#the more i learn about him the worst it gets

[keepinitcozy]

I want to say, as someone who voted him in because I felt like he was my only option as my family and friends said he was our best candidate(idk why I listened), I genuinely regret it. I can't believe I just voted without thinking and I know everyone will probably think I don't really regret voting for him, but I do. This is one of the worst mistakes I've made in my life. I'm praying that this doesn't get any worse and if it does that I have the strength to help and protect those that need it.

Sorry for the word vomit, I just had to get this off my chest, and if yall want to cancel me or unfollow me I understand. I know I deserve every ounce of anger any of you hold towards me. Please know, G-d willing, I will make more informed choices in the future and take the time to research the candidates, and in the meantime I'm learning more about politics and trying to protest this regime in all the ways that I can.

he is literally signing away years of progress, soon enough the civil rights acts will probably be gone too

[whosashan]

I've got my eyes on you

In which - How did you and the LaDS men start dating? Reader is not mc - except in Caleb's section.

Xavier

The moment you laid eyes on Xavier, you knew you had to have him. How could you not? That strikingly handsome face, those curious blue eyes, and an effortlessly captivating presence—it was impossible to resist.

The first time you approached him was at a grocery store. Your heart pounded against your ribs, threatening to break free from your chest, but you forced yourself to remain composed. Summoning your courage, you struck up a conversation.

He didn’t seem particularly interested, responding with brief, lackluster answers.

‘It’s fine, he’ll warm up to me,’ you assured yourself, determination flickering in your gaze. You had never pursued a man before, but this time was different. There was something about him—something magnetic—that refused to let you walk away.

Somehow, you managed to secure his phone number, and you wasted no time texting him, attempting to revive the conversation from earlier.

With persistence, you chipped away at his guarded demeanor, gradually uncovering bits and pieces of who he was. One particularly useful detail you learned? He lived close by. Another? His cooking skills were, to put it lightly, atrocious.

‘Perfect,’ you mused, making a beeline for your kitchen. It was time to put those cooking classes to good use.

Weeks turned into months, and an unspoken routine formed between the two of you—you would cook, and he would eat. As cliché as it was, the old saying held true: the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach. Your bond deepened, not in a whirlwind of passion, but in slow, comfortable moments. And you didn’t mind one bit.

Late-night arcade outings, spontaneous hangouts, and occasional movie nights became the norm. And every time he fell asleep beside you, his face soft, his messy hair falling over his slightly flushed cheeks, your heart stuttered in your chest.

But with familiarity came a new problem: you had started to care, truly care, and with that realization, your once-unshakable confidence wavered. Flirting had been easy before, playful and teasing, but now? Now, every word felt heavier, every glance more meaningful. And the worst part? You were sure he didn’t even notice.

The final straw came when you noticed a certain colleague of his getting too close for your liking. That was it. You couldn’t put this off any longer.

“Hey, Xayxay, can you meet up? I want to talk to you about something,” you texted, before promptly throwing your phone onto your bed as if that would somehow lessen the weight of your nerves.

You waited. And waited.

It felt like an eternity.

Then, a sudden knock at your door.

You nearly tripped over yourself in your rush to open it. And there he was—Xavier, slightly breathless, eyes laced with concern, like he had practically run to get here.

“Did something happen?” he asked, stepping inside with the ease of someone who had long since made themselves at home in your space. And you loved that.

You sighed, wringing your hands together.

“Look, I don’t want to put this off any longer…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Xavier, I like you. More than a friend.”

You braced yourself for rejection. But instead, you were met with his puzzled stare.

“…Aren’t we dating?”

“…What?”

“…What?”

So, it turned out you had nothing to worry about after all.

Zayne

On your way home, you stepped into a charming little pastry shop near the hospital. The aroma of freshly baked goods filled the air, making your mouth water in anticipation. You could already picture yourself sinking your teeth into a rich, decadent cake.

As you stood in line, your gaze landed on a man whose face was so strikingly handsome it felt almost unfair. There was an air of quiet composure about him, an effortless grace that made it nearly impossible to look away. You found yourself studying him, mind racing with ways to strike up a conversation. How often did you come across someone this captivating?

"Excuse me, sir." Your voice took on a honeyed sweetness that made you cringe internally, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You seem like quite the pastry connoisseur. I don’t come here often, so I’d love a recommendation." A harmless lie.

He turned his gaze toward you, expression unreadable. Crossing his arms, he seemed to consider your question carefully before responding.

"If you’re looking for something light, the macarons are an excellent choice. If you prefer something more substantial, the caramel cheesecake is exquisite." His tone was smooth, assured—like a man who always knew the right answer.

At least he had good taste.

"Ahh, thank you! I’ll definitely try both," you said, flashing him a bright smile. Then, before you could lose your nerve, you added, "If you’re not busy, maybe we could enjoy them together here?"

Where had this sudden boldness come from?

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a small nod, he answered, "I do have a break from work right now. Alright."

You nearly leapt with joy, but just as you were about to celebrate internally—

"Ahh, Y/N! My favorite customer! What can I get for you today?" the cashier called out cheerfully.

You froze. Busted.

Despite the momentary embarrassment, the interaction led to an exchange of phone numbers. You didn’t get to see Zayne often due to his demanding career as a doctor, but he always found time to text back, even indulging your occasional rants. Sometimes, he even called. The slow progression of your relationship was something you treasured, a delicate dance of growing affection.

Time passed, and though you longed to ask Zayne out, you hesitated. He almost seemed too good to be true. Would he ever truly be interested in you?

Then, there were the little things—how his gaze lingered a second too long, how his hand seemed to hover over yours before pulling away, how, despite his overwhelming schedule, he always carved out time for you. Were those hints? Or were you reading too much into it?

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the soft ping of a notification. Your heart jumped as you picked up your phone. A message from Zayne.

"Are you free tonight?"

Such a simple text, yet it sent heat rushing through your body.

"For sure! What do you want to do?" you replied, fingers trembling slightly as you awaited his response.

"I’d love to take you out."

Your breath hitched. Take you out. As in… a date?

You stared at the message, searching for any alternate meaning, but there was none.

"I would love that, Zayne," you finally typed, hands shaking.

"Lovely. I’ll pick you up at 7."

You practically sprinted to your room to get ready.

The evening was nothing short of perfect. He took you to a refined restaurant, surprising you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers—proof that he had been listening all along. The air between you was charged with something different, something new yet thrilling.

After dinner, the two of you strolled beneath a sky blanketed with stars, the crisp night air adding an almost cinematic touch to the moment.

"You’re shivering," he observed, his voice as calm and measured as ever. Without hesitation, he slipped off his coat and draped it over your shoulders, the warmth of the fabric—and of him—enveloping you.

"Thank you…" you murmured, smiling softly but avoiding his gaze, afraid he’d see just how deeply he affected you.

"Y/N." He came to a halt, prompting you to stop as well. His tone was composed, yet there was an unfamiliar weight behind it.

"I would love to take you out more… What I mean is, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" His face remained impassive, but you swore you caught the faintest hint of a blush gracing his cheeks.

Your heart nearly exploded.

"I would love nothing more, Zayne."

Rafayel

Being an art enthusiast, you often found yourself wandering through exhibitions, losing yourself in the beauty of each piece. Tonight, however, felt different. This was Rafayel’s exhibition—a name that had long held a certain power over you. His art possessed an almost hypnotic quality, evoking emotions so profound that you struggled to put them into words.

As you moved through the gallery, your gaze inevitably found him. Rafayel stood amidst a small group of admirers, answering their questions with an effortless confidence. His voice was smooth, steady, rich with an underlying intensity that made it impossible to ignore.

But it wasn’t just his voice that captivated you. He was a masterpiece himself—dressed in a crisp white blouse, his dark hair slightly tousled, his sharp eyes carrying a quiet depth. There was something about the way he carried himself, as if knowing the effect he had on people.

You didn't want to appear as just another admirer swooning over the artist. Your fascination went beyond that—you were genuinely intrigued by his mind, his process. So, when the crowd around him began to disperse, leaving him momentarily alone, you took a steadying breath and approached him. He stood before one of his paintings, his gaze heavy with contemplation.

"You truly know how to capture a moment," you mused, your voice steady but tinged with admiration. "This piece in particular—it feels almost melancholic, like someone longing for something just out of reach."

Rafayel’s eyes flicked toward you, scanning your face, weighing your words. For a brief moment, you feared he might dismiss you with the same aloofness he granted others, but instead, his lips curved into something almost thoughtful. And just like that, an unspoken understanding passed between you, giving way to a conversation that carried on far longer than you had expected.

That first meeting was the spark. You found yourself returning to his exhibitions more often, drawn not just to his art but to him. It became a quiet routine—the two of you engaging in deep discussions, learning the intricacies of each other's thoughts and mannerisms. At first, Rafayel maintained his usual air of arrogance, teasing and enigmatic, but with time, you glimpsed something more—something raw and unguarded beneath the facade.

It wasn’t long before your admiration deepened into something more. You had fallen for him, hopelessly so. And you liked to think, in stolen moments of lingering glances and fleeting touches, that perhaps he felt the same.

One evening, you found yourself in his studio, sitting on the floor as he worked, the only sounds being the occasional stroke of his brush against canvas. The atmosphere was comforting, intimate in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

“And you’re talkative, as always.” A soft smile played on your lips as you stood and walked toward him.

“Rafayel, can I ask you something?” The hesitation in your voice made him pause. He turned to face you, one brow arched in curiosity.

“Why so serious?” he asked, studying you intently.

You scoffed lightly. “Never mind, then.”

He let out a small sigh. "You’ve already started. Might as well finish."

You hesitated for a beat before finally speaking. “Do you… have someone you like? More than a friend, I mean.”

For a fleeting second, something unreadable passed through his gaze. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Curious, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle before answering, “There is someone. She’s insufferably stubborn, a little reckless, and quite possibly the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” His gaze softened, a rare warmth creeping into his tone. “And yet, she’s also the most endearing.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “You need to be more specific.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “If you weren’t so oblivious, you’d figure it out.”

A teasing smile spread across your lips. “Wait—are you talking about me?” You nudged him playfully.

He said nothing, his focus returning to his painting.

Oh.

“YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT ME?” you blurted, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a small crush,” he scoffed, though the faint pink dusting his ears betrayed him.

A laugh bubbled out of you, pure and unrestrained. “Aww, Rafayel! I like you too.”

His expression flickered with surprise before he quickly masked it with his usual confidence. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”

Despite his words, his actions spoke differently—pulling you into his arms, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Perhaps, just this once, he didn’t mind wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Sylus

Sleep had eluded you, leaving you restless and craving the crisp night air. The city was bathed in the gentle glow of streetlights, the sky an endless expanse of inky black adorned with shimmering stars. Their quiet brilliance was captivating, an ethereal distraction that kept your gaze skyward as you wandered aimlessly through the quiet streets.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure in your path until you collided with him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—” you started, but your words caught in your throat as you looked up at him.

The man before you was striking. Towering in stature, his silver hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, tousled in a way that made it appear effortlessly elegant. But it was his eyes that truly seized your breath—deep crimson, piercing and intense, as if they could unravel every secret hidden within you. His features were sharp, sculpted to perfection, and his presence exuded an air of undeniable dominance.

He regarded you with a smirk, his amusement evident.

“Worry not, sweet thing,” he murmured, his voice a velvety caress against your senses. The smoothness of his tone sent a shiver down your spine, deepening the warmth blooming in your cheeks. His gaze flickered over your face, noting your reaction, and his smirk grew ever so slightly.

Only then did you realize what else you had stumbled upon. A few feet away, a man knelt on the pavement, head bowed, his entire posture trembling before the silver-haired stranger. The sight sent unease prickling up your spine.

What exactly had you just walked into?

The silver-haired man followed your gaze before exhaling softly. “Ah,” he mused, as if debating what to say. “A young lady like you shouldn’t be wandering alone at this hour. The night is filled with monsters, after all.”

The way he said it, with that knowing glint in his crimson eyes, sent a fresh wave of unease through you. Somehow, you knew he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. But instead of pressing for answers, something in you decided it was best not to ask.

“I was just out for some air. I should…probably head home now.” You forced a steady voice, willing your body not to betray the apprehension creeping into your bones. Every instinct in you screamed to run, yet your legs remained locked in place, unwilling to reveal your fear.

He tilted his head slightly, watching you. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Allow me to escort you.”

Your breath hitched. “You seem more dangerous than whatever else is lurking out here.”

A rich chuckle escaped him, dark and amused. “A fair observation.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze never wavering. “But that decision, my dear, is entirely yours.”

Despite every warning sign flashing in your mind, you hesitated. There was something about him—his presence was undeniably commanding, yet oddly reassuring. And then, there was the nagging feeling that he was familiar, though you couldn't place why.

Eventually, you gave a small nod, curiosity overpowering reason.

And so began your entanglement with Sylus. The enigmatic man came and went like a shadow, slipping in and out of your life at his whim. Some nights, he would appear unexpectedly, gifting you your favorite sweets or leaving a new dress draped across your doorstep with no explanation. Tickets to your favorite concerts would mysteriously find their way into your mailbox, the sender unstated but obvious.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating. He was impossible to understand, yet he made you feel desired—seen in a way no one else ever had.

But after monthsof his unpredictable vanishing acts, your patience wore thin. So when he strolled into your apartment one evening, pouring himself a glass of the wine you had bought earlier, you finally snapped.

