#to be even clearer this girl is 30

[papercutie]

i have a coworker i cant fucking stand closing with cause when it's just us two, she will ALWAYS at some point try to break my comfortable silence by asking if I like the music she has playing. and she never likes my answer. yesterday she asked if im into kpop and didn't like my vague answer that im mostly into girl groups, when she very clearly was implying BTS and NCT etc so she started hounding me on why. later that day she asked if I liked p!atd and got really offended when I said I only liked their stuff pre-breakup and then got really upset with me when I made fun of brendan urie's patheticness because I "don't even know him in real life he could be nice". im not even gonna go over when she asked me if I liked hamilton

[rukkiya]

forget me not

(kaeya x reader)

he promises to take you out to dinner, but he never shows.

“Would you like to place an order now hon?” The waitress asks softly, making you look from your empty wine glass up to her soft eyes.

“Ah, if I can order another glass of wine that would be nice! I’m still waiting,” you look outside the big window next to you, seeing the sky much darker than when you first sat. “I’m sure he’ll arrive soon.” You turn back to her smiling, repeating the same thing for the fourth time for the past two hours trying to convince yourself more than her that he’ll show up. He always does.

“Of course, I’ll be back with the bottle in just a minute.” She nods, turning to get you more of what you requested.

You don’t remember the last time you drank, heck you don’t even drink much to begin with but it’s all you can do to kill time. You don’t want to eat without him and spoil your appetite, he will show up soon.

You know he’s busy, he’s the Captain of the Knights so it’s expected. When he proposes the idea of going out you couldn’t hide your excitement. Anything to do with Kaeya was your favorite.

You arrived at the restaurant the time he told you to be there, at 7pm. The clock reads 9:30 now but it’s ok, it’s understandable. He’s the captain of the Knights after all.

The lights surrounding the small restaurant eliminates the busy nightlife in Mondstadt. You eye the people who are passing by, smiling at the elderly people who walk with their significant others, the parents holding their children’s hands as their laughter fills the air. But your eye catches something from afar.

The familiar head of blue hair among the people walking by. Your stomach erupts with butterflies seeing him finally. Walking down the stairs to the main shopping area in Mondstadt. But as he inches closer you see he isn’t alone. He’s walking with someone, no. He’s holding onto someone who’s leaning on him.

Your eyes squint a bit, trying to see if what you’re seeing is correct. But you see him smiling with the woman next to him mixed in with everything else and your heart goes heavy.

You see his smile much clearer now that they both are closer, he has his arm hooked around hers, almost as if he is holding her upright to keep her from stumbling and she’s giggling at him, eyes wide looking up at him leaning into him as much as she can.

The two walk past the restaurant and down towards Diluc’s tavern, Kaeya didn’t even glance at the restaurant you were currently sitting in waiting for him. Not once, he kept his eyes on the girl the whole time.

You reach for your pocket watch with a heavy hand and flip it open, seeing the time 9:45 pm. Almost three hours, three whole hours and he’s with someone else. He forgot.

You quickly finish the last of your wine and blink. Did he actually forget?

You wave your waitress down when she passes you, making her stop.

“Actually, can I purchase a whole bottle of wine please?” You ask her and she nods, her smile falling a bit at your expression. Your eyes look glossy.

He promised you a night out after so long. You’ve both been so busy with work this sounded so nice but it was too much to ask for apparently. He had more important matters.

Diluc makes his way down the street to his tavern and spots you sitting alone in the restaurant. Glass of wine in hand and solemn look on your face.

His eyebrows furrow. “Why are they out alone right now?” He thinks.

Part of him wants to stop and check in, but part of him knows to not get into people's business. He doesn’t want to sadden you further by making you talk about it. But if he makes another run in a while and still sees you in there, he'll stop by.

Diluc pushes the door to his tavern open, his eyes fall on Kaeya and Amber helping a woman who is belching into a bag, Amber is rubbing her back and Kaeya is holding napkins for her. This makes Dilucs mouth from the line. ”What's going on?” he thinks.

“I got her from here. I’ll take them Barbara just in case.” Amber helps the woman up to her feet and walks to the door, Diluc holds it open for them.

“Thank you, I'll make sure to check in with Albedo and Jean tomorrow.” Kayea waves her off, eye falling on an unamused looking Diluc.

“Your plus one got sick?” Diluc speaks up, making Kaeya’s smile drop.

“Not my plus one, a subordinate.” Kaeya answers flatly, not even laughing at such a dumb joke.

“Why bring one of your knights here?” Diluc asks, taking his coat off, rolling up his sleeves.

“They were exposed to a potion in Albedo’s lab, he suggested bringing them here. He said grape juice might help sober them up, where else would I go to get it when you sell the best.” Kaeya shrugs, making Diluc hum.

“You’re not drinking?” Diluc raises a brow at Kaeya when he realizes there’s no alcohol in front of the captain.

“Nope, I already feel like I’m forgetting something, if I drink I really won’t remember. I’d rather not.” Kaeya sighs, a looking out the window.

“I saw y/n on the way here.” Diluc brings you up, at the sound of your name Kaeya looks at Diluc again his eye brightens. His focus now is on what Diluc has to say.

“My darling? Did you talk to them? What are they doing out this late?” Kaeya smiles, though he’s confused. You’re never out this late.

“They were in the new restaurant down the street, they were drinking.” Diluc clears his throat at the last part.

Kaeya tilts his head. “Alone? What do you mean by drinking?” Kaeya asks

“They had a glass of wine in their hand, they were sitting alone at-

Kaeya tries to think of why you’d be out so late, you don’t have any appointments this late. You didn't tell him you were meeting anyone. His eye catches the calendar behind Diluc and feels his heart drop when he notices the date.

“What time is it?” Kaeya cuts Diluc off.

Diluc pulls out his pocket watch and sighs. “Just hit 10pm” he shows Kaeya and sees the color drain from his face.

“Oh no.” Kaeya stands up in a flash. Before Diluc can question him he’s out the door.

His legs don’t stop. It’s so dark out and you’re alone. How long have you been waiting?

Kaeya sees the restaurant come into view and sprints faster, throwing the door open the instant his hand makes contact with the knob.

The restaurant goes quiet, the few customers and waiters in there stare at the Captain who seems to be out of breath.

He ignores the stares, his eye scanning the vicinity for one person and one person only.

But it's strange, you're not here. He walks further to the back and sees an empty table with a coat that looks familiar.

He sees a waitress clearing empty wine bottles from it, quickly making his way to your coat.

“Excuse me,” Kaeya greets the older waitress and she smiles at him.

“Hell- Captain Kaeya hello! What brings you here?” the waitress smiles.

“I'm looking for someone. Do you know if the person that was sitting here left?” He asks, seeing the waitress’ smile drop a bit.

“Why yes. They were here for a while but they left not too long ago. They had drank a lot of wine and ordered no food. I offered to walk them home since they seemed a bit off balance but they said it was ok. I realized they left their coat a bit too late. I had gone out to tell them but they were already gone.” She explains, feeling sorry for you.

Kaeya feels his chest tighten.

“Thank you. If you don't mind, can I take the coat with me? I'd like to give it to them myself.” Kaeya asks.

“Why of course how sweet of you.” the waitress nods her head, gesturing with her hands for him to take it.

“Thank you.” He quickly thanks the waitress before turning around.

“Wait.” She calls out, making him turn around.

“If I can bother you to check on them right now, I'm worried. If you do stop over there please take this.” she walks past him to the front counter, grabbing a bag.

“I had intended to give this to them since they didn't eat the whole time. They refused, however.” The waitress hands Kaeya the bag of food and he nods.

“Of course, I was planning on stopping by. Thank you for your concern."He thanks her, turning to leave the restaurant. The waitress can see how uneasy Kaeya was from his face, she knows that you were waiting for him all along. When you got up to leave, in your drunken state you told her to tell Kaeya you went home and not to worry.

Kaeya steps out and the cold night air hits him. Did you walk home without your coat? It's freezing. Kayea feels even worse.

His legs walk at such a fast pace, not daring to slow down.

Did you make it home safe? Are you ok? Why did you leave alone?

He starts to run, almost sprint. His mind is racing with the worst.

He turns the corner to your house and stops in his tracks. He sees you. However, you’re not inside the house. You're sitting on the porch leaning on the wall. It's freezing.

His legs move fast again. He drops to his knees when he makes it to you. Grabbing hold of your arms to wake you.

You're freezing to the touch.

“Darling? Hey.” he shakes you a bit and you stir from your sleep, blinking your eyes.

“-ts so cold.” you whisper.

In seconds you feel a coat draping over your shoulders, then a soft fabric around your neck.

Your vision clears and your eyes make out who's in front of you.

Your eyes immediately begin to burn.

“Hey hey, love I’m so sorry please don't cry. I promise I didn’t mean to forget my love, things just happened and it slipped my mind.” He pulls you in when he sees your eyes glossy. His own eyes start to burn.

“Archons, why are you sleeping outside? Do you understand how dangerous that is?” He questions, pulling back a bit seeing you now refusing to look at him.

“I-it was so embarrassing. I sat there while so many people walked in and out. I saw you with someone else and it looked like you were having fun. I was a-alone for hours. I left the restaurant and I left my k-key in the coat of my jacket.” You feel your lip tremble a bit, you’re trying your absolute hardest to not cry but he’s standing right in front of you looking so guilty it hurts.

“That person you saw with me was a subordinate, I wasn’t doing anything else with them while I was out. I was ordered to take them to the tavern to get grape juice to get rid of the effects from a potion they had gotten exposed to. Love, please.” He explains, tone serious as his hands run up and down your shoulders, making you feel warm again.

“It wasn’t my intention.” His whispers, hand coming up under your chin making you look at him.

“Never ever walk home alone again. Not in this state.” He pleads, face full of concern, his eye scanning you making your own eyes burn more.

You notice his white scarf is gone then look down, realizing that’s what he put around you when he found you here.

“I just wanted to s-spend time with you.” You hiccup tears now freely falling down.

He leans in, kissing your cheek, then your other one, up to your forehead, your nose, your chin and stops in front of your lips. You feel his warm breath fan over you and you relax at his simple touch.

“My love, please don’t cry.” His eyes close and he takes a deep breath. He was so worried but you're in front of him, you’re safe with him.

“You have me, I’ll spend as much time as you want until my time is due I promise.” He leans back abit, opening his eye taking you in.

You look tired, you drank and you never do. He put you in this state and it pains him.

“You promise? You promise me i-I’m not thinking the worst, that you still want me and you’ll stay with me?” You ask.

Kaeya doesn’t respond, he leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. Hands holding you softly as he gives you another one, and another and another until you're out of breath.

“I swear to the archons above that I want nothing more than to call you mine alway and forever if you’ll allow me.” He pulls back, thumbs wiping any remaining tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

And they do, more spill out. Having your doubts and feeling insecure gets to you often but Kaeya is so patient, so understanding. Him assuring you, being here right now, apologizing proves he meant no wrong. And you believe him, you trust him. You know he wouldn’t do that now, him being here proves so.

“Darling, let’s get you inside, it's freezing.” He stands, holding his hand out to help you to your feet. Placing his hand on the small of your back when you wobble.

“I’ll explain everything better, in full detail of what happened today once you're inside, once you eat, I promise love.” He assures you still holding onto you, not wanting to let go just yet. You nod, holding his hand abit tighter as he unlocks the door to your shared house, ushering you to walk in first. Seeing him this worried, him running here when he realized he forgot. He found you and immediately checked on you. You have doubts often, but seeing him right here cleared any doubts about today. You will listen to what he has to say and believe him because he’s here that’s all that matters right now. Kaeya is here, he’s yours and you won’t doubt him. Not when he looks at you with such loving eyes and holds you so gently, not when he cares so much. He’s here and that’s all that matters now, but most importantly Kaeya didn’t forget.

