#this situation is complicated but i always get myself into these troubles!

[marblesouled]

tbh i still don't know. i do feel i'm losing my mind and life rn, one way or other. and it's really awful in a sense i don't know what or who to believe. i'm so easily influenced and obviously can't think clearly, because i'm out of it. my mind has taken me captive and the schizo there is giving out orders.

i both love and hate my new friend. some things he does and says bug me and i start to wonder if i'm doing the right thing by letting him influence me so strongly. because he really is a strong character whose word is truth. i'm more used to milder souls like my dear crush who take me the way i am and don't try to change me. but maybe i need to change? it's a super complicated situation for me and i'm scared of being broken by it all in the end. should i follow another crazy person? won't that dangerous mixture cause only more madness and chaos? why is madness's allure always so siren-like for me that i follow blindly leaving my past principles behind? i mean, it's fun to whirl with the thunder cloud, but you might get scorched by the lightning.

like yesterday, at first it seemed he was very compassionate towards my situation and told he really felt for me in my hour of trouble. but then the next moment he was telling me to go to work and start waking up with an alarm clock. when i had just told him i was getting insufficient sleep and i have very little energy to do anything at all, let alone think about such a thing as going to work. but he keeps pushing me to do stuff all the time for progress and checks up on me to confirm i've done these things or he gets angry. like last night he told me to train on my exercise bike every day and send him the time. this really irks me. like this constant mind control. i'm not sure i know who i am anymore or maybe i really have been one lazy piece of shit who needs to get better at every aspect of my life that has been ruled by my mental state. maybe i do need to control myself, be a normal person like everyone else. have i been using my depression and anxiety as an excuse? i really don't know anything and my mind is fucked!!

and it feels awful even complaining about it, because i feel he has helped me and we've made so many plans for future activities, like getting tattoos together! but honestly, his intensity and angriness frightens me sometimes. still, it really has been fun to do stuff with a person who is brave and willing to try everything. it's given me so much hope for the future, because i know noone else in my life who is like that. last night really was great! but it breaks my heart to think maybe my so-called social progress could be mere mania instead. then i'd be lost again and left depressed. is it my curse?? the schizoaffective disorder i'm suffering from? and am i really such a stupid hopeless case who could only cope with meds? because atm i still wish to continue tapering.

like i know if i told my sister everything about him, she would tell me immediately not to communicate with him any longer to protect myself. and that is also scary! i really don't know what to do, because everything is so fucked-up already. should i have believed him in the first place or stayed sceptical? i don't know what i believe in anymore and it hurts my poor brain. but i know when i meet up with him, i'm straight under his influence again and he'll continue to ask me for exercise and other proof. from a rational point of view, of course i realise it's a situation with blaring red flags, but then i think from the point of view of my madness and that this 'tough therapist/life coach' role he's taken is good for me, like he says. because we do to cool stuff and he makes me try things i've actually wanted to try, but haven't dared like asking a girl making firewood to let me saw a piece of wood last night. there's so much positivity and energy in him, he easily befriends strangers and knows how to converse with them. i really could learn from that. but... he has himself many times mentioned he's not right in the head and has been engaged in some dangerous behaviour i find a bit challenging to condone. or maybe i should just open my mind more? i freakin' don't know. i get a feeling my crush finds him too intense as well and now i'm sorry i invited him into our circle. will it all become a shit show? who or what should i trust in this? i certainly cannot lean on my mind.

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Wip! (Fantasies in the dark)

I know I've not posted recently and there are a few of you who are still waiting for their ask, I'm sorry it's taking so long! I know I'm probably repeating myself but I don't have time to write anymore considering my degree is extremely demanding and completely absorbs all of my free time. Anyway, have a little snippet of a one-shot that had been sitting for way too long in my drafts! I just need a moment to proofread it and it should be published soon. Have a taste of Arthur not being able to sleep because he caught an intimate glimpse of you... Good Lord, I love tormenting that poor man.

Lately, Arthur had a problem. An incessant, disturbing, haunting problem.

He can’t sleep at night.

This could have been related to the gang’s precarious situation, being hunted down by the Pinkertons and surrounded by enemy gangs, O’Driscolls and Lemoyne raiders everywhere. Or even because of some older wounds, the loss of Eliza and Isaac, reminded almost every day by the complicated family portrait John was painting with Abigail and Jack. Or the hurtful thought of the life he never had with Mary that was always following him since he had seen her again near Valentine. Life doomed by his inherent violence and the mountain of corpses he was responsible for.

Arthur had plenty of reasons not to sleep at night. But this wasn’t because of any of that.

Arthur couldn’t sleep because of you. 

Not that it was your fault. In fact, you didn’t even know about any of that and Lord have mercy, he was praying that you’ll never find out; because he would never be able to look at you in the eyes after this.

A few weeks ago, the gang had settled at Clemen’s Point. A rather pretty spot just near the lake, and not so far from town. But it wasn’t exactly the place that was causing him trouble. It was the unexpected view he was having from his tent. For some unknown, mystical reasons, Ms Grimshaw while deciding the camp’s ajancement had decided to place your tent right next to his. Not so big of a problem at first sight, right?

Except that you’re a night owl combined with the suffocating warmth of the place.

Making you get to bed naked.

Oh, Arthurs knows you do, because every night, every single one, you let a candle lit to read or write or God knows what before sleeping. The light casts your shadow against the tent’s canvas. The shadow of your very much nude body.

[...]

He sits down on his cot. Mumbles to himself orders and curses to try and stay reasonable. Takes off his hat, runs a hand through his hair, sticky with sweat and dirt from his busy day. Scratches his beard and his ears, tells himself he needs to take a swim into that lake. That he’s as dirty on the inside as he’s on the outside. Pulls down his suspenders before stretching his shoulders, a pained groan escaping him. A cigarette joins his lips, a match lights it, and he breathes in slowly. He tries to calm down, focusing as always on this homey feeling it brings him. 

But his brows furrows. His lips tighten. He knows he won’t be able to hold on much longer. He needs to rest properly. Even being the all-mighty Titan he is, he still needs a good night of sleep to keep his body fueled, and you have kept it from him for days.

He lies to himself promising this is only for his health.

That this is the only way for him to stay focused during the day; the only way to rest properly and be at his best again tomorrow.

That this will be the only time he’ll do that.

His only moment of weakness. 

The still-lit cigarette and his good conscience fall to the ground as he lies on his cot, settled on his left side, his right hand already roaming on his lower belly.

His eyes drop on the scene he had fantasized about for what seems like years to him at this point.

Lord have mercy…

[highseas-swede]

Aziraphale and Trauma

[Just a note that I initially wrote this in response to this post: https://www.tumblr.com/theangelyouknew/732357015604756480?source=share&ref=_tumblr which is full of insightful info. I'm reposting my response here with some minor edits so it's easier to find in tags.]

This is something I actually find interesting within the fandom, because there seems to be this weird divide in fandom when it comes to Aziraphale.

See, I love Aziraphale. I think he's an amazing and well nuanced character, but a lot of the time fandom boils him down into this really simple version of himself. This happens both with people who dislike him and claim he's a bad person as well as with those who want to soften him up and make him more palatable. Aziraphale isn't the only one who has trouble with black and white thinking here!

Things like Coffee Theory remove Aziraphale's agency because the thought of Aziraphale doing something to hurt Crowley deliberately is something they can't stomach. If Aziraphale is acting under some kind of major magical influence, it means that it's possible to brush over the fact that he can - and has - hurt Crowley in the past and it certainly hasn't always been accidental.

There's a lot of Psychology I could touch on here, but it's honestly such a complicated topic that I don't really feel I can do it justice attached to a completely different topic.

But one thing I do want to touch on a bit is how Aziraphale asserts control in his own life via his connection with Crowley, and that touches on something equally complicated, which is something that's probably hard to understand.

Abuse victims are often manipulative.

I don't mean this at all as some kind of slight or insult. I've been an abuse victim myself and it's one reason I know it's true.

Fandom talks a lot about Crowley's trauma and he's got loads, to be sure. I think of that meme about "this bad boy can fit a lot of trauma" and it's very true. I've even seen people mention that Aziraphale has a different kind of Trauma than Crowley, which is also true.

What I haven't seen is someone addressing that the type of religious trauma is a form of CPTSD. CPTSD or "Complex PTSD" is a very specific form of PTSD. PTSD is characterized as being the result of a traumatic event - Crowley's fall, for example, is a good example of PTSD and I can go into that at some point. CPTSD is different because it's not a singular event, it's the result of being in a constant high stress situation. A lot of abuse victims - especially those abused by parental figures or significant others - have this form of PTSD.

A good way to see the difference is in comparing how they relate to their trauma. When Crowley thinks he's lost Aziraphale in S1, it sends him into a spiral. But importantly we see that this traumatic event is causing Crowley to go back to another traumatic event in time, triggering his memories of his fall. This emphasizes how much Crowley's fall defines his trauma. We rarely see him experiencing trauma at the hands of Hell, as he's mostly allowed freedom to handle his job on earth the way he wants.

https://cptsdfoundation.org/ defines CPTSD as "the results of ongoing, inescapable, relational trauma. Unlike Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Complex PTSD typically involves being hurt by another person. These hurts are ongoing, repeated, and often involving a betrayal and loss of safety."

In humans, this is caused by having no sense of safety in key moments of development. It strips away sense of self, sense of worth and really any agency. We even see the angels using direct gaslighting tactics on Aziraphale in S2, which I'm surprised doesn't get mentioned more often: When they come to the bookshop looking for Gabriel, they mention Gabriel and then almost immediately when Aziraphale asks "you were looking for Gabriel", Uriel outright says a line that goes something like "Did we say we were looking for Gabriel?", leading Aziraphale to fumble and try to remember if they did, in fact, say that at some point (they did).

So, one big thing to know about CPTSD and this kind of abuse related trauma is that learning to lie and be manipulative is often what people have to do to survive. Children with abusive parents will learn how to be manipulative in order to get what they need or avoid losing things they need.

We see this with Aziraphale, time and time again. He could just ASK Crowley for things he wants. A lot of people point out that he could ask and that Crowley would probably give in to him most of the time anyway. But that's not how it works in an abusive home. Instead, Aziraphale maneuvers Crowley into situations where Crowley is forced to give him what he needs or wants.

His lack of agency, as a result of his CPTSD, is also why he needs to be worked into making decisions that he already knows - or at least suspects - are right. That's why they have their little dance every time Crowley has to talk Aziraphale into something by finding the right way to frame it so it makes sense with Aziraphale's strict rule structure. These rules exist as a defensive mechanism too. Having rules makes it easier to figure out how to avoid being hurt and Aziraphale cannot simply step outside the rules because it's Not Safe. Not even with someone he trusts as much as Crowley.

The entire apology dance scene stands out for a few reasons. Everything Aziraphale does in the entire scene is an act that allows him to take control of the situation. He's already won, so to speak, because Crowley is back and Crowley is going to do what he wants. The apology is unnecessary on every level.

This post talks about how uncomfortable Crowley has to be sharing a space with Gabriel. Gabriel is with the abusive team, whether or not he was directly involved with Crowley's fall. Crowley also harbors a severe distress and mistrust of Gabriel because of Gabriel's attempts to destroy Aziraphale, the most important person to Crowley. But it's worth noting that Aziraphale is uncomfortable too.

Another good indicator of how stressed Aziraphale is with all this is that he doesn't eat ANYTHING when Gabriel is in the shop. The only food he consumes in modern era is when he's in the Bentley which is a "safe" space. Gabriel constantly hounded Aziraphale over eating and despite offering Gabriel hot chocolate, we don't see him partaking himself. He does briefly drink to demonstrate how "drinking tea" works for Muriel, but he doesn't seem to drink from his cup at all after demonstrating.

