#there might be other options that come to me

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Don't mind me, just revisiting the plot (again) and dying over this line (again). (These screenshots are going to be abysmal, but you'll get the point).

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

Yeah he's talking about Mythal (earned or not) and Felassan and Lavellan and Varric...but the way it applies to HIM, too, is what absolutely guts me.

Long post ahead...

Solas realizing that Lavellan doesn't care about how others see him or want to use him under the inquisiton, that HIS motivations as he has shared them are enough for her and worth defending against those who would tell him he's something he isn't. Solas, for the first time, being confronted with the realization that one these new elves he does not see himself in will still go to bat for him.

"You came here to help, Solas, I won't let them use that against you."

(Is he duplicitous? Yes. But intent on working against Corypheus? Undoubtedly).

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

“...thank you.”

Solas grappling with the fact that it wasn't just a one off, that this Dalish woman being faced with "hypotheticals" he's desperately been trying to get her people to entertain is jumping in head first, pushing back and disagreeing with him but never treating him worse for their differences and always admitting when he's helped shape a changing perspective. Solas daring to ask for help and marveling at the fact that he receives it, that the same woman who asked if it might some day be possible to live alongside spirits, who did not immediately shoot down his critique of THE CHANTRY REFUSING TO ACKNOWLEDGE SPIRITS AS LEGITIMATE BEINGS (GAH), who did not laugh at him for saying he preferred their company most days, this woman, is going to drop time and resources during war time preparations to personally help his friend.

And then, when he is too late and has once again failed someone he considers a friend, he disappears within himself, where he has always gone to exact punishment for the weight of the lives he believes he's betrayed. It almost works, too.

Psych. Lavellan doesn't want him to grieve alone, to stare at the place in the Fade where his friend used to be and think of all he should have done differently.

“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

“It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

And still she unbalances him, accepts him, wants more. Solas is sharing a personality that brings him the closest he has ever been to his spirit form, and it is ENOUGH for her. Existing as he has always dreamt of is all takes to earn her loyalty, respect, and eventually love.

But does she stop there? No. She doesn't chafe at this random apostate who speaks with certainty and unapologetically delves into a past he believes worth preserving, even at the cost of questioning her culture as it currently stands.

The very woman he once thought of as a mistake that HE unleashed upon the world is asking to be a part of his, not because of what he can bring to the table, not because she needs a right hand man, and certainly not because she thinks he has some well of power and intelligence critical to winning over enemies she’s willing to join for "supervisory" purposes (cough cough hi Mythal). She bears the weight of choices that can and will lead to death, to pain, and when it wears on her she relies on him, not for solutions but so that at the end of it all she might smile with someone who knows her heart and the good she tried to do amidst a sea of terrible options. She wants to be known, no inch of her unturned, and worse, she thinks she knows him. But how could she? This is no longer who he is, it is merely the remnants of what he destroyed to make a world at Mythal's whim.

“You’re an admirable man. Not many people know who they are the way you do.”

“Thank you. Both for saying that and…for seeing that. Few in this world can see me instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears”

She. Sees. Him. Every part he slowly is realizing he wants to be known for and even a few he thought he could hide. And then he gives it all up. Because he woke to a new world where spirits and elves and mages were so far removed from the role they played in Arlathan that it can only be yet another mistake he caused and must fix, never mind the fact that the dwarves have forgotten why they fled underground millennia ago in the first place.

The friend who tore him from the world he loved, urged him to take physical form? She is dead, too, never mind the fact that she ignored his urging for a different path, nevermind that he killed and tore and hurt in her name because otherwise what was losing the part of himself he loved for?

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.”

He may no longer recognize where the Dread Wolf ends and where Solas begins, but if he gives up now and permits himself the chance to remember, the pain he caused himself and others means nothing, because he did it all for Mythal and in his final discussion with her, regardless of what Veilguard tries to convey, she does not release him from his position as her agent.

And maybe that's part of why I'm so angry, because EVEN BEFORE TRESPASSER, the fragment of Mythal that ends up in Morrigan could have freed him, but she does not.

"I am sorry." He whispers.

"The failure was mine," he tells her, voice trembling. "I should pay the price."

Silence.

And do we get that "what we did, we did together" psuedo-fake ass-absolution, the one that, if given enough time and safety to put himself first he may have realised he doesn't truly need to pursue the things he deserves, that make him feel finally like himself again? No the fuck we don't.

"As am I, old friend." She murmurs.

Looking through the lens of Veilguard, this isn't an apology, it's a condemnation. It's Mythal tormenting him one more time, twisting the knife deeper, agreeing that it is Solas alone who has brought them to this point, who deserves to be punished. And then she reminds him what they are to each other, what he is supposed to be to her. What he must become again.

"It isn't abuse if I ask," Cole says in his personal quest.

"Not always true," Solas shoots back.

So he recommits to the friend he gave up his nature for, he refuses to let himself remember that Lavellan learned the full truth of his identity and still begged him not to mourn alone. Even so, he still cannot quite forget.

Var lath vir suledin. Our love will persevere.

I wish it could, vhenan.

And so he pushes onwards, spending almost a decade denying himself his true nature and regretting that he ever gave it a chance to come through because now he KNOWS that this world is different and a little broken, but it's a world he could be a part of because of the woman and the friends that made a place for him. It is a world that doesn't necessarily need to be restored as much as it might need renovation, but that is not the world Mythal demanded of him when she let him kill a remaining piece of her. And any solution but that means the hurt of taking a body, of hurting the titans, of time and time again being called on by one evanuris to fix a problem they all caused, was for nothing.

And a Pride of that magnitude, that sinister an origin, has a long, long way to fall.

And then that same uppity little shit has the audacity to tell him it's not too late, that he can turn back.

He kills again. He kills again. He kills again.

He kills a friend.

He fails to prevent the Evanuris from wreaking havoc a second time, wrenches another innocent into his war, and when they ask him about the woman he calls vhenan, he feels the mask stifling him begin to suffocate. But he never lets it fall, because to surrender now is to place her broken heart atop the pile of regrets he's been holding up like Atlas crumbling beneath the weight of the world itself. Because he still thinks it selfish to want the things that make him feel like himself again, so they need to be taken off the board entirely.

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

If he gives up now, his entire corporeal life has been a betrayal of many, but worst of all, he will have ruined himself for nothing.

But then she's there. A little older, a little sadder, and still looking at him like she did the night he almost broke and instead carefully removed any suggestion that she had ever belonged to anyone but herself.

"Didn't you hear me?" Her every action screams as she kneels to meet his gaze like he did the day he took her arm (another failure, another sacrifice he cannot let be for nothing).

The tombstone in the fade is his greatest fear, but it is not his fate. Why? She will not let it be. It cannot be his din'anshiral if she is not beside him.

Lavellan may not have understood the depth of exactly WHEN Solas first came somewhere foreign and uncertain to help, but she never once failed to keep her promise. She refuses to let his initial desire to do good be held against him any longer. And when she sees him accept that not-quite-absolution-definitely-more-of-a-power-play from the god that saw what he was capable of and molded him into a weapon, she finds her in to make sure he doesn't walk off alone to mourn again, never again will she lose him to the expectations others have of him. No doubt she wants to find a way to sink the fingers of her good hand into that spectral visage and tear it away like he wishes to do to the veil. But she is not here for Mythal. She is here for her heart, and for the man who has been carrying it since the moment her lips met his in the fade ten years ago.

“No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

She forces him to see that the only remaining betrayal is to lock himself away one more irreversible time. All that's left to lose is the piece of himself he cherishes more than his greatest victories: all that he has to gain comes from making sure the love that was given to him at Skyhold, in the moment where Varric saw all he was capable of and still tried to bring him back home, was not given in vain.

"There is no fate but the love we share." She tells him as soon as Mythal's too-little-too-late platitudes send shudders through his body.

Banal nadas ar lath'ma vhenan.

It will not be so terrible a place, so unforgivable a betrayal if he can finally dare to put himself first. If, unlike that night in Crestwood, he finally gives in not to break, but to make himself whole.

There's a codex entry in Inquisiton about a spirit of wisdom who is summoned by researchers and only after a very pleasant conversation do they realize they made a mistake and never successfully bound the spirit in the first place, that it chose to speak with them of its own accord.

"I am not certain the spirit would have talked so freely had it been shackled at the time," writes the author of the entry.

I keep thinking about this alongside the datamined line of Morrigan saying, "And so, the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things love."

But that isn't quite right, is it?

Because in the end, of course the Dread Wolf could only ever freed by, over everything, love.

[currentfandomkick]

Everyone thank @harvestandhearth for this ^^

Heads up, i’m going with intersex danny as ectoplasm exposure and presumed afab until he was able to clarify which gender he was (toddler) and chose his own name as Danny for this. Tim is still a nicu baby, and the two were presumed fraternal twins until a lot later.

And possible trigger warning, while not in Danny’s POV talking about what vlad did with the clones does trigger an episode to a degree, but this is all third POV with it being others’ observing Danny trying to ground himself after a stressor triggered something.

And as a personal headcannon, since Danny can turn parts of himself intangible, a nervous stim for him when he cant remove himself and go where he feels safe is to pull at his arteries or nerves—never managing it but passing through them as a target is soothing as its a tiny challenge, repetitive, and doesn’t hurt him but he can feel it happening so it helps ground himself after a trigger.

Timothy Jackson Drake nee Fenton pt2

Cyborg had two options with the news Red Robin and Phantom were twins: update the League files and let the paranoid bastards monitoring them find out that way, or telling them.

He did have a front row seat to the Dick and Kori’s disaster era many of them blame Dick for.

He updates Phantom and Red Robin’s files, links them as “twins raised apart geographically, and very attached emotionally” and let the cards fall where they may.

If Dick wanted to bring drama to the titans way back when, he can discover batfam drama on bis own time and away from Cyborg this time.

—

Tim was getting ready for patrol after his Call with Jazz and Dani. Danny crashed his pre-patrol routine to looking over possible redesigns from ghost fashionistas on a call.

The hooded cloak concept is popular and growing on Tim.

Apparently giving him a dragon as his callsign was also popular.

He was liking some of redesigns as different birds. Rook’s and Cardinal having a functional glider built in. Someone with the call mabychan didnt go too far off his current look, and it was possible to add the flight functions. The aesthetic addition of gold or yellow onto the suit proper rather than just his gear was interesting enough to explore later.

Danny continued to advocate for Tim playing with ecto-infused tech to be less trackable and was ignoring the very fact ecto signatures are very trackable and are transferable to people.

He was debating the winged cape-hood combo when his work phone kept going off.

“So, cutting this early again?”

“They can wait. Now, do you think maby could mix the hood and wing cape into her design? Like, my hair is wrong but it’s not far off from what i was going for, i think these two,” Tim grabbed his favorite Rook and Cardinal designs and lifted them to show Danny, “are a good reference for how i want the glider part to work.”

“I’ll contact her and see what she says,” Danny raised an eyebrow as his work phone began to flash red as it kept going off. “You gonna answer that or…”

“They’ll live, i’m not on the clock yet, and they interrupted my cases so many times this week with these stupid team building exercises. Like, hoe, i have a life outside of my two jobs, shut the fuck up and let me live!”

“You sure they aren’t a johnny-skulker hybrid?”

“Positive. They don’t hunt me for my pelt. Most of the time—Hood and mini Robin might if they have a mental break again.”

“Why have i not kidnapped you home sooner?”

“You respect my boundaries and are eviler for doing so.”

“Clearly, my evil-self solo-ed the Justice League and affiliates.”

“I’m still certain if i was alive, i would have beat evil you’s ass.”

“Dipshit, i would not have gone evil i would be a shaky chihuahua following your ass everywhere if any of my idiots didnt die in that accident.”

“Fair. So, i get Val, Anita, bart, Kon will try but he may run late with chores at the Kent’s, Cassie is coming, and against the odds you get to face an olympic archer too!”

“Oh my god, you guys could stand a chance if Dad’s aim doesn’t obliterate your points. How did you get Cissie to agree?”

“I told her Greta’s on your team and reminded her they were still tied for who was winning a bet way back when. Then called her a dick for deserting us in our time of need.”

“At least i don’t have to worry Slobo.”

“He’s on kiddo duty while we play.”

“So strategic sabotage.”

“You know me so well.”

“Evil, evil bastard brother!”

“Don’t talk about our mom like that.”

“I was talking about Aunt Janet.”

“Never mind, carry on.”

“Nah, but your phone is annoying me so—“ Danny shifted and Phantom burst out of his screen. “Ancients that sucked!”

Tim rolled his eyes as Danny bemoaned his latest fire walls.

“Use real fire ants next time, Ancients Damnit!”

“No.”

Danny snagged his phone as he reloaded his smoke pellets. “Now what does—holy shit. Did you not tell them you’re co-workers?”

“It was obvious—why do they think I turned down the family dinner invites unless Steph was there? I need bestie backup to handle their shit off hours.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t. They think you’re a Bat when you’re a fucking Fenton. Holy shit!”

“I never hid it,” Tim defended, “They’re detectives, they dan detect.”

Danny began wheezing, curled around the phone and cackling.

“…did B send anything yet?”

Danny shakily passed the phone. Tim ignored the group chat and looked to his private one with Bruce and Alfred.

“Cave. Now.”

“I was unaware of your living relatives Master Timothy. Do invite them over, we have much to discuss. From, Alfred Pennyworth”

Tim groaned, moving to put the last of gear in place.

“I was invited by your co-parent, I’m coming.”

“Chaos gremlin.” He waved Danny to follow him into the elevator, away from his (relatively) civilian quarters.

“You say that like you aren’t one too.”

“I hide it better, when it matters,” Tim shrugged. “Blame Aunt Janet’s social chameleon lessons.”

“Deceiver of all,” Danny narrated with the utmost dramatics as they exited the elevator. “be evil with your whole chest or be the Good Twin!”

“Fuck that. Now get your ass in gear, you’re riding Bitch.”

“Hey, if guys at school are going to keep calling me Fentonia, I believe I can say you gotta stop calling it that. Clearly I’m the tagalong and a snack.”

“Nope,” Tim readied Red Bird. “You smell like a bitch and look like shit. Why Val likes you, the world may never know.”

“Fuck you. And we share a face!” Danny got on behind him, ignoring the offered helmet.

“I wear it better and dont have baby fat. Safety first lab accident.”

“You look like that brainless dipshit from Oz, but boned,” Danny snapped as he put on the helmet and waiting for Tim to go.

“At least when I crossdress, it’s not a question of which gender I’m presenting as,” Tim grumbled as they sped out.

“Eat a cock, you know they thought i was a girl for a year.”

“I mean—“ Tim took a sharp turn out of the garage and merged into Gotham’s traffic .

“Abort, no sex stories from my twin this early—.”

“It’s 9 at night mostly ghostly.”

“—And did you forget i ate your fraternal twin in the womb and we became identical in a case of severe Gray’s Anatomy BS?”

“Look, the Nicu was A Lot, and with how much medical mystery shit our family has going on, can you blame me?”

“Yep. Medical mystery, magical mystery, family curse and Fenton Luck must be kept

Separate big brother, or are you getting sennial in your old age?”

“Fuck off.”

“And once again, your 9 pm is my 4 am. I’m a witching hour girlie, Reddicus Robininous.” Danny snarked as they sped outside of Gotham City proper into the Rich Bitch greenery and woods.

“I blame Pix,” Tim groaned.

“Beanie taught me that!”

“But Pix taught you to say it.”

“She did, she did.”

The ride to the Cave was quiet, Danny frowning at the lack of stars.

“Leave it.”

“But i can probably pull it out of the atmosphere.”

“And put it where?”

“… my chest?”

“Nope, no self experimentation without scientist supervision.”

“Don’t you count?”

“I am a detective, combatant, chemist and hacker. I am not a scientist.”

“Sounds fake.”

“You’re fake.”

“I’m ghostly, and a member of the cloned kids club.”

“You ate my twin in the womb.”

“So i get to be evil!”

“No. I’m evil; I’m a ceo and help a lot of coverups as a vigilante for other vigilantes and a handful of anti-heroes.”

“Evil me took out your not-son and his friends!” Danny argued.

“Please, three separate evil me’s managed that, and came back to gloat.”

“Well, those three ceased to exist or evil last i checked. My evil me’s in therapy and still murdery.”

“I know—how’s Dan doing and are we going with older brother cover or cousin like Dani?”

“His call, and he’s… unpacking still.”

“Eh-hem,” Alfred interrupted as Tim parked Red Bird. “I believe we need to have a family meeting are your other family members joining, excusing this Dan?”

“No, they don’t know this is happening,” Tim answered.

“That,” Danny looked around at the… trophy wing(?) of the cave. “Aannnd Jazz would enjoy psychoanalyzing you all too much. So, is this a ‘check all the info for verification cautionary tale’ or something else?” He asked as he turned his attention back to the bat-butler. Batler(?)

“Something else, Master Daniel.”

“Just Danny. I chose it, I get to keep it in all contexts.”

Alfred moved to open his mouth.

“Only one to not call him that made him an unwilling teen parent,” Tim interjected before Alfred could start up on formalities.

Alfred narrowed his eyes. “Has this individual been taken care of?”

Tim and Danny shared a look. “Working on it,” Tim answered, rubbing the inside of Danny wrist before he could start tugging his arteries or nerves as a stress stim.

Alfred looked between them. “Anything else i should be aware of Master Danny?”

“Just keep toast away from me, and I’m not a solid foods person—can do solid food in shake form just uh, jaw tends to freeze and lock at random since my powers came in.”

Alfred hummed in response to that. “Soft solids are acceptable, yes?”

Danny slowly nodded his head, and moved his hand to the thermos on his hip.

Tim squarely kept Danny on the side he could better block the cameras from as they followed Alfred up.

“I made a batch of chocolate salted caramel chip oatmeal cookies. I will bring you a more drinkable version of the batter with a strawberry smoothie on the side. Master Tim, your usual will be beside your serving.”

Tim grunted in response, checking his phone and keeping a steady hand on his twin’s pulse. Which was far too fast for Danny’s normal… trying to appease Tim’s co-workers by masking the liminality, or stress response to casually outing himself or to Tim dropping the Vlad forced cloning thing (Tim’s helped him with so, so many nightmares of watching his clones die. The fact one was identical to Rim didn’t help. Tim being present and alive did).