_________________

author’s note: hiiii lovelies!!! :D it’s been ages since I’ve posted UGH IVE MISSED WRITING SM! :( I’m sorry for the small hiatus. I wasn’t ok but it’s better now, I notice when I feel the most hurt or pain I write the most it helps me convey what I feel and I love writing, you all giving feedback and enjoying them makes me love writing too! I hope you enjoy, I hope you’re taking care and all in good health MWAHHHH IVE MISSES YOU ALL SO MUCH!^~^<33! (ALSO THIS ISNT EDITED so sorry for any errors!)

[lenetaylor]

John Lennon's collage "for" Paul

I was very curious about the collage image going around tumblr (e.g., here, here, and here) that was identified as being made "for Paul" and titled "I Only Have Eyes for You", and done by John Lennon "at art school". Here it is; I scanned this from Julian Lennon's book Beatles Memorabilia: The Julian Lennon Collection (by Brian Southall and Julian Lennon, 2010)

You can see that Paul has written at the bottom "J.L. Collage - To Julian - love Paul x".

The book caption reads

A distinct and original collage of faces and bodies dedicated to Julian from Paul. It was created by John and given to Paul.

But the first time this previously unseen collage surfaced was in 2000. It was included in a show held by artist Peter Blake at the Tate Liverpool, called About Collage.

An article in The Independent at the time says

A John Lennon collage never seen in public is to feature in an exhibition that opens 30 years ago to the day the Beatles split... Lennon's collage, done at art school in the 1950s, comprises faces and figures cut from magazines, and features a number of eyes and lips pasted on images of girls. Blake said: "The style tied in with my Sgt Pepper's album cover, which was simply a more organised version, with bigger heads." Natalie Rudd, who helped curate the exhibition, said: "No one really knows much about Lennon's collage. … It has no title and is rather dark, with a lot of black and red and we can only guess at what he was trying to say."

In this 2009 Guardian article, Blake says,

By then I knew that Paul McCartney owned a collage that John Lennon had done, so I borrowed that. Paul also made a sound collage of Liverpool, and he made an artwork too.

Another quote from Eye Magazine in 2000:

He hopes to borrow an unseen art school collage by John Lennon, owned by Paul McCartney.

There was a book produced to accompany the show, called Peter Blake: About Collage (2000). The collage is reproduced in the book:

The credit reads "John Lennon 1940-1980, Untitled, late 1950s, Paper collage, 970 x 675mm, Private Collection". It does not have the handwritten note by Paul at the bottom.

Peter Blake's comments say:

I have followed Paul McCartney's career as an artist, so when About Collage emerged, I suggested that he made a collage, perhaps from sound, which he has pursued. John Lennon made a collage at art school during the late 1950s which is included in the show.

Paul did make a sound collage for the show, and released it as an album called Liverpool Sound Collage; some of it is on YouTube. (There used to be a website for it, long gone now, but you can see bits of it at the Internet Archive). Here's his artwork, titled The World, mentioned by Blake above (the central image is a back and white photo of Jerry Lewis):

So, to summarize:

The collage does NOT have an official title. I don't know where the "I Only Have Eyes for You" title came from

It's not clear that the collage was made for Paul specifically, only that it was given to Paul, date unknown

It's not clear if the collage Paul gave to Julian is the original or a copy

It seems unlikely that it was made at art school, as some of the images are of women in classically mid-1960s clothes and hairstyles. The only source for the date of composition seems to be Paul

It's not stated who gave the collage to Paul - it might have been John, but it could easily have been Julia or Yoko (or even Cyn?)

Paul's artwork was NOT made for John

PS. I looked through the book Paul McCartney: Paintings but the collage isn't mentioned.

PPS. I tried doing some image searches on the clearer photos of women in the collage, but got no results. Perhaps someone else will have better luck.

[trashogram]

oh trashogram, thank you for blessing us with the monsterfucking w/ lucifer post

Do you think you could do Ritual or face sitting (extra points for both) i wanna summon the big boss just to use his horns like handlebars sooo bad

Kinktober Day Twenty-One — Facesitting

Warnings: F!Reader, Oral Sex (F receiving), Nonconsensual Substance Abuse

You were so doped up on what they’d given you that when you were led to the center of town, bare naked and leashed like a mongrel, you followed dutifully.

There was a small gathering of cloaked cult members gathered around. They all watched as you were manipulated into the position they wanted, laid down on the cold cobblestone where a pentagram had been painted. You stared up at the cloudy gray sky as voices rose and harmonized all around you.

It was all very standard of what you’d expect had someone asked you to imagine a devil-worshipping cult.

You’d been brought here against your will, forced to imbibe something pink and sour until you choked, and were stripped of your clothes and dignity without a hint of compassion or reluctance from those around you. Not even from Steph, the girl you’d thought was your friend in all this.

And yet, the thing that pissed you off the most was how fucking horny you were.

It was like your brain had been overtaken by some sex-crazed parasite. Your pussy was buzzing as if a hornets nest had made its home there, tingling until you were numb but still able to feel sticky slick between your thighs. It was probably pooling onto the walkway below, attracting ants.

Please Satan, let whatever these freaks were summoning kill you before you had to deal with ants.

A faint glow appeared in the corner of your eye, but turning your head left you sluggish. The pentagram was emanating pinkish-white light, and you could feel stripes of warmth sear into your bare back. It was something — but not a warm body or a hard cock to fill you up like you very, very, very much needed.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” The exclamation interrupted your train of thought, as well as the chanting of the cult. “I told you people to stop calling me!”

Whispers grew in the spaces between your breaths, some barely low enough to qualify as such as a ripple of excitement ran through the group. You could hear someone rushing over the stone path, stopping at your side and leaning into your space. It took a little while for you to actually focus on who it was however, until the touch of their gloved hand on your cheek drew a moan from you.

“My Lord.” A cult member said. “You grace us with your presence and your divinity! We have an offering for you.”

“What did you do to this poor girl?” That voice was so much clearer now, melodious and male. “Where are her clothes? It’s 30 fucking degrees out here!”

Blindly you reached for it, in the mirage of white and silver-gold hovering at your side. The gloved hand took yours, holding you with an urgency that made you writhe on the ground and bruise your spine.

“She is for you.”

“A sacrifice in your honor.”

“Her mind and body have been corrected. She’ll fulfill whatever whims you may have for her.”

“Does she not please you?”

“Please grace us once more!”

The cacophony from the crowd grated on your nerves as just another thing that was not solving your current predicament. You blinked multiple times until the shapes around you were no longer blended together.

Blond and white refined into a more cohesive shape. A man was kneeling beside you, concern plain as day on his peculiarly nose-less face.

There were other details that were amiss — including his skin that looked so white you wondered if he ever left the house when it was moderately sunny — but you put them aside.

“Hello.” You greeted him.

The man’s turned owlish as he registered the fact that you were talking coherently, even if your words sounded slurred to your own ears.

“Hey,” His tone was gentle and reassuring, and you felt his thumb caressing your hands somewhere out of sight.

Deceptively sweet or not, you felt that telltale swoop of heat in your lower belly at the comfort.

“You’re probably not in the business of granting favors to your food.” Your tongue wagged loose. “But would it be possible for you to eat me quickly?”

He blanched, suddenly stiff in your grip as horror twisted his weird but still beautiful face. “Is that what they told you was going to happen?”

“Well no. No one told me anything.” You replied. “I just kinda got dragged into this. My friend Stephanie actually set this up behind my back. I had no idea she was in a cult.”

The look of horror didn’t dissipate, and you blamed your lizard brain for wanting to kiss his despair away.

“I, oh fuck okay — ” His shoulders set as he tried to regain his composure. “I’m not going to eat you. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“And then?” You gripped his striped vest when he moved to, presumably, get you out of there. “Sorry for touching you, but I’d appreciate a play-by-play because I’m — in, uh — ”

The demon’s breath hitched. “You’re in pain?!”

You squinted in thought, briefly. What did you have to lose by admitting the truth?

“I… feel like there’s a slip ‘n slide between my legs.” You blurted for want of anything remotely tactful.

The man stayed unmoving for a beat, then two… you watched his icy white skin change into something sunnier, as if the blood rushing up to his face was liquid sunshine.

Had circumstances been different, you might’ve teased him for how cute that was.

Wow.

You could actually feel the forked end of his tongue brush against your insides.

“Nngh.” You rocked back and forth as unintelligible nonsense dripped down from your mouth.

Your demon whimpered his approval between your folds, slurping you up as you gushed with the added vibration. He was a master at this, but caressed your waist and hips reverently as if you were the one getting him off.

Leaning forward, you wrapped your quivering hands around the thick horns that had protruded from Lucifer’s skull and used them for leverage; rocking faster, grinding down harder. His approval shown in the way he pushed you down onto his eager mouth, and the cracking of his voice, muffled by your swollen sex.

In a daze, you glanced up. Through the fringe of your hair, you could make out a small sea of frightened faces, Stephanie’s front and center as your climax fast approached.

You bit your lower lip until it bled before grinning at her. Ecstasy surged through you, crackling up and along your bones as if you were made of galvanized iron struck by lightning, as Lucifer mouthed at your clit, rubbing the blunt surface of his fangs on the abused little bundle of nerves.

[l0ves1ckf0ol]

hiii! could u write a fic where reader and xavier are best friends and one day she notices those scratches on his neck so decides to ask him about it, but he snaps at her and they start fighting, and he says stuff he doesnt mean like he tells her that she's annoying cus she never leaves him alone blahlbah she feels bad then she leaves and after a few days they finally talk again and he apologizes and they kiss 😝

TALK | xavier thorpe x gn!reader

"y/n, please let's talk."

note: ill do you one better anon, theyre in a relationship now.

ever since wednesday addams made an appearance to the school, xavier acted strange. you for sure noticed that he has been hanging out more at the shed rather than with you, was it because of her? you were never the type to be jealous but ever since that girl enrolled this semester you couldn't shake off the feeling of how she unconsciously has a choke hold on your boyfriend.

it's been a couple days since you've visited the shed, there he was working away on a piece of art, hair tied up in a bun, eyebrows knitted together in a frown. he usually enjoys art, this was the first time you've seen him troubled. there was a unique pattern in the shed, supposedly. it appears that he has painted, sketched and created the same creature in different angles. you were beginning to think there's more to the story than wednesday herself. xavier wasn't the type to communicate unless asked to, so you did.

"what are you doing here?" his frown deepened, you hum, folding your arms. "you tell me, mr. thorpe. you haven't answered my calls, texted or even waited for me at the quad so i can walk you here." you told him, the tension rising as he puts his brush down. once he fully turns toward you, the cheep light bulb of the shed illuminates 3 small scars on his neck. you frowned, taking a step forward as you grab his chin to face another way to make the scar more exposed and visible to you. your hand falls to the side, "care to explain?" you ask him, raising an eyebrow. "look y/n, it's no big deal-"

you didn't listen to him at this point, no big deal? he wasn't even spending so much time with you, he was always chasing that interesting new student and now when you try and make things a little more clearer you find scratches on his neck. what part of a no big deal was that.

"xavier. you have been following that pigtailed magnet for trouble, i went here to talk to you about it, and see you've painted the same monster in about 13 artworks, and a scar on your fucking neck. please be honest with me and do not say that it's not a big deal. it is when you ignore your partner and run off in your tiny little shed rather than express your feelings towards me lately- hell you didn't even bother to let me walk you here." you ramble, silencing him in a heartbeat. frustration was evident in your face and xavier looks like he won't back down so fast.

"y/n, i already told you it's not serious. i'm fine. really. just-"

you scoff, the shed shivering and the groand grumbling, a sign of your anger. but you decided that there was a better time to destroy his shed, just not now. you took a deep breath and the rumbling stopped, "you wanna play this game xav? i'll beat you fucking to it." you mutter leaving the shed, slamming the wooden gate behind you, the temptation to let the earth swallow him for you was insane.

for the past few days not only you were avoiding him but also ignoring xavier's texts and calls, like what he was doing to you in the past days before. xavier huffs in frustration as he redialed your phone number for about 30 times now, he wanted to make things right, he misses you. he for sure didn't want to break your relationship just because of a stupid monster haunting his dreams. at the 34th time, you answered. he got up from his bed, "y/n? please let's talk." he mutters to the phone, knowing just how to make you surrender.

