#this might be the stupidest thing i've done today

[judasofsuburbia]

Jonathan Byers might be the stupidest person on the planet. Because why...WHY did he ask Steve Harrington to model for his photography final? Why did he think he would ever be able to focus enough to capture what he needs to? Why did he wait until the last week of the semester and now, there's no time to ask anyone else and he doesn't want to hurt Steve's feelings—

“Hey,” Steve says, interrupting Jonathan's thought spiral. “Is this where you want me?” 

Jonathan looks up from his clipboard and camera to see Steve standing on top of the stool. Jonathan had sent him away with a costume he borrowed from the drama department and hadn't heard him come back in.

Steve is dressed in a toga. The crossbody strap is smaller than it would be on anyone else across his broad, hairy chest. The end of the toga rests delicately on his upper thighs, an inch away from being too short. Steve has quaffed his beautiful hair up and a plastic, golden crown of leaves sits amongst the brunette locks.

All of the moisture in Jonathan's mouth evaporates as he takes in Steve in this, what should have been, almost ridiculous outfit. Instead, Steve is absolutely striking in it and Jonathan is going to lose his mind before he even gets the lights set up.

“Uh, yeah, just hold there,” Jonathan croaks so he clears his throat. “I still have some things to set up.”

“Cool,” Steve replies simply. He shifts from foot to foot, tied up in lacy sandals. He looks around the studio that Jonathan has set up and smiles.

“Excited to see you do your thing,” Steve says. Jonathan trips over a cable.

“What?”

Steve glances over his shoulder and his face is so genuine when he says, “I wanna see you in the zone, you know?”

Jonathan blinks and ducks his head. “In the zone,” he repeats lamely.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “I mean, I've seen you take pictures before but never all done up like this. And this concept is really cool, I hope I can do it justice.“

Jonathan's assignment was to take from an existing piece of art, something not photography related, and recreate it. He's always been fascinated by the coliseums and marble statues of Greece, all the Gods and warriors of that time. As he was researching, the only thing that came to his mind was “Steve, Steve, Steve” and before he could even think twice, he shot him a text asking for his help. 

“You will, man,” Jonathan barely speaks above a mumble. 

Steve hums a song Jonathan doesn't know in the silence that follows. Jonathan finishes setting up all the lights and drawing the curtains of the room. He tries to pull up the screen behind Steve but can't get it to sit on the designated pole.

Steve reaches over him, his stomach resting on Jonathan's shoulder, and hooks the screen into place. Jonathan glances up at Steve's towering figure and swallows dryly. His muscular arm is bulging, his head is cast in the light from behind them like an angel. 

Steve winks and says, “You can put me to work, Byers. I don't mind.”

Jonathan's not sure that the thing that tumbles out of his lips is a laugh, per se, more like a weak, nasally huff of air. But he can't focus on that right now because he needs to stop breathing in Steve's cologne. He escapes to the other side of the room.

“You're going to be doing plenty today, I promise,” Jonathan responds while he sets up a little table next to his camera for his notes. “Why don't we start with you sitting?”

Steve sits on the stool with his legs spread, not even realizing that he's near exposing himself through the skirt. Jonathan squeaks and Steve glances down. 

“Oh shit,” Steve says, crossing his ankles. “Not used to that happening.”

“It's fine, I didn't see anything,” Jonathan mumbles, writing down nothing on his clipboard of notes. 

“I didn't go full commando under here,” Steve clarifies with a small laugh. “I'm just glad I wore white boxers today--”

And yeah, Jonathan didn't need that image either. He starts adjusting his camera on the tripod and says, “Sorry, I should have been more clear about your costume.”

“Nah man, it's alright. I kinda dig it. If we shoot outside, I'm sure the breeze will feel so good.”

Outside? No, Jonathan can't see Steve basking in the sun like this. He wouldn't survive that.

“Gonna have to settle for the AC, I'm afraid,” Jonathan says with a fumbling laugh. “Okay, first shot. I'm thinking you tilt your legs to the side, almost like you're lounging on the stool. Then pop the shoulder closer to the wall up while keeping the other down. Look up at the ceiling.”

Steve follows his instructions but he tilts his whole head up instead of just his eyes. 

“Chin down a bit, look with the eyes.”

“Like this?” Steve asks, voice innocent though it runs hot through Jonathan's ears.

Jonathan looks through his viewfinder to see Steve absolutely glowing. His brown eyes holding so much casual emotion that it tugs at Jonathan's heart. 

“Mhm. Perfect,” Jonathan captures a few shots like that before directing him to the next shot. And the one after.

Steve nails it over and over again, looking exactly like the ethereal Gods and tragic heroes Jonathan read about. Jonathan keeps telling him he's doing amazing, that he looks amazing. He can see Steve try to fight off his smile for the sake of not ruining the shot. Jonathan wonders if he could shoot that smile someday just for the sake of letting him be happy.

“You're going to give me a big head,” Steve says when they take a break. 

“Please,” Jonathan scoffs. “You already have one.”

Steve pouts playfully when he's done sipping his water. “I'm better than I was.”

Jonathan shakes his head with a fond smile. He looks at Steve directly and says, “Yeah, you are.”

Steve's lips part in surprise but then he quickly tilts his head away, sipping more water. Steve tsks. “Compliment after compliment, Byers. I should be your model more often.”

Jonathan's cheeks burn hot. “Yeah, yeah, tell your friends. C'mon, let's get back to it.”

The new few shots require Steve to show off his muscles which had to have been an idea of a deliriously horny Jonathan Byers. He could kill that guy.

“Okay, hold your hands up and behind your head. Then, uh,” Jonathan stammers, “Flex your arms for me.”

Steve raises his eyebrows but he does flex. It's not that Steve Harrington is absolutely shredded; rather, he has the toned muscles of a casual jock. He just cares about his body and his strength. It doesn't make it any less debilitating to witness. 

“G-good, that's good,” Jonathan mumbles.

“You good, Byers?” Steve asks. His smirk grows less subtle every fleeting second it takes for Jonathan to respond. “Wishing for someone more buff?”

“No,” Jonathan defends immediately. “No, uh, no, you're good. Great, even.” 

“What should I do with my face?” Steve asks.

“Keep it smug like that,” Jonathan says, a little bite to his words that comes from the roaring zoo currently in his stomach.

“Smug,” Steve scoffs, voice still teasing. “Just trying to figure you out.”

Jonathan ignores that, he does not need to be figured out today and especially not by Steve Harrington.

He takes the shot and instructs Steve to hold one arm up to the side while the other pretends to hold something. Steve stands awkwardly, clenching and unclenching the fist that's supposed to be acting right now. 

“Can you show me?” Steve asks. 

“Sure,” Jonathan says. He rounds the camera and is about to demonstrate making an “O” with his fist but Steve holds out his hand and Jonathan doesn't think before he takes it. He shapes Steve's fingers gently and places his arm outstretched to his side. Steve just watches him. 

“Should I actually hold something?” Steve asks.

“No, I'm gonna edit something in later,” Jonathan explains, awkwardly dropping Steve's hand because he realizes he's still holding it. 

“Like what?”

“I can't decide if it's going to be a sword or a lightning bolt. Armor, maybe,” Jonathan shrugs then looks up at Steve who is beaming at him.

“You can do that?” 

“Y-yeah. Photoshop and all.” 

“That's so fucking sick,” Steve exclaims. “You're gonna send these to me, right?”

“Yeah, if you want,” Jonathan says.

“Of course, I want,” Steve assures. ”Not only because you're making me into some Greek god but also because it's your art and it's fucking cool.“

“Thanks,” Jonathan breathes.

Steve reaches the posed hand up and pinches Jonathan's chin. Jonathan can feel every nerve vibrate as Steve's fingers fall away too soon. Steve gives him a curious look but returns his hand to the pose. Jonathan shuffles back behind the camera and continues shooting the pictures.

Steve showcases different smolders that make Jonathan's stomach tighten but he keeps pressing the button, keeps seeing how far Steve will go without his instruction. 

“What if I shot my arm back like I'm about to throw it?” Steve asks, demonstrating his point. 

Jonathan's eyes trail up his torso to the arm in question and he swallows. “Mhm. That looks really good.”

Steve's lips turn upward and he whispers, “So do you, Byers.”

Jonathan's whole body freezes. His finger trembles over the button but his mind is so blank that he can't tell it to push. Steve keeps glancing at him but Jonathan's not registering it. 

Steve coughs awkwardly and mumbles, “Just tell me to fuck off, man.”

That gets Jonathan's brain back online. “What?”

Steve jumps, not realizing that Jonathan was actually listening. He drops his stance and rolls his shoulders back, bones popping as he does. He sighs and says meekly, “If you don't like me flirting with you, just tell me to stop and I will.”

Flirting? Flirting. 

“You're flirting with me?” Jonathan asks, exasperated. 

“I was trying to,” Steve explains, a sheepish look on his face. “But it's obvious you're not into it so--”

“Wait…no, hold on, I honestly thought you were messing with me,” Jonathan admits, walking around the camera again. Steve steps down from the stool to be at eye level with him and Jonathan swoons a little in their new proximity. 

“I do love messing with you,” Steve confirms. “But no, Byers, I’ve been flustered all day having you stare at me and do your hot artist thing. That’s not a joke.”

“Really?” Jonathan whispers, his skin flushed. 

“Really,” Steve whispers back.

"I am into it," Jonathan responds quietly.

"Yeah?"

"Put you into a toga because I'm so into it--" Jonathan doesn't finish this sentence because Steve is kissing him and he would much rather be kissing Steve than talking.

With the curtains drawn and the studio booked for the rest of the afternoon, Jonathan finds himself in Steve's lap with Steve's tongue in his mouth. He decides about two seconds in that he's got enough pictures for the day.

[tua-five]

Season 2 Episode 7

I actually love this episode. It is so eventful and is a rollercoaster of emotions. It is my favorite s2 episode. That being said, I am writing this before watching the episode.

Starting off strong with Five saying luck is dying at the right time. Now, this might be a terrible thing to say, and possibly frightening to the woman. However, I believe that is Five trying his very hardest to be kind/a good human being. It's like the nicest thing he can say.

And then of course he loses his marbles over a "fuckin' fudge nutter" and goes on a rampage killing the board of directors.

I saw something a couple of days ago, and the person made a really good point. They asked what Five planned to do when he got to the location and time to kill the board. Because he picked up that axe while there. Did he plan on using his fists? Did he assume there would be a weapon? Was he just gonna "wing it"? Because if he was, that's probably the stupidest thing he's done. He's got to do this right, his family's lives are on the line and getting back to their timeline.

Speaking of family. I do feel bad for Allison. Even after season 3... she's a character. It doesn't excuse anything. But she just told Ray that she's love him and he kind of smiled and then left. Didn't even say it back.

I very much do hate the handler, though. Making five do her dirty work and then only giving him 90 minutes to gather everyone.

I fully believe that if this had actually worked, they'd still be stuck in the wrong 2019. Because she only specified 2019. Not "your timeline where you lived, so everything is back to normal" 2019.

And poor Olga Foroga. Diego and Luther just terrorized a poor old woman. Probably have her a heart attack.

Okay, but Ben and Jill were so cute. Even if Jill thought it was Klaus. The dirt moment 😢

And Ben and Diego 🥺

And Five and [Viktor]. When they were staring at each other, threatening them each other with their powers. I don't know if I've said it before, but what did Five plan to do? Grab [him] and jump someplace else? To the alley? [Viktor's] powers can actually hurt Five. So that made sense. But I don't get what Five was trying to do.

And Diego saying he has something he needs to get done first and then going to bury elliot?? That was the sweetest thing.

And of course, Lila has to ruin it and drug him just so he can join the commission and stay with her forever. I mean, I've grown to like her, but what the heck.

And everyone messed their part up of getting to the Alley. Well, except for the most responsible (for the most part) people.

Today's gifs!

This was such a cute and funny moment, I don't care what anyone says.

[sunkissedscribbles]

Prejudiced - Chapter Six

this is only a part of the series, the previous and next chapters can be found here

a/n: GUYS this is my favourite one so far, i had so much fun with this. was listening to meddle about by chase atlantic while writing the first part of it. enjoy<3

word count: 3297

tw: um probably swearing, cassie getting a little carried away, mention of sex

summary: cassie finally breaks and tells kiara what’s been bothering her but as always, things only get even more complicated when she tries to apologize to mattheo.

<previous chapter next chapter>

dividers by @chachachannah

As dramatic as it might sound, I spend my Sunday morning locked away in my room in fear after what I've done. Thoughts regarding my stupidity rush through my brain, not leaving me a split second to think about anything else. If I were able to think of something else, I'd be thinking about how big of a genius I was for doing my homework yesterday. But there's no time, nor enough capacity in my brain to keep my mind off that kiss. Almost kiss — it wasn't a real kiss. It was just a little peck on the lips, wasn't it? Like a friendly smooch.

But friends don't kiss each other's lips, I remind myself.

Damnit. Why do I always have to prove no one can fool with me? Mattheo was just teasing, no harm was done by that, and I was an idiot, there's no denying that one.

