seen your posts about AI. I also know it's a pretty polarizing topic and what the majority opinion is, especially in regards to art and writing. And being an artist myself, I totally agree that it sucks, like you have to pay attention and all, but.... I hardly dare to say this because I know how emotional the discourse around AI is, especially on a platform like tumblr, which sometimes seems so strong that I don't participate in a discussion about this topic at all because I feel like people here would hound me for it, but I still use different AI software, but not in the way that I use it to create something that I can publish and pretend that I spent hours creating it myself. I think it can be really helpful.

If I need information about something quickly, it's more efficient than spending a lot of time searching different websites for a particular piece of information.

I also like to think of it as a group member when I'm working on projects. That doesn't mean that I get the ideas from it and then just copy them. In the same way that group work is beneficial, you pass the ball to each other with the AI and exchange ideas that you can then develop further. Or it can help you if you're looking for another word to describe something better, like a dictionary. And I still know how to use real dictionaries or do proper research, because I know that AI can make mistakes and you shouldn't believe everything. Just like it is with information from the internet in general. Anyway, now I come to the actual “confession”, which is that I also use it, not to let the AI create the art, but as a tool to help myself creating it. I usually use reference images for drawings to help me get the scene itself or the anatomy correct etc. Andy capture it properly. But sometimes I have a very specific scene in mind and can't find a suitable reference, and it can take me hours to find something that fits. So I like to use AI to create that reference for me, because unfortunately I don't have people modeling for me and personally it helps me extremely to have examples to work from.

Idk where exactly I'm going with this. But since the general opinion on generative ai seems very clear here, I wanted to finally get this off my chest because I always kept my moth shut being afraid of how others might react, even though I think that my methods are still quite legitimate, as I still do the real work myself. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your opinion.

Ahhhh okay, well, thanks for the vulnerability here.

You know my opinion on AI. I’m not going to tell you you’re a terrible person or anything for using it, but I’m also not going to justify your personal decisions. Instead, I invite you to change your perspective.

My opinion is this—and it’s more of a question: why are you creating the art? I’m going to hit a few of your main points and just pose questions because I think this gets to be more philosophical than a cut-and-dry “if you use AI, you are a bad guy.” Because I don’t think that—I also don’t think you should use it.

The reason I don’t blame people for being attracted to using AI is because as human beings, we’re designed to find the most efficient way to do things. Thinking and using creativity is a huge caloric expenditure. Right? Naturally, we’re attracted to ways that things can be done FOR us and reduce our cognitive load. Your brain is working as it was designed! But this is also a really cool way to take away your voice and mold you into someone who cannot think for themself.

(This is also what you’re doing by “confessing” to me. You’re unloading your cognitive/emotional burden so you can keep on doing the thing you know is probably a bit shady.)

First of all, I don’t know you, so I don’t know what your art training is. However, you need to train your brain to start coming up with stuff on your own. I am really sorry, but I don’t buy the “I don’t have enough references.” When there are free resources like Unsplash.com and even just looking at buildings around you, the furniture in your house, etc, you DO have the references. But you need to learn how to use them. This is a tool.

Second thing, if the reference isn’t exactly what you need, then you need to start learning volume and shapes. You need to study anatomy. Eventually, you will be able to look at a reference and understand how perspective works and be able to transform a reference in your head to what you need. OR - start combining references. If I’m doing a full scene, I probably have about 5-6 reference photos I’m working from. This is a tool.

Third, start taking photos of yourself for reference images. If you can’t find what you need, do that. I periodically have to go into my camera roll to delete the god-awful reference poses for myself. This is a tool.

Fourth, start a collection of things that “strike you.” Start a reference blog. Have a folder filled with images that intrigue you. Personally, I take an insane number of photos when I’m traveling. For example, I went to a mansion for a tour and took photos of all the early 20th century objects and rooms so I would have these in my arsenal. This is a tool.

My fundamental question is this—why are you having an algorithm create what’s in your head for you? Why not learn how to do these things instead? Your imagination is so cool. The process of creating is making happy mistakes. What do you think Bob Ross would say to you? When you use AI, you’re just copying. The imaginative part has been done for you. You’re just a tool of the robot.

We do so much to avoid frustration, but frustration is the part of creating. When we can see the skills we need to learn, that’s how we know we’re improving. It means you’re trying, and when you press through that discomfort, that’s when you grow. Stop seeing this as a block to your end goal but as an opportunity to continue your infinite journey as an artist. Celebrate that there are so many beautiful things to learn.

Additionally, please don’t see AI as a group project. A group project indicates that all parties involved consent to participate, and I know most artists do not want their art to be used in this way. Imagine if you learned to do all the things I’ve described above and taken time/years/frustration/love to develop these skills, and someone years later then took your work and said “It’s okay - we ALL contributed to this.” It’s just not true.

The artists you see online don’t simply sit down and draw a bunch of cool stuff without practice. I watch Youtube videos of professionals. I draw a gazillion sketches of just MOUTHS or hands so I can create my own references in my mind. Why would you deprive yourself of this?

Look, I think it comes down to this: if you’re looking for efficiency and ‘getting it done’ quickly, then why are you doing it? Are you enjoying the process? If you aren’t, why are you even doing it?

If you need a robot to imagine something for you, then you don’t actually want to do it.

[vulpixisananimal]

[A:0 C:0.2]

(Siffrin)

“-Frin!”

(. . . Mirabelles voice. She’d be here to wake you up soon. You lay on the floor for just a little bit more. You’re tired, she can wait in town like she has every time. You don’t want to, face. . .)

“. . . Sif?”

(. . . . Wait-)

(Your eye flies open and you bolt up. No, not looping. You’re not looping you’re not looping you’re not looping, you’re fine you’re okay you’re okay. Calm down, calm down, calm down. . . You felt exhausted. Mirabelle knelt down next to you, and, you’re in the room with the orrery, laying on the floor.)

(. . . When did you get here?)