The bookshop is also Aziraphale's safe space, his ONLY safe space - Crowley still technically has the Bentley, and honestly I feel like Aziraphale wanting to borrow the Bentley is actually partially because he needs to get away from Gabriel and the Bentley is the only place that feels safe for him at the moment. Shax ruins any illusion of safety for him, but Aziraphale is much more enthused for his trip in ep3 and a fair amount of it is because he's not trapped with Gabriel.

A small note here, as a thought occurs to me. Aziraphale asserting that the Bentley is "our car" is probably mostly for himself. He's trying to realign his thinking to make the Bentley an acceptable "safe space" for himself prior to the trip.

There is a very different relationship dynamic when it comes to Gabriel and Aziraphale because Gabriel is the constant source of Aziraphale's trauma. He's Aziraphale's superior, the one he has to report to, the one who passes down his missions and his punishments. When Aziraphale takes Gabriel in, he's just invited his former abuser of over 6000 years into his safe haven. This is a hugely uncomfortable thing for an abuse survivor.

Worst of all, because Jim is, for all intents and purposes, NOT Gabriel, Aziraphale can't bring himself to lash out at his former abuser the way he wants to.

That brings us back to this apology scene.

There are two major things going on here and both of them are bad and hurtful toward Crowley. They're also both intensely unfair. I love Aziraphale but this was definitely a dick move.

Firstly: Aziraphale is using Crowley to reassert a sense of control over the situation because he is spiraling. He can't assert control over his life and his shop, which is one thing that he falls back on heavily, and that leaves him scrambling to find somewhere where he can control his situation. He makes Crowley go through this whole unnecessary apology and dance routine because it makes him feel like he has control over SOMETHING in his life right now.

Secondly: Aziraphale is also enacting his own trauma on Crowley. He's treating Crowley the way Heaven treats him. This is a direct parallel to the way Crowley terrorizes his house plants because he can't do anything to the people who actually caused his trauma. This is, obviously, wildly unfair of Aziraphale to do - and I'm fairly sure there are other small moments where Aziraphale does this in a mild way, I'd have to rewatch again.

These are both behaviors common in CPTSD caused by environments that apply this constant state of stress.

I'm not going to say it's right, or that Aziraphale isn't being a bit of a bastard in this moment - he absolutely is - but this behavior does have some obvious triggers that might be easy to overlook. It's just important to understand that Aziraphale is falling into self-preservation habits that are actively detrimental to his relationship with Crowley. It's not just the manipulation, he's also hiding things and lying to Crowley when he really shouldn't be - both things often necessary in abusive environments - but he's doing it because that's the method that he's created that works with his abusive relationship in Heaven and he's falling back on it because he feels unsafe. The trouble is, this survival tactic does not work with Crowley and actively makes things worse because it shuts down open communication entirely.

[cookiegirlsworld]

IT'S CRAZY HOW THINGS CHANGE- Tom kaulitz Part1

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Pairing: Tom Kaulitz×fem.reader

Summary: The reader finds herself in a complicated situation when she tries to forget about the one and only Tom Kaulitz.

Warnings:mentions of sex, punching,toxicity,friends with benefites,drinking,etc.

Type:friends with benefites

A/n: hi guys this is my first imagine. I just wanted to say that english isn't my first language, but i hope you enjoy.

"Hey, hey, hey you can slow down a bit" I hear my best friend say from beside me as I just drink another shot of tequila. I didn't want to stop, I couldn't, not tonight. This was the only way, forget at least a little bit about the feelings that I had to dig under the rug and ignore for such a long period of time..

"Y/n" said the sweet girl that stood close beside me with a soft voice. Her beautiful eyes looking into mine like she knew everything I was feeling in that moment. I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost forgot she was even there.

Anne is my childhood best friend and the girl that I convinced to accompany me at the party tonight, not because I didn't have any friends beside her, but because she was the one that I trusted the most. She was there for me everytime life got hard and I needed a shoulder to cry on and I made sure to do the same for her. She knows everything about my life, such as my situation with Tom.

Tom Kaulitz, Tom kaulitz, Tom kaulitz.

The name that I wanted so bad to forget seemed to not leave my mind, even with all the alcohol that ran through my system. I met the brunette boy at a nightclub in my city. He was there with his band and some more friends celebrating yet another good concert, when I caught his dark eyes looking at me as I was swinging my body to the dance floor..

He wasn't hard to miss, with his black cornrows that were almost covered with a black bandana, a tall muscular figure clothed in large, but stylish clothes, he made every girls head turn. I knew he was trouble when he walked into the room, but it seems that didn't bother me when he asked me to dance with him, so I accepted.Stupid mistake. After that it didn't take him long to charm me and get me to his hotel room, where he did almost what he wanted with me. The next morning he asked for my number and that how we start meeting up. After several nights together we made an agreement which consist in sex without feelings. We both agreed that neither of us had the time or wanted to deal with a relationship.

Things were good until one night when I caught him kissing a girl at a nearby restaurant. After that I went home and cried myself to sleep, realizing that for me it wasn't just sex. Days went by where I tried to avoid his calls and messages, but he still convinced me to meet up with him and explain what's wrong. That night i promised myself that i will end things there, but it all fell apart when he apologised saying that we never said that sex with other people was off the list, and he was right. Even though i hate to admit, he was right.

After that I just found myself yet again tangled between his bedsheets. It seemed that he was the only one that satisfied my needs, in ways that I couldn't even think about. He was always so spontaneous and had something that made me want him even more. It seemed almost like I was hungry for him, for his touch, for his words, for his strong scent that invaded my nostrils every time he was close to me.

I didn't want to stop, i couldn't, but i had to. All of this game that we played, even if it was exciting, it was also unhealthy and we had to stop. I had to stop, before things got out of hand and one of us got hurt.

That's what brought me here tonight, the desire to get him out of my mind, but i don't think that desire will ever compare with the need to have his lips on mine.

No, no, no, no. I have to do something. I cannot give up, not now.

Maybe the alcohol didn't help me get the bastard off of mind, but maybe something else will. As i made my way to the dance floor making sure to swing my hips as feminine and sexy as could, i started to move my body to the rhythm. After a few minutes of dancing, i made my way back to the bar, glancing around to see of i caught someones eye. And i sure did.

Several men and women were watching me, some with lust in their eyes, some with envy. Adjusting my gaze to the previous one, a small smirk crept on my lips. I did not lose my charm either.

Ordering another shot from the bar and looking around for Anne, i see her talking with a cute blonde guy on the corner. Just as me she wasn't lucky to find love yet, and seeing her laughing like a kid to the jokes the guy said made me smile. She deserves to have a good time and the guy didn't seem to be bad either.

The smile vanished from my face being soon replaced by a worried expression followed by a confused one. What the hell was he doing here?

Dressed in an all black outfit, stood at the front entrance the man that i tried to run from all night. Shaking hands with one member of the security staff and entering the club, giving off his usual arrogant vibe, his eyes started to wander around the venue. Until they seemed to find something interesting enough to look at. Me

As his eyes met mine, his face twisted in confusion, a frown making its way on his face. That didn't last long, because his lips started to twist into a smirk as his strong gaze started to wander down my body, licking his lip piercing at the same time. This situation was way too familiar and the way he was looking at me with such lust making my insides turn. I knew that if i didn't do something now i would soon lose this fight yet again.

Breaking the eye contact with the man in front of me, my eyes started to wander the room until i found a boy that was intensely looking at me. He had blonde hair and he wasn't quite short, but his blue eyes made me understand what he wanted. Bingo

Making my way through the crowd in the direction of the boy i just saw, i glanced back to the spot where Tom sat not even 1 minute ago. It was now empty.

Building all my courage and putting on my flirtest smile i asked. " Hey,wanna dance?".

The boy looked at me surprised, but smirked as soon as he realized what I said. "Yeah, of course," he said, making me smile. The dance floor was full of sweaty bodies and people either kissing or grinding against each other, giving me a little confidence.

Slowly i started to dance against the guy, that i didn't even know the name of. This was perfect, he almost made me forget about him.

Standing in front of me was Tom on one the couches in the VIP areas looking unbothered by the situation that was happening in front of him. Not breaking eye contact with me, he lights himself a cigarette his usual smirk making its way on his face as he blew away the smoke. Soon enough, he gets up and goes somewhere where I can't see him.

" Hey do you wanna get out of here?" said the boy interrupting my thoughts. But before i could answer i felt a kind of liquid on me.

" Hey man, watch out," said the blonde angry until he saw who was in front of him. "Yeah, I'm sorry I get kinda clumsy when I see such a beautiful lady" said Tom almost eating me with his gaze. "Hey man, I know who you are, but tonight the chicks mine, sorry" as soon as he heard that Tom chuckled evilly before punching the guy right in the jaw.

Oh no, this couldn't be happening...

PART 2?

[babyhatesreality]

Hey loves! Can you possibly do a Head cannon with mob stucky and reader? How would they be when the reader is sick?

Hey love! So....answering this a year later....ugh, trust me I'm disgusted with myself. I hope you're still around to read this, and if you are, I thank you for sticking with me while I went through it this past year. I hope you enjoy <3

So with Mafia Stucky and Little Reader, when you're sick, there is a very calculated plan to get you better.

The trouble is, you're terrified of doctors after all those mean doctors held you captive before your Mafia Daddies could rescue you. You still trembled at the sight of a white lab coat, even after all this time.

So at the first sign of a sniffle or a sore throat, they call in their "guy"

You know him as Mr. Bruce, the really nice man in the purple silk shirt who tells you really silly jokes and talks to you sometimes when you're feeling icky

They know him as Dr. Banner, their on call physician who has been threatened within an inch of his life to not tell you that he's a doctor

Banner has no problem with this arrangement. He enjoys working for Steve and Bucky, as his...issues with rage, let's say....have gotten him in trouble in other locations, and Stucky has given him a full time job with incredible benefits where he still can practice medicine and science.

So what if the majority of his work is now stitches and tending to bullet wounds? He's still helping people, right?

And he genuinely loves you. He was one of the ones to help Steve and Bucky "get you out" of your kidnapped situation, and he was the one quietly monitoring your health as you came out of the haze that the drugs had put you in. He spent a lot of time caring for you and came to see you as a baby sister of sorts. He was extremely protective and fond of you.

Bruce has gotten extremely good at being able to just talk to you and diagnose what the problem is, because you trust him enough to be honest with him about how you're feeling

If there's an occasion where he needs a saliva sample, he's designed special lollipops that taste delicious- AND melt quickly. He simply pockets the stick when you're done and you have no idea.

If he needs a blood sample, that's a bit more complicated. That's when the strawberry milk comes out and you take a nice nap. You'll wake up later to find a little itchy spot on your arm, but that's really about it.

Once Bruce has diagnosed you, he'll quietly talk through a game plan with one of your Daddies while the other one is cuddling and cradling you in the other room.

You don't have any big issues with taking medicine- after all, your daddies are giving it to you and they always know what they're doing, so you don't question it.

You hate cough syrup with a fiery passion. More than once you've straight up refused to take it or spat it back out repeatedly, resulting in a spanking after you get better, but since Bruce figured out a way to mask the taste in a candy, it's not nearly as much of a battle as it used to be.

Mostly, you just crave cuddles and attention. And Steve and Bucky are more than happy to give it to you.

Their team knows just how sick you are by how Stucky rearranges their schedules. If you have a cold, they will NOT get them at the same time until you're better. If you have something a little rougher, like a stomach flu, don't expect to see either of them until you're back on your feet. If it's something like pneumonia, it's about to become everyone's only problem for the foreseeable future. They will ALL be on call twenty four seven. God help them if they think any differently.