Danny smiled at him. Mask smile—so hiding Phantom’s impact or ignoring the trauma trigger he pulled. Yep, Tim is winning the evil twin contest for the wrong reasons again.

Alfred turned to see Tim analyzing his twin, who was more flushed in his face than before… he’d have to inform the Wayne clan to gentle their interrogation regarding Master Danny’s existence. Master Tim’s explanation helped explain the name situation, however it could have been done without triggering the poor boy. Had Master Tim given him a moment, he would have found the explanation unnecessary.

The twins stalled at the threshold of the meeting room.

Tim waved at Stephanie, Cass and Barbra sitting in the same general area together as he moved further in front of Danny and switched which hand was grounding him and monitoring his pulse. Stephanie was gleeful to say the least, Cass unfazed and Barbra giving him a too knowing wave back.

Dick was sitting between Damian and Bruce, the three dissecting every move Tim and Danny made. Tim made sure to shield him as much as he could from the imminent psychological warfare Bruce was planning. Damian would likely aim for any potential insecurity once he got too aggravated with everything, and was likely to say something that could set off Danny. He only really went through his firewalls instead of waiting for Tim to let him in when he was having a particularly nasty day and needed some twin time.

Tim couldn’t fathom what Dick’s plan was. The one he saw as his found older brother would laugh at him managing to fool everyone one on a loophole and tell him how to further the ruse. But the one who took up the cowl was different from the brother that mentored him and helped with everything from girls, leading a team and homework.

Duke and Jason were to the side. Jason looked morbidly amused while Duke seemed curious, so no worries on that end for Danny. Operation: ‘air out Batcorp’s laundry if they start shit’ was a go.

—

Okay next round i will want an idea of how you want batfam members to respond to the fact Tim ‘hid’ his family from them—as that’s how these chuckleheads are entering this meeting.

Tim’s got receipts and Danny is there mostly to divide Tim’s attention and watch the show.

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[plutotheplum]

Blush Wine

zayne x fem!reader

summary: a pressing personal issue has you turning to zayne in desperation. he is a doctor, after all.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, masturbation, finger-sucking, vaginal fingering, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, confessions

wc: 5.5k

a/n: just a cutesy little idea i had ^^

also on ao3!

“There’s something wrong with me.”

Your words leave you in an exasperated sigh, head tipping back as you stare at the ceiling of Zayne’s office, feeling utterly exhausted.

Zayne hums and the creak of his chair has you looking over at him, brows furrowing when you see he’s already begun to stand, the eartips of his stethoscope in place as he moves towards you.

“Zayne?” you say, huffing out a breath when he presses the stethoscope to your chest, “Zayne, no- not like that.”

“A cold?” Zayne murmurs, gazing down at you scrutinizingly, “I told you to be careful in the rain.”

“What?” you sputter, shaking your head, “no. No, it’s nothing like that.” You squirm a little in your chair, cheeks flushing lightly with embarrassment. “It’s- It’s more personal .”

Zayne stares down at you blankly, draping his stethoscope around the back of his neck. Your fingers tap against the edge of his desk agitatedly and Zayne catches the nervous tic, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Personal?” he echoes, raising his brows.

You nod, biting your lip nervously as you sneak a glance up at him. Zayne stares back at you sternly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I was going to see a gynecologist,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing further, “but- but you seemed like a better option.”

He tilts his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

“What exactly is the problem?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, casting your eyes downwards.

Zayne lets out a sigh, his finger coming out to tap against your forehead gently. “Tell me,” he coaxes, fingers brushing through your hair for a brief moment before pulling back. “It’s the only way I can help you.”

“I can’t-” you begin, nails digging into your palms. Your voice is a soft hiss when you speak again. “I can’t cum !”

Zayne’s grip on the edge of his desk falters when he hears your words, a choked sound masked as a cough leaving him. You peek up at him shyly when he clears his throat only to find that Zayne’s usual facade of cool indifference has returned.

“I see.”

The only sound for the next several minutes is the tick of the clock in Zayne’s office. You play with your fingers, already regretting your decision to come here.

“Is that it?” you ask finally, “you see ?”

“I’m thinking,” Zayne replies, his hand scrubbing over his face. “Why did I seem like the better option?”

“Because we’ve known each other for years, Zayne!” you say frustratedly, “I figured- figured you might have some valuable input, you know, as a doctor and- and a friend.”

“I see.”

You glare at him when he says those two words again.

“Have you tried clitoral stimulation?” 

You nearly choke on your spit when Zayne says that. He sounds so methodical, so disinterested that it almost annoys you again, but when Zayne stares at you expectantly you realize he’s only trying to help.

“Yes,” you mumble, picking at the loose strand of your sweater, “doesn’t work. I tried my fingers too, but I can never cum.”

Zayne hums thoughtfully, his gaze dragging over you before glancing off towards the clock.

“This Friday, I’m off.”

Your brows furrow, unsure what he meant by that.

“I don’t have work on Friday,” Zayne repeats, “neither do you. I’ll come over, examine you and see what I can do.”

“ What ?” you blurt out, “what do you mean examine me?”

“I have to see what’s wrong,” Zayne replies bluntly, shifting on his feet, “I can refer you to a gynecologist if you’d prefer that instead.”

Truthfully, you’d prefer neither. It doesn’t help that your mind conjures up the image of Zayne spreading your thighs apart, his focused gaze trained on you enough to send a rush of heat coursing through your body.

“It’s fine,” you say finally, standing up, “you can come over. I’ll- I’ll let you get back to work.”

Zayne nods, opening the door for you to leave. “Drive safe.”

You’re long gone when Zayne lets out a shaky exhale in the privacy of his office. He scrubs his hand over his face, his cheeks flushing as he remembers the way you had blurted out your problem . 

Zayne tugs at the knot of his tie, loosening it in an attempt to try and quell the sinful thoughts that were flooding his mind at that very moment.

You were going to be the death of him.

- 

You don’t know what to do with yourself when Friday rolls around.

It’s too hard to sit still, each of your actions jerky and agitated as your mind runs through the potential implications of this entire situation.

Zayne drops in around midday, the ring of your doorbell making you hesitate as your fingers curl around the doorknob. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to lie and tell Zayne that everything was fine.

The doorbell rings again and you open the door tentatively, peering up at Zayne.

“This isn’t really necessary,” you begin but Zayne shakes his head, stepping inside your apartment before locking the door behind him.

Silence passes over you both and Zayne stares at you for a moment longer, his gaze dipping over you.

“You’ll need to show me,” he murmurs, his fingers loosening the tie around his neck.

“Show- show you?” you echo, cheeks beginning to flush with embarrassment, “Zayne, you can’t be serious.”

He hums, moving to sit down on your couch, his thighs spreading slightly as he gets comfortable. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent an indecent noise from spilling out when you see how good he looks.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” he asks bluntly.

“You’re being inconsiderate,” you retort, but his words seem to do the trick, making you move towards him.

You turn to sit down next to him, but Zayne’s fingers are curling around your hips, pulling you down onto his lap instead. A surprised squeak escapes you, body squirming as you try to move off of his lap. Zayne holds you in place, his chest pressing against your back, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Z- Zayne?” you yelp, voice pitching up.

“Show me.”

You turn your head incredulously to find that Zayne’s gaze has darkened, his eyes boring into yours intensely. 

“Do you do this with everyone?” you murmur, shaky fingers reaching down to pull your shorts down, leaving you only in a shirt and panties on Zayne’s lap.

“No,” he replies, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Only you.”

You spread your legs, your fingers slipping past the waistband of your panties to circle your clit.

“I- I feel as though you want this,” you whisper, tilting your head.

“I do,” Zayne confesses. “I have, for-” he lets out a long breath, watching the way your fingers move in your panties, “for years now.”

“Oh.” You let out a stuttery, little breath, heart soaring at his words. “So have I.”

Zayne hums, his lips brushing across your cheek fleetingly. His hand reaches out, stopping your movements, pulling your hand free from your panties.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” he says quietly, the pads of his fingers pressing against the fabric of your panties, rubbing gently. “Let me.”

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers digging into his forearm as he rubs a little more, his svelte fingers flexing against your clothed cunt. Zayne taps your hip after a moment and you lift your hips for him, letting him pull your panties down.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs, fingers gliding through your folds, “that’s good.”

“Stop talking like that,” you complain, hips tilting up into his touch.

“I’m simply examining you,” Zayne replies, but you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, the playful brush of his nose against your cheek.

A soft gasp leaves you when his lithe fingers find your clit, circling the swollen bud.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his other hand creeping up your shirt to find your breasts, your nipples already hardened, “relax for me.”

You do as Zayne says, letting his fingers work against you, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs your clit for you. Slick has begun to leak from you rapidly, a dull ache settling in your cunt as Zayne quickens his circling, his lips pressing against your neck.

“Inside,” you whisper needily, fingers wrapping around his wrist, “Zayne, I need your fingers inside .”

“No,” Zayne says sternly, squeezing at your breast as he strokes his fingers over your clit, petting the swollen bud, making your thighs twitch. “You’ll cum like this first and then you’ll cum on my fingers.”

You let out a frustrated whine, but the kiss Zayne lands to your cheek soothes your annoyance. He manages to pull more noises free from your lips with the way he rubs your clit, the press of his fingers growing harder when he sees your mouth drop open, head falling back against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Zayne encourages, the fingers of his other hand pinching and rolling your nipple. “Just like that, love. Fall apart for me.”

A few more strokes over your clit is all it takes, a sharp gasp sounding as your orgasm rips through you, body shuddering on top of Zayne’s lap.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers not letting up as he rubs your clit through the twitches racking through your body, “did so well, baby.”

You slump against his chest, panting softly, head lolling to the side to blink up at him dazedly.

“You fixed me,” you mumble, nose nudging against his when he lowers his head.

“Seemed a little too easy,” Zayne murmurs.

You roll your eyes and Zayne smiles, his hand turning your head to the side. His head dips and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours for the first time. He kisses you softly, his fingers stroking through your folds again.

Zayne groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth. You whimper, hips rocking into his fingers, feeling the press of them against your aching cunt. He pulls back to press his lips to your jaw, trailing soft kisses along your skin, his breath hot.

He presses one finger inside of you, drawing a moan out of you. Another finger joins soon after and you’re mewling desperately, pressing his hand against your pussy, wanting to feel his fingers deeper.

“Pretty pussy’s tight, love,” Zayne whispers, pushing your shirt up to finally get a good look at your breasts. “ Fuck ,” he breathes out, groping at one your breasts greedily, “you’re beautiful.”

“Zayne,” you hiccup out his name, biting your lip when you feel how hard he is against your ass, “feels s’good.”

Your hips rock back, grinding against his clothed cock. Zayne grunts, his forehead pressing into your shoulder at the feel of you against his bulge.

You writhe when he fucks his fingers into you rapidly, back arching as you moan loudly, feeling the curl of his fingers inside of you.

“I like you,” he rasps, nosing into your cheek, unable to help himself from laying firm, hot kisses all over your cheek and jaw, nipping at your neck gently.

You open your mouth to respond, but Zayne feeds you his fingers instead, keeping you full. A drunken slur sounds from you and Zayne huffs out a low laugh, his thumb adding to the mix when he circles your clit as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt.

You suckle on his fingers, tongue swirling around them mindlessly, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“Needy,” Zayne says, slowing the pace of his fingers, drawing out the moment.

You squirm on his lap, hips rocking and rolling, trying to grind against his cock and hump his hand, desperate to cum. Zayne lets out a low moan when he feels the brush of your ass, his hand slipping from your mouth to grip your hip in an attempt to stop you.

“Please,” you gasp, “please, Zayne, wanna- ah - wanna cum!”

“Go ahead, love,” he murmurs, resuming his pace, his fingers fucking in and out of your sloppy pussy. “Cum on my fingers.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, teeth sinking into your lower lip. The tight coil in your stomach snaps when he curls his fingers inside of you again, his lips pressing against your ear in a low groan.

Zayne captures your lips in a kiss when you cum, his hand smoothing up and down your side soothingly as you shudder again, your soft cries muffled by his lips on yours.

“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing you gently, “good girl. Came so good, baby.”

You give him a hazy smile, turning on his lap, straddling him instead. Your arms wrap around his neck and Zayne sinks into the kiss, moaning into your mouth when you roll your hips, grinding your wet cunt all over his trousers.

Zayne moves you off of his lap before long, standing up, his hand pressing against his hard, clothed cock.

“Can I watch?” you breathe out, voice airy.

Zayne flushes, his cheeks and the tips of his ears covered in a pretty pink. You lick your lips when he rubs his hand over his bulge, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“Please, Zayne?” you continue, voice softening further, “it’s- it’s only fair, right? You got to touch me and- and I just want to watch.”

“You’re infuriating,” he grits out, his eyes narrowing into a half-hearted glare.

You smile up at him when he steps closer, eyes dropping down to watch his lithe fingers undo the buckle of his belt. It falls to the floor, along with his pants and boxers and you swallow harshly when you see how hard his cock is.

It’s nice, like all the parts of Zayne, the black hair at the base of his cock trimmed neatly. You bite your lip, hands grasping at the armrest of the couch when you see how thick his cock is, the tip of it flushed a few shades darker than his cheeks.

“Is that what you want?” Zayne rasps, his hand wrapping around his cock, pumping it slowly, “hm? I didn’t think you were so filthy .”

“‘s not filthy,” you mumble, inching a little closer to his cock.

Your lips part, tongue lolling out, trying to taste the glob of pre-cum beading at the tip of Zayne’s cock. He grunts when he sees what you’re trying to do, shaking his head as the tips of his fingers press into your forehead, pushing your head away.

“No,” he says breathily, “you wanted to watch, so watch .”

A soft, frustrated whimper leaves you, a pout settling on your lips. It’s impossible to sit still with the dull ache of emptiness settling in your cunt again, thighs rubbing together needily as Zayne squeezes the head of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from the tip.

“Z- Zayne,” you whine, eyes half-lidded as you watch him stroke his cock, “Zayne, you’re so big.”

Zayne groans, his head tipping back in pleasure. You take your chance, reaching out to grab at his shirt, pushing it up a little to watch the flex of the muscles in his abdomen. It’s making you wet again, the feeling almost uncomfortable as slick drips from between your thighs.

You lean forward, landing a soft kiss to his hip. Zayne’s eyes flutter open, his gaze hazy as he stares down at you. You smile up at him sweetly and Zayne huffs out a breathy laugh, hardly able to believe the sight in front of him.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, his thumb reaching out to brush over your lower lip, “you’re so pretty.”

You hum, mouth opening for his thumb when he presses it in further, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans and your eyelids droop a little further, gaze dipping to find that his grip on his cock has tightened.

“Is this how you get off when you’re alone?” you whisper, words slurring around his thumb as he strokes it over the surface of your tongue.

Zayne nods, pumping his cock faster, his thighs twitching minutely.

“Do you think about me?” you whisper again, biting the tip of his thumb gently.

“Yes,” he groans, “ fuck- yes, all the time. You’re- hah- you’re all I can think about.” Zayne leans down and you rise up on your knees to meet him, lips pressing against his in a slow kiss. “It’s always you , love.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at his words, eyes lighting up at the little confession you’ve managed to draw out from the usually stoic man. 

His brows knit together as he strokes his cock, his lips finding yours again as he kisses you desperately, his hand cupping the back of your head to hold you in place.

“I- hah- I’m close,” Zayne grits out, his hips stuttering.

“Wanna watch you cum, Zayne,” you whisper, nipping his lower lip playfully.

He groans, body hunching over as he fucks his cock into his fist, letting out rasping pants.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, fingers stroking across your cheek, “wanted a taste, didn’t you?”

You nod eagerly and Zayne lets out a low moan, his hips jerking as he cums. You hold your tongue out, eyes shutting when you feel his cum splatter over your cheeks and tongue, a soft mewl slipping out of you at the heady taste.

You lick your lips, leaning forward to lap at the tip of his cock. A smile spreads across your face when Zayne shudders, his fingers spreading out across your scalp as he holds you in place, letting you suckle at his spent cock. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, thumb stroking across your cheek, “cleaning me up so well, baby.”

You hum, kissing the tip of his cock, mouth opening for his thumb when he feeds you a stray drop of cum. 

Zayne dips his head soon after, kissing you feverishly. He cups your cheeks, pulling you closer. You sigh into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck, feeling his softening cock against your stomach.

“I like you,” you whisper against his lips, pecking them gently.

“I know,” Zayne murmurs, his hands petting at your sides, “I like you too.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your forehead, a contented hum leaving you when he kisses your cheek after. Zayne wraps his arms around your waist and you laugh when he hoists you up, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Bedroom?” you ask, fingers playing with the soft strands of his hair.

Zayne nods, one of his hands squeezing at your ass. You don’t make it very far when his pager sounds.

You pout when Zayne sets you down onto your feet, peeking over at his pager as he reads it.

“Urgent?”

“Seems like it,” Zayne murmurs, his brows furrowing slightly, “I have to go.”

Despite the urge to protest, the urge to make Zayne stay with you for longer, you can’t find it in yourself to voice your thoughts when you see the serious look on his face. Instead, you let him get dressed, helping him redo his tie. 

Zayne lowers his head, his fingers gripping your chin to tilt your head up so he can kiss you again. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck, lips working against his lazily.

“Thank you,” you say, kissing his cheek when his hands drop away from your waist, “for helping me out.”

Zayne’s eyes glimmer with mirth, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a half-smile.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, “just don’t go to anyone else if you have that problem again, okay?”

You pretend to consider his words, even though you know no one could ever replace the spot Zayne’s carved out in your heart.

“I mean it,” Zayne murmurs when you don’t respond. His body draws near, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. “I want you to only need me.”

His words curl around your heart, squeezing tight. Your mouth opens to respond, but your breath gets caught in your throat and Zayne lets out a soft chuckle when he sees how flustered he’s made you.

“You- you can’t just say that ,” you grumble, face pressing into his chest.

“Why not?” Zayne asks, his hand stroking your hair gently.

“Because!” you say exasperatedly, peering up at him, “you just can’t.”