“You’re confusing me,” you blurted, frustration lacing your tone. “What am I to you, Sylus?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. He raised the glass to his lips but paused, considering your words. Slowly, he set the drink down and approached you, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. When he reached out to cup your cheek, you instinctively pushed his hand away, resolve burning in your gaze.

He sighed. Vulnerability did not come easily to him; that much was clear. But you were different. You had made him a little softer, a little weaker in ways he didn’t quite understand.

“I can’t keep living in uncertainty,” you continued, voice steadier now. “Either tell me what you want, or leave me alone.”

A beat of silence stretched between you before he spoke, his voice low, certain.

“I want you.”

The simplicity of the statement sent your heart racing. You hadn’t expected him to be so direct, nor for his words to carry such weight.

Your face grew hot. “You’re an idiot.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest as you sighed, resting your head against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He smelled of something rich and warm, a scent you couldn’t quite place but already found comforting.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Sylus merely hummed in amusement, his arms wrapping around you with the quiet possessiveness of a man who had no intention of letting go.

Caleb

After your reunion with Caleb, an unfamiliar feeling took root in your chest—no, not unfamiliar. It had always been there, buried beneath layers of friendship and denial. But now, it was impossible to ignore. Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of just how much of a man he had become.

His kind yet brooding eyes, that boyish grin, the intoxicating scent that lingered on his clothes—had he always smelled this good? Broad shoulders, strong arms, hands that had always handled you with ease, lifting you effortlessly whenever. The thought alone sent heat creeping up your cheeks, and the man sitting across from you clearly took notice.

“What’s got you all blushy-blushy, pipsqueak?” he teased, pinching your cheek with that infuriatingly smug smirk.

You scoffed, turning your face away. “Don’t touch my face, Caleb! I have makeup on.”

Lately, you’d found yourself caring more about your appearance around him. It was absurd. He’d seen you at your absolute worst���bedhead, tears, even the aftermath of too much liquor. Yet now, every glance he sent your way made you feel… shy? What was happening to you?

He only chuckled in response, leaning back against his chair.

The two of you had met up at a café to play Kitty Cards, an old favorite. He always let you win, though he never admitted it. You pretended not to notice, but every time you did, it made you smile—just a little.

“Alright, come on. The movie’s gonna start soon.” He stood, extending his hand toward you. Without hesitation, you took it, savoring the warmth of his rough palm against yours.

The movie of choice was a horror film—Caleb’s idea, of course. You had agreed, partly to humor him and partly because any excuse to spend more time with him was welcome.

Inside the theater, you sat beside him, the glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. The flickering light made his eyes glimmer, and for a moment, you were caught staring. You quickly looked away, but not before he noticed. Of course he noticed.

“You’re acting weird.” His gaze lingered on you, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I—uh—I’m on my period,” you blurted, grasping for an excuse. “That’s all. I just feel a little unwell.”

His expression softened instantly. “You should’ve told me. Do you want to go home? I’ll cook you some soup, and we can watch something there instead.”

There he was again—always caring, always thinking of you. It made your heart race, and you hated how easily he could do that to you.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just watch the movie.”

As the film progressed, it proved to be far scarier than you’d anticipated. Without realizing it, you had latched onto Caleb’s hand. He chuckled at your reaction but didn’t pull away.

Then came the jump scare.

Out of reflex, you turned toward him, seeking comfort. But at the same moment, he turned toward you.

Peck.

Your lips brushed against his.

Your breath hitched. His eyes widened slightly, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Just stared.

“I’m so sorry!” you yelped, whipping your head away in mortification.

“Hey, it’s fine, pipsqueak.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “It was an accident.”

You didn’t know why, but his words stung a little.

“…Yeah.”

By the time you returned home, your shoulders were weighed down with something heavy, something unspoken. It gnawed at you, clawed at your chest.

Caleb, as if sensing your turmoil, placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face him. “Alright, that’s enough. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to the floor before gathering the courage to meet his eyes.

“Caleb… would it be selfish of me if I said I want to kiss you again?”

Silence. A single, tense moment stretched between you, thick enough to drown in. Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hands cupped your face, disregarding your earlier complaint about ruining your makeup, and with a quiet exhale, he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, tender—yet it held the weight of something long overdue. In that moment, you knew he was no longer only your best friend.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Where Do You End Pt. 1

Main Masterlist

Read on A03! - Pt. 2

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, light angst, body swap, mentions of smut, humor, horniness, very weird

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have found yourself in a body swap situation, but your bodies don't seem to be aware of that. They keep trying to do what they always do.

And what they always do isn't really something either of you what the other to know about.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! On god I made it as weird as it could get. I'm proud of me. Also, we're once again looking at multiple parts. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.5k

This was fucking weird. 

Dean knew wasn’t exactly worth saying—it might be the most obvious statement in history—but this was so fucking weird. Weird in a way that made his brain feel a little fuzzy, that made his skin itch because there was no way this was real.

But there was certainly a way this was real.

And it wasn’t Dean’s skin that was itchy. 

She had nice skin. It was soft and comfortable to be inside of, the callouses on Her hands felt better placed than the ones on Dean’s, and there were scars that he’d sometimes touch on accident that felt more like art than stains. Her hair felt right whenever he’d brush his fingers through it. Her waist was perfect to hold whenever he’d brace his hands on his hips. And when Dean would reach up to rub his jaw, he’d be slammed with another reminder that this wasn’t his jaw. It was too smooth, at a different angle, and far too good.

This was the jaw he’d dreamt of holding and angling back. Of kissing a soft line across, sucking a small, dark mark on, or nipping at until everyone could see that Dean had been here. That his hand had wrapped around Her neck because she trusted him there, and he’d been holding Her chin up so She could look him in the eyes as they grinned at each other.

She had the prettiest smile. Her lips would curve up at the perfect angle, her eyes would shine like small stars, and every little line on Her face would serve as evidence that She was happy.

Dean hadn’t seen Her smile in a while. Not at him. Not like She used to. 

And he certainly wouldn’t see it now. He couldn’t.

All he could see was himself, across the room, rolling on the balls of his feet and sucking on his teeth as he thought.

As She thought.

This was so weird.

“I don’t like this.” She muttered, and Dean frowned. His voice sounded rougher, deeper, and heavier from outside. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, or how to interpret the small shivers up his spine and over his skin. 

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, in her sweet and musical voice, and he liked how it sounded. He’d always loved how She said her own name, like it was an answer to something or the only lesson Dean would ever need to learn. “Is it really that bad to be stuck in my body-“

“Yes.” She snapped, raising Her chin and glaring down at him, and now his heart was beating faster. “This feels weird, and I don’t like seeing you be me. You’re doing it wrong.”

Dean frowned, and Her hair fell over his eyes. “How the hell am I doing it-“

“You’re sitting wrong. Your legs are too wide, I don’t lean like that, and when I frown it’d not supposed to look like I’m trying to murder someone.”

Dean disagreed with that last one. Shit, for months the only expression he’d gotten from Her was a frown that told him She wanted him dead. 

He didn’t blame Her. He wasn’t all too happy with himself either, but it had been the only option. She wanted him. She said She wanted him, and she hadn’t been lying, and that had been the worst thing in the world.

If She hadn’t really wanted him, Dean could’ve offered himself in all his broken, foul glory and She would’ve walked away all by herself. Dean never would’ve needed to worry about losing Her, because he wouldn’t have had Her to begin with. But She’d said Dean Winchester, I want you, and he’d fucking believed Her. He never believed people when they said that. 

And him believing Her meant Dean could lose Her. Could truly let Her down and get her hurt. 

So he’d said no. He’d lied with practiced ease—through his teeth and with a flat expression—and told Her he didn’t see her like that. That She was his best friend, and he’d just never felt that for Her.

She nodded, and backed off. Smiling less and frowning more and still joking with him but never bumping their feet together under a table or leaning Her head on his shoulder. 

It was what he’d wanted. She was safer, and still within Dean’s reach to just see Her, to know she was okay. But he’d never expected to touch Her again. He’d made his peace with the fact that She’d always be just a stretch away, but never his to hold.

And now he could only hold Her. Only rub Her thighs when he was thinking, only touch her face when he tried to brush Her hair away, only feel Her everywhere, every second, until he drove himself mad.

He didn’t know if he wanted to thank the witch that had done this, or kill them again.

Right now he was leaning towards the later, if only because he really didn’t like seeing Her in his body. It wasn’t just weird. It was wrong.

“You’re not exactly acting like me either, sweetheart.” Dean raised his brows, and watched his own face drop into a further glower. “You’re standing too much like a girl.”

She scoffed. “What the fuck does that even mean-“

“You’re too relaxed-“

“Relaxed?”

“Yeah.” He tried to raise his chin, but Her hair fell in his face again. He didn’t know how the hell he was suppose to do anything when he had to keep it out of his face. “And you gotta walk slower. We’re not in a rush-“

“I’m in a rush! I told you, Dean, I don’t like this-“

“I’m not a big fan either!” He snapped. “But what the hell are we suppose to do about it? Every time we’ve tried to tell Sammy he hasn’t heard us-“

She rolled Her eyes. And they were Dean’s eyes, but that was Her eye roll. “That’s the curse, dumbass. We have to break it-“

“I got that, sweetheart, but I’m not seeing how you plan to do that without help-“

“I have you, Dean.” Her voice—his voice—was louder. Firmer. Commanding. It made his gut warm, and his body—Her body—sit a little taller of his own accord. “You’re on research duty, buddy. Let’s go.”

Dean scowled. He hated it when She called him buddy. He wasn’t Her buddy, he was supposed to be Her-

Nothing. Dean was Her nothing, because he’d been so very careful to make and keep it that way.

And that knowledge never stopped him from wanting Her. Wanting Her so bad that, when he’d glance down at her hands, now in his control, he couldn’t stop wondering if he’d ever get to feel them like this again. Rubbing against skin and tracing over the curve of his lips and trailing nails on his legs.

It didn’t really count. That wasn’t Dean’s body that he was feeling. But the touch felt real, and he didn’t really want to let it go yet, not if this was the closest to holding Her he’d ever get. Just a small, torturous reparation for his sacrifice of never really having her, where he got to memorize Her body and keep it in his head forever.

“C’mon,” Dean said Her name, because he wanted a little more time. A longer chance to exist in this purgatory, because he’d never get the chance to fully enter heaven. “You don’t need my help-“

“Yes, I do.” She snapped, grabbing Her jacket from the bed and marching to the door. “Get up. We’re going.”

Dean didn’t want to get up, but Her body didn’t seem to agree with him. He pushed off the bed and gained an unsteady balance, because Her knees were oddly weak. She wasn’t weak—She hunted like an animal and had used this very body to knock Dean flat on his ass—but something was making him lightheaded and dizzy. 

He was probably just hungry. They hadn’t eaten since the curse hit. 

“If we’re doing this,” he grumbled, shuffling to put on Her shoes. “We’re doing it with food.”

“Deal.” She tried to shrug on Her jacket, froze when it didn’t fit around Dean’s body, and chucked it right at his face. “Wear that. I don’t want you getting me a cold.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but put on the jacket. She was already pissed, and this wasn’t worth fighting about.

“This is so weird,” She mumbled, shaking Dean’s head. “C’mon, Winchester, we’re fixing this-“

“Wait,” Dean frowned, patting his pockets—Her pockets—and scanning around the motel room. “Where are my keys-“

“You mean these keys?”

He turned to see Her holding up the Impala’s keys, a shit-eating grin on Her face. 

Dean narrowed his eyes, holding out his hand. “Gimme my keys.”

“No.” She shrugged, Her grin growing. “I think I’m good.”

“I’m not asking, sweetheart-“

“Okay. You take them, they’re yours.”

She walked out of the motel room, and Dean’s eyes widened. There was no fucking way She was driving his car.

“They are mine!” He shouted, sprinting after Her. “Just cause you’re in my damn body-“

Her body was faster than Dean was used to. He almost slammed right into Her back—His back—and an undignified sound left his when Her arms wrapped around his waist, catching him from a fall and holding him right to Her chest.

He’d never realized he was that broad. Or that strong. She was holding Dean like he was paper, and looking at him with shining eyes—he could see the real Her almost glowing in his body—and grinning with Her whole face. Dean’s whole face, with crinkles near his eyes he hadn’t known he had, and stubble on his jaw he’d meant to shave today.

Her hands were rubbing his waist. It was the small, careful circles he always dreamt of leaving on Her hips and arms. 

He wasn’t sure She knew she was doing it.

“Uh,” Dean cleared his throat, because She needed to let go now. Her touch was burning on his body, and they hadn’t really touched since the curse hit, so maybe they weren’t allowed to. “Keys.”

She shook Her head. “This is my one chance to drive, Dean-“

“It’s my freakin’ car-“

“And I’m you.” She raised Her brows, still holding him, and the fiery feeling got worse. “I’m driving.”

He should’ve fought more. But Her hand squeezed him lightly, and his whole body grew molten. 

She needed to let go of him now. 

He tried to grunt Her name, but it just came out breathy and soft. “You crash it-“

“I pay for the repairs.”

Dean scowled, but gave in. Right now She was stronger and taller than he was, and Dean didn’t really want to lose any dignity trying to physically take the keys. 

And She didn’t crash it. Dean watched Her drive with careful attention—grumbling about what She was doing wrong until She shot him the deadliest glare he’d ever seen—and She never even came close to crashing. Her hands were big and firm and broad on Baby’s wheel, and Her arms would flex when she shifted the wheel, and there was a set look of determination on Her face that made her jaw look shaper-

That was not Her jaw. That was his jaw. And his arms, and his hands, and he wasn’t sure why the hell his eyes had been wandering over himself like that. He didn’t know why the hell he could feel his heartbeat in his throat and stomach. 

