#they should invent someone i can talk to about this without feeling like i am lying or a bad person or making things up for attention or

[basementxdweller]

thinking about that time i was asked "who molested you for you to turn out this way" on here. something something that action had consequences

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #28

Solomon: Boil up some Mountain Dew. It’s gonna be a long night

Barbatos: You could have said anything else

Solomon: Cauldron boil and cauldron bubble, Baja blast to fuel my trouble

•

MC: Got a vibe check at Claire’s

Thirteen: How was it?

MC: I have 3 weeks to live

•

Mammon: If only I were Kpop. Then you’d all see.

Leviathan: You’re already popular and widely hated. What more do you want???

Mammon: Thanks for saying that

•

Belphegor: How does it feel to be a god?

MC: Idk ask me after I do 10 pushups

Beelzebub: Do ten pushups then

MC: Fuck you. No

•

Belphegor: Might fuck around and walk into a thick fog and never return idk

•

Mammon: Mark my fucking worms

Satan: This statement dealt 10 damage to everyone in a 2 mile radius

•

Solomon:

Help me, I am trapped

Inside a haiku factory

Save me, before they

Simeon:

I got your message

And have snuck my way inside

Oh my god, what the

•

Asmodeus: You’re all beautiful in your own special way

Leviathan: Actually, I am very ugly

Asmodeus: Okay then I was wrong

•

Leviathan: You know what better than weed? Water

Mammon: Here’s the dumb bitch again

Leviathan: Shut up you dehydrated high motherfucker

•

Raphael: Why does baby Yoda have completely different eyes to as an adult…

Diavolo: Puberty

Leviathan: You know how people’s baby teeth fall out

Raphael: Thank you for equally awful answers

•

Asmodeus: The sexual tension between two gas stations on the same intersection

Thirteen: I’m so sick of this shit. Two gas stations can’t even be on the same block without someone shipping them, while I can’t find a single fic of Denny’s/Applebee’s with Denny bottoming

Solomon: You’re literally out of your mind if you think Denny’s isn’t a top

Lucifer: I wish the 2012 apocalypse actually happened

•

Asmodeus: Does anyone know a single redeeming fact about New Hampshire? Is anything good about it?

MC: Letters can be arrange to spell “heh…penis warm”

Asmodeus: How tragic that a place so wretched should be blessed

•

Solomon: I think we can be evil. As a treat

MC: We?

Solomon: We :)

•

MC: Old people? More like fold people

*makes an origami swan out of grandma*

Lucifer: Literally what was going through your mind that motivated you to make this?

•

Leviathan: Tumblr is just talking to yourself but for an audience

Simeon: That’s called a soliloquy

Leviathan: Found the theater kid. Get em boys

•

Mammon: Coats and jackets are too aesthetically pleasing to only wear during the cold seasons. I think scientists need to stop doing their dumb bullshit and band together to invent a jacket that can be worn whilst it’s hot out

Mephistopheles: Vests?

Mammon: You’re so lucky a computer screen protects you from my hands

Last • Next

[dashofmonsters]

Dreamers & Delusions- Pt. 7

merman x female reader

"Would you like to move in with me then?" Tao asks.

You gape at him in disbelief of what just came out of his mouth before shaking your head, "Wait a second, wait a second... You'd be ok with me living with you?"

"Yes, that's why I asked." Tao confirms.

"Because you know if I agree to this and I move out of my grandmother's, she won't take me back and I can't afford rent in this area even with a double shift at the diner and all," you wave your hand about as you rant your concerns.

Tao nods and reaches for your hands, "You can stay here if you want. I would never, could never abandon a shoal mate."

You know he's being sincere, know that he'd never kick you out or leave you behind. But you're also scared, scared of these feelings that you have for him. He's your friend and you trust him so much that it hurts sometimes.

You want to jump up and say yes a million times over but there's this part of your heart that weeps at the idea of growing closer to someone you've decided is off limits. It would be torturous to stay with him, to be any closer than what you'd allow.

"Let me... let me think about it ok?" you finally say, poking the remnants of your cake slice.

"Oh... uh Of course," Tao stutters, sounding unusually shocked. "It's a big decision, I understand"

"Yup, for sure." you shove the piece of cake in your mouth and try and think of something else to talk about but nothing comes to mind.

There's a stretch of awkward silence that Tao eventually breaks when he takes a sip of coffee and nearly chokes on it. You jump down out of your seat to check up on him but he laughs it off. You can't help but to notice he's a bit dry to the touch, his usually moist and slightly leathery skin feels a bit scratchy.

"Tao, buddy, I think your overdue for a jump into your tank." you poke his arm and he looks down at it with a grimace.

He quickly hides his arm behind his back, his pointed ears have flattened like that of a cat's and he's backed away from me a good few feet.

"Should I not have mentioned that you need to rehydrate? Is that some cultural thing?" you ask.

Tao looks to the hatch and then at the floor and then the closet and then basically anywhere that's not you. He looks visibly uncomfortable and like he might run off at any second.

"Dude, you gotta talk to me or else I'm not sure what to do here." You sigh.

Without looking at you he nods and groans, "It is a cultural thing and it is a bit embarrassing to my kind... I am well hydrated, I just uhh missed a spot when I was scrapping off my dead skin..."

"Ok, no big deal then. Easily fixable right?" you smile at him, hoping that it'll help him be less uncomfortable but he still looks like he's ready to sprint.

"It is indeed a very big deal my friend, please excuse me." Tao dashes off and kicks the hatch open, and before you can say his name he's plunged right in. Water splashes up and around the living room floor and you're left alone.

The house in quiet once more but less awkward. Now that he's gone into the tank you're left alone with your thoughts and you're not quite liking them. If you had your phone you'd be texting Jess all about this, hoping for some sound advice. For the first time in a long time though, you're absolutely alone.

So you do the one thing that's always taken your mind off of anything and start cleaning.

You knew Tao's tiny beach house like the back of your hand since it's a pretty finite space and well organized. Usually he keeps his home spotless but since he rescued you he hasn't been paying much attention to keeping up with his house.

Lucky me, you think as you riffle through the cubbies of cleaning supplies under his kitchen sink.

Tao buddy, your house is about to be attacked by anxiety induced cleaning.

You attack the kitchen first, getting into every nook and cranny you can. At some point you get inventive in order to get the hard to reach spots as intrusive thoughts creep in here and there. A full hour passes and though your fingers are now wrinkled from being damp and your back sore from bending over in ways you weren't meant to, you continue on.

It's not till one of your wounds opens and blood drips that you realized you went a little too hard too soon. You groan and clean the spot off before holding a wad of folded paper towels over it. A makeshift bandage till you can find one of Tao's many first aid kits.

You look under the sink and in the pantry but you don't see high nor low of any band aids or antibiotic ointment. You run down the hall to the bathroom hoping you'll find one in there when you start to feel dizzy. You look down and see that the paper towel is almost all red.

Well that's not fucking good...

You're not one of those people who faint at the sight of blood but for some reason you've never been too ok with seeing a lot of yours exiting your body like this. You do your best to continue your search with shaky hands and a calm mind but your anxiety has other ideas.

Your vision blurs as tears sting the corners of your eyes and you do your best to hold back the pathetic whimpering but you crumple in front of the bathtub and cry as you hold onto your wound.

A small part of you hopes Tao won't find you like this and that you'll be passed out already but the larger part of you is hoping he'll get his tall merman ass over to you ASAP.

In desperation you remove the shirt you borrowed from Tao and start to wrap your arm with it but your hands are too shaky. You curse and cry and then gasp as you feel yourself being lifted up. You don't have it in you to protest until the cold water of the tub makes you yelp.

A soothing hand holds your shaking arm still as the stinging effects of the healing potion bubble along the wound.

"I should have warned you that this only acts as a temporary fix but doesn't completely heal the wound unless you use it a few times a day," Tao rubs his thumb against your hand, his voice is filled with remorse and worry.

All you can do is nod as you attempt to curl your body into a ball, both out of embarrassment for being pretty much naked in front of Tao and ashamed that he's seen you in this crumbled state. Being pathetic from nearly dying out at sea is one thing but being pathetic because you can't handle the sight of your own blood is another thing entirely, at least to you it is.

"You've lost even more blood, you must be exhausted..." His hand slowly leaves yours and pats your shoulder. "I'll be back with a towel and then I'll take you to my nest. Try and get some rest tonight."

Without meaning to, you start sobbing. You're completely inconsolable as you cry into your hands. You feel childish and Tao makes it even worse as he scoops you up into a towel a wraps you up. He holds you close as if you mean the world to him so you cry against his chest. You're a shaking shivering wet hot mess who is crying so hard in the arms of her crush that she starts falling asleep.

Your eyes sting with the salt of your tears and your throat aches from crying but you feel at peace. Like you can finally sleep without having to worry about getting you ass beaten for no fucking reason. You don't feel scared or on edge.

Suddenly the heat from Tao's body is missing and is replaced with a large comforter. He tucks you in and you whimper. He soothes his hand against your cheek and you turn into it and cry some more. You haven't felt this safe in a long long time nor this amount of pain and agony.

You hate to admit it, but you really like Tao... no, you're in love with him and this is going to fucking hurt.

~~~~~~

Your soul nearly jumps out of your body when you wake up to the loud clap of thunder. You jolt up and gasp as you look around in the dimly lit nest room. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and then it nearly stops when a very large hand plops onto your shoulder. It takes you a moment to realize that it's Tao's arm.

It takes you less time then that to realize that you're naked and Tao's large arm is across your body and rubbing up against your chest.

Tao groans and turns up against you as his hand slowly roves down to your hip, pulling you down until he's spooning you. And then, he begins to purr. His large cold hands absent mindlessly roam until one settles on your hip and the other on your shoulder. His mouth is dangerously clothes to your ear and his um... um...

Your mind goes blank because you've dated and you know what morning wood feels like and this... uh... he's either got a very big package or he got two very good size packages.

Right now, you feel as if you're both in heaven and hell being wrapped up in the arms of the merman you've finally admitted to yourself that you're in love with. Unfortunately, he'll regret this because you're not his mate.

You allow this to go on for a few more moments before you start wiggling out of his arms as carefully as you can before locating something you can wrap yourself up in.

With your now strapless blanket dress on you decide to tip toe to the kitchen for a quick midnight snack. You find the soup that Tao had made for you and toss it in the microwave while munching on some chips. Thoughts of the day and years past start to rear their ugly head as you stare at the spinning bowl. All your worst fears and nightmares circling around. You've told yourself you're not meant for love for so many years because if you were no one would have betrayed or left you.

And that's why you hate how fast you fell for Tao. You know he won't betray you or leave you without a damn good reason. He's been blunt and brutally honest with you to the point that it hurts sometimes. You trust him so much and feel so safe with him that it scares the shit out of you.

The soup pops in the microwave snapping you from your deep dark thoughts. You quickly clean up the mess while trying not to burn yourself on the hot bowl. You stir the lukewarm contents before shoving it back into the microwave, this time covered up.

You sigh and turn to head towards the fridge but end up bumping right into the rock hard chest of your heart's tormentor.

Like a bumbling idiot you jump back and nearly trip yourself up in the saddest attempts to gain composure. You obviously failed.

Tao sort of catches you, sort of pins you against the counter. Either way, you're both flustered and awkward.

"I uh... are you well enough to be walking around?" Tao asks as he helps you straighten up.

"Oh um yeah, just a little sore. Mostly hungry," you shrug and nod towards the microwave.

Tao nods his head and for the first time you notice that his eyes are all black. Not a single fleck of gold in them.

"Did you come out here for a snack too?" you ask as you start towards the fridge again.

You barely make it past Tao when he hoists you up in his arms and walks you to one of the bar stools.

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad off," you groan as he sets you down.

He glares daggers at you and frowns, "Need I remind you that you're still healing and that your wounds are only temporarily closed."

You want to joke or make some kind of snide remark but the incident is still fresh so you end up just curling into yourself. You gently clutch your sore and bruised arm and turn away from Tao.

Tao's fingers brush against your arm but quick retract when the microwave goes off. He takes the soup out and sets it front of you before going back to grab some rolls and pour you a glass of water.

You stare blankly at your food, your stomach sinking and appetite disappearing. You fidget with your fingers as your eyes start to blur from the heaviness in your chest.

Tao tries to reach out to hold you but you dodge his arms and slide off the chair. You're breathing is a little labored as you crumple to the floor. You needed more time before seeing him again, needed more time to compose yourself so you can continue lying to yourself.

You hear Tao talking a mile a minute, panic in his voice but once again his words are lost on you. You feel him get close so you scramble back, putting some dramatic distance between the two of you.

"Why are you running from me!?" he yells, the panic having evolved to pure distress and confusion. His black eyes are wide and his usually well kept hair is a mess and sticking to his face.

The bottle holding your years and years of pent up emotions finally shatters and without warning you cry out every frustration, every bold face lie you told to keep yourself safe, and every terror you've ever faced.

At some point you jolt up and start pacing circles like a mad woman, ranting and raving about your family, your jobs, your school, basically your whole damn life. You've told Tao bits and pieces but never the whole damn story.

You never told him that you almost died from starvation thanks to your estranged mother's fairy magic drug habits. You never told him how the girls in high school would lock you in the school over the weekends. You never told him or anyone how many times you had to lie, cheat and steal to keep your siblings fed since working in fast food hardly paid enough.

"The worst part is that I thought I finally fucking escaped my shitty ass family only to get tormented by my own grandmother on a daily fucking basis!" You shout, your chest heaving and your eyes now dried and crusted. "Who fucking tells their grandkid that their an overweight piece of shit? Who fucking does that?!"

It was a matter you used to joke about, something that you'd act like it didn't bother you but the truth is that it always got under your skin. You hardly got to eat anything decent growing up and now that you're all grown up you get to eat whenever and whatever you damn well please. It's not like you gorge yourself, but no one, especially your grandmother, should have any fucking say in your weight.

Tao slowly walks till he's right in front of you before crouching down. His hand slides against your cheek and he whispers some sort of spell that soothes the ache in your eyes. You crumble into his arms, truly exhausted now. He gently kisses your forehead before carefully lifting you up.

"You're safe here, you can rest," he tells you, his voice cracking.

You nuzzle up against him and his hold on you tightens. You always felt safe with him, it was an immediate thing. Like the second you met him you had this feeling deep down that you knew you could trust him.

Little by little you drift in and out as he walks you back to his nest room and tucks you back in. You feel him hovering over you before he leans in to kiss your cheek and then your nose. He slowly peppers your face in gentle and soft kisses expect he never kisses your lips. You can't help but to laugh before you sit up just enough so you can quickly steal a kiss from him.

It was meant to be a quick kiss goodnight before you pass out but that low rumble you hear from Tao catches you off guard and you get lost in the moment. He leans into you, holding you close. One kiss turns to two, turns to three and before you know he's lowering you back into his nest, lips still locked.

His large hand cups your face and you feel your heart pounding like crazy as your face heats up. You and Tao have kissed before, but not like this. He's kissing you like he actually likes you, and more than just a friend. He's kissing you like...

You turn your face from him and fake a yawn, "Oh god, sorry... I'm just-"

"Get some sleep," He kisses your cheek and sits up. "We'll talk in the morning."

You smile at him as he gets up and heads to the door. He nervously mentions that he's really dehydrated and it might be a bit before he comes up for air tomorrow. You wave him off and tell him goodnight before rolling yourself up into a ball of blankets and woe.

"I really fucked up..." you grumble as you clutch at your heart.