Steve likes to carry you around everywhere, even if it's just from the bed to the bathroom. He doesn't want you wasting a bit of energy on something as trivial as walking- it should all go towards you getting better.

Half of his pockets are loaded with your medication, and the other half are full of little toys and expensive trinkets and sparkly jewelry to reward you for being good and staying down and taking your medicine.

Bucky anticipates your every need before it even happens. You shiver once, and he's already wrapped a blanket around you. Your face looks a bit flushed, and he's gently pressing a cool washcloth to your forehead, murmuring about what a good girl you are. He's holding up a tissue to your nose before you even realize you have to sneeze.

They will let you have unlimited screen time, watching all your favorite movies and TV shows with you- as long as they've approved them, of course.

You also get to eat pretty much anything you want (unless it's a stomach illness), since you really don't want to eat when you don't feel well. They'll let you have almost anything to ensure that you're still eating enough to get better.

Every morning, they carry you to another new room in the mansion, with clean fresh sheets and new things to do, since you get very bored very quickly, especially after a whole day in bed. Hell, what else are they gonna do with the twenty guest rooms in the house? The cleaning crew then sanitizes the previous room in a whirl, just in case you decide you want to go back in there.

Steve and Bucky cuddle you and constantly tell you what a good girl you are, and how proud they are to be your daddies, and just how much better their lives are now because you're in them.

And honestly? That heals you faster than anything else.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

hi, im an 18 year old pre-transition trans guy and ive grown up in an incredibly repressive fundie household which has caused me to really struggle both socially and with my sexual development. ive been homeschooled nearly my whole life and am currently getting everything set up to enroll for college this fall, this will be my first time living away from my abusive household and im very nervous about it..

anyhow, im in a really really weird situation right now. because of my shelteredness ive always been extremely isolated irl, ive never had a consensual romantic or sexual experience irl and all of my friends are online friends. well, one of my online friends (a cis guy who i knew from an online forum) and i started fooling around a bit, flirting and then eventually very explicit conversations, trading nudes and sexual video calls. we were extremely emotionally close and the relationship was pseudo-romantic but we both agreed we didn't want to do online dating after both of us having a bad experience with it previously.

this whole situation allowed me to experiment sexually more than i ever have, and i really felt more sexually confident than i ever have.

when we met, he told me he was freshly 19. and for the whole relationship i was under that impression, he didn't give me any reason to doubt it. but two days ago he couldn't handle lying anymore and revealed that he was 15. needless to say that was an incredible shock and i dealt with it as responsibly as i think i can.

the reason i'm coming to you about this is because i feel really weird about the whole thing, i dont blame myself for believing him and im not mad at him because i understand what lead him to those choices, but now i feel really awkward about all of the good things i got out of the situation before the reveal.. this was my first time ever really doing "real" sexual stuff with someone (beyond just texting i mean, i had never exchanged nudes or done vidoe calls like that before) everything sexual i encounter now makes me feel awkward because of all of this, its really weird and uncomfortable and i don't know what to do :(

im not sure what im hoping to get out of telling you this but i can't really talk about this to anyone else i feel like, so i guess i just wanted to get it off my chest

(if anyone responds to this accusing me of taking advantage of him or not handling the situation correctly, firstly you have basically no context and secondly you don't know what i did to take care of the situation. let me and my close friends be the ones to judge how i handled it, this is an extremely complicated situation for me to be in and you being judgmental does nothing positive for it.)

hi anon,

oofah doofah, what a sucky situation.

I totally understand feeling grossed out by the reveal; those feelings are real and deserve recognition. it's not nice to be lied to, especially when the truth casts all of your previous experiences in a totally different light - and a much scarier one, since you could very well have been breaking the law by exchanging nudes with a 15 year old, depending on where you live! this person could have gotten you in huge trouble by lying, which makes this whole situation that much worse.

having said that, you don't need to feel good about having had a good time and having gotten some positive experiences out of this dynamic. you were enjoying a relationship that you had every reason to believe was above board and it did great things for your sexual confidence! that's not retroactively untrue just because you were being misled; all of the good things you felt are still real.

think of it this way: when a couple breaks up there's often a urge to feel that they've been wasting their time together, that all of the energy and devotion they brought to their relationship was ultimately a waste because they didn't die together in bed holding hands at the tender age of 107. but that isn't true! no relationship is a waste of time, and even when things don't work out, that doesn't mean the good things didn't count. every time those people made each other laugh, everything they encouraged each other to try, every new thing they experienced together, every time they had sex, every meal they shared - all of these are real and matter and helped shape them for the better, even if they ended up parting ways as romantic partners.

the same is true for you. take your time to sit with your hurt at this loss and betrayal of your trust, but don't throw the good out with the bad. this wasn't ultimately a good relationship for you, but that doesn't mean it brought nothing of value into your life, and you can carry what you learned about yourself forward with you as you seek more appropriate partners :)

[cheynovak]

Sheriff's bargain - Part 3

Beau Arlen x Y/N female reader

Summary:  Y/N, a seasoned con artist, is arrested after returning to Montana, where her past comes back to haunt her in the form of Sheriff Beau Arlen—the man she abandoned five years ago. Facing charges linked to a drug lord, she’s offered a deal to work as an informant. Torn between her criminal life and lingering feelings for Beau, Y/N must decide whether to help him bring down the crime ring or continue running from her past.

Warnings: Little spice nothing explicit

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Like/Share/Comments are welcome

The next morning, I woke up in the guest room, the smell of bacon and coffee drifting in from the kitchen. I lay there for a moment, taking in the surreal situation. Here I was, staying in the house of the man I had once planned to rob—then started to like—only to run away when things got too real. And now, I was back. Working with him to get out of trouble, hiding under his roof from the people who were after me. Oh, and that’s right—I had tried to kiss him last night.

I groaned at the memory, the embarrassment settling in my chest like a weight.

Pushing it aside, I got dressed and headed to the kitchen, bracing myself for what was bound to be an awkward conversation. Beau was standing at the stove, looking casual in a pair of jeans and a worn flannel, his movements easy and unbothered, like last night hadn’t happened.

“Mornin’,” he said, his southern drawl soft and familiar.

My cheeks flushed instantly, and I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Beau, about last night…” I started, already feeling the heat creeping up my neck.

He didn’t even flinch. He just waved his hand dismissively, flipping a pancake onto a plate. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a smirk. “It’s nothin’.”

“Not nothing,” I muttered, feeling like I had to at least address it. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Seriously, Y/N,” he interrupted, turning to face me, his expression calm. “I get it. You’ve been through a lot, and things are... complicated.”

I bit my lip, still feeling the sting of embarrassment. “You’re not mad?”

He chuckled, setting the plate of pancakes on the counter. “Mad? Nah. Just think it’s a bad idea for us to get mixed up in more than we already are.”

He was right, of course. And the last thing I needed was to complicate things further. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something when I looked at him—something I couldn’t quite shake, even now.

“Breakfast?” he offered, holding out a plate, his usual charm back in full force.

I took the plate, managing a small smile. “Thanks.”

As I sat down at the table, I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. Casual, calm, like he always seemed to be, but there was something in his eyes that made me wonder if he was as unaffected as he pretended to be. Something unspoken, lingering in the air between us.

But for now, we both let it go. There were bigger things to worry about.

As we ate breakfast, Beau leaned back in his chair, the easygoing air from earlier shifting into something more serious. “So, we’ve been working on finding a safe house for you,” he started, his tone more professional now. “But it’s proving a little harder than expected. We’re short on places that aren’t already under surveillance. Looks like you’ll need to stay here a few more nights.”

I nodded, my fork pausing mid-air as I processed what he was saying. I didn’t mind staying a bit longer, though it felt strange—being here with him after everything that had happened. Still, this was better than being out there, a target for whoever was after me. But then Beau added something that made me pause.

“At least until Emily comes home.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and I could sense a shift. “Emily?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“My daughter,” he clarified, running a hand through his hair. “She’s been staying with her mom for a while, but she’s due back in a few days. I don’t want her involved in... our job."

His words caught me off guard. Our job. Like I was his colleague now, part of the team. Not the woman he had once been ready to arrest or the person he used to date under false pretenses. Something about the way he said it made me feel more grounded, more like I belonged here—at least for now.

I raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m part of the department now.”

Beau smirked, though his eyes remained serious. “Well, for the time being, you kind of are. Like it or not, we’re in this together. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire any more than I want my daughter anywhere near this.”

I set my fork down, understanding the weight of what he was saying. Emily—his daughter—was his world, and the last thing I wanted was to cause her any trouble. I didn’t need to be told twice. “I get it. I’ll be out before she gets back,” I assured him, though something inside me tightened at the thought of leaving.

He nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. “Good.”

There was a silence, both of us retreating into our thoughts. For a moment, I wondered what it must be like for him—balancing fatherhood with the job, and now having to babysit a former con artist who had complicated his life in more ways than one.

I glanced at him again, the rugged sheriff who had somehow let me back into his life, despite everything. Maybe he saw me differently now, or maybe this was just a job to him. Either way, it didn’t change the fact that staying here—especially with Emily returning—was temporary.

“I’ll make myself scarce,” I said, trying to keep the mood light, though the thought of leaving had me feeling more unsettled than I cared to admit. “Just tell me where the coffee is, and I’ll stay out of your hair.”

Beau laughed softly, shaking his head. “It’s gonna be hard to keep you out of trouble, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” I admitted with a smirk, but there was a part of me that hoped he wouldn’t try too hard.

--

Days blurred into one another, and the more time I spent inside, the more restless I became. I found myself cooking and cleaning just to pass the hours, keeping my mind off the looming danger that seemed to be waiting for me outside. Beau would come home after his shifts, and we’d have dinner, talking like two people who hadn’t been on opposite sides not too long ago.

That night, after another long day, he walked into the kitchen and sat at the table, glancing around at the spotless house and the smell of something baking still lingering in the air. He leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk spreading across his face. “If you keep up the good work, I might just have to marry you,” he said, his southern drawl teasing.

I froze, the plates in my hands slipping and clattering onto the floor with a loud crash. My heart skipped a beat, completely caught off guard by his joke. I stood there for a moment, staring down at the broken plates, feeling heat creep up my neck. Embarrassed and flustered, I knelt to pick up the pieces, but Beau was already beside me, helping me clean up the mess.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, not sure if I was apologizing for dropping the plates or for the way my heart was racing from that one, offhanded joke.

“No need to be sorry,” Beau said softly, glancing over at me as he handed me a piece of broken ceramic. His voice had lost the teasing edge, replaced with something quieter, more serious. The moment hung between us, the space between our bodies feeling smaller than it should’ve.

As we cleaned up the last of the broken plates, I looked up and found him closer than I expected. Nose to nose, our faces barely inches apart. My breath hitched, and time seemed to stretch, every second feeling like minutes as we sat there on the floor, just looking at each other.

His eyes softened, and I could feel the pull between us, something unspoken but undeniable. I wondered if he was feeling it too, the weight of everything we’d been through and the confusing mess of emotions that had come with it. My heart thudded in my chest, and I knew this was a moment that could change things—again.

We both stood up, and before I could act on the heat pulsing between us, I turned away quickly, trying to gather myself. But Beau wasn’t letting me off the hook that easily. I could feel him following close behind, his presence like a shadow that I couldn’t shake.

“Why do you do all this, anyway?” he asked, his voice casual but probing. “The cleaning, cooking, all of it?”

I didn’t turn around, focusing on the sink as I answered. “To keep busy, to thank you.”