An hour into me rushing into my dorm dramatically, shoving past fellow Gryffindors who must've thought I've given in to the stereotypes, declaring I'm a psychopath like my aunt and other ancestors by how I was behaving, Kiara knocks on my door. One thing is for sure about her; she does not know personal space, and she never knocks. But now, I think she knows it's different. I've pushed it too far. But wasn't I just responding to Mattheo?

No. It was outright the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life.

"Cass. I'm coming in," my best friend's voice echoes through the wooden door, seconds later she's sitting on my bed next to me, awkwardly patting my head as I cry, and unintentionally finding humour in her way of comforting people, I let out a brief laugh, followed by a big sob as I lay my head into her lap.

"I've ruined it, Ki. I-I... he won't ever-" I must stop to gather my thoughts for a moment. "He won't forgive me for this. I'll be the reason we part. Us five."

Kiara just listens for a while, gently caressing my hair as a way of comfort. "I'm so sorry-y," I sob and she immediately starts hushing me. "It's not your fault. You didn't ruin anything. If I were him, I would've enjoyed it," she reassures me. But I can only think of one thing.

"So, he didn't? He said I kissed badly?" I let out another big sob and she smacks my forehead lightly, not to cause me any pain.

"Fuck off. I bet you're a great kisser."

"But-"

"No buts. You are and you know it too. Plus, it wasn't even a real kiss."

To that, I respond with heavier cries. Because she's right.

"My first kiss wasn't even a kiss. And it wasn't real either," I bury my face into her thigh, but she makes me look at her by commanding me to do so.

"Why'd you do it?"

I shrug and shake my head, my voice trembles as I speak and it's barely above a whisper as I can feel my throat tighten with guilt, "I don't know."

After a few minutes, I sit up and start to play with the gold ring on my finger.

"I-I guess I let my frustration take the best of me," I let out a sharp, breathy exhale and run a hand through my hair before continuing. "And... he was right there. And I guess I just wanted to, you know..."

"...Kiss someone?" she helps me out patiently, speaking calmly, to that, I nod. I now realize how stupid and childish it sounds. And Ki sees right through me if I haven't been embarrassed enough for today.

"But it's not only that, is it?"

I look away and shake my head. "No."

"Talk to me. You know I'm right here."

To that, my blood starts to boil again because how would she understand? She's got everything, all the experience and what've I got? Fear of not being enough, fear of running out of time and missing out on life.

"I'm running out of time, Ki. I haven't had my first kiss yet and you have already lost your virginity-"

"It comes in different times for everyone, Cass. Don't compare us."

"I know! I know it does and that I shouldn't, but I can't, okay? Not when all of you are smoking, drinking, attending all those parties where you leave me alone, you and Theo to do that, Mattheo to dance with a girl who's not at all like me, and Enzo not even turning up! And then no one notices I've left. Not even Matt who's been there with me after you two left. Maybe I'm doing something wrong-"

"You aren't."

"-or maybe the problem is with me but I'm not feeling well, for fuck's sake," I blurt out, and my voice trembles while another tear is running down my cheek unstoppably.

Kiara just looks at me with an expressionless face and she nods. She knows. I freeze. She knew this whole time...? Does she know about my problems with my body image too?

She waits for me to continue but I don't. I just turn the conversation back to the topic.

"And now I kiss this twat. All because you three don't know when to stop teasing and because I don't know where to draw that fucking line, okay? I'm a horrible person and my actions will cost a whole friend group. I'm so fucking sorry that I can't be a better fucking person," I spit furiously. It's not Kiara I'm angry of — it's me, my unspoken feelings, and the world that got me this enraged.

In the end, she gets me to calm down. It takes some time but that's enough for me to go down to the Slytherin common room and apologize to the curly-haired boy.

I watch the scene escalate the second I step into the common room. For a moment, I freeze to make sure I'm not hallucinating. I see two boys fighting in the Muggle way, throwing punches.

"You fucking moron," I hear Enzo's voice echo through the space and his voice bounces back off the cold stone walls of the castle as he hits Mattheo back. The other students are only watching the scene before their eyes, rooting for either boy to win. Enzo already has a black eye and Mattheo bruised lips, from where Enzo's fist last found him.

A few seconds later I take the initiative and getting Blaise Zabini, — whom I learn from the fight's about some girl — and another Slytherin student to help me separate the boys, they hold a raging Lorenzo Berkshire back as I pull the other delinquent, Mattheo back. But it doesn't help at all. Where are Ki and Theo when they're needed?

Even when telling Mattheo those sweet lies of how it's alright, how it's not worth fighting, he doesn't stop but nor does Enzo. It takes all my physical strength to shove Mattheo under a cold rain of water in the Slytherin bathroom when his dark eyes don't seem to soften and my words do not look like they're helping, at all.

"Look at me!" I demand. The cold water's dripping from Mattheo's hair, hitting his face like a heavy London rain in the summer, and soaking the both of us' clothes. When he finally meets my gaze, his eyes remain darkened but now, with another emotion, apart from anger it isn't violent, it's just aggressive. Lust, desire.

He pushes me against the wall of the shower, keeping me steady sandwiched between him and the cold bathroom tiles with his hips as his fingers dig into my waist, making a small grunt escape my lips. Not even a millisecond later, his lips press aggressively against mine, not caring that they're bruised because of that punch delivered by Enzo. I need a second or two to realize what the fuck is happening right here, like damn, I'm being kissed by Mattheo Riddle, but then I warm up against his lips and reciprocate the kiss. He kisses deeply, aggressively, and not at all hiding his lust, but this is what's so beautiful about it. My hands wander up his back until they reach his wet curls — might I mention we're still standing under the cold shower. I pull on his hair here and there while my fingers rake through his locks, causing a few low growls to leave his throat and as a response, his hands travel lower onto my hips, and they slowly make their way to grab onto my butt. To this, my head snaps back, against the cold wall and Mattheo's lips trace a line of kisses along my jaw, making their way and stopping on my neck but not at all draw an end to the kissing. His one hand remains on my ass but the other finds its way to the hem of my long-sleeve and travels under it to tease the soft skin of my stomach. The second his palm presses against my wet skin I let out a gasp and Mattheo's lips find their way back to mine while he groans as a response to the pleasure and excitement that we're both feeling right now. I tug on his curls again, following his lead of aggression while his one hand starts travelling further up my body under my top. My breathing's shallow and it as well as my heartbeat are uncontrolled and rapid as a sense of euphoria washes over my whole being that is right now only dedicated to the boy kissing me. His hand, though, stops right before reaching my breasts and after one last kiss, to my dismay, he pulls back from me, and after staring at me with those chocolate eyes in which lust has just been replaced by regret, he steps away, and giving me no reaction time, he turns around and storms out of the bathroom. I stare at the shut door for a few seconds, digesting what had happened just now. Then, I turn the water off with a disappointed look in my eyes, and with a longing ache in my heart and in dripping wet clothes, I make my way to Kiara's dorm.

Disappointed, crushed, destroyed — this is how I would describe my mood after the kiss we've shared with Mattheo under the shower. Not because it happened, though, more of it ever ending; even if it sounds cliché. Over the days following the kiss, I find myself thinking about it, maybe even more than I should, as well as I find myself staring at the curly-haired boy in question over the classrooms, again, more than I should, as I'm trying to figure my feelings out. If I even like him, or it's just the mental image of us, and how we shared a moment. How he satisfied my five senses; the taste of his lips that I can still recall, being met by his lustful eyes that would make me weak in the knees, the feeling of his hands wandering, grazing my skin as they made it their personal mission to explore every inch of my body, the scent of how his cologne mixed with his shampoo as the running water washed everything together, and hearing the sound of our greedy kisses and the sounds he made, driven by pure desire. I wanted a kiss? Well, I got it. But I might have lost a friend as well. I don't fancy him — I can't fancy him.

He doesn't talk to me. Not a word is spoken between us for days, but I know for sure he's approached Theo the same way I did Kiara. "I did something bad, something extremely horrible," this is how I stormed into Ki's dorm on Sunday, clothes dripping with water, on the verge of crying and panicking.

It's one thing he doesn't talk to me and doesn't even try to get in touch. But it's another that Enzo now officially despises us both. Because I also learned it's my fault they'd got into that fight. Because I 'kissed' Mattheo. The kiss that morning that I referred to as a 'friendly smooch.' Well, this second one for sure wasn't an innocent little smooch on the lips. And why does that bother Enzo; I spent too much time thinking about it, looking for an answer. According to Kiara, Theo, and even the twins, he likes me, but in my opinion, maybe he only wanted to protect me from, well, the monster people claim Mattheo to be. But from Ki and Theo's constant teasing back when everything was alright, I doubt I'd be right with the second option. Which is bad. Horrible. Horrible, because I love Enzo, okay? But not at all romantically. Enzo is the guy I'd live together and adopt 60 cats with, taking care of them as platonic cat parents, not the guy I see myself falling for.

So, now my entire friend group is falling apart, all because of me.

And it goes like this, everyone drifting away and the only mutual connection being Theo and Ki, for three weeks. What happens after three weeks, you might wonder. Kiara and Theo, the two kind souls deciding it's time for Mattheo and me to make up ("Make ou- up, I mean. One way or another, him on top, or you, I don't care. I've had enough of this bickering," if I may quote Kiara's words) for what happened. As a solution, we arrive at the present day; they shove us into a broom closet and lock the door until we're done having a heart-to-heart.

"So..." Mattheo's voice is unsteady, so he clears his throat.

I've been thinking about this a lot; about what we should do if he ever were to talk to me again. And I've come to a sensible conclusion.

"Can we forget about it?"

"Let's be more," Mattheo says right when I blurt my suggestion out. And because we're talking at the same time and since I'm focusing on saying the right words, I hear my words louder than his, thus I don't understand what he says.

"Sorry," we mutter at the same time. "You start," I pass him the ball.

"No, you," to that, I sigh and nod.

"I said let's forget about it. We'd just ruin the whole group and there's the Enzo problem too. We were just... acting on a whim, weren't we?" I offer an apologetic smile and to that, his eyes become a little colder and his muscles tense up in his whole body, all too perceptible as I see his facial features change, his muscles twitching underneath the soft skin I'd like to touch the way I did three weeks ago.

Fuck, Cassie, stop this.

"Yeah. I was thinking the same," he nods. I'm not even able to read his expression because of the cold eyes he's giving me. He's shutting down again. Oh, I know for a fact he's a Pisces moon.

"Mattheo," I frown, "have I said something wrong?"

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, his exterior softening. "No, you haven't."

Before I could ask him if he's sure about that, the snickering from the other side of the door catches my ear and I immediately forget that I've even wanted to ask anything. And our broom-closet-duo is supplemented by a cursing Enzo who stumbles in by being pushed in by two pairs of hands.

The second he notices us, he becomes defensive, having his arms crossed in front of his chest and his expression dark and hardened. "Am I interrupting something?" he asks coldly, clearly hurt as his sarcastic words ring in the tight space. He can't even look at me — he's only staring into Mattheo's eyes, coldly as never before. Then, after a few seconds, he looks at me and speaks bitterly. "Or is one guy not enough for you?"

The muscles in my face all tense up at his sarcastic remark. I see the twitch in Mattheo's fists — he'd jump right at Enzo and start another fistfight. Enzo's words though, in me, cut deep, and now I'm just becoming more sure that Kiara and Theo have been right about how Enzo might like me. Might. May. Must do so. And I want to shovel dirt on me and bury myself alive.

"Can't we talk this through?" I suggest in a hurt tone.

"I'm not having this discussion with this in the room," Enzo spits bitterly with a straight back, clearly referring to Mattheo. And again, I'd like to turn the time back to where I messed it all up by acting on a whim when I gave Mattheo that smooch the morning after his nightmare.

"Neither do I," Mattheo claims through gritted teeth, glaring at Enzo while trying to hold his disruptive anger back.

"If you want a threesome, not with him," Enzo shoots back and before I can even respond, a fist is thrown in his direction, followed by a grunt from Enzo.

I try to pull Mattheo back but there's no use. I make my mind up — if I can't get them off each other by my hands, I'm gonna do it by wand. I grab the vine-wood wand from my back pocket and point at them both. "Immobulus," I say in a relatively calm tone that covers my frustration, watching as a blue light flashes from the tip of my wand, freezing the wrestling boys in their movements.

"Let's keep it short," I start in an annoyed voice as I glare down at the boys, the frustrated, almost angry undertone growing upon my words the more I go on. "Have I kissed Mattheo? Yes, I have. But it has nothing to do with Enzo. I'm friends with both of you, nothing more, and less only if you two keep this bickering shit up. You are my best friends, you are my only family, but if you can't appreciate it, then I guess we should call this off. We're all hurting and I know I made a bloody mistake, but we are hurting Kiara and Theodore too with what we've been doing in the past weeks. You two have to get over this, and I have some unfinished business with both of you, but I can only do that if you finally listen to me. And if you actually have some intelligent thoughts in those shrunken brains of yours still, let me know. And stop fighting over childish nonsense, finally. We're not in nursery school anymore, for Salazar's bollocks!"

Okay, saying I'm in a mood is an understatement, I have to agree on that one. But who wouldn't react similarly in a situation like this? Or I do have gone mental — and if that's the case, I'll have to apologize to Hermione.