~~~~~~

Tao:

I really fucked up, I think.

I allowed myself to get caught up in my emotions and fell into her arms. I haven't even told her how I feel nor have I given her the space to heal.

Gods and goddesses I am the absolute worst.

I lament myself as I droop over a pile of rocks. I knew she had a tough upbringing and has issues with he family but I never realized just how much she was hiding. How long has she been suffering on her on?

She laid herself bare, screaming in agony of every sad story no one probably ever cared enough to listen to.

My heart bleeds for her, truly. For I know what it means to be alone in that regards. I had started opening up to her little by little. I never felt compelled to talk about myself but with her I feel safe enough to do so.

Suddenly my heart stops and I realize that's why she ranted for hours on end now.

She feels safe with me.

I start cursing myself in a similar fashion to my... my shoal mate.

The neutral tasting words leave behind a numb sensation. I can no longer call her my friend in private. It just tastes too awful. I can call her my shoal mate, it's a honest statement but it's still further from the truth.

When I held her earlier as she laid in my arms fast asleep I felt this need to protect her. It was similar to how I felt compelled to protect my shoal back home but there was more to it. I was anxious and every little creek or shuddering of the house had me on the edge. It wasn't until she rolled over and curled into me that I started calming down.

I started thinking long and hard about how to approach her once she was well and fully healed. I want to ask her if I could court her, tell her that it doesn't matter if we're not fated mates that my heart has chosen her. I want her as my mate and I can only hope she feels the same way.

But all that will have to wait a little while longer. She has more than just the physical wounds I must worry about. She needs to heal from the years of pain this world has wrought upon her.

I know she hasn't answered me on moving in but for her safety I will greatly insist. She cannot begin to heal properly if she's under the constant scrutiny of a woman who feigns love and concern.