"where baby?" you answer, xavier would like to thank the heavens for your voice, he was so glad to hear you, with a sigh of relief he told you to meet him at his dorm.

once you arrived at his dorm, you knocked once and he already opens it. "y/n, i'm so so so so sorry about everything. lots of shit has been happening ever since wednesday arrived and i-i dont want that to ruin what we have." he tells you, his tone so desperate you'd think that your relationship was on thin ice and he was coming to rescue it. you wrap your arms around his shoulder and embraced him, inhaling his scent and hearing him breathe. you wouldn't admit it but you missed him too.

you pull away and you both sat down on his bed, he talks about everything. how wednesday shows up everywhere and how she was suspicious that he might be the creature rather, the- hyde. you listened to him, as the way he talks just makes you feel relieved. his eyes were darting every single corner in the room out of anxiety, so you placed a hand on his, rubbing the back of his palm with your thumb. once he finished, you smile at him. "see? it wasn't that hard was it?" you told him, caressing his cheek with your other hand. you lay down on his bed and he falls next to you, head burying into your shoulder and chest, his arms sneaking their way around your waist, "i missed you so much, i love you." xavier mumbled, you sigh in content, placing a peck on his head, "i love you too." you whisper as he cranes his neck backward to take a look at you, then your lips finally meet his, a warmth made its way in your body, feeling the most satisfactory relieg in human history.

[anabdaniels]

So fitting for happily ever after

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader

Summary: You got jealous because of a past situation with his secretary, so Jack makes sure to calm you down aka Jack eats reader on his office desk.

Word counting: 1.9k

Rating: +18

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, reader curses in another language (translations provided at the end).

A/N: First things first I made reader cursing in Portuguese because my Brazilian ass can't find English curse words to sound offensive enough hahaha. Whatever, the idea of writing this came while I was listening to some wild Reddit stories so...

Divider from: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

You could barely feel the ground under your feet as you walked inside the ranch, boiling in pure anger, the 30 minutes in the car on your way home for sure didn’t help the thousands of thoughts going through your brain.

“Jack Daniels.” You called more loudly than you would normally as you entered the bedroom. Jack promptly looked at you in complete confusion as he finished putting his t-shirt on.

“Something wrong, honey?” he asked calmly, despite the crease between his eyebrows.

“Can you please explain to me what kind of fucking business have you been doing at your damn job?” you asked mad, but keeping your tone under control the best you could.

“What’s the problem, sugar? What has made you so upset?” he questioned with one hand resting on the dresser and the other on his hip.

“The problem is that aquela vaca do caralho…” you stopped and took a deep breath, not wanting to lose your composure “Your dear little secretary talked to me at the fucking pharmacy and made sure to let me know that you have been fucking her.” You could feel your stomach twisting only with the idea of it.

“I expected you to know she lied to you.” Jack said calmly, even knowing that the situation was delicate.

“Then can you explain to me how the fuck she knows you have a single freckle on your left inner thigh?” you questioned concerningly calm.

“Honey, the situation ain’t like you’re probably imagining.” Jack answered in a soft tone.

“C’mon, you’ll tell me that she stumped and accidentally fell sat on your dick? Não fode, Daniels.” you rolled your eyes, both hands lying on your hips; Jack had to breathe calmly to not laugh at your bold statement, aware that laughing would only complicate his situation.

“My love, I can assure you that all that happened was a simple one-night stand a couple of years before we met and nothing more.” Jack kept his calm, even though he was already planning the reprimanding and possible dismissal he would give to his secretary the next time he saw her.

“Haven’t I asked you a thousand times if you had something with her because she always acted very pick me around you? And you denied it every time.” You inquired raising your eyebrows and tilting your head slightly, still not amused by his answer.

“I didn’t think would be relevant to tell you this since it happened once and didn’t have any relevance.” Jack said sincerely, almost starting to worry about all that.

“Where?” you asked after a few moments of silence.

“Where?” Jack repeated confused.

“Where did you fucked her?” you questioned once more, making the question the clearer possible.

“At her apartment…” he answered seeming completely clueless of which was your goal with that.

“At least some good news, I haven’t slept on the same bed as that bitch.” You squinted at the very moment Jack chuckled and approached you.

“Now can you calm down a little bit, for god's sake?” he spoke while resting his hands on your upper arms, softly rubbing your skin.

“Oh if I wasn't calm, your nose would have been broken a long time ago.” You rolled your eyes as he kept a goofy smile, holding you by the waist.

“Didn’t know you were that jealous ‘bout me.” Jack made sure to tease you with that smug tone.

“You’re lucky that I’m calmer than most girls back home. Some of them would’ve already put sugar on your car’s tank or sold your limited-edition Stetsons for 20 dollars on eBay.”

“Good thing I don't intend to make any serious mistake.” He joked and laughed when you seemed not happy with it. “Ease your heart, Mrs. Daniels. I have no intention to even look at any woman that ain’t my gorgeous wife.” Jack assured calmly and leaned to kiss the tip of your nose.

“You better. I imagine that even being sterilized, you still like to have both of your testicles.” You stated slightly raising your eyebrows.

“I do.” He confirmed seriously, making both of you laugh.

Despite being the one who cooked almost 100% of the meals, Jack wasn’t the biggest fan of doing the groceries and organizing them in the pantry, and since you would do anything but cook, you assumed those tasks. Once at the supermarket parking lot with your phone and shop list on hand, you realized you had forgotten your wallet at home. Already mumbling all the curse words you knew while starting your car, you remembered that Jack was at Statesman, which, despite being out of the city too, was way closer than the ranch.

Once you arrived at the distillery and got to the floor of Jack’s office, you were happily surprised when you didn’t see his dubious character secretary at the front desk, but the sympathetic lady you used to talk a lot every time you had to wait for Jack to get out of some meeting.

You walked calmly to Jack’s office, knocking on the door and getting in as you heard his voice telling you to do it, stopping in front of his desk and waiting for him to look at you.

“Honeybee.” Jack smiled openly as he saw you and leaned back on his chair, taping one of his thighs. Without hesitation you moved to sit sideways on his lap, letting your arms rest on his shoulders. “What brings my dear wife here today?”

“My shitty memory to be honest.” You admitted, tilting your head slightly “I was on my way to do the groceries and realized I forgot my wallet at the ranch.”

“Oh, I see.” He answered with a soft chuckle, grabbing his wallet and giving you his bank card.

“Just for the record, I was planning to pass on some other places after it, so…” you were ready to start a little justification speech, still not having completely lost the habit of thinking that you should have a complex reason to buy something, but Jack didn’t give you the chance to even start with it.

“It’s okay, sugar, don’t worry your pretty head with this. If my dear wife can’t have a little fun with my card, then what am I working for?” Jack winked at you with a sideway smile and leaned to press a soft kiss on your lips.

“Fine, I’ll remember this.” You chuckled while playing with a lock of his hair “Speaking about work, I haven't seen your dear secretary around.” You mentioned it with a bit of sarcasm.

“She got transferred to the city branch.” Jack explained calmly, resting both hands on your waist.

“I imagine she’s missing her beloved boss.” You said with a slightly annoyed grimace.

“Honey…” he laughed quietly and kissed the curve of your neck.

“I’m just stating the reality.” You shrugged “I wonder if you really haven’t taken a bite of her among shifts.” At that point, you were just wanting to mess with him a bit.

“Well, I’ll summarize my answer simply saying that all of my office furniture has been christened with you.” Safe to say it got you out off guard; you didn’t doubt the fact that death would be a more considerable option for Jack if the other option was cheating on you, but you were aware that he had a life before you and that new information was something you were not expecting.

“Now, that’s the kind of news I like to receive on a turbulent day.” You admitted with a wide smile.

“Good, now ease your jealous, y’know I’d kiss the ground you walk if you asked me to.” He finished the phrase with a soft nibble on your shoulder, making you squirm a bit on his lap.

“Personally, I’d prefer you to use your mouth for other stuff.”

“Now tell me something I don’t know.” Jack teased and faster than the blink of an eye, you were sat on his desk, his hands all over you and his mustache tickling the sensitive skin that was exposed on your cleavage. You tried to keep your breath slow, aware that making any loud sound wouldn’t be a good idea. Both of your hands dived on Jack’s hair, your fingers tangling on the brown strands as you got more softened by his touch.

With no ceremony, Jack sneaked his hands under your skirt, taking off your panties and moving his fingers to your pulsing core as his other hand quickly rested over your mouth to suppress your pleased noise, which wasn’t very helpful to your self-control, since the feeling of his huge calloused hand covering your mouth and a good part of your face just helped your dirty thoughts to go further.

Enjoying the view of your body softening, Jack kept his fingers working between your legs, smirking at every single spasm of your hips. Conscious about how close you were to losing control of your noises, you bit the palm of Jack’s hand, sinking your teeth more into his skin as two of his fingers slid inside you and his thumb rubbed your swollen clit.

Yes, you knew that all those papers with the Statesman logo spread over his desk probably were important, but you weren’t giving a shit about that fact at that moment, letting one of your hands crumple the nearest pile of pages. Caring less than you, Jack decided to move further, kneeling on the floor so his head was placed between your thighs. You didn’t have the time to catch your breath before his tongue was buried in your wet core and you managed your body reactions the best you could, pulling his hair, smashing the papers on the desk, and keeping your bite on the palm of his hand.

Your eyes rolled back as your eyelids fell close, your mind doing you no favor as you thought about the fact that, even being the charming boss who could have spent a good time with half of the Statesman staff during his office hours, you were the first person to have that kind of moment with him at his office, and the meeting room, and the warehouse of barrels…

Seeming to know that you were deeply stuck on the moment, Jack didn’t spare his efforts, keeping his fingers and mouth working rhythmically on your throbbing cunt, getting more pleased as he felt your thighs squeezing his head more and more at the same pace your fingers twisted a huge portion of his hair, causing a slight pain Jack enjoyed deeply.

You got the last straw when his fingers curled inside you, providing you with the single push you needed to get over the edge, involuntarily moving your hips and letting out an audible moan, feeling your whole body starting to melt as Jack slowed his motion until completely stop, needing a few seconds to process what was going on when he sat back on his chair and pulled you to his lap, letting you nestle between his arms and kissing the top of your head.

“Can I ask a question?” your voice came out quiet after a moment.

“Of course, love.” Jack answered promptly while moving one hand to caress your back.

“I’m getting this treatment every time I show up to ask you for money?” you looked up at him with a lazy smile.

“Only if you’re all jealous for no reason.” He answered with a cocky grin, leaning forward to give you a soft peck on the lips.

Translations: Aquela vaca do caralho- that fucking bitch Não fode- don't fuck/mess with me

Tagging: @missladym1981

[napakmahal]

I can’t re-respond but an anon a while ago requested a Tadashi and cna reader. But because I’m on a dad! Tadashi frenzy, Bodie will be making another appearance.

They say that doctors make the worse patients, but you and your boyfriend aren’t doctors. You’re a cna and his minor was in medicine along with his major in robotics. So maybe you weren’t the worse patients but for people with more medical knowledege than the average person you made for some very crappy caretakers. Now, it’s not because you two are irresponsible but one thing you learn in medical school is you can’t let it get too personal. You need to be realistic so your patients can be idealistic. But it’s hard to do that when your patient is four years old, and your own daughter.