I'm still looking at the boys lying on the floor under the effects of the Freezing Charm, and I can only hope their brains could process my previous rant — but after a few more seconds, I do the counterspell on the arses of the bloody morons.

They sit up and do a little shake of their hands, both looking at me as if they saw the basilisk, neither of them saying a word but they get up eventually.

I cross my arms in front of me and glare at them. "Shake hands."

"What?" they ask in unison.

"Do it. Shake hands. And get over this shit."

Reluctantly, but they do it, exchanging angry, frustrated gazes, then they both look at me. I have no intention of talking about what happened between either of them and me, not like this, when they're both present — that wouldn't do much good to anyone. All I say is "Sorry," and they mutter a "Me too."

thanks for reading it, and don't foget to comment if you'd like to be on the tag list<3

tag list: @reyys-letters @mqstermindswift @inksoakedparchment

[aoifereal]

Still feeling kind of incredulous about what sparked my argument with my older brother this morning. Like he's always been a bit of a debate bro but until the past couple of years he's had broadly liberal tendencies. Today though, he said:

- he thinks Ricky Gervais has done great jokes recently and that you should be allowed to joke about whatever you want. He dismissed my sibling saying you should try to avoid punching down with "if it's funny it's funny". I bit my tongue for this stuff beyond agreeing with my sibling it's a normal privileged dude opinion, and difficult to argue against because it's very easy to shift around language to avoid seeming to cross any lines while making the implications clear.

- then he said that he doesn't think there should be any different treatment of people of colour (in the context of he thinks you should be able to make racist jokes) and that historical racism "shouldn't have any impact on how we treat people today". When I pointed out that in order to get to the point where people are equal more work needs to be done he doubled down. This is where the conversation heated up because I said it was the most stupid thing I'd ever heard him say. Unfortunately he would proceed to impress me further.

- Then onto feminism, he said that he thinks there are less women CEOs because women just "want to be in the boardroom less than men do". I questioned him on it and he said because of the long hours. Then I tried explaining to him how misogyny functions in the workplace to make those environments hostile to women. During this he said that women don't get promotions because they ask for them less than men. And Why Do You Think That Might Be , Connor. As soon as it was clear he wasn't able to say anything more he said the final most stupid thing.

- Feminism "wasn't an issue before the industrial revolution". I asked what he thought the whole deal was with us having kings and male inherited wealth for several hundred years was. He said it couldn't be an issue because "our longest reigning monarch was a queen". Literally the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Why Do You Think She Got To Be Queen, Connor. Do you think maybe, there was some sort of unlikely circumstance leading to that. He couldn't answer that so just went back to saying that feminism wasn't an issue. At this point I think I literally just sputtered and started saying the world primogeniture over and over again like a madwoman. Then someone else loudly changed topic.

[tleeaves]

So, this might be the stupidest thing I've done for exercise yet, but because our dumbbells are still MIA, I have started using my law textbooks as weights to do curls and lifts. Those textbooks are Thick. And I haven't done weights in a while so they're extra difficult (not to mention how weirdly shaped they are for use in a way they were definitely not intended to be used).

Stick around for results, I guess? Today I found out that two textbooks per arm while doing squats after about three months away from the boxing gym is murderous. I have wasted away 💀

[campingwiththecharmings]

YES LET'S GOOOOO

(this is super long wow, lmao sorry 😅)

Poe was always, and had always, been chatty, but today he seemed to have turned all his dials up to maximum. He'd talked non stop, made unfunny jokes, inappropriate innuendos that with anyone else you suspect he wouldn't have gotten away with, and done just about anything he could to make himself the most annoying person this side of the galaxy.

bet he knows the reader is into him and loves to make the squirm. what an what an asshole (affectionate).

"But you might. I'm very into consent and if I'm asleep-" he pauses mid sentence, opening his mouth and then closing it again before leaning against the door frame. "Actually scratch all of that. I absolutely give you consent to do whatever you like to me."

alsklskdfdl;gk lollll why did this make me laugh so hard 😂

"It's okay to be nervous," he continues, while your mouth goes dry. "I know spending the night with me is a lot, and it's going to be so difficult for you to keep your hands to yourself, but we are going to get through this together, and you'll be able to tell everyone about it when we get home."

what an asshole omg I'M SO IN LOVE WITH HIM

"There is absolutely no sexual tension, Poe. What there is, is murderous tension." Poe lets out an exclamation of excitement. "Oh my favourite kind!"

ASSHOLEEEE

Oh no. You absolutely did not have a sex dream about him. Not now, not here. Please no!

OH PLEASE YESSSSSSSS 😈

How typical of Poe to try and be helpful in the most unconventional way.

lsakl;fkd;lfg omg poe keeping the reader distracted bc of all the hard stuff they've seen. brb crying. 😭😭😭

"I'm not going away so you're either going to suffocate or talk." "Then I'll suffocate," you mumble into the pillow, already regretting saying anything.

lmaoooo me tbh 😂

"I've thought about kissing you too, you know? In fact I've thought about kissing you at least four times since you woke me up." He gives a shrug, like you should know that, like it's completely utterly normal for someone to think about kissing you that many times in the space of ten minutes.

i want to punch him with my mouth 🥲

Effortlessly he shifts his weight over you, slotting himself between your thighs as though you were made to fit together.

as'dlsdfl stop, i love this. it's so sweet 🥺🥺🥺

*after they're already heavily making out* Perhaps there was a little sexual tension after all.

lollllllllllll yeah, a little 😂😂😂

"These are my lucky pants." You can't help but snort with a roll of your eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard." Poe raises one eyebrow, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "They got you into my bed didn't they?"

A S S H O L E 😭❤️

"I'm going to need you to be loud," he purrs in your ear, cutting you off as his hand slips under your waistband. "I don't want to miss a single noise you make."

SIR PLEASE, I HAVE A FAMILY

Normally you would feel embarrassed about how loud you are, the way your body shudders and heaves, your pussy clenching hard around his fingers, but the shaky little fuck Poe groans in your ear, obliterates any notion of embarrassment.

a'fsl';fdl'lg'g'sldf i love when he's just as affected, hell to the yesssssssssssssss

"I need to fuck you," he growls, clearly struggling with his own needs.

"You're incredible you know?"..."Not just at this, but this too."..."Just you, exactly as you are. You are incredible,"

leave it to poe to be sweet af while he's fucking the hell out of you 🥲

..."because if I am, then I'm just going to have to keep trying. The aim is to make you fall hopelessly in love with me eventually." "Through sex?" You laugh, ignoring the now familiar butterflies that tell you he might be closer to his aim than he knows. Poe shrugs, "through whatever necessary means, as long as I get to keep you as mine."

asdakl;kds;lkd;lfgk brb sobbing

Neither of you surrender until the bed is covered with feathers, the pillowcases empty and discarded, your limbs tangled together, lips pressed against sweat salted skin. This time it's you who pries the truth from him, your way.

this was a million times more amazing than anything i could've imagined omg. the banter, the smut, the softness asd;af;dlkgkg guhhhhhhh. fantastic work as always! i'll definitely be re-reading this one in the future 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

An Unorthodox Method

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Rating : 18+/E

Word count : 7600 (ish)

Warnings : It's the one bed trope!, Lil mild angst, lots of teasing, Poe being an adorable little shit, mentions of Poe having hearing problems/being partially deaf in one ear, fluff, banter, SMUT, PIV, fingering, marking (love bites and nail marks), praise kink if you squint, illusions to cum eating, mentions of oral f- receiving, overstimulation if you blink, aftercare, very brief mention of casual sex/one night stands.

Summary : All you want is a hot shower, some clean dry clothes, and to crawl into bed. What you absolutely do not want is Poe Dameron in that bed with you.

@campingwiththecharmings thank you so much for this request! I'm so excited to finally do the one bed trope for Poe! I hope you like it.