I close my eyes and slowly doze off as I start planning her move and how she'd be living here and getting to work.

~~~~~~

Your everything hurts when you wake up. You somehow someway rolled into the corner of the nest room and woke up with your body curled in a way it shouldn't. You're well and tangled up in your blanket dress and something sort of sharp has left an imprint on your leg.

Ever so elegantly you toss around till you're free of your bindings and dig around for the object that left a deep dent in your thigh. When you finally find it you nearly drop it from shock. It's the crown your wore when you and Tao were dancing on the cliff. You remember leaving it here so your grandmother wouldn't ask you a million questions or worse, throw it away...

But why's it in here?

Maybe he meant to put it up somewhere safe and accidentally sort of just left it lying around, you think before quickly dismissing the thought. That wouldn't be very Tao of him.

You wrack you brain for a moment longer before you hear a knock. Turning your attention to the open doorway you see Tao's hand tossing a bag towards you.

"I woke up early this morning and it seems like the storm has mostly cleared up. I uh... I hope those are the right size," he clears his throat before excusing himself to the kitchen.

You scramble towards the bag and pull out the shirts, dresses, and pants and stare at them stunned. These were all designer brands and they all looked like they'd fit you perfectly. You want to try them all on, only problem is that you kinda wish you had some undergarments.

Picking up the bag to set it aside you feel that there's still some weight to it and see a couple of thin black boxes in there. You roll your eyes hoping that there's not over priced accessories in them or you'll have to chew Tao out for unnecessary spending.

When you open the first box your jaw drops and you feel your eyes widen to what it probably a cartoonish size. In the first black box was a set of grey and black lacy under things that looks like they'd fit like a dream. That being said, you quickly check the other box and see a black and blue set with a gold little details on it.

Your brain short circuits because both of the sets are Tao's colors. For a moment you start thinking that there's some weird hidden message here but knowing Tao who is straight forward you quickly abandon that thought. He probably just asked for help or something and they picked out sets based off of his colors thinking it's a gift for his girlfriend or some shit, you reason with yourself.

Feeling a bit more settled knowing that Tao would never gift you lingerie in his colors you set to trying on the black and blue one. As you thought, it fits perfectly. You toss on a simple light grey shirt and shimmy into a pair of blue jeans before gathering all the clothes he had gifted you into a neat folded pile.

You trot to the bathroom first before heading to the kitchen when you get the silly idea to go back to the nest room and put your crown on. You quickly settle in on your head and tip toe to the kitchen. You see Tao chopping something up but he quickly stops like he knows you're there.

"Did anything in that bag f-" He stops talking the second he turns around and his eyes widen and mouth straightens like he got caught doing something wrong.

You wave your hand at him, "Earth to Tao, you good buddy?"

He shakes his head and runs his claws through his hair before promptly returning to the chopping block, "Just fine... I uh see you found something to wear in all of that."

"Oh yeah, thank you by the way." You smile as you walk up to his side. "What are you working on?"

"I'm trying my hand at pastries. I gave up too soon the first time so I thought I'd try again," he shrugs, continuing his chopping of what looks like pistachios. "Oh and I... I made you some breakfast, it's on the bar."

You look up and see a crazy ass spread of every breakfast food imaginable. Part of you is confused but your stomach could care less about you being confused because you're hungry ass hell.

Circling around the counter, you make a jump start to the barstool and stick the landing as you grab at waffle and take a quick bite.

"Oh by the way," you pause to swallow. "You should return some of those clothes."

Tao stutters his knife and nearly slices a finger, "Did they not fit?"

"No, they all look like they'll fit perfectly it's just that they're high end brands... You shouldn't have to pay that much money for clothes. Like, I appreciate it, don't get me wrong... But this is too much," you look down and feel a bit of guilt for almost readily accepting these gifts.

You hear Tao chuckle and look up to see him shaking his head, "Believe it or not, I know what designer brands are. I bought those for you on purpose, no one ripped me off, and yes, I can afford to spend like this ever so often."

"But-"

"I'm not returning them," he looks down and swipes the chopped nuts into a bowl on the side.

You mutter something about how he should save that sort of thing for his mate and you swear you hear him grind his teeth. You quickly dig into your breakfast as you try to ignore the strange tension in the room. You notice Tao is acting a little off, not just with the clothes and breakfast but with his entire demeanor.

He seems more stern with you than usual and a bit more attentive than you care for. Your glass is empty for hardly a minute before he refills it with juice but somehow avoids looking in your general direction.

You try to ignore it but it's bothering you way to much, "Tao, buddy, are you ok?"

Tao turns and before he says anything you hold up your hand, "Because you've been acting really weird since I got up and please don't tell me this is because I trauma dumped on you yester because if it i-"

"It is, and it isn't," He admits and sighs as he tosses down a towel he was using to wipe off the counter.

"So what's wrong then? Are you mad at me? Annoyed? Is this... is this a pity thing? Oh gods please tell me this isn't a pity thing..." you start to panic and sprint out of the stool to the nest room.

Gifts are one thing but pity gifts piss you the fuck off.

Tao catches you before you make it past the bar and holds you in place, "I did none of this out of pity! I would never do something like that to you, I only wanted you to feel comfortable and provide you with the clothes of your own."

You feel yourself tensing, not used to others giving a rat's ass about your comfort without some sort of strings attached... But this is Tao, there wouldn't be a 'but' or 'however' or 'you owe me' added to his gifts and if he says he doesn't pity you then he doesn't pity you. Simple as that. Right?

"It just feels wrong somehow... I don't know why but it does," you slump. "Like I'm not worth the trouble of doing all this stuff for or getting really nice gifts."

"And who said that you're not worth it?" He crouches down in front of you, still holding your arms. His gold eyes search your face as he brings a hand up to cup your cheek. "Was it the girls who harassed their starving classmate? The mother who got high while her children suffered? Or the grandmother who shamed her granddaughter while she's healing? Because not a single one of those imbecilic curs has any room to speak of your worth nor judge you."

You feel your knees buckle and your eyes blur, "How can I be worth anything though? If I was, none of that would have happened to me, right?"

Tao shakes his head, "Your life isn't defined by your worth. You are not a commodity or currency but a person."

That's something you've always tried to tell yourself after moving away but it never felt real, never stuck its landing. But hearing Tao say it, verify that he knows there's more to you than what you can bring to the table just somehow settles you.

You fling yourself at him and give him the biggest hug you can manage that he quickly reciprocates. For the first time in forever, you feel seen. You feel safe.

"Hey Tao, buddy? If it's my day off you better let me sleep in." you laugh as you pull away, wiping the tears out of your eyes.

Tao sighs in relief and smiles, "So you'll move in?"

You smile back and nod, "I guess I should, I don't think I can go back to that hellhole."

"Thank the goddesses! I was trying to think how I should convince you to stay." He nervously laughs as he stands up,

"Honestly dude the breakfast kind of helped." you jokingly pat your stomach and he arches a brow at you.

"Really?" he tilts his head.

"Listen I was convinced when I woke up, breakfast just sealed the deal man. I'm a foodie!" You give him a silly pose and laugh.

"Oh I am going to regret some of this aren't I?" He rolls his eyes but smiles all the same.

"No takesies backsies." you grin.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Tao says and takes your.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! : ) You guys are amazing.

Sorry if this is stupid or offensive but i have a question regarding terminology describing facial diference/ disability

So my first language/ the language i write in is not english so while the terminology post is helpfull since i can translate it/ use it as a genereal guide in what to look out for it does not cover everything. I am sorry if this falls into the category of research question but how do i find good resources for terminology in my own language/ make sure its a good resource with the terms people with facial diferences in my country prefer? Its hard since my country is small and not great when it comes to ableism so there is not many resources availibel in the first place.

The second is a bit more specific. I want to include a character with cleft palate in the wider supporting cast, or at least in the background. So not a mayor/important character I can't spend much time describing them and i dont want to center their description on their facial diference. The term for cleft lip in my language literaly translates as "hare lip" into english whic is...yeah. Its probably not an uniqe case either. There might be some better term for it but i have not been abel to find it and i am not sure there is anything thats not overly medical. If that is the case should i use the medical term instead even if its jarring and include what it describes in a footnote? Does the mod team have sugestions on what else to do in this situation/ similar ones I probably will find myself in? How do i handel ableism thats literaly the integral part of my language. How do i catch terms that have ableist/ bad conotations bejond the basics since it is less called out over here i might not even notice its problematic? I dont want to make the issue any worse, further normalise bad terms by not caring about terms.

I thank you, so much in advance.

Hi! No such thing as a stupid question.

I'll just say that I very much relate to these issues considering my native language calls congenital disabilities “innate flaws” : ) so;

As for first question:

The first step would be to check if there are any organizations/groups that have resources in your language about facial differences, or checking if some international orgs have translations of their pages where they talk about facial differences. Moebius Syndrome Foundation has a page on face equality in 8 languages (+ English).

If there aren't any (high probability that this is the case unfortunately), try to see if there are any advocates for face equality that write in your language and what do they use (and in what contexts!).

If you still have issues, there's always the ultimate beauty of writing - making words up! When there's nothing you can use as a reference, the best way is to just create the word that you need. I'm aware that it could be hard to figure out what's appropriate and not accidentally offensive or insensitive, but your good intentions and putting care into it are already doing a lot of the work for you.

I really like this essay - which is about a very different disability-related topic - that asks a great question in this “how do we make [language thing] good for disabled people?” sphere: what feels beautiful? What term do you feel like sounds nice and not othering or pointlessly medicalized? Because honestly, if I encountered an invented word for facial differences in my native (very non-English) language and the explanation behind it was “I thought it sounded pretty” then I'd take it. Always better than “gross deformity” that many consider neutral without thinking about it at all.

Obviously the easiest way would be to ask someone who speaks your language and has a facial difference, but I'm aware that not everyone has that possibility - still, it could be a good idea to reach out to your local disabled community if you're able to. Or just ask on whatever social media is popular where you live!

You can also send us what is the language that you're having this issue in - despite the blog being very America-centric and English-only, a lot of us speak different languages and might just happen to know the one!

Second question:

First thing I'll address is that cleft palate and cleft lip are two separate things. They are often lumped together because they very often co-exist together, but a person could only have one of them.

Cleft palate hasn't, AFAIK, been referred to as a harelip anywhere, so I'm going to assume the question is about a cleft lip.

There's a few options as to what you can do here, in my opinion;

you describe the cleft lip without using any specific term (“they had an opening/a faded scar on between their upper lip and their nostril”);

the character calls it by the medicalized term* because that's what their doctor has told them, and they could mention how awkward/long/difficult to say/no one knows what it is/etc. the word is;

the character is self-aware and points out that the term “harelip” is weird as hell to say about a person when someone refers to it as such;

or, again, you make a word up. The word “lip” probably has to stay for clarity's sake, but try to replace the animal part with something: cleft, split, parted, fissure, opening, etc.; You can also check how other terms with “cleft” are called in your language: cleft chin, cleft palate, cleft hand/foot, etc.;

or you can make up a word fantasy-writer style and describe a cleft lip but give it a completely new name that fits the setting more - [Name]'s lip, [Some sort of deity]'s blessing, you can kinda do whatever (take a look at the Terms That Suck guide below first though!).

*my go-to way of finding the medical term is going through English Wikipedia (yeah, I know, but it works for this) and switching the language to the one I need. The cleft lip and palate page has 55 languages, so there's a chance it's on there - if it is, you might potentially find a nicer synonym in the “other names”.

Now for my (very personal) guide on catching if a term Kinda Sucks because doctors have some... tendencies in how they name various conditions:

does it use a word that is just a synonym for evil, or otherwise immoral or broken?;

does it have an animal connotation? (hares, wolves, elephants, fish... there's so many...);

does it have a monster/fantasy creature connotation? (i.e., Donohue syndrome being called leprechaunism, Hypertrichosis being called Werewolf disease, etc.);

does it just sound rude? (my native language uses the word “maw” to mean cleft palate, which I find to be fucked up);

is it straight up racist and/or xenophobic? (like most of the historic words for syphilis were just “[nationality] disease”).

There's obviously nuance to everything (“vitiligo” is considered neutral, despite being derived from the word for “blemish” in Latin) but as a vague framework I find these to be useful. Again: what feels good or neutral will probably be the better option over “animal face disease”.

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

[merrivia]

I feel like one of the things I enjoy most about the Captive Prince trilogy is where you really glimpse the hidden complexity of the books, those flashes of the engineering under the bonnet which Pacat only allows us glimpses of, here and there. There’s so many moments like that, but I feel like the idea of Auguste as a protector and Laurent’s hero-worship of his brother, has particularly stuck with me and made me want to delve into it more today.

We know Auguste is quite a bit older than Laurent; Laurent was 13, and Auguste 25, when he died at Marlas (Pacat loves her doubling and mirroring; it’s no coincidence to Laurent’s developing feelings for him, that Damen is a mirror image of Auguste in many ways, and symbolically 25 at the start of Captive Prince, like a dark resurrection, living the life Auguste should have had in Laurent’s eyes). We know that Auguste is a doting older brother; allowing Laurent to win against him when they horse raced, that they had brotherly discussions over sexuality and relationships, August giving Laurent advice (sweetly, we can assume Auguste also gave him The Talk, and that Laurent no doubt explained primly that thank you but he had already read all about That). We know that Laurent idolised Auguste, and that it was common knowledge that the two were “devoted” to each other. Even in the mind of the reader, Auguste seems special and golden; we know so little about him, and yet we love him too, especially for how much he loved Laurent. We know that tragically, Damen’s killing of Auguste, metaphorically killed Laurent also- his heart broken by the loss of Auguste compounded with the killing off of his childhood, all of his innocence, and the locking away of all the softer sides of himself, as he is abused and manipulated by his uncle.

I think a particularly heartbreaking part of it all is the rumour of Laurent having unnatural feelings for his brother.

Obviously, the source of this was the Regent, and it goes without saying that the Regent’s corruption is so malignant, that he invented this rumour to take the cleanest, purest love in Laurent’s life and turn it into something disgusting, to undermine Laurent psychologically, to disrupt his grieving process and to manipulate the political landscape. As soon as that rumour was floated, whenever it was, to grieve too much too openly, to try to honour his brother’s memory in any public way, would feed into the rumours of incest (and I am sure the Regent liked the neatly villainous irony of the fact that it is he who had the incestuous desires, and he gets to displace that onto the innocent Laurent). That’s perhaps one of the reasons why Laurent’s grief turns into such rage; firstly, there is the loss, secondly, his grief is manipulated into sexual abuse but thirdly, he was never allowed to openly grieve as he would have liked. Like a wound that festers, Laurent cannot heal as a consequence.

The really tragic thing here is that the Regent got to have Auguste; he took him so completely away from Laurent, that even in death, Laurent was denied his brotherly relationship to him, to completely and utterly emotionally isolate him. The Regent in doing so, got complete control- he could subtly destabilise any hold the memory of Auguste had over the Council and court which would transfer to Laurent, and instead cleave himself to the image of Auguste. He became the only one who gets to mention the perfect golden prince, weaponising him against Laurent, using him to highlight Laurent’s shortcomings, and his own strengths. 