He wasn’t in full control. When they parked, his body didn’t want to move until She helped him out of his seat, and Dean didn’t miss the look of confusion on Her face, like she wasn’t entirely certain why She’d done that. It was the same expression she had when She guided him inside, or when She opened the door for him.

Those were things Dean always did for Her. He wasn’t used to a hand on his back, or how nice it felt there. Secure, like a tether that told him he’d be alright. He didn’t understand why his body leaned closer to Her’s as they walked, or why his stomach kept doing little flips when Her eyes would fall from scanning over the diner and land on his.

He felt so unbelievably safe and calm. Hell, he’d never felt like this. Like the sky could fall and it would be fine, because the body across from his in the booth would catch it. 

This was a really weird curse.

“You’re going to take notes,” She said, pushing a stack of books across the table that She must have pulled out of her ass. “I’ll look for something online.”

Dean frowned, shaking his head. The fucking hair was in his face again. “Why do I have to do the notes-“

“Because I have better handwriting, and you have my hands.” She handed him a notebook and pencil, and their fingers brushed, sending small sparks of electricity through Dean’s blood. “Tell me if you find something.”

“Nah, sweetheart. I think I’ll have some pie and do the online research-”

Dean had started to push everything back across the table, but he froze at the glare on Her face. It was downright domineering, and did weird things to his brain. He felt fuzzy. 

“You’re doing notes.” She grunted, and Dean definitely felt at least a little dizzy. “That’s it.”

His voice was high and almost bratty in his own ears. He didn’t like it. “But-“

“Don’t test me, Winchester. I swear to god I’ll eat a salad.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you for a run.”

Dean tensed. “You wouldn’t fuckin’ dare-“

“You wanna bet?”

She’d won the argument again. Those were the arguments Dean was supposed to win. He was supposed to be able to talk his way out of anything with Her. To smirk and wink and tease Her until she broke rank from Sam’s side, and Dean didn’t have to do the stupid parts of the cases anymore. He hadn’t taken notes in years. He hated taking notes, and he wanted to keep pushing until order was restored and She was doing the notes—she usually loved doing the notes—but Her body had other ideas.

His mouth couldn’t figure out how to open and snap at Her. His body was molded and frozen into the seat whenever She’d look at him, and something kept humming in his chest whenever She’d talk. He was taking notes because he couldn’t remember how not to—how to grab the laptop or point at Her with a stern finger—and Dean’s was writing fast and neat, and his hand wasn’t cramping.

His foot kept aching to inch forward and press on Her calf. His fingers kept wanting to reach out and trace Her jaw. Dean wanted to sit on Her lap—he could never say that one aloud—because his body seemed to think it would be comfortable. 

This curse was insane. He didn’t need to try and act like Her anymore, because his body—Her body—still seemed to remember how She was supposed to move. He found his hands spinning the pen between Her fingers like he’d seen her do a million times. His legs were crossed on the booth instead of spread under the table. He ordered a burger, but he couldn’t eat it. It was too greasy and heavy, and he already felt a little sick from just one bite. 

She’d ordered chicken nuggets, and put Her usual disgusting amount of ketchup on the plate, but barely touched them.

They smelled really good. Dean was starving, his mouth watering as he couldn’t stop staring at them—or Her, in his body, but he didn’t really want to dwell on that—and when She glanced up at him, Her eyes flicked to the burger in front of him.

They traded plates without a word. And Dean had never seen himself eat before, but he finally understood why Sam was always so annoyed with him. She inhaled that thing, chewing loudly and wiping Her mouth with the back of her hand, licking her fingers clean and making disgusting smacking sounds-

The sounds should’ve been disgusting. Instead they settled in Dean’s gut, lighting a small fire he didn’t know how to stop feeding. He couldn’t figure out how to not stare at Her, arms braced on the table and brow furrowed as she read something on the laptop screen. 

He had to excuse himself to go get more drinks. 

“One beer.” He muttered, then immediately cringed. Beer sounded foul to his mouth. “Actually, make it a milkshake.”

“Hey, darlin’.” 

Some poor chick at the bar war probably getting hit on. The lady behind the counter seemed motherly. She’d handle it if it got out of hand, and Dean had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Problems like how if he didn’t have a milkshake right now, he might actually die.

“What flavor, sweetheart?” The server asked, and Dean frowned. Being called sweetheart was weird.

He responded with Her usual order—hopefully that would satisfy his unwelcome craving—and someone off the side cleared the throat.

“You gonna answer me?”

A hand landed on Dean’s arm, and he flinched. It felt clammy and wrong on his body. Like a weight that settled into his bones and sent a creeping, itchy feeling over his skin.

He turned to see a fairly tall, well-built man grinning at him with an almost predatory smile. It made his body go rigid, almost shrinking in on itself.

“Are you, uh,” he frowned. “You talking to me?”

The man laughed. It was too loud, with not warmth, and echoed like a gunshot in his skull. “Course I am, sweetheart. I don’t see any other pretty girls ‘round.”

Oh.

Dean was the poor chick being hit on. 

And he hated it. His body hated it. Not only was this man’s touch wrong, his voice was wrong. It slithered over Dean’s gut and chest, making everything in him recoiled and balk, because that was not how he was supposed to be called sweetheart. 

“I, um,” he glanced back to the booth, frowning when he realized She was gone. “Listen, dude, I’m not-“

“Dude?” The man laughed. “We can do better than that, baby-“

Dean might have visibly recoiled. He hated baby, only one voice felt like it was supposed to call him baby, even if it never had-

He didn’t know what was happening, or why he was having such a visceral reaction to something that should’ve been passive and boring. Dean knew She got hit on all the time, because she was a fucking knockout, and his usual reaction to it was a possessive anger he had no right to feel. Not disgust, or a weird desire to retreat and hide-

“What’s going on?”

That was Dean’s own voice. And there was a large presence behind him that felt reliable. That his body wanted to lean back into.

When Dean turned, She was right there with narrowed eyes. 

He didn’t love how he immediately felt better, and softer, and a little light-headed.

“Hey, man, you gotta wait your turn-“

“My turn?” She snorted. “Walk away from hi- her, buddy, or I’ll kick your ass. I can do that now.”

She puffed Her chest, and—as soon as his brain remembered how to not be static warmth—Dean would have to talk to Her about not abusing his body for unapproved bar fights.

The man scoffed. “Bro, there ain’t no way this is your girl-“

“She is.” Her voice was dry, her face flat. “In more ways than you can imagine. Go.”

Dean was starting to like this curse less. To start, he didn’t appreciate the speed at which the idea of Her being his girl had been dismissed. He also wasn’t a huge fan of how She’d called him his girl, and he’d liked it. She’d been talking about how Dean was in Her body, and she probably didn’t want a random creep trying to get in her pants. 

Dean’s body—Her body—loved the sound of Her agreement in his voice. It made him feel tingly. 

It didn’t help how She was touching him—holding his arms as She glared at the man over his head—and it kicked the feeling from a soft, warm hum to fireworks. Dean wanted Her hand to meld there and never let go. When the man walked away and She started talking, he never wanted Her to shut up.

“You-“ She swallowed, shaking Her head slightly. “Never mind. I found it.”

Dean blinked at Her. “It?”

“How to tell Sam.

“Oh.” He paused, mostly staring at her as the words sank in, and letting out a long breath of relief escape him when they did. “Awesome.”

She raised Her brows. “You’re pro switching back now?”

“I’ve always been pro switching back-“

“You said it wasn’t that urgent.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind, sweetheart. What’d you find.”

She gave him an odd look—Dean couldn’t tell if it was hurt, annoyance, or absolute indifference—but continued. “We have to work around the curse.”

“What the hell does-“

“We can’t tell Sam that I’m you and you’re me. Every time we have the call gets dropped, or something loud has drowned us out, Sam’s literally fucking hangs up-“

“I know,” Dean drawled Her name, giving Her a flat look. “I was there for all of that-“

“Shut up. My point is every time we’ve tried to explicitly tell him, he hasn’t heard us. So what if we just don’t?”

Dean frowned at Her. “Your solution is to just freakin’… give up? Like we’re a kiddie soccer team that lost one to many matches, and we’re gonna quit and cry about it?”

“No, Dean. My goal is to not say it, but let Sam figure it out himself.”

“How-“

“Think of something only you and Sam know about. Something you’d never disclose to anyone else.” A wide, broad grin was stretching over Her face. Dean’s face.

He couldn’t keep living like this.

“We’ve got a few of those kinds of secrets, but I’m not-“

“You don’t have to tell me. You have to tell Sam, in my voice. Just like I’m going to say one of our secrets in your voice.”

It was a smart plan, and it would probably work. Sam knew She and Dean were being so annoying and weird about each other, so they wouldn’t be spilling deep, dark secrets anytime soon. Sam would hear them, and he was smart, so he’d figure them out. 

But Dean was mostly stuck on the last part of that sentence.

“You and Sammy have secrets?”

She rolled Her eyes. “We’re friends. Of course we have secrets.”

“About what?”

“It’s not a secret if I tell you.”

She crossed Her arms—Dean’s arms—and he wanted them to wrap around him and keep him warm and safe, maybe choke him a little or carry him around everywhere like he was the only thing She was meant to hold-

Jesus. 

“Whatever.” Dean muttered. He needed to get away from Her now. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She frowned. “Can you hold it?”

“Yeah, but why the hell would I-“

“I don’t want you peeing in my body.”

Dean snorted. “Are you freakin’ serious-“

“Yes! You’ll have to wipe-“

“I know how to wipe, sweetheart. And you’re gonna need to take me to piss eventually-“

Dean could swear She blushed. He blushed. Goddamnit. 

“I’d hold it.” She snapped, standing a little taller. “You can go back at the motel, where I can go with you.”

“Why would you need to go with me-“

“I don’t want you touching me there, Dean!” Her voice was a low, hushed shout. “It’s- You don’t get to- I’d need to wipe, and make sure you didn’t look!”

“It’s just a pussy,” he said Her name slowly, and She looked like she was going to kill him.

His horrible body—Her body—wanted to either give in or push harder, until She snapped him in half. 

It seemed to like the idea of Her giving him anything at all.

Dean could work with that.

“Dean, I’m fucking serious-“

“So am I! It’s just a body, ” He sneered, and really wished She was taller. It was hard to be firm and authoritative when She was bigger. 

When this was over, he’d probably respect Her a little more. She shouted and him and Sammy all the time without ever flinching.

“Look, I get that this is weird as hell, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before-”

 “You haven’t seen it before. It’s my vagina, Dean, and you don’t get to see it now. Hold your piss.”

Suddenly, it clicked. She cared that Dean would be touching Her. If it was Sam, She wouldn’t give a shit.

But Dean had lost the right to touch Her there when he’d decided he could never hold Her.

It had felt like a good idea at the time. Past Dean had understood that She deserved better, and She shouldn’t have to live Her whole life with a target on Her back. Past Dean had known that She’d find better, and he’d be forgotten in a few years, and it was better for his to have another good thing slip through his fingers rather than hold it and break it. Past Dean just wanted Her to be happy and safe, and She’d never be both as long as She was attached to him.

Past Dean had been an idiot. That son of a bitch hadn’t needed to pee this bad, and he hadn’t spent months with Her just in reach. 

Dean opened his mouth to say something—not an apology, because he’d make that choice in every life to keep Her safe—but before he could, She was moving. Grabbing the hook of Dean’s arm and pulling him out of the diner.

“That’s my body, Dean.” She snapped. “You’re peeing at the motel.”

Dean grumbled an agreement, and didn’t fight all that hard. He had bigger worries. She was pulling him through the parking lot, and he was letting Her. Shit, he was trying to jog a little to keep up with Her, maybe fall into her side. Just fall into Her. She opened the Impala door and he scowled, but let Her help him inside. Her hand touched his lower back again, and it set off fireworks around his ribs and through his intestines.

He felt weirdly warm and gooey, his skin was tingling again, and when he shifted slightly in his seat he could feet something wet between his legs-

Son of a bitch.

She’d been manhandling him, and he was turned on by it. Her body was turned on by it. She wanted to Dean to jump in his own body and climb it like a tree, and Jesus, that ache between his legs was unbearable, and he wanted his own cock inside off him-

They needed to fix this right fucking now. 

End Note: Brace for incoming smut and silliness and angst. Brewing a perfect storm over here.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007 @jackles010378 @godhelpthisbtch

@ilovedeanwinchester4 @sleepykittycx @immastealurkneecaps @star-yawnznn @maddie0101

@chi-raz @lori19 @wynnthewynnderful @redwinexsupernova @tiana-kh

@woaheasytig3r @canibeyourghoulfriend @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey

@and-i-wish @jsudsgf

[kurstyxscave]

"Huh... Azul-kun sure does have a lot more people around him lately. Guess I have to learn to share..."

(Ah! Im' so excited to finally post this. I love @quartztwst noyansim au so much! So many cute and cool yuusonas. One of my fav's has got to be @liyuviq)

Btw he modified his uniform to fit gyaruo More Info:::

Does Kursor have parents or family?

Yes, but he and his little brother, a first year, room together in the dorms.

What are their thoughts on Quartz?

"I like her hair. Oh wait- She's probably nice. Like the rest of Azul's fan club."