Special thank you to @mandinlore for the beta 😘

~~~~~~~~~

The rain hammers a steady ping ping ping on the window as you and Poe stand in the doorway to the room, your clothes soaked and sticking uncomfortably to your skin, your shoes leaving puddles of water.

"You have got to be kidding me!" You groan as Poe laughs.

You had been looking forward to a hot shower, a nice warm bed, and at least a good few hours of peace and quiet. The last part had already been thwarted by the fact some error in the hotel booking meant you only had one room with no others available, and now to add insult to injury there was only one damn bed.

"Well, this is going to be fun!" The pilot chirps happily from beside you, walking in to dump his bag on the chair and leaving wet boot prints in his wake.

Climbing into bed with the resistance's best looking pilot, who you were, if you were honest, a little bit in love with, did not constitute as fun. In fact, after the day you had spent with him, it was the very last thing you wanted to do.

Poe was always, and had always, been chatty, but today he seemed to have turned all his dials up to maximum. He'd talked non stop, made unfunny jokes, inappropriate innuendos that with anyone else you suspect he wouldn't have gotten away with, and done just about anything he could to make himself the most annoying person this side of the galaxy.

For what reason, you had no idea. You had started to suspect perhaps he had realised your warm feelings towards him, and maybe this was his way of making you hate him so he didn't have to let you down, and honestly, you might think it was starting to work.

Trudging into the room, your boots squelching with each step, you place your bags down, resigned to your probably sleepless fate.

"You want the bathroom first?" The pilot offers, despite the fact he's worse off than you, having given you his jacket to hold above your head the moment the downpour started. It hadn't helped much after the first few minutes, but you had been grateful for the shelter anyway.

You don't really register his question, your thoughts lost as you finger the worn leather coat remembering the way his scent clung to it, invading your senses as you splashed through the flooded streets.

"Hey," you look up to find the pilot watching you, his brow furrowed. "You okay?"

You drop the jacket onto the dresser, giving him a smile and a nod.

"Just sick of listening to you."

Poe snorts with laughter, grabbing the hem of his shirt and peeling it up over his head. You purposely busy yourself pulling out some dry clothes from your pack , not allowing yourself to peek, although it's a difficult battle.

"There's nobody you love listening to more than me," Poe states, thankfully not seeming to notice your internal fight of keeping your eyes off him.

You sigh, somewhat thankful his annoying cockyness is a distraction from his semi-nakedness. Picking up your sleepwear and wash bag you head towards the bathroom, trying to ignore him. Poe however gives you no quarter, trailing along behind you.

"So what exactly are the sleeping arrangements going to be?" He asks.

Frowning you turn around, your eyes deciding to flicker over his bared torso before meeting his gaze. Even the smallest glance is enough to get blood rushing through your veins, and you can feel heat blossoming across your cheeks.

Ignoring the feeling you gesture to the bed with a raise of your eyebrow.

"But what if you snore?" The pilot asks, clearly not noticing your desire to leave the room until he's decided to put some clothes on.

You pull a face, not quite understanding his issue when he's half deaf from the war anyway. The explosion that had damaged most of the resistance ships had permanently damaged his eardrums, which Poe liked to use to his advantage when he decided he wasn't going to listen to someone, although you think he hears far more than he lets on.

"Poe, you can hardly hear out of one ear as it is! Just sleep on your good ear and you probably won't hear a thing out of the other one."

He folds his arms stubbornly. "I'll hear if you're right next to my head."

"Then you are more than welcome to sleep in the bathroom once I'm done," you offer, stepping into the tiny fresher.

"Nah, I'd rather sleep in the bed. But what if you steal the covers?"

"Then you can take them back."

"What if you cuddle me in your sleep?" He fires quickly.

You give him a withering look, trying not to think about pressing your body against his, keeping your eyes trained on his face.

"Oh trust me Poe, I won't." In fact you will do everything possible not to touch him, just for your own sanity.

"But you might. I'm very into consent and if I'm asleep-" he pauses mid sentence, opening his mouth and then closing it again before leaning against the door frame. "Actually scratch all of that. I absolutely give you consent to do whatever you like to me."

The pilot grins at you and you feel a familiar surge of heat through your body, collecting and coiling in your abdomen. Combined with your patience finally snapping, it's the last straw. You slam the bathroom door in his handsome smug face.

The lukewarm shower really tops off the day.

~

"I've been thinking" Poe starts the moment he exits the bathroom, after loudly complaining through the door about you using up all the hot water.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh, the hope that he would have calmed down and go straight to sleep evaporating. You are grateful however that he's at least finally put a shirt on.

"That must hurt."

"Oi!" He protests with a shocked expression, that at least brings a little smile to your lips. He grins at you, letting you know he took no offence at your words.

"As I was saying," he continues while you lay out his clothes to dry, the ones he dumped in a wet pile in the middle of the floor. "I've been thinking, and I know what's wrong with you. I want you to know it's okay."

The way his voice suddenly goes so gentle makes you look around. The pilot holds out his hand, wrapping his fingers around yours as he pulls you closer, holding your gaze steadily. You hope he doesn't notice the way your breath catches, or the heat blazing through you that makes your hands clammy.

"It's okay to be nervous," he continues, while your mouth goes dry. "I know spending the night with me is a lot, and it's going to be so difficult for you to keep your hands to yourself, but we are going to get through this together, and you'll be able to tell everyone about it when we get home."

You snatch your hand angrily out of his while the pilot bursts into laughter.

"Grow up and get in the damn bed!" You growl, climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and turning over away from him, your heart thundering in your chest. How, even when he was joking, did he manage to get so damn close to the truth?

"Why do you want me in bed so badly, huh? Thinking about late night cuddles?" You hear the pilot ask, feeling the mattress sink with his weight.

"No. When you're asleep, you're not talking," you bite out, still stinging from the embarrassment of your reaction when he was just being his usual annoying self.

Poe ignores your hostility and you feel him shrug.

"Listen, all I'm trying to do is tell you that we could eliminate some of this sexual tension. Well, if you wanted to."

Sexual tension wasn't exactly what you would say was between you, but there was always certainly something, although with Poe you imagine he had that with everyone. With you though, your feelings for the pilot ran a little deeper, not that you'd ever dare speak those aloud. The last thing you needed was the "it's not you, it's me" speech, especially if his behaviour was to drive you away. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

You run a hand down your face with an exasperated sigh. "There is absolutely no sexual tension, Poe. What there is, is murderous tension."

Poe lets out an exclamation of excitement.

"Oh my favourite kind!"

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile, lest you encourage him to continue.

"Please Poe, go to damn sleep," you whine, pulling the pillow from under your head and pressing it against your ear, trying to block out his incessant rambling.

"I will if you admit it."

"Admit what?" You groan, frustrated. Why can't he just shut the hell up and let you get through this?

"That you've thought about us."

"Poe I swear-" you take a deep breath, grabbing the cushion with one hand, rolling over with the intent on smothering him into silence. You're surprised to find the pilot on his side, almost nose to nose with you in the small bed.

"You've seriously never thought about us kissing?" Poe interrupts.

"I…I…" you’re thrown by his closeness, by his long lashes and soft smile, by the damn doe eyed look he's giving you.

You know there's no shutting him up until you tell him what he wants to hear so you take a breath. It wouldn't exactly be news to him, Poe knew just about everyone had considered kissing him at some point or another. The man did come with a reputation for having a rather skillful mouth after all.

"Fine! Maybe once or twice. Now go to damn sleep!" You growl, annoyed at him, and yourself.

The shit eating grin he gives you is enough to make you turn back over, tucking the pillow under your head and shutting your eyes tightly, as though that alone might drown him out.

"I knew it," he gloats with a happy sigh, clicking off the bedside lamp.

You grip the pillow, considering the option you still have of smothering him.

Thankfully he's quiet from that point and infuriatingly asleep in less than five minutes. You can feel the mattress move with his slow steady breaths.

Glancing over your shoulder he's laid out on his back, one arm tucked under his head, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he dreams, his full lips open with a soft sigh.

Turning around again you punch the lumpy pillow, trying to get more comfortable.

You will not think about kissing him. That was a one time thing. Okay, maybe three or four. Well maybe more… a lot more. You're determined tonight for once, you will not fall asleep thinking about his mouth on yours, you will absolutely not think about his lips on your skin, or his fingers caressing your breasts…

Someone suddenly shakes you and you open your eyes groggily, the room swimming and blurred as you blink sleep from your vision.

"What the hell?" You grumble, looking up at the pilot with his sleep tousled curls, still half asleep himself, one eye still shut and the other half open, bathed in the soft moonlight glow that sneaks through the blinds.

"You said my name," he mumbles, voice still sleep gravelled. "You alright?"

Flashes of his mouth sealed over your nipple, his tongue darting out to lick a path down to your navel, your hand gripping his hair, his mouth between your thighs.

Oh no. You absolutely did not have a sex dream about him. Not now, not here. Please no!

"You must have dreamt it," you swallow, desperately trying to play it cool. If Poe heard you while he was dead asleep, then you must have been loud. You feel the heat prickling the back of your neck.

"No, I definitely heard you say Poe," he insists.

"Well even if I did I'm fine so you can go back to sleep," you insist, shifting your legs restlessly. You're too warm. Well not just warm, burning hot, sweat cooling on your skin, an uncomfortable ache between your legs that screams of unsatisfied desire.

"You sure? You sounded a bit…breathless?" The pilot asks again, genuine concern in his tone. Although you can barely see him in the dim lighting you can still see the frown pulling his brows together, both eyes now open and studying you. You really don't want him to press any further. Even his voice brings back flashes of the dream, sultry whispers in your ear, his tongue lapping at your folds, the cry of his name from your mouth.

You swallow again, pushing the thoughts away.

"Really, I'm fine. Must have been a nightmare if it involved you anyway."

"Ouch." He holds his hands over his chest, collapsing back onto the mattress as though you wounded him, giving a long drawn out dramatic death rattle.

Pulling up the covers you throw them over his head with a laugh.

"Go back to sleep, Flyboy."

Laying back you shuffle as close to the edge as you can, putting as much distance as possible between you and the pilot. You wonder if it would be better for you to stay awake, just in case your dreams come back to haunt you. You absolutely wouldn't get away with saying his name a second time.

"It's okay you know," Poe speaks suddenly into the darkness as you lay rigid beside him. "If you were dreaming about me. I wouldn't mind."

You can't help but snort with laughter at that.

"You wouldn't mind if anyone dreams about you."

"True," Poe admits. You feel him shift and even though you can't see him, your eyes staring up at the ceiling, his gaze burns you.

"Let me rephrase. I'd like it if you dreamt about me." He continues.

When you don't turn to face him or grace him with an answer, you feel the shift of the mattress again as he lays back.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, and for once it sounds genuine, not a hint of playfulness in his tone. "I thought this would cheer you up. It's been a long week and you've just seemed so… I don't know. Not yourself, like you're bottling everything up. I figured maybe if you were thinking about how annoying I was, or making you laugh and fight with me, it would give you a bit of a distraction and an outlet, but I get it, maybe I took it too far, even if it is the truth."

It had been a long week, the longest in fact. While the mission itself had been a success, you had seen a lot of the First Order's destruction in the process, and it was worse than either of you had realised. You'd felt melancholy for days, the sights you've witnessed replaying in your mind. You hadn't noticed it much at the time, too lost in your own thoughts and angry that he was so loud that it was impossible to hear yourself think, but the more you think about it, the more you realise what he's been doing — trying to make you smile, keeping you distracted, making you focus on anything but what's happened. All you've done is complain to him about it.

Guilt twists hard in your stomach.

How typical of Poe to try and be helpful in the most unconventional way.

Part of you wants to reach for him, to cuddle him tight against you and thank him, to tell him you're here for him too if he needs someone. The other part keeps you rigidly pinned to the mattress, afraid to move in case so much as a finger brushes up against him, unsure if you can hold yourself back with the lingering memory of the dream.

"You mean the truth is that you really are worried I snore?" You ask, trying to break the unbearable tension.

His answer is the most serious he's sounded all day. There isn't a trace of humour, of teasing, just a tiredness, the kind that comes from pretending to smile all day, the kind that signals a surrender.

"No, I could live with that. I mean the dreaming part. I'd like it if you dreamt about me."

"Oh." You can't find anything else to say to that, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest you're sure even through his damaged ear he can hear it.

The ongoing silence suddenly feels heavy, like a crushing weight on your chest, the truth feels like lead in your belly. Poe hasn't made a single noise in a while but you get the distinct feeling he isn't asleep. You wonder if he's laying still too, muddling through his thoughts.

You can't take back your behaviour towards him but you can at least give him something in return.

"Poe?"

The response is instant, "Yeah?"

You take a breath, swallowing hard, your fingers twisting into the sheet at the edge of the bed, nervously gripping them.

"Every day," you whisper quietly.

"Huh?"

You feel a slight shift as he must turn to look at you.

You clear your throat, staring hard enough at the ceiling that your eyes start to burn, repeating yourself louder.

"I said every day. I lied earlier. It's not once or twice. I think about kissing you every day. I have for a while," you admit.

A sudden blinding light obscures your vision, making you cry out in surprise and squeeze your eyes shut against the sudden intrusion. Coloured lights flash behind your eyelids and you have to blink a few times in order to see anything.

When the room comes back into focus Poe is sitting bolt upright in the bed, staring down at you, the bedside lamp illuminating his head like a synthetic halo.

"You were dreaming about me!"

With a groan you grab the pillow and hold it over your own face, deciding if you can't smother him you could just smother yourself instead, which seems like the better option than actually having this conversation.

You feel the pillow tug back gently, but you hold fast, refusing to give it up.

"Come on, let go and talk to me. You've said it now." A grunt of effort and a hard tug on the pillow before Poe sighs. "I'm not going away so you're either going to suffocate or talk."

"Then I'll suffocate," you mumble into the pillow, already regretting saying anything.

"You know I can't hear you right? Come on." This time he tucks his fingers under yours and peels them off the pillow cover until it falls halfway off your face.

"Better," he smiles, letting go of your hands to remove it entirely. "Why are you hiding from me?"

"I don't want to see your smug smile about how right you are," you glare, trying to hide your embarrassment that you've blurted out exactly what you've been trying to conceal from him. Once more, Poe takes your attitude in his stride.

"I've thought about kissing you too, you know? In fact I've thought about kissing you at least four times since you woke me up." He gives a shrug, like you should know that, like it's completely utterly normal for someone to think about kissing you that many times in the space of ten minutes.

You bite your lip, familiar tendrils of desire reigniting in your belly. Your body, still clearly on edge from your illicit dream, thrums with tension.

"So why haven't you done it yet?"

Poe rolls his eyes, as though the answer is obvious. "Clearly I'm building up the sexual tension for it!"

You're done letting him have the upper hand in this. In a surge of confidence, and to stop the smug look on his face, you wrap your hand around the back of the pilot's neck, before you pull his lips to yours. You feel Poe's brief smile, probably of victory, against your mouth before he kisses you back.

It's soft at first, almost sweet tender kisses, short and playful, getting to know each other. He kisses your top and bottom lip, he gives you tiny pecks of affection, he licks playfully at your bottom lip.

Effortlessly he shifts his weight over you, slotting himself between your thighs as though you were made to fit together. His tongue licks into your mouth, slick and hot, sliding against your own as he presses his body against yours, your kisses descending into something much more passionate.