When Bodie was two, you noticed she was having a hard time breathing. She’d wheeze as she slept and when she cried she’d stop breathing. You and your boyfriend did extensive research and even made a spreadsheet to organize her breathing data. It concerned you but family medical history showed that it ran in Tadashi’s family to have asthma. Hiro had a hard time breathing as a kid, Tadashi needed to carry around an inhaler in high school, and their dad slept with a CPAP machine most of his life. You two came to the conclusion that it was just genetic and she would likey need an inhaler when she got older. That was until Bodie was eventually diagnosed with non-eosinophilic asthma, or therapy resistance asthma. Normal asthma treatments didn’t work on Bodie.

At first sound of the news, you cried. How could you be around people with problems similar and not recognize them in your own daughter? Tadashi wasn’t feeling much better. He built a robot designed with over ten thousand medican procedures programmed into it only to overlook his baby girls severe asthma. That night, while you sat in the hospital and Bodie slept with an oxygen mask on you’d come to the same conclusion: We failed as parents and we let our daughter down.

But disappointment is one hell of a motivator. Since then you two had developed a well organized routine to try and prevent any future attacks. Every morning at 6:30 Tadashi would wake her up gently and have her breathe in one dosage of corticosteroids for twenty seconds each pump. Then he’s have her put some water in her mouth, slosh it around, and spit it out into a bowl to prevent yeast. In the middle of the day you’d make her drink hot tea to spit out any sticking mucus. By the night you and Tadashi would have her wear an ocisllator while you read a book to her and rubbed her back till she coughed out enough mucus for one night. That was your routine over and over again. And it worked, so imagine the horror when you needed to run to the emergency room in the middle of the night because Bodie couldn’t breathe properly and it was becoming clearer that it could not be handled at home.

“We’re almost there, baby.” You cooed, trying your best to make her feel better. You had sat with her in the backseat while Tadashi tried his hardest not to drive a noticeable amount over the speed limit.

Bodie’s breathing was scarily irratic, her heart was racing at a million miles per hour, and you could hear the obviously painful wheezing coming from her mouth and chest. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes in pain.

The second you pulled up to the emergency room (parked horribly) Tadashi held Bodie like a baby and rushed inside while you pulled up all her medical information and cards from your phone and wallet.

While you checked her in, you could hear Tadashi shushing Bodie and rubbing her back gently. “I know, baby. I know, it hurts.”

Normally there is nothing urgent about the pacing of the emergency room. You could easily wait a few hours there in a waiting room with fifty other people. But because of Bodie’s age, state, and prexisting condition they got her in within minutes. The medically trained sides of you and Tadashi said that was lucky, but the parent sides of you two were not satisfied that it took that long.

They gave her midazolam to calm her heart down, put her on a breathing machine, and kept her there for two days. When you called, Aunt Cass and Hiro came running towards the hospital to spend time with Bodie. But they had to leave every night.

By your second nights stay, you’d gone to use the bathroom down the dark hospital corridor. When you left, Tadashi was unfortably sitting in one of the chairs with his head tilted back towards the wall, but when you came back you saw him sitting right next to Bodie’s bed, running his hand over her hair. He just sat there and watched her breathe, her little lungs giving it her all. Her stuffed penguin started slipping from her hand when Tadashi grabbed it from falling and tucked it into her chest. And that was it, you began to cry at the sight of your boyfriend tucking your poor little girl into her hospital bed.

“Hey,” Tadashi looked up at you. “What’s wrong?”

You said nothing and instead just walked over to the seat next to his and rested your head on his shoulder. Now both of you were watching baby Bodie struggle together.

“You okay?”

You honestly answered “no” while shaking your head and still crying. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the pain you felt watching her, or maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it was mentally kicking your ass.

Tadashi pulled his hand away from Bodie’s head and turned all his attention towards you. He rested his forehead against yours and asked, “Will you talk to me, please?”

“I don’t know how I could let this happen,” You answered honestly. “I’m supposed to prevent these things from happening to patients and I couldn’t stop it from happening to her.”

He immediately started shaking his head left to right. “No, ba-baby listen to me, nobody could have kept this from happening. There was nothing you could have done, am I right?”

He is right, but that doesn’t make you feel any less like a shitty parents.

“It’s just…” You don’t even finish the sentence because you know he understands.

Tadashi took a deep breath and looked back at Bodie, his bottom lip starting to shake and his eyes going glossy. “I know, I just need to tell her I’m sorry.”

“What?” Your voice broke halfway through. “Why sorry?”

A singular tear fell from his eye which he quickly wiped away. “She’s in so much pain, I know she is…and it’s my fault.”

“How could it be your fault?”

More tears gently fall out of Tadashis deep brown eyes, “It’s my genes. She gets this from me- I’m the reason she’s hurting. I feel so sorry.”

Your heart nrealy cracked in half at his words. This man dedicated his life to making sure Bodie was loved, cherished, healthy, and happy. And now he was blaming himself for her unfortunate suffering that really was just a bad luck of the draw.

You were quick to respond, “No, this is not your fault-”

“It is though y/n.” He softly interrupted you while resting his head on the side of the hospital bed. “This whole asthma thing runs in my family, and I gave it to her.”

“You gave her so much more than this.” You shook your head. He gave everything for Bodie and now he was reducing it to bad genetics and it was fucking sad.

You leaned down and dug your head into his neck. Muffling off all the wonderful things Bodie got from her father. “You gave her those beautiful brown eyes, and that little dimple on her left cheek, and god forbid she’d gotten my dental genes-”

Tadashi sniffled and let out a laugh at the mention of your family’s unfortunate dental genetics. You also mentioned that once the doctor had told you that Bodie would likey grow up to be very tall, something she definitely got from Tadashi.

“But you also gave her your mind, because she is so smart like her daddy. And you gave her your heart because when she cares she cares one hundred percent just like her daddy. And she loves like her daddy, and she laughs like him.” You could go on forever. They were so similar in everything, he was practically born to be not just A dad, but to be HER dad.

“Do you remember what she looked like as baby?” You whispered, but it was rhetorical. Of course he remembered, you’d have to whack him in the back of the head with a metal bat in order for him to forget. “Just. Like. You.”

Tadashi paused before saying, “She got Hiro’s hair.”

“Pffft.” You two started laughing as quietly as possible at the memory. Bodie was born with a full head of crazy light brown hair that eventually fell out and grew back as jet black.

All the memories of Bodie came spilling out of your mouths like word vomit. Like when she was doing tummy time but Mochi was confused by the concept of babies so he started pawing it her to see if she’d move. Or when Tadashi knocked on the doorframe and pretending he hit her head on it. “Oh my gosh, baby I’m so sorry are you okay?” and laughed when she started crying like she was in the worst pain of her life. The first time she met Baymax she though it was the funniest thing ever and kept poking at the inflatable material. When she’d first started talking, she was sitting on her playmat with Hiro and she tried pronouncing his name.

“Hee-row,” He broke his name down into phonics. “Hiro.”

“Hee-o.”

“No, Hee-rrrrr-o” He dramticalled rolled his r’s.

Stubbornly, she insisted, “Hee-o”

“Hee-o” Hiro gave in with a smile on his face accepting his new name.

By the end of sharing memories you were laughing and crying at the same time. It was so bittersweet. The memories of your daughter being so happy with you two were clashed with the pain such a happy little girl was going through. A four years old needed a machine to help her breath and a IV too big for her arm drip down anti-anxiety medication because her little heart was beating too fast for her body. While you and Tadashi acknowledged that nobody is to blame for the terrible things Bodie has to go through, the mommy and daddy guilt is just too much to bare.

So the next day, after Bodie was discharged you would spend the entire day with her (inside because after an attack like that she can’t go outside without a mask on for a while). You’d invite her uncle Hiro and her great-aunt Cass and you would just hang out all day. At the end of the night while she wore her vest, you would watch a movie with your family and Bodie would not haver a designated bedtime. Just so she could spend as much time as possible with her family.

But that would be for tomorrow. Because for now, you two would sit by your baby Bodie while she heaved her chest up and down. Soaking in as much air the world both you and Tadashi brought her into had to offer.

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Four

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 5214

Summary: A washed up movie star with a failing career, fresh out of rehab and looking to turn his life around. He moves back to his small hometown to take a break from stardom and help his sister out with his niece- He's traded the high-life for school runs and crafting. What he doesn't except is to meet you, his niece's school teacher who couldn't care less about his extensive filmography or his dwindling fame.

Warnings: 18+ blog; language, absent parents, abandonment as a child, anxious feelings, mentions of food and drinks, tiredness affecting life, mention of drug use but no actual usage, Dieter working with Sponsor and secular 12 step program, mentions of divorce, Dieter being a cool uncle, I think that everything and like always please let me know if I got anything.

A/N: We survived Chapter 3! It was a doozy of a chapter, but I was loving reading through everyone’s comments!! Starting this chapter, I was super nervous because it was already plotted out, but I was worried if it was going to flow well enough after our big blowup. We get lots of things this chapter though, so I didn’t want to scrap it. Big thank you’s to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a champ beta reader for me, and to @purple-elm for lending her knowledge in recovering/addiction- so appreciate you both. I’m excited for you all to read and can’t wait to hear your thoughts!! PS: reader finally gets her nickname next chapter!! xx

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

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They say Rome wasn’t built in a day. 

The same could be said about your relationship with Dieter. 

Relationship?

Friendship?

Acquaintance-ship?

Two people forced into proximity, each attempting to mend their broken, dejected lives— owning their wrong doings through humility and self reflection. 

It had been weeks since the disastrous evening at Diem’s. You wouldn’t say the tension between you and Dieter had gotten better, but you could say it hadn’t gotten any worse. 

You had hoped the fog would have lifted with each passing day, but the more time went on, the guilt of your actions seemed to establish a spot within your mind, replaying each moment in a series of vivid flashes— a torturous occurrence. 

It didn’t help that you and Dieter now crossed paths on a regular basis. Him in your classroom for brief periods to drop off Wren. You at Diem’s place for your girl chats and the random movie nights. 

Each run in was cordial with minimal communication, mainly because you were terrified of saying something wrong, but then it became not knowing what to say at all—so you kept dialogue brief and to the point, never veering too far from your comfortability. 

*

Routines are an integral element to your everyday life. From the minute you wake, your body’s natural response is to begin working through each daily duty without a single thought. 

School mornings unfold in the same manner each day, from the moment you click off your alarm to stopping at the bakery for your breakfast sandwich, your routine has you feeling confident and motivated to tackle any challenges that may arise during the rest of your day. 

Routines work well, until they don’t. 

That first trickle of wakefulness, your hormones performing their cyclic functions, seeping into your listless body. The sound of the birds chirping and morning commuters rushing to their respective destinations has you rolling on your side. You groan at the vague memory of your sleepless night, playback of your fight with Dieter still haunting you in your dreams. 

A few cautious blinks, your eyelids working against the light filtering in from your bedroom window, vision slowly shifting into a clearer image as you focus on the red numbers on display— 

7:30

“Shit!” Your body shoots up into a sitting position, frantically rubbing your eyes in hopes that you had read the time wrong. 

7:31 clicks over. 

You overslept! But your alarm?? You check the little device that’s been your morning comrade for years, mentally berating it for not alerting you, only to discover it’s your own fault— setting the time for 6:30 pm instead of am. 

The first bell rings at 8:00, leaving you 30 minutes to race through getting yourself ready and to school on time to prep for class. 

There’s no wiggle for a shower or taking your time to properly wake up. It’s a mad dash to get dressed, only to find your usually clean and organized closet in a state of distress— clothes half hanging on hangers, mingled piles of clean and dirty clothes and no real distinction of which is what. Your only option is to pull from your weekend wear of very casual and not something you would ever wear to school, except for in times like this— desperate times call for your favorite vintage band tee and distressed jeans. 

A quick wash of your face and a few swipes of mascara before you’re slipping into a pair of your favorite sneakers and dashing to grab a cup of coffee. 

Upon your arrival into the kitchen, you notice that you had also forgotten to set your coffee maker before bed. You try to not let it frustrate you, but the thought of having to endure the day on not only a lack of sleep, but no caffeine as well has you on the verge of tears. 