"Hey Mira!” (You say, and automatically follow up with,) “have you thought about doing a sleepover tonight?"

“. . .” (She opens her mouth to reply, o-oh, stars- you slap a hand over your mouth.)

(Smooth, idiot.)

“S-sorry. . .” (You mumble, looking away.)

“H-hey! There’s no need to be sorry, Siffrin.” (She smiles at you and offers you a hand.) “It’s, i-it’s just, habit, right?”

(You look back up at her, then away, then take her hand, stumbling to your feet.) “. . . Y-yeah. . .”

“And that’s!! Okay!!!” (She opens her arms.) “Hug?”

(You nod. She hugs you. After a second, you hug her back.)

(. . . You’re, really out?)

(Of course you’re out! What, you woke up halfway through a loop in a room that no-one else knows about? Stars you’re an idiot.)

(Yeah, yeah that was a pretty stupid thought. . . Wait.) “. . . Mira? W-why am I, here?”

(Mirabelle pulls away from the hug, worry clear on her face.) “I-I was going to ask you!! We’ve all been looking for you all morning!!”

“HUH?!?!?” (You jump up. They, what?!?!) 

“YOU SCARED US HALF!! TO!!! DEATH!!!!” (She pouted.) “And you don’t know why you’re here either?!?!”

(You shake your head.)

(Weird.)

>>>

(You’re sitting down in front of the frozen statue of the King, with Mirabelle and the Head Housemaiden talking a few feet behind you. You couldn’t see his face through his hair, or his hands. But you knew deep down he was smiling for maybe the first time in a very, very long time.)

(You don’t know why, but you wanted to look at him one last time before you leave.)

(Why did he get a chance to see it? Why didn’t you?)

(Because the Universe isn’t fair, that’s why.)

(No, the Universe has a reason. If the King wanted to see the Island, then, maybe this was the only way?)

(The two behind you are still talking, you don’t pay much attention. You were too busy looking at the flowers some people had left in front of him. Why? Why would people do that? Are the people of Vaugarde really that forgiving?)

(No, look at that one. It’s, you know, that one. That flower. It’s, it’s. . .)

(Just a flower.)

“Siffrin?”

(You jolt to attention when Mirabelle touches your back. You look at her, putting on your smile for a moment before a look from her wipes it off of you.) “. . . Y-yeah?”

“Are you alright?” (You nod.) “A-are you sure? You seemed really out of it.”

“Y-yeah, sorry, I’m. . . I-I’m okay now. Thank you.” (Your face twitches into an awkward, yet genuine, smile.)

(She smiles back and giggles. Standing up to turn back to the Head Housemaiden.) "A-as you were saying, Crafted Sadness?"

"Yes, Mirabelle, you could also call them Fused Sadness."

(Crafted Sadness? Fused sadness? Oh, you missed a lot more of the conversation than you thought.)

"That's my little theory, anyways!" (The head housemaiden says cheerily.) "So overcome with his own emotions in this house frozen in time, he spawned his own bonded sadness, and fused with it."

". . . . Is. . ." (You thought about your interactions with him, how he talked, how he, killed.) "He. . . He didn't, always, act normal. . . . Tears. . ."

(You shook your head, and looked down. You feel dizzy, so, so dizzy. Oh. . Why, why did he get, to. . .)

"A-are you sure, Head Housemaiden?" (Mirabelle asks.)

"It's just a guess, but, it's what I think." (The Head Housemaiden replies.)

(Why. . ?)

>>>

(You kept your head down as you walked away from the House of Change, as you walked through Dormont, and as you waited for the others to finish up anything they needed to do. You hold Isabeaus hand tighter, the two of you're sitting on the bench outside the library. You shuffle a bit closer.)

(It’s, over.)

(You felt it in your bones, it’s over. The birdsongs were different. The wind was different. The weather was different. It was all different. You were free, it’s over. It’s done. It’s done it’s done it’s done.)

(Isabeau puts an arm around you and pulls you a bit closer.)

(Neither of you said a word, you didn’t want to talk. You probably couldn’t talk even if you wanted to. All you needed, wanted, right now, was to breathe, and to be close. In, and out. You close your eye.)

(Odile was returning the familytale, having read it twice over. Bonnie was thanking that nice blind man for all the veggies, and Mirabelle was saying hi to her fan. Isabeau didn’t have anything to do, and you didn’t have anything you wanted to do. Before, you thought that maybe you could give everyone that perfect day. Help pick the right earrings, do the frog spell thing, go fishing. . .)

(Stupid.)

(. . . You turn and hide your face in Isabeaus' shirt.)

“Gwuh-” (he replied, despite “gwuh” not being a word. He rested a hand on your back, a hand in your hair. You wrapped your arms around him.) “. . . You'll be alright, Sif, okay?”

(You nod, and close your eye. You'll be alright. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. . .)

(You're going to Bambouche next. There, you'll finally meet Pétronille, and hope that she'd be okay with joining you all. It was a couple weeks journey, which would be fine for you all. But. . .)

(You could only imagine what she must be thinking. She told Bonbon to run, got frozen, and in a blink, she's back. It's almost half a year later, and Bonnie's disappeared. Stars, and the first thing she'd probably learn about Bonnie is that they're one of the Saviors of Vaugarde!)

(You’re starting to feel dizzy.)

(Oh relax, the hard part’s over now. You can relax, alright?)

(Right. . .)

(. . . You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here, or how long you were hiding in Isabeaus' shirt. But you hear the voices of the rest of your family nearby. You breathe in, and out, then sit up to look.)

(Odile was waiting just a step away with her nose in a book, and Mirabelle was coming back from east Dormont, Bonnie in tow. Bonbon had a big, juicy carrot in their mouth. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. You’re all here, happy.)

“Everyone ready to go?” (Odile snaps the book shut.) 

“SUPER READY!!”

“Y-yes!! All ready!”

“Ready as ever!”

(You open your mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. So you just nod your head.)