Maker, the rumours weren't wrong. He is good at this, better than good actually, infuriatingly good. You can't even find any fault to tease him about.

You tangle your fingers in his curls, tugging gently and causing the pilot to moan into your mouth. You give a shiver of desire at the sound, your mind filled with thoughts of how you can draw it from him in other ways. Poe's mind seems to be on a similar track, his hips grinding against yours, pressing himself against your core and causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the jolt of pleasure.

Perhaps there was a little sexual tension after all.

The pilot pulls away, his chest heaving, eyes dark and lips kiss swollen, his curls messy and tousled from your fingers.

"Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away so quickly," he apologises, swallowing hard as he clearly tries to get a handle on himself, holding his body off yours, allowing a brief respite for you both to collect yourselves.

"I don't mind getting carried away," you admit, still feeling feverish with his closeness, your mind filled with the fantasy of your dreams. You raise your hips, pressing up against his clothed length, making the pilot let out a choked moan of surprise before his eyes darken.

"Well in that case," he grins, recovering all too quickly. Desire coils in your belly and before you can drag his mouth back to yours, in true Poe fashion, he continues talking. "Why don't you tell me what I was doing in this dream of yours?"

You give him a coy smile. As if he's going to get it out of you that easily.

"Fulfilling my deepest fantasy," you answer as Poe licks his lips, eagerly leaning forward to listen.

"Oh yeah? What fantasy might that be?"

"You were quiet for a whole five minutes," you sigh dreamily. It takes a second to register with him before he leans back bursting out laughing. You can't help but start to giggle yourself.

"Okay, I deserved that!" He laughs. "My methods may be unorthodox, but they work!"

He was entirely correct in that him being his usual annoying self was exactly what you had needed as a distraction, although you're sure there were less annoying ways to achieve the same means.

"I don't know. I actually considered murdering you at least a few times. Maybe I still will, when you're fast asleep and least expecting it," you warn, running a finger along your throat in a playful threat.

Poe hums, leaning back down over you, caging you to the bed with his arms.

"What exactly makes you think either of us will be going back to sleep?"

Oh.

There's another rush of heat that tingles against your skin, shooting straight down to your aching core. It's not at all helped by the fact Poe leans down to capture your lips, his tongue slipping between your teeth as he moves one hand to grip your hip, sliding it slowly up your body and under your shirt to trail his fingers across your breast.

You moan into his mouth as he rolls your peaked nipple between his fingers, grinding yourself up against him, uncaring of whatever commentary he wants to make as long as you can deal with this rapidly intensifying desire.

When he finally pulls away once more it's hard to get your breath, especially as he continues to steal little kisses from you, his fingers still resting against your skin.

Bracing himself on one arm above you, the other slides down to tiptoe over your hip.

"Do I have your consent to remove these ugly pants?" He grins teasingly, pulling at the waistband of your shorts. They had seen better days in all fairness but you hadn't really considered anyone else seeing them.

"Hey, they aren't that bad! Not like you're the pinnacle of fashion." In retaliation you poke your finger through a hole in the leg of his threadbare sleep pants, making the pilot laugh.

"These are my lucky pants."

You can't help but snort with a roll of your eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard."

Poe raises one eyebrow, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

"They got you into my bed didn't they?"

You scoff, "The hotel management got me into this bed."

"You know what, you're right. Maybe I should go thank them now," Poe muses, his grin turning into a laugh as you wrap your arms around him, preventing him from leaving.

"Will you please just stop talking?" You laugh, wondering how much of the night is even left. You swear if the sun rises and you haven't resolved this, you will combust of need, and you will take the pilot out with you.

Poe raises his eyebrows.

"Well, I would, but you still haven't answered my original question."

You stare at him, trying to figure out what exactly he's talking about before you realise.

"For the love of… Yes Poe, I give you consent to do whatever you want to me as long as you stop dragging this out like a massive tease!"

The pilot lets out a soft chuckle, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, a soft gesture in a stark contrast to what leaves his mouth, "dangerous words, sweetheart."

You almost shudder with the flash of desire that bolts through you, making sharp heat rush across your skin and your pussy clench.

"I need you to make me a promise first though," his fingers slip across your abdomen, resting just above the waistband of your pants. The feverish desire at his touch is overshadowed by annoyance that he's still talking. Maker, you swear he won't survive till sunrise.

"Po-

"I'm going to need you to be loud," he purrs in your ear, cutting you off as his hand slips under your waistband. "I don't want to miss a single noise you make."

Even if you wanted to be quiet, the pad of his finger slipping across your clit causes your body to react in a primal way, letting out an embarrassing loud moan for such a little touch.

Poe chuckles.

"Just like that." He praises, sliding his finger down further to dip into your entrance, letting out a soft groan of his own at how wet you are, before he drags it back up, spreading your slick over your aching clit and making you whine again. "Can you do that for me? Can you be loud enough?"

The best you can muster is a whimper as he slowly thrusts his finger knuckle deep into you.

"Nu-huh," Poe chides, "loud."

A second finger quickly joins the first, stretching your walls and filling you more than your own ever could. This time you arch your back off the bed, chasing the blissful feeling as a much louder groan tears itself from your throat.

"Better," Poe grins. "I heard that one."

You want to smother him, you want to kiss him, but most of all, despite his annoying little smug smile, you still desperately want to fuck him.

You decide on option two, at least for the moment, pulling his lips down to yours.

His tongue licks into your mouth as he thrusts his fingers inside you at a leisurely pace, swallowing each whine and moan you give at the pleasure skittering and coiling in you.

Poe curls his fingers, pressing up against that spot inside you, making you pull away from his kiss to throw your head back in pleasure, a loud groan of his name escaping. You're half expecting him to make some sort of cocky comment, but Poe seems as lost in this as you are. He drops his head to press open mouthed kisses across your neck, biting and sucking, marking and claiming you as his.

When he works a third finger into you, his thumb brushing against your clit, you come undone. Normally you would feel embarrassed about how loud you are, the way your body shudders and heaves, your pussy clenching hard around his fingers, but the shaky little fuck Poe groans in your ear, obliterates any notion of embarrassment.

As you come down from your high, your body still trembling from the aftershock, whining as he slips his fingers from you, you realise he's breathing almost as heavily as you are, his breath coming out in short pants as he looks you over.

"I need to fuck you," he growls, clearly struggling with his own needs.

You're already nodding before he gets halfway through his request. Whatever he needs, whatever he wants, you'll give it to him without hesitation.

He all but tears your pyjamas from you, making short work of removing them and throwing them across the room, before his join the unceremonious pile on the floor.

This time you allow yourself to look, you allow yourself to take in his broad chest, the little scars crisscrossed with a larger one, old and new, your gaze trailing down across his abdomen to the line of hair that guides your eyes down to -

"Are you done admiring?" Poe's amused tone makes your eyes snap back up to his, your face growing warm with embarrassment that you've been caught staring, although you know he has probably done exactly the same to you.

"I don't know about admiring," you shrug as though your pussy isn't pulsing at the thought of him burying his cock deep inside you. "Think the resistance needs to re-evaluate their best looking pilot status."

Poe simply grins at you, seeing through your nonchalance all too clearly.

"Good to know you like what you see. Tell me, how wet did it make you to see me earlier, all soaked and shirtless?"

"Didn't," is all you are able to punch out as he leans down, pressing his body against yours, rolling his hips just slightly so his hard cock brushes against your slick folds, holding himself at your entrance like the tease he is.

"Really?" He smirks, "Somehow I think you are lying. But alright, I'll get the truth out of you, one way or another." The threat gives you a rush of excitement, wondering exactly how he's going to do that. Not that you're going to let him know that so easily.

"Are you going to keep talking or are we going to-" your question cuts off into a gasp of pleasure as he presses himself inside you, slowly, so you can feel every vein and ridge as he stretches your walls.

"Are we going to what?" He grins.

You slap his arm in reply but there's no power behind it, you're too busy concentrating on the wet noise as he pulls out of you before slowly pressing back in, making you whimper in need. The first time your pussy clenches around him it's involuntary, the second time it's just to enjoy the little groan the action draws from the pilot.

"Stop," he warns, his head dropping to your shoulder, clearly trying to steady his breathing as you clench around him a third time, just for fun. "Taking it slow."

"You don't have to take it slow," you assure him. For a moment you think it's sweet he's considering your comfort but you're more than ready for this.

"I want to," he grits as you clench around him again. The tone of his voice lets you know he's digging his stubborn heels in and nothing will change his mind. Even so you need more than he's offering. This has gone on too long, the tension is too much, the need drumming through your veins screams to be sated.

You whine, you beg, you plead, you drag your nails along his back and arch your hips against him, but he doesn't give. He rocks into you slowly, achingly slowly, maddeningly slowly, and for all your initial protests you enjoy every second of it.

The pleasure builds just as slow, each roll of his hips winding the cord tighter and tighter until you're sure you can't take any more, and then it pulls further. You can't do anything but surrender to the bliss it offers, raising your hips to meet his in the hopes his resolve will eventually break.

"You're incredible you know?" He pants against your mouth, sweat beading at his hairline, his curls sticking to his forehead, his eyes hooded and glazed. "Not just at this, but this too."

All you can do is stare at him, somewhat dazed, wondering how he's even thinking in coherent sentences right now, let alone speaking them. Somewhere your subconscious registers his words and it accompanies a host of butterflies in your belly.

"Just you, exactly as you are. You are incredible," he repeats, only this time it comes with a much harder thrust. You arch against him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your head drops back against the pillows.

"Poe, please," you beg, unsure if you are able to take much more. Clearly neither can he, his name on your lips undoing his patience. He wraps his fingers around your thigh, hoisting your leg up over his hip as he sinks deeper into you, picking up the pace.

His hips slam into yours, filling the room with the sound of flesh on flesh, accompanied only by his curses and praises that fall freely and loudly. For all his requests for you to be loud the pilot's own moans are enough to drown yours out.

Working a hand between your bodies you press a finger to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the hardened nub as Poe angles his hips, pressing up against the blissful spot inside you. Your whole body almost arches up off the bed with the combined pleasure catapulting through you, an almost screamed curse fighting its way out of your throat.

Poe groans low and shakily, barely holding his own climax back, his thrusts becoming messy and mistimed.

"That's it baby. Fuck wanna feel you cum, wanna hear you," he groans, completely wrecked.

That's all it takes. Your orgasm hits suddenly and brightly, your whole body writhing and stiffening as the pleasure overtakes you, coursing through your veins like lava, making your vision go white as you tremble through it. Poe had wanted to hear you, but the purely feral noise you let out, you wouldn't be surprised if the whole damn hotel heard you. You're sure Poe would probably enjoy it if they did.

It's almost too much for your oversensitive body to feel Poe thrusting into you faster and harder, chasing his own end, babbled curses and praises falling from his lips. You shake with overstimulation when his hips stutter, emptying himself deep inside you, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders as you cling desperately to him, your thighs trembling, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Poe half collapses on you, letting your leg down slowly as he presses soft kisses to your neck, against every love bite he's given you in the heat of the moment. You suspect there may be quite a few questions when you get back to the base tomorrow. Turning your head you press a soft kiss to his cheek, making him lean up to look at you.

"Better than you dreamt?" He grins, still flushed and panting.

"I didn't dream about that," you giggle breathlessly, shaking limbs melting into the mattress, sated and tired. Poe raises his eyebrows, letting out a thoughtful hum before he suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper and immediately miss the feeling of him inside you.

Shuffling down your body he presses a soft kiss between your breasts. You frown at him, confused by his sudden movement and how he still has so much energy. How is it you're a wrecked mess and he's still acting like he can go another ten rounds? Why can't he just be still for one second?

Another kiss to your ribs, first the right side, then the left, moving slowly down, before he pauses, looking up through his lashes at you.

"You didn't dream about us making love?"

You go to make fun of his choice of language but before you have a chance he licks a hot stripe down to your naval, making your breath catch with the sudden rush of pleasure. You're starting to question if he's able to read your thoughts, if he knows the truth of your dream already. Perhaps you had said more than just his name in your sleep?

"Nope, not about us," you breathe unsteadily, trying to hold yourself back from begging anything from him again. You suspect you know what's coming next and honestly, you're not sure if your body is able to handle it, barely over your first two climaxes. Still you weren't about to give in to his questions, he'd never shut up if you admit it. "Told you, I wasn't dreaming about you."

"You are a terrible liar," Poe states, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. The rush of cold air against your heated flesh makes you gasp and the pilot smirks, his eyes flickering down to your swollen cunt, leaking with your combined climax before coming back to you, a devilish grin taking over his face.

"'Whatever I want to do to you' still stand?" He asks.

All you can do is nod mutely, a fresh wave of need building despite your exhaustion.

"Good," Poe grins, pinning your thighs to the mattress, preventing you from moving. "Because I'm going to get the truth out of you my way."

He does exactly that. He drags the truth out of you to every question he wants answered and more, twice with his mouth, then again with his cock, reducing you to a babbling trembling mess, willing to tell him whatever he wanted to know, and he's infuriatingly smug about it.

~

Poe had been surprisingly tender afterwards. He'd carefully cleaned you up, brought you a glass of water, massaged your sore muscles, before he'd finally pulled you into his arms, holding you close against him.

Of course you had known Poe was kind, of course you knew he took care of the people he was close to, even those who only spent the night with him. There were enough stories around the base to give you a general idea of that, but for some reason you can't place this felt different, it felt intimate.

What surprised you more than anything was how quiet he was now. Appart from a few murmured words about how good you had been for him, and to check you were alright, he hadn't said much at all. It was almost unnerving after his behaviour all day. Really if you had known this would have shut him up you might have jumped on him hours ago. But now, the silence seems worrying.

"You okay?" You ask, your head still against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as his fingers draw mindless patterns against your back.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I was just thinking…maybe we can do this again? Sometime soon? Be in the same bed I mean." The pilot asks. He doesn't sound like the cocky confident Flyboy you're expecting. If anything he sounds a little unsure of his own question.

You won't give him the satisfaction of the enthusiastic yes that tries to escape. The last thing you want out of this night is to become some regular casual hook-up. Poe wasn't exactly known for keeping long term relationships, citing the fact it was too difficult during the middle of a war, which you suppose you could understand. He was at least always very clear about that with whoever he got involved with.

Equally you don't want to say no. You want this, him. You want the moments of passion and quiet, you want the teasing and fights, you want more in whatever way you can.

In the end you go for the middle ground, giving him an option of more, while closely guarding yourself against this being a casual fuck.

"Hmm, suppose if you buy me dinner first then I might consider it. I don't make a habit of sleeping with people without dates."

It's disarmingly sweet when he presses a soft kiss to your head, tightening his arm around you. Your chest aches all the more for moments like this.