He likes to people watch during lunch, so he has seen her around. He thinks she looks kinda cool.

What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

They met when he went to check out the board game club before signing up. They are on good terms, but Kursor doubts that Azul would call him a friend even though he feels that way. He really likes beating Azul in games and teasing them over it, mostly because he likes watching him get red in the face and get all competitive. Those feelings make Kursor assume he might have a crush on Azul.

What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

"Idia? Oh he's cool I guess. We both like BeatCats, so its not that hard to talk to him."

Only really ever hangout or talk in the clubroom. They can be caught talking for long bouts of time over all kinds of dorky shit. Kursor is super into dorks, so he overlooks Idia's worst traits.

"T-Trey?! Who told you to ask me about him?"

Massive crush on him and shit at hiding it. He has the awful habit of staring and occasionally literally drooling over Trey.

"I like their cardigan... Maybe I should get one... Oh! I want to draw her!"

He gets too anxious to start conversations with any of them outside of compliments, small greetings, and basic etiquette. So he people watches and draws whomever he feels like. Though, he does get a little jealous of the other rivals. He likes being able to hang out with Azul whenever he wants and gets anxious over losing that.

What grade/year is he?

He's a 3rd year (18).

What is Kursor's goal for the school year or in life?

He hopes to make more friends, or maybe even a partner, during the school year. He kinda hates how much he struggles with that. He really hopes to be recognized more positively as a monster.

Kursor is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does he react to that? Does he know it's Quartz?

He freaks the hell out, shifting into a werewolf in an attempt to escape wrongful imprisonment. He doesn't know it was Quartz specifically but his strong intuition keeps gnawing at him saying she did something. Unless if anyone else has antagonized him, he will keep thinking it was Quartz.

Kursor notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does he report this?

He tries to report it anonymously. He doesn't want anyone to think he said anything. He will always keep his guard up around Quartz from then on.

Where is Kursor usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

He can be found in the clubroom often. Between classes and lunch, he walks with his brother, stares at Trey, or very rarely trying to talk to Idia. Just as rarely, he attempts to ask Azul to eat with him one-on-one. Usually, he sits under a tree in the courtyard, eating and people watching.

How are his grades?

Kursor typically lucks his way into Bs. Cs at worst (he tries to study).

No Yandere Simulator ? (TWST AU)

AU Information:

This AU takes place similar to Yandere Sim but with Twisted Wonderland but Taro is Azul and Ayano is Quartz. Her goal is to eliminate… AZUL ASHENGROTTO. Yeah, her goal is actually to kill Azul and NOT the rivals. The rivals being your OCs/sonass and they have to protect Azul from Quartz and her dumb elimination plans.

More info on Quartz + Tweels info

Q&A for OCs!!! / PT 2

Flower Bullies info

Dormleader <- Student Council info + School info

This is an AU just for fun!! lol I just had a silly idea. Here’s a template if you wanna make your own oc into the AU (rival or not)

ALSO THEY DONT KNOW IT'S QUARTZ bc she's just a nobody girl

Bro you can tell I was hella lazy with Azul idk he’s too much

Rival List:

Romeo by @skrimpyskimpy

Shuu by @oya-oya-okay

Chiyo by @inotonline

Sable by @twsted-void

Jovie by @jovieinramshackle

Finn by @thehollowwriter

Elena by @angelwishess

Albert by @the-trinket-witch

Milo by @hy4c1nthh

Alice by @sinjaangels

Starrz by @astral-pr0jecti0n

Atlas by @silvery-stars-above

Mei by @ieatfriedeggs

Rubellite by @prefectrose

Yuuka by @hanizmiyu

NPC/Non-Rival List:

Elfie by @quartzelfgf

Higashikuramori Shin by @liyuviq

Jade Leech

Floyd Leech

Rizy by @rizdoodls

Yuuki by @theolivetree123

Joseph by @readsrandomstuff67

Yuubeni by @bunniehunn

Yuya by @cheerleaderman

Shuu and Silly by @sillybillymillyrilly

Superstar!! By @imafrealinrainbow478484

Viz (Vizzie) by @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

Yuhua by @distant-velleity

Nyx by @blackcat101

Gia by @ramshacklerumble

Yuuko by @silkkorchid

Moch by @thatsadguymochi

Faye by @faerieluvss

Yukana by @babyghoul138

Antoinette by @antoinettedoodles

AJ by @karamatsuboy-aj

Evelyuu by @h0neybane

Paloma and Hydris by @mhedusard

Levi by @the-trinket-witch

Alan by @alan-without-the-an

Vee and Viva by @evexe

Sophie by @gl00myb3arz

René by @tixdixl

Liánhuā by @lafashionlsta

Yuu Shi by @boopshoops

Xen by @xen-blank

Astrid by @cheerleaderman

Yumi by @marinahavik

Undine by @juchioris

Lilian by @sillyslipperybananapeel

Layla by @laylakongg

Niz by @hanizmiyu

The Yuris by @0ann3

Ryuuni by @rinis-reality

(Let me know if I made a mistake lol)

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

bar hopping •·.·''·.·•

summary: you take lando to a desi club.

‹𝟹 ln x desi!reader ⊹ ࣪ ˖

‹𝟹 fluff + humour ⊹ ࣪ ˖

masterlist ☾☼

lando had been to his fair share of clubs around the world, whether it was ibiza, or monaco, or even vegas. but honestly, nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared him for what he was about to experience in what you called, a "desi bar."

you had told him once during one of the many clubs you went with him after a race that while you loved partying as much as he did, the essence of a desi club was just completely different. so, he insisted that you drag him to a hidden gem of a bar in the heart of the city to prove your point. and, you did. it was a place you had sworn up and down would “change his life.” he had nodded along, expecting the usual—maybe a few neon lights, a decent dj, overpriced drinks.

instead, he was in a whirlwind of color, sound, and pure, unfiltered energy.

the bass thumped through the air, not with the usual edm beats he was used to, but with the unmistakable opening of kala chashma. the moment the first notes hit, the entire crowd erupted in cheers. glasses were lifted, voices shouted in perfect synchronization, and then—lando’s brain short-circuited.

because everyone, literally everyone, started doing the same dance moves.

it reminded him of the cowboy bars that daniel used to pull him to back when they were teammates.

“what—what is happening?!” he yelled over the music, eyes wide as he watched a sea of people drop their sunglasses onto their faces in unison and break into the hook step.

“this song is a bop,” you shouted back, grinning. “and this is just the beginning.”

safe to say, lando was slightly afraid.

lando spun around, watching in disbelief as strangers moved like they’d rehearsed this a thousand times. everyone was weirdly in sync, as if everyone had been to the same dance class to learn the same dance steps to the song. he swore the bartender was grooving while making drinks as well.

before he could even fully process it, you grabbed his wrist. “come on, norris. time to earn that reflex training of yours.”

he barely had time to protest before you pulled him into the middle of the crowd, seamlessly slotting the two of you into the choreography. you moved effortlessly—hips swaying, hands snapping into perfect formation, feet gliding across the floor with precision- as if you had been doing this since you were a child. meanwhile, lando? lando looked like a baby giraffe trying to separate its legs.

“why does everyone know this?!” he gasped, fumbling through the steps.

“it’s in our blood, love,” you teased, before you continued screaming the lyrics again.

to be honest, lando was sure that almost everyone at the bar was a bad singer if he heard them individually. he knew his girlfriend definitely was. but hearing them sing collectively, it sounded so harmonious, he had half a mind to record it and send it to martin for inspiration.

but, lando was not a quiter. so, lando huffed, determined now more than ever. he was a formula 1 driver. he had lightning-fast reactions, could handle a car at 300 km/h. surely, surely, he could handle some synchronized dancing.

…he could not.

he most definitely could not.

“left, lando! no—your other left!”

“i am going left—wait, no, never mind!”

his attempts were tragic but earnest. the crowd around him was equal parts entertained and encouraging. a group of aunties on the side cheered him on, while a group of guys dramatically mimed his worst mistakes, cackling. but he was committed now. he refused to be defeated by bollywood.

just as he managed to vaguely get a move right, the song switched.

“oh, you’re not ready for this one,” you grinned mischievously.

the opening beats of ghungroo started, and suddenly, the energy in the room tripled. the crowd seamlessly adapted to the new choreography, the transitions smooth as butter. lando really only had one question. how??? lando barely had time to breathe before he was swept into another whirlwind of movement.

and then—you taught him the hook step, gesturing for him to “break” the ankle bells like hrithik roshan had done in the official choreography.

lando blinked. “i have to—what?”

“just trust the process!” you laughed, and continued with the steps.

with the focus of a man attempting a daring overtake, he did it. he did the hook step. and for a moment—just a moment—it felt like the entire room cheered just for him.

by the end of the night, lando was sweaty, exhausted, and hooked. all he wanted was to go back inside and dance all night. he wanted to learn every choreography possible. he briefly wondered if jon would allow him to train by dancing instead of his usual weights and stuff.

as you both stumbled out of the bar, he turned to you, breathing hard. “that… was insane. i loved it.”

“told you it would change your life,” you laughed, handing him a bottle of water.

he took a sip, still dazed. then, suddenly, his face broke into a grin. because really, there was no stopping him now.

“so… same time next weekend?”

you laughed. “you’ll have to learn naatu naatu next time.”

lando groaned. he knew the song. he had watched the music video way too many times. it usually played on youtube on their tv when the two were cleaning. he knew just how many times he stopped and stared, transfixed at the speed that they danced. “oh god. i might need a pit stop halfway through that one.”

later, videos of lando attempting to dance to bollywood went viral. and all that people said was, "how to find a white boy in a brown bar."

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

this has been on my list for soooo long, and im sooo happy i finally got to write it. anyways, i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[curly-fry-3]

i have a request. I don't know if they are still open but here we go. Dean x reader, where reader is possessed and tries to kill the brothers, but they exorcise her. She has weak health so when the demon is out, she gets ill. Fluff after that. Love your writing!

𖦹Possessed𖦹

summary𖦹 You get possessed and Dean takes care of you

pairing𖦹 Dean Winchester x Reader

word count𖦹 1,190

notes𖦹 I hope you like this. this is my first time writing a fight scene so it might not be spectacular. also just fyi, learned this the hard way, writing someone who's possessed it HARD

also I didn't fully proofread it, I kinda skimmed it (sorry its like midnight and I have school tomorrow lol)

Holy shit. This is probably the worst you've ever felt. Being trapped in your mind with no control over your actions, demons suck. Of course you would be targeted, being close with the Winchesters always got you in trouble–damn Dean and his charming smile that lured you in. You and Dean had been together for almost a year, you two had met through Bobby when he needed help translating some ancient spell. Of course Dean hit on you like there was no tomorrow and of course you fell for him and you've been going strong ever since. You help Dean and Sam with researching and questioning people for information. Dean would die before he let you actually fight, especially because you already got sick so easily, he didn't want more strain on your body. That's how the demon had found you.

You were walking back to the motel after questioning the victim's husband. It was dark out and you had this creepy feeling, like someone was watching you. You had quicked your steps, hoping to get back to the motel–and Dean–before something could jump out at you. Unluckily for you, you were being watched by a demon, and you would never be able to outrun it. When the black smoke entered you and you were no longer in control, your body continued to head to the motel–to Dean and Sam. You tried to take control of your body, you have no idea what you would do to them but you know it wouldn't be good, but you weren't strong enough.

Soon you made it to the motel and walked through the door, strolling in like nothing was wrong. Sam was sitting at the small table near the door on his laptop and dean was laying in your shared bed reading up on some lore. When you enter Dean looks up and smiles at you in greeting “hey babe, any leads”

“Oh no nothing” the demon said, taking of your suit jacket and shoes and sitting on the bed next to dean

Dean looks at you confused “sweetheart, is something wrong”

“What, no, why” the demon responds, pretending to be just as confused

His face hardens as he gets up from the bed and stands against the nightstand, reaching for the demon blade in the top drawer behind his back. “You're not her”

Sam is listening in on the conversation and immediately goes into battle mode when he hears Dean's tone. He stands up as well and reaches for his gun on the table next to him, silently sizing you up.

When the demon realizes it's been found it drops the innocent act and you stand up facing the boys, getting ready to fight them. “Oh you're very observant, Dean, you know I thought I had about an hour till you figured me out…guess I'm not that great of an actress.” The demon says, with a sinister smile on your face. “Oh well, i'll still get to kill you two” You look over to sam. “Don't try and pull a fast one, I know you don't wanna hurt this little meatsuit.” You turn back to dean “especially you ... .you know, her first thought when I took over for her was that she didn't wanna hurt you…so sweet it makes me sick. You two are just gross.”

Dean look at you with a warning gaze “don't you dare hurt her, you son of a bitch”

The demon chuckles “oh, baby, you're gonna be the one doing all the damage” 

A look of realization flashes over Dean's face and he drops the demon blade in his hand–he would never hurt you. You pull out the knife from your belt and lunge at him. He dodges your attack, tripping you, and you end up on the floor, Your knife across the room, with him standing over you, Sam in his duffle bag getting holy water. From your position on the motel carpet you quickly kick upwards, hitting Dean in the balls. While you're getting up, Sam comes over and you punch the back of his knee, making him bend forward–losing his balance. Before you can get far, Dean has recovered from his hit and grabs you and pins you down. “Sam now!”