Zayne smiles down at you, his lips pressing against your forehead. “Well, I did. Let me take care of you, hm? I’ve been doing it until now.”

You nod your assent, kissing his cheek before pushing him towards the door.

“Bye, Doctor Zayne.”

“Bye,” Zayne replies, his eyes roving over you, committing the image of you bare and dazed to mind. “Remember to rest. Eat when you can and drink plenty of wat-”

“Zayne!” you interrupt, pointing at his flashing pager again, “I know .”

Zayne sighs, stepping through the doorway to leave. He stares at you one more time, his voice creeping through the narrowing gap as he closes the door. “I’ll send you a text.”

-

So, Zayne solved your problem. 

But he had given you another problem in return. You couldn’t stop thinking about him or his fingers. Worst of all, the simple thought of it left you hazy, your mind fogging over whenever you remembered the feel of his fingers inside your cunt. 

The following week, you’d missed at least three good shots at the training facility leading to Jenna shooting you a strange look when she saw how off-target your shots were. A wane smile had graced your lips and you’d gone home in a daze.

It’s how you’ve ended up like this, squirming around in bed, hand shoved down into your sleep shorts, brows furrowed. All you could think about was Zayne and how much you missed him. 

A soft hiccup escapes you when you feel your impending orgasm fade, a frustrated noise leaving you. You grasp blindly for your phone, pressing it to your ear after calling him.

“Hello?” 

“Zayne,” you whine, fingers stroking over your clit, “Zayne, I need you.”

You can hear Zayne sucking in a sharp breath when he hears your whine, and the sound of his chair moving.

“I’ll be there.”

-

You’re opening the door when you hear the doorbell ring and Zayne stumbles back as you practically throw yourself at him, yanking him down by his tie to kiss him. 

It doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate, his hands sliding to the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. Zayne shuts the door with his foot, his lips working against yours eagerly.

“Again?” he asks, carrying you into your bedroom before setting you down gently.

You nod, pulling him down for another kiss, fingers working at his tie and the buttons of his shirt. “Doesn’t work if it’s not you.”

Zayne hums, pushing at your shoulders slightly to get you to lay down. You bite your lip when he sinks down onto his knees, arms pulling you towards the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulders.

“I’ll take care of you,” Zayne affirms, pulling your shorts off.

He groans at the sight of your bare pussy, thumbs spreading apart your puffy folds. Your arousal clings to his fingers and the first brush of Zayne’s thumb against your clit has you seeing stars.

“Please,” you gasp out, moaning softly when Zayne’s hot breath hits your pussy, “want your mouth, Zayne.”

“You have it, love.”

Zayne squeezes your hand, his tongue licking a stripe up your slick folds. You whine, thighs twitching at the sensation, your other hand sinking into his soft hair. He lets out a low noise at the taste, his face pressing between your thighs.

Your toes press into shoulders, hips bucking as Zayne’s tongue swirls through your folds. He makes a few measured sounds as he laves over your clit, sucking the swollen bud into his mouth every so often.

“Taste good, baby,” Zayne murmurs, pulling back to press wet, sloppy kisses onto your inner thighs. “Such a pretty pussy,” he breathes, his cheek resting against your thigh as he stares at the pitiful clench of your cunt around nothing.

“Stop- stop teasing me,” you whimper, back arching and fingers fisting Zayne’s hair when he lands a few kisses to your clit.

Zayne grants your request, his mouth returning to your puffy pussy, lips suctioning around your clit. You mewl, eyes squeezing shut as you feel the press of his fingers inside of you, filling you up.

“Yes,” you begin to chant when he curls his fingers and begins to fuck them out of you, “ oh- yes, yes, please nghh- ”

Zayne slurps at your cunt, the lewd noise filling the air coupled with the sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy. You can hardly think straight, the pleasure so mind-numbing that your toes are curling and you’re tugging at Zayne’s hair roughly.

“W- wait,” you mumble dazedly, “Zayne- Zayne, want your cock.”

He peers up at you, his eyes never leaving yours as he laps at your pussy, drawing back before spitting on it.

“Thought you wanted my mouth?” he says, fingers still working in and out of you.

“Need you to fill me up,” you demand, trying to pull him up, “I want you inside of me.”

Zayne is stubborn like you, if not more, denying you as he buries his face back into your cunt, sucking and licking, drinking down your wetness like he’s been starved. 

“You’ve already cum on my fingers,” Zayne rasps, kissing your clit, “cum on my tongue, then you can have my cock, love.”

You glare down at him, not appreciating the subtle edging. Zayne smiles up at you, his mouth opening wider to lap at your cunt before sucking at your folds messily, his tongue swirling around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh briefly. 

A squeal leaves you when Zayne suddenly holds you in place as he roughly sucks at your clit, mouth suctioning relentlessly. Your body jerks, legs kicking out at the feeling, his fingers grazing the sensitive spot deep inside of you.

“Cum,” Zayne orders sternly, moving his fingers faster, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.”

That’s all it takes, your thighs squeezing tight around his head, back arching as you cum, shuddering gasps leaving you. Zayne hums into your cunt when your thighs loosen, licking over your sensitive cunt gently, his lips pressing against your clit in an affectionate kiss.

You lay there, limbs heavy, staring up at the ceiling hazily. The clink of Zayne’s belt draws you out of the trace post-orgasm, arms wrapping around his neck when he crawls over you, kissing you softly.

“Still want my cock?” he asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“Mhm,” you nod, and it’s you pushing at his shoulders this time, making him lay down as you crawl up onto his lap, straddling his hips.

There’s pre-cum smeared across Zayne’s abdomen when you look down, his cock hard and thick, the tip flushed dark.

“All yours,” Zayne whispers, his thumb stroking over your lips and jaw when you begin to drag your cunt over his cock. “I’m all yours, baby.”

You smile down at him, nuzzling into his palm before turning your head to kiss his wrist.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Zayne replies, his hands grasping at your hips.

You lift them for him, rising up onto your knees. Zayne grasps the base of his cock, holding it for you, guiding you to sink down on him. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan when his cock presses into you, head falling forward when you feel how thick he is.

“Take what you want, love,” Zayne murmurs, “use me.”

A soft whine spills out of you, hands landing flat against his chest, your hips rolling. Zayne’s hand drifts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, moving you up and down on his cock.

You’re crying out his name desperately and Zayne groans, propping himself up on an elbow to pull you down, mouthing at your tits. He wraps his arms around your waist and you cup the back of his head, holding his head to your chest.

Zayne’s tongue swirls around your hardened nipple, the sensation of his teeth grazing and biting gently enough to send little twitches through your body.

“You’re- you’re so good,” you mewl, eyes fluttering shut while your nails dig into his broad shoulders. “I- fuck- I like you so much! Zayne- oh- hah- like you!”

Zayne moans in response, tongue flicking against your nipple until you tug at his head back using his hair, your lips crashing down onto his. It’s feverish and unrestrained, Zayne’s hands grasping at your waist, your hips and ass as though you might suddenly disappear.

“Ride me,” he urges, his breath fanning across your lips. “Ride me, my love.”

You nod, unable to stop yourself from kissing him again, widening the distance between your knees, setting a firmer base before you begin to rise and fall on his cock.

“ Shit- ” Zayne gasps, his head tipping back when he feels the clench of your pussy as you drag it up and down his cock.

The sounds of skin against skin fill your bedroom, both of you panting into each other’s mouths, Zayne’s brows knitting together as he stares up at you, his fingers flexing against your waist as though trying to hold back.

“I- I can’t- forgive me.”

Confusion flits across your face when you hear him. “Zayne?”

Zayne doesn’t respond, flipping you over onto your back; drawing a surprised squeak from you. You whimper when he kisses you roughly, his cock slipping out of you for a moment before Zayne pushes it back into you, his hips settling between your thighs.

Your arms wrap around his neck, Zayne’s face pressing into the crook of your neck as he ruts his hips into you with abandon. He tilts your hips up, driving his cock in with deep, rough thrusts, ripping every possible needy noise from your throat.

His back is covered in red welts with how you’ve been clawing down his skin, body writhing under his with every thrust he delivers. His balls are slapping against your ass, the sound making your cheeks flush, but you hold him closer, fingers tangled in his hair.

“Z- Zayne!” you hiccup, hardly able to form words, mouth hanging open with how he’s mouthing at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “Zayne, ‘m gonna cum!”

“You’re mine,” he hisses, shifting to peer down into your eyes, his hand coming to cup your jaw. “Only mine,” Zayne repeats, stealing a kiss from you, “all fucking mine.”

You nod rapidly in agreement, your thumb brushing over his lips before pushing into his mouth. A soft mewl leaves you when Zayne sucks, his tongue swirling around your thumb, his teeth biting gently.

“Cum,” Zayne slurs, his hips beginning to move unevenly, “cum for me, my love. Give it to me. Give everything to me.”

You seize under him, cunt clenching around Zayne’s cock and he moans deeply, trying to bury his cock as deep as possible inside of you. His cock twitches as he cums, thick ropes of his hot cum spilling into you, your cunt clenching around his cock weakly.

Zayne nuzzles into the crook of your neck and you let out a content hum, hands smoothing down over his broad back when he slumps over you.

“I can’t feel my legs,” you mumble.

Zayne lets out a hoarse laugh, kissing your cheek before moving off of you, laying down beside you instead.

He tugs you into his side, his warm palm moving down the side of your waist, caressing your hip soothingly as he kisses your temple. You sigh, moving closer to him, pressing into his side, eyes slipping shut as he squeezes your thighs slowly, relieving the dull ache that’s settled into your muscles.

“You’re beautiful,” Zayne whispers, cupping your cheek, tilting your head to look into your eyes when they blink open. 

A light flush covers your cheeks, a shy smile spreading across your face as you lean in, pecking his lips sweetly.

“You’re wonderful, Zayne.”

“Such high praise,” he murmurs, nose nuzzling against yours affectionately, “am I really so deserving?”

You roll your eyes, poking his chest in response before sitting up.

“Where are you going?” Zayne grumbles, his arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you back into his chest.

“I have to clean up,” you whine, eyes slipping shut when Zayne squeezes your breast.

You bare your neck to him a little more when he begins to plant soft kisses here and there, his hands petting over your spent body. A quiet moan spills from you when he kisses the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin when he speaks.

“Not so fast, love. We have to make up for lost time.”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Ohhh can I request prompt number 11- wondering if there might be a way to spend the holidays together "accidentally" and number 15- "YOU want to spend the holidays with ME??""Now that you say it, it really does sound weird." with Barty crouch jr please? You can choose either or both whatever you want ◡̈ thank you in advance<3

barty crouch jr x reader where you both spend the holidays together

The Slytherin common room buzzed faintly with the warmth of the enchanted fireplace, but to you, it felt more like a tomb. The empty couches and eerie quiet of the holidays always did that. You lay sprawled on Regulus Black's bed—his perfectly made bed, which you were mildly ruining with your presence—and shot a glare toward his open trunk, half-packed with the precision only someone as uptight as Regulus could manage.

"That’s my bed you’re defiling," a voice drawled.

You bolted upright, realizing with horror that Reg wasn’t the one who spoke. You’d accidentally sprawled onto Barty Crouch Jr.’s bed. The realization made you leap off it like it burned.

"Ugh," you groaned, brushing yourself off as if the act alone could cleanse you. "Do you even wash those sheets? Actually, don’t answer that—I don’t want to know."

Barty smirked. “Why, jealous of the ‘type of girls’ who—”

“Stop right there!” you barked, cutting him off. “I don’t need a list.”

Regulus, seated on the edge of his own bed, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Merlin’s sake, do you two ever take a break from this?"

You folded your arms. "Reg, I think it’s fair to say that I wouldn’t need to if he didn’t exist."

"And yet, here I am," Barty said cheerfully, settling on the arm of the couch like he owned the place.

"Existing loudly, obnoxiously, and in the worst possible way," you shot back.

Regulus groaned. "You know, sometimes I feel like I’m babysitting. Why do you hate each other so much?"

“Umm, I don’t know, Reg,” you replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe because he’s the most arrogant, annoying, insufferable, self-centered, overconfident, ridiculous—"

"Impressive vocabulary," Regulus deadpanned. "That’s seven insults in one breath. You’re rivaling Evans’ rants about Potter."

"Thank you," you said sweetly, before returning your glare to Barty.

He, for his part, looked far too amused. “I’m flattered, really. That much attention? I must be doing something right.”

Regulus ignored him. “Well, you’re going to have to tolerate him.”

“Pass,” you said immediately.

"Unfortunately, not an option," Reg continued. "You have two choices. Either come home with me for the holidays—awkward, tense dinners with Mother and Father included—"

"Barf," you interrupted.

"—or stay here at Hogwarts with Barty."

Your jaw dropped. "That’s not a choice! That’s Sophie’s Choice!"

Barty tilted his head. “Which one am I in this scenario? The kid that gets—”

"Don’t," you warned, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Regulus smirked faintly. "Well, what’s it going to be?"

You groaned. "Weirdly, staying with Crouch sounds like the better option. How did my life come to this?"

The Slytherin common room was hauntingly empty when the holidays began. The eerie quiet made you itch, and the firewhiskey you’d filched from the kitchens wasn’t doing enough to drown the loneliness. You sat in front of the fireplace, swishing the amber liquid in your glass as though it could conjure some company.

The door creaked open behind you. You didn’t bother turning around, but the low hum of voices made your stomach twist.

“…yeah, just up here,” Barty’s voice carried, warm and smooth in a way that made your teeth clench.

Moments later, he entered your line of sight—his arm slung around a girl whose name you vaguely recalled as Jessica. Or Miranda. Whatever. The two of them were all over each other, and you immediately looked back at the fire.

Barty’s voice broke through the air. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You took a long sip of whiskey. “Please, don’t let me stop you.”

The girl—still clinging to him—smirked, and you resolutely ignored her as she worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Barty, however, seemed distracted, his eyes flickering to you.

"How about we pick this up later?" he said suddenly.

The girl blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Very,” he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. She huffed, gathering her things, and stormed out.

Barty let out a long breath, plopped down beside you, and started buttoning his shirt. "Well, that’s not going to happen again."

You side-eyed him. “Shame. She seemed charming.”

“Jealous?” he asked, smirking.

You rolled your eyes and offered him the bottle of firewhiskey. "So, you know how I’m like—"

"Absolutely embarrassingly in love with me? Yes, I’m familiar. Go on."

"Can you take anything seriously?"

“Yes, I do. I take you very seriously.”

"Anyway," you continued pointedly, “you know how I’m, like, alone for the holidays?”

He tilted his head. "What are you talking about? I’m right here."

"You want to spend the holidays with me?"

"Now that you say it, it really does sound weird."

You groaned and leaned back against the couch, nursing the bottle of firewhiskey as if it held the answers to your problems.

“Careful,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Wouldn’t want you getting emotional on me.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” you muttered. “If I cry, it’ll be because I’m stuck here with you.”

Barty clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me, sweetheart. Truly. I’m a delight.”

“You’re a menace,” you corrected.

“Semantics.” He plucked the bottle from your hands and took a swig, ignoring your glare. “Besides, you’re the one who decided I was the lesser evil compared to awkward Black family dinners. Makes you wonder about your priorities.”

“I regret everything,” you deadpanned.

He grinned, leaning back to rest his head on the arm of the couch. The firelight danced across his features, softening the usual sharpness of his expression. For a moment, you hated how easy it was for him to look so... comfortable.

"Do you ever stop being smug?" you asked.

"Not when I’m winning."

"Winning what, exactly?"

He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "This. Us. Our rivalry. Whatever you call this disaster of a relationship."

"Relationship?!" you choked, nearly spilling your drink.

"Rivalry is a kind of relationship," he pointed out, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Merlin, just hex me now.”

"Tempting," he mused, stealing another sip from the bottle.

You reached over to snatch it back, and in the scuffle, his hand brushed yours. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and something in his expression shifted—so subtle, you almost missed it. But then he smirked, and the moment was gone.

“So,” he said, settling back. “What’s your plan? Drink yourself into oblivion until the new year?”

“Bold of you to assume I have a plan,” you muttered.

“Tragic, really,” he replied. “No wonder you need me.”

“I don’t need you,” you shot back.

“Sure you don’t,” he said easily, standing up and stretching. “Come on.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored, and I’m not spending the rest of the night watching you sulk. We’re going for a walk.”

“A walk?” you repeated incredulously. “It’s freezing outside!”

“Good thing you have that fiery personality to keep you warm,” he said with a grin, already heading toward the common room door.

You didn’t know why you followed him. Maybe it was the firewhiskey, or maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation, but somehow, you found yourself trudging through the snowy grounds of Hogwarts, your breath puffing in the cold air.

“This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever made me do,” you grumbled, shoving your hands into your pockets.

“Oh, please,” Barty said, walking a few paces ahead. “If this is the dumbest thing, then clearly I haven’t been trying hard enough.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. He turned back to glance at you, catching the fleeting moment of amusement before you could mask it.

“See? You’re having fun,” he said smugly.

“Barely,” you replied.

The owlery loomed ahead, its spires dusted with snow. Barty pushed open the creaking door, letting you step inside first. The warmth of the building, faint though it was, was a welcome reprieve from the cold.

As he wandered to a nearby perch, you pulled a letter from your pocket—the one you’d been avoiding since it arrived. Your parents had written to let you know they were home early from their trip and could come to pick you up if you wanted.

You scanned the letter, your eyes flickering over the words, before glancing at Barty. He stood by a window, his breath fogging the glass as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.

Without thinking too much about it, you pulled out a quill and parchment and began to write your reply.

Dear Mum and Dad, Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. Love, Me

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it before tying it to the leg of a nearby owl. The bird hooted softly, spreading its wings as it soared off into the night.

Brushing your hands together, you turned and made your way to where Barty was perched by the window. His breath fogged the glass as he stared out into the snow-covered grounds, looking strangely peaceful for someone who thrived on chaos.

“Enjoying the view?” you asked, hopping up to sit beside him on the ledge.

“Would be better if you weren’t ruining it,” he replied without missing a beat, glancing at you with a smirk.

“Oh, how tragic for you,” you said, nudging his shoulder lightly. “Should I leave you alone with your deep thoughts?”

“And deprive you of my company? I’m not that cruel,” he quipped, nudging you back.