He chuckled lightly, but there was something in his tone that rubbed me the wrong way. “You sure you’re not just trying to dig up dirt on me while you’re at it? You’ve got a habit of digging into people’s lives, after all.”

His words hit a sore spot. I whipped around, anger rising in my chest. “No, I’m not doing that,” I snapped, glaring at him. But before I could say anything else, I realized how close he was—too close. "I thought you leaving me here alone was the start of trust."

Beau’s large frame towered over me, his body pressing me against the counter, leaving me nowhere to escape. The space between us vanished in an instant, and I was pinned between him and the hard surface of the kitchen counter. His eyes bore into mine, and the air between us grew heavy, thick with the tension that had been building for days, weeks... maybe even years.

I swallowed hard, trying to control my breath, but his closeness sent my pulse racing. He didn’t move, didn’t break eye contact. His face was inches from mine, and I could feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of aftershave and leather. The hard lines of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, it all made my head spin.

“You really think I’d be that low?” I asked, my voice quieter now, but laced with frustration and something else I couldn’t quite name.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, his eyes searching mine. “Would you?”

His question hung in the air, but it wasn’t about the past anymore. It was about now, this moment, the confusing web of emotions that had tangled us up in ways neither of us had planned for.

“I’m not that person anymore,” I whispered, my breath catching as he leaned just a little closer. My back pressed harder against the counter, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to pull away or stay pinned there, trapped by the tension between us.

Beau’s eyes softened, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. My heart pounded in my chest, my thoughts spinning wildly. Then, with a low, almost reluctant sigh, he straightened, stepping back just enough to give me room to breathe.

“Good,” he said quietly, his voice rougher than before. “Because I don’t think I can take any more lies.”

"Ok, no more lies," I reached out instinctively, my hand grabbing his arm, holding him back before he could walk away. "I want you. I want to kiss you. I want to... I want..." I had no idea what came over me. "I want sex." He paused, looking down at my hand resting on his sleeve, and before I could say anything—before I could even think—his lips crashed onto mine.

The kiss was hard and fast, full of all the pent-up tension that had been simmering between us for weeks. My back hit the counter as he pressed into me, lifting me effortlessly onto the surface. I gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting more, feeling more. For a moment, I let myself get lost in the heat of it, my hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt, but just as quickly as it started, he pulled back.

His breath was heavy, his eyes dark with something raw and intense. He stepped back just enough to break the contact, his hand still resting on my thigh, but there was a new hesitance in his voice.

“Before we do this,” he said, his voice low and rough, "Consensual, yes?" "Yes!" I said in a hurry. "And no strings attached...one night, right?"

My heart dropped at his words, the excitement and desire twisting into something hollow. I stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said, trying to ignore the way it stung. I had expected things to get complicated, but not like this. I thought we were moving past the walls, the distrust, but here he was—asking me to keep it simple. Detached.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to nod. “Sure... yeah.” I whispered, even though it felt like a lie.

Beau searched my face for a second, like he was waiting for me to take it back, to change my mind. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Instead, I leaned forward, pulling him back to me, sealing the unspoken deal with another kiss. This time slower, more deliberate, but still filled with that same electric intensity that had been there from the start.

And just like that, I agreed to something I wasn’t sure I could handle.

Our hands clung to each other as if letting go would break the fragile tension between us. Clothes fell in a messy trail on the floor as Beau guided me toward the bedroom. Every step forward made my pulse race faster. When my back hit the bed, I barely had time to breathe before he was hovering over me, his strong frame casting a shadow against the dim light. His eyes locked onto mine, full of intensity and a question—waiting for me to pull back, to stop this before it went too far.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t. Every fiber of my being was drawn to him, needing him in a way that felt raw, desperate. I searched his face, silently telling him I wasn’t going anywhere, that I needed him just as much as he needed me. My hands found their way to his skin, fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, pulling him closer. The tension between us snapped, and the only thing that mattered was the heat of his body against mine, the way our breaths mingled in the quiet of the room.

Beau didn’t hesitate any longer. His lips crashed onto mine, rougher this time, more urgent. He kissed me like he couldn’t get enough, like all the restraint he had been holding onto was finally gone. My body arched beneath him, a surge of heat spreading through me as his hands roamed over my skin, claiming every inch.

The weight of him pressed me into the bed, and I let myself get lost in the moment, in him. All the tension, the unspoken emotions, the complicated mess of our lives—it all melted away, leaving only the raw, physical connection between us. For once, I didn’t think about what came next, or the consequences, or the strings we pretended weren’t there. Right now, it was just us.

And I needed him. Desperately.

--

We fell asleep tangled in the sheets, Beau's warmth pressing into me as the exhaustion from the night overtook us. When the morning sun filtered through the curtains, its golden light spilled across the bed, illuminating his skin. The soft glow accentuated every freckle on his chest and nose, each one a small mark of perfection I suddenly wanted to kiss, to memorize. But I couldn’t. No strings attached—his words from last night echoed in my mind, reminding me of the line I couldn’t cross.

Instead, I pressed a soft kiss to his chest, careful not to wake him, before slipping out of bed. I found his shirt draped over the chair and pulled it on, followed by my panties, trying to ignore the gnawing ache of what had just happened. I walked quietly into the kitchen, hoping to clear my head with some coffee.

I barely made it past the counter when I heard a voice, sharp and surprised. "Who are you?"

I spun around, my mouth falling open. Standing in the doorway was a teenage girl—around fifteen or sixteen, with Beau’s eyes and a mix of confusion and shock written all over her face. My heart skipped a beat as I realized who it was.

Before I could say a word, I heard Beau’s footsteps thundering down the stairs. “Emily! You're home earlier." he called, his voice strained as he entered the kitchen.

Emily looked between us, her gaze narrowing in confusion and something that looked dangerously like hurt. “What is going on?” she asked, her voice rising as she crossed her arms, staring straight at me like I was the intruder,

and maybe I was.

--

Taglist:

@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @kamisobsessed @jensens-bonnie-on-the-side @ferrersbiggestfan @spxideyver @kamisobsessed @deans-queen @yvonneeeee

[skxllz]

𝒫𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓣𝓸 𝓜𝔂 𝓡𝓮𝓭

ken x male! reader

{ song; hey lover, the daughters of eve }

summary; ken discovers y/n's soft side after an argument.

warnings; sad ken, mentions of a panic attack. upset/angered reader, says things he doesn't mean. some angst but fluff at the end!! I think that's all? :'')

side note; I'm still new to writing for ken so I apologize if I haven't fully grasped his personality yet. leave feedback in the comments/reblogs! not proofread.

date started; 11.11.23

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“ y/n! please, talk to me! ” ken insisted for the umpteenth time throughout a span of fifteen minutes.

see, he's been pining after you like a puppy dog since you've woken up. the blonde resides in your house - and even though you've made it clear you're not interested in him that's a lie, he continues to bother you as if the pair of you are dating. from what you've heard, he used to be obsessed with barbie - and yes, you're aware of his situation of being a doll and coming from barbieland and all that complicated shit.

but, what you don't understand, is how he managed to find an interest in you. not only were the two of you complete opposites, but aren't dolls supposed to stick to their counterparts? barbie is his counterpart, isn't she? plus... do dolls even know about different sexualities, or is this one of those situations where labels aren't a thing?

well, no matter what the hell is happening, you just weren't bothered for it. ken was annoying you, actually making you regret taking the blonde in. again, a lie.

you just wished you could think. with him around, it was impossible to. work has been stressing you out, family troubles had arisen- you just didn't want the responsibility of a doll who was now in the real world as a fully grown man. did he even fucking age? probably not.

“ ken! ” you whirled around finally, stopping the male in his tracks from yapping your ear off again and again with the same choice of words. please talk to me, y/n! you were tired of it. “ please, for fucks sake, stop! ”

ken's worried expression turned down. his lips fell into a puppy-fied frown; his usual happy, sparkling blue eyes now reflecting... a broken sense of hope. “ what? ” he spoke quietly, voice cracking.

no, did he mess up..? was this... was this barbie, all over again?

surely not! y/n wasn't like that. he was always quiet; and even when he seemed moody, he was nice to ken! y/n didn't mind his presence, nor his quirky attitude, nor the fact that he could only ask questions and tell him how he was so good at beach!

... right?

“ ken, ” you took a deep inhale through your nose, closing your eyes to try and calm your growing irritation. once the irritating arose, so did the anger. and when you got angry- “ please. just... quit. I need some time to myself. ” your eyes opened back up, to show irises that held nothing but seriousness. “ do you understand? ”

“ but... y/n. ” ken breathed, quickly grabbing the hand that had lifted to make a knowing gesture - only to bring it to his chest with a big smile now lighting up his face! “ I'm here for you! I love you! please, let me he- ”

“ fucking- no! ” you snatched your hand away, only to probe a finger to his broad chest, which was displayed since the man never buttoned his shirts. “ I told you, again and again, that I need space right now. ”

he looked devastated, backing away - but you only moved closing, poking his chest with a rough touch and startling him. “ y/n- ” ken's voice came out in a whimper, but you cut him off again.

“ you're pissing me off. ” you growled, Corning him into the wall. the anger in your blaming eyes shone through, scaring the blonde that was already trembling. he had never experienced such... an emotion. sure, he's gotten mad at ken in the past, but ken's never seen it get this bad! the way y/n was staring him down, brows furrowed to the center between his eyes, teeth gritted- it made men's body react in a way that he didn't want if to.

why was he shaking?

you surely didn't notice, too caught up in the fuel of your raging emotions. “ you've been annoying the fuck out of me, ” you smacked his chest. he jumped. “ constantly down my throat! with, ‘ oh, y/n, what's wrong? please talk to me’ - well guess what?! I don't want to talk! ”

your breathing had become harsher, leaving your nostrils to flare. ken didn't know how to respond; his mouth was dropped ajar, shock and hurt evident in his face. “ I'm tired, ken. ” you rasped, your voice strained. “ of the constant whining, and your questions, and the god damn fact that I can't have any time to myself. you're always around! ”

ken's mouth closed, and he thickly swallowed. what were these things he was feeling? he's felt some... hurt with barbie before, but never this strong. it's like there is a dull throb in his chest, and it hurt more and more with each harsh word y/n said. ken didn't like it, mot one bit.

and now.. water was sliding down his cheeks? these are what barbie referred to as tears, right?

why were tears coming out of his eyes?

that's when he noticed he wasn't listening any longer, either. your shouting filtered out, blending in with the background noise of the whirring fan and television lowly playing. why couldn't he hear?

why was his... breathing picking up?

and- his stomach. It hurt. like knots, or something, was in his abdomen. it made him grab at his torso, forearms pressing tightly.

that's when you slowly calmed down, your breathing becoming regulated. you had turned away from him in the time you were yelling - not because you couldn't stan's to look at his pretty face, but because... that expression he wore.. it made you feel bad.

why'd he look like such a kicked animal? you hated it - the fact that he had you wrapped around his stupid finger. the fact that you knew, deep down, you had fallen for ken just as he had you.

that's exactly why you didn't want to be near him. It hurt, to know you were gaining feelings for another person. after your ex, you didn't want another relationship - not so soon, or... at all. the pain just wasn't worth it.

but, ken? he was an absolute babydoll. his blue eyes lighting up everytime he spoke about the beach, and the other ken's he got along with, and everything he's learned in the real world - including things about horses! he loves horses...

your brows curved down and you swallowed the ball that was arising in your throat. you couldn't... you had to apologize to him. you didn't mean anything you said.

and, as you slowly turn around, you realized that the sound of a sob caught your attention. your ears perked and you straightened, facing the bolonde.

ken had slid down against the wall, now on the floor, face in his hands as he cried. he kept furiously wiping at his eyes, trying to stop the tears - but as you could see, they wouldn't.

a frown immediately overtook your face, as did the look of regret and guilt.