Sam splashes you with holy water and begins exorcizing you. If you thought being possessed sucked, being exorcized was ten times worse. By the time it was done you were so weak you couldn't home yourself up. Thankfully Dean was holding you. “Shit, baby I got you”

You look up at him weakly with tears in your eyes “I'm so sorry. I tried to take control, I really tried.”

Dean gently lays you down on the bed, giving Sam a look saying that he needs some alone time with you. He brings his attention back to you as Sam heads outside and you continue to apologize. “Sweetheart, it's not your fault” he starts taking care of you, changing you out of your FBI uniform and into your pajamas. “Don't, even for a second, think that it's your fault” He pauses after you're dressed and wipes the tears from your eyes as you're propped up on the pillows. “Are you comfortable baby? I know that was a lot for you.”

“I'm so tired, my body aches” You complain looking up at him with red rimmed eyes “I didn't wanna hurt you”

He looks at you with a reassuring smile “trust me, you didn't”

“But i kicked you in the balls” you say concerned

He grimaces at the memory,“And I handled it” Dean sits on the bd next to you and rubs your calf comfortingly, “do you need anything”

“I just want you to hold me” you answer, pulling him down into your embrace

He immediately reciprocates your hug, wrapping you in his warm comforting arms, You let out a deep breath of air in relief, your achy muscles already feeling better. When Dean gets situated next to you melt into his arms and rest your head on his chest. “Better?” He asks

“Way better” you confirm. “You always make everything better”

He softly smiles at your statement and kisses the top of your head. He rubs your back in soothing, comforting motions. “I try”

You look up at him guiltily, “I should be the one comforting you, I tried to kill you”

He shakes his head in disagreement, “that wasn't you. And besides, you're way too weak to do any comforting. That demon did more damage to you than me.”

“I still feel bad” you look away, sheepishly

Dean playfully rolls his eyes and his hand stops its movement on your back. “Dont…I love you ok…I just wanna make sure your ok”

You look back to him “I love you too”

Not needing to say anything else, you curl back up into him and his hand resumes it's comforting pattern. Sure, being close with the Winchesters made you a target to monsters across America, but Dean was always there to protect and comfort you.

You kiss Dean's chest then mutter into his shirt, “I really need to get that anti possession tattoo.”

sorry if there are any typos

love y'all

[slytherinshua]

◍　FALLING DREAMS　( 이석민 )

genre fluff , period comfort , established relationship , seokmin x fem!reader   cw cramps/nausea/headaches/other period stuff mentioned but no blood , not proofread   wc 804   request for @seokminfilm lyr my love this will cure ur cramps 100% (i hope)   note slytherinshua svt fic era WE ARE SO BACK (i'm not actually in an era only for my pookie lyr) ++ listen to falling dreams while reading   net @kstrucknet

You’d been cursed with painful cramps on your periods since you were a teenager. Coupled with nausea, headaches, and soreness, it was safe to say you loathed whenever that week of torture came around. Most people thought you were being dramatic about how much it hurt, even when sometimes it was too hard to even stand up because of the pain. 

The worst was whenever you had to bring up the topic to men. Calling in sick for work became more trouble than it was worth due to your prying boss who was stricter than reason. And God forbid you mentioned your time of the month as a reason for your absence. You’d been laughed at, threatened, and humiliated multiple times to the point that you avoided it at all costs. It was easier to suffer through the pain all day at the office than try to fight your way for a reasonable excused sick day.

But you were lucky that there was at least one reasonable man in your life. Your boyfriend Seokmin took your time of the month more seriously than you sometimes. He was always more than willing to get you anything you needed, and was extra affectionate and loving. Although he didn’t know how it felt to go through the painful cramps, he could imagine just how painful it must be. Seeing you grimace your way through every long day saddened him. He tried his utmost best to make it even a little easier for you.

Which was why now, after a long day at work and several breakdowns throughout the day due to the hormonal rollercoaster your body was riding, you were now lying in bed listening to the soft sound of Seokmin’s singing from the kitchen. He was making your favourite brownies as was tradition. 

It started years ago when you first started dating. You were a bit too shy to ask your boyfriend of only a week to help you with anything relating to the pain. Meanwhile, Seokmin was both confused and concerned on why you kept wincing every few minutes while trying to watch a movie. When he finally coaxed the answer out of you, he was unexpectedly sweet about it all. 

You laugh at the memory now. Of course Seokmin was the sweetest ever when he heard about the pain you were experiencing. It was perfectly in character for him. You soon learned that the attractive man who always made you laugh was also one with the kindest soul you had ever met. You knew from that day that you had chosen right. Seokmin was a dream. 

“Baby, I just put them in the oven, okay? Thirty minutes and they’ll be ready,” Seokmin called as he made his way back to your shared bedroom. A pretty smile graced his face as he caught sight of you wrapped up in the blankets. “How are you feeling now?” 

His soft question made your heart melt a little, and with a gentle hand reaching to brush back your hair, you felt overwhelmed all at once. What did you do to deserve a man as perfect as him?

“Still feels like someone’s stabbing my insides repeatedly, but you’re making it better,” you told him, raking your hand up to meet his, interlacing your fingers together. He frowned slightly at your response, hating to see you in such pain, even if it was a normal thing. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Seokmin’s voice was gentle, soothing to your ears. Whenever you were around him, all the pain you felt seemed to subside, even just a little. His touch was delicate as he pulled you up from the pillows for a hug, squeezing extra tightly when he heard the muffled whimper of pain escape your lips. He knew after years that this is all you needed. A warm hug, comforting words, and delicious fudgy brownies to distract from the pain.

Tender kisses were what came next, the first few pressed to your cheek before he travelled lower to your lips. You giggled with every exaggerated ‘mwah!’ that Seokmin added after every peck, attempting to lift your mood in any way. And it always worked wonders. 

It worked too well, in fact, judging by the whine of protest that left your lips as soon as he stopped kissing you. But he remedied it as quickly as he could, lips falling back onto yours, hands holding your waist gently, cautiously, as if you were in danger of breaking at any additional pressure. To Seokmin, you were the most precious part of his life. He made it quite known with his selflessness and caring towards you. And if you were to ever doubt it, all it took was one bite of brownie to be reminded again.

Seokmin was a dream. And he was all yours.

svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @cham3li,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,, @parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @starshuas,, @raevyng,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @nicholasluvbot

[theadhddimsenion]

You know something I find ironic about stella defenders and vivis critics? They love to talk a lot of shit about how bad vivi supposedly is at representing male victims of abuse all while defending and regurgitating arguments that are used to condemn and vilify male victims and defended his abuser!!!!

"Cheating is bad!! So stolas is bad!! And they just want to silence us into thinking that this is ok!!!!" No you brain dead peon! Cheating isn't always universally bad especially when it's been on someone who has done nothing but abuse them and actively talked shit about their performance as a way of disrespecting them!! And let's be very clear the only reason stella was upset is because it was an imp and stolas had finally gotten the Courage to stand up to her!!! And let's not forget that stella had been treating him like crap for years before this happened!

"He's a bad father!!" No he's not he's a struggling father. Neither he nor his daughter are bad people and neither of them deserved to be in the situation they were in. Should he have paid more attention to octiava yes. Is he a bad person and never cared about her because he didn't? Fuck no!! He messed up and he suffered the consequences and is trying to learn to better what more can you honestly ask if someone!?

"He's shouldn't have saved blitz because that showed octativa he was willing to die without caring about her!" Bull. Fucking. Shit!!!! How the fuck was he supposed to make a life or death descion and think about every possible situation this could result in when he had about 12 seconds to make sure the love of his life's head didn't go fucking choppy choppy!!!

"He's a coercive rapist reeeeee!!!" Look pal that agurment relies on a lot if's when it comes to bltizs ability to find a alternative means of getting to the human world so this argument is flimsy and relies on circumstances and speculation at best and is outright bullshit at worst. Even if this so called argument had any real validity then it should be clear to anyone with any brain power whatsoever that stolas never meant to coerce anyone!

"He is evil blueblood and deserves the guillotine" no stolas is as bout as much of a noble prick as a thumbtack and he had never once intentionally looked down on anyone and when he did it was never hateful it was simply out of ignorance unlike his wife who you constantly defend!

"Stella was made evil to justify his actions!" No you fools she was clearly always going to be a villain and contrary to what your pitiful Brains think females don't need to be sympathic or even competent and vivi isn't sexist for writing stella this way and for what it's worth I think stella serves her role quite well.

[skojukebox]

IDW Sonic 76: Tying Knots

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Lots of spoilers for Issue 76, don't read this if you haven't read that yet!

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The entire Mimic-Duo plotline was something I was content with for a long time because, for most of it, it seemed so easy and obvious what they were doing with it: you were taking a group of characters who were still attempting to ground themselves and learn to get along, and introducing someone who plays on distrust into the mix. Lanolin, who is having a rocky time with the perils of being a leader, is bamboozled. That is the obvious part of things that people pick up on in this story. 

Something that perplexingly falls to the wayside on surface level reading, particularly by younger readers for whatever reason, is Whisper’s side of this as a character with an arc revolving around relearning to tolerate and trust others. It’s part of what makes Mimic such a perfect villain for her; she is being confronted with a character who literally makes trusting anyone a dicey proposition. The Diamond Cutters as a narrative device for her is less about “Whisper relearns how to make friends” and more “Whisper learns how to trust again”. It’s kind of powerful, even a little daring for a silly comic about funny cartoon animals going on adventures. I think it’s what ultimately made her one of my favorite characters. Whisper got me back into Sonic because of this!

The Mimic infiltration seemed like a perfect plot point for both of these two goals. It’s basically like, the ultimate team building exercise. A deceitful bad guy plays a new leader desperate to prove herself and a tough lady with deep trust issues against each other. It worsens and becomes even more interesting with the Clean Sweep sweepstakes because Whisper actively begins to lie to Lanolin in order to lone wolf things. She even takes Tangle along for the ride! It actually got spicy there for a second. But even with that, this stuff is like… Super basic? Yes. It’s the kind of situation you would see in a Friendship is Magic episode, which would end with a gentle reminder to be good to each other and talk things out with your friends. That was what I was expecting.

 But as the Sweepstakes plotline went along, problems kept mounting. For several arcs now the comics have felt like it was laying out plot points with a fair degree of intricacy and foreshadowing. But in the back half of the arc, a lot of things started to mount which I would call at best snap decisions and at worst “tying knots”

“Tying knots” is a very understandable urge a storyteller gets while putting out a serialized tale with a lot of moving pieces. People become impatient, or lose focus, and your carefully laid plans start to look more daunting to pursue. There is an impetus to just patch things up as quickly as possible, especially when stuff is not being immediately received well. So rather than continuing onwards to an inevitably satisfying conclusion, you just tie off those plot threads into a messy little knot of an early ending and go “good enough.” There were several things that reeked of this at the tail end of the arc (looking at you “Clutch knows things about Surge”), but for the sake of brevity, the worst one was Duo being revealed as Mimic.

The reveal itself is bad. Like, it’s funny! That’s undeniable! But it’s still really bad. It was a plotline that IDW was running for literal months across multiple arcs, and they had it end with a throwaway gag of him accidentally having his phone on speaker. This was a clear case of hole-filling; they had run up against a wall where they either didn’t know where to take it anymore or no longer felt comfortable stretching it out, and they just pruned the plotline. They cared so little they made the reveal a preview page, which pissed me off pretty bad when I just got it randomly tweeted to me by the official account as a spoiler, but that’s beside the point.

That was dumb and definitely the most flagrant case of going “fuck it lets get this over with,” but I honestly think the character who was failed the most by the plotline was Lanolin, because this plot does not end with a message about characters realizing they need to communicate better, or that teamwork makes the dreamwork, or really… Any discernible message or moral?

It ends with Lanolin prostrating herself and announcing that she sucks ass for two issues, profusely apologizing, and none of the characters she is apologizing to even reacting to anything. She apologizes for being fooled by the character who also fooled everyone else for like a year. She apologizes for being lied to by Tangle and Whisper. In response to this, Tangle makes fun of her capability to do something, and Whisper ignores her and says she wants to shoot Mimic in the face because she… Learned nothing from this, and I guess was right all along. You can’t trust anyone except Tangle. She’s just right back to her static state of “I want revenge, I'm a badass.” Like… What was the point of anything she’s done over the past year of comics at all? 

I don’t really care about the Diamond Cutters being broken up. Okay, I do, it’s sad and I liked them! It might be temporary, who knows. It’s a comic book, stuff comes and stuff goes eternally. But like… Holy hell, what a failure on multiple levels for that subplot. It makes Lanolin look like a sadsack, it makes Whisper actively unlikable and regresses her character, makes the message of the whole thing such winning ideas as “it’s okay to lie to your friends” and “you better not ever fuck up”. and makes me feel like I just wasted months being invested in the original cast of this comic at all.  

It feels like a truncated and confused ending to an arc if I am being generous, but less charitably like a panic redirect, or even editorial interference. After aaaaall those months of carefully set up, deliberate pacing and foreshadowing, it just kind of gets wound off into nothing and we merrily jaunt off to something else. This is a very, very good example of why if you set out to play the long game for something, you should keep your patience intact, because I guarantee trying to put a slapdash taped on conclusion to it because it’s not quite as well-received as you might have initially hoped will just make a mess of things.

I’m not usually too critical of IDW. In fact, I liked some of the other stuff going on in this issue and will continue to follow the glacial pace of my current favorite comic! But… In summary: bad taped together conclusion with an even worse moral. The bad guy basically won, which is not only very un-sonic-y, it’s also treated with zero gravity. Very poor, slapdash, and left a bad taste in my mouth. Do better, guys!