(Look at that now the researcher is giving you a look. Well done! Very natural!)

(It’s not one of suspicion, it’s one of understanding.)

“I’ll lead the way this time!” (Mirabelle says excitedly.) “T-there’s no rush now, so Siffrin can have a break from leading the charge!”

(You smile at her, a silent “thank you.”)

(And your party’s underway. Bags; packed, legs; ready, excitement; peaked. You walked to the road that led north by northwest. For the others, they were re-treading a route they had just taken to get here not a week ago. But for you? It was almost a year ago.)

(176. One hundred and seventy six loops. Odile’s low estimate for your days trapped in Dormont, it was 225. For the average it was around 280, and the worst case scenario? A full 350 days. You didn’t want to think about how many pastries you ate, how many banana peels you slipped on, how many stab wounds you suffered, how many. . .)

(You’re at the edge of the town.)

(You shuffle to a stop and glance back. The others stopped too, waiting for you. They understood.)

(You looked back, the town felt a lot smaller from here. Most of it was blocked by the surrounding trees. In the distance, poking above the canopy, you could see the favor tree. Somewhere, a child was running in circles, flowers were being tended to, and daydreams were being daydreamed.)

(You take out the coins. Two coins, two identical coins. You thought you gave yours to Loop, you saw them take it, after all. The question of why you had it had been eating at you all week, but you just took it as a sign from the Universe.)

(You take one coin, and flip it, once, twice, three times! Because you know, you just know.)

(You take the other coin and flip it a fourth, fifth, sixth time. You know you’ll see them again.)

(Looking at them again, you couldn’t tell Loops from yours anymore. You think you’re alright with that.)

(You turn, and join the rest of your party- your family. As you lock your fingers around Isabeaus' hand, you’re smiling.) “Let’s get going!” (And it wasn’t even a forced smile.)

[christinebloodwrittings]

Unofficial smutmas follow up:

Fivesome pt2, Aftercare. (I got consent)

Note: Here's an unofficial part two of the smutmas special, day 9th. Because I can, and my heart needs some aftercare after that. Hahaha. All thanks to the wonderful @redvexillum.

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Warnings: A bit of angst, but overall fluff.

Original work: Fivesome smutmas day 9

It may not have the same written voice because I detest plagiarism, and I don't want to copy-paste. This is so funny because its a fanfic of a fanfic of a series.

Also, sorry about the delay, in between the block, the fact that I'm in the middle of my first own home moving, it has been a very overwhelming beginning of the month hehe.

“Am I worth purchasing?” you had asked, was it to him or anything at all? Did it matter? You were abandoned, sacrificed, used and lied to. You couldn't help but think back to the place it all began, of the pentagram, the gravel pricking your skin, the mud under your nails. The darkness surrounding the corners of your eyes was slowly engulfing you as you sank in Lucifer’s arms.

In his arms it felt warm, dangerously so. You could feel the ridges of the golden cracks up his arm, made by the fall probably. He had stopped grazing your swollen clit when he caught sight of your absent look, tears falling down the sides of your eyes, so, as he cradled your shaking body into his bare chest, he began humming a melody, soft and happy. With his cheek pressed to the crown of your head, he walked to the bathroom. 

He closed the door, clicked his fingers and then opened it again, revealing a much bigger room than it was before. Warm candle light adorned the ceramic around the edge of the big bathtub, it also made the bubbles shine like diamonds.

“It’s okay dear, I got you” a small light came back to your eyes as he put you down in the warm water. The smell of herbs and salts felt like a clean hug - so to speak. 

“I think we went too far, I’m sorry” he looked at the scratches on your tender hips, the redness of your lips, your eyes. It all made him feel a tad uneasy. “Would you like me to clean your hair?” he hesitated when it came to approach you again. 

You were a trembling mess before, he didn’t want to trigger something uncomfortable within you. 

He waited until you nodded before circling around you, settling behind you to squeeze some shampoo on your head. A shaky breath left your lips to the feel of his fingers massaging your scalp, reaching behind your ears, your nape, then shamelessly brushing gently from your crown down to your neck. 

Involuntarily your head fell against his shoulder, exhausted, overwhelmed. How was it possible to feel both cold and warm at the same time? 

He pushed some of the shampoo on your forehead back to your hair before rinsing, making sure he got all of it. 

“Is it not too hot?” he wondered, feeling you shake your head gently against his shoulder. “I’m sorry they went too rough on you, they all have mixed emotions towards the other…mostly against Alastor really” he chuckled anxiously, foaming up some soap in his hands before massaging your breasts, collarbone, then down to your hips, trying to calm down the soreness. 

“But, that’s not your fault” he left a kiss on your cheek, pulling you closer to him so he could reach further down your thighs. “What was the agreement about?” listening to your dead voice sent a shiver up Lucifer’s back, a bad one for that matter. “Now that I think about it, it was so stupid, I’m going to let Alastor know that later” he kissed down your neck, hugging your limp body close. 

A familiar click of hooves was heard as Alastor entered the bathroom, a gasp of feign shock was heard before he shamelessly made himself comfortable on the other side of the bathtub. 

“Ah I didn’t know you were hoarding our darling” you wanted to look bad at Alastor, but with the sweetness he caressed the side of your head that was exposed to the cold, you just couldn’t. No way. 

“Busboy, I’ve decided we aren’t going to host deals like this one anymore” Alastor was taken aback by the sour tone of voice that the little king had summoned, but decided to pay no mind to it. 

“It was a unique experience for both of those fools, where we all got what we wanted” Alastor moved your legs to make room for himself, getting in between you to make the center of a sandwich out of you. 

“Which is?” Lucifer warned him to choose his next words carefully, while the radio demon not only didn’t acknowledge his initial threat, but ignored him completely to direct your attention to him.  “Remember that little date I spoke about?” the corner of his smile almost reached his eyes, he was beyond excited… It was creepy.  