"Alright. A date it is." You can hear the smile in his voice, sleepy and happy.

You didn't exactly expect him to agree to that so easily, and while it gives you a flutter of hope, you don't quite trust he catches your meaning.

"I said I'd consider, I didn't say I'd agree. I might have other options," you warn, trying to get him to consider what he wants you to be to him.

Poe lets out a soft chuckle.

"You say that like your pretending it wasn't the best fuck of your life, and you're desperate to do it again."

You lean up on your arm to look at him, raising an eyebrow and fixing him with an unimpressed look at his cockyness.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he challenges confidently, "because if I am, then I'm just going to have to keep trying. The aim is to make you fall hopelessly in love with me eventually."

"Through sex?" You laugh, ignoring the now familiar butterflies that tell you he might be closer to his aim than he knows.

Poe shrugs, "through whatever necessary means, as long as I get to keep you as mine."

It's almost a knee jerk reaction to open your mouth and tell him you aren't a pet or property to be owned, but as you meet his gaze you realise you are once more judging him a little too quickly and all too harshly. It's clear he means more than that, his gaze open and vulnerable.

A warm feeling of familiarity, of safety, of something bigger, spreads through your very bones, something that shows there is much more than lust and affection, perhaps for both of you.

Your response is much softer than your initial reaction might have been, had you not taken a moment.

"Take me to dinner tomorrow then?"

"I think tomorrow might be today," Poe smiles, nodding towards the window where the faint pink light of dawn is starting to peek through the drawn blinds. You groan knowing sunrise both means you really should untangle yourself from the pilot and head back to base.

"Well honestly I think I've had enough of you for one day." You tease, pushing yourself off him and sitting up, debating if you can handle another cold shower. In all honesty a cold shower is probably exactly what you need after you make the mistake of glancing down at Poe, still naked, the sheet barely covering his more private parts, his curls messy from your fingers, peering up at you with a half smile.

"We both know you can never get enough of me," Poe states, before he wraps his arms around you and drags you back down onto the bed. He throws one leg over yours, effectively trapping you next to him as he snuggles up close to you.

You don't bother fighting, too tired from the night's activity to argue your way out of his grip. Sighing you sink into the bed, allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

"I knew this would work," Poe hums happily in your ear. You mumble enough of a sound to make him realise you're asking what he means.

"Getting you in a hotel room with me would make you admit you wanted me."

You give another tired hum in acknowledgement before his words finally hit you, and you sit up to stare at him, suddenly wide awake. Poe grins back at you, knowing exactly what you are thinking.

"Tell me this was not some plan to get me into bed!"

Poe feigns a comedic shocked expression, holding one hand to his chest as he stares open mouthed at you.

"Of course not! What do you think of me? Why is your opinion of me is so low that you think I'd go as far to break the ship engine, so we'd be stuck here alone, find the busiest hotel on this planet, specifically book one room knowing the others would be booked already by the time we got here, ask for the smallest bed-"

He doesn't get to continue. Picking up the pillow you repeatedly hit him hard with it while Poe laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm joking. I'm joking, I swear," he laughs, grabbing his own pillow and hitting you back. "I'd never purposely break a ship."

"You manipulative little shit,"

Neither of you surrender until the bed is covered with feathers, the pillowcases empty and discarded, your limbs tangled together, lips pressed against sweat salted skin. This time it's you who pries the truth from him, your way.

"My methods may be unorthodox but -" he gets no further before you smack him in the face with your pillow, causing him to dissolve into laughter once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[mangodestroyer]

June 16th marks the two year anniversary of when I started working at my current job.

And holy shit, I can't believe how much my physical and mental health suffered for it. Along with other things that had been happening in my life, I am 90% convinced that I developed a form of social anxiety as a trauma response (something I may have already been suffering from to a mild extent). I used to love getting out of the house to go shopping and whatnot. Now I much prefer to order online or pre-order on apps so I can swoop in and pick it up. And the idea of going out and socializing is just... bleh!

My physical health is just not what it used to be either. I've been getting so many cysts. Most of which are on my joints from overuse. I used to love going for walks and hikes, but now it hurts to walk and I'm too tired to do those things. Not to mention, the sciatica I had mostly recovered from, which I got from my last retail job, has kind of made a comeback. Also, my feet used to never hurt. I used to be a very limber, athletic individual before working retail. I didn't really have body pains. Now I feel like I need to rest for two days to make the majority of the pains go away (weed, heated blankets, and ice help). And today, I had to work a lot more slowly because my entire shoulder area would sometimes get sharp pains that would make me nauseated. I've never had shoulder pain like that until a couple months ago. It extends all the way to my elbow and into the center of my chest and my back.

Also, I had to take a long break from school because I literally could not muster up the mental energy to get through my classes and need to save up some money so that I don't have to work while going to college. One of the reasons I'm even going to college is to get away from this kind of work (which I've come to find does not end up being the case for everyone, but look, I made it so far into my degree so I might as well get it finished so that I have a chance).

Not to mention, the lack of respect. The erratic scheduling and requests to cover shifts has just destroyed my sleep schedule. And today alone, I had to hold so many customer's hands as they ask for so many things while I stress over getting my tasks done. I need to ask management permission to do certain parts of my job and they drag their feet and forget to do so. So I have to remind them twice. I literally avoid getting them involved as much as possible because it's a headache and I just want the job to get done. And then there's the condescending, "What did you do this time?" attitude. And sometimes... sometimes it is me (sorry I don't remember to do everything perfectly in a fast paced, stressful environment) and sometimes technology will literally start pulling the stupidest shit. I'm not even kidding. I don't ever want to touch the service desk at this point because somehow I always find a way to break it. I should become a debugger or something. This never happens with my home computer tho.

And here's something existentially horrifying: some people work jobs like this 60+ hours a week. Just to barely cover rent, bills, and food. If they even are managing that. I'm only doing this 20 hours a week, with the occasional full time week... I'd literally rather rough it in the woods than do this 60+ hours a week.

Hopefully I end up getting somewhere with my side gig, in the mean time. I'm not asking to make a fortune off of it. I just want a little extra cash to help me get by, maybe even have some spending money. Thank God my dad happens to be really into the project and is pushing me to do it/wants to help out. Doubt I would have been able to do this without his expertise.

[mental-mona]

How the Mentally Ill Can Improve Their Relationships

  I've done multiple posts already on how people should treat loved ones with mental illnesses. Now I'd like to look at the other side of the equation: ways for us mentally ill folks to optimize our interactions with others so that we get the support we need without frustrating everyone around us. Before you start yelling at me that it's not our job to worry about how our mental illnesses make our friends feel, let me make it clear that while in theory I agree with you on that, in reality the rest of the world is going to get annoyed with us very quickly if we just kind of throw ourselves out there with no thought to how our behavior is affecting our loved ones. Agreed, when people react to us in super annoying ways or decide that they're "sick of our drama" and cut us off, their meanness is not our fault. However, these are some things we can do to improve the connection from our end, and maybe even prevent some of the irritating behavior.

TL;DR: Don't expect free therapy or mind-reading, tell them how best to deal with you that day, and accept that any one person's ability to help you is limited. Maybe it requires a bit more mindfulness than you're used to, but it's not impossible, and unless your loved ones are either complete jerks or already burned out, these things make a difference. Give them a shot.

Tell your loved ones what you need from them as best you can. Your friends may not have any experience with mental illness and therefore have no clue what you need at any given time; they need to be able to take their cues from you. Before you call/message your loved ones, stop and think about what responses you're looking for in each conversation, then express what it is you need. You're much more likely to get the support you want if you can tell them at the start of a conversation that, for example, you just need to vent, or you need reassurance, or you need their help with a chore.

Tell your loved ones if something they're saying/doing is hurtful. As I said, people are clueless, and sometimes the most well-meaning ones can say and do the stupidest things. Since your loved ones are not mind readers, if something they're doing is annoying you, politely call them on it and if possible suggest a better way to treat you. As with any conflict, use "I statements" and try to be nice about it to the extent that you can without toning down your message. If someone just won't stop, perhaps they're not someone you want in your life right now.

Warn your loved ones if today's mood requires extra understanding. It's hard for people to deal with weird behaviors and displays of emotion if they're blindsided by them. If something about your mood requires extra consideration, e.g. you're manic and might burst into giggle fits or say wildly inappropriate things, or you're super anxious about seeing your folks and just the word "mother" will make you burst into tears, warn your loved ones about that at the beginning of your conversations. That way there's less potential for them to step on emotional landmines or be completely thrown off by your disconcerting behavior.

Back off if a loved one can't help you at a given moment. Sometimes people are busy when you call, or are shouldering their own huge life burdens and won't be able to carry any more weight for a while. Don't take it personally; they'd be there for you if they could, but now (and possibly the foreseeable future) is not a good time. Don't give them an "Oh, I guess you're busy/have bigger problems than me, that's ok I'll just go sit in my puddle of self-pity" guilt trip, don't insist on talking anyway, just wish them well and try again another time.

Don't get too clingy. No one person should have to bear the burden of all your sorrows on top of their own. Have multiple confidantes, and regularly switch up who gets the job of being your rock for that week/day/hour. If your coping mechanism involves talking to a ton of friends on a regular basis, each friend should get the daily digest, not 3 calls a day of little tidbits. In fact, unless you're trying to set up plans to see each other that day, you should probably leave it after 2 attempts at calling if you only get voicemail. If you prefer instant messaging, as I said above, respect your loved ones' time and don't go nuts if they don't answer you immediately or have to leave or whatever, don't try to talk to them every spare moment, and don't make a habit of kvetching at them the second they come online. Roughly the same goes for texting.

Don't turn your loved ones into surrogate therapists. Loved ones are there to be generally emotionally and sometimes physically supportive, but it's not their job to help you process every thought and emotion or get to the root of deep-seated problems. Questions like, "I think that my craving for approval is at the heart of most of my issues. Does this make sense to you?," are topics that are far more suited to discussions with your therapist than discussions with your friends. Basically, the issue is this: Your therapist is trained to advise and/or guide you in a direction that will eventually lead to you resolving your issues. Your loved ones are not so trained, and may give you bad advice or quite simply be clueless as to how to respond.

[kissorkill16]

Investigating: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic

By JJ

Summary: Jay Roth and Quentin Gershowitz investigating Mayor Tavish.

"What the hell is he doing?"

Today wasn't like any regular day. Jay was just driving home from work, trying not to think about his missing son, when he saw Quentin in the corner of his eye, climbing over the mayor's fence.

Jay had met Quentin when Miguel introduced him to him as their new partner in the Raven Brooks banner. He had taken a liking to Quentin...

But now he saw him as a weird stalker.

Jay got out of his car, slamming the door behind him before following Quentin over the fence. He tried not to make noise, but he couldn't help grunting or struggling over the fence and eventually falling over. He landed on his back in a rose bush.

Quentin squealed. He turned around and was relieved to see his colleague.

"Jay, hi. Didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah. I could tell you the same thing. What're you doing here?", Jay asked. He didn't notice his voice raising before Quentin slapped his hand over his mouth.

"Shh, keep it down or we'll both get caught."

The two guys tip toed over to the backyard. Quentin noticed the back door was unlocked, and he quickly tip toed inside. Jay wanted to yell at him to get out, but he couldn't, because that would mean exposing both of them. He tip toed quietly after Quentin, and his heart was beating so fast right now.

"Quentin, why're you even here?"

"Why're you here?"

"I asked you first. Why are you breaking into the mayor's house? This is breaking so many trespassing laws."

"You're here too."

Jay was so close to strangling this guy.

"Susan, cancel my meeting with the EarthPro CEO. I swear I can't stand that guy.", the mayor was nearby, and he was talking on the phone.

"I don't care what you tell him, Susan! Tell him I had another important meeting with someone else! Just make sure he fucks off!", Mayor Tavish snapped before he hung up the phone. "Jesus fuck, the people I work with are stupid.", he growled before he slouched down on his chair.

Quentin was backing away from the hallway, but he tripped over one of his shoelaces and fell over. Jay stilled himself in fear. Mayor Tavish jolted upwards, and his shocked expression turned to anger.

"You again.", he growled. "How many times do I have to keep on throwing you out of my house?!", he screamed. Running after the two guys.

Jay and Quentin screamed before running away, hurdling themselves over the fence as soon as they reached outside. They hopped into Jay's car, driving away quickly, but carefully as to not go past the speed limit.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever done. Why the hell were we there?"

Quentin looked at him. "The Mayor is probably involved in some extreme illegal activities, and I'm trying to expose him."

"Is that your new article idea?", asked Jay.

"Yes. I'm a cut throat reporter, it's my duty to prod. Anyone else you know that's involved in some illegal activities?"

Jay looked at his lap. "Probably."

"Really? Who?"

Jay felt his eyes well up with tears. "My son, Nicky has been missing for weeks now. I hate thinking about it, but I think someone in my neighborhood might be a kidnapper. I don't want to go around accusing people of kidnapping, but I just want to find my son."

Quentin felt sorry for Jay. He put a hand on his shoulder, and pulled him into a hug. After this, he was going to investigate Friendly Court.

Ok, so I can’t help but think about the fact Quentin, if he worked at the Banner, probably also knew Miguel and Jay, and that they were probably coworkers.

But like, imagine meeting your coworker, and then the next time you see them, they’re literally breaking into the mayor’s house.

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday

NGL this almost didn't happen mainly because I've been kinda disatified with a lot that I've written today. I did get this scene with Jaster and Mij written and I've gotten to the next part where they are observing a suspected Death Watch safehouse so the plot is inching forward slowly.

I've just been so damn sleepy all day because of the shit weather and my bones have been aching which just makes me want to bundle up under blankets and not do anything but sleep. So the brain fog has been real.

So I have this scene, I'm not happy with it and can't really figure out how to write it in a way I am going to be happy about it. Sometimes you just gotta accept things aren't going to be perfect and you just need to push through to the next part. I might end up heavily editing this once I figure out some stuff in my head. I hate how we have no real firm idea of what the Mand'alor system is beyond vague autocratic? Prolly? Surely they have councils of advisors right? No one person is going to be able to rule a dozen planets without some kind of system in place. Is it a sorta of feudal court system a la say Charlamagne? We canonly have barons so is it more of a medival pre-Barons Rebellion England sort of system with huge planetary barony being represented at central court?

WHO THE FUCK KNOWS. There has to be some kind of representative government of some kind though? Surely. -drags hands down face- If not, I think Jaster is just going to suggest that because autocracies never end well. Pffffft. Fuck me I think I'm going to have to do some reading on early Greek democractic governing. I detest the idea of the Roman Republic era Sentate with it's horrifically unbalanced power-structure of the Patrician and equastrian classes versus the plebians. But I of course, as an American fully recognize the failures in OUR version of demoncracy. And I'll be the first to admit I've never been a huge student of Greek history beyond like the broadest of strokes.