“ ken... ” you mumbled, feeling horrible. what had you done?

you glanced away, sighing to yourself. then, cursing under your breath, you decided to finally out away your pride - you needed to help him. comfort him. and so, you closed the small distance between you two and kneeled.

“ ken- ” your voice, for the first time since ken had met you, was as soft as melted butter. in any other situation he'd be quick to look at you- because y/n, sounding as silky smooth as that? It couldn't be. but alas, he did not raise his head.

the sobs continued. his shoulders shook, his body trembled. you had really hurt the man, and it was setting in just how dire the situation was. ken has never experienced such a pain...

“ ken, sweetheart. ” you called once again, this time reaching forward to take ahold of his finger tips. he tried to jerk away, a reasonable reaction, but you wouldn't let him; sliding your fingers forcefully around the front of his own to pull them back from his face.

“ don't look at me! ” he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and whipping his head away. his eyes were raw, red around the outside... his cheeks were tear-stained and his smile lines were biting through, making his frown that much more noticeable.

it was breaking your heart to see him like this.

ever so gently, you moved one hand away from his own to lift it to his face. your fingertips met the corner of his jawline, only to slide under; cascading to cradle the underside of his jaw and lift his head. “ ken. ” your voice was still soft, but held a sternness to it. “ ken, can you look at me? please? ”

ken had stopped sobbing by now, but the tears were still rolling. he was sniffling, hiccuping; trying to stop himself from looking so pathetic. It definitely wasn't manly to cry - and he didn't like that. why couldn't he stop crying?

the ache in his chest, it just hurt so much.

“ baby, ” that caught his attention, as he sniffled again, “ look at me. ”

for a moment, he didn't listen, and you thought perhaps he was being stubborn - which was valid -, but slowly he began to lift his eyes to meet your own.

his bright, baby blues were glossed over; sadness in them. tears kissed his lashes, making them stick together. he looked... pretty. but you still didn't want yo see him cry.

ken deserved to smile, and laugh - and you enjoyed seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle up when he grinned. his orbs always sparkled, radiating the best glow-y energy... but as of right now, they didn't. heartbreak just settled within them.

your frown deepened, thinking over what exactly you had said... It was some pretty fucked up shit. If it were you, you definitely wouldn't have wanted to hear it. the only difference is that you can take such words with a hard stare, not easily letting things like that effect you - but ken? his heart was as sift as a teddy bear. It's no surprise he ended up in a pile on the floor.

“ ken- ” your thumb stroked the side of his jaw. since he was calming down, he took notice - and he happened to like it. “ I'm sorry, for what I said.. ” your voice was no more than a whisper. you didn't want to startle him even more.

and, somehow, he took notice of that. ken was not the brightest, you knew that and so did everyone around him- he was the natural stereotype of a blonde. but, by the way he glanced down at your thumb while you moved it in slow circles, you knew that he knew you were trying.

“ I... ” you sighed, shoulders slumping “ I didn't mean any of it. I'm just frustrated, and overwhelmed. ”

ken was quiet, so you kept speaking. at least... the tears stopped. “ I know it isn't an excuse to yell at you, ” your eyes momentarily flickered down to his pouting lips. he didn't notice, so you quickly looked back to his eyes before he could. “ but I did. and I'm apologizing, because you didn't deserve that. any of it. you're a sweetheart - the sweetest guy I know. ”

“ I am? ” ken's voice finally rang out, coming out raspy and raw from crying. you winced from that, a pang of guilt taking over your chest... nonetheless, you nodded.

“ yes, ” he was looking up at you, eyes big and doe eyed as you spoke. you could feel a big, melty feeling in your chest. It was warm. “ you are. the sweetest, honey. ”

now that he was more focused, ken actually acknowledged the pet names you were using. his lips parted slightly and his brows raised curiously. did he hear you right?

you were no dummy, instantly taking notice. It made you grin, just the tiniest bit. “ I don't actually find you annoying. ” your fingers moved, gently scratching on the other side of his jaw.

ken's face was slowly lighting back up. the attention he was receiving was the kind he's always wanted. his heart, now moving faster like it always did when you were near, felt as if it was doing flips and turns and downright juggling.

shouldn't he be mad, though? you had hurt him.

but... you said you were sorry. you're giving him attention, and calling him sweet names, and even specifying the apology. that should be more than enough, shouldn't it?

but dear god, he wanted more.

you had been speaking the whole time, but of course the poor man zoned out; too busy focusing on your lips, and pretty hair, and gorgeous eyes, and tge way your mouth moved, looking oh so kissable-

“ y/n? ” ken spoke out before he could even comprehend it himself. you paused, looking at him expectantly- and a smile melted onto your lips.

“ yes, dear ken? ” you hummed, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the lining of his jaw. his eyes fluttered at that, nearly making you laugh.

“ can you.. ” he was breathless. “ can I... kiss you? ”

the movement of your thumb paused. your eyes zeroed in on his lips, then flickered back to his baby blues. he noticed, yet said nothing; choosing to let out a hopeful breath.

“ ... hm. ” you hummed, pretending to ponder. teasing was in your element, and often you'd do it to people yoy fancy- never to ken before, but.. he was an exception now, wasn't he? “ you want to kiss me? ”

“ yes. ” the blonde whimpered, eyes dancing across your face in impatience. “ please. ”

“ why should I let you? ” a twitch of a grin raised your lips, the corners if your mouth threatening to break out a full blown smile.

ken frowned at that. immediately, he thought this was more rejection- of course it would be. why would you suddenly want hi-

but you didn't let him think negatively. not anymore.

leaning forward, you pressed a soft, meaningful kiss to ken's lips.

ken was left... speechless. his eyes widened, and his cheeks turned rosey. why did he feel hot? warm? warm and hot? his body was tingly and on fire.

chuckling, you parted your lips from his, amusement shining in your orbs. “ you okay there, cowboy? ”

“ perfect. ” he breathed, staring ahead with sparkles in his eyes. literal sparkles.

you would've thought broke him if it weren't for his eyes flickering back into you, seconds later. his chest fell quickly in a large exhale of excitement. “ can you do that again? ”

you grinned.

“ of course... come here, blondie. ”

[sitp-recs]

Hello! Not sure if you'll respond but I thought I'd ask about it anyway.

Would you happen to know of any fics with a very complex characterization of Draco and Harry with a bit of gut wrenching situations? Preferably older D&H after the war. I'm even open to tragedy, even cheating(?) and just something that is out of the ordinary. I know I'm shit at explaining this but, I'm just like, craving a fic that has adult problems, where one/both of them are at a moment of life where things are complex. Maybe H left D a while ago and married someone else, and then after a few years he sees him again and is just lost in a haze of "what if I hadn’t?" or "what to do with myself now?" because getting back with him isn’t easy? I'm sorry for this weird messy ask but you are the first person who came to my mind who I thought could help me out? Sorry for rambling so much! It's definitely alright if you can't find anything like this of course! Have a great day!

What an interesting ask, anon! I’m a bit picky with gut-wrenching themes but I do love myself a thought-provoking, mature fic. It’s about the implications and complications amirite 🤌🏼 this list is a personal take so I’m not sure it is what you’re looking for, but here are some fics that came to mind when I read your ask. Pls mind the tags before jumping in. I’d be very curious to see what my followers rec too!

Kissed by Pie (M, 12k)

Draco Malfoy was attacked by a rogue Dementor on the night of his Azkaban release. He self-exiled to Muggle London and opened a late-night chocolate shop called Kissed.

Poor Unfortunate Souls by DoubleApple (E, 19k)

Draco is a potioneer. Harry is trying to save his sex-challenged marriage. Everything is a mess, but at least there's an octopus in the lobby.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

Stain of Silence by brummell (E, 28k)

After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house.

He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)

Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.

On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 34k)

The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.

REVOLVEVLOVER by firethesound, zeitgeistic (E, 46k)

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

Nightingale by michi_thekiller (NC-17, 60k)

God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages. -Jacques Deval

Super Rich Kids by trishjames (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (M, 82k)

When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.

Danse Russe by Frayach (E, 140k)

True Love. Soul Mates. They're just words until put to the test. Harry and Draco have a bond that was forged in the hell of the post-war years and pulled them both back from an abyss of nihilism and self-destruction. Nothing can break it, or so they believed. But True Love can demand sacrifices too great to bear and deeds too terrible to justify.

Plus 2 fics I haven’t read but can vouch for the authors as I’m very familiar with their work:

Unhook the Stars by jad (E, 70k)

Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words.

Freedom to be by Quicksilvermaid (E, 170k)

Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect.

[riding-the-sunset-bird]

Hiiiiii I really appreciate the work you do! Your posts of Cracking The Cove™ esp regarding the warm-cold topic were enlightening. I come to you with a question: how does one get the “You always just want to take care of me. Can't you let me do the same for you?” dialogue from Cove? I think it might be from Errands, I've never gotten it myself.

It's from Errands, yes, but there are a few steps involved!

First, the MC has to be sad/mad about things, which can be selected after Cove (and the MC if they joined him) gets honey/jam:

You were just feeling down about how the trip turned out.

Cove's pleased attitude annoyed you.

If the MC instead was still by themselves, then:

You were just feeling down about how the trip turned out.

Your moms' plan was seriously grating on you at this point.

When it comes time for Cove (who has shown up at this point if the MC was alone) and the MC to talk about the situation, any of these options will do:

You felt alright about it all.

This whole mess was so upsetting to you.*

You were furious.*

You didn't care about what your moms had done.

You were struggling to comprehend this.*

The shock was too fresh for you to even know yet how you felt.*

Then they have to not directly express their feelings or be okay, so any of these:

"Okay then."

"Fine..."

"How are they going to explain this?" (avoid this if you picked any of the above options with a *)

"They can be really weird, huh?"

You shrugged.

You exhaled a tired sigh.

After that, so long as the MC is at Fond/Crush with Cove, only one more condition needs to be met: they need to have "put Cove first" at some point in time, which can be any of these:

Have the MC go with Cove in Runaway and tell him that they don't care if they get in trouble.

During the Step 2 intro after Cove vents and the MC realizes how complicated things are getting, choose either '"Yeah, I'm okay." You didn't mean it.' or '"Who, me? I'm more worried about you."' when Cove asks if they're alright.

The MC has to have asked about their adoption story in Family (doesn't matter afterwards whether the MC visited Cove themselves, went outside and saw Cove running up to them, or Cove got in through the window), then said, "You don't have to do this." or "I'm okay..." when Cove tries to comfort them.

If the MC told Cove about the deal during Dinner, then they have to tell him "I'll be on your side no matter what you do about your dad."

All those requirements being met will have Cove say, "You always just want to take care of me. Can't you let me do the same for you?" during Errands.

[drowninginredink]

Okay, I've told myself I'll write a fic about this for a long time, but I don't think it's going to happen, so let's write about it here instead.

Consider: aroace Betrand Baudelaire. Specifically, consider aroace Bertrand Baudelaire along with Violet Snicket.

A Bertrand whose best friend was always Beatrice. She understood him as he was and loved him like no one else. A Bertrand who spent his whole life thinking about how lovely it would be to live with one of his friends, but knew it would never happen because they were all very alloromantic and weren't going to want that with him.

And then one day, Beatrice shows up at his door, crying. He knows what happened between her and Lemony; how she still loved him, but had to end it for enough reasons to fill a 200 page book. He knows that Lemony is now on the lam and has faked his death. So he thinks he knows what's wrong. It's that she is still mourning her relationship with Lemony.