You rolled your eyes, bumping him again, harder this time. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” he said, smirking as he nudged you right back. “Sitting with me. Bantering with me. Some might call it quality time.”

“Some might call it punishment,” you shot back, unable to suppress the grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning back against the wall. The firelight from the sconces glinted off his features, making him look almost softer than usual.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an awful lot of time in my presence.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, your tone light but your shoulder brushing his again.

“Too late,” he replied, smirking as he met your gaze.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, surprisingly. Instead, it felt… comfortable, even as the cold from outside seeped through the stone walls.

The walk back inside was quiet at first, snowflakes clinging to your robes as you made your way through the dimly lit corridors. The silence didn’t last long, though—because, well, Barty.

As you approached the main hall, he slowed, eyes catching on a towering Christmas tree tucked into a corner, adorned with only the faintest glimmer of lights.

“So, you know how-,” Barty began, his tone casual, almost too casual.

You smirked, cutting him off. “You’re obviously in love with me?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Touché,” he said, not missing a beat. “But as I was saying—before I was so rudely interrupted—we don’t have to wallow in misery here. We could, I don’t know, decorate the Christmas tree in our common room.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you think we’re supposed to do that? There aren’t decorations just lying around.”

He gave you a sly grin, the kind that always spelled trouble. “I’ve got my ways,” he said with a wink.

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “That sounds suspiciously ominous, but fine. Lead the way.”

As he guided you through the castle, you couldn’t help but pester him. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Salazar, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Barty groaned, though his tone held amusement.

“Excuse me if I don’t blindly follow someone whose life motto is basically chaos and poor decisions,” you shot back, earning a snicker from him.

Eventually, he led you to the seventh floor, stopping abruptly in front of a blank stretch of wall. You blinked, glancing around nervously. “Uh, Crouch, I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

He smirked, completely unfazed. “You worry too much, treasure.”

Your cheeks heated at the nickname, and you shot him a look. “Treasure? That’s new.”

He waved you off, nonchalant, though his smirk deepened. “You’ll get used to it.”

“All right, fine, but if Filch shows up, I’m hexing you first,” you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the small smile forming as you followed him.

As he paced in front of the wall, you crossed your arms. “Crouch, hate to break it to you, but a wall isn’t going to help us celebrate Christmas.”

He paused, turning to you with mock seriousness. “I feel two things right now. One, you’re severely underestimating my brilliance. And two, if I can call you treasure, you can at least call me Barty.”

“Oh, sod off,” you said, laughing.

“Charming,” he replied, grinning.

Before you could retort, the once-blank wall began to shift, stones rippling like water before solidifying into an ornate door. Your jaw dropped as Barty casually pushed it open.

“Ladies first,” he said, gesturing with exaggerated chivalry.

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Only for you,” he quipped, his grin widening.

Inside, your breath caught. The room was filled with everything you could possibly need to decorate a Christmas tree: boxes of shimmering ornaments, strings of enchanted fairy lights, and even rolls of tinsel that sparkled like stardust.

“Is that—” you stammered, pointing at a pile of candy canes stacked next to a miniature sleigh.

Barty draped an arm over your shoulders, looking smug. “This is the Room of Requirement, treasure. Think of something you really need, and it appears—within reason. Found it when Evan and I were pranking Snape.”

You shook your head in amazement, eyes wide as you took it all in. “Merlin, I love magic.”

Barty watched you, his smirk softening into something almost fond. “Yeah, it’s got its moments.”

You turned to him, excitement practically buzzing off you. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s turn that boring tree into something worthy of our genius.”

He grinned, grabbing a box of ornaments. “Now you’re talking.”

You and Barty dove into the decorations like kids in a candy shop. He threw a strand of tinsel over his shoulder, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Would you look at that?” he said, holding up a glittery bauble. “This one’s almost as sparkly as you.”

You snorted, grabbing it from his hand. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Crouch.”

“Please, I’m just getting started.” He waggled his brows before draping a garish red-and-gold ribbon around the tree in one dramatic flourish.

“Subtlety really isn’t your strong suit, is it?” you said, hanging ornaments with a bit more care.

“Subtlety is boring,” he replied, holding up a pair of elf-shaped ornaments and making them ‘kiss.’ “Now this is art.”

Rolling your eyes, you flicked a sprig of tinsel at him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a grin.

As the tree began to come together, you both stood back to admire your work—or, at least, your chaos. The tree was a glorious mess of mismatched ornaments, glowing lights, and way too much tinsel.

“Alright,” Barty said, clapping his hands together. “Time for the grand finale: the star.” He held it up, the light reflecting off its gilded surface.

“Go on, then,” you said, crossing your arms.

He scoffed. “You think I’m tall enough for this?”

“Why are you holding it, then?”

He gave you a mischievous look. “Because you’re going to sit on my shoulders, obviously.”

“Oh no, absolutely not,” you started, but Barty had already crouched down in front of you.

“Come on, treasure. Unless you want a very lopsided star?” He glanced back at you, his grin infuriatingly charming.

You groaned. “Fine. But if you drop me—”

“I won’t,” he said confidently. “Unless you insult my decorating skills again.”

With a roll of your eyes, you carefully climbed onto his shoulders. He stood up, holding your legs steady as you wobbled slightly.

“Stop moving!” you yelped.

“Relax, you’re doing great,” he said, his voice laced with laughter. “Just don’t kick me in the head.”

With a muttered curse, you reached up, placing the star delicately on the top branch. “There. Done.”

Barty gave a little celebratory bounce. “Perfect. You can come down now.”

You let out a relieved laugh as you slid off his shoulders, landing back on solid ground.

“See? Told you I wouldn’t drop you.”

You smirked. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

As you both stood there, admiring your handiwork, something peculiar happened. A small pop echoed above you, and when you glanced up, there it was—mistletoe, hanging innocently from thin air.

You turned to Barty, narrowing your eyes. “Really?”

He blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. “What? That’s definitely not my doing.” He gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Could it be the castle itself, trying to tell us something?”

“Oh, cut the theatrics,” you said, though you couldn’t help but laugh.

He leaned in slightly, his grin softening. “Well, we wouldn’t want to anger the castle, would we?”

You gave him a long, suspicious look. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, you’re still standing here,” he murmured, his voice lower now, more serious.

With a small smile, you stood on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He responded immediately, his hands coming up to gently cup your face.

When you pulled back, his grin was back, brighter than ever. “So, does this mean you’ll let me call you treasure more often?”

You shoved him lightly, laughing. “Don’t push it.”

“Too late,” he said, his laughter echoing through the room as he pulled you back in for another kiss.

REQUESTED FROM : this post RELATED TO : this post

[claudiafrankie]

Soul Purpose/Why Are You Here?

Disclaimer: Tarot is not an evidence-based practice. You are in charge of making you're own decisions.

Pile 1: Abundance

Hey pile 1! You picked the Abundance oracle card. Your tarot cards are the 2 of Swords, 3 of Swords, and the King of Cups.

As I was shuffling I was focusing on the imagery of your oracle card. I strongly got the feeling of being kind of put on the spot. You are having to make quick decisions. It's like the shape in the center of the card has so much going on around it. It's chaotic! The figures filling the picture look like sea creatures to me - sea urchins, those glowy jellyfish that live in the bottom of the ocean, sand dollars... All floating around in the current but in this big, condensed cluster. It's kinda dark in there but there's some sun coming through the current above.

Under sea kelp beds, that's the environment. You're here:

You're not quite sure what all you're going to come across. Cute fish... shark... friendly anthropomorphic sea otter wearing a news cap and suspenders... multiple sharks...

It's a little creepy/ominous but more importantly very beautiful and serene and otherworldly.

You're swimming through this kelp garden and you don't know what you're going to find, and all kinds of different things are going to pop out at you, you're going to have a lot of options in a lot of different areas in your life. You are not going to be someone who is stationary for very long. I think if you are stagnant and still (something you may struggle with) you aren't happy. You are bored more easily than others and have a deep craving for knowledge and novelty, absorbing every last drop of life that you can.

I think in human design, generator people's tell-tale sign for being out of alignment is frustration, they thrive off of having choices to pick from. This helps them feel inspired and like they are getting more out of life. Maybe you are a generator in human design, I think that is the most common type. You are a person of the people, you are salt of the earth, you care deeply for humanity and always pull yourself back to center when you catch yourself straying. You don't let things get to your head as much as you could.

It also looks like there's a chromosome in the center shape on the card. You are here unraveling karma from your past lives and for your ancestors. You are probably dealing with karma that you didn't create personally but exists in your bloodline. The bottom of the deck is the ten of swords - there are mostly sword cards here, with the king of cups standing out as the only water card. This is very Ardra energy in vedic astrology - strong, turbulent, powerful and stormy emotions. Ardra's deity is Rudra, a form of Shiva - who rules over storms. You are clearing out ooooold emotions that have been rotting in your family tree for years. You are finally processing some long-neglected baggage and releasing it.

The combination of the progression of the two to the three of swords, ending with the King of Cups suggests to me that you are going to become a true master of your inner world. Your lens you look at the world through will reach a level of clarity previously unknown to you and likely to your family. You are in tune with the environment in an electric way, sensing the humming and buzzing and shifts in the pitch and tone of the current washing around you. You let it all pass through you, understanding the futility in pretending to be unaffected. You let it pass through you, and you let it be there, and you don't let it shake you. For this reason others will cling to you - the RWS King of Cups sits on a throne carved from solid stone. It is anchored in tossing waves with a grey sky suggesting storms ahead. He looks calmly onward. People will view you as a shock-absorber, someone who can weather catastrophe and guide others through difficulty. I think this is where you are headed, but maybe aren't there quite yet.

Other people might get away (or at least seem to) with pushing aside their pain and never really dealing with it. You aren't one of these people. Your path to fulfillment is through making difficult decisions, sometimes ones where there really isn't a good option. Some of these decisions could affect other people as well. I see this as your heart existing in your head. So much compassion in tandem with a razor-sharp mind. Highly analytical, meticulous, maybe even fussy, combined with glowing warmth that can only be achieved by facing hardship.

There could be a significant male figure in your life who guides you, and you may not recognize the significance of his impact on your life until he's no longer in it. This might be someone you only know for a short period of time before parting ways. Maybe at the time of meeting them it's too overwhelming for you and it doesn't end so well, but the more you digest the relationship over time and think about what you learned from them, the deeper you understand the purity of this person, and the reasons why he navigates the world the way that he does. I think, going through hardship yourself and choosing to remain soft and gentle, you recognize this as a lesson you learned from this person. It's brave to continue believing in people. Also, it's possible to do it without being naive.

This pile knows the true meaning of unfairness. You know what it means to be made to feel selfish for taking care of yourself. You know what it means to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, to be going through immense difficulty behind the scenes and still getting through the days treating people with kindness. Yeah you just see and feel the pain in others, you sense their stories even if it's just a stranger. You probably walk away from getting coffee and wondering how the barista is handling their breakup even though that was your first encounter with them.

Pile 2: Phenomenon

So right off the bat, Chappel Roan's song Feminomenon might be of significance lol. Maybe that song you was on repeat for you this summer, or you are LGBTQ+, or in some way don't fit in with the norm. Chappel Roan is famous for her drag outfits and crazy makeup and big hair - you could be into style, fashion, hair/makeup. Or maybe you are wanting to get more into these things but don't know how? Maybe you are struggling with expressing yourself right now, and this is a recurring struggle you deal with. If you are struggling with it, I think it's because it's actually something you're really good at - I think you have a natural eye for fashion and art, it's just that you need to reconnect with this part of yourself, and that re connection process will help you get deeper and better with and at it.

Next to your Phenomenon oracle card I pulled the Nine of Cups, Ace of Cups, and the Page of Cups. So all water, you are definitely here to learn how to express your feelings. I think you often feel like sharing how you feel makes you self-centered or you're "making it all about you," even though it ironically helps your relationships because you connect with people better when you're emotionally honest with them.

I think currently you're at a pretty comfortable spot in life. You've worked really hard and have been very much in your earth energy - taking care of your body, keeping a clean home, focusing on consistency at work and in your self-care and discipline. You've worked really hard to get here, and you're finally learning how to give yourself credit for it.

However, I think it still feels like something is missing for you. Looking at your cards (from right to left), the Page of Cups is offering the Ace of Cups to the Nine of Cups. The cup you're looking for, the special sauce that you are missing right now, is connected with your inner child. I think while working on improving your earth energy has been wildly beneficial for you (maybe you're successful for your age, or just really good at keeping your shit together and running a sane life for yourself) you have lost a little bit of touch with your inner softy.

I think you're probably cringing at that too, a little bit lol. Like "man I don't have time to cry and play in my coloring book I gotta pack lunch for work tomorrow" hahahaha. But honestly, if someone has that mindset or thought process about playfulness and fun, they need that energy the most!! In your list of things to do over the weekend that keep your life tidy and chugging along, you are being called to add something wholesome and fun in there.

It's easy to get in the swing of daily living and going through the motions, and it's not wrong at all to pride yourself on your ability to keep a tidy ship. BUT lol that doesn't mean you have to lose out on some harmless chaos and unstructured fun times. You don't let yourself let your hair down as much as you could be. Obviously don't go out and go crazy and do something dangerous lol and if you're not ready to go clubbing every weekend you can start small! Maybe there's a bakery near you that you haven't tried with kick ass muffins, go try that place out. If you're really particular about cleaning your place, try cleaning it in a more 'chill' way if that makes sense lol. Try out letting go of intensity and a "I just need to get this done" attitude. Maybe that means the floors won't be as spotless after mopping than they usually are but hey, they're still clean right?

Yeah I think what's really coming through for this pile is letting going of perfection and holding yourself to unrealistic standards, so much of your power lies in fun, and not just fun but also facilitating fun. Lifting up the people around you. With the Ace of Cups in the middle of your spread, you guys are here to out pour to those around you. People are enchanted by you and think you live a charmed life, they are envious of your innocence, your lack of care for/about status and authority. It's refreshing (i mean, these are all cups cards lol) on multiple levels! You might not notice how your inner child lifts people up, and how just one conversation you have with someone leaves them feeling nourished after you walk away.

Pile 3: Vulnerability

Hey pile 3 welcome!

You guys picked the vulnerability oracle card and your tarot cards are the four of pentacles, the ace of wands, and the magician. This is the description for your oracle card:

"As the flower opens and offers itself, the butterfly says "yes." Opening and exposing ourselves to new possibility comes with risk, but also holds the potential for great reward. Be willing to share your gifts with the world, allowing the acceptance and recognition vulnerability can bring."

This one feels pretty damn straightforward haha, you guys are here to build literally any life that you want to. I am looking and these cards as a progression - the man in the four of pentacles seizes the ace of wands and becomes the magician. Literally he lets go of these four measly pentacles, grabs the magic wand, and become the magician he was always meant to become.

You guys have sooooo much power within you. Your manifesting skills are truly off the chart and it seems like right now you're not really sure what to do with this gift. I think you could be feeling overwhelmed by all the possibilities. You are probably the kind of person who has a lot of different interests, can feign commonality with just about anyone because you're smart and absorb knowledge like a sponge - so you have tidbits of information on a huge range of topics. Someone will bring up in conversation that their grandparents berry farm is suffering because of a disease or certain kind of pest in the area and you're like "oh yeah I've heard that those types of flies are invasive and it's like becoming a widespread problem" lmao.

You could be a gemini mars or north node - the tarot card associated with mars in gemini is the nine of swords - literally analysis paralysis is your guys' biggest obstacle. You have everything in your head, but you struggle to bring your creations to life. I wouldn't be surprised if you guys are some flavor of neurodivergent, maybe ADHD or on the autism spectrum. You are ahead of the times.

I think this pile is similar to pile one because I'm getting an ancestral element for you guys. I think the women in your family have packed on years of frustration because they were made to believe that they just can't build for themselves. The women in your family line have sat with huge creative potential but the fear they carried prevented them from being able to actually use it to birth their ideas into the real world. They saw their fathers and brothers and husbands go out into the world with so much confidence, maybe with less skill or more boring ideas, and create success for themselves. I think you should know that it was not all sunshine and roses for the men in your family - there was such a huge amount of pressure to achieve and earn and perform that they didn't even really get a chance to really choose what they wanted to do. They just knew that it was expected of them to do well and provide for their families.

But the women, ah there is so much rage honestly. You have the chance in this lifetime to channel not only your own creativity but that of your mother, her mother, her sisters, etc. I think when you create it's a full experience for you. Like it's not that you don't phone it in, it's that you can't. You can't make something and not be fully in it. I think this might be part of your blockage as well - you tell yourself that if something you make isn't perfect or exactly as you envisioned it in your head, then it was a waste of time. It wasn't. I think if you allow yourself to be messy and be a little more process-oriented, you can really get the ball rolling for yourself. And honestly probably process a lot of those packed on emotions from your family.

You are someone who can get quick results in things if you really put your mind to something. Right now it seems like your task is to sift through your daydreams, then after that you can start taking some little steps towards making something happen. Even if it's something tiny you do to get closer to a goal, it's still really important for you guys especially to really celebrate that. And really mean it when you celebrate! If you guys work a job you aren't crazy about to pay the bills like so many of us do, maybe you have been drained or just don't see how you have the time to make one of your interests something more than just an idea in your head.

This is going to be a process of re-parenting yourself in a way. If you belittle your accomplishments and progress towards the things you really want to bring into the world, they will slowly shrivel up. You wouldn't make fun of a kid for trying something new and not being amazing at it, so you can't do that with yourself. You deserve support and love on your journey, not only that but you need it! You have the power to create the space for yourself to thrive in, and then thrive in it! You guys are honestly like buzzing with electricity. I think sometimes you have so many ideas that you get confused and tired just thinking about all of them, and maybe you act out in frustration but your not even sure why your upset. There are parts of yourself that have not been given enough attention, and once you start letting them out in the light they can show you what they can help you do in this life.

I think too that getting more in touch with your sexuality will help with this process, getting more in your body and letting yourself feel sexy and sensual, really being in the moment with your body and then carrying that energy with you in your endeavors. Yeah let yourself be a horndog lol it will help you reach your goals

Best of luck pile 3, not that I think you need it hahaha

[thelightsandtheroses]

one: florida!!!!

Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout Word Count: 3.7k Notes: Please note I am not from Florida, or even the US, so there’s a degree of creative license here, What I know about firefighting probably comes from 9-1-1, other firefighter shows, or google so please don’t think this is gong to be an accurate depiction of the Florida FD for Frankie. It’s fic, babes, let’s let me be a little self-indulgent. This is a rewrite of my first fic which felt too fast, too angsty and not the story I wanted to tell for a concept I really loved. It’s seen some considerable changes since then while retaining several themes, but I am so excited to share this and particularly this version of Frankie who has been rotting my brain for months and months 🔥 🔥🫠

Series Masterlist | Next. | A03

Palm trees, beaches and viral memes. That’s what I’ve always associated with Florida. It never struck me as a potential place I would make my home. I thought I might vacation there one day perhaps; some time in a distant future when I had a real grown-up life and family and we would go to the theme parks, buy overpriced merchandise and fried food and take cheesy photos before flying or driving home.

It’s funny how things work out though, isn’t it?

I pull into the apartment block with trepidation.

This is the fourteenth apartment I’ve viewed this week. Fourteen. I thought the market back in Chicago was bad but this is a whole new hellscape, or maybe it was easier because I knew more people back then. College roommates turn into post-college roommates and your circle is fully formed. It means you have people when you need to find a new place, there’s a whisper network, friends of friends.

I don’t have that anymore.

I want it though. I miss it.

I think I miss it.

The advert says that this listing is for a single room and the apartment is occupied by a group of young professional women. It’s the best option I’ve come across yet in my browsing of online postings which has taken me through several levels of Dante’s inferno. Facebook is just one above Craigslist in the hierarchy of the internet hellscapes I’ve seen recently.  One guy asked for my shoe size and asked if I routinely wore high heels before I could view the apartment. Safe to say, that one went off the list extremely quickly. It was a shame though - that listing had a double room and balcony, but I think I can see why it’s been listed for over sixty days now.

I haven’t had a roommate since college and this whole process has been a soul-crushing exercise on my already fragile self esteem. I don’t think I can take much more of this.

I take a deep breath. I’ve got this. I will find a room so I can move out of Molly’s and do something, anything with my life. Anything that’s not just existing in this strange purgatory I’ve found myself in. I’m potentially placing too much importance on the apartment here, but it’s a symbol, an omen.

It’s a fresh start. A signal to the universe that I’m here, that I’m doing something.

I feel like everything else I’m hoping and dreaming of can’t even start unless I have an apartment, and I can’t afford my own apartment and start a business so I need to find a roommate.

Maybe this is finally the one.

“It was so bad, Benny,” I say, taking a glug of lukewarm beer. “It was like being in high school over again, but worse. Infinitely worse!”

“Worse?” Benny tilts his head as he asks the question, something that only heightens my association between him and golden retrievers.

“Yes, because I’m not sixteen with a promise it’ll get better when I ‘find my people’ in college. This sucks. What was I thinking? Clearly I wasn’t. Maybe I should have stayed …” I trail off awkwardly.

“You were thinking that Florida is the perfect place to start over, which it is, Daisy,” he replies confidently.

Benny and his brother, Will, have played a considerable part in my move here. They served with my half-brother Tom.

Tom died more than five years ago - I don’t really know much about how it happened, Tom and I weren’t particularly close. There was an age difference, I sometimes felt he didn’t want me as a sister. I was only a reminder of his own parents’ relationship breakdown after all. I wish I could say we had that sibling bond but we didn’t. It’s clear to me his real siblings were the men in his team - he was their brother.

After his death though, Will kept in touch with me. I wondered if he thought he needed to fill a gap from Tom, if there was a sense of responsibility there. Tom never called me though except for birthdays and Christmas. I haven’t told Will that though.

It’s been nice feeling like I have a big brother. The irony isn’t lost on me that I feel this the most once my actual big brother is dead.

Will encouraged me to move down here, as did Molly, Tom’s ex-wife. They said I needed a fresh start and maybe they’re right.

I can’t remember the last time I felt like me. I’m not even sure what that feels like now, who I’m supposed to be and who I am really.

Florida seems a good place for reinvention though, for something new. I’m closer to the beach, to weekends spent with my toes scrunched in the sand as I sip coffee and read books. Days spent with Benny and Will

“Hey Benny,” A voice calls as I hear the front door open.

“We’re in here.“

“You remember Frankie, right?” Benny asks casually. “Tom woulda called him Catfish?”

“Uh, sure.” I don’t but I won’t admit to that. I remember the name vaguely, but that’s all. Tom wasn’t big on the details of his life with me.

“You probably saw him at the wake last,” Benny adds.

Even if it hadn’t been four years ago since I last saw him, all I can remember of Tom’s funeral is a procession of strangers and the continual vibration of my work phone as I stood in a strange graveyard. That whole day was a stark reminder of the distance between us, that my own blood was a ghost to me even when he was alive. It bought me Molly, Tess and Will though.

Frankie walks in. He’s a little older than Benny but younger than Tom was. He’s all dark eyes and curls peeking out through a battered baseball cap; softly tanned skin and that smile … that smile is something. If he could bottle that up and sell it, I’m pretty sure he’d find a captive market.

“Frankie, you remember Daisy, right? She’s moved here,” Benny says. “She’s starting a coffee van.”

“Uh - yeah.” Frankie has no clue who I am, but his efforts to conceal that are admirable. “Now you mention it, Will might have said something about that. You’re uh, staying with Molly for now, right? You were in Boston before?” I nod, wondering what Will has exactly said to Frankie about my move. “A coffee van?”

“Eventually,” I add nervously, “It’s a whole process. So, I’m actually just temping for now while I get things sorted.” I have no idea why I’ve told him that, why I still want to introduce myself based on my career, on my outward accomplishments. I’m almost surprised I haven't tried to find an old business card in my pocket or referred him to my LinkedIn profile where it neatly lists all my employable skills and experience.

 Daisy is highly skilled in project management, board engagement, data analysis  and most of all completely falling apart all of the time, but she makes a mean slide deck. Plus, guess what, she’s open to work!

“Oh, right, cool.”

“Frankie works for the fire department. He’s a firefighter pilot now,” Benny says. “Out here making me look bad.”

“Aw, I keep telling you don’t need my job to do that, Benny.”

Benny laughs heartily and throws a cushion at Frankie who catches it with ease and a raised eyebrow.

“Well, that’s definitely cooler than paperwork and admin.”

“Not really,” Frankie says, “I mean, it’s not really cool if you know what I mean.”

“Oh,” you say with a groan, “that might be the most dad joke I’ve heard.”

“It’s a classic though,” he replies lightly. “You got a soda, Benny?”

“Fridge. Wait, I just had a brilliant idea,” Benny suddenly interjects with a grin. “I mean, I’m a genius.”

“Oh yeah?” Frankie asks, one eyebrow quirking up. “About soda?”

“No, no, no. You need a roommate, right?”

“Yes?” Frankie replies slowly with the seasoned reluctance of someone who knows exactly what Benny’s brilliant ideas usually result in.

“Daze needs a room, you need a solid roommate, voila!” Benny makes a complicated hand gesture and smiles widely.

It seems too simple, too obvious but despite the terrible apartment earlier, my heart races as I wonder what if Benny’s onto something.

“Benny, I’m sure Daisy would -”

“How soon is it available?” I ask.

“Uh, immediately. My last roommate moved in with his boyfriend, which is great for him, but I’ve been struggling to find anyone suitable for it since then.”

“Suitable?” Immediately flashbacks of the weird Craigslist ads come back to me, please don’t say Frankie is going to say something odd. “What do you mean, suitable?” I really hope Frankie isn’t actually the weird shoe size guy from Craigslist.

“I have a kid who stays with me regularly. I need someone I can trust, someone safe to be around him, and someone who’s not going to be a …”

“Frankie wanted to mandate a background check,” Benny interrupts, before raising his hands at Frankie’s expression. “I said I got it! Perhaps, if you interrogated people less though ….”

“I’m not gonna apologise for prioritising my kid.”

“So, do I need a background check to apply then?”

“Nah,” Benny says, “you’re Tom’s sister, right Frankie?”

There’s a comforting weight to his words. The conviction in his voice, the simple answer that takes it for granted that maybe I’m not one of them, but I’m adjacent at least. It feels unfamiliar. I’ve never been Tom’s sister, not to Tom at least.

I feel as though I’m wearing someone else’s skin, another identity, and it’s alien but comforting. It’s an identity I never knew I could wear. One I never even knew was an option.

“You’re actually considering this then?” Frankie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Well, yeah. Benny’s heard all about my nightmare of an apartment hunt so far… unless, I mean. If you don’t want to then that’s fine.”

“Alright Tom’s sister,” Frankie begins with a soft smile.

“Daisy.”

“Daisy. “I’ll send you the info. let me know whether you’re still interested then. No pressure.” His voice is honey smooth, low and there’s something else.

His eyes.

They’re kind. Soulful even.

“I’m interested,” I say without thinking. “I’m definitely interested.”

Of course life isn’t as simple as just being interested in the apartment and one magically falling into my hands. Frankie texts me the information which is sadly towards the top end of my truly pitiful budget but includes a double room, furnishings and the apartment has a balcony which in itself is a big reason enough to say yes. I instantly conjure up a romantic image of me sipping from a steaming mug of coffee in the mornings, watching the sunrise.

It’s farcical. I hate the sunrise, or at least being up at that time. I’m not a morning person at the best of times. 

Frankie says there’s a beach view from the balcony though … if you squint, lean one arm and twist at a very precise angle. It’s something he has advised he doesn’t recommend without exceptional health insurance though so that’s definitely off the table for now. He mentioned it’s close enough that the landlord said it was a coastal view but it’s clearly not really.

Texting him feels so easy - there’s a lightness to the conversation, even as we talk about something as serious as becoming roommates. It’s why I’ve agreed to this - the next step and the one that is now filling me with dread.

The coffee shop we decided to meet at is halfway between his place and Molly’s. I haven’t been here before but I mentally take notes of the roast, of the general ambience. The brownies look amazing - the perfect combination of a fudgy middles and the solid crackly top that immediately calls to me.

It’s a neutral space though, one where we can finally make a decision of am I becoming Frankie’s roommate or not.

I think I want to.

I really can’t take another week of Craigslist -especially after watching that true crime documentary last night.

I twist the empty sugar packet into a knot, only looking up as the doorbell chimes. I see Frankie immediately.

He’s wearing a baseball cap, dark hair curling out from underneath and the Florida FD hoodie he’s wearing looks particularly well worn, comfortable. I can almost imagine how it smells.

No. No. This is a roommate negotiation.

“Hey,” Frankie says as I stand up to greet him. I immediately panic - is this a hug situation, that feels too familiar, but a handshake feels like an awkward callback to my corporate days. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“Oh, you already ordered?” Frankie asks.

“Yeah, sorry, I got here a bit early. Overestimated the traffic. I haven’t been here long.” Frankie looks at my almost empty mug of coffee, cocking one eyebrow.

“No worries. Do you mind if I grab a drink though? Want another?”

“Oh no, I’m good, thanks.”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the counter and I sit down and watch him carefully. This is a test really, an opportunity to try and work out his personality further. Does he talk to the barista? Is he cold or insufferable? Is he rude? These are all qualities I should be able quickly establish in just a few moments. Mum always taught me to notice these things on a date, to tease out those basics in the early days. Not that it’s foolproof. Not always at least.

Frankie seems. pleasant though, laughing with the barista but there’s almost a shyness about him. I don’t get it. From how Benny described him - a pilot, a firefighter pilot no less, I would have expected him to be as extroverted as Benny.

Frankie’s a surprise though. There’s a quietness to him, a slow and careful evaluation in each glance, in how he takes in the cafe around us as he sits opposite me. He’s assessing everything too and it occurs to me that as much as I’ve set this meeting up to work out if I can live with him, he’s doing the exact same thing.

The people pleaser in me instantly calls to attention, ready to perform and be perfect, be liked. To succeed. Automatically I straighten my posture, try and remember my very best table manners. I prepare to perform.

“What’s your poison?” I ask, which is a phrase I never use and an immediate sign I need to shift out of performance mode.

“Just an Americano.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t approve?”

“no, I guess it’s fine. I mean, I would personally recommend a pour-over and filter coffee than a watered down espresso. Something like a V60 or a -”

“I see what Benny meant about the coffee truck.”

“I’m not judging!”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, only judging a tiny bit. Mostly I’m rambling. I’m just - I’ve never got the watered down espresso thing.”

“It’s got two extra shots in if that helps,” he confides with a smirk, “I was on shift yesterday.”

“Oh, we could have arranged this for later -”

“It’s fine. The shift wasn’t too bad, even got a few hours sleep!” Frankie empties sugar into his coffee and smiles up at me.

“How did you end up in the FD then? I don’t – I don’t remember it from before.”

Frankie pauses, twisting the empty sugar packet in his hands. The silence holds just long enough I worry I need to change the conversation before he speaks. “A couple of years ago I needed a change. It’s been good, much better than commercial helicopter flights for rich people.”

“Making a difference?”

“Trying to.” A ghost passes over his eyes. I immediately realise the link - Tom. His death. Was that the trigger for Frankie joining the fire department?

“Anyway, the apartment -” Frankie starts, reaching for his phone, “I took some new photos this morning.”

His wallpaper is him with a small boy. His son. I take in the wide toothy smile on his photo, the bright shine in his eyes and the same features I can see in Frankie, accompanied by a head full of brown curls.

“Felix,” Frankie says, a soft smile on his face.

“He looks like you.”

“Poor kid.”

“No, I mean - uh, how old is he?”

“Four and a half. He stays with me on alternate weekends, if I’m off shift, and sometimes in the week if his mom’s working late or something. A lot of it depends on my work patterns but that’s the general rule of thumb.” He wrings his hands together and I wonder what the story is there.

I have limited experience with children to say the least.

I’ve reached that point where half of my friends are parents, sharing photo after photo on their social media and speaking a whole new language. In contrast, the rest of my friends appear still mentally stuck in their early twenties party mindset. I’ve never been sure where I fit in with that; I’m definitely not a huge partier, but that sort of responsibility and commitment has filled me with anxiety. Maybe it’s my choice in friendships, in love.

I try not to think about it too much, the friendships left to dust over, the dates I was too scared to go on. I threw myself into my work instead because it felt safer somehow. I defined myself by my career and made that the only metric that matter.  I poured all of myself into the corporate world for all those years and it turns out I was naive. So naive. I actually thought they cared about me.

It’s hilarious in hindsight. Now I’m in Florida without even a leaving card to commend the efforts I put in. I’m a barely remembered spectre in the place I once thought I was indispensable in. A shameful secret swept under the rug. A never repeated name.

I can’t go back to that world again.

“Are you okay?” Frankie asks, concern creasing his brow. Great, five minutes into talking about becoming roommates and he already clearly thinks I’m disturbed.

“I’m fine, sorry, must have drifted away for a second.”

“Happens to us all,” he says lightly. “So, is that a problem?” Frankie folds his arms and I get the clear sense that he’s annoyed, that I’ve missed an important cue somewhere.

“Is what a problem?” I ask.

“Felix staying at the apartment, because sorry but it’s a non-negotiable”

“No, not at all. No, I just … I drifted away, like I said.”

“Right.”

Great, this is the first apartment that feels reasonable, and Frankie seems like a nice person and I’m wrecking it. Somehow at best, I’m managing to come across as scatty and someone who doesn’t listen, and a child hater at worst.

I need to get out of Molly’s. I need to make Florida work for me.

“I do that sometimes,” I say quietly, “It doesn’t mean I’m not listening, or anything. It’s just … it’s just something that happens. I don’t have a problem at all with Felix or …. it’s your home, Frankie.”

He pauses. “If you take the room, it’s yours too though.”

“And I get why you’re being careful about who takes the room because of that. Look, I can’t promise I won’t secretly judge your coffee choices, or leave coffee grounds everywhere, or watch really terrible TV from time to time, but I …”

“You don’t have to explain. I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do.” Frankie smiles. “So, you’re still interested in the room then? You really wanna do this? I thought Benny might be putting you up to this and I won’t be offended if you don’t want to live with some random guy.”

“Benny keeps reminding me you’re not though, are you?”

Frankie shrugs and looks away, something flashing over his eyes briefly that feels a little haunted.

Since moving back to Florida, I’ve realised that, at least for Benny and Will, Tom’s death is still an open wound even now. It makes me feel worse sometimes because Will was so kind to me after the funeral, so keen to ensure I knew they’d be there if I needed them, that I could rely on them in Tom’s absence and I didn’t know how to say I’d never been able to rely on Tom. My brother spent his life a half-stranger to me and I feel like a fraud pretending we were real siblings.  In five and a half years, the Millers and my brother’s ex-wife have been more of a family to me than Tom ever was.

“It’s okay,” Frankie says, “I’m sure you’ve got far better roommate options.”

“I actually really don’t. One guy asked for foot pics, and these women kind of judged me because I wasn’t corporate enough anymore, so I don’t have a wealth of better options.”

Frankie frowns slightly.

“It’s a brutal market. And your place looks… nice and you seem like you wouldn’t ask for -”

“Some guy really asked for that?”

“I blocked him, it’s fine. It’s the internet, Frankie.”

“Sometimes I fucking hate that thing.”

“Yeah, but I like being able to shop in my pyjamas.”

Frankie laughs. “Okay, fair point. So, Daisy, do you want the room? ‘Cause if you do, it’s yours.”

My heart races. The room is mine? It’s not just that I’ll be escaping from feeling like a perennial thorn in Molly’s life, but it’s a beginning. Finally I have the chance to make something here, to be Daisy 2.0 and leave the corporate burnt out husk of my old self in the rearview mirror.

“You don’t have some weird neighbour who plays the bagpipes at 3am?”

“No, I don’t have one of those. It’s a normal building.”

“Good, just wanted to check. Okay then, yeah, I think I do. Want the room that is.”

“Great. I’ll get the agreement emailed over to you and we’ll go from there.”

“This is going to be good”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

I think this might be the handshake part.