And poor, poor Laurent is just not completely isolated in general, which is bad enough- he also has no-one to even talk to about his brother, it seems (especially someone who he can confide in, who might be the same or similar rank as him, which is what he needs). Even before the incest rumours, that would be a fine piece of manipulation against Laurent- boys are weak and grieve and need to talk about how they feel, where men are strong and keep hold of their emotions. And so any sign of his grieving too much, would weaken Laurent further politically. The only thing that he has then, is revenge. Revenge is his grief. I think in a way, one of the reasons why Laurent could never quite beat his uncle at his own game, was not just because he always underestimated how evil he was, but also how he was always split in two- to revenge himself on Damianos is his only way of holding onto the memory of Auguste, and yet he also needs to beat his uncle, which divided his goals. Yet I also think his rage sustained him, gave him a goal to keep living, to keep training his body hard, when he must have felt so worn out and afraid and helpless against the power of The Regent. In a way, Damen has always kept Laurent alive, whether as a shadowy figure of hate that motivated him, or as a warrior guardian, powerful enough to throw a two handed sword and impale a fellow Akielon to save him or, finally, as the man who loves him and will kill to protect him.

So Laurent’s mother died, and his father paid no real attention to him, and it is clear in the novels, that Auguste’s presence was the one barrier that stood between him and the Regent. Who guarded Laurent’s bedroom door? The Prince’s Guard under Auguste? At first I wondered whether Laurent noticed his uncle’s attentions previous to Marlas; whether in subtle ways, he went to his brother for protection. But that doesn’t fit with the phrasing Laurent uses about himself as a young teenager (”think of the greenest innocent you have ever tumbled”). Incidentally, it is heartbreaking that he cannot see the idea of a youthful boy and/or himself at that age unless it’s on sexual terms; it is a reminder of how to be young for Laurent means to be sexually exploited and how the abuse traumatised him, took away his childhood, and shaped him into this razor-sharp blade of a man in the form of a beautiful prince (it also shows how insidious it is that the Regent keeps calling him a boy, to try and reduce him over and over to the abused child he controlled). So I don’t think Laurent did see it; was too young to see it. In fact, I don’t think Laurent saw what was going to happen, until the first time he was forced onto his knees by the Regent. But I wonder whether Auguste did.

Laurent does mention that Auguste is like Damen-  as Laurent says ”“He had no instinct for deception; it meant he couldn’t recognise it in other people.”. But as I have discussed before, being an honourable warrior doesn’t mean you’re stupid, and the sexual proclivities of the Veretians doesn’t quite fall into the same category as political machinations to me. Even Laurent can recognise that yes, his uncle is a paedophile, a predator, but he can’t seem to believe that the Regent would kill his own brother or kill him till there is stark evidence to prove it. It stands to reason then that Auguste may have never thought the Regent would do as he did, but that he could see the signs of his prurient interest in Laurent. 

This also might tie into Laurent being so beautiful, and how Veretian beauty standards glorify young males (from pre-pubescent onwards). He tells Damen that he has been the recipient of offers for “as long as he could remember”- a highly disturbing statement, which suggests as a minor, Laurent was sexually propositioned over and over. Auguste must have stood in the way of that, silenced the mouths of any man who dared speak about his brother like that. Perhaps just knowing that Auguste would cut the hand off of the man who touched his brother was enough to keep Laurent safe. Did Auguste actually explicitly stop the Regent abusing him, though?

If the Regent’s victims start as young as 11, then that was a few years of sexual interest he may have had in Laurent, which Auguste may have thwarted. And just like Damen wouldn’t hear of a word against Kastor, I wonder whether Auguste knew his father wouldn’t hear a word against the Regent- after all, Aleron trusted his brother’s word so much, he marched his army on to the field at Marlas instead of keeping to the security of his fortress, a tactic that made no sense and led to his assassination. We only see the court of Vere as the Regent’s court too- was he ever so open about his child pets before the death of Aleron? We know he had them, as Paschal was the Regent’s physician and tended to them (and the medical attention they might need to their too-young bodies is another layer of quiet horror), so perhaps we can assume that it was something that everyone knew about, but simply turned a blind eye to. 

My feelings are it could be either way- Auguste may have seen the Regent’s paedophilia and kept him away from Laurent instinctively, or he may have seen him openly display sexual interest and thwarted him deliberately, or he may have simply stood in the way of anyone who tried to get to Laurent and the Regent steered clear as a consequence. We will obviously never get a clear answer on this, so I think what’s more important is simply that Auguste was a barrier and how that feeds into Laurent’s beliefs. The reader can imagine that Auguste would perhaps never have said anything too openly to him about such things (beyond advice...I can picture him sternly telling Laurent to never go anywhere alone with an older man at court or to tell him if anyone said anything inappropriate him or tried to touch him), but Laurent can see that no-one dared harass him before Auguste’s death and then after...well. Abuse at night, we assume, and at Chastillon, and any number of attempts at ‘seductions’ in the day. All Laurent knows is that the abuse wouldn’t have happened had Damen not killed his brother, so in his mind, Auguste as the shining golden protector-hero is so sacrosanct that he cannot, even after all this time, truly believe or accept that Damen beat him. It’s why, when they fight in King’s Rising, Laurent says the “ludicrous” words that Auguste would have “stopped” Damen, when we all know he didn’t (yes there is the argument that 19 year old Damen had not been fighting for hours, was fresh from the sidelines, and that played into his victory, but the point is moot...). Laurent knows what he’s saying is absurd, but Auguste is perhaps semi-mythical to him at this point, this lodestar of an ideal to live up to, the ultimate white knight, brightly alive still in his mind, who would/could/should have saved him.

The Regent’s plan to kill his brother, King Aleron, must have included a secondary plan to kill Auguste, as an obstacle to the throne, even though we don’t know what that was. Damen coming along to kill him, neatly did this for him. I wonder if it added another layer to the victory over his brother and nephew killed, to finally have access to Laurent at, horrifyingly, just the right time, less than a year before true puberty would hit and the Regent’s sexual desire in him would fade. Very little of the inner life of The Regent is revealed to us, everything being layer upon layer of machinations, facade after facade, to hide his utter cruelty, but you do wonder whether this abuse of Laurent made him feel particularly gleeful. Or whether it was simply to kill two birds with one stone- to get a man (boy) underneath you is the ultimate power play, and thus the Regents gets to both enjoy Laurent’s beauty sexually, and set up a dynamic which will ruin Laurent in the present and future and allow the Regent to have a power over him that fits in very nicely to him getting the throne. It is breathtakingly cruel I think, that the ruination of Laurent on a personal level was probably secondary, a mere byproduct of a wider plan.

One of the beautiful things about Damen and Laurent’s relationship is he can talk about Auguste again, even with the memory of his death at Damen’s hands casting a long shadow between them. Laurent does this naturally, almost unthinkingly, before he even admits to himself that they’re in love. I think the reason why is Damen’s sense of morality, his pure, uprightness. As he awkwardly says in response to Laurent trying to make clear that what Govart said was a lie, he never believed that to be true. This is a man to whom incest is unfathomable, where there is no suspicion, no cynicism, no reading into Laurent’s words to try and find the incest that isn’t there because there is no smoke without fire. Laurent finally can talk about how much he loved his brother, without being dragged in the mud for it, restoring it back, openly, in words spoken out loud, to the purity it had.

[daydadahlias]

What’s your stance on the Ashton hate right now?

ok so i've gotten a few asks abt this now and i will concede and answer this one because i love the insinuation here that I can have a stance like I'm a politician or smthn <3 thank u for voting and for this platform <3

I'm also going to take the opportunity to say this is entirely my stance, not what i think everyone should believe or i think is the "right" perspective or blah blah yada yada disclaimer disclaimer. no one come at me saying I'm forcing my beliefs on you. you catch my drift. if you disagree with me, that's your prerogative and i frankly just don't care very much.

that being said <3 lock in for a jessay <3

if we're being entirely honest, I think people in the modern age - especially twitter users - actively seek out reasons to be upset. they crave drama like bees crave honey. especially when it comes to ashton tbh. the man can't breathe right without people claiming he's being problematic so I don't put a lot of stock in general in anyone's opinions of him but my own, especially bc I'm in fandom for my own enjoyment, not for anyone else's !! so it doesn't much matter to me what they think of him. i don't value their opinions!

if you'll notice, fandom is a lot about curating your own special little bubble and here on tumblr, literally no one is talking shit about ashton that i follow. it's literally just on twitter that I've seen any hate because twitter is a cesspool filled with chronically online social justice warrior bullshit :) and there's a reason I'm not on there often.

i think hate like this is just point-blank stupid because, as I've said before and I will say again, cancel culture is fucking fake ! it is literally not real and it is invented by people who have miserable sad little lives and want to self-impose their issues and hypocritical views onto others to pretend that they're doing good in the world when, in reality, they're making it that much worse!!

now, don't get me wrong, i really don't mind someone saying to their fave, "hey, this thing you said was hurtful for X reason, maybe you could consider that in the future :)" but I've already seen people saying ashton should kill himself sdfghjk so ! i don't care much for any opinion they have because they undermine their own arguments by telling people to spread kindness by spreading cruelty. it's frankly moronically hypocritical and embarrasses me every time i go online and see it.

as for the actual reason ashton's getting hate right now, i don't personally think it's as big a deal as people pretend it is. and this is getting into my own personal perspectives of things and please feel free to disagree with me on this because i know it's a Hot Take, but i can believe and support victims while simultaneously thinking that anonymous twitter allegations are mostly bullshit.

all allegations against All Time Low were entirely anonymous from a twitter user with no evidence/support/timeline (and, yeah, a random user said there were "97 allegations" but when people asked where she got that number from, she literally admitted she made it up and deactivated her account. but that didn't stop people from just fucking running with the number) and when ATL threatened to press charges for defamation, all of a sudden this anon user disappeared with no further comment. but twitter went wild - as it often does - and completely exaggerated all the actual information given.

twitter spreads misinformation like a disease. that's just the truth. and im certainly not saying all allegations that originate on twitter are fake because they aren't but i am saying that people online need to support victims at the same time that they actually start thinking critically about things. twitter acts like it's "guilty until proven innocent" instead of the other way around.

that being said, i don't personally support ATL because i didn't listen to their music before so this doesn't affect me and - if there is the chance they're abusers, i don't really want to listen to them. But that doesn't mean i tell people to turn them off if they like them or something, or tell them to stop being fans. because it doesn't affect me and i, frankly, just don't care. people need to learn that supporting the artist and supporting the art are two totally different things. you can listen to a song you like without knowing every allegation the artist has ever faced. also, if we stopped listening to every song made by a problematic artist, I'm afraid there would be very little music left.

that's where this brings me to the fact that people are throwing around insane accusations like that ashton supports rapists which is a fucking insane thing to say about a) people who arent even confirmed/charged rapists and b) over the fact he literally just played a song by them? he was DJ-ing for an emo/pop punk night? people would have been shocked if he hadn't played All Time Low??

also, I'm sorry but are you going to boycott every single person and establishment that plays one of the biggest pop-punk bands ever?? if you walk into a store and hear it playing All Time Low, will you never shop there again?? where is the line drawn?

and finally, the whole thing pisses me off because people use it as an excuse to say that they stand with victims and that ashton is actively harming victims by playing All Time Low when, I'm sorry, but no the fuck he's not ?? and, in my opinion, this is actually does MORE harm to victims than it does good? it's all just performative crap to make yourself look "woke".

and, excuse me, but what have you actually done to genuinely fucking support victims other than tell some random rich man who you don't fucking know that he should kill himself for DJing at an emo night?? using all this time to "cancel" Ashton Irwin's privileged cishet male ass could have been spent actually raising awareness about rape or helping actual real life fucking people in your community? this level of vitriol doesn't help anyone. it's pathetic.

this is just my real problem with the internet in general is that people act like hate inspires kindness and education when it does the exact opposite.

so, that being said, i just think the hate against ashton is small-minded and embarrassing. it doesn't mean anything at all. and I'm going to keep enjoying tumblr where people aren't pathetically insane (they're funny insane) and we can just learn how to fucking enjoy things because the world is too ugly right now to not find beauty in SOMETHING, goddammit! i am in fandom to have fun. not listen to people bitch and moan about their uninformed, damaging views of what social justice is.

and i will also spend my time in my real life genuinely supporting victims of assault and abuse instead of just pretending i do on fucking fandom social media.

[misschizuchi]

They are bad bad BAD guys

I'm not taking any of the posts that raise up the "Gortash is immoral piece of shit" theme personally, either they scold fans of his or defend them, but I have a thought in my head that I just want to spew out.

I'm one of those who isn't drawing nor writing things about Durge or Gortash demonstrate their immorality, I'm very into showing their softer sides and their possible care for each other. I'm also into "everyday life" of fantasy characters, so I'm fantasizing about that a lot and not about them going on a killing spree (though there is a place for that in my scenarios as well of course). Yet I do still imagine them being horrible people in terms of morality. I just think it... goes without saying? By me at least, because game said it all, of course!

Obviously Gortash is a horrible human being, no shit! That's part of his appeal as a fictional character with depth. He is interesting to dissect and when you do that, you can find him quite interesting, again, as a fictional character, not a boyfriend goal. A character that has many sides and does something in his life besides creating a brain reading machine with a talking head on top of it (I really like this invention, damn). He finds joy in regular things like all "the good guys", considers someone being attractive, funny, pleasant to talk to, listens to music and enjoys his favorite meal or whatever. Well, at least as far as I am aware he was participating in a lot a regular human shit. None of this makes him a better person though :D Oh love, such assholes stand right next to you at the supermarket, you wouldn't know.

My AU trio of rulers has cold hearts for anyone but themselves and each other. Astarion organizes evening balls for Durga's mass killing. Durga appreciates Gortash's designs. Gortash mesmerized by the power of the vampire and wants the same or more for himself, to put it roughly.

Their children are pretty close to being psychopaths for their parents are not better and allow their offspring to be just as cruel as the Chosen ones.

It's just that... well, what really can I say about it. I'm not into drawing guts anyway. Though maybe I should start talking through drawings about it at least. Playing one hell of a killer was quite refreshing lately. Many of us have our own dark urges. Liking such characters and playing as them is scratching such urge nicely and it's fine. Good even. We're not liking fictional villains because we want them in real life, but because associating with such characters is a nice way of letting off or out negative feelings, playing them out in fiction instead of accumulate negative emotions or lash out at real people. Use it as an instrument to relax if you need it. If you don't, well we do, we use it, we find joy in it. Happy to maul as many stupid 3d faces as game allows me to.

Now what do I draw to show that character is a nasty evil being?..

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌 ( 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐕 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. )

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

" it started with a simple choice, escape or die. "

" he almost killed you last time, didn't he? "

" what about me? you gotta take me with you. "

" i really didn't have a choice. "

" you haven't escaped anything unless you go on to something. "

" the first thing i noticed was the smell. "

" just like day follows night, every man succumbs to his nature. "

" you're lucky i was here. "

" maybe you're my guardian angel. "

" you can stand to eat a meal if you must, you can stand to make love if you're able, but it's impossible to stand and drink, it's the act of a barbarian, an animal at the watering hole. "

" you talk too much. "

" i walked here barefoot 'cause a guy came in my shoes. "

" people will be fascinated with your story. "

" it takes a prick to know one. "

" this is the place they were thinking about when they invented the word 'the pits'. "

" i like that you haven't asked what this is for. "

" you don't think people can change? "

" you're a good listener, it's dangerous - because it's so hard to resist being listened to. "

" what i want is to be master of my own destiny. "

" i'm sorry to have kept you so late. "

" were you gonna say goodbye? "

" there's no redemption for the likes of you. "

" he was looking pretty dead to me. "