And then Beatrice tells him that she's pregnant. She doesn't know what to do. She wants to keep the baby, but Lemony's situation is not one that would allow him to be a father. That's why she broke up with him. His circumstances are too complicated for anyone to be involved with him, especially an innocent infant. Even if Lemony isn't involved, everyone will know who the child's father is. It's obvious.

So Bertrand proposes a solution: he will marry Beatrice and act as the child's father. Beatrice gladly agrees. She has always loved Bertrand. She has always clung to Bertrand. Lemony has always been her love, but Bertrand has always been her rock, her comfort, her sanity. And after the way everything went down with Lemony, she would be more than happy to never have a romantic relationship again. Bertrand is sweet. He's smart. He is kind and gentle. He'd make a loving father. It was never the future Beatrice pictured for herself, but it isn't hard to say yes.

At first, everyone is still suspicious of the child's paternity. They know how recently Beatrice was together with Lemony, and they know Bertrand was never one to have sex. But within a few years, Beatrice is pregnant again, and there's no sign of Lemony anywhere. Clearly Bertrand is at least willing to have sex for procreation. By the time Sunny is born a decade later, no one questions their marriage.

Their marriage is real and beautiful. They enjoy raising their 3 children. They spend every day in each other's company. It is, in effect, a queerplatonic relationship. Beatrice often wonders what could have been if Lemony's circumstances were different, because how could she not, but she never regrets a thing. She is happy this way. No doubt happier than she ever could have been with a man as troubled as Lemony, even with how much she loved him.

I don't know if Violet and Klaus notice that there's something different about their parents' relationship when they're still alive. To them, this is what marriage has always looked like. Their parents are close and they love each other; that's more than can be said of some of their friends' parents.

I do think that when the books come out and they see Lemony's dedications to Beatrice, some things click into place. Their father loved their mother, but not quite like that.

I'm not sure when Lemony caught on, but I have to imagine he is respectful of it all, even if very saddened. Bertrand was always a good colleague and a good man. If Lemony's downfall was what it took for Bertrand to get the kind of relationship he always wanted, perhaps it was for the best. Bertrand would certainly be a better father to his child than messy, unpredictable Lemony, whose passion had always been his downfall. Lemony would have much preferred to be with Beatrice and raise his own child, but clearly things are better this way.

Anyway. Perhaps one day I'll write the fic. If any of you want to beat me to it, please go ahead. But that's the headcanon I've had for quite a while. I've always liked the takes on the Sugar Bowl Generation where Bertrand is Beatrice's best friend first and foremost, and this is really just an extension of that. But I love this theory so much that I'm still not entirely convinced I didn't steal it from someone else (although I've never seen anyone else say it, so I don't think I did).

[blaisenova]

I got a request, and if it's okay can it be platonic?

If it can, how about classic and Error friendship? Cause Error hates aus, and classics the original.

but of course!!

i fucking love the man child, and, naturally, i adore myself some classic too. funnily enough, this is actually a dynamic i don't often see explored, and it's one i've definitely neglected in my own years of making undertale content. BUT THAT ENDS TODAY!!

i'm not sure if you had anything specific in mind, but i just kind of came up with an idea and ran with it, so hopefully it turned out okay LOL. i'm pretty content with it. i always love putting error in space, as a treat.

story is below the cut, and i'll reblog with the ao3 link once it's posted there, but you, my dear tumblr user, get to see it first <3

thanks so much for the request!!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The multiverse was an infinitely expanding place, much to Error’s chagrin, and that meant that there were some rather peculiar concepts out there. Error had never been one for the unusual, though, so the more bizarre corners of the multiverse served to do nothing but piss him off. Really, there were very few universes that he genuinely appreciated the existence of, and those were Undernovella, Outertale, and Undertale. The first and second were, admittedly, born out of a particular bias – Asgoro was just such a compelling character. And who doesn’t like space? Sue him! – and the third was because Undertale was the only real universe out there; the rest were nothing but mistakes; accidents; copies that didn’t print quite right. So, naturally, when given the opportunity to bother one of the Classic Sanses of the multiverse, Error leapt at the opportunity.

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for him to be met with a Classic in his line of work, especially considering the special care he took with them; all it took was one fool’s mistake to turn an Undertale into something else entirely, after all, and that was the last thing Error wanted. There should only be one Sans per universe, both in and out of the timeline. Any… extras were glitches already – Errors, if you will – so, really, it was a mercy to get rid of them. Spare everyone the trouble of another him.

As often as Error was met with Classic, however, it wasn’t until his last Genocide that he actually struck up what might be called a “friendship” – admittedly, Error had never quite figured out the meaning of the word despite Blue’s attempts to teach him (though, Blue had also admitted that their whole “friendship” was a ploy, back in the day, before there was another error in the universe, so, really, who was to say what he knew) – but, sometimes, it was hard to tell if people really wanted to hang out with him or if he was just holding them captive on accident. Again.

It was especially complicated when Error was Classic’s “ride,” if you will. Classic had completely forbidden Error from spending time in his universe – which was insulting as much as it was understandable – and Error had forbidden the two from spending time in the anti-void – because the last thing he needed was another Blue situation – so the two, often, passed their hours in other universes, particularly Outertale. Not every Sans had the ability to travel from universe to universe, however – and thank the fucking stars for that. There’s no telling what kind of universes would be made if people could just go wherever they pleased – so Error was Classic’s taxi to the rest of the multiverse. It created a bit of an odd power dynamic that Error, admittedly, kind of enjoyed; he could go see Classic whenever he wanted, but Classic would always have to wait for him to show up first. If that’s what friendship was, then maybe it wasn’t so bad, after all.

Either way, Classic was everything that the rest of the multiverse wasn’t in that, unlike everyone else, he was meant to be there.

In all honesty, Error didn’t particularly enjoy the actual personality of his companion – there was something about it that made his bones buzz unpleasantly, like static, and reminded him of a past long gone and just out of memory’s reach – but it was so impossibly rare to meet someone that wasn’t an anomaly that Error found himself enjoying Classic’s company nonetheless.

Which was why – as he normally did when he was too caught up in his own thoughts to realise what he was doing – Error found himself stepping through a glitch in the fabric of the multiverse, met with the pleasant sound of snow crunching beneath his slipper. The slush immediately soaked through his shoes, chilling his toes and making him shiver with glitches. He peered upwards at the blurred cavern ceiling that hung above, dappled with the sparkling cyan gems that he used to pretend were stars; it was easier now, to pretend, when his vision was so awful. Though, even then, nothing compared to the real thing, and what was the use of pretending when, now, he could access the stars with a mere flick of the wrist?

With that same unconsciousness that came with years of habit, Error, after a short walk, easily found himself before the forest’s sentry station, where a nearly identical copy – if you ignored the marks of the anti-void or their lack thereof – snoozed away his shift, as he always did.

“Hey,” he called, voice particularly distorted with his effort to project, and a pleased smile fell over his face as the sound effectively roused his companion.

The skeleton blinked awake with that same bleary slowness that all tale Sanses did, rubbing the sleep from his sockets with a closed-mouth yawn. It took him a moment to register what had woken him as he shook the snow that had fallen onto his skull back to the ground, and his smile widened at the sight of the glitch before him. Admittedly, it was a welcome change in greeting than the usual wariness or screams that he received in the typical universe, but, then again, Classic had always been a special case in every way involving Error.

“Hey,” he returned, in that same languid tone as always. “Long time snow see.”

With a distorted bark of laughter, Error returned, “Yeah. It’s ice to see you again.”

“Good one,” Classic snickered. He stretched, slowly, filling the air with the soft pop of bones, then, as if to refute his efforts, hunched right back over into the same horrible position as before; head leaned on his arms, looking like he was still half asleep which, knowing him, he probably was. “Seriously. It’s been a while. Where’ve you been? Or do I wanna know?”

“Busy,” was all he answered, and the strings that stuck to his cheeks itched at the notion.

Sockets slipping shut in a poorly concealed cringe, Classic hummed. “I guess I don’t.”

“We’re going to see the stars,” Error said, instead of responding. With a flick of his wrist, a door opened to the rest of the multiverse, and the dark vastness of space shone through, spotted with all manner of colourful stars, both big and small; the heat of their presence could be felt through the opening, and the feeling prompted Classic to sit up. 

He peered through the portal with that same uncertain fascination as he always did, eyelights darting over each celestial body with increasing longing. Nevertheless, when he managed to tear his gaze from the beyond and back to what was right in front of him, he fixed Error was a peculiar look with squinted sockets. “That a request?”

Error followed suit in his expression, head cocked to the side. “What?”

“Are you asking me to go?” he elaborated with an almost mocking deliberation. “Or making me?”

With a confused shake of his head, Error glanced back at the expanse of space for a moment before returning his gaze to the other him. His eyelights moved over his face, in the same way Classic’s did to the stars, as if searching for something. “Don’t you want to?”

For reasons Error couldn’t possibly hope to discern, Classic seemed to relax at the question, his expression turning back to that half-lidded smile. Having friends was weird. “I guess I can make some space in my schedule,” he said. “Beats working.”

“You were sleeping,” Error corrected with another confused frown.

“Yeah,” Classic agreed before, with a shit-eating grin that gave Error a better idea of why Papyrus was so annoyed all the time, “on the job.”

Frowning, Error let out a distorted sigh and considered how attached he really was to the multiverse’s veritable “original.” Attached enough, perhaps. It was fortunate that Classic was, overall, quiet, especially when faced with the silence-inspiring view of the stars that he was so seldom met with in his own universe, or, at least, not in ways that he properly remembered. Surrounded by something so vast and beautiful, what was there to say? Words seemed meaningless, small; som

“Are you coming or not?” Error grumbled, jerking his head towards the portal.

Finally standing to his feet – which, hilariously, didn’t grant him much extra height compared to when he’d been sitting – Classic nodded shortly and flashed him yet another grin. “Not in the mood for comet-y, are we?” he huffed. “Yeah, I’m comin’.”

Without gracing the pun with a response – though, admittedly, it had been a good one – Error stepped into the other universe. Immediately, the distinction between the soggy snow beneath his feet and the crumbly softness of the planet’s surface was clear, and, despite the distinct lack of oxygen, it felt easier to breathe. They’d ended up where they always did when they went to Outertale: some place on the other side of the planet, where the sun didn’t touch and, so, neither did the monsters. Without the mark of monsterkind, the planet itself was overwhelmingly grey, feeling rather underwhelming in comparison to the infinite picture of stars, and planets, and space dust that sprawled outwards before them, impossibly more vibrant and colourful once the portal snapped shut behind them and shut out the light of Snowdin. Though, Error supposed, just about anything would feel underwhelming in the face of something like this. Even he felt small beneath the expanse.

“I always forget how big it is,” Classic mumbled from somewhere close behind, and Error couldn't help but jump at the sound.

In a wave of glitches, he glanced back towards his companion. There was something about space – about being faced with what he could never have – that seemed to make Classic vulnerable in a way that Error hated; the way that he stared out into the void that somehow felt kinder than the other voids lacked that guarded nature – that wall – that usually stood so unwaveringly. It was a display of genuineness that Error didn’t quite feel he deserved, though he couldn’t say why.

Tearing his gaze from the other him, Error forced himself to peer at the stars once more, focusing on a particularly vivid patch of space dust. “It’s infinite,” he hummed. “‘Course it’s big.”

“Infinite’s a terrible descriptor,” Classic said with a huff of laughter. He carefully sat himself on the planet’s sheer edge, legs swinging in the open space with that characteristic recklessness that Error couldn’t help but wonder if it, from time to time, could be attributed to a certain call of the void that he, too, experienced. “It’s meaningless,” he continued. “So large that it’s incomprehensible.”