[sufferu]

~ You Know!!! For your ficlet idea for Julius sitting on Subaru and forcing him to concede and cry and say he's not a knight. This could be a pretty interesting alternate route for you to use your OTHER idea of:

“Subaru begging for mercy before Julius was satisfied with the duel and therefore he plans to force him to work ask as a servant for the next three years.”

Like it would be so villainous and insane and the worst part would be that the Emilia and her camp agree with it!

Emilia BTZ I: Your a disgrace Subaru. Did you really think someone as pathetic as you could ever be MY knight! Ha! Get real! And on top of that you have the nerve to humiliate me in front of the entire kingdom! Enjoy being Julius's slave. Have a nice life.

Emilia BTZ II: I didn't mean any of that, but at the same time I don't want you to get hurt. Please for your sake stay with Julius and the Anastasia camp. They will protect you better then I ever could.

Julius BTZ I: What a low beast. How revolting. It seems like I'll have to show you your proper place in this world DOG! You can be my practice dummy and while your at it why don't you shine my shows like a good little servant...

Julius BTZ II: I know I was a little mean to Subaru, but now that he can't be a knight and is in my care, I'll make sure to watch over him with my life! This could actually be pretty fun! I'll spare with him, let him play with my spirits and show him how to properly use his gates. And maybe tease my 'little servant' from time to time. Heh.

Anastasia BTZ I: (Laughs in Ojou-sama) Guess Julius-kun found himself a little pet. How adorable. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I train you to be a good little mutt ohohohho ~

Anastasia BTZ II: Subaru has suffered more then any person should. This cannot stand. Since Julius and I managed to take him from Emilia, I'll make sure to TEACH him to behave himself like a functioning member of society. It won't be easy and I'll have to be hard on him every now and again But one way or another he'll learn not to run headfirst into danger or taunt a Sin Archbishop or pet dangerous rabbits. Natsuki Subaru will be SAFE!

Subaru: Proceeds to SUFFER and have a terrible time 100x more then he ever did in canon or main BTZ. lmao

Like we'd just be just speed running this thing. This man ain't lasting three years lol.

I like the way you think! :D

One small correction: in this version of events, Anastasia wouldn’t be able to rely on the “Subaru now owes Julius a debt” story because Subaru only surrendered after like a full half-hour of Julius loudly ordering him to just give up already, for fuck’s sake. INSTEAD, she’s got the much more convincing argument of “Lady Crusch is literally planning to go fight the White Whale in five days, and also my knight just managed to subdue Subaru while also diffusing all the lethal tension aimed his way, all in an — albeit humiliating — but fully nonviolent fashion. Let us take him in instead.” And then Subaru ends up as Julius’ servant because Julius knows Subaru a lot better than anyone else in the Anastasia Camp, and also making him someone’s subordinate is a very convenient way to keep him under control.

I think I’d also like to add another layer to Anastasia’s whole deal, speaking of. Namely:

BTZ I Anastasia: Oh, look, you broke that very expensive vase. I guess that means I’m adding more time to your sentence. You’re never going to make up for all the damage you’re causing all of us, you useless piece of junk.

BTZ II Anastasia: Subaru, you don’t have to worry about your security in our camp, we’ve already made up our minds about keeping you with us until the Witch Cult has been taken care of. The whole “payment” thing is genuinely just a convenient excuse so that nobody asks any questions. You accidentally breaking that vase — or anything else you manage to mess up — none of that is going to result in us throwing you out on the street. It’s alright, calm down.

Also, in addition to your notes on Emilia, Julius, and Anastasia, consider:

BTZ I Ricardo: Why did Julius drag this useless stray into our camp? I am not at all happy with this worthless newcomer. You better stay out of our way and just — hole up where nobody can see you, or I’ll beat you bloody.

BTZ II Ricardo: As a fellow father, I am going to do everything within my power to do right by Subaru’s dad and keep Subaru safely out of harm’s way. If I have to make him a little afraid of me in order to get him to listen to good sense, then so be it.

BTZ I Pearlbatons: We’re a bunch of children and we’re still more competent than Subaru is, isn’t that funny? Also, we enjoy torturing him when nobody is looking for basically no reason, and he can’t tell anyone because nobody would believe HIM over US~

BTZ II Pearlbatons: Subaru is here!! Lady Anastasia managed to convince the other camps to let him stay with us! We’ve got to be at our absolute best to make sure nobody takes him away. Also, it’s really fun to play pranks on him, he’s always so noisy—

BTZ I Royal Knights: We all remember that duel between Julius and Subaru as one of the most laughably pathetic things we’ve ever seen in our lives. It’s become a running joke that we keep referencing and now it’s spread as an idiom throughout half the kingdom. Subaru is never going to live that humiliation down.

BTZ II Royal Knights: That fucker lasted a full half-hour. Subaru went up in a duel against Julius that was so one-sided that he literally ended up being sat on at the very start of it and he lasted a full half-hour. I would have just thrown in the towel after five minutes. Now every time we’re talking about someone with an absurd amount of determination in the face of odds entirely stacked against them, we pretty much have to reference that whole event. He might not be a knight but I kind of HAVE to respect Subaru after that display. …And also worry slightly, because if he displayed that level of tenacity against a witch cultist instead of just turning tail and running he’d be turned into paste pretty quickly.

Also — and this is the really funny part — this version of BTZ would end up being WAAAY better for Subaru in the long term lmao. Becuase you’re absolutely right: he’s not making it through three full years without cracking, not THIS time. It’s just too much, too fast, with too few carrots to push him to keep up the act. And that means everyone else would figure out that he’s miserable a LOT sooner. Like — I’m gonna say this whole thing lasts two months.

(And the breaking point would look significantly different than canon!BTZ, but I can’t spoil that too much…)

[polyamorousmood]

I feel like I'm inclined toward, not fully open relationships per se, but closed small group poly if that makes sense. But the thing is I'm still a virign in terms of penetrative sex and I can't see how someone in my situation can be with multiple people at once because how would I even choose which one to let fuck me first. Also, I'm a bi woman and have internalized the idea that my first time with a man has to happen before my first time with a woman because if it happened the other way around I'd be betraying the Sapphic community by straying for men. And on top of that I can't do no strings attached sex (on some level I'd argue no such thing truly exists, that the act itself comes with strings by design) or one night stands. I've tried, and it's never ended well even though I want to be able to be fun enough to be worth being with in a world where refusing early sexual contact gets me written off as incompatible by the vast majority of people outside who align with my core political and social values. So that brings another problem I need, if not a relationship, at least a very strong friendship and basis of trust and comfort to sleep with someone, which is also antithetical to the way things work in the real world past high school. And I can't fathom the thought of being penetrated by a circumcised penis due to past attempts being really awful and failing and being blamed for that failure and me not being willing to risk that ever happening again. In theory I'd blow a guy who was circumcised but I'm too afraid of being forced to go further than that so I'd rather not even be in any kind of sexual situation with them. And like I want to believe that there's some circumcised guy out there who would be willing to prove me wrong but I can't see that happening so despite living in a state where like 85% of the male population is circumcised and the majority that aren't being notably younger I find myself trying to look for a man with whom I a share core values, shared interests and mutual romantic and sexual attraction and who is uncircumcised and not so big that I can't imagine it not hurting and who is okay with not having sexual intercourse right away and who will provide a comfortable and good experience for my first time (setting aside the inherent awkwardness of a first time) and who will stick with me allowing me to learn from practice together rather than abandoning me for not being perfect in the bedroom from the get go as is so often expected once your past a certain age (I'm at an age where it's assumed you've had sex before so nobody bothers asking and I'm never sure when to bring it up) so that I can share that with him and then I plan to eventually ask to open things up. Initially just to pursue my feelings toward other women but after some time I would consider asking if it'd be okay for me to add other men to our polycule as well but the trouble is I can't seem to find the right first man. Any advice?

Yeah, so uh. Basically?

You made up most of those rules. You don't have to follow them.

I am sympathetic to the nature of trauma, and of anxieties. It is because of my sympathy that I think it is a bad idea to default to capitulating to them.

Put more plainly, you complicate your life unnecessarily by letting your worst thoughts dictate your actions.

Any one of these considerations would be reasonable enough. We all do this on ocassion, and we are right to do so! Not everything is worth the mental struggle of untangling. Having said that. You clearly have so many untangled thought patterns and habits that it's interfering significantly with your life which means it's time to roll up your sleeves and sit down with at least one of these wads of Christmas lights🎄🧶, metaphorically speaking.

I don't care which one you start with, but it seems to me the easiest would be your point about *checks notes📝* dating a man first so you aren't betraying saphics? Did I get that right?

If you'll allow me to be blunt, you already characterized this thought as a stupid one. So why are you still planning on following it❓️❓️ Sweetheart. You know this. You know that's a thought we think and go "well the medallion says that's stupid so we're not gonna do that" [<-reference you don't need to get]. But here you are, planning your whole life around it? What the fuck are we doing here, lady? Leave that shit on the side of the road where it belongs! Your honorable sanitation worker will dispose of that trash if you just leave it outside and ignore it long enough, my good bitch (affectionate).

You could work on the other stuff too. Trauma is a mess, and I respect due caution⚠️ with the dating world. But it is... just sad to me you're willing to write off 70% of men for a feature they cannot change. That's probably a lot more to unpack, and I am not qualified to give that intensive mental health advise. But, man, I would understand if a fella were a little hurt. 🫤

Massive pivot incoming

But I think you were posting asking for advice on how to get into relationship(s) like what you specified. And like, if you're not going to put some work into the above, then I suppose my advice would be to try to 🦄Unicorn🦄? If you're not in the know, that means (roughly) that you become the "third" for an established couple👫. I'm given to understand bisexuality women are very popular in this niche. It has its own pitfalls, but you wouldn't have to worry about the order if you were dating them both, for one. It also might help some of your anxiety around men to have a woman that's vouching for him. And like. Those that are seeking a relationship (and not just a casual sex) would, I assume, be willing to wait a bit without a whole lot of hullabaloo since they can still fuck each other in the meanwhile. 🤷‍♀️ It's good practice during these to discuss what sex would look like ahead of time anyway, so that would be a natural time to bring up... all of what you wrote. [EDIT: I don't think the matter of who to fuck first would be an issue. Sleep with the man first since you said that's what you want. They're not going to take offense, and if they are, they will be very upfront about it]

Aside from that, I think your only option would be to befriend a lot of men🧍‍♂️👨‍🦱👨🧍‍♂️👨‍🦳👨‍🍼, ask weirdly specific questions about their genitals🤔 until you find one that seems suitable, and start angling for a friends-to-lovers situation.

Or, oh here's a novel one, get you a guy who's into bandage🪢➰️ and tease/denial! Then you'll control everything sexually and he won't be bothered! Win-win! Have you tried FetLife? (Light-hearted... but only half joking)

Also, everyone's mileage will vary, but I have found men wanting a relationship with you are willing to sort through sexual stuff with you. I'd take the time to get to know someone first, make sure you're both a little invested. The ones who care about sexual stuff so much they'd "abandon" you... probably wasn't serious about the relationship (not to say a guy's never gotten serious after getting invested at least partially through sex).

whatever you decide to do, good luck out there, friend.🍀🍀

[caesariawritesstuff]

After reading your amazing work Learning to Share, this idea got stuck in my head. Edward and Jonathan get jealous when another man shows interest in the detective. I would die if you wrote something like that🥺🥺🥺

Payne & Suffering

Summary: When a new man comes on the scene at the GCPD, Edward and Jonathan find themselves with fierce competition.

Word Count: 3.8k

Content Warning: Angst, jealousy, possessive behavior. Spoilers for the end of Arc I of Cat & Mouse.

A/N: Once again, my dear @vas17sblog, I must apologize for this request taking so long. I'm literally the worst. BUT a few days ago I asked if it would be spoilers to include a new character, but surprise! Meet David Payne. I hope you all love him as much as I do.

Edward’s fingers raced across the keys. A greenish glow from the computer cast along his face, reflecting in the frames of his glasses. His lips pressed into a thin line, frustration pounding at his temples. There was never a dull moment in the GCPD, was there? He’d been hunched over his desk for three hours now, working tirelessly on coding and processing systems. He needed to get his work done – the quicker, the better. He was itching to get out of here and end his workday. He just wanted to be back at your apartment with you, enjoying his evening.

“Nigma!” a voice said. Loud, gruff, calling him from the other room.

Edward perked up. Cash’s voice boomed throughout the Homicide Division’s floor. Sighing, irritation prickled across his skin as he stood from his seat, heading out of his office. Why was Cash calling him? He hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? No, of course not. He’d been on his best behavior for weeks now. He made his way through the bullpen, his gaze straying for just a moment towards your desk – which was empty, alongside Mack’s. The two of you were currently off investigating another case. It would probably be a few hours before you returned. Turning his attention back to Cash, he entered Cash’s office, but surprise rippled through him when he saw another man sitting at the desk, across from the Commissioner.

The man immediately looked up and turned to him, quickly standing. He had broad shoulders and quite the handsome face: bright blue eyes the color of the sky, a chiseled jaw, blonde hair neat and cut short. He looked like a model out of a men’s cologne ad, and he even smelled of patchouli, oud, and amber and iris.

“Nigma,” Cash said. “I want you to meet Sergeant David Payne. Payne, this is Edward Nigma.” His voice was filled with a strange, comfortable lightness.