“Wasn’t that just to rile them up?” you had assumed, to what he lightly pinched your cheek. “Don’t be absurd dear, I've acquired some lands to play with, so we will have our date around the many stores I now own” he had made himself far too comfortable for Lucifer’s taste, attempting to pull you away from him. “Maybe get you a brand new outfit” Lucifer shook his head at his words, hugging you closer - if that was possible -.

“Nuh-uh, you’ll get something to hide her beautiful body unnecessarily” the king continued his ministrations, making foam in his hands and washing away the soreness. “Then maybe you should come along with us” shopping with those two? hell no, they would end up making a fuss out of every single comment they make. “Maybe, you should ask her if she even wants to go, instead of dragging her around” Lucifer shifted his eyes to a crimson red, his horns made an appearance too as he dragged his hooves near Alastor’s nether regions in an obvious threat. 

The demon swirled his tongue inside his mouth in annoyance, but it didn't take too much time for him to nuzzle against your skin again. “Dear, would you like to go on a little date with me?” he kissed your collarbone, softly, even too much for him. “Are you…going to let me choose?” you bit the inside of your mouth after uttering the question. 

“When have I ever not let you choose an outfit?” every single time, he even called you ‘doll’ multiple times, dragging your reality against your skin like a rusted knife. “I really appreciate your taste in clothes, but you treat me like a…toy” that word burned in your tongue as you spoke, “Can I maybe choose one myself?” Lucifer’s heartbeat against your back calmed a bit of the anxiety and the feeling you were going to get hit for being ungrateful. 

Instead, when you opened your eyes, Alastor’s ears were pinned down sideways, “I guess…that is the least I can do, after…using you” he let out, painfully so. You were so glad he understood and didn’t get mad at you for it. 

“That stinged huh?” Lucifer mocked him with a wide grin.

“Come on, after everything tonight, we all could use a rest” Lucifer was the first to get out of the water once ready and clean. He made sure you were clean as well before helping you out. You tried to tell him you could take care of yourself from that point over, but he was stubborn and insisted. That led to Alastor wrapping up in the tub, then looking for your silk pajamas he made you try on before buying it. 

While the king combed and dried your hair, Alastor changed the blanket and sheets at the mere sight of the disaster caused by the previous activities.

With his long fingers he untangled and caressed your head, guiding you more and more to slumber, and it made him happy, seeing your reflection in the mirror, slowly succumbing to his ministrations. 

Once your hair was dry, Lucifer sat in your lap, facing you to dog-eyed you into doing his. The angel’s black tail wrapped around your ankle as you detangled his hair, the tip flicking your skin from time to time.

“Don’t spoil him dear, he will want more” Alastor spoke from the doorframe, a little jealous, though he wouldn’t admit it. 

“Don’t fuss bellhop, if you’re not going to join us then go cry to your corner” Lucifer then fell back to lay his head on your shoulder. 

“Little demon” you didn’t mind how Alastor growled, not when you hugged the king of hell close to your body. 

Then it was your turn to be even more spoiled. While the king finished up dressing himself, Alastor took a tube of cream from a fancy looking bag. He had this ‘I hope this makes up for using you, cher’ type of look. One that did lack verbal communication, but did hold far too many emotions for the red demon. 

He began spreading cream on each hand print, bite mark and scratch, with an almost erotic gentleness. He massaged your neck in circular motions, your arms and legs in long strides. The moment he knelt down and put your feet on his shoulder, you felt the heat go up from your core to your face. “Dear, I kindly ask your forgiveness” his eyes traveled up your leg to your eyes, “You don’t have to do that again” normally you would touch his hand to reassure him, but aside from the times he initiates it, Alastor doesn’t like to be touched.

“Oh but the little nuisance forced me too, it doesn’t count” sure, but he wasn’t going to repeat himself, it was clear from seeing how he went silent. “It’s hard to see you being forced to do something” he hummed a yes in response, alongside a tight smile. “I share the sentiment” he chuckled in absolute distastefulness, remembering the unusual chill he had when the king threatened him.

“Does it feel better?” he asked, changing the subject. “It does, I truly appreciate this” for Alastor, those words felt strange, nauseating, in a good and weird way. - If that makes any sense-.

“No fair Alastor! I gave you that idea” Lucifer came back from the bathroom, dressed in blue pajamas with ducks printed on it. “Too bad” the red demon grinned.  

By the end of their fight, Alastor handed you satin pajamas with embroidery, which Lucifer turned into duck figures, for his own amusement. The king then, nuzzled against your neck, his tail wrapped itself around your leg and his arms secured your hip tight. He made the sweetest little noises as he went.

Alastor opened his sleep shirt and allowed you to nuzzle into his chest fluff, keeping the rest of his body a bit far from you. You understood that, despite his eagerness in the previous activities, he was feeling drained and overwhelmed, but still wanted to make you feel safe and wanted.

They both wanted to. And it worked. 

[perplexedjokist]

jonathan crane will randomly just collapse and grovel, he'll be upset about it but usually treats it like nothing

some hired thugs will look at him concerned most of the time and boy did he wish he could complain about how the bat threw him around the night prior but dear lord that is not an option in front of people that work for him.

one night on a particularly bad day for his physical health in the first place, something happens.

before getting thrown around semi regularly he had issues with dislocation and clicking, a symptom of a physical condition he got from his mother.

however usually during fights objects being pushed around mask the noise of those dislocations, or a majority of the time he simply doesn't get hit in the joints.

but tonight the bat kicked him in the knee, and it very loudly clicked, sounding more like a crack and the batman froze. of course it didn't particularly hurt more than it usually does aside from the added force and aggression, however scarecrow stays quiet.

the bat fidgets with his clawed gloves a bit, nervousness? and kneels.

"did I - break something?" ... tremble in his voice, huh. he's afraid. whatever for..

jonathan knows he didn't but he never passes an opportunity to observe the batman when he's fearful, such a powerful man - almost creature that the scarecrow sees higher than himself. not something many people have had the privilege.