Hi yes, I am debating if I need to invent an entire cobbled together style of Mandalorian government for the needs of my fanfic. Welcome to my stupid blog where we obsess over the STUPIDEST of details for hours or days on end.

ANYWAY, WIP Sunday, right let's post this before it's Midnight shall we?

As always, it's unedited blah blah blah. You know the drill.

“I see you two are getting along famously.” Jaster drawled as he took up Jango’s place in packing the food away.

“He’s a good kid. For the most part.” 

“He is.” Jaster agreed, not taking offense to that little caveat because he was all too aware of how maddening Jango could be at times. “How is he doing? He was pretty upset.” 

“He’s gone through a lot recently. I’m not going to lie it’s definitely taken its toll. And he’s blaming himself because Montross go away.” Mij confessed with a frown.

“He screwed up, there’s no doubt about that.” The dark-haired man was frowning down at the container in his hands. “But I would have done the same thing at his age. Hell, my first instinct was do do the same thing but Jango just doesn’t have the experience yet to see running directly at a problem isn’t the only solution.”

“He’s young, hopefully that’ll come with time.” 

“I’ll need to talk to him about it. But now probably isn’t the time. He’s so damn prickly, I swear, half the time I say the wrong thing and make it worse.”

“Welcome to having a teenage son. Or teenager in general I suspect.” The younger man stated blandly. 

Jaster shot him an exasperated look over one shoulder which didn’t bother him in the least.

“He’s desperate to be treated like an adult and his ego is about as thin as a piece of flimsi so if you treat him like a kid or if he even perceives you are treating him that way, he’s going to shut down on you.”

He reminded himself Mij had been right, the last time they talked about Jango. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“If I can make a suggestion? Don’t put it off too long. the kid feels pretty bad about how things went down with Montross. His head might not be in the game if he’s worried about disappointing you twice in one night.” 

“I’ll take it under advisement, thanks, Mij. Though, I’m also going to politely ask you to butt out of my personal life.” Jaster said as he put the food container down and turned to look fully at the doctor. “I know you called Plo Koon to come here tonight. Myles was passed out and there is no way Jango would have ever voluntarily invited him into our problems.” 

To his credit, the younger man didn’t quell under his heavy stare. 

“Understood but I’m not going to apologize for doing it. You went through a traumatic event tonight and needed support. Who all here would you have turned to?”

The infuriating thing was he wasn’t wrong and he knew it, but it set a terrible precedent and he needed to nip it in the bud right now. 

“It puts Plo in a precarious position though. What we’re planning on doing? Not going to fly with the Coruscanti government if we get caught. Imagine the scandal if a Jedi is linked to that. There’s a reason I was trying to keep him away from this bantha-karked rodeo.” 

Mij seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. “I see your point, I won’t call him in again.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the thought and there is some truth to your words. But there’s a reason the adage about being lonely at the top exists.” 

“That’s a terrible expression and blatantly untrue. I can cite plenty of studies that show a leader who has a strong support system around them has a much more stable history of commanding while those who try and do it all themselves tend to burn out, become paranoid despots who cling to their power or generally suffer a decline in leadership ability.” 

“If I start showing despotic tendencies, I’m sure you will call me out on it.” He pointed out with a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

“It doesn’t need to get to that point is what I am saying,  Jaster.” Mij said firmly. “I know asking you to trust right now is pretty damned hard. But you have a chance to build up a support system around yourself. Especially now that the garbage that is someone like Montross has taken themselves out of the picture.” 

“You’re right, it’s too much to ask for right now.” Jaster stated flatly.

“I get that, but you can start thinking about it now. Realistically, do you have to be the one taking point on leading the company on campaigning? Imagine if you handed some of the day to day operations to a few trusted lieutenents so you can focus on the big picture? Things like this peace summit.”

“I’m not going to abandon my people or my post.”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all. Stars, I swear in so many ways, Mandalorians have this all or nothing propensity for absolutist thinking that is positively maddening” Mij grumbled, sounded frustrated. In a lot of ways, because he had come to the Mandalorian culture as an adult, he was both blessed and cursed with an outsider perspective on his adopted culture’s strengths and weaknesses. 

Jaster often found he had some genuinely interesting insight which was why he put up with the man’s often cranky or borderline insubordinate attitude at times. 

“Then what do you mean exactly?”

“I’m not suggesting you retire from your post but realistically, do you not have enough trusted commanders who can handle a lot of the day to day headaches like planning out the next campaign, worrying about logistics or even negotiating with clients?”

“So giving up leadership essentially?” Jaster asked with a trace of annoyance in his voice now. 

“Delegating. You can still supervise but do you really need to be in the field every single time in the thick of things?” 

“This is how I became Mand’alor though. You’re suggesting I  give up the thing that is central to my power-base in a lot of ways.” 

“It would give you more time to shore-up said power-base and expand it. You implemented the council of advisors and that helped give you the power-base to get this far. Try expanding upon that idea. There are other ways of ruling than just being a simple autocratic rule.”

“I like bending tradition as much as the next idealistic fool but you can only bend it too far before the people will rebel. There’s a reason things have always been done this way for the most part. Yes, there have been short-lived experiments and attempts at doing things different ways but they almost always ended in disaster.”

“Because things have worked out so well for Mandalore thus far?”

“We’ve survived thus far.” 

“That is a load of bantha poodoo and now you’re just being contrarian to be contrarian because you don’t believe that <I>osik</I> anymore than I do. We wouldn’t be here if that were the case.” 

He couldn’t really argue with the doctor because he was right, Jaster’s pride just objected at admitting that. 

“So what are you suggesting, exactly?”

“I think you should talk to someone like Kryze who’s prolly go more experience in the matter than both of us combined.” 

“With all that free time I have right now.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find some time to carve out on this trip. He seems like a pretty solid bloke, all things considered.”

“He does, and I don’t necessarily disagree with you on the experience point. He’s definitely been born and raised in the politics side of things so maybe tapping him for advise isn’t a terrible idea.”

“Thanks, I have those on occasion.” 

[heywriters]

be me driving down a country road on my way home from work. I crest a hill and i see a black speck of trash or debris near the center line. as i come up on it i am momentarily shocked to see it is the perfect 3d form of a large spider. a toy, is my first thought, meant to be a prank...but in the middle of the road with no houses nearby?

ah yes, it's august in rural california. tarantula migration time

me, an idiot, pulls into the next driveway, turns around, waits for a passing truck, winces because spider be flat now for sure, and goes back up the road mostly out of curiosity but also innately wanting to spare my small, slow, fuzzy neighbor a gruesome death

i look for squashed legs and spattered spider bits, but lo and behold it is still trekking across the road at the breakneck speed of dial-up. again, i am an idiot. i park on the shoulder. i enter the road. i hear a car coming (speed limit is 45mph). i approach my charge, mind racing because now i might be splatted too. i cannot grab it with my hands, i heard they can give you a rash. i realize my mask is still hanging from my front pocket (i never leave it there after work but today i was in a hurry). i don't have time to bend down and scoop it up, but now I'm holding this cloth mask and the seconds are ticking

the oncoming cars can see me clearly in my state parks uniform. they can see the hazard lights on my car. they slow down because I'm focused on something in the road. they watch as i, with all the official grace my uniform evokes, repeatedly SPANK the tarantula with my mask like an indigent rulebreaker until i have swept it off the road

the tarantula waves its arms and mandibles at me like "what the hell, dickwad? I'm walkin here!" and i march off like "nothing to see here folks" even though i just gave them the most interesting spectacle of their day. even funnier is i don't think they could see the tarantula. they just saw a parks employee hitting the asphalt with a mask and walking away like nothing happened.

honestly the stupidest thing I've ever done. but it felt good

[allthemenofmydreams]

New Tattoo pt3- Maso Mount

Part 1 Part 2

It's been two years since y/n, and I got married. It's been a world of ups and downs, but nothing we couldn't work out. Since we started dating one of the first rules was "never go to bed mad at each other" or travel in the case of my job. I'm not going to say we always follow that rule, clearly, there have been days when I go to team camp angry or when she goes to bed before me, just to not talk. And that's okay. We understood that we wouldn't always have good days and that we need some space. But lately, y/n gets upset quickly and for no reason.

Today, she got mad at me because she texted me; if I could bring her a box of her favorite cupcakes after training. Which, to my bad luck, I forgot, and forgetting them seemed like the worst crime I've ever done. She yelled a couple of things at me when she saw me walk into the house empty-handed. I also lost my mind with her words that we got into the stupidest fight.

She got frustrated and then burst into tears, causing her to lock herself in our room. I felt bad when I saw the tears in her eyes, and I even felt like the worst of husbands. How could I be so foolish to forget such a simple thing? But also, how could she get mad at me for forgetting? Work is getting harder and harder because things in the team are not going as expected. If she was more understanding and instead of yelling, would talk we could have gone to buy the cupcakes and maybe have some dinner. But no! She went for the easy way or maybe the hard way.

I had to apologize to her, even when it wasn't my fault? At all. So I went to buy her cupcakes and headed to our room.

I opened the door, she wasn't there, which confused me because I didn't see her come out, but I heard the toilet flush. So I sat on the edge of the bed and put the box to the side waiting for her to come out.

She opened the door, took a glance, and ignored me heading to the sink to brush her teeth.

"Are you still angry?" I knew it was the worst question you could ask a woman but, I had to measure the mood.

"No," she said, rinsing her mouth, then headed for her drawer.

Yep, she was still angry.

She started opening and closing drawers, looking for something but, I started talking.

"Listen, I'm sorry I forgot..." I stopped abruptly, as she took off her shirt and through the mirror, I saw something black peeking out of the edge of her jeans. On her stomach, on the lower left side, showed something that looked like ink. She didn't have that yesterday, did she?

"What is that?" I asked.

She turned to me confused "What's what?"

"That," I pointed to her hip.

"Oh! This?" she stepped in front of me and pulled her jeans down a little so I could get a better look. It was a ___ (letter).

"What's that __ for?" I asked, confused.

"It's for (boy's name)," she replied calmly and went on about her business.

I remained sitting on the bed, processing her words. "Who the hell is (boy's name)?" I asked sternly.

The calm I had worked up a couple of minutes ago was gone, and jealousy was peeking through. I was willing to start another fight if necessary just to get answers. Wasn't I enough for her? Was she seeing someone while I went out to play?

"You don't even know him," she spoke without seeing me. Her calmness was boiling my blood.

"Who cares that I don't know him. Are you cheating on me?" I asked. She stopped what she was doing. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" I said, pissed off.

"I don't know him either!" she exclaimed, facing me. Her cheeks were red, and her hands were shaking. She was getting angry. "Have you thought it might also mean (girl's name)?"

"Don't try to fool me y/n!"

"I'm not fooling you, Mason!" she put on one of my shirts.

"So, who is that guy?" I was losing it.

"I'm pregnant!" She shouted. Jealousy wouldn't let me think clearly that at first, I didn't catch her words. "I'm fucking pregnant, Mason! It's a fake tattoo I bought because I didn't know how to tell you. I thought maybe making a little joke would be cool, but I didn't expect you to lose your mind, that you wouldn't even catch the names. The names we've been planning for our kids for years."

"You're joking," was all my mind and mouth managed to say.

She pulled an envelope out of one of the drawers, rolled it up, and tossed it to me. I caught it and unwrapped it, and on a quick read, I saw that it was the results from a lab. On one side, it said positive, and on the other, pregnancy. I read the paper again and it was more than clear to me that y/n was pregnant.

"Before you ask me if this is a joke again, see this" she lent me a picture. It was an ultrasound picture with her name on it.

"Come here," I said, hugging her. I had no words to describe what I felt. But I needed her close to me.

We hugged for a couple of minutes as I thought about everything that had happened. Not just in the last few hours but these last few weeks, and now it all made sense. That's why she got pissed off and cried so easily. That was why she always wanted me to bring her something to eat after practice or a game. But now it was more than clear that all the craziness was not the fault of her period and now I would easily understand her or at least I already knew what it was that upset her so much.

"I'm so sorry for yelling at you and treating you the way I did," I didn't know how to start talking so, I started with an apology. "I shouldn't have done that..."

"It's okay. You didn't know it caused me that instability. I also apologize for that bad joke and for getting angry over silly things."

"But now it's clear who's at fault here," I said, placing a hand on her still flat stomach. She smiled and gave me a quick kiss.

"Can you believe we're going to be parents?"

"I still can't believe it, but we'll get through it together."

I knelt and spoke to y/n's belly "little troublemaker, you're not even born yet, and it almost cost us a divorce," I joked. "But don't worry, everything is great now, and mommy and daddy are waiting for you. We are over the moon that we already love you.¨

I kissed her on the stomach and got up. Y/n wiped away her tears. "I'm afraid of not being a good mother."

"I'm not afraid of the world of sleepless nights and diaper changes if I share them with you." I took her left hand and kissed her ring finger where now she had the M tattooed and where she was wearing our wedding bands. I guess now I'll have to work on my next tattoo.

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

Bitter Pill to Swallow

Chapter 8 (Ch.7.....Ch.1)

Thank you as always to @tvserie-s-world for this extra gorgeous screencap💕

"Hey Val, you're not gonna believe this."

Valerie looked up from the rifle she was cleaning, raising an eyebrow at Harry as he plonked himself down beside her.

"What's happened now and who's fault is it?" She sighed, looking up and meeting his worried eyes. The men had been steadily getting themselves into more and more trouble the longer they stayed in Aldbourne. They were itching to get into action and all the waiting around was winding them up.

"Sobel issued Dick with a court martial," he explained, and Valerie's eyes bugged in disbelief, "some bogus charge about missed latrine duty or something. Anyway Dick insisted on trial by court martial so now he's on KP until they can sort it out."

"KP?" Valerie exclaimed, "that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. We could be jumping into Europe God knows when and that idiot's got one of our officers on goddamn KP?" She was furious. It was undoubtedly the stupidest thing she'd ever heard in her life. They were preparing to go to war for christ sake and Sobel was still blundering on with his ridiculous vendetta against Dick.

"I know," Harry agreed, kicking a stone, "We're out here training for the jump of our lives and Sobel is still trying to prove that he's a better officer than Dick."

"Yeah well he damn well ain't, that's for sure," Valerie grumbled, "He's gonna get the whole damn company killed out there, and now he's put our best chance of surviving on goddamn KP."

"Wow Val," Harry smirked, unable to help himself from getting a rise out of her, "When did you become Dick's biggest cheerleader? If you're not careful people might think you actually like him."

"Oh don't be such an idiot Harry," she huffed, rolling her eyes and punching him on the arm. It was true that she'd grown noticeably nicer to Dick in the last few weeks. He'd often walk her home from the bar and the more they talked about everything and anything the more she grew to like him. He sometimes still got on her nerves with his saint-like ways, but on the whole she'd had to accept that he was just a nice guy who meant no harm to anyone.

"Oh dear," he laughed, throwing his head back and grinning at her "have I hit a nerve?"

"When don't you hit a nerve Harry Welsh," she teased, "I actually can't believe this, surely Sink won't allow this charade to go on? We're preparin' for war we can't afford distractions like this."

"No idea Val," Harry sighed, "but Sink isn't stupid. He probably knows there's something up with this and he's figuring out how to get around it."

"I hope you're right," she hummed.