“Ah, Mr. Nigma,” David said, extending his hand. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you. You’re quite the name around here.”

Edward didn’t shake his hand. Instead, his eyes narrowed into slits as he frowned, studying the far too-handsome man in front of him. He wore a pair of blue slacks and a white button down with a matching blue-and-gold tie. An expensive, leather watch was around his left wrist, the face of the watch a crystal clear, reflective surface.

“Nigma,” Cash said, clearing his throat. “I know we’ve had Rollins filling in as your handler for a few weeks while we get someone else to fill the position, and that’s where Sergeant Payne comes in. He’ll be taking over the role of your handler.”

Edward’s frown deepened. Sergeant Payne? More like a pain in his ass. He bristled, but forced his best smile onto his face, determined to make the best impression he could.

“Well,” Edward said. “I’m sure you’re more than qualified for the job.” Still, he couldn’t help but wonder why a man like Payne would want this job at all.

“I’m looking forward to work together,” David said.

“Likewise,” Edward muttered, his smile growing tight-lipped and forced. He’d always known Mack wouldn’t remain his handler forever, but still, he wasn’t expecting this.

Cash looked between them, his nostrils flaring, as if he could sense the tension between them. “Payne will reach out to you later. I’m currently getting him debriefed on our precinct.”

“Yes,” David said. “I’ll be seeing you later, eh, Ed?”

Edward lips turned downward. He didn’t like being called “Ed”, especially by a man he did not know. Oh, not one bit. His brow twitched as irritation prickled across his skin.

“Edward,” he said a second later.

“Hm?” David asked.

“It’s Edward,” he said again, a little more forcibly this time.

“Right. Sorry,” David said. “Well, we’ll touch base later.”

Edward nodded, and quickly left the room, feeling less than dismissed. Agitation grew inn his belly, like a wildfire coursing through his veins. His gaze strayed back to your empty desk; he wished you were back, so he could complain all about Payne. Alas, he’d have to wait, even though his patience was growing thin. He returned to his office and collapsed into the nearby chair, defeat settling over his bones. Slipping his phone from his pocket, he sent you a quick text: What can’t you have for breakfast or dinner?

Your response came five minutes later: I’m having lunch with Jonathan.

Edward frowned. Dammit, Crane was always getting in the way. It had been a few weeks since the little incident back at the museum when he agreed to share you. A decision he was still questioning if it was the right one, but still, he was growing antsy.

Well, I’ll just have to join you, he sent back.

Don’t get mad if Jon is jealous, you replied.

Edward smirked. He could handle Crane. Setting his phone aside, he got back to work. Work, which really meant he was going to snoop into David Payne’s life. His fingers raced across the keys as he began prying into everything he could learn about Payne: the man was thirty-six, born and raised in Gotham. Both parents passed away years ago. Had a younger sister. Apparently, the man had quite the colorful career: he’d received several Community Engagement awards, two Lifesaving Medals, and a Silver Star for Bravery. He had a reputation for risking his life and protecting the innocent, no matter the cause. Several years ago, he moved to Metropolis, running his own department in the Gang Intelligence Unit. He was involved in several undercover operations and single-handedly took down three gangs in the city. Well, he certainly had a lot going for him, but Edward wondered why he would leave Metropolis and move back to Gotham. Why would he give up such a decorative career to come back here?

That was the question Edward found himself asking as he returned to work. It was just around one o’clock when he finally emerged from his office. His gaze immediately landed on your empty desk, but Mack was sitting at his, hunched over a series of folders piled up in front of him. He frowned, concern flashing through him.

“She’s in the break room,” Mack said, as if sensing what he was going to ask.

“Thanks.” Edward turned on his heels and headed that way, excited knots twisting in his stomach. It had been hours since he’d seen you, and he was growing desperate to look into your eyes, to hear your voice, but as he approached the break room, familiar, soft laughter filled his ears. Laughter he recognized as your own, that made his insides do a thousand flips. Crane, he thought. He must be in there now. But as Edward entered the room – he realized it wasn’t Crane at all. It was David Payne.

David was standing beside the table you sat at, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall in a sort of suave, cool guy pose that made Edward frown. You were leaning forward slightly, cleavage peaking out of your blouse, giving David quite the view. A light flush was across your cheeks, your eyes bright and shining in a way Edward hadn’t seen in weeks. It had been quite some time since Edward had seen you look so…alive. So carefree. So much brighter and filled with a lightness that he hadn’t seen from you in so long. Edward stepped into the room and cleared his throat. David lifted his gaze to him, and you turned your attention, your eyes focusing on him.

“Oh, hey,” you said, pursing your lips as if to contain a smile.

“I thought we were having lunch together?” Edward asked.

“We are,” you said, shifting in your seat. “But have you met David? David, this is my boyfriend, Edward Nigma.”

“We’ve met,” Edward mumbled.

“I’ve actually taken the position as Nigma’s handler,” David said.

“Oh – wait, really? You didn’t mention that,” you said, looking taken aback as you glanced between them, your eyes growing wide with concern.

David shrugged, a smile curving at the edge of his lips. He was too handsome, too devilish for Edward’s liking, and he couldn’t help but notice how the flush darkened on your cheeks.

“We were getting so caught up. I didn’t want to ruin the moment,” David said.

“The…moment?” Edward asked. A thousand questions spun through his mind. What moment had he walked in on? Why were you looking so captivated by David’s mere presence?

“David was one of my instructors at the police academy,” you explained.

“Oh.” Oh. Edward frowned harder, his hands curling into fists. Now it made sense: why the two of you seemed so familiar, so…close. In a way that Edward did not like. It certainly seemed more than that. Perhaps you’d once had a crush on him. He certainly had a swoon-worthy face, capable of making any girl melt.

You shifted uncomfortably as an awkward silence filled the room. “David just moved back to Gotham from Metropolis,” you said..

“So I’ve heard,” Edward said.

“I take it you looked into me already?” David asked, smirking.

“Call it natural curiosity to learn just who’s going to be taking over my handler duties,” Edward replied, matching his smirk, puffing out his chest a little more.

“I don’t blame you,” David said. “I’d be curious, too. But I have nothing to hide, Nigma. There aren’t any skeletons in my closet.”

Edward sincerely doubted that, but his smirk only grew. “Then we’ll get along, won’t we, Payne?” Pain in my ass, he thought.

“Am I interrupting something?” another voice suddenly asked. Cool, cold, calculated – the voice of Jonathan crane. Edward turned to find him standing there, his eyes narrowing. He wore a pair of brown slacks and a white button down with a brown vest, a bolo tie hanging around his neck that looked strangely like a noose.

“Nothing at all,” David said. “Dr. Crane, I presume? I’m David Payne. I’ll be taking over as Nigma’s handler.”

“A job I’m sure you’ll regret soon enough,” Jonathan said, looking around at the scene. The tension in the room was thick, suffocating; Edward could feel it prickling through the air like dry lightning.

David laughed at that, his shoulders shaking with the movement. “I think Nigma and I are going to get along just fine. I have my fair share of experienced with egomaniacs.”

Edward quirked a brow. “None like me, I’m sure.” His smirk widened.

David’s eyes narrowed, studying the two of them. He smirked in return, before pushing off the wall. His gaze dropped to you, his eyes filling with lightness.

You turned your attention back to Edward and Jonathan. “David was actually my instructor at the police academy. That’s how we know each other.”

Edward bristled, jealousy coiling in his stomach like a writhing snake. Beside him, he felt Crane stiffen, as if he, too, was catching the same jealousy. Suspicion crept into his bones, making the hairs on the back of Edward’s neck stand on end.

“Well,” David said. “I’ll leave you to your lunch. See you around, princess.” As he said it, he gave your shoulder a soft squeeze.

Edward immediately saw red. You flushed, a soft smile curving at the edge of your lips, as David nodded to him and Crane and headed out of the room. Another man touching you? You? And calling you princess? He didn’t like this – not one bit. How close you were to David, the flush to your cheeks, the look in your eyes…oh, he did not like this. And now, he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes followed David as he left the room, before flicking back to them.

“Princess?” Edward muttered, quickly taking the seat across from you.

You blinked, straightening your shoulders. “Oh, it’s nothing. David just used to call me that back in the academy.”

“Then why are you blushing, pet?” Crane asked, his voice holding a smooth, controlled tone. He took the seat beside Edward, sitting straight up, hands resting on his knees.

“What? No, I’m not,” you stuttered, brushing a lock of hair behind your hair in that nervous way you always did. You looked between them with wide, uncertain eyes.

“You’re signs of attraction are clearly evident,” Crane continued. His voice was level, but Edward could detect a hint of jealousy within his tone.

It was your turn to bristle, your gaze dropping to the table. You pursed your lips into a thin line, avoiding both of their gazes. “David and I have…history. Okay? That’s it?”

“What kind of history?” Edward asked. He needed his curiosity sated.

The blush darkened on your cheeks. “Um…the inappropriate kind where I kind of slept with my teacher?” you said, though your voice was soft and meek, embarrassed.

Edward went very quiet and still for a long moment as he tried to process just what you said. The same man you had a history with was now his own handler, now going to be a thorn in his side, a pain in his ass here at the GCPD. Well, this was not a development he expected today.

“Oh,” Edward said, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Crane leaned back in his seat, lifting his chin slightly. “That’s more than inappropriate, pet. Were you planning on keeping this information from us?”

“Well, I was never expecting to see David again, so yes,” you replied. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. We just slept together. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

“And yet, you allow him to call you pet names and linger far too close,” Crane continued.

You bristled again, shifting in your seat. Edward watched as Crane’s eyes narrowed into slits, how he kept a close eye on your every move, as if your body language would give away how you were feeling. But you only pulled your eyes from him and looked down at your nails.

“You’re both overreacting,” you muttered.

“Oh, I assure you, detective, this is far from overreacting,” Edward grumbled. Jealousy continued to twist in his stomach. He did not like knowing another man slept with you. Of course, he wasn’t an idiot – he knew you weren’t a virgin. But still, the very idea of you giving your body to another man or woman burned an angry fire in his belly.

He saw Payne for exactly what he was: competition. Another man practically staking his claim over you? No, no way was he going to allow that to happen. Sharing you with Crane was bad enough as is.

You shot him a look, before your hand reached out to touch his own, your fingers soft and rough against his knuckles. “Neither of you need to worry,” you said. “I promise.”

Edward exchanged a look with Crane. But the man’s posture was stiff, his eyes uncertain; he was certainly doing a better job of hiding his own jealousy. Keeping it under a tight grip of cold control, not daring to show it. Edward leaned back in his seat, frowning.

“Both of you are insufferable,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “You need to behave.”

“Demanding things now, pet?” Crane asked.

“Yes, I am. Now, can we get lunch? I’m starving,” you said.

Edward nodded, but uncertainty continued to brew in his stomach. The day passed without seeing much of David, and soon, the days began to bleed into nights. Edward and Jonathan both kept their eyes on you, but as Edward soon discovered, David really was turning into a pain in his ass. David was not only a stickler for the rules, but he also had a strict set of rules for Edward to follow, too, which including needing to sign in and out of every shift, and have David confirm he’d even been here in the precinct at all. His ankle monitor needed to be checked every night before he left, to ensure it hadn’t been tampered with, and David instructed Edward to keep a detailed record of all the work he did every day. So, yes, Edward was truly experiencing his own pain and suffering with David at the helm as his handler. You had never been so strict, but of course, considering the nature of your relationship with him, you would never be able to be his handler again. Edward would gladly take Mack back any day, too. But, Edward supposed he couldn’t complain; you were his girlfriend, after all. Even if the last few weeks had been hell for the both of you.

As the days passed, however, Edward began to notice things that bothered him about David and the way he hung around you. He often stood too close, and Edward caught you and him laughing about something from your police academy days more than once. It brewed a dark jealousy within Edward’s stomach, especially now, as his gaze remained fixed on the both of you out in the bullpen, talking. You were sitting at your desk as he stood beside you, his arms crossed over his chest. Your cheeks had that familia flush to them, your eyes bright and shining. Edward couldn’t take his eyes off the sight, too glued to what he was seeing to stop himself. He’d been on his way back from the bathroom when he saw the scene, and now, he stood nearby, out of sight, his feet planted on the floor.

“So,” David was saying. “How are things going? You know I’m more than happy to help you with your cases.”

“That’s sweet of you to offer,” you said. “But I’ve got it covered.”

He nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly, lips curving upwards. “Look at you. All grown up detective. Still thinking of running your own department one day?”

That seemed to make you pause, your eyes cast downward, the flush disappearing from your cheeks. “I don’t really know anymore,” you said.

Edward frowned. You’d never mentioned wanting to run your own department before, but his heart skipped a furious beat. He didn’t like when you didn’t share things with him. It irritated him more than he wanted it do. The very idea of you shutting him out aggravated him.

“Well,” David said. “I know you’ve got it in you. You always strived for bigger things. Better things.”

There was something in David’s voice that Edward didn’t like, as if he was thinking that he was so much better for you. Edward didn’t like this, not one bit. No one was better for you than him. He was the only one worthy of your attention and devotion…wasn’t he? Besides, what did the hulking brute have going for him, anyways? Besides being ridiculously good looking and having been awarded numerous medals, but still. Well, let’s see how he handled Gotham. The bumbling, hulking idiot.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat. “Thanks for the offer, David. I’ll let you know if I need any help.”

“Anytime, princess,” he replied, pushing off the wall, but he paused. His gaze fell on you, lingering much too long. “Do you want to get coffee after work?”