" ... maybe." and the bat wobbles in his kneel, for a second jonathan sees someone lesser, more human. he hates that.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean.." terribly not powerful, vulnerable.

"enough! I'm fine, besides I am a criminal am I not? you have no self preservation! what are you, a child?" he exclaims loudly, stuttering over words and repeating certain sounds, bursts of talk he can't control usually let his stutter out after all.

the batman carefully stands and brings the scarecrow to his feet, cuffing him.

the all controlling of fear sits in his cell late in the evening after being dropped off at arkham, analyzing himself. why does it disgust him and make him feel uncomfortable when the batman is vulnerable?

shouldn't he want the bat to fear? he supposes he does but not like that. not out of care, worry. no one should have such emotion towards him.

[kamyru]

Cats and postcards (Jason Mendal x Ysaline Dolga/Reader) (Scenario)

Summary: Ysaline wasn't even drunk when she sent an offensive postcard to the wrong address. Who could have guessed that her ex-boyfriend and her actual crush lived on the same address, different cities? Suddenly, without being aware of it, Ysaline and Jason are exchanging postcard with photos made by them with cats, recommendations of places to visit, and snarky remarks. While in the meantime they work together to open the first cat cafe in the Amoris. A little bit of personal information, a little bit of guessing, a little bit of flirting, and a little bit more hope. It has references to episodes till the 11th one inclusively. P.S: Taki is a cat here.

Word counting: 5325

It was always like this. You couldn’t remember one single time in which you called your university friends and didn’t do some strange shit in the meantime. Even your cat Taki was adopted while you were on a call with them. Your best friend would have never forgiven you if you left that small fur ball, with bald spots and so dirty you couldn’t even understand what color it was, alone in the street, during the rain. She could have, of course, continued living her best life if you didn’t do what you have done that led to where you were now, but it was for the plot, right? 

And a few days ago, when you sent her that photo and told her “I know the address by heart,” her first thought was to actually do it. To actually make a postcard out of the photo of your cat pooping in your ex’s mug. You asked your mom to throw away the mug countless times, but Tasha insisted on saving it in case any of you would ever need to take a pregnancy test. It was the only thing the mug was worth it. And apparently, only Taki was solidare with you. Poor thing she couldn’t also share a part of her brain to use when you decided to send that postcard. 

And you really were sure you knew the address by heart. It even used to be saved in your car’s navigator. So how come you ended up in this situation? You read only the first sentence of the response and were too mortified to continue. Like, what good can follow after “I am sorry to jeopardize your revenge, but I have been living at the same address since this apartment was built and this is the first time anyone has called me I.M.”

So, you messaged your best friend, telling her it was an emergency. It started with her, she should be a part of the continuation too, your moral support in reading the replay. You didn’t even have the courage to look at the photo on the postcard you got back. Your mom put it on your desk face down and you read only the first sentence to understand what it was. After a few minutes, your friend video-called you. 

“Read it! Read it! Read it!” she chanted the moment she understood what happened. You wanted to sass back, but was too stressed to be witty. 

For a second, you thought about hanging up on her. But as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you needed her support. Otherwise, you would have locked yourself in your room, hoping the bed would swallow you whole without leaving a trail you have ever lived there. 

“I am sorry to jeopardize your revenge,” you finally started, your voice slightly changed due to all your emotions chaotically flying and bumping around your mind as if you had a Break the wall game inside your head. “... but I have been living at the same address since this apartment was built and this is the first time anyone has called me I.M.” You finished the first sentence, the only one you were familiar with, not having enough courage previously to read the rest of the text. Your friend stayed silent, waiting for you to get yourself together. “I may have misunderstood your cursive and it was a J instead of an I. I may not be the most likable man around, but I assure you that I have never dated two people at the same time. I have done worse. I dated three.”

“WHAT A JERK!” your friend was fast to comment. 

You weren’t sure if the sender was serious or not, but it made you laugh, the first genuine laugh since you entered your room. 

“I am joking,” the letter continued and made your friend murmur an Oh. “I want to believe I am not such a jerk in my personal life. And I have no idea what you went through, but it had to be intense for you to send a card with your cat pooping in a mug that I suppose is your ex’s. So, in my attempt to make you feel better, I’m sending you a card with my mom’s cat drinking water from the only mug I left at her place. This cat is the only reason I didn’t go no-contact with my family, even if he decided to make my mug his. Worst of all, he is not even a scorpio!”

You turned the card around and it was a photo of a tuxedo cat drinking from a mug with the zodiac sign of the scorpio on it. And you laughed again. 

“P.S. I advise you to throw away the mug. I don’t get why you kept it, but now that it has poop in it, it’s not even good to use as a container for pregnancy tests.”

Your friend didn’t say anything but you didn’t care because you were laughing your ass off. Whoever this J.M was, he would get along with Tasha better than she was getting along with you. 

“No good. He’s a scorpio. Ditch him,” your friend finally said. It made you come back to reality, but question your friend’s sanity. 

“I don’t even know who he is or why he got the postcard meant for Ioan. I was sure I knew that address by heart!” you said proceeded to check the address again. You read it once, twice, thrice, the street, number and apartment seemed right. So, what could it be? “OMG! I hope a briefcase with one million euros will fall from the sky right into my head and kill me instantly!”

Your friend started to ask you what happened while you covered your mouth with both your hands in disbelief. It couldn’t be! You weren’t even drunk when you wrote the address. How? How?!

“I wrote the wrong town. Instead of sending it to Ioan, I sent it to someone from Amoris…” you finally explained in a whisper. In total contrast with your reaction, your friend fell into a loud laugh, gasping for air half a minute later. It didn’t stop her from continuing till she was hiccuping. 

“So it can be anyone, even your boss from Devenementiel. Can you imagine? You go to work and Devon, or Amanda are like: Guess what I received yesterday! And show you all Taki pooping into Ioan’s mug.”

“Their initials are not J.M,” you clarified, annoyed by her reaction, even if you knew you would have done the same. 