~~~~~

It was well into the evening when Valerie finally bumped into Winters. He was behind the mess hall, clipboard in hand as he checked off supplies.

"I'd say the clipboard suits you, but given the circumstances it really doesn't."

He gave her a small smile and sighed as he looked up from his list. "So you heard then?" He asked, sitting down on a crate and leaning back on his hands, clipboard abandoned.

"Harry told me this mornin'," she replied, plopping down on the crate beside him, "and I gotta say it's the damn stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life. We could be jumpin' into war god knows when and if we're stuck with Sobel without you there well....I can't imagine many of us will survive day one."

He looked up at her, barely suppressed surprise all over his face. "Oh don't look at me like that," she scoffed, bumping his shoulder, "we may have had a rough start, but I've always thought you were a damn fine officer Dick. That's why I got so snippy when you questioned me on the boat."

He smiled at her gratefully, and if it wasn't so dark she could have sworn she saw a blush creep up his cheeks. "Sorry again about that," he started, but she shook her head to let him know there was no more hard feelings. "As for today," he contined, "It's a bogus charge, and I've done nothing wrong so I just have to hope the brass sees it that way. Until then it's just me and this clipboard counting supplies."

"Well even if things do work out for the best, you should keep the clipboard," she teased, "I'm sure the boys would get a kick out of you doing inspections with a clipboard." 

He threw his head back and laughed loudly at that. Valerie couldn't help but laugh with him. He was usually so reserved and quiet, but he had the most infectious laugh and she found herself enjoying the sound of it. They stared at each other for a moment, matching bright smiles on their faces, before Dick coughed and looked away.

"I'm sure they'd find it amusing alright," he chuckled. He glanced sideways at her again and scuffed his boot against the stones. "Thanks for making me laugh," he said after awhile, "believe it or not its been a pretty rough day."

"I can see why," she commiserated, patting him on the shoulder, "but all goin' well Sink'll sort it out."

"Here's hoping anyway."

~~~~

"Where the hell are my sergeants?"

"Probably the same place mine are," Harry quipped, barely even looking up from the paper he was reading. Beside him Nixon was sipping his coffee and peering over his shoulder at the paper.

"And are you not concerned about that fact that every sergeant in the company is gone with the wind?" Valerie asked in disbelief, hands on the table as she looked between the two of them.

"Not unless they're hanging out somewhere with Scarlett O'Hara," snorted Harry, and Nixon almost choked on his coffee, sputtering out a laugh. Valerie rolled her eyes and scoffed, cuffing Harry on the back of the head before walking back outside and wandering around camp.  She was about to give up when she saw them walking out of a barn.

"What the hell are y'all up to?" She asked, stopping them all in their tracks. She narrowed her eyes at the pile of notes in Liptons hand and the cagey looks on their faces. "What are all those papers about?"

Lipton and Talbert shared a look between them which made Valerie even more suspicious. "You've got about five seconds to tell me the truth or so help me God..."

"We're handing in our resignations," huffed Guarnere. The silence was thick, and she stared at them all in complete and utter disbelief. None of them could meet her eyes, particularly the sergeants from her own platoon.

"Avez-vous perdu la tête?" She hissed, glaring daggers at them all as the wave of rage rose within her, "this is mutiny. You could get yourselves shot you fucking imbéciles. What exactly are you hopin' to achieve here? Other than gettin' yourselves killed that is."

"With all due respect Lieutenant," Guarnere replied, "we go to war with Captain Sobel we're as good as dead anyway."

"Oh so that's what this is about," she snapped, "y'all think a mutiny is the best way to get rid of Sobel and get Winters back. Well lemme tell you somethin', Winters is not gonna be too appreciative when he sees all your dumb asses gettin' shot now is he?"

They had the good graces to look contrite, but she could see the determination in their eyes. She knew they were going to go through with it no matter what she said, but that didn't mean she agreed.

"We're not doing it for Lieutenant Winters," Lipton explained, "not entirely anyway. We're doing it for the company. We might get shot for it but it might make Sink think about all the stupid things Sobel's done and he might remove him."

She could understand their reasons, Sobel was undoubtedly a complete and utter liability in the field. It was a noble idea, but as noble as it was she had to try and change his mind about handing the notes in.

"He's not gonna have time to think about Soebl because he's gonna be so furious about y'all staging a mutiny while we're preparin' for goddamn war."

"I'm sorry Lieutenant," sighed Tab, meeting her furious gaze with determination, "but that's a risk we're willing to take."

She sighed in defeat as she met each of their gazes. "I see I ain't gonna change your minds," she stated angrily, "and I ain't happy about it, but I wish you luck. It's been an honour to serve with you."

~~~~

"Hey Val, you're not gonna believe this."

"I'm getting a horrible sense of deja-vu," Valerie groaned as Harry sat across from her, with Dick and Nixon settling beside him. She raised an eyebrow at Nix and Harry's shit-eating grins, glancing at Dick for a clue as to what was going on. But his neutral expression gave nothing away.

"Well are you going to tell me or are we all just gonna sit here like fools?"

"Do you wanna tell her or should I take the honour?" Grinned Harry, turning to Nixon dramatically. Valerie and Dick rolled their eyes, her banging her palm on the table to get their attention.

"Alright, alright," chuckled Nixon, "Sobel is gone. Shipped off to a new jump school."

Valerie's eyes widened and she barked out a laugh, grinning at the three of them in delight. "About damn time he got packed off before combat," she laughed.

"We haven't even told you the best part," said Nixon, he and Harry smirking as they shared a look, "Dick's back in Easy."

Valerie switched her gaze to Dick. He was smiling shyly, embarrassed that they were making such a big deal out of the whole thing, but underneath it she could tell that he was overjoyed to be back in the company. "That's great news," she grinned, genuinely delighted that the whole mess was behind them, "but I hope you kept the clipboard."

Dick snorted and grinned at her, shaking his head in amusement. Valerie smiled back at him, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Taglist:  @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @anderperrysupremacy @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @scientistsinistral

[wyrmguardsecrets]

if twitteroth dies today, it might legit save wow rp more then anything blizz could have done, end this entire thing its absolute bs, it has turned Rp into a popularity contest of everyone trying to outpreform eachother so they can get fame and free art

this is the stupidest thing i've heard in a while lmao

[jiang-cheng-therapy]

*sigh*

I want to be more circumspect about the tenor of posts I reblog on here because I don't want to get caught up in a "jiang cheng!! 😍🥰😘 never wrong! only uwu trauma!" bubble

However, it seems like very few people can have nuanced opinions on him, esp when it comes to negative opinions - I've never seen someone be like "yeah, I just don't really like him, he's not terribly likable" (which I 100% agree with haha). It's usually all, "he's really the worst and just terrible" often with an implicit or explicit side of "you are terrible/stupid/deluded if you do like him and all the rest of us who don't are talking about the *real, canon* character while the one you like is pure fanon" (which side is the more damaging tbh). It's the lack of respect that's the issue.

Having an opinion that he's just the worst because of stuff he's done and how he is I can respect! I might disagree but there's no problem with that whatsoever. We need differing opinions! But you tag it with c*non jiang cheng and ant* jiang cheng and gr*peh*te...that bleeds into the implicitly condescending territory. I've read valuable, good meta from ppl with negative opinions of JC that use these tags - and then I proceed to block them because I know that the more extreme actual haters will interact with that post too and I don't want to see that.

I saw a post recently I partially agreed with: they said (pardon me if I get this wrong I don't want to misquote them but I already blocked them and don't remember their tumblr handle): JC isn't traumatized (disagree: while he does self-victimize and interpet everything as a slight to him when often it's not even about him, he is literally also a victim of trauma...losing his *whole family* and becoming responsible for a whole sect at the ripe age of like y'know around 17); that his responses were not normal trauma responses (disagree with the caveat that's not my area so I can't tell you what "normal" trauma responses are but his responses are still very human - never said they were good! Just human); and that he is self-centered and self-victimizing (agree!).

The issue with this post was it used the canon jiang cheng tag and I'm like whyyyyy...doing that even if just so you know JC fans will not interact or will block creates as much of an echo chamber as the other way around! Bc this person said these things in a totally reasonable way without (IIRC) bashing people who do like him, and U would've liked to just have that moment without it being spoiled by a dumb tag.

Is JC self centered? Yes. Is he responsible for his actions? Yes. Is he traumatized? Big yes. Does his trauma excuse any of his actions that are bad/evil or his personality? No. But do his actions/personality deserve the SAME nuance and contextualization that we give to WWX, LWJ, LXC, JGY, NMJ, etc? You bet your ass they do. You can't contextualize characters and only refuse to do so for the one you don't like.

Do you have to like him? Not all. Please, dislike away! Just don't pretend that not liking him gives you some moral high ground.

That's what I get for clicking on the jiang cheng tag today. I don't want to make lots of posts like this. I don't want to be angry about discourse surrounding a damn fictional character. I want to keep this blog as nuanced and as positive as possible: not by never posting differing opinions or never posting criticism of JC, but by reblogging content that is respectful to both sides (which is hard to do when so many people who are more critical are also disrespectful!)

I'm sure I've erred on the side of disrespecting people who disagree with me, to an extent, and I want to mitigate that. But golly gee does this feel like the stupidest "us vs them" kind of fight.

[smileblackfish]

Writing a diary or journal has always felt stupid to me. What’s the point in writing out your own feelings? After all, you're the one experiencing them. I've had many a diary before, a common gift item for girls, all different sizes and designs. Most had little locks on them, the kind you could pop open with a paperclip, the kind that secrets were stored in, not actually held safe, just given the illusion of safety. Others too, ones with dogs on them, ones bound by fake leather, or my favourite, a cushy one with eight pointed star patterns on it. No matter what the exterior was, they all had one thing in common; the pages lay barren, a wasteland of memories scattered through mostly blank pages. It feels silly, frivolous even to memorialize your thoughts or emotions, but it is quite helpful in understanding the motivations behind them. Of all the things that are pointlessly gendered, journaling is one of the stupidest. Everyone benefits from understanding their internal turmoil, yet journaling is seen as something done by little girls. All of the times I did manage to write in my diary it was never kept up for longer than three days. Every page I’d write needed context, I felt this today because of x/y/z, well now x/y/z needs explaining. That feels silly, why am I explaining something I already know for these pages, which nobody else will ever see. That and the format, it's difficult to document flowing emotions in writing, by the time this line is done there’s something I want to revise or add to the previous lines. It’s much easier to rant in a video format, even if it feels silly if no one is going to see it. Or better yet, digitally, that way the words can be edited and rewritten countless times with less effort than paper and pencil. The benefits of journaling lay in the organization of thoughts and understanding the context of those thoughts well enough to convey them through written words, an act which leaves a perfectly delectable end product, just waiting to be consumed, made real, have its existence confirmed by an outside source. So here is my attempt at self reflection, made in such a way as to immortalize my thoughts, instead of keeping them locked away, in the hopes of bettering myself and anyone who might happen to stumble across my words. Even though there is only the smallest chance anyone will ever see this, it's easier to write for an imaginary audience than none at all. So here I am holding up a mirror by screaming into the void.