Tag List

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[mochinomnoms]

*slides in* PTM!Silver you say? Please elaborate! I love Silver. He's so handsome! And his arms! The sprites don't do him justice, and i will forever be bitter about it. And they way his face can go from j gentle smile to his intense angry face. I feel like his mind would be mostly sweet daydreams. Hanging out in the woods with his head in your lap. Maybe even dancing in the forest surrounded by his animal friend (like in sleeping beauty when Aurora met Prince Philip) Or! Since he mentions that the Prefect might have some talent with swords. He daydreams about showing them the basics. Hands lingering on theirs while they grip their sword. helping them correct their form as an excuse to hold them close! He has such a serious face. But he fantasized cute little outings.

Any lewed thoughts, I think, would be more like wet(day) dreams. Maybe you were taking a nap with him, and He's was just dozing off thinking how pretty you were. How nice your voice sounds. It's soothing to him. And the way you just sighed and stretched. Now, his mind is else where.

He thinks how beautiful you'd be while he gently rocks into you. Would you stroke his hair like when he naps on your lap? Would you sigh and groan like when you woke up from a nap together? Would you kiss him when youre close to your release and tighten your legs around his waist when he cums in you- he snaps awake. He shouldn't be having such thoughts to his Lord's friend. To His friend. That would be disrespectful. While he was in turmoil beside you, you are desperately trying to face away from him and hope he doesn't see your flustered face. I'm sorry I forgot how obsessed i am with Silver >~<

Refering to this post

I didn't have too much interest in Silver when I started writing PTM, so while he was one of the last options for the fic (mostly because he fit the personality of the manga lead I took inspiration from) I kinda tossed him out right away cause Jade was more appealing and funnier.

I think if I had written it with Silver, your thoughts here would probably match up! He is a lot softer to me so i would imagine his thoughts would be soft when about you as well. I think the drama/conflict in this would be very different though! In Jade's case, it's such a remarkable difference between his personality and thoughts that it sends you into a loop! It's embarrassing (and flattering, though you won't admit it)! So you don't want to address that, and deny it, which only makes Jade want to chase you more!

In Silver's case, since PTM would be the next school year, the conflict comes from Silver not wanting to confess to his Lord's friend, someone the prince holds near and dear. What if he confesses and you reject him and distance yourself from him, will you distance yourself from the others as well, from Malleus? It's a bit irrational, he has to admit, but you are a kind and silly human who won the affections of the Briar Prince, and he is just a knight. What if Malleus were to invite you to his court? If you were to become a noble or diplomate or something similar for Malleus, you couldn't possibly be seen with some knight, can you?

Overall, I think Silver's version of PTM would've been a lot more angsty than Jade's, which does have it's own appeal!

[rin-hanarin]

I realized that I've never addressed the elephant in Lucanis's room, also known as his romance plot, as a "Had been delusional about him for months before release" individual, so here's a surprisingly long rant/summary of how I felt about it in the process of playing the game.

As a Rook de Riva player, I obviously loved "Coffee with the Crows": we met Illario, joked about haha three Crows talking about nothing, talked business, Rook and Lucanis had a nice moment getting to know each other better outside of being teammates, Rook de Riva's background was acknowledged again, it really felt like a nice bonding moment, right?

Thennn a whole lot of nothing happens during any of the conversations between them, huh. Lucanis doesn't acknowledge flirting, which is fine, take your time bud, you'll get there; you keep pushing being supportive, he ignores you, you deal with his personal stuff for him one (1) time, and in my case he then proceeds to ignore Rook for 10+ hours of pure game time while busy talking to Neve at every opportunity until I finally get one (1) dialogue option to "express romantic interest in Lucanis".

And let me express my honest innermost feelings on the matter:

Not only did it feel like Lucanis genuinely couldn't care less about Rook even as a friend, it also felt like Rook was forcing Lucanis into something he simply wasn't interested in and that we were just getting in the way of his relationship with Neve. It was genuinely unpleasant to experience in a videogame that is supposed to be wish fulfillment and whatnot, and let me tell you, it was especially jarring because Dragon Age games also have a tendency of occasionally making you feel like the most special little protagonist known to Thedas, at the very least to your companions who you're supposedly building bonds with.

I loved hangout events in this game, too, I was so happy to just have these conversations about whatever with companions, have these little one-on-one moments with them that genuinely felt like walks with friends (especially with my bro my bestie my homie Davrin), and with Lucanis it started and ended with the coffee date. His fears and doubts about Rook later are never addressed, and lol lmao even, yeah, why would they be, when it feels like he barely acknowledges Rook exists outside of accompanying him to deal with his problems, none of which need Rook there? There's no reason outside of gameplay for him to ask Rook and not, say, his favorite Neve he talks about everything to? Somehow a lot of times when I hoped for any sort of dialogue with him, I was met with him talking about something very personal like his current feelings about Illario to Neve, like, isn't Rook supposed to know anything about anything, or are we just his convenient weird coworker he sometimes asks favours from?

We persevere though and keep supporting Lucanis, and can you take a wild guess what was waiting for me after like 40 hours of the game and after the infamous "kabedon assassin style" scene? Yeah bro, Lucanis just happened to talk to Neve. I wish I was making this shit up. My coping strategy was to come up with an entire jealousy subplot for my Rook because if I have to feel like I'm in the shittiest unrequited situationship of a triangular shape, I might as well do it on my own terms, right? It feels petty and stupid because as a player I like Neve, too, she's one of the coolest (no pun intended) characters, but as Rook, and Rook de Riva making an obvious choice especially? Yeah, let's just say this relationship fucking sucked for a while.

So after many trials and tribulations we're finally back with Inner Demons, and yeah, Neve is there again, I couldn't even give a shit at that point, and I'll be real here, the locking in didn't feel like we went through angsty slowburn or that we earned Lucanis' trust. Remember DA2's Fenris situation? Because I suddenly did, and surely one of many, many Neve banters I had to eavesdrop on could be sacrificed to have one or two banters that acknowledged Lucanis's anything towards Rook at all?

Also, Spite? Spite seemingly likes Rook more than Lucanis does. In between "It's so over" and "We're so back" in the Fade Ossuary it feels like somehow Rook gets more bonding time with Spite, which is kinda crazy to me.

We are so back though! As I mentioned, I was a "delusional before release" individual, I am perfectly capable of filling the gaps and extrapolating meaning from implications, and here's where one of the most infuriating things is: the rest of the romance is good, too! I can write whatever the hell I want between the beginning and the end of it, but like, why should I? How should I go about it, when in my game I was under the impression that Lucanis would rather just spend time with anyone other than Rook for seemingly no reason in particular, because there's simply nothing there? The fact that none of my pre-release ideas or comics even necessarily contradict anything about Lucanis or his romance as it is now is more telling than impressive honestly.

So where do I land with this exactly? Well, mostly in the glorious Fanon Land where I've been making my silly comics the whole time anyway. The highs are high, I love what they did at the end and how stable, protective and devoted Lucanis is, but the lows made me salty as shit and I wish I didn't have to feel that way to begin with. I wish I didn't have to connect the dots and joke about how badly Lucanis sucks at this and "Let's go girl give us nothing." And yes, I know about writer lay-offs, rewrites, restarts, etc etc, and it's a miracle that this game came out at all, but it hardly matters when you're just trying to do the good old datesim part of a Dragon Age game and end up feeling like a third wheel while trying very hard to get anything out of the character you're interested in.

[dj-of-the-coven]

How to Burn Your Own CDs - a guide for Windows users

Are you--yes, you!--tired of paying money to stupid shit like spotify for your music? Do you hate the way that the music industry takes almost all the profit that bands make through streaming and leaves them with pennies? Have you ever wanted to fire up that old CD-Radio in the corner of your bedroom, only to be stopped because all you have on CD is Weezer's blue album and a copy of Kidz Bop 16 that you don't remember buying? Well this guide just might be for you!

Materials you'll need:

A computer. Can't do it without this one.

A CD drive. It can be internal or external, but you'll need one either way. You can find them at Office Depot for fairly cheap and I've heard that some Walmarts carry them.

A pack of CD-Rs. CD-Rs, or CD Recordables, come in packs of 20, 50, or 100. A proper 100-pack should cost you no more than $30, so unless there's some special shortage in your area, don't buy from anywhere selling them at a markup. CD blanks are literally 50c a piece.

CD cases. Sold wherever CD-Rs are, but you can also find these at thrift stores pretty easily.

A sharpie or some kind of permanent marker

Software you'll need:

Jdownloader. You can acquire mp3s through Bandcamp if you're dedicated to righteousness, but for everyone else, install jdownloader or some other kind of open-source download program. I will be proceeding as if you have jdownloader available.

Windows media player. This should open automatically when you insert a CD-R into your CD drive.

Fre:ac audio converter. This is only for the occasion that you encounter OPUS or mp4a files that cannot be interpreted by your CD player.

Note: If you're very determined not to download software onto your computer, you can use free youtube downloaders and audio converters, but these are subject to viruses and other issues such as download speed. I will be proceeding as if you have the programs I listed.

The process:

Decide what you want to burn--anything goes, but keep in mind the time limit on your CD-Rs. Most will record 90 minutes or less.

Open jdownloader, switch to the linkgrabber tab, then paste youtube links in any order until you have all the music you want. I'd personally recommend doing it song-by-song instead of a full album stream, because a massive file will require a lot of work to separate back into searchable tracks.

De-select all files except audio on the right-hand side options menu.

Make a folder inside the music folder of your laptop and label it with the name of your mix CD.

In the properties tab of each song on jdownloader, change the destination folder to the folder you've just created.

Hit "start all downloads".

Once finished, open each folder. If everything is an .mp3 or a .wav, skip the next 2 steps.

Open Fre:ac audio converter to convert all audio files that aren't .mp3 or .wav into .mp3 or .wav.

Drop the converted files next to the unconverted files in your folder. If you wish, you can delete the originals to make the folder easier to browse.

Put your blank CD-R into the CD drive. If external, plug in your CD drive first or the tray will refuse to open.

Windows media player will open automatically. On the right-hand side, you will see the tracklist of your CD-R (which should be blank). On the left, you will see the audio that your computer is able to find in the music folder. Put your selected tracks IN ORDER onto the tracklist.

Listen to the beginning and ending of each track to make sure there isn't a significant time gap. This also prevents accidentally burning a youtuber's stupid outro if you missed it before.

When satisfied, hit "start burn".

On an external drive, the CD tray will open upon completion. You can reinsert it to ensure that the burning went smoothly.

Once satisfied, remove the CD from your drive. With your sharpie or permanent marker, write the name of the album on the front, then store safely inside a CD case.

you did it👍

Ask me if you run into any issues.

Legal disclaimer: this guide is purely for educational purposes and I do not admit to or take responsibility for any piracy committed using the instructions given.

Illegal disclaimer: cops suck my dick

[blurreynights]

Thank you for this, it made me reflect a bit deeper about my own social circles back home in Germany.

Firstly, it's so nice and relieving to hear your experiences about making friends in Finland. As someone who is here as an exchange student as well but considers moving back for further education and possibly living here permanently, this is something I really think about a lot. My time here is limited for now and I had to split my time evenly between all the different people I met: exchange, international and finnish students, so I haven't been able to make a lot of close friends. But the people I interacted with (from Finland, not international/exchange students) were always very kind and open. I got the same vibe as you were describing.

I think for German friendships, it really depends on the people you meet and the circles you are in. I had a really easy time, but I am German speaking, I think the language really does make a difference there. I personally have no issues with only talking in english with some friends, and I know others who don't, but I can imagine in some other contexts and cities that are not as international as mine, it can be really difficult. Most of my international friends do have a hard time making German friends other than me, and the language is the main barrier.

I think for meeting people from a certain country while traveling abroad, it's much easier for both countries, because you will naturally meet the more outgoing and open-minded people instead of those who are only interacting with their friend circle. But in general I do agree, while Finns might be a bit more reserved, I have yet to meet someone who excludes me or isn't really kind upon meeting them.

I kind of wish I had avoided international students more from the start, but I saw it as my only option to not be completely alone here while exploring new things around me. I don't regret it and I like the people around me, but most of them are exchange students as well. I made mental notes of what I will be doing differently when coming back (I really hope I can) and the things I took away from this brief period are all immensely positive. How I experience people here treating their friendships is very thoughtful, and it gives me hope if I should decide to uproot my life in Germany.

I think the biggest culture shock I experienced in Finland so far is around friendships, as well as the area where I learned a lot of valuable things about myself. I might not be entirely right about this as I've only been here for a short time, but those are my main take-aways:

(under the cut to not block ur tags w my english rambling)

Trying to build real friendships takes time, much longer than in my home country. It is relatively easy to get in contact with Germans in my experience, especially if you live in a bigger city and speak the language, ESPECIALLY if you are a student and just starting out in a new phase of your life. You will naturally hang out frequently if you match well and spend a lot of time together. It might take a few meetings before people will invite u to their home, but generally there's not much distance as soon as the ice is broken.

Here I feel like people are much slower and more reluctant to open up. But that doesn't equal rejection, it's simply a slower process and you will still be able to tell the difference between being rejected and being on the path of friendship. In Germany, it's usually a lot more fast paced and there is a small window you have to catch to get into tight friendgroups. If you miss it, no chance of ever going back, vibe gone chance gone. Also people who might have found you interesting could lose interest if you wait for too long (meaning usually a month or so) to get back to them.

I actually realized that this way of socializing stresses me tf out. I much prefer a more laid back approach where you can get to know each other without time limitations (of course prerequisite is that you have the time). It is a much more sustainable, thoughtful and respectful approach to someone elses time. You're not treated as disposable, but rather as a person someone actively chooses to get to know.

Likewise, if people feel like they either do not vibe with you or if they already have a very busy social life or life in general, they will let you know and don't pretend to have time or like you. This was quite a new thing to me and felt a bit cold, but I actually really appreciate it now, as it's saving you from stressful, draining interpersonal connections. It also made me respect some people immensely, because they know their own self worth and boundaries quite well.

It made me reflect upon my tendency to be a people pleaser, and the strong yearning I have to treat my own relationships the same way as I've experienced it here. I've grown so tired of superficial connections that are placeholders for true, fulfilling friendships. I used to think being lonely was the worst thing in the world. It kind of is still awful, but what's worse is being surrounded by a bunch of people you don't really click with or can rely on, which leaves you lonely as well. I do think letting go of this is something that will slowly seep over into my own life, as it is so freeing.

I also intend on staying, or rather coming back when I've finished up all my business back in Germany (I am not really rooted to the city I live in). People who I've told about this recent development were very worried if I would be able to be happy in a country that is (generally) much more reserved when it comes to social interaction, as I need social interaction regularly. I don't really think it's that big of an issue, as I think I can balance out people's passive approach with my more active one in the beginning. I have a high social battery, so I'm fine with interacting with a few more people, before people get truly comfortable to hang out on the regular. Yet I also prefer quality interactions over a bunch of small talk meetups I don't care about. I also still have my core friends who I talk to regularly on the phone, and this has been a tradition for years already before I came here.

What I am immensely struggling with right now is trying to make sense of all the connections I made in the past 10 years. This is the 6th city I lived in the last decade, and the 8th move. All my relationships feel so spread out and scattered. I am holding on to some solely because those people were there when I moved somewhere new and I didn't have anyone else. Like back in school, when I was friends with people because they were the only ones there. It's all a bit confusing and painful right now, as my values and perspectives are changing. I think there are a lot of people moving from the friends to acquaintance category right now. I'm completely redefining friendships for me at the moment.

[wonderfull-star]

I so wish more people would talk about Hazel and Dev reuniting in season 2. And how she, Winn and Jasmine try to mend fences with Dev again. And how the four of them become a team, getting into various adventures. It would be great if in one episode Dev was the one who saved everyone. It would be also great for his redemption arc. I don’t know, but I just don’t see Peri and Dev getting back together. At least not this early. I’m sure after the final episode Peri will be thinking clearly about something else. That is, about how this job wasn’t for him after all and he’ll try to find something different. And the fact that Dev stays with Dale isn’t such a tragedy as some people describe in fanfiction. Dale is certainly a bad father, but not to the point where it would threaten Dev. So to think that after the finale Peri will worry about Dev when his career (and even life) is going downhill is pretty stupid. Well, yes, he is now (f)unemployed ✨Who else to think about if not Dev 😒

I think that Hazel, her family and friends will be given more attention. Hazel will not make such big wishes for a while, but only certain small needs. While Cosmo and Wanda will spend more time at home. Perhaps we will even be shown more of what the house itself looks like, as well as what the other rooms look like. Probably there will even be a separate episode about this, where Hazel and her friends decide to explore Cosmo and Wanda’s house, discovering more and more secrets. So I think that at least at the beginning of the 2nd season Peri will not have much screen time. Perhaps we will be shown time with him for a few seconds and only by the 5th-10th episode he may be given his screen time (possibly related to his problem with choosing a career). There is also an option that until the middle of the 2nd season Peri will "disappear" in order to show him later at the most unexpected moment. So that everyone has intrigue.

For me, this whole "Dev and Peri reunion" thing is way overrated. Fanfics mostly only include this topic and have become painfully monotonous. And that's not even counting the typical cliches many give to characters that sometimes aren't even in the show itself. If you take only such fanfics, then usually there are: "Dale is a bad person and a bad father" - "Peri is of course the only one who understands this and tries to find a way to help Dev" - "Dev is rude and cold most of the time" - "Peri follows Dev like a tail" - "Later, Dev notices Peri's efforts and apologizes to him” - “Good ending”.

I have nothing against these fanfics and especially those who wrote them. I'm just wondering why so many people write mainly on this topic. And I cited the main cliche from what I once read before (of course, I will not read ALL such fanfics. Since I don’t like fanfics on this topic anymore).

That's why I SO want Hazel and Dev to reunite. Dev still needs to recover from what happened. He might not even go to school for a while. And if Dev does come to school one day, Hazel will probably be the first one to interact with him (as a parallel to episode 1 of season 1). I imagine how after everything that happened, Dev will become more quiet and withdrawn. And Hazel will be the one who will try to improve his condition over time by starting to be friends with him like they used to be. And over time, Winn and Jasmine will start to be friends with Dev too.