“Do you know someone with the initials J.M.?” she asked you.

Before you could even think you said that no. You couldn’t remember anyone, or not now, at least. There had to be someone, but you didn’t care enough, too shocked to think straight.

“Let’s search for his address,” your friend continued. But no, this time you wouldn’t listen to her. You had had enough. No more Do it for the plot moments in your life. 

You talked a little bit more, but hung up soon, returning to your day to day lives in different cities, with different people. 

You couldn’t believe you sent it to someone from your town. With your face deep in the pillow, you prayed continuously for it not to be someone you knew, also hoping that they wouldn’t come check the address the postcard was sent from. You didn’t want to check theirs but you also couldn’t be sure they would do the same. Unlike them, you didn’t leave your initials. But it wasn’t very hard to find out who you were if they just drove by your house. Your mom was too busy to do things like this, your sister too young and the only person left was you. Shit. Shit. SHIT! With this in mind, you fell asleep. 

The next day at work, you were still deep in your thoughts. On one hand, good thing Ioan didn’t find out you were still mad at him and thinking about him – even if in a bad way. On the other hand, Amoris was a small town that you could even walk in one day if you wanted hard enough. So how? How did you make the mistake and wrote your actual location instead of the previous one?

Your colleague and newly acquired friend Amanda was fast to notice that something was bothering you. And after a few attempts, changes of your cheeks in a pink three times more visible than usual, and a promise from her to keep the secret, you told her about the dumb adventure you did for the plot. 

“Why don’t you send them another postcard, but a cute one this time, apologizing for the bother?”

At first, you didn’t like her idea but it grew on you. It was a very Amanda idea to offer, cute and distinguished, with politeness as spice. Every moment you didn’t think about work, you thought about it. And at home, Taki felt more than once your eyes on her, trying to catch her in a cute position. She didn’t seem to cooperate and you were too busy with work to spy on her every free minute, so the deadline of your apology moved further and further. Until one day you came home to see Taki sleeping on the window sill with only her front paws on the hot radiator. 

“I am deeply sorry for the mess with the last postcard. So, as an apology, please accept this one with my cat enjoying the cold weather from the inside of the house. She used to be a street cat when she was a kitten and I adopted her a few years ago. Now, she never goes out and lives like a queen, eating only the most expensive full of vitamins and low fat food. Next thing I know she buys herself land in Ireland and tells me to call her Lady. Hope this message finds you well and brings you a small smile on your face.

P.S. Don’t be a douche and stop dating three people at the same time. Date four.”

You decided to have the same easy-going approach as J.M in his card. Even if you felt awkward, at least it made you believe it wasn’t as serious as it seemed in your mind. You left the card in the mail collecting box on your way to work and forgot about it. It was a month after J.M’s response and all you hoped was that it wasn’t too late to apologize. But better late than never, right? Plus, it wasn’t as if you owed him anything. You were just polite. Polite. You were just polite. 

On your way to work, you hoped that you would continue to be just as polite, considering that you had to work with Goldreamz again. It was the first time Devenementiel and Goldreamz were cooperating, not competing. And that was how you, Jason, Danica, and Elenda ended up working together. Devon intentionally chose you and Elenda, not to cause any unpleasant scene in front of the client. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to convince everyone, your colleagues were sure you got along with Jason. Their argument: they had eyes to see. You had no idea what they were seeing, but it was wrong. 

Of course, you went together to choose an apartment for you and pose as a couple, even if it didn’t work out. He probably saw you naked, even if he wanted to make you believe he didn’t look. He let you see a part of his childhood. You even were supposed to have dinner together, even if it again – didn’t work out. But it wasn’t that deep. Of course, it wasn’t that deep. It couldn’t be. You weren’t close with Jason. You didn’t hate him as Amanda, or Roy did, or whoever else, but he was just a guy. A kinda hot, sometimes funny, sometimes caring, sometimes leaving you double-meaning hints guy who was flirting with you and you were flirting back, but nothing too serious. Right? RIGHT?!

“As you know already, I want to open a cafe,” the owner said during your meeting. As he said, all of you were aware of it, even if none of you had any idea why two of the biggest event companies in the town had to work together for a local cafe. “However, it’s not a simple cafe and I didn’t see any projects similar to this in any of your portfolio. So, I decided to ask both of you to work together for my project and share ideas.”

Usually, if a client didn’t see a work in the company’s portfolio, they were searching for something similar and hoped for the better if no other company could raise to their standards. Now, it seemed like something more serious, if they weren’t ready to hope for the best for a simple cafe. 

“I saw that Devenementiel once worked with a cat cafe, while Goldreamz worked with a cat shelter. What I want to do is to make a cat cafe from which the clients could adopt the kitties. Goldreamz’ relationship with the shelter can help us get the cats, while Devenementiel knows how to integrate them into a cafe.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Everything else went on a secondary plan and your head already started to burst with ideas about what you could do. Also, you were sure Danica would know lots of stuff too, considering her love for her own two cats. Elenda liked everything cute. And about Jason… You just hoped he wouldn’t be only business, but also put a little bit of his soul into the project. 

“I saw a similar idea in Greece a few years ago and finally got all the permissions to implement something like this. This project is as dear to me as a kid and I would like to think you would do your best to make the opening as memorable for the town as possible. I know you can look at it like it’s just a cat cafe that can’t bring too much for your companies, but…”

“No! You have no idea how happy this project makes us!” Danica interrupted the owner and a smile appeared on his face. 

The rest of the meeting went smoothly. Danica and Elenda stopped at a cafe to chat and catch up before returning back to work. Which left you alone with Jason. Ugh. Here we go again. 

“Do you like cats?” you asked Jason while buckling up the seatbelt in his sports car. The first time you ended up in that place, you forgot to put it. After that, you promised yourself to never make the same mistake in any car. Who could have thought that again and again, you would end up in Jason’s car? Good thing you were keeping your promise and not making a fool out of yourself again.