" nothing you do will change the fact that they are gone. "

" i knew once you got my message, you'd come running. "

" i wonder what you're so guilty about that playing the hero was this important. "

" i can't go to the authorities, it's not an option for me. "

" i am a man of peace, so please do not be hurting me. "

" they almost killed me. "

" maybe i wanna feel good. "

" we're being betrayed. "

" i don't know why people can't be nicer. "

" it's always love that sends us down the rabbit hole. "

" what happened to your face? "

" i do not have friends, times like this are exactly why. "

" i think you should stop interfering with my business. "

" we have no relationship, i owe you nothing. "

" only a fool plays a game without knowing the rules first, or the other players. "

" you shouldn't be calling me. "

" ambitious men are never content. "

" it's not your fault you're weak. "

" you really need me to keep quiet, eh? "

" everything has its use by date, and everyone. "

" you can be such a child sometimes. "

" you can't spend the rest of your life refusing to care for anyone in case they leave. "

" my life isn't any man's to give or take. "

" we can compel men not to be bad but we cannot compel them to do good. "

" you have a fairly scary reputation. "

" this place means a great deal to me. "

" i can't treat it if i can't see it. "

" i didn't want to wake you. "

" will you come with me to my place? i don't wanna be there on my own. "

" there is no shame in being afraid. "

" you're a long way from home to be making threats. "

" for a man who doesn't want trouble you keep interesting company. "

" i am a businesswoman, this is the price. "

" what, so that's it? try to kill a guy and then eat ice cream? "

" what you want matters little. "

" he saw me alone and he tried to take his chance. "

" you're a hard man to find. "

" do my eyes deceive? is this a ghost? "

" what is this, are you jealous? "

" i liked it when you defended me tonight. "

" i'm beginning to think it's because you're scared. "

" you haven't said a word since we left. "

" please do not ruin my happy thoughts, your face is very... children will cry if they look at this face. "

" you don't have to suffer anything if you're strong enough to deny it. "

" i missed you. "

" it's such an arrogance to love someone and to expect it in return. "

" i never wanna be dependent on anyone else again. "

" perhaps a simple, earthy, no-strings fuck would do you a world of good. "

" just 'cause i left, it doesn't mean i don't still love you. "

" sounds like a date. "

" i'd prefer to get there alive. "

" have they hurt you? "

" where would the fun be if we all did as we are told? "

" i'm leaving you alone like this. "

" you're my friend, even if you don't want any. "

" don't forget who works for who. "

" you don't need to justify yourself to me. "

" you can hate me and still not let the tea go to waste. "

" i'm the one who will get the job of killing you. "

" loyalty comes out of love, or fear, or debt. "

" i never said i was a good person. "

" you can't blame yourself for that. "

" i am too happy you are alive. "

" you are a good man and you think too much. "

" the only thing stronger than love is the hate left behind when it's gone. "

" if you want me to beg, you will wait a long time. "

" the world has no place for me. "

" i don't think you've ever loved anyone in your life. "

" a warrior has to follow orders, even when they don't like them. "

" just 'cause i don't want you here doesn't mean i've forgotten my manners. "

" have dinner with me, just like two normal people. "

" i keep them to remember what a terrible human being i am. "

" you can love someone and do terrible things to them, all at the same time. "

" it's good to be nervous, it means it matters. "

" i think you shot me, you bastard. "

" you're fucking dying, and i'm the only thing that's gonna stop it, okay? "

" i made sure i wasn't followed. "

" i never stabbed anyone in my life, i'm not gonna start now. "

" good way to get yourself killed. "

" is this your blood? "

" how does it feel? knowing you're gonna fucking die and there's nothing you can do about it. "

" i never wanna see you again. "

" if you lie, then a crow will bite you. "

" you are the cause of my problems. "

" we need to keep you out of sight. "

" i almost had it, and then you made me forget. "

" i hate doing nothing. "

" the whole point of you staying is so that you can stay out of harm's way. "

" you're gonna bleed out, you need to stay still. "

" i have never seen so much money before in my whole life, forget all in one bag. "

" stop! they're gonna hear you! "

" you've lost the right to ever say my fucking name. "

" i've had enough of this shit, do you hear me?! "

" short version: it all went to shit. "

" a coward isn't capable of exhibiting love. "

" you'll never need to catch me as much as i need to be free. "

" every time we cage a man, we close him in with hate. "

[oceansprompts]

marvel's midnight suns | misc quotes 1

I will not be howling at the moon any time soon.

Have to say, for a haunted Transian Castle raised on the cursed grounds of Old Salem it's pretty cozy.

I really should up my homeowner's insurance.

You smell... wrong.

You know what they say. All work and no play... is how we ended up with Ultron.

We invented stealth.

I don't actually care, but they need to stop moping. So. Can they play with your dog?

Admit what? That I feel a sense of admiration and respect for a fellow teammate?

Yeah, I didn't figure someone so great and powerful would be into a book club.

You're hung up on the were-roosters... Alright, let's hear what you got.

Is this visit business or pleasure?

How’s your mental health? A good portion of this “darkness hunting” game is mental health and processing intense situations.

But, hell on Earth isn’t a garden stroll.

I’ve spent decades experimenting and putting it together. Any of ’em interest you?

I’m telling you. I don’t know what’s coming next, but I do know when the shit hits the fan with Chthon...

You’re acting like I did it for fun...

Comfortable? I’ll never be comfortable around that monster. . .

You’re turning out to be one of my favorite people. . .

Why do you think? They take vicious killers and present them as tragic and misunderstood.

It’s just... Off, somehow. I swear, the moonlight on a clear evening is too dim for this time of year...

Was your first thought about killing me?

What I’m asking is, if I lost control, would you stop me?

Let’s talk about how your mother just turned one of my best friends against us.

These people look to me for guidance, but it feels like I’m stumbling around in the dark.

Just the fact that you are willing to learn means you’re on the right track.

So how do I tell him I’m totally cool with being best pals without scaring him off...

It wouldn’t take many guards to secure the building. So the question is: What else are they doing in there?

It’s not big enough to swim laps. Its only real purpose is for lounging and soaking up the sun.

It figures she’d send you. Did she tell you I want nothing to do with it? Because I still don’t.

Every time I think I’ve got my mind wrapped around this conflict, I get thrown a curveball.

But right now? I want to let you know how proud I am to be serving alongside you and watching your leadership.

Maybe this is what we’re supposed to be doing, fighting an endless war.

What do you make of our chances to get out of this mess in one piece?

That’s an easy question with a complex answer. Tell me this–what type of leader would you follow?

I always did what I thought was right. No more, no less.

Well, not so much fish as that ginormous, invulnerable sewer monster that swallowed the Sanctum.

I’m told I can be rather persuasive when I need to be.

It’s all just starting to blur into one big giant green gamma mess…

I’m having it right now and-wait. I think… oh no. Did I feed my cat before I left?

Would you have been able to take the shot? Because I don’t think I could’ve.

I’m going to be up all night trying to make sense of it, see if it helps us find our way back into the Sanctum.

But the more I see him in action, the more I think he might be an okay dude.

I’m telling you if I have to spend one more hour scanning digital maps…

All you have to do is be ready to fight for what you care about when the time comes.

Yeah, I know. Nasty artifacts like that aren’t known for their safety features…

I have to admit, I don’t think you’d be such a formidable poker player. Yet another reason to respect you.

This is the life, licking it with the legendary Hero, and kicking said legendary Hero’s ass at a fighting game.

Believe it or not, I don’t have a lot peeps I can call friends, not close ones at least.

I feel like you get how just how heavy all that extra baggage…

Sadly, the sense of wonder eventually wears off like most things.

… Sorry if I’m ruining any romantic notions of space travel.

I’m not just my powers. Sometimes I like to take it slow…

I’ve tried blindfolds, facing away from the board, and one-finger throws. Perfect score, every time.

The forbidden nap, if you will. Mercenary work is a grab bag of awful stuff…

Because looking at it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

I can play nice all day when we’re out there kicking bad guy booty…

Uh, haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said? Money!

I forgot. You aren’t as self-aware as I am…

Well, your friends have been avoiding me like the plague…

He waved goodbye and peaced out to live a life of solitude…

[aurumacadicus]

What are you procrastinating?

Steve and Tony techy spy au?

*waves hand at... everything* Eh.

Anyway I'm feeling some okayish-dad Howard and stupid boys. But when am I not feeling stupid boys 🤔

Steve isn't about this whole... high-tech stuff. He's been doing this spy thing for years without even a smart phone. He doesn't want all these newfangled gadgets that take up space that could be filled with extra bullets instead. Sure, the key-reader had come in handy, but he also could have just kicked the door open in the same amount of time. He tries, though. He knows the world is getting more reliant on tech, and while his flip phone and motorcycle are enough for him, espionage is advancing to heights he never could have imagined. Plus, it genuinely helps that he always looks a little confused when he does anything tech-related. Most people think he's too stupid to know how to upload viruses and key loggers. He's gotten a lot more on board with it now that Tony is working in the labs, though. Tony is bright, and he always smiles wide as he explains exactly what his inventions do. So maybe Steve leans into being a neanderthal a little bit, just so he can get some extra attention as Tony makes absolutely sure he understands how everything works. His life depends on it, sometimes! He needs to know this stuff! And sometimes Tony leans in, one long line of heat against the side of Steve's body, and Steve is grateful he actually knew what Tony was talking about because all he could think at the time was 'Tony Tony Tony Tony' and he took in nothing.

Tony is, unfortunately, untouchable. Peggy is the head of the organization, but there are several others under her who wield almost as much power. Howard Stark is one of them. Steve had thought he and Howard had a pretty good rapport. They would get drinks after work, sometimes even eat lunch in the commissary together. Howard liked the work Steve did, and he also had a soft spot for older technology like Steve. They got along. But then one day, while they were taking their trays to one of the tables to sit at for lunch, someone said, "Have you seen the ass on that new guy in tech? Bet he's tight as a--" and Howard wordlessly slammed his tray into the guy's head with such force that it bounced off the table. "My son's ass is as tight as what?" Howard had asked mildly, as if he had not cracked his tray in half, and the surrounding three tables had scattered. Steve had wanted to run, too, but he'd pretended he understood Howard's reaction and how obviously he'd made the right decision. No one should be talked about like that, least of all a sub-director's son. After lunch, Steve had immediately gone to a payphone three blocks away and left all his friends messages to please god please don't tease him about how much he's talked about how sexy Tony is at work Howard will murder him Agent Malloy got a concussion please.

It's not like Steve is special, anyway. Tony is enthused about one thing only: Technology. Part of the reason he got the job was because Howard was tired of being pestered to show things to Peggy for him. Howard had cleared a path for him to force his way into Peggy's office and show off his stuff firsthand and that had been that. (Rumors said that Peggy was still aghast that Howard would allow Tony into a situation where he might be shot by his godmother, but both Howard and Tony showed a distinct lack of care for their safety, so. Maybe there was truth to the rumors.) So being an idiot about technology is the only way that Steve can get his attention. He think it's probably not the best way to endear Tony to him. Tony probably wants someone he thinks can keep up with him, anyway. Steve portrays himself as sort of a dinosaur when it comes to tech. Surely someone who didn't "need" to have things explained to him in very small words. Besides, active field agents were discouraged from serious relationships. It's always possible that they might not come back, or that their significant other would could be used against them. He wouldn't be Tony's first choice, and Tony probably had the good sense not to get involved with an active field agent. (Or if he didn't, Howard had probably scared the majority of them off. Agent Malloy had been the first creep he'd used his hands on. He hadn't been the last.)

Tony is absolutely, embarrassingly, and obviously in love with Steve. He thinks Steve is so sweet. He doesn't understand a lot of high-tech stuff, but he's so earnest when he asks questions, Tony doesn't even mind taking time from other projects to give him explanations. He wants to make sure Steve knows as much as possible so that he's less likely to get hurt. Steve has a sweet smile and he's literally heard him say 'aw, shucks.' He kinda wants to take Steve to bed and make him learn new swears. Steve's basically the only one Howard has good things to say about, too. 'He's a polite young man who would never gossip about how good his boyfriend is in bed,' he'd said. Tony... isn't actually sure why his dad felt the need to tell him that? But he appreciates it. He had his time as the college bicycle and while he's maybe not ready to settle down, he's ready to test the waters, date around. Maybe with Steve, if he could ever get Steve to catch a clue. Every time he hints at a date, Steve starts babbling frantically about someone named Agent Malloy? Tony only met him once. He thinks the guy's on medical leave, maybe. Maybe he's more Steve's type, Tony thinks in disappointment.

"...So you were just making fun of me," Tony says, hurt, after Steve has cracked the code on the digital cuffs he'd been bound with. "When you asked me how things worked." "I just liked listening to you talk," Steve admits, embarrassed, and doesn't meet his eyes. "I'd listen to you read the dictionary. You at least seemed to like talking about tech." "Aw," Tony begins, and then grabs Steve's arm and yanks him down with a scream. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" "What?! What!?" Steve shouts, but then Tony is gathering him to his chest and holding a taser threateningly. "Who are you threatening I can't see Tony oh my god." Howard adjusts his grip on the wooden beam he'd found to use as a weapon. "If I have to watch this comedy of errors for one more minute, I will beat Steve to death." "What are you fucking talking about?!" Tony splutters, at the same time Steve wails, "NO I SAW WHAT YOU DID TO AGENT MALLOY WHEN HE WAS TALKING ABOUT TONY'S ASS!" In the end, Tony has to use a prototype bondage device to disarm and bind his dad so he doesn't kill Steve accidentally club them both and Steve is so in love with him. He's so smart and beautiful and kind. "He is not kind," Howard barks from where Steve is carrying him like he weighs nothing. "Look away Tony. I don't want you getting ideas about his biceps." "It's too late. I had them the first time I saw him training newbies in the gym," Tony retorts, and Steve has to fumble around with Howard as he snarls and gnashes his teeth.

[akiitos]

Hihihiiiii

uhhh

hru :D i hope ure healthy and well (unlike me/hj)

Uhhhh anyways! If possible, could I request a Toya, Akito, Rui, and Tsukasa (separate obv) with a gn reader who literally cannot sleep with 1) something in their arms, and 2) atleast something the reader can hear (whether itd be music, a normal conversation, a tv playing, anYTHING)

Also heres two little scenarios if you have a hard time trying to figure out what to do with this request: 1) them cuddling their s/o while either singing or just talking with the reader, or maybe just a song playing or a channel going off on the tv. 2) when they get home at like 10pm they just find the reader sleeping with a squishmallow and a spotify playlist going off from their phone. Or 3) after they finish talking to someone on the phone, they go to theirs' and s/o's shared room just to find them sleeping peacefully with a squishmallow (next thing they know its because they were talking to someone on the phone)

Uhh if your requests are closed, you can just ignore this (or delete it), and if you feel as if you cant do this, feel free to once again, ignore or delete

Alright I should uhh prolly go now it's 4:20am here and I'm supposed to be awake by 6:30am (not like im gonna sleep honestly)

Alrighty, uhhh, byebhe have a nice day/night

(also im sorry if it's a lil disorganized to you)

project sekai boys x gn!reader

summary: you tend to fall asleep when you're cuddling something, and if youre listening to something!

;; hcs style

@ toya aoyagi

• you were literally SO tired but toya was over and it was insane. so you just got your favorite plush and hugged it as he left the room for a bit

• but uhhh you wanted something to be listening to aswell

• so you just got out your phone, played the shared playlist that you and him have and just shut your eyes in a soft bliss

• after a few minutes, he walked into your room and had almost no reaction-

• i mean, he was pretty suprised that you fell asleep this quick.

• he kissed your cheek and ran his cold hands against your warm body lovingly

• he tried going near you without waking you up, and probably fell asleep too tbh

• cute.

@ akito shinonome

• he knew of your habits beforehand, and didn't seem to care

• so, he wasn't suprised when you asked him to call you in the middle of the night so you can sleep

• he pretended to be annoyed, but still agreed to it anyway.

• it was like 12 am and you asked if he could talk about his day, or tell stories

• he did, and honestly...

• best experience ever. may ask again!

• if you do end up falling asleep on call with him, he'll go on mute and admire you (NOT IN A WEIRD WAY)

• he'd fall asleep after you.

• he's so ahhhhhebsnka

@ rui kamishiro

• sort of like akito, you'd mostly call/face time him if he couldn't be with you at the moment

• if he notices you cant sleep, he'll ask if you'd want to call -- if you say yes, then he'll happily obliege.

• he'll talk about anything. literally anything

• mostly about his inventions, though

• he's one of the best people to go to for this, since his voice is so relaxing. like wtf??