You blinked, taken aback, and a red haze filled Edward’s vision as he waited with bated breath. Anger rushed through his veins like hot wildfire. Please say no, please say no, he begged.

“We can catch up,” David said, almost a quiet plea.

You wee quiet for a moment, but you finally said, “Sure. I’d like that.”

The red haze in Edward’s eyes darkened as jealousy twisted in his stomach like a hot knife. He couldn’t believe this, that you would say yes to that bumbling idiot. It was egregious. Outrageous! How could you even think of getting coffee with another man? Scowling, Edward turned on his heels and stormed into the elevator, taking it all the way down to the bottom level for forensics. As soon as it opened, he walked with large strides, heart hammering against his ribcage, as he strolled into Crane’s office, only to find the man surrounded by beakers and chemicals alike, his gaze steely with hardened focus.

“She’s getting coffee with him,” Edward immediately balked out. “With him! Can you believe that?” He didn’t even bother to keep his voice down, didn’t care who heard.

Crane lifted his eyes to him, frowning. “With Payne?”

Edward nodded. He sucked in a breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to put a tamper down on his anger, bubbling and boiling over. “This is outrageous,” he muttered.

Crane was quiet for a moment, before setting aside the notepad in his hands. He pushed up his glasses farther onto the bridge of his nose. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I don’t know,” Edward mumbled. It wasn’t like he could do anything. “Payne said he didn’t have any skeletons in his closet, but I’m sure he does. No one is that innocent. I’m sure I can find something to get him fired.”

“Careful, Edward,” Crane said, peering at him. “No need to get yourself into trouble.”

Edward scoffed out a laugh. “Easy for you to say, Crane. Aren’t you jealous of him?”

Crane didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His silence was enough.

Edward frowned, turning away, grinding his teeth together until they ached. His heart pained in his chest like it was being squeezed by a fist. It hurt, knowing you were going to have coffee with another man who wasn’t him. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and turned back, frowning harder, studying Crane, who gazed at him with a cold curiosity.

“Your jealousy is written all over your face,” Crane said.

Edward bristled, feeling heat creeping up his throat. “I hate him,” he whispered. He didn’t even know Payne, didn’t care to. Edward just knew he hated him already.

“You’re afraid she’s going to leave you for him?” Crane asked.

“Of course I am!” Edward muttered, louder than he intended. “Here he comes in, with his stupid smug smile and dumb face, acting like he can control me and take her from me? Well, not a chance. I won’t let it happen. I refuse to let it happen.”

Edward wouldn’t lose you. He refused to.

He refused to let Payne take you from him, and he would do anything he needed to keep that from happening. Crane smirked, his scarred lips turning upwards.

“Then we at least seem to be in agreement,” Crane said, glancing back down at the vials and chemicals laid out before him.

Edward nodded, his eyes narrowing. So it seemed Crane wasn’t willing to share you with Payne or anyone else as well. Edward lifted his chin slightly, studying the man before him, as his insides churned with a sick satisfaction. Oh no. Edward would not let you go at all, and if Crane was willing to help keep you at his side, at both of their sides…Edward could live with that.

For now.

He could deal with all of the pain and suffering Payne thrust upon him as long as he didn’t lose you. Edward wouldn’t lose you – he never would.

Not for as long as he lived.

[pedricos]

fluffy alphabet with hector fort please

Héctor Fort – A to Z, Fluff alphabet .ᐟ

a.n: tried something different on today's coverr hihi!!

warnings: roof wrecking fluff!!

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

he admirers your intelligence! he's so found of your random fun facts on such different subjects. he loves to learn things from you!!

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

he ABSOLUTELY loves your face!! he keeps pinching your cheeks while he's resting his arm around you, sometimes he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

he enjoys being the little spoon now and then, but prefers you being it, since he know you get cold more easily, so he keeps you warm!!

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

definitely a fan of simple dates, just to remind the beginning of the relationship!! but on especial dates, he likes to go fancy.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

héctor at first would keep some secrets about how he felt about certain things, mostly about being insecure, but now, he definitely he's learning on how vocalize his feelings.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

maybe he's more ready than you, but if you don't want kids, he won't insist on the subject anymore!! but if you do, he can give you ten names he saved for boy, and at least six for girls.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

he's always so shy to give you gifts. pandora necklaces, rings even little handwriting letters, he just leaves them for you to find.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

can only go out holding hands!! but also enjoys putting his hands on the back pockets of your jeans and walking around when your hands are busy.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

he doesn't let you do anything!! twisted your wrist? doesn't even let you up the stairs alone. your stomach hurts? he's walking all the day down the street to buy you medicine.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

loveees to tease and annoy you!! when he's with yamal, they just make fun of everything you say. god forgive you stutter or pronounce something wrong.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

he's a very passionate kisser. when things get more intimate, he's a fast and yearning kisser, he's showing dominance. if the moment is sweet, he's enjoying slowly a romantic kiss.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

quality time and gift giving!! he likes to spend time with you just doing anything, at all, but also loves to give you nice things. the purse with the hello kitty plushie you saw on pre-sale? he's buying one of each color.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

the day he proposed to you. the sunset in the perfect yellow and pink sky, with the beach only for the two of you. the sound of the waves were so relaxing and you looked so good under the golden hour. he dreams every night with this day.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

his worst nightmare is breaking your trust. he doesn't let gap open for you to distrust him!! girls on his dms sending nasty things? he's deleting. weird comments on his ig? he's blocking.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

he can, and he will, just randomly pick you up out of nowhere and do things around the house with you on his shoulders.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

you're his 'princesa'. nothing more or nothing less!! sometimes, he'll tell people you're his fiancee.

“mi prometida and yo..”

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

he enjoys time with you by you just being there!! the movie you went to see sucked? at least you had a good laugh. the rain ruined the picnic? he made both of you catch a cold by dancing in the rain.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

he's not the romantic music' type of guy, but sometimes he'll dedicate some loves songs in english.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

at first he would communicate much about his feelings, but now, he's learning how to vocalize them more and even let's himself shed some tears about his emotions.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

you knew eachother from a friend in common. you never gave too much importance of him at first, but he was the one to make the first move to ask you out!!

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

he tries to hide as much as possible!! but, he know you know him, and it's impossible to keep with the nonchalant attitude all day, so eventually, he just goes back to normal!! you just need to give him some space.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

you're with him everywhere he goes, even if you're not there!! initial tattooed on his ring finger, chain with your initial, lockscreen is a photo of you, polaroid in the phone case. you're his watermark.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you?)

he's ready to throw punches. not like he needs to beat someone up for them to be scared, cause you already got your scary dog privilege.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

he always confused at first, like one day you just woke up in the wrong side of bed and decided to be mad at him all day, but during the day, he puts you on his arms and asks you to tell him your worries.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

the prettiest night time you've ever seen. full moon shining it's brightest, the wind blowing just right in the balcony of the restaurant he took you. you looked the prettiest that night, even if you refused his propose, he wouldn't mid it. but you didn't, so it turned into his perfect day.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

when you caresses his tattoo. your nail making him shiver while it goes all the way on his arm, tracing the ink on his skin.

what do you guys think im going to uni for?? 🤭 trynna see what people think of meee

taking requests!!! bye bye, hope you liked it 💋

[dross-the-fish]

I have to know. What do you mean by "Jealous of Christine" I thought it was just Meg? Were there more?

I've touched a little on how ALW treats Carlotta, basically depicting her as a squawking over hyped-prima donna, even worse in the 2004 movie because it's actually shown that no one around her thinks she's a good singer, everyone hates her and they're just trying to appease her ego. There was no need to take that extra step of making her untalented, it actually, in my opinion, weakens Christine's triumph if Carlotta is that incompetent. And then he kind of repeats that with Meg Giry but goes EVEN HARDER into making her un-likeable and implying that she is not as talented as the untouchable Christine Daae. Meg is completely pathetic, head over-heels in love with someone who doesn't know she exists. It's implied she sold herself to help him fund his weird Coney island amusement park and meanwhile...she's depressed and abused by everyone around her and in the end she looses her mind and kills Christine. You'd think that would make the character at least a little sympathetic right?

Nope, ALW does not want you to sympathize with Meg, he turns her into an obsessive, jealous villain and every time she performs on stage her songs are the cringiest, most intentionally obnoxious, parodies of vaudeville performances. Because, see...she's not a REAL opera singer like Christine. It's staggering how little respect or sympathy ALW has for this character. She is pretty much just there to be a punching bag who has some kind of psychotic break at the end because Erik doesn't love her because she can never be Christine. That's it, the show acknowledges Meg's suffering but immediately undermines it by warping it into an unhinged jealousy for Christine. It's disgusting. Andy who hurt you? Is this about your ex wife? Get help. And don't get me wrong, LND resents Christine to. It's such an obvious "She should have chosen Erik" fan-fic, even so Erik is absolutely reprehensible in this. Like, holy shit he is the worst he's ever been and at one point he even threatens to kill Christine's child. Um...bro? Didn't you let her go? Didn't you give her your blessing? Why are you still acting like this????? HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING? What happened to your redemption arc???? HELLOOO??? And then there's Raoul who....isn't even Raoul. Idk what this character is but that's not our boy. This guy, Douchenozzel Drunkerson, who wandered in and replaced Raoul is an abusive drunk with a gambling problem. He hates his wife and his kid because...he is drunk. Idk if he suspects the kid isn't his, it's not really stated anywhere that he does but he's consistently mean to both Gustave (I hate this little twerp too tbh) and Christine (Who has no personality out side of "pretty voice." and I'm getting kind of tired of her too tbh.) Why is all of this? For what? To punish Christine for not choosing Erik? Idk, I have a very strong suspicion that ALW actually hates women because he cannot seem to write them 90% of the time without making them suffer or having them be nothing more than props or at worst, targets, for the male lead.

[savebylou]

Recap Simon Cowell on The Ray Foley podcast talking about 1D, his show and Harry calling him.

Simon did another interview, I wanted to share another recap/transcript in case anyone was interested.

TLDR: He said that he and 1D had the best time working together and he really missed it, he made a deal with the company that made Formula 1: Drive to Survive (Box to Box Films) and is going to a streamer plataform. He is doing promo so more people audition because he think is the best way to get in to the music business (even though he said he is not going to offer a record deal and he will own the name), he wants to invite Louis Walsh to the auditions, last but not least according to him Harry call him just to say hello.

Below is the more detail recap with a few quotes.

Simon was on The Ray Foley podcast, it was a zoom interview of almost 13 min [20.06.24].

-According to Simon because there hasn' t been a successful UK band or Irish band since 1D, so he thought about a year ago to do his show to create a new boyband. He thinks is the only way to do it.

-What he is looking for? The best example is One Direction. He thinks is the best boyband of all time.  "There is something about each of them, they were all individually talented, collectively they were just brilliant, it was fun, talented and we had the best, best time working together and I really, really missed it and that is why I decided you know what? I'm gonna risk it and I'm just gonna do it."

-He then talk about his memories of the band. That when One Direction didn't win he was so unhappy and that the next day they come to the label and he said they are gonna sign them. After he says "I think if we could find a group of people like that again, with those kind of records, I really, really think there is a massive opportunity here, I can just feel it".

About his show he comment:

- "I'm working with a company who made drive to survive"[Note: I check the production company was Box to Box Films, the program is Formula 1: Drive to survive, that is a documentary series of F1 that aires on Netflix]. He went to see them and he said he was gonna do this [boyband] "with or without cameras, do you think it would make a good documentary? And they went are you prepared to show everything?" He said yes, so they make a deal. "Is going to be a documentary for one of the big streamers."

- He is doing promo so more people audition because if it works it's worth it, is fun and "it's the best way on getting in to the music business, because right now they just aren't enough new people being sign for whatever reason, and that's depressing." [Important to remember that the band that is going to be created will not have a record deal, they will have to find it on their own and Simon is gonna own the name, see recap of that here].

-He said that the person that records a video and sharing on social media they are competing with so many people, so the odds are not in their favor, record labels are not watching their videos, they have a departament checking with algorithms, he believes that if you wanna find people he needs to met them and they need to met him. His advice for artists is always to start in a band because they will find their lane and they got a better shot. He used to do this 30 years ago, go month after month in auditions.

About Louis Walsh (X Factor judge)

The interviewer mentions that Louis has a boyband and Simon comment he will call him and drag him to be in the auditions and that they will always be friends. [Note that Louis said that he hadn't talk with Simon in years and Sharon Osbourne comment how Simon got rid of their contract they had for the new season of The X Factor for 2018, this when they add it Louis Tomlinson, Robbie Williams and Ayda Field ].

-He talk about what happened with Westlife that Louis created and Simon rejected them, they change members and he sign them.

Harry calling Simon.

"It was very funny because Harry Styles call me the other day just to say hello, and that night I said [to his son] I was talking to Harry Styles the other day. Son: No you didn't. Simon: Yes I did, he call me. Son: Why he will call you? Simon: To say hello, people do that."

Let me know if you want me to record and upload audios of any of this parts. I can share them.

[uncanny-tranny]

Hey, if you have speech impediments, you are so amazing.

If you stutter or have a lisp or misspeak easily or you have a flat affect or a limited verbal vocabulary or if your voice is AAC or if you just have a difference in your vocality, you are so incredibly important and amazing.

Just know that your voice is yours. Nobody will ever be able to truly take it away. Your voice is part of you, and you deserve to make it as true to you as you deem fit. I hope you have the space to grow with your voice and whatever about it makes it unique.