Following Classic’s example, Error perched himself on the edge. It was more of a crouch than a sit, really, leaving plenty of space and the ability to leap up and away should he need to. The first few times he’d done it, Classic had questioned the behaviour, and Error hadn’t really known how to answer. Now, the other skeleton didn’t even bat an eye. It was nice to be understood; or, if not understood, at least tolerated for his peculiarities. Maybe that was enough.

“This is nothing compared to the rest of the multiverse,” he finally answered. “Just an infinity inside of an infinity.”

The words were met with a shiver so subtle that Error might not have picked up on it if Classic weren’t so exactly like him. “Geez,” he said, with a bit of a breathless laugh. “Existential.”

“Existential?” he echoed, browbones furrowing as he peered back at his companion.

“Yeah,” Classic confirmed. “Makes you feel meaningless, knowing how small a part of the multiverse you are. So small you can’t even comprehend just how massive the rest of it is.”

A short huff of laughter fell from Error. “Everyone’s equally a part of infinity.”

“Equally meaningless, maybe,” came the grumble.

Another snort. “Yeah, most of ‘em.” His eyelights turned back towards the multiverse’s pocket infinity. The view was blurry without his glasses, but maybe it was the bigger picture that mattered more than the parts of it. What did it matter if he was missing a few stars? “It’s crazy how unlikely it is that some of these universes should exist, but they’re here, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Error huffed. He ran his hand over the rough ground beneath him, rolling a pebble around with the tip of his finger in an unconscious attempt to dispel the frustrated energy that was building in him at the conversation topic. “Like, Underswap – the one where you and your bro are, like… swapped around – you wanna know how likely that is to exist?”

“I get the feeling you’re going to tell me either way,” Classic mumbled, but Error ignored him.

“It’s a probability of 1 divided by 9,109,043,495. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did.” His fingers habitually moved up towards his sockets, running over the grooves left by his strings and blinking away magic. “Isn’t that ridiculous? It’s like the multiverse is just trying to spite me; to spite itself.”

“That’s pretty incredible, actually.” The words were accompanied by a shuffling sound, and Error peeked towards the other, idly noting the way that he’d pulled his legs up into a cross-legged position.

“Incredibly annoying, maybe,” he grumbled.

For reasons Error didn’t quite understand, his frustration earned a laugh. “If something with such a low probability of existing, nevertheless, exists, then I guess it’s got to have meaning, after all. Maybe we all do, even in unquantifiable, improbable infinity,” Classic snickered. That thoughtful vulnerability was back in his gaze, and Error watched his eyelights trace invisible constellations. “You’ve got a real interesting way of reassuring someone, you know.” 

Frowning, Error cocked his head to the side. “What? Who am I reassuring? Of what?”

[apupp3tw0-strings]

The Trouble with Ads

Date: October 31st, 2131

After searching and calling out for quite a bit, rolling around Castle Town on my skates, I failed to notice when I wandered into Addison Alley/the shopping district until I accidently bumped my way into one of Spamton's old friends, Flash (the yellow one). Pretty much since my first interaction with the Addisons, any time I've found myself running into Flash, he's been constantly asking me about Spamton. Which like, isn't a bad thing. I'm glad at least one of the Addisons is concerned enough to try and keep tabs on the situation but, when it happens every time I run into this guy, it starts to get awkward. That's why I've, um, kind of been avoiding the shopping district and Flash as much as possible. (I'm not exactly proud of it! But like... There's not a lot I can tell Flash. Not to mention anytime I'm with Spamton and he spots Flash or any of the other Addisons, he jumps into my inventory pockets or some other hiding spot! ... Same deal with the Swatchlings too actually. Gyeeeeeeh...)

Of course Flash had heard me calling for Spamton and asked what was up, it's not like I was being all that quiet. (I mean, how would I expect Spam to hear me if I was?)

"He's not missing, is he?" Ooooh boy. I didn't not want to be in this situation. In fact I tried to escape it a bit... But also I couldn't just pretend like everything was alright. They had heard me calling for him!

"Gyeeeeeeeeeeh..." I tried to turn around, maybe it I was lucky I could still skate off the other direction before they asked more questions. "Well, um, m-maybe. He wasn't in his room in the castle when I got off school."

"Tch." Another, pink, addison piped up from a nearby tea stand. "Of course he has a room in the castle." The more I got to know Click, the Pink Addison, the less I liked her. He might've been the one who I promised I'd bring Spamton to talk to all of them eventually, when he was ready, and the one who said they wanted to apologize, but Click is a bit of a jerk! I've seen how she acts sweet to customers and stuff, but anytime Spamton comes up in conversations she's not even part of, she'll always make some rude comment. (I'm kind of ashamed how much Click's behavior reminds me of Taffy...)

After shooting a glare Click's way (thankfully I wasn't the only one who found his behavior rude), Flash turned back to me. "Did he leave a note or any other thing saying where he was going?"

I shook my head. "Jevil said he went out to look for some place to read in peace but other than that, I don't know." I honestly should've just said no and left there. I don't think the Addisons needed to know all the details. ... But then again, they WERE his friends, at one point, and Flash at least seemed genuinely concerned. Not to mention, I'd been searching for at least fifteen minutes to half an hour with no luck and I didn't want to leave Papa waiting in the school parking lot forever.

At that point, the Askers also chimed in with questions, trying to provide some help at narrowing the places Spamton might be down. I didn't exactly want to mention to the Addisons that some of places Spamton tended to hang out before Papa and I brought him in or before I got Remie to make him and Jevil rooms in the Castle were dumpsters and alleyways (I'm not sure if Spamton would've also wanted to hide that from them, or would've gladly told them in an attempt to get them to feel guilty), but when the Asker asked if there were any like, libraries or bookstores nearby, I mentioned the closest to that might be the Cafe.

"But... I don't think Spamton would head there."

"Why not?" Flash asked in response.

"He has an erm... Complicated relationship with Swatch."

"Jeez, has he been able to maintain ANY good relationships?" Click chimed in again, uninvited.

This time I was the one to shoot her a glare. "I mean, I'd hope my friendship with him is a good one."

The ad just took another swig of his tea before making another un-welcome remark. "Sure kid, keep telling yourself that." ... If I wasn't already focused on locating Spamton, I would've punched Click in her stupid pointy nose.

Shortly after that, another Asker commented how'd it'd be a shame if someone here knew where Spamton might've been, before mentioning a can. I took Click bringing up the tin can sticking out of Flash's pocket before the gears finally turned in the yellow ad's head and they remembered it. Click face palmed and shook his head.

So, apparently some time earlier, Flash got a spam call on this literal tin can that they thought was some other addisons from a different division but actually turned out to be Spamton. (... Of course Spamton would spam call people even on a tin can and string phone.) Though it turns out after figuring out it was Flash on the other end, Spamton got cold feet before abruptly hanging up once an Asker pointed out to Flash that it was actually Spam on the other end. (This guy is as oblivious as Blane... Maybe more so.)

After the reveal that Flash had a direct line to Spamton this whole time, we started following the string. I would have preferred Flash not come with, but I guess now I was stuck with him since he had the can phone and was already coming with me. (At least Click was staying at his stand. It would've been even more tense and awkward if she'd tagged a long.) There was maybe like, a minute of awkward silence before Flash tried to break the ice.

"So um... It's Halloween up in the Light World tonight, isn't it?" I wasn't even aware Darkners knew what Halloween was. I mean, I know they don't celebrate it and Jevil sure didn't know about it when CK and I explained it to him and Spamton a couple weeks ago. I guess maybe some of the Cyber World citizens know about it because literally the internet?

"Hmm? Oh um. Yeah." I replied. I still didn't exactly want to talk to Flash. I barely wanted him to even be there. So much awkwardness...

"You going Trick-R-Treating, kid?" I guess it does make sense for an advertising Darkner to know about holidays like Halloween. How else are they expected to advertise stuff around it?

I nodded before responding. "I was actually gonna get ready for it after I picked up Spamton. Thought maybe I could use it as a chance to introduce him to my friends."

"And yet you keep him from his own, huh?" That caught me off guard. Flash had a point, was it selfish of me to want to introduce Spamton to my friends while his own hadn't seen him in years?

"G-gyeh!? I-I'm not doing it on purpose!"

"Hey, hey, relax kid, I was joking!"

"Gyehh... It's just... I don't think he's ready yet." It wasn't a lie. I'm still not sure he's ready. "Any time he sees one of you, he hides. He never likes talking about you all and... If my Papa is right... I think he's scared." ... I'm not sure he'll ever be ready.

"Scared? Why would he be scared? I know he had some serious social anxiety back in the day but, he knows us." Flash paused for just a moment, looking at me in a bit of concern. "We were his friends." ... Was he trying to convince himself of that statement?

"... I don't know. There's probably multiple reasons." I tried to keep walking "... I guess, when I think about if I was in his situation. If I got super popular and my friends sort of left me, even when I really needed them... I'd be scared too." ... I... Ever since meeting Spamton, since learning his story, I've thought about that scenario more than I can really count. Even if it may be incredibly impossible, I'm still scared of it. Of everyone leaving me for something so stupid. Of not getting the help I need when I need it most. ...

It feels less impossible after what happened a couple weeks ago.

Flash paused, perhaps confused, perhaps concerned. I couldn't exactly tell. I was still trying to follow the string. "... Do you actually think your friends would leave you?

"Maybe? I dunno. I don't... Sometimes it feels like I don't fit in with them." Why was I pouring my heart out to this random Darkner I barely knew? Was it just because I wasn't thinking? ... Was it the odd sense of familiarity? Was it just because they were Spamton's former friend?

"Psh. What? You seem to fit in fine with that other Lightner kid." Right. Flash only knew about CK because CK was the only other Lightner to come here asides from Kris. And I mean, Flash wasn't wrong. CK and I catch on like a house on fire. (Sometimes literally with CK's magic.) We've been like that pretty much since we were babies.

"CK's different. He's my cousin and we live in different towns. My main friends... They sorta remind me of you guys?" It is eerie how much the Addisons remind me of my friends. When I first met them, I thought it was just the colors, but since having more small interactions with the ads, no. No it's more than that. There's these subtle little quirks and things that both parties seem to share. Little mannerisms and behaviors that I'm not sure anyone else would really notice. ... It's weird.

"Huh? ... That meant to be a good or a bad thing?" ... Was it meant to be a compliment? Was it an insult? I... I don't know. I feel if anything it might be making me see my own friends in lights I really would prefer I didn't see them in. Lights I don't want to think about because of what they might imply. ... Yet lights that are getting too bright to ignore.

"... I'm not sure." At that point, we reached a point where the thread led into an alleyway before stopping with the other can, laying near the wall across from a dumpster. I turned to Flash. "You remind me of my friend, Blane, though. Good and bad." ... Blane's always been one of my more... interesting, friends. He often goes too fast for me and is constantly getting into trouble, often roping me into it with him, but I still wouldn't trade him for the world. He can be a dunce and a jerk, but I still think he's a genuinely caring person who has my back. ... At least I hope he does. ... I hope they all do.

After that, I headed into the alley, Flash did too, though I had hoped maybe at that point they would leave. ... No. No he wouldn't. Which proved things a little more difficult when I did find Spamton after hearing the lid of the dumpster slam close after calling out for Spam. Upon opening the dumpster, I found Spamton holding his nose in pain (I'm guessing he caught it on the lid when trying to close the dumpster), before I could exclaim his name though, Spamton was quick to try and pull me into the dumpster and cover my mouth.