“Why are you here?” the CEO asked. And he was right. He didn’t invite you in his car, you did it on pure habit. At first, you felt a little embarrassed for making a fool out of yourself again. Then, you saw a grin on Jason’s face and rolled your eyes. 

“I was sure you didn’t get enough of me during the meeting and decided to show a little bit of kindness towards you. No, dear horsy, speed up!”

Truth be told, not you, nor Jason knew where you were going. But he started the engine nonetheless. 

“I do,” he said after he stopped the car at a red light. You turned to him with a raised brow. “I like cats. My stepdad gave my mom an expensive spoiled cat once. However, that hell creature hates him, but jumps on my lap every time I’m visiting. At some point, I was going home weekly just to piss him off.”

You looked at the Devil CEO, trying to understand if he was joking or not. It was a very Jason thing to do, but still kind of unexpected. You liked it – to discover new things about Goldreamz’ CEO that no one could have guessed, probably not even his own mother. You liked to know new things about anyone, but Jason was a special case. He was like a Matryoshka that was slightly changing with all the layers and awakening more and more interest in you. 

In the end, you ate lunch together. At first, you took out your tablet to search for the Greek cat cafe that allows customers to adopt them, but you got so deep into talking about Jason’s mom’s cat that you forgot completely you were working on a project. Apparently, his name was Shere Khan because Jason’s stepdad was sure the black panther from Mowgli was named Shere Khan and not Bagheera. And that was how a black tuxedo cat ended up being named after a tiger instead of a panther. He also shared how the cat learned to open and close drawers, especially the ones that keep the food in; how he was vomiting only in one place – his step-father shoes; and how the man who got it tried to get rid of it but Mrs. Mendal didn’t let him do it. Jason was okay with not being the favorite if it meant that his step-dad wasn’t the one too. 

You laughed, you ate, you didn’t pay anything and in the end, Jason even drove you to work. He offered to enter the company and greet everyone, but you stopped him just in time. In return you only got a laughing Jason right at the entrance of Devenementiel. It was still better than having him inside. There was a chance the whole building would have exploded if Jason entered Roy’s theritory. 

For the next few days, you saw your competitor – now colleague – only during the meetings with the client. The rest of the time you were gathering information about how to make a cafe a pleasant place for both humans and animals. You looked up other projects that had cat cafes to search inspirations for placing the cat labyrinths and other places to hide, how to find a perfect balance between cats having a safe space and people still being able to see them, and what was the optimal number of creatures in the space offered by the client. 

And one day, when you opened the postal box to see if your mom got anything while being away, something caught your eyes. It was a photo of a night sky without any light pollution, where you could see stars and a part of the Milky Way. 

“Dear Miss,

I sent you this photo of the sky seen from Amantani Island in Peru as a thank you. I don’t have too many good quality photos of my mom’s cat (blame her, please. I save all of them, I have a heart). But I have a few from places I have visited. I don’t think there are a lot of places in Europe where you can see such a pretty sky. So, I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I did. 

Your wrongly accused,

J.M.

P.S. Don’t worry. Right now, my douchebaggery found a single victim. My polygamous times are gone.”

You laughed and thanked J.M. for stating that his heart was occupied. It made you feel safer. He didn’t have interest in finding you if he had someone he loved enough to stop his self-proclaimed playboy times. You didn’t know if you wanted to send something back. As a destruction, you decided to work. Searching the internet, messaging your mom, answering your team’s messages… And suddenly it hit you! You remembered that you once traveled to a fun place: the cat museum of Krakow, that place that had more than 1000 statues of cats and you had to find specific 20, or was it 10? of them to get a prize. Somewhere on your laptop you had the photo of that museum. You could use it as an inspiration for your work. When you found it, another random thought hit you. What if you printed it as a postcard and sent it to J.M.? It seemed fun. It wasn’t anything serious, just a pen-pal who sent you cute photos from his life and random messages. You didn't even know each others’ names. 

***

Jason felt the need to lean his head on the entrance door while he was searching for his keys. He would have never imagined that listening to Danica’s stories about cats could be that exhausting. He was a CEO, he knew what exhausting conversations felt like: meetings with the board, firing employees, talking with difficult clients. But Danica, Danica was on a whole different level! That woman had more energy in herself than an orange kitten. She was the best person in the whole company for the cat cafe. However, it came with a price – the price of his nerves. And the worst part was when he drove her home she told him: “You are so taciturn with us, but talkative with Devenementiel’s Ysaline. It’s amazing how different you can be. That’s such a black cat energy.”

Jason threw all the contents he got from his mail-box on the bar of his living room and went to shower. Only on his way out did he see something strange on the floor. When he took a closer look, he saw it was a photo with what seemed like glass shelves full of statues of cats. He turned it on the other side and was met by an already familiar cursive. 

“Dear J.M.,

I don’t have a beautiful photo of a sky that you probably didn’t see, considering that we are from the same town, but I have this. I rediscovered it while working on a project for a cat cafe. It’s a place in Krakow named the Cat Museum that has 1000 statues of cats. We are back to the cat topic, but right now it’s the only thing I can think about. So, if you like to travel, please visit it with your special one. It’s fun and not expensive at all. You’ll have half an hour of pure happiness!

Your kitten obsessed, 

Y.D.”

The postcard fell back on the floor. He knew who it was. It made lots of sense now. And even more things made sense. Jason knew about his love interest’s past relationship with Ioan Mullioz and how it ended. But only now did he understand the whole tragedy better. Of course Ysaline cried in front of him when he was teasing her about being a mistress. However, the thought that she was still deeply affected by him in his day to day life didn’t cross his mind that much. Jason was older, higher in the work hierarchy, and with a playboy history. Of course, Ysaline was constantly pushing him away when he was getting too close to her in a romantic way. If she was still hurt enough to even have the thought of sending her imbecile ex a postcard to mess with him, then how could he push her the way he did? The Cat Museum was supposed to make Jason smile, instead, it made him the closest to despair he had been in years. 