• if he notices you're asleep, he'll either stay on call- or hang up and send you a sweet text message.

• he doesnt mind calling you whatsoever, and actually enjoys it, since he likes having someone to rant to.

• rly helpful! 5☆ ratingg

@ tsukasa tenma

• ok. here this boy goes

• he likes buying you plushies, and everytime you sleep with them, it reminds you of him

• you like sleeping over at his house, as he likes sleeping over at your house too.

• no matter whose house, he'll be really good at talking

• he can talk about ANYTHING. when i say anything, i mean ANYTHING

• be it his sister, his life, hell- he'll even talk about you!

• when he does talk to you, he has the calm voice that soothes you to sleep

• fallen asleep already? ah, too bad, i wasnt done yet, he says as he kisses your forehead and lays down beside you

[elftwink]

every few months or so i have to reach out to someone i inexplicably stopped speaking to for literally no reason at all and in my mind this doesn't impact the nature of our relationship in the slightest (i think ive seen a post floating around on here that phrases this like "i don't have a friendship decay mechanic" and thats pretty accurate to me as well) but it is literally so scary because other people definitely can feel negatively about this complete gap in interaction and read into it my intentions (or worse when its due to memory issues do that thing where theyre like "if it was important you would remember ergo i am not important to you") and its like idk how explain that life is just moving to damn fast like to me we may as well have been talking yesterday... makes me very sad because on the one hand people have a right to feel that way and i understand that it can feel like your time is being wasted or that the other person doesn't respect you enough to get back to you (because also. some people do deliberately ignore messages for these reasons unfortunately)

but on the other hand. for me i feel like im always on the back foot because i just dont have the capacity to actually keep up with everyone, and i barely have the capacity to do the apology rounds every few months. also i hate the apology rounds because even if i have every intention of keeping up with people it always slips. i dont think i was meant to live in a world with instant messaging i think we should go back to snail mail. i would also be bad at replying to people with it but at least i would have a better excuse

also sometimes im just like i must be inventing problems when i write replies to people like an email on average takes me 4 hours or so to compose if given my own time. for time sensitive work emails it's still at least half an hour to an hour, which is also about the time it takes me to compose a text message to someone (unless i see it right away and stream of consciousness my answer without thinking then i can do it in 2 minutes but if i dont do this at the exact moment i see the text i cannot do it at a later time). during this process it feels impossible to speed up but its obviously ridiculous for two emails to take the time of an entire work day. also i have to take a break after sending an email or text like it is genuinely really draining and there is just no way it takes this much time or energy for anyone else because if it did we would have made texting illegal by now. but at the same time no single component of writing an email/text is that obviously difficult or energy intensive so im like sweating blood for hours to produce something that looks like it took 3 1/2 minutes maximum like what is wrong with meeeeeee

also no i didnt send my email yet im procrastinating by writing this post. perhaps this is also contributing to my extremely long composition times :/ ok bye everyone if i post again in the next hour and it does say "yay i sent my email" or something of the like please yell at me

[simon-x-billy]

Simon x Billy

Chapter 11: What is my hand doing?

[Gif not mine]

Prompt: Secret relationship reveal

Masterlist || ao3 || start || prev || next wip!

RECAP: When last we left our lovers, Simon was still stuck in Brooklyn for career purposes, but at least he got to tell his besties that he is A. on a panel at Comic Con for reasons; B. moving to Italy; and C. talking to someone there. That would be Billy, but the besties think it’s Billie — so that’s fun. Billy, on the other hand, has not been told about Simon’s decision to move. But at least he finally has been told when Simon is coming back to see him — in two days. Today is not that day. Tomorrow is. Until then, the pair are inventively and intuitively making use of technology to come together again. But before we can get to that, the plot thickens/deepens/moves forward. TW: Phone sex written by someone who has never had it. If this is a hideously awful embarrassment to phone sex-havers everywhere, please leave a comment, DM, whatever. Why should they have bad phone sex when they can have better phone sex? Seriously, I ask you.

Chapter 11: What is my hand doing?

———/Simon/———

Ugh, Brooklyn. (Blasphemer! I’m calling myself out and I am a-shamed.) But it's true. Brooklyn is ugh to me right now. At least the wait is almost over. Kelly finally arranged to have me sent back to Italy tomorrow night. Like a- Well, like whatever kinds of objects get sent back to Italy.

Wait.

I rewind that thought back to where I said ‘tomorrow night,’ and this time think it with a bullhorn. TOMORROW NIGHT! Hallefrickinlujah.

The fear is that she’s probably made all the arrangements necessary to have me air dropped from a moving helicopter to get back at me for announcing I’m abandoning Brooklyn. She is truly angry at me. It became particularly apparent when I asked for help with the real estate stuff. That might have been exactly the wrong thing to ask for her help with. This will require a fitting gesture of my undying admiration, and my amazement at her next level ability to put up with me. She levels up every time I breathe in her general direction.

I’m calling Billy without even realizing it.

“Hey, man,” Billy answers. “Howeyeh?” I can hear him smiling.

“Do you have plans tonight?” I ask. “Beyond sleeping, I mean.”

“Just sleepin,” Billy replies with curiosity. I can hear him yawn at the other end and it feels endearing in my stomach. Which is weird, but pleasant. “What did you have in mind?” I can hear his smile change to a sly smirk all the way from Italy.

“I want to fall asleep listening to you fall asleep,” I admit, and immediately die of cringe. Hello, creeper. It’s too late, and I can’t take it back.

“Now, see, yeh can’t just go round sayin beautiful stuff of that sort. It’s unfair, that’s what it is. Say it again.”

“I want us to fall asleep together,” I repeat. “Even if we can’t exactly be together when we do it.”

Billy makes a noncommittal sound. “Time difference is a heartless bitch, Simon. How early can yeh manage fallin asleep?”

“Well,” I pause in frustration cuz I hadn’t thought about that at all in my internal fantasy of hearing him sleep. (Creepy? Romantic? Romantically creepy? Don’t know, don’t care.)

I offer an alternative. “Wake up just for me, then go back to sleep?”

Billy snorts right about the time I realize that that’s actually kind of a tall ask. And again, possibly creepy. Or romantically creepy. “Am I creepy? Or romantically creepy?”

“It’s more romantically presumptuous, really. But I’m setting my alarm, nonetheless. Now let me alone so I can finish prepping the zeppole. Hot pillows of sweetness sent by the Lord himself.”

“Like my own hot pillows of sweetness?” I giggle. I’m giggling.

“Er,” Billy begins. After a moment’s consideration, he clears his throat. “You bake?”

———/Billy/———

“Will yeh be wantin a tour guide and a driver for Pompeii, then?” I ask the pair before me, tryin not to yawn into the late afternoon sun as I count out the change for their beach chair rental. No less than 70, if they’re a day.

“Why? You think we can’t find our way ourselves without them? We’re more than capable, young man,” says the missus. I can see she’s just windin up for a tongue lashing. Grumpy in the mornings, could be.

Grumpy.

I head her off at the pass, picking up the beach bar’s ancient phone with a finger poised to dial. “Not in the least, not in the least. But I guarantee you’ll get more out of it with a guide to show you all the secret corners, peek inside the archaeologists’ tents, tell yeh the local lore and the wisdom of the ages.”

She relaxes. Guaranteed it was the ‘wisdom of the ages’ bit what did it.

“Ah, go on. Let me call the front desk. They’ll arrange for everything.”

“I can arrange for everything my-” she begins, pugnacious as ever.

“Martha,” the man says softly with his hand on his wife’s back. “Let the boy do his job.”

Bright eyes, big smile, Delaney. Simon would be proud of my Guest Services face, and then demand I’m lying about never attending theatre school. I hmmm inaudibly to myself.

Shocked am I, the whole thing is managed entire without another objection, and the mulish Martha and her man are sat there happily installed on their beach loungers.

Oh, Lord. Here comes trouble. “It’s to be that sort of day, is it?” I grumble.

At the very least, I have fair warnin as I can hear the trouble comin. The soft tinkle of bells at her toes announces her arrival. “Well if it isn’t the lovely and mysterious Sabina. Docked the barge, have yeh.” Land ho.

“It’s Billy, isn’t it.” Not a question. Lovely.

“More a ‘he’ than an ‘it.’” Get your pronouns right, miss.

She doesn’t deign to acknowledge my comment. I’m to be ‘it,’ then. Is she offensive on purpose, or does it just come naturally? Perhaps she’s simply gifted that way.

“To what do I owe the honor, my dear?”

“Instructions,” she says with a coolness that verges on frostbite. “For a party next Saturday night. You will come out to the boat as my guest,” she informs me, and tips her head to the side as she gauges my reaction.

Is she- I mean, she wouldn’t be- askin me out? Never.

“Bring Simon as your +1.”

“He’s the +1?”

“You be the +1 if you like that position better.” Her monstrously oversized sun hat casts shadows across her tip to toe, straw letting through tiny, bright dots of light that shift as she shifts. Just as the day I made her cheerful acquaintance.

Has it really only been two weeks? Really? That can’t be right.

“Greta will text Kelly the details, technicalities, all that,” she informs me. Kelly is Simon’s PA, so I’m assumin Greta’s her own.

“Kelly? You know Kelly.”

“Of course. She’s Kelly. People know this about her.” She waves away the question as if it’s both beneath her and boring.

“Sabina, has anyone ever described you as a piece of work? I’m meaning a work of art, acourse.”

She lowers her sunglasses and without cracking the slightest smile, winks at me. Well fuck me sideways.

“How did you know?” I ask, takin my opportunity where I find it. “It’s been botherin me ever since your show. You well knew the party was at a pan club. Why us? Tellin the two of us to come. What did you see in Simon and me that told you somethin would happen?”

Ignoring my question, she floats onto a barstool and flips her curtain of glossy, black hair behind one tanned shoulder.

I put back on my Guest Services face. “Something to drink? Might enjoy an espresso, biscotti,” I offer.

“No. I will not eat,” she informs me.

“Then what can I do for yeh, my dear?”

“Come next weekend. Another birthday party. They happen every year,” she says, lackadaisically. “The house. The boat. You know how it is.”

“Do I?”

“Maybe you don’t.”

She never answered my question, and I’m of a mind to persist. “We’ll consider it, if yeh answer me. Why did you tell us about your show in Naples? What did you see in the pair of us? How could you have known, when even we didn’t?”

“Billy.” She places her hand over mine. I use wiping down the bar as a reason to casually free it again. Watching my reaction over her absurdly large sunglasses, she gloats almost imperceptibly. “Make me a bellini.”

Sabina taps her fingernails on the bar top and takes the opportunity to study me as I pull out the peach purée. I add the sparkling prosecco and place the drink in front of her, giving her an arched eye caterpillar.

She tips her head toward me and says, “All right. I’ll tell you. Simon, you know he’s from New York.”

I nod.

“We know the same people,” she says as if that explains anything.

“And?”

“And from the cafe I saw Simon Lewis sitting in my marina.”

“Your marina?”

She bats the question away. “Of all the times Simon and I have wound up at the same parties, I’ve never seen him look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”

Fuck me.

She continues, “He wanted me to go away, deeply. Who could make Simon want such a thing? So I thought I’d have a little experiment. Nothing outrageous.” She smirks. “You couldn’t take your eyes off him. But he practically pissed a circle around you.”

“Not at all. He spent the whole time dealin with you, my darlin. And if anything, it was me as was sat there doin the pissing. I didn’t much care for the way you spoke to him.”

She laughs low. “Your expression gave you away, you know. The kiss was a test; a simple one.”

“Then what if we hadn’t been, I don’t know, swept up in the whole thing that night?” I challenge her. “What would have happened then?”

“Does it matter? Were you? Swept away? The right music at the right moment can make anything happen.” She dismounts with the tinkling of tiny bells, bellini untouched.

Before she reaches the hotel elevator, Sabina calls back over her shoulder, “Oh and Billy. Dress for Capri.”

Ah. Understood. I take a deep breath. “I’ll do the best I can.”

She nods, and departs without a word.

“Lovely to see you, too,” I mutter.

———/-/———

It’s Wednesday? I thought yesterday was Wednesday. Fuck me, an extra day. Life drags on at a snail’s pace.

Opening photos, I realize Simon’s face was the last shot I took that wasn’t of my genitals. It’s of him in the tunnel, moments before we entered the club. All bold, confident, and full of excitement, with not a clue of the direction the night would take.

When I look at him, I’ve no idea who I am anymore. I’ve never really been that certain to begin with, in all honesty.

For a man without a rudder, I’ve never needed to know who I am. Just all the whos I’m not. Not a father, not a son, not a brother, not a bother.

Alfie tells me I’m the best of friends. Cheers, mate. Nice to hear, but I’m not sure I believe it overmuch. Not when I’ve never stuck round long enough to be a good friend to anyone.

I’m a nomad. And I hate it.

I’ve only just realized that I hate it. Before Italy, before this glorious place, I’d have described my life as Freedom. Carefree, exciting, mind-broadening, instructive, adventuresome, even a right good time. But as I feel all these words strung together in my mind, I realize they’re all empty and meaningless, when it’s clear I’m the one who’s strung together. Like stringing lights about a Christmas tree. Invariably there are big holes crying out to be filled. Gaps with nothin big enough to fill them. That’s me — gaps big enough for a man to fall through. Never to be heard from again.

For certain, not a sole Delaney has ever noticed I’ve gone. Isn’t that just grand. All the times I’ve lived under one roof or another, time done for what? Some stories told over a pint at Christmas. And not the funny kind.

“Remember that cousin Billy?”

“Oh sure’n let me see now. He was the one as had the curly hair, yeah? Nice fella.”

Or the older generation? They might say, “Oh that Billy, he always was such a helpful young man to have round the house when somethin needed seein to. So helpful. Can’t remember the sound of his voice or the colour of his eyes, but he sure was helpful. Cryin shame we never had a good place to put him when it was our turn.” Sure’n that’s what they’d say.

Oh, shit. Must remember to ring Shazza and wish her a happy birthday.

———/-/———

“Vittorio, buongiorno,” I say as I enter his office.

Rosalina has just been to fetch me from the kitchen, where I’d been losing myself in the mundanity of prep work.

Problem is, I’ve also been gettin lost in too many mental images from the weekend. Just couldn’t clear my head. All good, so good.

It was all so good until Simon’s phone lit up like a christmas tree, and everything hit a wall. Just bam! Face first. A wall. (Shaped like a woman named Kelly, presumably somewhere in New York.)

It’s his career, Delaney. Quit thinkin what yer thinkin. It’s just God punching us in the nads with fate, as Simon would surely say.

Thing is, I do feel as though I’ve been punched in the testicles. I do. And I’m not sure what’s makin me feel worse — the testicles or the fact that we said goodbye immediately after my life was rocked on its foundations.

Am I bi? Never figured I was before. Does that mean I’m not? I love makin love to a woman. So, not gay per se. But not entirely straight, neither. How could I be?

So, bi?

Bein bi would explain Simon’s sudden appearance on the short list of people who’ve ever made me come that hard. Does that make me bi?

“Beelee!” The hearty voice of Vittorio greeting me snaps me out of yet another reverie. With that big-loving smile, kisses to the cheeks, an arm round the shoulder, he makes me feel welcome, and he knows how to make me feel useful. Helpful. Good at what I do. And like I contribute to this little family he’s built in his kitchen.

My smile stretches wide. Not just because I feel like smilin, but more because he deserves all the smiles. “Vittorio, you are a gentleman and a scholar.”

He laughs with a boom. “Si, certo!” Yes, obviously.

“Certo,” I agree, and indeed it is obvious. He’s wise, and kind. I hate getting attached. But I’ll hate saying goodbye to Vittorio. Ah, fuck. I’m attached. It’s too late.

“Come, Beelee. You will sit with me,” he says, opening the doors out to his private garden patio, and motioning me past. He picks up a sweating pitcher of the homemade lemonade they call limonata, made and bottled here in one of the orchard’s outbuildings. If sunlight had a taste it would be Vittorio’s limonata.

“Beelee,” he begins, once we’ve settled in. He looks out at the view and sighs. “The year you are with us is coming near to end,” he says with the most marvelous Northern Italian accent. “You are considering this with much thought, yes?” He leans back comfortably and sips his limonata in a motion he’s likely developed over decades in that chair with this view. Quite a place to talk business and no mistake.

His words finally penetrate my addled brain. “Have I thought of movin on?”

“Si,” he nods.

Movin on.

No, I have not been considering with much thought. But maybe I should. He’s right. It’s only a couple months off, innit. I’ve barely kept an eye on the goings-on in the culinary world since I arrived in Sorrento. And that is curious.

It’s curious, as every other country I’ve been I've always seen as a gig. Workin to live, yes acourse, but livin to expand my ability, my craft, my creativity, along those veins. Finding the joy in learning the tempo of life in each place. I have loved almost all of my gigs, and enjoyed the environs as much as time allowed. And yet I’m always counting down the days, weeks, and months, months, weeks, and days, well before the end for each city. Until now.

I love Vittorio. Adore him. Both as a mentor and as a man. He is a good man. Solid. Steady. Fiercely loyal and protective of the hotel family he’s built. He may have been born in the North well away from the water, but after all this time he has come to be a man of the South. Its cliffs, the sea, the vertical living with stairs to get anywhere. This is his home. Yes, he was born in Siena, but he chose to live his life in Sorrento. He chose this place to plant his roots, and settled in to live his best life.