Your shoulders sag, your head tilting back and eyes closed as a mumbled annoyance bubbles up from your throat. Accepting that you can’t change the outcome for your lousy morning, you lean into your optimistic thinking and wish the rest of the day goes well. You grab your school tote as you head to your car, thankful the drive there from your house is a short one. 

You don’t make a stop at the teachers lounge to say your ‘good mornings’ to the office staff or grab any important papers that might have been slipped into your teacher inbox since yesterday. 

It's a brisk walk through the school halls, avoiding any eye contact with your neighboring teachers, mentally crossing your fingers there’s no mention of your less than appropriate school attire. 

Door unlocked and propped open, a few switches flicked upward triggering the fluorescent overhead lights to flash on, you made it with merely minutes to spare. 

You take a moment to collect yourself, clearing your mind from the morning blunder before you put on your cheerful facade for 20 little humans. 

The classroom is filled with bits of your personality and things that bring you delight. Classic educational posters of shapes, colors, numbers and the alphabet mixed about with various paintings you had done to add more vibrant color to the otherwise boring beige walls. 

There was a small area of wall space next to your desk reserved for artwork that was gifted to you from your students. You allot time every day to share your love for art with them, letting them explore their creativity through drawing and painting. By the end of the week, you would have a nice little collection you would gather to take home to store for safekeeping. 

A few picture frames, a photo of your mom sat beside one of you and Diem from when you were celebrating her signing the purchase of the hotel, teaching tools and organization trays along with a computer all sat neatly on your desk. 

Your most favorite item that lived on your desktop was the little vase you filled every week with fresh flowers from the farmers market. Always a small bundle of poppies assorted colors, depending on the flower vendor. They brought you memories of your childhood, sitting on the front porch as your mom knelt in the soil-beds, planting and sharing her knowledge of plants and flowers alike. You glance at them throughout your school day, a quiet reminder of home. 

You begin to prep for your class, mindful of the fact you still need to unload your paperwork from your bag. A thorough cleaning of the whiteboard, writing out of the day’s assignments and activities, then pulling the read-aloud book of the day. 

As you’re sifting through your notes and paperwork at your desk in the back of your class, arranging in the order of your day’s lesson plan, your students start to wander through the door with vigorous hugs and enthusiastic goodbyes from their parents. 

“Good morning students! Go ahead and grab yourself a book and sit quietly on the floor up front.”

“Good morning!!” Their little voices ring through the room, the sound alone has redeemed the mood of the day. 

A glance at the clock and you have 5 minutes before the bell announces the start of school and the majority of your students are reading quietly. 

“I’m gonna miss Uncle Dude!! Can we still get ice cream after school?”

“Yeah, we can!”

“Yay!”

The conversation between Dieter and Wren grabs your attention as you continue your morning prep. 

Dieter and Wren were usually the last to arrive to class every morning. From your desk you would quietly watch their interaction, him kneeling to her level and her little hands resting on his shoulders— as if she’s the one coaching them through their departure. 

You don’t always catch much of their conversations, even knowing both of them on a personal level outside of your classroom, this brief moment together is reserved for them. 

Giving your agenda one last look and comparing with your lessons, you notice a single paper for the first assignment of the day— there should be a stack of 20 plus one. 

In your frenzy of a morning, it must have slipped your mind to check if any of your lessons needed to be copied and now with literal minutes before the bell you didn’t have enough time to run to the office and back, nor did you have anyone to watch your students while doing so. 

“Ugh! This can’t be happening?!” Thinking out loud your frustration, trying to decide if you can push the lesson off until later in the day or just scrape it all together. 

“You okay?” Dieter’s gruff voice draws you in, it’s honeyed and sincere as it floats through the air.

“Umm, yeah—“ His expression was undemanding as you took him in. His chestnut hair slightly disheveled, but with purpose. The amber of his eyes held your gaze, unequivocal as he surveyed your distress. “Actually, no I’m not. I way over slept, which means I didn’t get a chance to grab any coffee or make copies for this morning’s lesson—“

Ding

The ringing of the bell interrupts the conversation, your students scattering to put books away and await your instruction. 

“Please have a seat on the floor and sit quietly for a moment while I talk with Mr. Bravo.” You announce in your teacher-like voice.

“Go, I’ll watch them.” 

“What?” Your head snapping back over Dieter. 

“Go make your copies. I’ll watch them until you get back.”

“I can’t just leave them alone without a teacher.”

“They won’t be alone, they’ll be with me. Plus, I played a teacher on a tv show once— can’t be that hard doing the actual thing.” 

“I’m going to ignore that last part.”

You’re not sure why Dieter is even offering to help you, you don’t feel like you deserve it— but you really need it and he’s convincing in his own way. 

“Okay— but no mention of this to anyone! Don’t let any of them leave or talk you into anything— they can be very persuasive.”

“We’ll be fine! Go!” He gives your arm a little pat as he smiles, an authentic lopsided toothy grin— it’s been a while since you had seen him genuinely smile. 

Without a second thought, you grab the worksheet and make your way to the printer located across campus in the main building of the school. 

You ignore the questioning looks from the sweet office ladies, they know your presence in the office at this time is out of your usual routine. Thankfully, none of them decide to investigate the matter or mention anything about your attire. 

The giant printer takes its time as it spits out the warm, freshly inked paper into the tray, taking its sweet time. The whirring of the machine drowning out your thoughts of Dieter back in your classroom, hoping the kids aren’t wearing him down.

As you near the classroom door, you’re imagining your students overthrowing authority and running circles around Dieter with him tied to a chair— the imaginary makes you chuckle. 

What you’re met with is anything but a cataclysmic event, it’s far from it actually. You quietly lean against the doorframe, not ready to announce your arrival back, taking in the sight of your students still sitting in their designated spots on the floor as Dieter stands before them animatedly answering questions. 

“Okay, I’ll answer one more.”

“Uncle Dude!!” “Pick me!!” “Uncle Dude, me next” Each student’s hand shooting up at once, they’re little voices vying for his attention. 

“Kid with the funny haircut in the front, hit me with your question.” He says as he points to the kid who had a scissor mishap last week, resulting in a wonky style that he decided was cool enough to wear. 

“Uncle Dude, how much money do you have?”

“Uh, that’s a weird question, kid. Your haircut makes a lot of sense now.”

“Alright students! Time to say goodbye to Uncle Dude.” Pushing yourself forward as you make your way to the front and stand next to Dieter, saving him from any further innocent but invasive questions. 

“Noooooo!” They respond in unison to you cutting off their Q & A time. 

“Well, maybe we can have him come back another time if he’s not busy. Everyone get settled at your desks so we can get started and I’m going to say goodbye to Uncle Dude.”

Once you’ve made it to the back of the class, you wait for Dieter who’s giving Wren one last hug goodbye. 

In this moment you could feel that fog that had still been looming over the both of you, finally starting to burn off. And for the first time, you could picture yourself getting to know Dieter better, instead of wanting to run in the opposite direction of him. 

He catches you staring as he makes way back to where you’re waiting for him by the door. That lopsided smile etched across his face again, this time accompanied with a wink— your stomach spontaneously doing somersaults at his little quirk. 

“So, Uncle Dude?” 

“Mister is way too formal.” 

“Yeah, I guess it kind of is. Um— thanks for doing this for me, I know things between us are not—“

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He shakes his head as he cuts you off before you can really mention how strained things still are between you two. You don’t sense any malice in his response, so you try not to read too much into it. 

“I guess I’ll see you around, or something.” 

“Yeah— yeah. I’ll see you around. Thanks again, Dieter.”

Exchanging goodbyes, you both go your separate ways. 

You are so focused on passing out the freshly printed worksheets to your students, that you don’t catch Dieter standing in the doorway, unmoving as he observes you moving about the room so carefree in your element. 

Once the bell announces the first break for the day, you take the opportunity to head to the teacher’s lounge in search of a snack, realizing you hadn’t eaten breakfast or had any time to pack a lunch before leaving this morning. 

Arriving back to your class, with an orange and water bottle you grabbed, you’re grateful there’s still 10 minutes left of the break, plenty of time to sit and enjoy the quiet. 

You plop yourself down into your chair, eyes closed, taking a moment to breathe and daydream about what you’ll have for dinner. 

Deciding you wasted enough of your break, you set out to eat your orange, when you catch sight of a cup sitting on your desk that wasn’t there earlier. It’s obvious to you that it’s filled with coffee, but how it found its way into your life is beyond you. 

As you pick it up, its contents shift and its rich velvety aroma permeates the air around you. That first cautious sip is heavenly, an instant surge of dopamine the second the bittersweet liquid hits your throat. 

“Mmm.” Not even caring no one can hear your audible enjoyment. 

As you go to place the paper down, you notice black pen marks on the side. Twisting the cup to get a better look, you see a message written knowing immediately who left the coffee. 

You beam at the words and can’t help but think of this as an olive branch extended to you as a gesture of mending open wounds. 

“Let it Gogh. Hope your day gets better! - Uncle Dude”

*

“How did you feel after the fight, for lack of a better word?”

“I was pissed, angry, frustrated— sad.”

“Those are all reasonable reactions. Let’s focus on the sadness you felt. What were you feeling in that moment?”

“I think at first, I was sad that my sister thought so lowly of me— it hurt to hear her agree with this woman who I only just met.”

“Did that sadness change into something else?”

“Yeah— then I was sad at the realization that I had caused my sister so much pain over the years. That I was a selfish asshole— sorry.”

“You’re fine.” 

“That I was a selfish jerk who was so consumed by the chase of the next high and the high itself, that I couldn’t see how it was affecting anyone else around me.”

“Okay. Now, the anger part— do you think that feeling correlates with sadness? Maybe the anger you were feeling wasn’t directed at the right person, that deep down the person you are truly angry with is yourself?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense. I mean yeah I was pissed hearing the crap being said about me— but I guess, if I had been sober like I said I was, these things wouldn’t have been said to begin with.”

“How does that realization feel?”

“It sucks, but it’s the truth.”

“At any point following this argument, did you have the urge to use?”

“No.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because, I want to stay clean— prove to myself, and my sister, that I’m stronger than my addiction.”

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear that. Now, the goal here is to use your coping strategies to continue to help you when situations like this arise. How do you think you’ll handle things in the future?”

“Continue calling you regularly to stay in check, revisit my 12-Steps, use that 54321 Method, it has been helping me focus, and leaning on friends and family the most.”

“I can email you over a few book suggestions too that helped me get through some dark times if you’d like?”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you for listening.”

“Of course, Dieter. I'm here to support you however you need it.”

The day following the blow up with you and then Diem giving him some hard truths, Dieter had reached out to the Sponsor he had been working with while in treatment. 

After their conversation, Dieter came to the realization he had no right to be upset with anyone but himself— a hard truth to swallow. 

Every week since then, he calls his Sponsor for a cheek in to review his Steps and see which areas he wants to improve on more until their next session. Afterwards he usually goes for a drive to clear his head before he heads back to Diem’s house. 

Tonight is no different, except when he pulls his car into the driveway, he remembers it’s movie night and he had forgotten to mention to Diem he’d be late to it. He takes a minute to himself, also realizing you would be inside too. 

The moon gives off an understated brilliancy as the silence coated the world around him, unguided thoughts streaming from his subconscious. 

While you both had been around each other and shared minimal words, there was still a tension among the two of you and Dieter wasn’t sure how willing and open you would be to talk to him about it. 

He recalls that one morning at school drop off, you had seemed a little stressed and tired, offering to help you seemed like a great way to initiate a good starting point in mending the situation between you. 

You were receptive, showing no signs of harboring any hatred towards him, a step in the right direction. 

The way you looked at him, sincerity washing over your features, he felt a palpable sense of relief— you must feel the same way. 

He didn’t push for more or beg for a chance to prove to you that he had changed, so he led by action and hoped you would see him, a man who was willing and capable to do the work he needed to make a change in himself. 

Shadowed movements float across the house window, a sign to make his way inside. 