***

Dear Cat-Lady Y.D.

Considering that you showed interest in going back to the topic of cats, I’ll send you a photo that my dad once took. In it you can see a few seals that are colloquially called sea cats. They may not be of such great inspiration for your cat cafe project, but their cuteness can not be denied. I will probably add the beach with the seals to the places to visit when the woman that caught my interest will accept my advances, alongside with the Cat Museum of Krakow. Make such a list for yourself too and add Amantani. But please, make sure your next choice will be better than Mr. I.M. As much as I liked the first postcard, I do love more the ones in which cats don’t poop. Thank you for your understanding.

Your not-at-all-romantic-even-if-in-this-letter-looked-like-it, 

J.M.

***

Dear Mr. Anti-Romantic J.M.

I just understood that I have never explained how I sent that postcard to you and I’m sorry. It was my university friend’s idea while we were joking around on our monthly call. I don’t want to blame everything on her, but I do really normally don’t do things like this. I have mostly moved on. But back to the topic, I do have a list of places I want to visit with my future partner. And on top of the list is probably the project I am working on right now because I love the concept behind it and it’s very close to us. Perfect for a first date. In the meantime, please admire this photo of the stray new-born kitties my friend from work has found.

You actually romantic, 

Y.D.

***

Dear Ms. Modesty Embodied Y.D.,

I am sure the project you work on will be of great popularity, considering how much passion you put in it. I also deeply admire the quality of your photos of the cats you have sent till now. I wish my mom took photos of Sher her cat at least half as good as yours. But if we are talking about cafes, I would like to recommend you another one from abroad: Little Kook. This one is not as far as Peru. It’s way closer: Greece, more specific, the center of Athens. The postcard that seems like a total chaos of colors, decorations and sweets is taken inside of it. (If you worry, don’t. I didn’t visit it with one of my one-night-stands. I visited it with my mom with the money I saved from my first serious jobs. A little bit before she married my idiot step-father.)

Your “I promised my dentist I don’t have a sweet tooth”,

J.M

***

Dear Mr. “I have veneers in all my teeth after I ate the entire menu of Little Kook in one day” J.M.

Thank you for your recommendation. I didn’t visit it in the meantime, but my mom who was in Greece did and she loved it. She told me to come to Athens with her and visit again, but I have too much work. So, she sent me photos of Greek street cats and one of them is the one I’m sending you. I have a funny thought that maybe, when I finally get to visit it with my partner, you’ll be there too with yours, after your chosen one will accept your advances. Good luck with it and send her photos from Little Kook too, while promising to pay and organise the entire trip. 

Your very busy right now,

Y.D.

***

You tried your best to fall asleep for two hours, but it wasn’t working. You were seeing Jason daily for the past two months, eating lunch together at his expense, sometimes even dinner. Once, you convinced him to let you pay, which was an achievement, considering he didn’t let you do it even when you lost that bet. And you also convinced him to act as if he was proposing to you with one of his rings to get a discount. It worked. The problem was that you played the role so well, you nearly let him kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you, you really did, but not like that. There was something you needed to do first – finish the cat cafe. The opening date was one week away. And from your observations, the arrival time of the postcard was also around four to five business days. If you wrote the next message now, it would arrive by the time it should. All your hope was in the French Postal Office. And you, that you would have the courage to do everything. 

On your way to work, you let the postcard slip your fingers inside the mail collecting box. Your cheeks were as red as when you did it for the first time. But your legs were heavier with each step you took. Before entering the building, you stopped. Jason’s car was already at the entrance. You needed a little help, a little push, a little support. And you knew for sure who could give it to you.

“Thank you for convincing me to send that postcard to Ioan. Now I am way better at expressing myself than I was a few months ago. You truly are my best friend.”

When you entered and walked towards the meeting point of your team, you felt a buzz in your pocket. 

“You can do it. You go girl!” 

Yes, you could. You could do it. It was the last meeting before the opening and the entire team had other projects to take care of, unable to go daily to the cat cafe. So, it had to be done now. 

Your hand slipped into your bag and you put behind the thing that you took out. Jason didn’t see you yet and it was the perfect opportunity. He seemed to wait to talk with the owner but Elenda was keeping him busy. You knew him for long enough to understand from his body language that he was getting impatient: hands crossed, changing positions every half a minute, looking at his watch every now and then. And boom! You put the cat ears you were hiding on his head. He turned to you immediately, not understanding what just happened. 

“Keep the evening of the opening day free. You have to see what a great job I have done on this project.”

You wanted to wait for his answer, but your heart was beating too hard to let you hear anything. So, you found your rescue in Danica who liked to talk your ears off about her two cats and apparently, you were the only one ready to hear her. Elenda could probably do it too, but Elenda was also getting overly excited and it was turning into a war of who would talk for longer. 

For the next few days you barely saw anyone from Goldreamz. If you needed something, you would message Danica or the owner of the cafe. You didn’t even know if Jason accepted your invitation or not. 

Jason also didn’t have the easiest time either. He didn’t know if you were joking or not. You seemed serious, even if you did it in a playful way. But something couldn’t let him sleep: was going to the cat cafe what he thought it was or did you change your mind at some point? He even started to question his deduction skills, a thing he had never done till now. He was taking his phone in his hands to message you, then throwing it back, then taking it and writing the message and then delete it. He couldn’t work like this, so after the opening in which he didn’t see you, he went back home. The owner told him you visited in the morning hours and you two split only by a few minutes. He wanted to believe that the date – if it was really the date he waited for – was still on. 

Once again, Jason opened his mailbox. But he stopped before looking inside. 

“I’ll come to your place in one hour,” he finally wrote. Jason hit the Send button and immediately put his phone away. 

In his mailbox was a postcard with the photo of the cat cafe that just opened. Jason rolled his index finger ring with his thumb. Maybe, just maybe, you were asking for what he thought you were.

“I know who you are =)) 

Message me.”