I long to live that dream somethin awful. Some sort of permanence in this temporary life of mine. A life I could build, myself. A place of choice. A family of choice. Finding my tribe. And holding on to them. Holdin on for as long as I’m allowed to keep ‘em.

Vittorio looks at me with those intuitive eyes of his. “Qua cosa? What thing is so bad to make your face is falling?” He pretends his face has fallen to his lap to illustrate. “You are having sadness?”

“I haven’t thought much about leaving, to be honest,” I admit.

“You fall in love with Italia, I think. In you I see this, each day a little more, a little more. I am thinking the thoughts that you I should send to Firenze. You learn to cook in the North. It is, come se dice, how you say, molto bene very good y diferente with the Campania kitchens of us here.”

“Si, si, I’d like to learn the northern cuisine.” I can barely get my mouth to shape my next words. “Before I leave Italy.”

“Si. O posso Venezia. Pero non sera ristauranti che va bene.”

I laugh at such a sweeping statement of negativity from this man. “There are no good restaurants in Venice?”

“If there was good ristaurante, I send you to there. But Roma.” He rolls his r with gusto and passion for the eternal city. RrrrrrrOmmmmma. “Roma? Si, son ristauranti with the goodness I demand for to send you to there.” He nods thoughtfully. “Stefano, si.”

“Stefano Rossi?” Jaysus, good enough?

“O in Toscana, to Rodolfo.”

“Rodo Molinaro?” For serious?

“Si.”

Before I can bleat about these two utter gods of Italian cuisine, he interrupts me. “Or we take you from Italia and make you in France. Parigi - what you are calling Paris? Provence? You stay on the Mediterraneo you try Nice, la Riviara Franca.”

At least the French Riviera is just down the coast. (And that’s my first thought? How close I’d be to here?)

I try to interject, but he continues. “O in Spagna. I am having the very strong thought of Barcellona. O Siviglia. O to where you are calling Switzerland — Lucerne. You like Lucerne?”

“I’ve never-“

“You think with deeply careful thought of these places. I have thought very strong and with time that is long and full of care. These are the places you consider.”

“Vittorio. You are a dear, dear man and I cannot think of a suitable way to show how very much gratitude I have for you.”

“But your face is not a face of a man is happy,” he observes. “You are disappointing with these choices I give you?”

“No! Never, Vittorio. Not ever. I would joyfully live in every one of these cities! Florence, Rome. Paris, Nice. Barcelona, Seville. Lucerne. All of them.” Or none.

————/Simon/————

“I’d be in the air already, but I have to fit in one last fake fight with Kelly before I go. I promised to take her to brunch so we could fake-fight in person.”

“Let me guess, ‘It’s kind of your thing.’ Seems to me I’ve heard that one before,” Billy snarks into the phone. He sighs in defeat. “I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but I think I’m jealous.”

“Oh yeah? Why? Literally dying to know the answer.”

“How long do I have to wait?” he asks, sounding greedy.

“For what?”

“Before I can have you again,” Billy growls, in a tone he’d surely describe as naughty. Or at least I would describe it as naughty.

“With your moans in my ear, breath hot against my throat,” he continues. See? Naughty.

“Billy.”

“Simon.”

“Billy. What are you doing?”

“Hearing that sound you made when I licked a stripe up your neck, still salty with sweat from the club.” His voice is all gravel, low and rumbly.

“You don’t fight fair,” I whine. But in an appealing, sexy way.

————/Billy/————

I like that impatient sound. “I wish this was your hand,” I say, trying to keep the grin out my voice.

“What? W-what is my hand doing?” I hear Simon swallow at the other end.

“That twist you did — it’s like you read my mind: How to wank Billy Delaney.”

I don’t have my hand anywhere close to my cock. I just love gettin to hear him all flustered.

“Uh, um, Billy? Are you having solo phone sex right now? Is that what you’re doing? Cuz I gotta tell you-“ he breaks off.

“What do you have to tell me, Simon?”

Silence.

“And make it good,” I rumble.

“Jesus Christ, Billy.”

“No, just Billy.”

“Funny,” he responds dryly. Which acourse makes me smile. It’s the combination of exasperation, frustration, and libido all fighting for their turns to spring out his mouth.

“Is it? I thought we were gettin someplace, Simon.” I pitch my voice as low as it will go. “Someplace good.”

He lets out a whimper, then all I hear is rustling. Something clatters on a hard floor. Simon gasps, “Shit!” followed by, “Oh, thank God,” then somethin else falls with a thud. I hear shuffling in the background and angry muttering.

“Simon?”

“Wait, wait, hang on just a-“ I hear a jingling of bells, and then the sound of street traffic. People in conversation getting closer and fading away. Sirens. Loud sirens. I hear the tell-tale sound of his Converse slapping on pavement, accompanied by rapid breathing and some mumbled curses. “Come on come on come on!” I hear him whisper.

“Ey! I’m walkin here!” he says loudly, away from the phone. Followed swiftly by an angry, “Yeah, fuck you too, buddy,” under his breath. I feel as though I’m listening to every film about New York ever made.

“Hang on, just a sec,” he huffs faintly, as if the phone isn’t at his ear. I hear the jingling of keys. Everything he does is suddenly amplified, all with a strange, hollow ambience. A few loud, echoing footsteps later, and again I hear the sound of keys scraping into a lock.

“Where are you?” I ask.

“Closer to my bed than I was five minutes ago,” Simon answers. “Not there yet.”

“Where were you five minutes ago?” This is pure gold.

“The bodega on the corner.”

“Serious?” I laugh. “Why’d you turn round?”

“Fuck you, Billy.”

“Not yet.”

I hear him trip over something. The phone clearly just went thud on carpet, and I hear a distant voice, swearing, “Where are you, fucking bastard.” His voice gets closer and closer. “Oh thank fucking Christ. I thought I broke my phone. Oh my sweet baby, an angel at one ear, a devil at the other.” He pauses as he shuffles whatever’s in his hands. “Billy? You still there?”

“Oh, I’m here, Simon.”

“Ok, start talking dirty again.”

I blink.

And we’re both laughing. “I like that you make me laugh,” I tell him.

“I like that you talk dirty. Can we go back to that please?”

“You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine?” I tease.

“What does that even mean?”

“Where are you, Simon?”

“Standing at the base of my bed.”

“Naked yet?”

He chokes, “What?”

“Just wonderin. Set the scene for me, Simon.”

“Theatre school, I’m telling you, theatre school.”

“You’re thinking about theatre school at a time like this.”

“Not even a little, when you sound like this. Jesus, Billy.”

“Where are you now?” I keep my voice fluid.

“Oh! Um, not where I was a minute ago the last time you asked. No, not still there,” he says.

“Naked yet?” It all started out as a gag, but I’ve become increasingly invested in his answers.

“Shoe-less. But I’m working on it.”

“Let me hear you take off your shirt.”

“Okaaay. How?” he asks in confusion. “Shirts aren’t loud. Am I supposed to rip it?”

“You like the shirt? Cos I want to hear all the buttons popping off.”

I didn’t think he’d do it, but I clearly hear the sound of buttons set free, pinging off every surface.

“Button fly again tonight?” I ask, thinking back to how easily his jeans came undone with just a flick of his hand.

“Not tonight.”

“Let me hear the zipper when you pull it down.” I hum as I hear the zzzzzz.

“Did you hear it?” he asks, voice turning gruff.

“I didn’t think I would, but that was hot.” I thought I was teasing, but now I know I’m not. “Let me hear the material slide down your legs. Slowly, Simon. Don’t rush it.”

His phone amplifies the rustle of fabric sliding over skin as though my ear is right there. My eyes slip shut. I can picture the material being pulled slowly over his hips, revealing the V of his muscles there, then catching on the swell of his arse. Sliding over that magnificent arse. Fuck, when he runs, I bet it bounces. And the image makes me groan.

“Mmm, that sounded good,” Simon nearly purrs. He’s gone from 1 to purring in under 3 seconds. “Did it feel good, Billy?”

“Yer man’s got game then, has he?” I challenge him.

“You haven’t answered my question, have you, Billy.”

“Is the secret just to work my name into every sentence? Cos I’ll be honest with yous. It’s doin it for me.” I need more than this. Without preamble I switch us to FaceTime.

“Rude!” he squawks.

“Are you offended, Simon?” I set up the angle for him to watch. He’s gone silent. Turns out I’m clothed enough for some suspenseful stripping of my own. His face is priceless.

————/Simon/————

Merp.

—————/Billy/—————

I watch as his eyes go dark, and his expression turns unselfconscious. Hungry.

I’m more’n likely to show him whatever he wants to see, though it can be hard to actually ask for it. “What and where, Simon?”

“Mmhm that sounds nice,” he says absently.

“Nice.” That’s not what I’ve been goin for. Seems his thoughts are a mite preoccupied. “Do you know what I want to do to you the minute I see you?” I challenge.

“Um. No?”

“I am going to strip you bare after Customs if you stop for any reason except to walk straight to me.”

“You’ll be there at the airport?”

“And I will strip you bare. Right there at Customs. Don’t test me, Simon. After you’ve landed? If I see yeh doing anything?” I prompt him.

“I’ll come straight to you,” he says on a whisper.

“That’s right you will. And the moment we reach the car, I’ll press you against it, undo your jeans, and wrap my hand round you, with just enough firm pressure.”

He whimpers.

“What do you like, Simon? Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

“What I-“ His eyes go blank. “Merp.”

So I continue. “Then I’ll tell you what I want from you when I get you back to the hotel.”

He whimpers again.

“I want you to strip me slowly, make me impatient. Because I’ll be dying to have you fast. I’ll have been waiting for you, wantin to take you in that tiny car, wanting to feel all of you, and lay you down. But-“

“But she’s too small,” he whispers, getting into it a bit more.

“I’d bend you over the bonnet, but you won’t let me.”

“I won’t?”

“No Simon, you won’t. You’ll tell me the fuckin luggage can wait, and you’ll drag me to your room.”

“I’ll be dragging you?” he asks, sounding confused.

“Just go with it. You’re breaking my flow.”

“Sorry,” he whispers with a grimace.

“Shhh.”

“Ok.”

“Shhh. Hear me. I’ll want to drag you to bed instantly, but you won’t let me. You tell me to slow down. Take my time.”

“Take your time? We’ve gone a whole week without each other. How much more time will we need? Are we even naked yet?”

“Shhh, Simon. See it. See me in agony, desperate for every second I can have with you again. I’ll start at one end of your body and work my way to the other. Those runner’s legs, God. All that skin up, up, following my hands with my lips, lettin the hair slide across my mouth between kisses. Show me where my lips are, Simon.”

His breath catches. “Jesus, Billy.”

“Do you want to see how close my mouth will be? I’ll show you. Watch where I start, Simon, just here. See me.”

He lets out a high puff of air. His breath rate has picked up. So has mine.

“I’ll stop and kiss here.” I circle the spot. “I want my mouth on you, Simon. The soft, warm spot behind your knee you’ve never thought about until I became the first person to tongue you there. Or here,” I whisper, drawing my hand up my inner thigh. I have one thought and one thought only: get this next shot right.

I bring the camera round, laying back to give him the long view up my body.

“Mmmfm, you have a wet spot in your briefs,” he says in a huskier voice. He’s finally getting out of his own way.

“Do you know why, Simon?”

“Why?”

“Because all I can think about is running my lips over all of this skin,” and I draw my fingers slowly up to where my thighs meet. He lets out a high breath. “Show me, Simon. Show me where my lips are.”

The image on the screen swings wildly around, showing bits of lightly furred leg, the color of his sheets, confusing body hair, and the paint on the ceiling. He grunts as he repositions himself. Suddenly, the image is swinging around to show me the path up his knee and I get an eyeful of the long view he’s giving me.

“Mmmmm, do you know what I see, Simon?” All that flesh leadin to the sight of a cock and balls from below, snug in a pair of boxer briefs, lookin monstrous huge from this vantage point.

“Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, I know ex’ex’exactly what that l’looks like.”

“Draw your hand up the inside of your thigh for me. Let me watch it, your phone followin behind the whole way up.” I give him an example to inspire him. “Tell me when to stop, Simon.”

A high moan escapes him. “W’when do you want to stop?”

“Never.”

He groans. “Take off your briefs, Billy,” he instructs me, feeling bolder. “Now.”

I smile to myself. That’s the spirit.

“For you, anything, Simon.” And I realize I actually mean that. I probably would do just about anything he told me to.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he asks me. “The wet spot just got bigger.” He sounds terribly proud of himself, and continues with more confidence. “Oh shit, your cock just got bigger, too. God, I can see the tip peeking out of your waistband.”

I steadily reveal every millimeter until he can see the full head. “Oh God. Billy.”

“I want you naked and fucking your hand, Simon, now. Let me watch.”

Simon whines.

“Naked, Simon. Then hand.”

Again, his high puffs of breath turn into a whine. But the moment I fist my cock, Simon’s voice drops two registers — as if he knows this is the moment we really get started. He’s saying, “I want to see the tip poke out of your fist, see you drawing the hood back as you stroke.”

“Fuck yes, Simon.”

“Closer,” he demands.

I moan at the thought that he wants to see it up closer. That an eyeful doesn’t send him runnin for covers. But no, he’s enjoying being in control.

“What does your other hand really want to be doing?” Simon rumbles. “When it’s not holding the phone, what’s it holding? Or fondling? Or sliding over. Show me, Billy. Show me what you do when you’re alone.” It’s a command, not a request.

I let out a long stuttering breath. “Simon, I think you might be quite good at this. Given some more practice,” I say, as I try in vain to get my phone under control. I need a place to prop it so I can use both hands. Finally, driven by the agony of frustration, I set the phone against a pillow at the right angle and kneel with knees spread wide.

“Oh fuck shit fuck,” comes straining out of him, and he’s fully stroking himself in earnest. “Nhhhh, Jesus Billy.”

What’s he on about? I look down at myself and visualize the view from that angle. Oh God. “You, too,” I grind out. “Want to see you too.”

He gives me what I want. Lord, that is a filthy fuckin sight from that angle. My hips punch my cock through my fist and I cradle my balls.

“Fuck yes,” he moans. I look down and find just how much precome I’m dripping. I hitch my hips closer to the camera and splay my legs wider. “Oh Jesus Billy fuck,” he gasps at the sight.

“Show me,” I tell him. He takes a screenshot and turns the phone round to show me. “Show me on you, Simon.”

“Oh, right,” he breathes.

“Faster,” I tell him. “Let me hear you.”

“What makes you come, Billy? Mmmmmfffwant to see it up close,” he groans.

I reframe the phone, but the sight from this distance has got to be brutal.

“Oh Jesus, Billy,” he huffs, then “Oh God,” comes out with an urgent tone. I’m flyin in and out my fist, yet somehow he can see it all.

“No, don’t stop,” I complain as his hand stutters to a stand still. He puts the phone down on the bed below him, and squats just over it. It’s an intense view. “Oh God, Simon. That is obscene.”

“Now you,” he instructs. “I want to see both hands better.”

I try to angle more carefully so he can see more cock and less balls.

“Oh fuck,” he says in surprise. “Right there, yes. No, too far, bring it back, bring it back - stop! Perfect. Show me.”

“That’s,” I grate out, “my line.” Oh God, I feel the sensation begin to build. “Simon- Si’ nhhhh, I’m- are you-“ I can’t think.

“Yes,” he grates out, followed by a strained, “Fuuuuuck!” I’m glad he’s as close as I am. I want to see him tip over the edge while he’s watchin me do the same.

I’m fucking panting, every breath I force out comes back in gasps. “Oh God yes,” I whisper. “Simon.”

“Me, too, me, too, oh fuck yes fuck. B’Billy?”

The look on his face is all shock and awe, then all I can see filling the screen is the head of his cock pulsing spurts of come landing somewhere outside the frame.

Ho shit. Fuck fuck fuck, the heat blooms throughout my body in warning. “Oh God, fuck Simon, fuuu, can you see? I want you- watch-“ I call out nonsense. I can only focus on the rush I feel throughout my body. I come in full view of the phone and my knees buckle.

Rolling to my back and still panting, I try to remember my name and country of origin. But “Simon,” is the only word I can find.

————/-/————

Masterlist || ao3 || start || prev || next wip!

————/-/————

[angel-anachronism]

Could you do a Mischa Bachinski x Gn reader having to do with them picking out Halloween costumes????

Of course! Halloween might be over, but I will still write this since it sounds cute! The fanfic didn't come out really amazing, so sorry about that. I also wrote from the perspective of (Y/N), because why not.

Anyways, hope you're having a wonderful day/night anon!

(TW: none!)

word count: 1088 words

Spooky month! (MISCHA BACHINSKI X READER HALLOWEEN ONESHOT)

(𝓨/𝓝)'𝓢 𝓟𝓞𝓥

It was Halloween, one of my favorite holidays of all time. The time of year when you see people carving jack-o'-lanterns, kids trick-or-treating for candy, and most obviously, making or choosing a costume to wear.

I am no longer a child, so I can't go trick or treating without getting weird glares from those snobby old people, so what better thing to do than dressing up as either a monster or a movie character, and scaring random children walking by!

That sounds like a fun idea! I should invite someone to also dress up as something, and then we can scare little kids! My genius is sometimes terrifying, I have to admit.

I got out of bed and walked around my room, trying to think of who I should call. My phone began ringing its annoying tune, and so I picked it up, to see who was calling me. I smiled as I saw that the person who was calling me was none other than my boyfriend, Mischa.

We first started dating a few months ago, when he revealed his feelings for me on a youtube comment section. Many people probably saw it, but I don't mind.

Surprisingly, he lived in the same town as me, which made it a hundred times better, and I even transferred to the same school as him and joined the choir, so that I can talk to him more.

I answered and I got so overjoyed when I heard his voice. "Wassup babycakes! I know there's this holiday that you Americans and Canadians celebrate called Halloween, and I wanted to spend this Halloween with you if you don't mind!" I can imagine him blushing from the other side of the screen, and I began smiling.

"Of course, my mishka! I would love to spend my Halloween with you!" I responded in excitement. "We should totally dress up as characters from horror movies!"

"OH HELL YEAH!" He yelled loudly, and I heard a door opening and a voice saying lowly "Quiet!" to Mischa. Mischa muttered a small "Sorry", before the other voice slammed the door.

I felt sorry for Mischa. He told me the story about how he had to leave his mother and move here to Uranium, only to be shunned by his new parents. If only I could help him move out of that hellhole, I would.