There’s an even placidness when he walks through the door, the muffled sound of the tv hardly detectable as its display radiates a glow throughout the living room space. 

“You missed movie night.” Diem’s voice, barely above a whisper, alerts him to her presence in the kitchen. 

“Sorry. I had a call with my Sponsor then went for a drive— totally slipped my mind that it was tonight.”

“Don’t apologize— But maybe a text next time, so I’m not worrying you’re dead on the side of the road or something.” She joins in the entryway and engulfs him with a hug. 

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

“How’d your call go?”

“Good— It was good. Some days I think I’m strong enough and don’t need to call, that I’m fully prepared to navigate through my shit on my own. And then I realize how dumb that sounds.” He huffs out a single sigh, a hand resting in his jean’s pocket as his other rubs the back of his neck. “But they help, so I keep calling.”

“That’s great.”

“How was the movie?? Wren asleep already?”

“Frozen 2 again, so I guess you really didn’t miss much.”

He already knows Wren spent most of the movie reciting her favorite lines and singing along to every song, she usually convinces them all to join in. 

“They’re still passed out though, I was just getting ready to attempt to put Wren in her bed.” 

He looks to where Diem is pointing, the couch where he hadn’t seen a heap of pillows and what he can only assume is you and Wren sleeping. 

“I’m going to wake them, hopefully Wren will go back down easily. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gives a kiss to his cheek before making her way to where Wren is fast asleep in your arms. 

He watches as Diem slowly wakes you while untangling Wren’s little body from your arms, cradling her as if she was still a tiny baby and whispering to her sweet little praises, then disappearing down the hallway. 

A yawn escapes as you stretch from where you’re still sitting on the couch, twisting and pulling, loosening your joints and muscles for your walk home. 

Grabbing your phone and keys from the coffee table, you set out on your journey back to your house, but you’re startled when you nearly bump into Dieter in the middle of the entryway. 

“Easy there.” He steadies you, placing his hands on your upper arms as you find your balance. 

“Sorry, I didn’t even see you there. I must be more tired than I thought. You missed movie night, Wren had to carry most of the songs herself.” You voice is still laced with a small trace of sleep. 

“Yeah, I had an appointment and totally blanked on what day it was. I’ll be here for the next one though.” He notes the way your head tilts a bit when you’re really listening, the way your lips turn up just a tad, not a full smile but enough to convey the sentiment. “It looks good on you.”

“Hmm?” Your brain still muddled and drowsy, confused by his comment. 

“This—“ His hand reached out to you, his fingers flicking at the lapel of his brown fuzzy overcoat. “Looks good on you.”

You look down, realizing what you were wearing, a twinge of embarrassment filters through you. 

“Oh gosh! I’m sorry, I forgot I had it on. I had forgotten a sweater and got cold, Wren brought it to me to wear. It was so warm, we fell asleep I guess.” Over explaining the situation as you begin to remove it from your body— he finds it funny that Wren immediately went for his coat before an actual blanket. 

“Keep it— It’s cold out, it will keep you warm on your way home. I’ll get it at some point.”

The fog has lifted, gone— replaced with an airy breeze that swirls in and around the both of you. 

“Okay, thank you.” 

“Besides, I’m sure Diem will love not seeing it around for a bit.”

“That explains her eye roll when Wren came running out with it.” 

“Well, I guess this is good night then.” 

“Good night Dieter.”

He opens the door and you make your way out to the front porch, a gust of wind sweeping through has you immediately grateful for his coat. 

When you reach the sidewalk at the end of the driveway, something tells you to turn around. 

There, as if waiting for you to safely make it across the street in the direction of your house, Dieter stands watching. 

You give him a little wave, a final goodbye. 

When he waves back, you sense this might be the start of something new. 

*

Some weekends were extra work days for you, catching up on grading and planning out any projects that you had added to lesson plans last minute. 

There were times when you were caught up on everything, leaving you two full days of no plans or expectations. 

It was a beautiful balmy Saturday, the sun had begun situating itself at its highest point, the perfect day to explore downtown. 

After tending to your little garden, watering and pulling weeds, you had decided to walk down to Bart’s Bookstore to browse their intake of used books. 

Any free time you had, you always wound up at Bart’s, whether it was to pick up your next read or leaf through potential reads on their patio, enjoying an ice cold tea and sandwich. 

The outdoor bookstore was open concept, literally no walls, just a tin roof and shelves displaying their contents in an outdoor setting. While they did have operating hours, they also ran by the honor system if you came and found something after they closed— leave your money, take your book. 

You took your time perusing each shelf, hoping to come across something to replace the novel you had just finished. 

Making your way down another aisle, you spotted a familiar face sitting at a table, Dieter. 

From what you could tell, he was alone, reading but able to make out the title from where you were. 

This was the first time you had run into him outside of your normal setting of school and Diem’s house, not really sure if you just pretend like you didn’t see him or use this as an opportunity to sit and talk with him. 

Your feet decide the latter for you. 

“Dieter?”

He looks up, squinting as his hand attempts to block the sun shining directly in his eyes, that lopsided grin slowly widens at recognizing it’s you standing before him. 

The hem of your sundress billows as the breeze picks up, a small stack of tattered books tucked under your arms, he decides that you look ethereal as the sun drapes its glowing rays around you. 

“Hey! What are you up to?”

“I came to find a new book, just finished my last one.” Glancing down to the books you’re holding, in case he hadn’t seen them. 

“Find anything good?”

“Not sure yet, but they seem promising. You alone?” 

“Yeah, decided to get out for a bit, while Diem and Wren are out shopping. Seemed like the best place to be with this nice weather we’re having.”

You nod in agreement. 

“Would it be okay if I talk to you— if we talk… I mean— if you’re not busy, would it be okay if we talked for a bit?”

“Sure, take a seat.” Gesturing to the open chair across from him. 

Placing the books on the metal table, you sit in the chair, scooting it forward to the table as you find a comfortable position. 

“Thanks. I’ve been wanting to talk with you— I-I’ve just been so nervous and wasn’t really sure you’d even want to talk to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?” He leans back, a leg crossed over the other with one arm draped over the back of his chair as his forearm of the other rests against the table— his fingers rubbing against each other as he waits for you to share. 

“I’ve been wanting to apologize for what I said— screaming at Wren’s party and telling Diem to not have you stay with her. I should have never—“

“It’s fine. Water under the bridge.” His chestnut locks begin to move about as another breeze moves around, he tucks the loose strands behind his ear. 

“No, I need to apologize— you didn’t deserve how I treated you and I’m ashamed that’s how things went down.” 

“Thank you. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure— yes.”

“Why did you hate me so much? Diem mentioned something about your past— she wouldn’t tell me though.”

Your fingers toy with the edges of one of the books, you take a deep breath and decide to share with him your feelings behind being so harsh towards him. 

“This is going to sound so dumb, but my Dad was an actor— still is? I don’t know, I haven’t talked to him in years.”

“Really? I did not expect that.” 

“Yeah. He left when I was little, maybe 3 or so. He had this wild idea that he was destined to be some big time actor, and was going to be famous— the works.” 

“What happened?”

“He never came back. He called every few months, and sent my mom some money. But then the calls just kind of dropped off. After about a year of silence, my mom received divorce papers out of the blue. It was just her and I after that.” You take a minute, glance at him to see if you can get a sense of what he’s thinking— his expression empathetic towards the words you’re saying. 

“So, I grew up with an aversion for anything pertaining to actors and Hollywood. I decided they were all just out to better themselves, leaving their families for a better life.”

Your throat feels dry after baring yourself to him, grateful he gave you the opportunity to share this piece of your life with him in such a raw manner. 

“I’m sorry, about your dad. My parents are in the industry, and while they didn’t outright abandon Diem and I, they weren’t all that active in our lives growing up. I thought I could do it differently though— make it as an actor, but do it better. Upside to having famous parents is it’s a shoe in with getting booked, everyone already wants to work with you because of your name— no one cared if I was any good or not. So I had to work ten times harder just to get some sort of recognition for my acting skills. I think the attention and the fame eventually did get to my head— I lost who I was and why I wanted to become an actor in the first place. The drugs kind of numbed it all, made me think less about how I was hating everything around me and kept me going. And, well we all know how that ended.”

“I’m so sorry Dieter.” Your eyes fixed onto his and you grabbed  for his hand, giving a gentle squeeze, a quiet ‘thank you’ to him for sharing his story with you. 

He turns his hand and reciprocates the gesture, his thumb drawing little circles on the back of your hand. 

“You’ve already seen me at my worst, why not give me a chance at my best.”

Next

[noangeleither]

think i finally figured out sydney’s age using real evidence and not just vibes and voices in my head. and it’s crazy bc i guessed sydney was 26/27. and I wasn’t that far.

Sydney earned her culinary arts degree at CIA located in upstate NY. Apparently, it takes less than two years to earn that degree. Assuming she graduated high school at 17/18, this would put her at about 19/20 when she graduates and also when she goes to NYC for a food tour.

i got to this conclusion trying to make a timeline for carmys career (which made my head hurt). We know Carmy is 28-30 bc he’s the same age as claire a doctor who’s in her residency and that’s usually the age at which you start. I was confused about how long he spent at EMP. Fishes takes place about five years before s2 , and carmy is said to be in Copenhagen working at NOMA, putting him at 24/25 in this episode.

His cousin Michelle offered for him to come to NYC. So assuming he made the change in the following year that would mean he was at EMP for about 4 years until he has to go back to chicago after his brother dies.

I still dont know where the french laundry or any other of the places or cities carmy has worked at fit into this timeline. I know he leaves his house after high school and doesn't go to college or culinary school i believe so I wonder how he got his start, to be featured in food and wine at 21 and also work at the best restaurant in the world by the time he's 24....insane. i hope we get a clearer picture in upcoming seasons.

back to syd....

So we know about 4/5 years before the start of the story, Sydney and Carmy are in NYC. Sydney is 19/20 and Carmy is 24/25. They have about a 5 year age gap. Therefore Sydney currently is 24/25, possibly 26. And I only say 26 because i cant believe she worked at so many places (including Michelin star restaurants), drove for UPS (or was that when she was at school? after?), started a business, and then had that business fail all in the span of 4 years. crazy. my girl needs a hug

also makes me wonder how far removed she is from Sheridan Road? like when she applies to be a sous chef at the Beef was this something that happened a couple months before? a year?

all things will be clearer with future episodes i guess.

i just find their lives before they met extremly intresting and love how intertwined they are 5 years before they even laid eyes on one another. fated fr

i want a flashback episode of sydney herself but i also think a flashback episode of the day sydney went to EMP would be cool too. Like dual POV we see Carmy being miserable, Sydney becoming inspired. also would be cool if they really played into the fated aspect. have them cross paths without ever meeting. like have Carmy get on the subway the same time sydney leaves it to get off at a stop (SCREAM).

[cherienymphe]

A stupid pet peeve of mine is people who watch movies with their eyes closed 🧍🏾‍♀️

Do you mind elaborating a bit more? Is this in reference to discourse about a recent movie or just in general??

THIS BULLSHIT RIGHT HERE 😭

I was thinking about blink twice and I remembered Lira Galore tweeting this bullshit and it got me heated all over again bc how is this a question? Girl were you sucking dick during the last 30 minutes of the movie? Blink Twice could not be any clearer about what happened

And then it reminded me of someone else on twt who said they were confused by Us (okay not a big deal bc I can see that) BUT THEN when someone replied to them talking about it and how the mom had been switched as a kid they were like "wait what? When did that happen?" and suddenly I wasn't so understanding bc they clearly watched the movie with their eyes screwed shut oh my gaaaaaawd

It just reminds me of conversations I'll see about certain movies or even questions some people will have and I'm not saying I'm this Uber intellectual who just *gets* movies better than anyone else bc I'm not but so many conversations around movies (hell, media in general) is from people literally not paying attention. It's literally people not even comprehending what their eyes are watching or being on their phone half the time

I once talked about the love witch to someone and how the whole storyline could be summed up in Elaine using love/sex magic to get what she wanted from men and not caring as to how it affected them in the end bc men have always hurt her and she's unconcerned with who gets hurt in her quest for fulfilling love and this stranger I'd replied to was like "how did you get that from the movie" and I said "it's literally what she said. As in half of those words came straight from her mouth at some point in the movie" 😭

[imaginesbymonika]

Silence.