[theconstantsidekick]

Everybody Loves A Clown

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x BestFriend!Reader

Genre: fluff covered angst

Summary: John died a week ago, and Dean's been weird. Sam's been up his ass about it but it finally comes to a head when Y/n decides to talk to him about the whole thing.

a/n: it has an open ending but i can write more if y'all eat this up

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of smoking, romanticisation of smoking, a lot of that yes, sorry. Don't smoke kids

“You were right,” Sam admits.

“About what?” Dean asks from where he stands over the Impala, wrench in hand.

“About me and Dad,” Sam answers with red eyes and a crack in his voice. “I’m sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I’m sorry that I spent most of my life angry with him. I mean, for all I know he died thinking that I hate him.” He pauses. “So, you’re right. What I’m doing right now, it’s too little… It’s too late.” His lips tremble. There’s a self-deprecating smile on his lips as he continues, “I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I’m not all-right. Not at all.” There’s tears in his eyes now as he stares directly at Dean. “But neither are you. That much I know.” He waits for a second, seeing if Dean might answer, and still knowing that he won’t. “I’ll let you get back to work.” With that he walks off.

Dean doesn’t know what to… do.

He fidgets.

He paces and fidgets.

He clenches his jaw hard enough for it to hurt and then he paces and fidgets some more. 

Until his eyes fall on her.

“The fuck do you want?” He asks her.

In turn for his crude tone and cruder words, he is given half a smile. “Nothing,” she tells him.

“Then what the hell are you doin’ here?” He bites back. 

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch away at his harshness. No, she just smiles wider. 

She gets to her feet from where she was sitting on the steps of the shed behind them and walks over to Dean. She pulls something out of her pocket as she asks, “Asking, if you want a cigarette?”

The lack of pretence throws Dean off completely. “What?” is all that he can bring himself to say.

She shrugs, shaking the pack of menthols in her hands. “You want one?”

Dean, again, is met with the curiously unsolvable puzzle that is Y/N and left struck. “I didn’t know you smoked?” It’s a stupid thing to say, all things considered. But the fact that the answer is stupider consoles him some.

“I don’t!” she exclaims, a little too defensive to be God's honest truth. She pulls one cigarette out of the box. “Do you want one or not?” She throws the box at him. 

Dean catches it on reflex. 

“Fuckin’ menthols,” Dean curses looking at the box, but pulls one out for himself all the same. 

“Might make your swimmers less effective,” she says a little too easily as she lights his cigarette, “but they’re a certified cure to sadness.” She smiles, lighting her own. And standing this close, with the flame from the lighter painting her all shades of yellow, Dean has to physically pull himself away. He has to will himself to take a step back and catch his breath. He gulps and takes a drag. He is clenching his jaw again.

“You should mind what you’re sayin’ while lighting a guy’s cigarette. Talking about my ‘swimmers’ when you’re an inch away from my face?” He shakes his head. “Another guy might take it the wrong way.”

“Or the right way,” she mutters, so jumbled and wrong, Dean’s not even sure he heard it correctly.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” she dismisses him off handedly, a little too easily. 

He decides to let it pass, because again, he’s not sure he heard it right. And if he did, he’s not sure he has the mental wherewithal to be able to deal with that implication. So, he lets it pass. 

Besides, she doesn’t really give him any other option. “You remember how Sam was when Jess died last year?”

“It was last fucking year, yes! ‘Course I remember it,” Dean throws back, exhaling smoke out as he speaks.

She nods, “And?”

He knows what she’s getting at. “Sam was a mess,” he answers the unasked question. “I’m not like that.”

“That’s precisely the point I’m trying to make,” she states, taking a drag. “Not the second half, the first. Sam deals with emotions very openly. He… He lets himself fall apart and crumble. That’s what he’s gonna do now. He’s gonna get sad and he’s going to try and do things that John would have wanted him to do when he was alive. He is going to feel guilty and he is going to be a mess… because he deals with death, like he deals with everything else. He’s not emotionally constipated like you are. He’s normal…” She shakes her head slowly from side to side, reconsidering her words. “Or well, as normal as anyone in this line of work can be.”

Dean takes another puff. “Well, does he have to drag me into it?”

“Yes!” She answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And it fucking isn’t. “Why?!”

“Because he isn’t used to this.”

“What? Death? We just established that—”

She shakes her head at him like he’s being difficult for the sake of it… Maybe he is, but it’s not fair for her to be able to read him that easily. She cuts him off then, with, “No. He’s not used to you being like this.” And the words hit him hard. She must see it too because then she pauses and brings the cigarette to her lips and takes a long drag. “He’s used to the flirty, cocky Dean, who’s an overall dickhead.” When she exhales the smoke, it’s thick and white. Don’t smoke, my ass, Dean thinks to himself. “He’s going to ask you if you need something. He’s going to try to make you feel better and he’s going to keep checking up on you, because he has never seen you—his big brother—bereft before.”

And fuck, if she isn’t talking complete and utter sense. 

He runs a tired hand over his face, cigarette clipped between the index and the middle finger. “And what, you have?”

He’s not very good at people assessing him and his brother emotionally so accurately, okay? He needs to retaliate.

“No,” she replies easily with a smile. “When your mom passed away you were too young, and with everything that followed, I’m not even sure you had the opportunity to deal with it. This might as well be your first time dealing with loss.”

He clicks his tongue and raises his brows briefly in semi-agreement. And having been assess accurately once again, “Well, isn’t that just fucked?”

She nods. “It is.” She brings the cigarette to her lips. “But at least you’ve got me.”

He laughs. 

It’s kind of cruel that he does and he knows it.

But he laughs, because what the fucking hell?

And again, he’s fully aware of his cruelty in this moment and ready for the repercussions. 

What he isn’t ready for is to look at her and see her wearing a smile instead of a hurt look on her face.

“You think you’re gonna save me, sweetheart?” He retorts, adding to his asshole-ry.

She shrugs. “I don’t think I’m meant to save you, Dean,” she says, all too politely while taking a puff from the cigarette. “I just meant…” she looks at him. “I know what you’re going through.”

“No, you fucking don’t.” His words are harsh and cold and painful and mean.

You’ll break her, he thinks. You’ll break her and it’ll hurt worse than anything ever could.

But she doesn’t seem to be breaking. “Your dad died ‘cause of a demon and you feel responsible for it—”

“I don’t feel responsible for it, I am responsible for it. He died to save my life. It was supposed to be me who you salt and burned, not him! It was me who was supposed to be dead, not him!” And he’ll carry that weight with him for the rest of his fucking life. “You have no fucking idea what I’m going through.”

Her eyes are locked to his as she counters without hesitation. “My brother died because of a demon and I feel responsible for it.”

Dean can do nothing but close his eyes and yell out in frustration, “It’s not the same!”

“Isn’t it?” she bites back, standing straight and unmoving in the face of Dean’s rage. She doesn’t let him answer. “It was supposed to be my job. I was supposed to be the one who got possessed by a demon and driven around like a meat-suit. I was supposed to be the one who died in a freakin’ basement like a rat. It was my job, Dean. I was the first call, the second and the third… But I just decided to ignore it. But he didn’t… ‘Cause he’s nicer than I am…” She winces, looking away. She looks hurt for the first time since they began this conversation. And it seems she’d done it to herself. Because then she corrects, “Was nicer…” She takes another drag from her cigarette. “So, fuck you. But I know what you’re going through.”

He bites his lips.

Then he lets his head fall.

Because as much as he’d like to fight her on this, he can’t. 

She’s right… as usual.

He doesn’t know what to say to any of that so he stays quiet. Moreover, he thinks he’s kinda supposed to. Because she doesn’t swear often, even less so at him. So yeah, zipping it might be the right call here.

She takes charge then, as he begins pacing and smoking once more. “This might be your first go around at grief. Sam’s second. But, for once, I’m the season player.” 

When he turns to look at her, she’s smiling.

“Does that mean you’re gonna keep fucking smiling at me like that?” He retaliates, again. He’s already told you the logic behind that one.

“Sorry,” she holds up her hands in surrender. “I don’t mean to. I’m not smiling at you—not really.” She smiles again. “It’s just… It’s just that look on your face. I’ve seen it before.”

“I thought we just established you’ve never seen me like this before?”

“No, not on you,” she clarifies.

“Then?”

“In the mirror,” she tells him honestly. “Every morning for the last three years.”

Fuck him. Fuck this. And fuck everything.

A part of him, a selfless and kind part of him wishes she didn’t get him, wishes she’d rather be hurt at his words than look at him with so much understanding.

But another part of him, the selfish and unkind part of him, is comforted by the fact that at least someone does, in fact, get him. Even more so, he’s comforted by the fact that it’s her.

“So, take it from someone with experience,” she begins then, breaking him out of his mind numbing miserable thoughts. “You’re gonna wanna explode. You’re gonna wanna break something.”

“You got a cure for that, oh experienced one?”

She smiles again. “Yeah, break it.”

“What??”

She shrugs all too easily, taking another drag. “If you can find something you can break, that won’t hurt anyone, that you could ideally fix, then yeah! Break it.”

He stops pacing to look at her and cocks her head. “Will it make me feel better?” He is genuinely curious.

She outright laughs at him then, “No!” She brings her foot up and butt the cigarette on the back of her boot, sending embers falling to the ground like fireworks. “Nothing ever will…” She looks back at him, still smiling, “But it'll help.”

Dean sighs. 

He nods.

And then he throws the cigarette to the ground, steps on it and then walks over to the side. He picks up a crowbar, and then he walks back to the Impala. He grips the crowbar tighter and then he smashes the window. 

Then he starts slamming it into the trunk, over and over and over and over again. It clatters to the ground. 

He keeps at it till there’s a hole in the metal near as big as the one in his heart. 

And when he’s done, he lets the crowbar fall to the ground and pulls the packet of smokes out of his pocket. He grabs a cigarette and places it right between his lips. When he looks up, she’s close to him again, lighter in hand.

She looks at him and he looks at her.

Then she lights his cigarette. “How’d it feel?”

“It didn’t make me feel any better,” he replies, handing her the packet back to her when she smiles at him. “But it helped.”

She nods, and takes the entire packet to her lips, with her teeth she pulls one cigarette out and then lights it, pocketing the packet and lighter in one go. “Look, I know you… You don’t know how to deal with this, and as much as I want to, I can’t really help you with it either but unlike me, Sam’s not gonna get it.”

“I know,” he tells her. Because he knows that his brother means well, but he has a tendency of being too in your face about it. 

She hums in agreement, as if hearing her thoughts. And fuck, if he’s to go by her track record, maybe she can. “You’re gonna wanna get mad, go crazy and lash out. So… I’m suggesting that you do that with me, instead of him.” Her eyes are too fucking kind as she adds, “If you want to get mad, go crazy and lash out—lash out at me, get mad at me.”

Dean can’t fucking breathe.

“Why?” he asks.

“‘Cause he’s grieving too.”

“That the only reason?” he asks, hoping for… well, you know what he’s hoping for. You’re his inner monologue.

She tilts her head with a sweet smile. “You gotta mind what you’re saying, Winchester. Being emotionally vulnerable when you’re an inch away from my face? Another woman might take it the wrong way.”

He can’t help himself.

He snorts.

“Or the right way,” he says then with a smile of his own. 

And fuck it all, her face turns red at the realisation that he’d heard her. 

He loves it so fucking much that he’s not even bummed about her taking a step away from him.

“Asshole,” she curses him, but her heart’s not in it.

“I’ve got one condition though,” he says and watches confusion break onto her face. “For lashing out at you instead of Sam.”

She shakes her head fondly, at his wording. “What is it?”

“You promise to do the same.” It’s the kindest thing he can offer her. His misery, in exchange for hers.

She chuckles at that. Morbid as it may be, their sense of humor was always on par with each other. “Sure,” she says. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

He raises his hand, cigarette still wedged between his fingers, “Shake on it?”

Apparently, that’s the wrong thing to say ‘cause then she makes a disgusted face like the hand he’s offered is covered in snot. 

Slapping it away, she throws the smoke in her hands away and she steps closer. And then hugs him. 

The action catches Dean off-guard. 

It takes a second for his brain and his heart to have a meeting and catch up with each other. And then finally his brain sends the signal out for his to hands drop the cigarette and wrap around her. 

Probably encouraged by him hugging her back, her grip on him tightens. And fuck if that doesn’t thaw Dean’s cold, broken, blackened heart. He happily does the same, snuggling his face into her neck and breathing her in.

They stay like that for a bit, until Dean realises she’s waiting on him, letting him have his fill.

Reluctantly, eventually, Dean lets her go. 

When he does, if she can spot his misty eyes, she doesn’t mention it. 

Instead she says, “Now, hand me the crowbar.”

“Huh?”

“What, you think I don’t wanna break shit?”

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock — Without Me

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 3.9k Warning : Angst as requested but with fluff ending. Insecurity. Miscommunication/Misunderstanding. Synopsis : She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. Notes : this fic was a request. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

It was never easy.

No matter how many years they've spent together, the countless dates they went to, and the umpteen charming moments they've shared, dating Matt Murdock was never easy still.

Lord knows just how hard she tries to turn it off. To stop her mind from wandering to the dark places and to not think of the worst possible scenarios whenever the slightest inconvenience happens. She's tried her best, truly she has, to be a little more nonchalant whenever it comes to him, but it proved to be an impossible task to do. Perhaps when you care about someone a little too much than needed, the chance of keeping one's self collected inevitably becomes impossible.

Foggy and Marci’s wedding invitation laid proud on the coffee table, silently mocking her name whenever she was the only one left in the apartment. She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. There’s just too many things in his hands, too many problems laid on his shoulders for him to ever weigh the possibility of matrimony.

She understood, a little too well, the reason for his silence. And though she once dreamed of having a family of her own, having mini versions of her and him running around the apartment and knocking over the cup of tea that would stain their rugged carpet, she’s learned to bury such thoughts in the deepest pit of her heart. She reckons, sacrificing something that she’s never had before would be less painful than losing the one she already has.

Five years of being loved by Matt Murdock would certainly make you a little too attached to the man.

But even with his gentle touch, the sweet nothings he whispered in her ears and the embrace he would always blanket her nights with, fear was never kept too far away. As much as she loves and understands him, as much as he worships and adores her, Matt was never an easy riddle to solve. His mind works with such complexity she’d never truly decipher. Oftentimes his actions speak much louder than his words and the past few days have only served as the new demons she has to battle with at night.

There’s always been more paperwork, more cases that needed his urgent attention before he could excuse himself out of the office, and even when his job was done, his other calls would already become too urgent for him to ignore. One too many rain checks done for their dates, that she couldn’t even bother asking if they could find a replacement date. Matt’s a busy man, his growing reputation and the demand Daredevil would have to serve at night were something she’s accepted, what she’s yet to understand, however, is his lack of communication. There were less words, less explanations and reassurance for her to hold on to. The blackhole that she’s currently drowning in was quiet and deadly. Something that he would not notice with the lack of presence.

Now she sits alone in their apartment, eyes vacant and barely blinking while her brain haywired. Perhaps this sudden change of action was caused by her wrongdoings. She tries to trace down every possible mistake she might have made, every misspoken word and unintentional actions, in an attempt to find a way to fix it. To apologise for whatever fault she’s committed before the sin stained a little too deep to ever be fixed.

If this was anyone else, she would’ve been upfront and ask if there’s anything wrong, confront the issue head-on without a care in the world, but this is Matt. He pushes people as easily as he draws them. One wrong movement and she fears all hell would break loose for them.

“Baby?” she heard Matt call, turning her head to see him entering from the staircase “What are you still doing up? It’s late.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answers, walking to him and taking his helmet away “Was it an easy patrol?”

“Quite, yeah. Not too bad but not too boring either,” he says with a grin “I’ve missed you.”

She sighs, letting his hands rest on her waist while hers encircle his neck, “Yeah, well, you’ve been busy.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says regretfully “Say, why don’t we go to that restaurant you’ve been wanting to try? The Italian one? How about this Friday, will you be free then?”

“I don’t know, will you? You’re the one who’s been so occupied lately.”

“I’ll be free on Friday, I promise,” he says excitedly, stealing a peck on her lips “So what do you say? Friday after work?”

Another tired sigh escapes her. Moments like this melts her worry away. Staring into his beautiful face, seeing that charming smile tugged on the corner of his lips, while his body was pressed against her. But as much as she treasures this, as much as she appreciates the comfort he could always bring her, she knew that the dark cloud would return the moment he’s out of her sight.

Gently, she leans in and kisses him. Matt’s grip on her shirt tightens, smiling between the kiss in satisfaction. Perhaps he misses her just as much as she missed him.

“Friday, it is.”

—-

She peeled herself off of the blanket with a huge sigh. The other side of the bed was cold, signifying that he’s been out for quite some time but she couldn’t find it in herself to frown. They do have a date afterwards. Perhaps Matt just wanted to make sure that he’s done all his work on time before they could escape their hectic lives for an hour or two.

It was still early for her to get ready for work, but coming early and finishing her tasks as soon as possible so she could have more time to doll herself up before the date sounds like a better plan to do. She sits up from the bed, hand carelessly reaching for the hair tie on the bedside table before knocking Matt’s phone in the process.

She picks up the item, thinking that it was one of the rare occurrences for him to forget his belongings. Reckon she really needs to get ready now so she could drop by his office and give him his phone, but her frown grows when someone calls.

“Hello?” she says as she picks it up.

“Oh, shit,” the other end of the line says before hanging up.

It was a woman. A voice that she was unfamiliar with. The twist in her gut grew, spreading through her veins like venom. She’s never one to pry on Matt’s phone, always confident in his loyalty, but given his absence and the strange call, her fingers couldn’t stop themselves from punching the passcode.

There was no text history with the caller, but there were several call logs, dating far into the past few weeks when he started to be ‘busy’. She wanted to call back the woman, ask her who she is and why she has been on frequent calls with her boyfriend, but she was too scared to face the possible truth. Too afraid to welcome the pour of the icy reality— that he’s found someone else.

“Oh, you’re up!” Matt says, cheeks flushed with slight panting “I forgot my phone.”

“Yeah, I know,” she answers, her voice caught in her throat. Still trying to process the event that’s just happened and how to act in front of him “I— Someone— Gwyneth called.”

“Oh,” his tongue darts to lick his lips, visibly looking nervous now “What did she say?”

“Nothing, she— She hung up.”

“Your heart is beating fast,” Matt notes “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just— Did you run back here?”