"[Sound off] KID !!" He hissed while gripping the handkerchief tied around my neck before I tried to wriggle my mouth away from his other hand. (It smelled like garbage, unsurprisingly.)

"W-what? Why-?" I asked before Flash piped in from the background asking if I'd found Spamton. The look Spamton gave me, that pleading, begging look... Yeah it was probably a very bad idea to have brought along one of the Addisons. A very, VERY bad idea. But also... This might be one of the only times I'd be able to get Spamton to confront his past. Even if it was through a bit of force, when else could I get him to talk to them? If he was just afraid, there was no way he's going to just get over that unless forced to face them, right?

... But then again. Was it really my place to make that call?

Either way, if I kept standing with my head in the dumpster, eventually Flash would come to investigate anyways. In a panic I stood up and tried to hide Spamton behind me, one of my hands holding the lid mostly closed. I probably should've said something after that but... Once I locked eyes with Flash again, I froze. The Askers kept pressuring me to just tell Flash the truth but... at that point I think my anxiety was starting to spiral. I couldn't stop sweating as I ummed and "well"ed while trying to avoid eye contact with Flash.

... I was lucky that eventually Flash got the message that Spamton had no interest in seeing them and I was just nervously stalling to try and not hurt their feelings.

"He still doesn't want to see me, does he?"

I gave a sheepish nod, still trying to avoid eye contact.

"Ah, well... As long as he's alright, I guess I'll get going." And with that, Flash left. ... I feel even if I had tried to convince Flash to stay, Spamton still wouldn't have changed his mind.

After a few moments and Flash had long since gone, Spamton finally popped back out of the dumpster.

"IS HE [Going going gone!]"

"Yeah" I sighed before taking Spamton back home, making sure to avoid the shopping district this time.

Can someone tell me when I signed up for this? And more importantly, where I can fricking unsubscribe?

To Be Continued.

[springsaladgaming]

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they’re in love?

hi, anon!

I reblogged those oc question lists so long ago that I was surprised to get more asks for them. Thanks for including the questions with them and saving me some time!

Alex - I think this depends on so many factors! On the one hand, if the crush is on someone they are very close to, it might be less noticeable because Alex tends to act flirty even in purely platonic situations. On the other hand, they may have other tells that an especially observant person might notice. In general, it's more noticeable if they have a crush on someone they don't know well because they will flirt with them and would not otherwise. In general, Alex might be more touchy or go out of their way to spend more time with a person they are in love with, and these are probably better tells than general flirtatious behavior.

Ansel - When Ansel has a crush, it is not obvious assuming he is actively trying to hide it—he has a pretty superb poker face when he wants to. That said, he wouldn't see much reason to hide a crush on someone unless he thought pursuing anything with that person was a bad idea for whatever reason. Ansel is nice to almost everyone, but he'll be especially doting on someone he's in love with, always checking in during free moments to make sure they are comfortable, fed, and generally taken care of.

Teagan - It's not obvious to anyone else because it's probably not obvious to him either—further complicated by being demiromantic. Teagan generally doesn't experience the 'crushing on someone' phase of emotion, at least not like most people. When any such phase happens, it probably just looks like he's being a good friend, because close friendship is kind of a requirement before he can feel anything romantic for someone. It will be obvious once he's in love, though, because he'll want to spend the majority of his free time around the person he's in love with.

Cherry - Highly variable, I think, depending on who she's crushing on, how badly she wants to hide it, and how badly the other person wants to hide it assuming they reciprocate. Cherry can not only read the emotions of others, she can also adopt them to a certain point. So, for example, if she was crushing on a person who was not interested in her romantically whatsoever, it would be pretty easy for her to just mirror whatever emotions that person has when they are around her and hide her crush that way. So, yeah, highly variable. Figuring out how she feels can sometimes get very sticky and messy. If she's in love, though, I think her own emotions would supersede any that she picks up from the other person, so it would be pretty obvious because she'd often be blushing and awe-struck.

Lucia - She's a bit of a hopeless romantic, so it's probably obvious to everyone. It would take a lot of effort for her to hide a crush if she wanted to, but she probably wouldn't want to anyway. When she's in love with someone, she tends to devote herself wholly to their comfort and happiness—to a fault, really. It's definitely gotten her into trouble in her past major relationship where she was clearly more invested than the other person.

Rene - Middle of the road I guess? If he is crushing on someone, he's likely to just ask them out on some dates to test the waters, so it's obvious in the sense that it's not going to stay hidden for long regardless. When he's in love with someone, he's likely to do a lot of acts of service—little things like making them dinner, cleaning up for them, etc. As an ace-spec person myself, I think that it would all be pretty obvious, but I suppose some people might be looking for clues of sexual attraction, and those won't happen with Rene, so I guess it also depends on what a person considers "big tells."

??? - Assuming the person isn't a threat to her or her family, a crush would be pretty obvious because she is used to "taking what she wants," in a sense. She would make that crush known and only stamp it out entirely if it was unwelcome. She can be a very intense person, so her expressions of love can range from as mundane as "I will make dinner for you (or pay to have someone make dinner for you)" to "i would literally blow up a building for you." If she cares about someone, you'll know it.

thanks so much for the ask! 🧡

[donnerpartyofone]

4, 7, 15

Thanks pal!

4. I'm looking forward to a bunch of things I guess, although also everything makes me so nervous that anticipation is never untainted! I'm looking forward to my book coming out, even though it has all sorts of little flaws that I can barely prevent myself from spontaneously defending/confessing. I'm looking forward to a blu-ray commentary I'm gonna record soon (can't announce yet) plus a bunch of writing I got assigned, all really cool things but I know how much work they are and I wonder if I'm going to survive it every time! I'm looking forward to a horror event I have to host in a couple weeks; it's insanity, I'm paying $$$ for travel and lodging to be on a stage for probably ten minutes to just sort of be the face of the event and provide "support", but that's what it means to me apparently. I think that I should try to find some longer term things to look forward to, but that will be a whole project, I've always had a lot of trouble with goal formation. I'm always doing one short-term thing at a time and feeling like I barely got away with it.

7. 2023 was really insane. My mental health was crumbling really badly in tandem with our tiny, ridiculous apartment where we had lived for ten years. There were huge ups and downs with the big TBA project I basically gave my life to, that I may never be able to "A" but hopefully some day someone will tell me if it is officially cancelled so I can at least talk about it a little. I also wrote my book and I got a chance to go to London to record my first blu-ray commentary, which was a huge adventure and it happened amidst a bunch of really complicated dramatic events I don't have the space for; it was like, we moved out of our apartment, and somebody died, and I had to get on a plane to another country immediately, and I still have this feeling like I went through a portal to another dimension and when I landed at home again it was in another universe and that's where I've been ever since. I got to do some major writing projects that kind of felt like, well OK I did THIS, maybe it will be alright if I die now. I got to be on the jury of the local horror film festival and that was really awesome...and I'm starting to realize that this roundup makes it sound like I'm an incredibly ambitious and busy professional person who is fulfilling her dreams, but none of this stuff pays the bills and I am chronically unemployed, and I seem to have a lot of cognitive and intellectual problems, and I'm just terrified that I'm going to have to starve to death eventually. Toward the end of the year I tried to go back into therapy (round 3) and the search itself was really frightening, but when I finally picked someone I had made a really bad choice and the ~3 sessions I had with her fucked up my mind so badly, I wasn't OK for like two months. I still need to figure that out though, there's a lot of stuff wrong with me.

15. Personality description, wow. Maybe it would be fun to do one of those Marvel cards with all my "stats". How do I answer this? My instinct is to list all my pathologies, but then I think I should say what I'm like socially, but then I remember that I'm pretty different from one situation to another. I have incredible anxiety and I'm always tired from a lot of heavy duty masking, but the masking is 1 part survival instinct and 1 part compassion for others I would say. Almost all of my relationships are these intense one-on-one bonds, I don't do well in groups or with people who can't sustain a long conversation about one thing. But even with people I really know and love I have trouble being spontaneous, I have to script all my phone calls just in case I suddenly lose my mind. I think a lot of people perceive me as like really tough and self-possessed and even ambitious, which blows my mind; I've had a number of relationships that fell apart because the person came up with the fantasy that I was this bad bitch and then they were disappointed that I'm actually really vulnerable and nervous and incompetent. I'm not completely sure what that's about, but I think it could be partially a "social cues" problem; like sometimes I don't realize that I'm being inappropriately harsh until it's too late, and other times I'm like daring myself to be more honest and frank because I think that I'm too meek and it's not normal and people don't like that and I should practice having more self-confidence...and then I'm mortified when I find out the hard way that I was being inappropriate. But the one thing I can probably say without reservation is that I have a great sense of humor. It's like my prized possession, an incredible survival tool, and it keeps me entertained even when I have nothing else.

[mareenavee]

The World on Our Shoulders | Chapter 35: I’ll Carry as Much as I Can

Chapter 35: I’ll Carry as Much as I Can

25th of Sun’s Dawn 4E 202

“Do you mean —  Teldryn  Sero?” Nyenna whispered.

“Ah, yeah, that sounds about right. I’d have to rifle through my correspondence in the room below to be sure,” Delphine said, more nonchalant than the woman had any right to be.

Nyenna started looking pale, eyes going distant. Her demeanor was getting more meek by the second. Athis watched as she swayed on her feet, trying to hold it together. He was already pissed off, but his rage swelled like a tidal wave at the mention of that fucking sellsword. As Nyenna said, another ghost. Or he would be in no time at all if he’d anything to say about the situation.

“Absolutely fucking  not,”  Athis growled, marching back over to where Delphine, curse her, and Nyenna stood.

“And what, pray tell, do you think is our other option?” Delphine spat, squaring her shoulders as if to get into a fistfight with him. Wouldn’t that be a treat.

Athis exhaled loudly through his nose. “I will get her there myself. We’ve killed Thalmor before, and we’ll do it again.”

“Absolutely fucking  not,”  Delphine parroted and let out a sarcastic bark of a laugh. “You’re a  liability.  You’ve always  been  a liability — I knew it during that battle with Sahloknir when you turned your back to a  dragon.”  She scowled and prodded him in the sternum. He could have ripped her arm from the socket in that moment, but bit back his temper. Delphine threw her hands up and stalked away from him. “Imagine, trusting you — and then what would we have? A dead Dragonborn, and a world set ablaze.” She huffed and let out a bitter laugh. “As if the world isn’t already on fire.”

“Delphine, Athis is right — I can’t trust Teldryn Sero.”

Nyenna’s voice was firm and as even as she could make it, but heavy with so much sorrow. Athis turned and laced his fingers through hers. She exhaled and let her shoulders drop, tension too much to keep holding on to.

“How do you know that?”

“I hired him when I was in Solstheim. He was the one that saved my life, true — but matters are much more complicated than I’ve been able to properly convey.” She paused and gave Delphine a moment to calm down and circle back to where they were standing, glancing sidelong at her the entire time. “He’s a sellsword and a thief. He had…no interest whatever in my actual safety. He wanted — he wanted more from me than that, and when I refused, he turned on me.” Nyenna hung her head and slid her fingers from Athis’s grasp. “Suffice to say… He can’t be trusted.”

Delphine cursed under her breath. “Brynjolf is part of the Thieves Guild, so yes, you’re right — Sero  would  be a thief. If he’s taken up additional work as a sellsword, that’s his prerogative.” She let out a long, irritated sigh. “You can go with him, and make use of the kind of work he’s really good at, according to my contacts, or you can find all the trouble we’ve been fearing between here and the Thalmor Embassy. I don’t see another option.” She scoffed. “Sorry to say.” -> Read the rest on AO3!