Pairing: Matty Healy x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of drugs, rehab and an interventions, mentions of heartbreak

Plot: Two old lovers meet again.

read part two here

Song to listen to while reading:

Y/N hasn't been in London for a while now. Of course, whenever she and her band were touring she physically happened to be there, but emotionally speaking… she hasn't been in London for almost ten years. And walking these streets after all this time feels peculiar, almost as if she was existing in a dream-like state. She was supposed to remember, and she did- just not entirely. The young woman used to know this city by heart, she knew all the best places to get coffee for example… but those turned into pricey restaurants or supermarkets. Maybe it had something to do with the drugs she used to take, but maybe she simply grew up. Y/N was pushing 30. Maybe life is supposed to feel more ordinary once you reach a certain age.

Every now and then someone stops her. Tells her how much they love her and her music. Y/N puts the cigarette between her lips and places the brown cup of coffee on the damp pavement in order to take their phones into her hand. "What are you doing here?", they ask and she smiles before the words leave her lips. "It's the BBC. You know, we're doing some promo stuff. I left the guys in the studio to get some fresh air."

"That's really cool.", the young woman with the black leather jacket expresses while she puts her phone back into her pocket:" What a coincidence that your guys' album comes out on the same day. Feels like 2014 again." Y/N doesn't react, instead, she blinks a few times before she takes another deep breath from her cigarette. "Well, you know… the 1975 releases an album too."

Without missing a beat Y/N nods:" Oh yeah. That's who you're talking about. Yeah, that's fun." The brunette teenager with the painted-on freckles tilts her head, her eyes scanning her features:" Are you two still talking? You know, you and Matty."

The musician only shakes her head:" Sometimes. Anyway, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you."

Matthew. Y/N tries her best not to think about him too much. It doesn't always work, but oh well, she was at least trying. Her relationship with the British singer was everything but healthy. It was filled with so much love that it nearly choked her, but that alone couldn't save either of them. They dated for a few years after being friends for two, before it ended unexpectedly on a Wednesday afternoon with an intervention. Maybe, just maybe if she had said goodbye to him properly things would be more painless now- but by that point, they were both just way out of it. Their families agreed that it would be better to cut all ties between them. Y/N laughed when her mother dragged her out of the apartment, while Matty simply reproduced her behavior:" See you tomorrow, babe." But that didn't happen.

After that, she spent a full year in rehab, where she has written over a dozen songs about Matty. It was the only way she allowed herself to grieve. Y/N didn't talk about him during interviews, whenever someone brought it up she merely shook her head. Of course, she had heard his songs, after all, some of them managed to become radio hits. The 1975 became an enormous success and Y/N was secretly very happy for Matty. But she tries not to think about him too much. Being back in London now feels like returning to your childhood home after you moved out ages ago. It could never be the same.

She takes another deep breath and places the cigarette in between her fingers before she sits down on a bench. It's rather nice outside. The sky might be grey, but at least it isn't raining anymore. Y/N listens to how the birds in the naked trees sing their own songs and she even smiles at the people who walk past her.

Her y/e/ced eyes roam the park when suddenly her heart drops. For a moment she assumes that she's hallucinating. But the longer she stares the clearer it gets that she isn't imagining things. With his eyes looking right back at her Matty Healy is standing on the opposite side of the small lake. He is wearing a beige trench coat, while he himself is holding a cigarette in his hand.

Y/N parts her lips. A million thoughts are running through her head, but none want to leave her mouth. She hasn't seen him in person in such a long time but still, he manages to look the same. Matty resumes staring at her. Until she hesitatingly points at the empty space next to her. His gaze follows her hand and after a moment he nods his head. The singer slowly makes his way around the pond and once he reaches her he calmly sits down.

“Hey.”, he states and Y/N clears her throat. “Hi.” "Didn't expect to see you here.", he sounds, and the two watch how the little duck family swims around on the water. Y/N chuckles weakly, she wonders if he would have come into this area if he had known she would be there. But she doesn't ask:" We arrived this morning, to be fair."

And then he declares:" It's good to see you." And she didn't mean to cry, but Y/N can't help herself. The tears arise in her eyes and she brings her hand up to slightly shield them:" I'm sorry." "Hey.", he softly says:" Don't be, it's fine. Believe me, I want to cry too." A sniffled chuckle escapes her and he quickly mirrors it.

"I don't know. I just never truly knew how much I missed you until right now."

"Hey.", he speaks while his hand flies up towards his chest, and an acted painful expression covers his pretty face," I thought that you were being honest about me in your songs." Y/N doesn't laugh and neither does he. "I am.", she answers after a while:" Everything I have ever written about you is a hundred percent true. I want you to know that."

Matty takes a new cigarette out of his pocket and lights it up:" I don't think I have ever stopped writing about you. Truth be told, and all that." He makes a few hand gestures. For a while the two singers remain that way, sitting next to one another, and at some point, he reaches for her hand:" I wish we could meet each other again, for the first time."

Y/n turns her head to glance at him. His grey hairs are perceptible in between the dark locks. “Yeah, me too.”

[ficretus]

Theory: Speculating about Summer Maiden

So far Summer Maiden is the only Maiden we have no whereabouts of. Not even Vacuo novels provide anything about her or her Relic. I wanted to throw some thoughts around who I think will be Summer Maiden by the end of the Vacuo arc.

CURRENT SUMMER MAIDEN:

As I said, no idea. But let me get one thing out the way, I don't think Summer Rose is Summer Maiden or that she'll be at any point in the story. This might seem relatively weird considering so far characters with season in their name did eventually become Maiden of their respective season, but I don't think this is the case with Summer.

First of all, it would be bit random considering that power is tied to Vacuo and Summer herself doesn't have any Vacuo connections we know of. Second, it is somewhat implied that Summer is still alive, likely being Salem's Grimm experiment. If Summer was Summer Maiden and is under Salem's control, why would Salem bother with Cinder? Summer would be loyal subordinate that is second to none in combat. Why would you need to groom new subordinate of questionable loyalty and lesser combat ability? Third, in case she isn't Summer Maiden and is just one of Salem's thralls, I don't think she can inherit the power. Chronologically she'd be in late 30s or even 40s, making her too old to inherit the power.

For Summer to be Summer Maiden, it would mean she became one ages ago and isn't currently under Salem's control (because that kind of creates plot holes in Salem's plan). But I feel that both kind of damages her character (she becomes another Raven, abandoning her family for her own goals) and wastes implications Hound creates. I think her fate will be revealed during Vacuo arc, during summer portion of the story, if that makes sense.

I suspect we'll have another Amber or Fria situation with current Summer Maiden. As in, minimally established character that will give away their power to more important character narrative wise down the line.

GATHERING CLUES:

First place I looked into is The Four Maidens, in universe fairy tale about Maidens. For those uninitiated, it's a fairy tale about recluse Old Wizard being visited by girls representing Maidens. They visit him in sequence of Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, each teaching him valuable lesson.

Maiden lessons are key part to focus on here. While in the story, they are something Old Wizard has to learn, in RWBY it's something Maidens themselves have to learn.

For example, Winter appears in front of Old Wizard's house, sitting in state of absolute tranquility. Wizard sits down and copies her example thinking about his own strange predicament. This somewhat matches Winter, who in her own moment of clarity realizes Ironwood is lost cause and turns against him.

Other two examples are much clearer parallels. Spring shows up and plants flowers all over Old Wizard's yard, turning a pile of dirt into beautiful garden. This implies Spring Maiden is all about fostering life. This matches well as a lesson Raven needs to learn as a Spring Maiden, someone who both abandoned her family and used her protege as a decoy.

Fall Maiden urges Old Wizard to be thankful for what he has. This matches Cinder who needs to learn to be grateful for what she already has, instead of seeking out all other Maiden powers.

Summer Maiden convinces Old Wizard to step outside. Upon doing so, Old Wizard starts laughing at himself for even staying indoors all this time. So whoever becomes Summer Maiden needs to have a flaw that makes them distrustful of the world. Their character arc needs to be about opening themselves to the world.

______________________________________________________________

All three current Maidens also have personal connection to the members of Team RWBY. This is either set up for eventual transfer of power to respective members of Team RWBY or they simply exist as dark reflections of respective team members.

Raven is Yang's mother, Winter is Weiss' sister and Cinder is Ruby's nemesis. This mean, whoever will be Summer Maiden needs to have some kind of connection to Blake.

______________________________________________________________

Lastly, all three current Maidens were at some point of the story antagonists. Winter was an antagonist during the portion of Atlas arc as Ironwood's most loyal subordinate, Raven was antagonist throughout most of Mistral arc and Cinder is still major antagonist. So whoever becomes Summer Maiden had to have been antagonist at some point of the story.

CANDIDATES:

First candidate I have is Gillian Asturias, one of the main villains of Vacuo novels. She is leader of villainous Crown faction, who seek to restore Vacuoan monarchy with Gillian in charge. She believes she is descendant of legendary Vacuoan kings, albeit this claim is based on delusion her father convinced her of.

Why do I think she might become Summer Maiden? First of all, she is an antagonist. While at the end of the novel, she gets imprisoned... it's RWBY prison, nobody stays there. Her Semblance allows her to siphon Aura which theoretically means she could take the power all by herself (since all transfer methods we've seen so far were Aura based). She also has a motive to become a Maiden, what better way to show you are true heir to the throne then seizing divine power that allows you to control the elements.

She also fits with Summer Maiden lesson. She is extremely traditionalist, avoiding the use of both Dust and Scroll. Crown members are also xenophobic to some degree. Both of these traits make her good candidate for a lesson about opening yourself to the world.

Issue with her is that she has no connections to any member of Team RWBY. While it's not out the question they might eventually interact, I am doubtful writers will have her establish some really personal relationship with Blake. I think she might become Summer Maiden, but more of a interim Maiden like Penny was.

______________________________________________________________

My preferred choice so far is Ilia. She matches all the criteria I've set up earlier. First of all, she is a former antagonist. Second, she matches well with lesson of Summer Maiden. As an antagonist, she was member of more radical version of White Fang that was no longer about Faunus equality and more about their supremacy. This "us versus them" mentality symbolically parallels Old Wizard refusing to leave his house, closed off from everybody else.

Summer Maiden lesson can also be manifested in another way. If you think about it, it's almost inevitable White Fang will appear in Vacuo to assist the good guys. And who else will be there? Ace Ops. Ilia will be forced to work side by side with people who represent abuse she suffered as a child. This could create interesting dynamic of Ilia and White Fang refusing to cooperate with them, creating an issue for good guys cause (in fact you can have entire Volume 10 be about previously opposed sides coming to terms with each other for the greater good considering you'll have Ace Ops, Happy Huntresses, White Fang and potentially even Branwen tribe all working together). Her character arc would be about letting go of her hatred and trauma and opening herself to the world, fulfilling the Summer Maiden lesson.

Of course, Ilia is also personally connected to Blake. Yeah, she is "just" her friend, but when you think about it, that's the most personal relationship Blake has outside of her team. Unlike her other team members, she doesn't have a sister, her mother is too old to inherit the power and her nemesis was not only male... he is busy being dead. Ilia becoming a Maiden would also diversify the roster by giving us Faunus Maiden. After all, if all kingdoms are coming together why not also have that symbolically reflected in Maiden roster.

_____________________________________________________________

What are your thoughts? Do you have any other Maiden candidate you think is more likely? If you do, feel free to comment it.