“I did, yeah. I was already at the office when I realised I'd forgotten my phone. I need it for the case I’m currently working on,” he answers, walking to her with careful steps “Can I have it, please?”

She swallows the lump in her throat, handing him the item in silence.

“Thank you,” Matt says, placing a kiss on the crown of her head “Listen, I have to run back, I’m having a meeting with a client in five minutes. I’ll see you later for our date, okay?”

She was still silent, breath hitched and sweats forming in the back of her neck.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, okay,” she finally answers, looking up to meet his eyes “I’ll see you later.”

Matt hesitated. He looks as if he was debating to ask something, looking conflicted over whatever it is that might be troubling his mind but the words died in his tongue. Perhaps unsure if he would want to pour petrol over the turmoil that’s evidently building between them. His finger taps on the phone in his palm as he says instead, “I love you.”

She forces a smile, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see it but it was the only attempt she could pull to suppress the tears that were slowly watering her eyes, “I know.”

“You’re not gonna say it back?”

“You know I love you,” She says, kissing the back of his hand that was holding the phone “Go, you’re going to be late for the meeting.”

Matt smiles, stealing a kiss from her lips before heading back out.

—-

Her breathing was rigid. The movement of her chest forced as if trying her best to compose herself. Her lips were pressed in a tight smile, chewing her meal silently as she tried to focus on the words Matt was saying.

She tries, God knows she tries, to forget about this morning’s incident. Perhaps Gwyneth was the client he was supposed to meet. It surely isn't strange for him to have frequent calls with her if that was the case, but why does it feel wrong? Why does it feel like there’s something bigger that she wasn’t aware of? Why does it feel as if there was something Matt wasn’t telling?

“Love,” Matt calls, taking her hand slowly in his “Are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lies through her teeth.

“Are you sure? Your heart has been beating like crazy all night.”

“Yeah, well, maybe stop listening to my heartbeat for once, Matt.”

The smile on his face waters, surprised to hear her bitter spat.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound as cruel,” she sighs, taking her hand away from him to rub her temples “I just have a lot of things in mind.”

Matt sighs, nodding in understanding, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, she wanted to say, let’s talk about the affair you’re having behind me.

But is she ready? Is she ready to be stripped off of the fantasy that she’s tried so hard to build with him? Is she ready to bid goodbye to all the dreams and hopes she’s made with him? Is she ready to accept the fact that there would be no Matt in her future?

It was pathetic, sure, to hold on to the last strings of hope when the most possible outcome is laid bare in front of her. To be stubborn for once against the demons that are torturing her mind. But Matt is the only good thing in her life she’d never be ready to lose. He is the one thing she would rather risk her life for than to ever be separated from. Even if she has to turn a blind eye and pretend as if the romance they’re living in was pure and innocent.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, letting out a sigh to collect her composure “How’s your meeting? Did it go well?”

“Splendid. Listen, I have something to talk to you about,” he says, deflecting the topic. Matt takes a nervous gulp. His hands are now under the table, invisible to her eyes “I– Uh, I don’t know where to start.”

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the tears threatened to form on her eyes. This must be it. The nervousness that has been bleeding out of him, the continuous rambling he does the whole night to mask his uneasiness, the way he keeps on rubbing his palm on his trousers. This must be it. This must be their end.

“You know how we’ve been together for quite some time now,” Matt starts, his hands still hidden under the table “I know five years with me must not have been the easiest for you. I know just how difficult it could be, living with me and accepting the life that I’m living in. I know that we didn’t always have sunshine and rainbows. Most of the time we have storms and thunders, really, yet we’re still here. You’re still here,” He says gently, his left hand reaching for hers “I know that you deserve better, that you can find someone better—”

She abruptly stood on her feet, letting his hand go in the process that he retreats it fast and hides it under the table once again. Her breathing was heavy, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Matt asks with a worried tone, still sitting on his seat.

“I have to get out of here.”

“W-What?”

She spared him no other word, grabbing her purse and bolting herself out of the restaurant.

Her heart was hammering inside her chest. By the time she hailed for a taxi, her cheeks were already wet with tears. The night she’s been looking forward to, the one date she hoped would flush all of her worries down the drain, turns out to be her worst nightmare. Never would she ever expect Matt to be this cruel. To lead her on, promising a lovely date when they haven’t seen each other for so long, only to break up with her before the clock strikes at nine. With an illicit affair she wasn’t aware of until the very morning, should one add.

“Wait, wait,” Matt says, stopping the taxi door before it closes “Where are you going? What happened?”

“Just leave me alone, Matt, please,” she begs through her tears.

“Baby, why are you crying?”

“Leave me alone, Matt. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

“I— What did I do?”

“Just— Please, don’t make it any harder than it already is.”

Matt was appalled, confused as to what might trigger this response, but he could feel just how upset she was. Her body was shaking, fingers trembling as they frantically wiped the tears that kept on flowing. Never had he ever seen her this distraught and Matt was scared that he would do more harm than good to try and talk with her about it, so he surrenders, “Okay, we’ll go home, okay? Let me just pay for dinner first.”

“No, I’m not going home. I told you, I don’t want to see you, okay!” She says, this time with a raise of voice as her anger slowly seeps in “I just want you to leave me alone, is that really too much to ask for?”

Hurt was evident on his face now, but she was too caught up with her own emotions to notice it.

“Please, Matt,” She begs, her voice hoarse in plea “Please let me go.”

Matt nods, ceasing his last attempt to hold her as he closes the taxi door. He listens as the driver steps on the gas, driving her away to wherever it is she might go. Though the car drives further from him, the sound of her sobs only grows louder in his ear. He wasn’t sure what he did, what he said that might have prompted this response, but whatever it is, he knew that he’s royally ruined what could’ve been the best night of their lives.

—-

It has been a week since she fled Hell’s Kitchen. She knew that there’s no corner in the city that he wouldn’t scour to find her, so she had to go a little farther to find shelter. She needed time and space to think, to take in the cruel reality that has finally caught up with her, before she could take baby steps towards acceptance. 

On the second day, she no longer breaks in tears whenever she looks into her phone and see the many messages Matt has left. By the fourth day, she could partly accept the fact that their ship had sunk. That trying to mend what’s been broken would only restrain him from his freedom, from loving the one person he might actually meant to be with. She loves him, too much for words to ever truly express it, but if being with another woman brings him better happiness, then she would sacrifice herself and blow the candle out. She would let him go.

The suffocation she feels in her lungs the moment she steps in the apartment was unbearable but she dragged her feet still. She whispers her silent goodbye, fingers tracing the walls of the apartment that she would soon leave. Her eyes study the surroundings, memorising each detail of Matt’s loft that she loved so much before she’s no longer welcomed.

She wonders if whoever would live with him next would keep the flower vase by the window. She wonders if they would change the lights in the living room. She wonders if they would paint the walls and fix the squeaky bathroom door. She wonders just how much of her remnants would be left untouched.

“You’re home,” Matt greets, breathless as if he just jolted out of bed.

It’s clear to see that he was in a wreck. The stubbles on his face were unkempt, new bruises littering his body. Matt looks defeated. Like he’s been dragged through a losing war and shattered beyond saving.

“I’m just here to take my things,” she says with a shaky voice, trying her best to keep herself calm and collected “I won’t take long. I’ll take whatever I couldn’t pack today on the weekends.”

“Where are you going?” He frowns, tilting his head a little in confusion “Why are you leaving?”

“Well, I’ve held you back long enough, haven’t I? It’s about time I let you go,” she says with a heartbroken sniffle, forcing a self-pitying smile “I won’t keep you from anyone, anymore. You’re free.”

Matt takes a few steps closer, his brows knitted as he finds himself further lost in the conversation, “Hold me back— Free— What are you talking about?”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The other night? You wanted to break up with me,” she explains, swallowing the hard pill “I understand. I’ve accepted it, too. We don’t have to go through that conversation again.”

“Break up— What?”

“Matt, don’t play dumb with me,” she says with her patience wearing thin “I know everything. I know why you’ve been so busy lately. I know about your affair with Gwyneth, I know it all.”

“Affair? Gwyneth?” Matt questions, running a hand through his hair as he tries to place the puzzle pieces together “What are you talking about?”

“Look, you can really stop being a douche and just get off with it, alright? Do you really expect me to spell it to you? You cheated on me with Gwyneth. There, I said it.”

“I— What makes you think that I cheated on you with her?”

“Well, you’ve been gone. You have lots of call logs with her and they all aligned to the days when you started being distant. And that day when she called, she hung up because she heard my voice, didn’t she? She was scared that I’d find out about you two, well, guess what, I did.”

Matt’s lips were parted. The crease on his forehead was still deep as he tried to let her words sink in. He visibly looks baffled to the point that she starts to wonder if she’s making the right sense, but she wouldn’t let that puppy eye and innocent look on his face water her walls down. She’s given more than enough understanding for him to ever play her this way.

“Well? What do you have to say about yourself?” she asks, folding her hands in front of her chest “No arguments to defend yourself, Mr. Attorney?”

The corners of his lips tugged upward as he let out a satisfied sigh. Colours returned to his face the moment his brain caught up with her words. Like a lighting bulb glowing after it's been switched on. Without a word, Matt walks back to the bedroom. He returned not even a minute later with a small box in his hand.

“I have not been cheating on you,” he begins, taking one of her hands gently “I would never, ever, betray us like that. I love you too much to ever think about anyone else.”

“But Gwyneth—,”

“Gwyneth is a jeweller that has been helping me find the right ring for someone,” Matt cuts in, opening the box for her to see “I didn’t know what kind of ring you’d like, what design or what gem you’d like on it, so I looked for some personal jeweller to help me out.”

She was left speechless, looking down to the ring with utter embarrassment.

“When you picked up her call, she was trying to tell me that the ring was ready, but she didn’t expect you to answer. She was caught off guard, scared that she might spoil your surprise.”

Her head hangs low. Just how ridiculously stupid could she be. She was ashamed of thinking the worst, labelling names on Matt that should never have even crossed her mind. How is she supposed to apologise now after ruining their moment? After tainting their relationship red? Would she even have the chance to mend what she’s broken when she’s betrayed the trust between them?

“Hey,” Matt calls, holding her chin up gently “I've never cheated on you. There was never anyone else and there will never be. There’s only you, just you, and no one else.”

“I’m sorry,” she cries “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a misunderstanding,” he says with a chuckle, pulling her for a hug and rubbing her back “It’s okay, Baby. It’s my fault for being too occupied too, I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t get to apologise, okay? It’s only going to make me feel worse,” she sobs in his embrace “I should’ve known better. I should’ve trusted you or at the very least asked about Gwyneth, before jumping into conclusions.”

“Well, honestly, if you asked me about her, I wouldn’t have known what to say either. I’m not the best of a liar in front of you,” he answers, letting out a sigh “That morning I knew your heart was beating erratically but I was too scared to ask because I didn’t want you to ask about her. I didn’t have the answers to give without spoiling the surprise.”

She let go of the hug, wiping her tears while his hands still rested on her waist, “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“It doesn’t really matter. What matters is your answer,” Matt says with a nervous smile, letting go of his hold and kneeling in front of her now “I’m just gonna keep it short before either of us falls into another misunderstanding,” he says before the two of them break into a short laughter “Will you marry me?”

Her grin spreads, nodding as she kneels to his level, “Yes, yes, of course.”

Matt beams as he slips the ring on her finger. A satisfied exhale came out of him. Like he's just successfully removed mountains from his own shoulders. He pulls her for a kiss, hands cupping on cheeks gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, Matt Murdock,” she answers, her hand combing the strands of his hair with her fingers “You’re really a wreck without me, huh?”

He lets out a sigh, stealing another kiss through their laughter, “You have no idea.”

[cookiesandcrumbs]

So, I've been thinking of how it could be interesting to see the inspo i used for my Spring collection. A lot of it comes from Talbots catalogues. Spring came from their 2019 June and May editions.

First one is the cover, the poses for the cover as well as several of the other poses inside the catalogue, were made by the ever so talented @someone-elsa! Thank you so much again!

Next is the pedal pusher pants. Not very similar, in fact, not similar at all. But it was merely the idea of pedal pusher pants. I pieced together at least two different diffuse maps as well as a nice texture i got from fuzzimo that i edited a bit.

After that we have the espadrilles. I even tried to recreate the overhead shot of deco versions of the shoes haha. Don't ask me if i still have the deco, i don't. I may have accidentally deleted it. It wasn't made for public consumption anyway, only for preview. I do still have the XCF for it however, if anyone is interested in that. Canvas and wicker textures came from brusheezy and sims 3 respectively.

Next up is the bermuda shorts. Technically the inspo isn't bermuda shorts but, the mesh i used is called bermuda so, that's how that came to be. I looked all over for a pattern that might look somewhat like the inspo but, ultimately failed. Which is fine! I opted for a texture called Elegant grid from transparenttextures. I made some various embossing and overlay editing to it and got this elevated layering look. I think it came out neat.

Now comes the mock-neck. I made the mock neck neck myself. I just, selected the neck edges and scaled a little and nudged and unwrapped and uv mapped it somewhere else lol. The button area was a major struggle. I had to find a button texture that looked similar enough, i tried many versions. It's mapped separately from the actual shoulder, too, so the edges are 'crisp'. Inside the XCF i shared, you can find a version to recolor it the opposite way, dark base with light stripes. THAT took ages, finding the best overlay modes and combinations of layers. But i did it! You're welcome!

Here we have the skirt. This was a fairly simple item yet, it took some time to blend textures and copy and paste and gradient mask and noise and such, to get this look. I'm not even exaggerating when i say i had to re-make it AT LEast 5 times, on both masculine and feminine models. The diffuse maps are different since the masculine skirt sits lower than the feminine diffuse map. Both textures also needed to look like it came from the same roll of fabric, so i had to re-do it several times if i made a mistake. But the result i think is great!

Last but not least is the dress. I'm excluding the jumpsuit since it's identical but, Pants. I made the marble texture myself. Came out quite nice, right? The XCF for these also include an option to hide the bow, should you want to recolor without the bow. But, if you do that, you need a normal map without a bow. Fear not, i got you. In the download for the XCFs, I've included a folder called Extras, with just that, extra normal maps for both the dress and jumpsuit, without the bow! You can also recolor it without the marble if you want. The normal map i made for the collection is a solid one so you don't need a different normal map for those.

And yeah, that's it!

[blindseer0]

First Route

I'm curious; what Route of Echo did you first play and what were your impressions of each of the main characters, just from that route?

I did Flynn's route first.

Chase: Despite the reveals and some of his behavior, I actually liked him. Super flawed, but still relatable and somewhat tragic.

Carl: Had a big part in Flynn's Route; I thought he was a bit of a goof, but well meaning. Felt pretty bad for him when the interview went south. Was definitely weird seeing him in other routes without Daxton to bounce off of.

Leo: I ended up picking all of the Daxton option, so Leo was muy loco here. Still didn't tip me off to how his route was going to go though. Mostly I just felt bad for him (if a little scared) because it was very clear choosing not to talk things out led to this.

Jenna: Jenna came off as overprotective, but even though she was overly harsh with Flynn, I did get where she was coming from and couldn't judge her too hard. She also redeemed herself (and her relationship with Flynn) when he trusted her to use a gun, and she shot the monster on the road (and the ending with little Jenna left me loving her and her relationship with Flynn).

TJ: I kind of feel like this is TJ's strongest route; he tells Leo and Jenna to shut up and stop babying him and willingly tells Flynn what happened. While he spends the rest of the route scared out of his mind (understandable), he's still less comatose than he is in Leo and Jenna's routes. I'd say he left a pretty good impression.

Syd the Kid: I think I'm slowly coming around to the idea that kid Sydney is my favorite character, and I've replayed his scenes more than any other part of the game. They're just so good and they give you such a good sense of who this child was. I know he bullied TJ (and the tragic backstory doesn't excuse that), but I still love him (and what he could have been).

Flynn: Man of the hour. One of the, if not the most tragic character in the game. Chase wanted to know what his deal was, and this route sure did tell us his deal. None of this excuses how he treated TJ (or the others), but knowing his motivations (and what he's done) makes his actions in the other routes, particularly Jenna's, much more meaningful. Came out of this really admiring the complexity of his writing and how he never stops being an asshole, but is an asshole you root for. (Disclaimer, Flynn is the character I most relate to, so I might be a little biased.)

[sweetpayaso]

🤡 PSA: PLEASE READ 🤡

Before I go do some cleaning, I wanted to get this off my chest. No, this isn’t another impulsive vent post, in fact, it will be my last post regarding last night’s events.

I have felt incredibly guilty ever since I vented about a particular ship. It was never my intent, as I’ve said before, to shut down others’ work simply because I don’t like it. Yes, I do not like Jack x Jeff, but I don’t hate or have anything against people who do, and I feel some may have taken my feelings on the subject a bit personal. People here are just trying to have fun, right?

My relationship with Laughing Jack, who yes, I am aware is a fictional character, is complicated. I don’t necessarily view myself as a casual Jack selfshipper, but the ones who are casual shippers are some of the coolest people I have ever met, and I have never once thought of my love for Jack as superior to theirs.

I responded by trauma dumping to a user I have never talked with before who questioned the state of my health when it came to Jack, which after a moot pointed out, realized that wasn’t the appropriate response to someone who might have just been showing genuine concern, even if it came off a bit rude initially. I don’t do well without tone indicators sometimes, so please forgive me. My hostility comes from a near decade of unhealthily bottling my mental health issues, because my mom never got me the care I needed, only threats to a psych ward.

I want to change; I realize my trauma dumping isn’t doing me or anyone else any favors, but when you have no money, no ability to drive, no other outlets, in a world that often shuns people like you, my options are very limited. I’ve had no luck finding a therapist for every issue I may have; this has been my coping mechanism since I was 15. I’m autistic, and still don’t feel like I ever aged mentally past 15 because of it. I was never given the tools I needed to be an adult, so I regress often. It’s the only thing I can think to do when shit goes south.

But enough with the pity story, I really just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Yeah, may not mean much, but, I really am sorry for everything, whether it’s being jealous over something I can’t control, or just being an awful friend.

I really am trying to get better, it’s just taking longer than I’ve planned for it to, because of things constantly getting pushed back.