"Ignore that. Let's go meet at the thrift store so that we can get some costumes for really cheap." Mischa said. I tried smiling, but I was still upset at how his parents treated him.

"Okay then, Mischa. Let's meet later outside the thrift store, K?"

"Okay, babe! See you later!"

I finally arrived at the Thrift store. I was waiting nervously for my boyfriend to arrive. He finally arrived, and we both hugged each other.

"Yoooooo babycakes, how are you!" He asked as we did the secret handshake that we invented.

"I'm good, now that I'm with you. How 'bout you?" I asked. "I'm 'ight." He responded back

"Let's enter the thrift store so that we can find a costume," I said, and we both entered the thrift store.

Here we were met with a lot of clothes, antique objects, old toys, and many more. What caught our attention was the Halloween section of the thrift store. We basically ran to that section and began looking for costumes for us to wear.

"Oooh, Zombie student! What if one of the members of the choir turned into a zombie, they would surely wear something like this!" I said as I showed Mischa the costume, which was basically a ripped-up St. Cassian uniform with fake blood on it. It sure looked cheap and was probably made by someone from our school who tried to rebel against the school rules.

"Nah, it looks fake." He responded before he took out another costume, which was a flannel shirt and a wolf head. "Look, werewolf," Mischa said before he put the costume back and took out a ghost face costume, which he seemed to like.

"You would look great dressed up as Ghostface." He said. I blushed and smiled really goofily before I turned back to look for costumes.

"Oh my god! You should dress as Jigsaw!" I said as I took out a Jigsaw mask and outfit and showed it to Mischa. "I know that you really love Saw V, so I think this outfit would suit you!" I said as I gave him the outfit.

"You're a genius, (Y/N)!" He gave me a wide smile, and I smiled back. "Now we should find a costume for you." He said as he began looking for a costume for me.

"Do you wanna dress as Michael Myers?" He asked as he took out a Michael Myers costume.

"Hmm...I'm not really feeling it." I said as I began looking for a costume.

"Freddie Kruger...Nah...Chucky....Not feeling it...Ghost face...Probably...Samara Morgan...Probably not..." I kept looking for a costume, but couldn't find anything I wanted to dress up as.

"Hey, how about Jason?" Asked Mischa. I turned my head toward him and saw a Jason Voorhees costume, completed with the mask.

"Mischa, you really have good taste in everything" I responded as I took the outfit, and hugged him. "We should go dress up now!"

After buying the costumes, and going to my house so that we can dress up, we spent most of the night scaring children who were going trick-or-treating, buying candy, going to Taco Bell to scare Noel (which actually worked), and eating tacos outside the mall together with Noel who took a break from work to hang out with us, while watching final destination on a portable DVD player.

"You know Mischa, this Halloween was the most amazing day of my life. But you know what else is amazing?" I smirked at Mischa.

"What else is amazing?" He asked.

"You are, silly!" I laughed, almost choking on my taco, but noel smacked my back so that I could stop choking, which surprisingly worked. Mischa was blushing a lot, and I was laughing at how much he was blushing

"I might be the most romantic boy in town, but your relationship is too syrupy for me," Noel declared.

And that's how I spent my Halloween with my boyfriend.

THE END

𝑅𝑒𝒷𝓁𝑜𝑔 >> 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 (𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝒸𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈)

[rainbowsky]

saw the new 🔴🟢 translation just now and i wanted to ask, where do those rumors come from? do we know anything about the op? the way the rumors are structured makes it sound like it would have to be someone on dd's staff or someone that often works in close proximity to him. out of the ones i've read it seems like the rumors are usually from dd's side, not so much gg except when they're both present. would that be accurate?

how true do you believe the rumors to be?

This is in reference to a previous post.

Fake, fan fiction, CPN.

LRLG is very popular among turtles and is a bit of a fandom icon. They are called 🔴🟢 (or Little Red, Little Green) because they use a 🔴 to depict GG and a 🟢 to depict DD in the rumors they post.

Although there are other people in the rumor house who post using these colored dots, we know LRLG rumors are from that specific person because the rumor house numbers every LRLG rumor to distinguish rumors coming from the LRLG account from those coming from other accounts.

Fans take LRLG rumors seriously because they seem realistic in ways that would be difficult to fake, and because they often reveal things that prove to be true later on. You can read more about that here.

Nothing is known about who LRLG is (the fake rumor house is anonymous). The primary fan theory is that LRLG must be a member of DD's staff (if the rumors aren't total fiction written by a fan), because the rumors tend to follow DD and his activities and interactions with GG in person and over the phone.

What do I think about LRLG? Well, first and foremost I have to say that I'm a big fan of LRLG rumors. More so than any other content we've gotten since we last saw GG and DD in joint interviews and fan meets, LRLG gives me a sense of actually witnessing GG and DD's interactions. It has the ring of truth for me. As far as I'm concerned, they MUST be real.

If they aren't real, then LRLG has utterly legendary writing ability, and I wish that I could read some narrative GGDD fan fiction from them. This person absolutely nails their personalities and behavior toward each other to a degree that seems superhuman to me. Not just their personalities and interactions, but also capturing the chaos and fragmented snippets of partially witnessed conversation. If it's fake then I am blown away by how well the rumors are crafted.

If LRLG is a fake then it would difficult to hold it against them, because their characterization of GG and DD is so exquisite and the rumors are so enjoyable that it's been worth the clownery.

But I do personally believe in LRLG. It's hard to picture someone holding up to all of these factors at once:

Skilled enough to write this particular bit of obscure, specific content so convincingly

Well-versed enough in the various languages and dialects GG and DD use

With such an encyclopedic knowledge of their schedules, clothing, personalities, interests, behavior, etc.

An uncanny sense of timing to drop rumors when they do

Keen sensitivity to what is best for GG and DD and the fans, so that the rumors fill a valuable role in keeping things fresh without compromising GG and DD in any way

Dedicated and invested enough to keep the ruse up that well for that long without breaking character

I mean, it's possible, sure - but it doesn't seem as likely to me as the idea that the rumors are periodic reports from someone on their staff. I find it easier to believe they are what they seem to be than that someone has gone to these elaborate lengths to craft them, with no apparent goal and without any obvious fuck-ups.

I feel the need to make myself abundantly clear: These rumors are unverified and might be fakes invented by some random person out there. We cannot be sure of their veracity.

Why would someone on their staff do that? Why would GG and DD allow them to? I go into more detail on that in this post.

I talk a bit about the possibility of GG being somehow connected to LRLG here.

For that reason I think we should just enjoy them, and not get too twisted up about whether they're real or not. My opinion is just an opinion, nothing more.

[klerothesnowman]

Why You Should Play A Different TTRPG, but without treating you like an idiot this time

As the anti WotC discourse continues to intensify I am once again reminded that nerds are famously really, really bad at selling people on things.

I don't blame us for it, we're all neurodivergent here, it's a safe space. But now that D&D is becoming a little "Ethically Challenging" to continue to engage with and let's be completely honest here guys, isn't inspiring much hope with its recent releases it's becoming increasingly pertinent to encourage people to reach out to other RPG games.

You've no doubt heard the refrain before, someone tries to do a political Game of Thrones-esque campaign in 5e and someone chimes up and says "5e isn't designed for this you should play a DIFFERENT game." It's a conversation we've been circling the drain around for so long. And the thing is, these people are kind of right, but with enough wrong in their argument that makes it unhelpful. Because look, you've been running your political 5e game for a while, or you've been watching a Crown of Candy, you have SEEN it work, you KNOW it can work. So when people come at you with the absolutist argument of "A campaign like this can't work in 5e" they've already lost the discussion. A campaign like that CAN work in 5e. But. It will work in 5e despite 5e. It will work, but only after the DM has invented reasons you can't use magic to solve the problem, either by preventing you from doing it in the first place or by introducing magical counters to that magic. And if it's the latter, that tilts the board a little further, because now the setting is one that has high powered mages deeply involved with the political game. Great if that's what you're angling for, but a bit of a problem if you're not.

The gameplay of a game informs how the game feels to play. D&D has a lot of mechanics for combat, and not a lot of mechanics for political RP. To bring up A Crown of Candy again, everyone playing that game is a skilled improv actor, they can rock the Political RP. But how often does things turn into a big fight? That's the game of D&D rearing itself again.

But look, you've probably heard this before right? Even this isn't a new argument. But here's what I think people miss out on. Showing examples from the other side of the fence.

This whole post has actually been an excuse to talk about Wildsea

The Wildsea is a cool indie RPG that my group has been playing recently. It's a post apocalyptic game where flora grew at an absurdly accelerated rate, covering the entire world in rapidly growing trees and vines. Now, people live on the top of mountains or bits of earth pulled up by the trees, and sail across The Wildsea on big ships with chainsaws on the front that cut their way through the treetops. It's weird and mysterious, with a lot of character options to make weird and mysterious characters. But also, crucially, the various aspects of its design from how it handles travel, character building and conflicts reward creativity and narrative focused play in a way that 5e just doesn't. And it all comes together to invoke a very specific vibe.

In Wildsea your character is built from three options, your Bloodline, your Origin and your Post. All three of these options give you access to an equal number of potential "Aspects" for your character. As an example, one character could have the Bloodline of an Ektus, tall cactus people, the Origin of Anchored, the ghost of a deceased Wildsailor and have the Post of a Char, the ship's Cook.

These three options are all really whacky in of themselves, but what's cool is that how important they are depends on how much you invest into them. If you primarily want to play a Cactus Person, who defends themselves with their spines and filters water through their flesh, you can take more Aspects from your Bloodline. If you want to play a Ghost, floating through walls and throwing around objects like a poltergeist you take more Aspects from your Origin. If you want to be Sanji from One Piece, constantly on the look out for cool ingrediants to cook with, you take more Aspects from your Post. All options are equally viable, and available to you.

Compare that to 5e. In 5e (specifically 5e, I haven't messed with the new stuff) your character is built from three point five options (Plus Feats, but I'll get to them). Your Race, your Background, your Class and your Subclass. Your race gives you extra bonuses to your stats and some flavour abilities. Your Background gives you extra skill proficiencies and a flavour ability. Your class and subclass meanwhile give you your entire suite of gameplay options.

As an example, one character could have the Race of Dhampir, a half vampire, the Background of Noble and the Class of.... Let's say, Rogue with the Subclass Swashbuckler. I'm trying to make something like Alucard here, from Castlevania. The son of Dracula, using his vampiric powers for the good of humanity.

Baseline, this is pretty good. But... What if I wanted to lean into the Vampire aspect really hard? As a Dhampir I gain access to the ability to walk on walls and a bite that deals 1d4 damage and restores health/boosts my next roll. And that's kind of it. It's not something I can build my entire character around, that 1d4 damage gets out classed very quickly. What if I wanted to go all in on being a noble? Well my options are even bleaker there, as your Background only gives you a single hyper specific ability that wont be applicable to anything else.

My character is my Class, and my Class is a linear path that's decided for me in the first three levels. I've chosen Swashbuckler, but what if the reason I wanted to play a Swashbuckler was so that I could use my charms and Panache to bedazzle and beguile my opponents? Well... Panache is a skill that you don't get access to until level 9. If I chose this class for this character fantasy, I'm not going to be able to achieve it until half way into my character build, meaning a very large chunk of the campaign is going to involve me not doing what I wanted this character to do.

What's more, if someone else is playing a Swashbuckler our characters are effectively going to be played exactly the same. The Vampiric Noble Swashbuckler will be indistinguishable from the Renegade Drow Street Urchin Swashbuckler during play.

The image of a party of adventurers sitting around the campfire is pretty iconic to D&D. The downtime is very important to players roleplaying, it gives everyone a moment to stop, have their character relax, and provide an environment to discuss things with other players. There's a reason there are so many commissioned art pieces of PCs interacting around a fire. There's a reason Baldur's Gate 3 made it the place you primarily interact with your party members.

The thing is though... Are you actually encouraged to? Mechanically, this is a Long Rest. It's how the majority of classes restore their abilities and that's basically it. The opportunity is there to do more through RP, but the encouragement and reward to do so is entirely on the player. How many times has your D&D party gone. "Okay we camp and do a long rest"? Be honest with me here. You're not thinking too deep about it. It's a moment to stop because you need to stop for the next combat encounter. There is nothing encouraging you to do more than that than your own desire for it. For some groups that's enough, but not every group can do that, sometimes a group really needs a little push in the right direction.

It's the same with traveling. The D&D party traveling from location to location is equally as iconic. But in practice what does that actually look like? Same with when I asked how often your D&D party brushed over the rest, how often do they brush over the travel? How often do you just have one or two "Who goes on watch tonight?" rolls and call it a day?

In Wildsea, traveling across the treetops on your chainsaw boat is the game. It's what it's all about. There's a whole ass character sheet for your vehicle for when you need to get gnitty gritty with it, but typically your travel journey will be handled by a montage of actions. Instead of just having a single PC making an obligatory "On Watch" roll, characters can take a variety of tasks like watching the weather, tending the engines, cartographizing, working the helm. Your characters are encouraged, required, to take a position on the ship and work.

What's more, "resting" isn't really a thing like in D&D. Much of the itemization of Wildsea revolves around managing specific resources, Salvage, Specimens and Whispers (which is magic stuff that I wont really be touching on.). Instead of health points your skills and equipment can take damage, which you can recover during these montages. You can use Specimens to cook meals which heal your wounds, you can use Salvage to repair your broken equipment or make new things. Specimens and Salvage can also come with extra tags, providing bonus effects when used. You can also gain Aspects for yourself and your ship that provide recurring access to these resources, or ways to improve them and add tags.

What this translates to in gameplay is that traveling in Wildsea becomes a combination of doing your job on the ship, your chores and your personal projects. You might find it weird that I'm describing a task as a "Chore" positively, but I think it's the perfect description because it sells an aspect of the game world, and the game itself.

The Wildsea is a post apocalypse setting. A major aspect of this game's world is all the different ways that people have adjusted to living in this environment. Having a series of menial tasks like tending to your night garden and hauling up the fishing trawlers that attract bugs to eat puts you, the player, in this environment. By making meals your method for healing it puts you, the player, into a position where a well cooked meal is something immediately desirable from a practical position. It makes getting your group together for a big dinner impactful, not just from a roleplay position but from a mechanical one too. It makes roleplaying a person just trying to get by in this world the gameplay. It encourages you to care about meals and salvage.

There's no guidance for this stuff in 5e. In fact, 5e discourages it. If you want your character to be a chef in 5e there are two options to you. Proficiency with Cook's Utensils and the Chef feat. The Cook's Utensils provide you with the ability to cook meals. If you roll above a 15 the meal is "Gourmet". This doesn't really mean anything. It also allows you to "Prepare Meals" that give a whole single hitpoint more when you rest. It's not very impactful. Meanwhile the Chef Feat allows you to also cook meals, "provided you have ingredients". There's no reason to seek certain ingredients of a higher grade or anything, and in my experience it's more likely for the DM to turn around and say you don't have access to ingredients to try and make narrative tension rather than reward the player for keeping track of them. These meals you can cook restore a little bit more HP, and can provide temporary HP too.

The thing is, Feats in D&D are something you have a very limited amount of, and they're not created equally. Chef is more useful than some, but taking Chef still means your combat ability is diminished. Taking Chef means you can't take feats that are more versatile and impactful.

This is why people encourage you to play games tailor made to deliver on certain vibes and themes rather than playing everything in 5e. Because they can more effectively deliver the experience that you're looking for, without needing to struggle against the system in the first place. It guides people toward certain behaviors and rewards choices that suit the vibe. Even the best roleplayers can do even better with a bit of guidance.