[slipknotfallon]

I had to write a thriller short story for English, could you guys tell me if it's good or not? Tysmm <33

Cold. All I felt was cold. I have been held captive in this dark basement ever since the 24th of December. I have no idea what hour or day it is now, but I don't care anymore, I don't think I ever did in the first place. I remember the day I went missing; it was during a meet and greet with Santa at the Riverside Mall, I'll never forget it. 

I remember waiting in line, watching all the boys and girls in front of me sit on the stout man's lap and whisper what they wanted underneath the tree. I wished what the average 9 year old would, a new Cabbage Patch Kids doll to complete the collection I had at home. I was about 30 feet away from the king of Christmas himself when suddenly I felt my arm being aggressively yanked and my body being dragged to a nearby storage closet. I didn't have enough time to react, considering I tend to faint when being snuck up on, I remember mom telling me it was something called Vasovagal Syncope. 

Because of the sudden scare, I felt my body become numb as I felt my conciseness slip. Oh, how I wish mom hadn't gone to the bathroom a few minutes prior to be there with me. And when I awoke, all I felt was the cold air chilling my skin to the point of goosebumps. I don't remember what all has happened since then, I don't remember much of anything anymore, all I remember is my mother’s face, and I'm starting to forget what that even looks like. But I do remember one thing, no one coming down the broken stairs to feed me, no one giving me anything to go to the bathroom in, just nothing. I'm surprised at how long I've survived down here; I've just spent my days talking with the rats in the walls or using a broken pipe to carve tic tac toe on the walls. 

But suddenly I heard a knock, it sounded like a door! But it's not the door lying at the top of the steps, it's something on the outside. I stare at the door, paint chipping from its broken frame, and I... hear something. It's like footprints on a wooden floor, and then there's a loud scream, it sounds like a man, "What the heck are you doing in my house?! You need a warrant to be here!". I listen in, still standing in the middle of the dark basement. "Where is she?!" another man shouts, then there's commotion and... glass breaking. The men must be fighting and knocking things down. "Could one of those men be my captor?" I ask myself as I back against the wall in fear. The footsteps become clearer, louder, and suddenly the door is kicked open! 

There's a policeman standing at the top of the steps, his flashlight shaking in his hand as he pulls his walkie talkie out of his belt. The poor man looks like he's seen a ghost, am I that hard to look at? "Finally, thank you so much, sir! I can finally go back to my mama!" I exclaim, running towards the man with open arms. As my arms attempt close around him, I realize something, my arms went right through him... My body falls forward, landing behind the man, which causes me to hit the ground with a thud. “What was that?” I ponder to myself. As I turn around to face the man, I see him staring at something. I walk beside him and gaze down at what his eyes are fixated on. I watch in horror as the man clicks a button on his walkie talkie and says, "Chief, we've got a body down here, it seems to have been rotting for years now. It looks horrible, we'll have to DNA test it." 

Do NOT be afraid to criticize anything, I want all the advice I can get to improve my writing journey! :)

[exozero]

I've been dating since the breakup, more than a month now, and after a lovely night always end up thanking them for the company before sending them home. At first I thought I was hung up, which, emotionally, I'm sure there are patterns (now absent) I'm still reeling from, but while I'm not 100% recovered from the split, particularly from her self-destruction, those awful nights, I don't find myself pining.

Comfort is lovely, and I need it. Sometimes I go home with a girl to find the same predictable roles being asked of me, ones I enjoy, but am too fatigued, now, to properly relish, properly revel in the exercising of. Power isn't something I have interest in right now. Even when it was it was about the giving, or denial (same thing) of pleasure, and more complex dynamics, hierarchies, were a sort of higher level, extensions of those base (&base) tenets.

Now... I don't know. Women I once would have torn my hair out about, ached over in secret from just a glance, found ways to flirt and laugh with – they keep fucking approaching me, every single time I go out. I smell horrible, I dress worse, last night I realized the last water I'd had was in a bar & two days prior. I was followed to a cafe to the park from the thrift store yesterday by a woman in her 30s, dirty blonde with a scratchy voice and thick, strong thighs which glowed golden under a carpet of light freckles. I've always had a sharp radar for the tastes of others, but not anymore, or at least not always, now. We had a laugh and a chat and I wondered if she might want me the same way I wanted to be wanted, but after she pulled her phone out, hinting, hunting, and I said she should follow me, her little glance upwards, a quick intake and nod, a small pleasure at receiving an order from me forced me to sigh. I didn't mean to, and she surely didn't understand anything but the disappointment, on some level, but she is used to being wanted, so carried on, and texted me, and I her, but thankfully we stopped, letting it peter out.

I invited her anyways to what I said I would, happy to have a new friend, but that's not what she wants from me. Can't blame her for that, but it's something I've been coming up against increasingly often, especially now that I'm single. Though my desire is the same, to be friends, theirs is not. They want one thing from me, a tired story for all new york, as I resemble a phase, or a hope, or some nonsense I can't be bothered to suss out every fucking time. My only luck may be that the more het a cis woman is, the less interested in me she seems to become.

It's surreal to be eating pussy, truly to be happy doing just that in that moment, and to be interrupted by someone who wants to just get fucked. The whole thing is comical. I tell them that that's what I want, that that's all I want that night, and not one of them believes me. Not that I don't emphasize, I wouldn't accept a woman's offer to solely come over to go down on me if we hadn't already spent nights together, but I just can't be any clearer. I'm on hiatus! Not spanking, slapping, choking, or really fucking at all. At most, and what I ache for, is someone who knows how to call me cute, how to leave me be, how to be persistent, and how to assume about me.

I'm sure I'll return to dominance sooner than later, but there's this gap to be bridged by someone who is willing to play her own role until that's sorted out. Last time I was heartbroken the first person I met happened to be a woman who craved the taste of me, and loved the kinds of attention I'd lavish on her body. We were incredibly drunk when we met, and incredibly open as a result. There was something to my anguish that led her to clasp me to her chest often, lovingly, the gesture held past the "normal span" a hug might, oftentimes developing slowly, through murmurs and kisses and caresses, into a teary lovemaking. I doubt either of us would have any sexual interest in one another ever again, but for those few days, in our mutual states, the freudian dissolved into the human, and the human the universal. We didn't call each other by any names or titles, and the murmurs were unintelligible, just sounds made by lips hesitantly approaching their target... It was comfort, and when I'd cum my head did not arc back but twist aside, her ankles always, somehow always, no matter the position, pressing into my backside, massaging me deeper, pulling me deeper, hands wrapped round me, caressing, cooing.

It reminded me of something.

All the years I'd spent, gently or not, fulfilling those pleasures for others. The reason I still sometimes get messages, years later, soaked in their since-frustrations. It's not that I didn't find pleasure, life, joy in them, but that I was looking after them, the onus on me. With her the onus, finally, was on another. And it's not quite so simple as power. I'd been powerless before her, and we switched hour to hour. Here our psychology blended such that she simply... knew. I was seen through in a way that the rest hadn't. It wasn't love – I'd seen through too many myself to still think that kind of knowledge is worthy of being called Love – but it was the power of a glance, of eye contact held without bravado, even if I'd held her down and bit and bruised her, the unsurprised glint in her eyes would never change. Finally I understood why those women whom I adored staring at could so rarely meet my eyes for more than a moment without a silent request for... something. My hips met hers desperately, brutally, and even as she writhed and moaned and came around me that glint never left her eyes, and as I pushed, panting as I reached my finale, I quailed under her gaze.

[baubeautyandthegeek]

They gave you life//And in return you gave them hell – Rose The Hat/Wendy Torrance

A/N: Fic 3/30 for my Summer 5x5 @julybreakbingo card with Alts.

Five Times They Didn’t Make It To The Bedroom:      The Reception Desk:      Wendy’s been cleaning the reception desk whilst she waits for Rose to come to her, passion comes over them both, of course. Too long apart and Wendy’s been worried, Rose has merely been longing for the woman she loves.     Clothing is ripped, torn away and Wendy’s legs fall open easily as Rose lifts her to the counter of the reception desk, her grip tight on both Rose’s hair and the desk, the woman’s quick and fierce pace dragging whines and moans from her in moments. It’s easy, so easy, to let herself go. So she does.         The Wall:    Rose has barely made it into the hotel before Wendy comes into her arms, pulling her closer even as Rose presses her to the wall. Rose has been hungry, Wendy knows that and it’s so so easy to let Rose have her way, the woman is nothing if not passionate and careful at the same time. It’s a new way for both of them, Rose’s fingers seem to never stop moving and Wendy barely avoids smashing her head into the wall, Rose’s quick hand behind her head holding her close, letting her mark the woman in return even as passion flows.       The Floor:    They get close, so close to the bed, Wendy trips over her own feet, Rose’s desperate attempt to catch her ending with both of them entangled on the floor, laughter turning to kisses then desperate, wanting, grinding against one another. The hotel is never busy and neither of them know much shame anymore.       The Elevator:    They are trying to behave. Wait to get to the room, then, when Rose feels Wendy’s hand slip into hers, it’s over. Their bodies collide with the wall hard enough to make a thumping sound echo into the elevator, buried under soft whines and moans that Rose draws from Wendy as easy as breathing. Passion is always easy for them, even now.     The Bedroom Door:    They almost make it, almost, to the bed. Rose pins Wendy to the door where she’d been locking it, firm fingers curling to her even as she finds the woman’s ear, her smirk soft as she feels Wendy buck.    “You are so fucking wet baby....”    “Mmm, must be the person I’m with...”    Wendy’s reply is softly husky, the space between them closing even as they sink into one another, Wendy’s soft, wanton moans soon giving way to louder, more desperate whimpering, begging for a release she’s been aching for since Rose came home.       + 1 Time They Made It To The Bed:      The Bed:    Wendy’s been quietly withdrawn for a few days, her eyes quietly swimming with barely hidden emotions and, when she does finally let it all go, it’s Rose she turns to, burrowing herself into the other woman’s embrace.    It starts so simply, Rose stroking her hair, whispering softly loving reassurances that she’s there, she won’t leave, passion burning slowly until Wendy whispers a few broken words.    “Make me forget? Just for a while...”    So she does, she takes her time, stripping them both down, pulling Wendy into her so closely they might as well be one person, her lips finding Wendy’s ear even as she moves over her.    “Mine, now, my pretty girl.”    Passion might be theirs, but so is love and she proves it, time and again, drawing release after release from Wendy until she’s sure Wendy’s mind is clearer, her smile soft as she presses a kiss to Wendy’s hairline, then shoulder.    “Good girl, you rest for me.”

[anadorablack]

Happy Pride everyone!

I wish a very Happy Pride to everyone, be they 'letters', allies, or people who don't know which letter they belong to yet. <3

Today, I wanted to share a bit of my story with all of you.

I'm 32. I figured out I wasn't straight at 28. I figured out I was genderfluid at 29. I figured out which 'letter' fit me best at 30.

If you're interested at all in my journey, carry on reading. If not, still appreciate you. <3

I'm a citizen of the second country in the world to legalise same-sex marriage. Belgium. And yet, in that country, being something other than L or G is often considered to be 'a trend', a 'phase', a 'kid thing'.

I grew up with open-minded parents. My mother was never shy when it came to explaining sexuality to me, but I always felt...uneasy when she did so.

The Talk embarrassed me, probably in the same way that every teenager is embarrassed, but it was more than that.

I'd never been interested in dating. At all. Kissing, to me, was gross. Seeing not only my parents kissing, but anyone in general, was gross. I had several friends ask me why I was looking away when they were kissing their partners. The answer was always that it made me uncomfortable. To this day, intimate or sex scenes on the screen make me want to avert my eyes.

I never wanted to date anyone. But peer pressure. Bullying, because at the ripe age of 17, I was still single. Other girls in my school insisting that I wasn't pretty enough or interesting enough to 'pull a guy'. For the longest time, it hadn't mattered. But at 17, I wasn't in a good place, at all.

I succumbed to peer pressure, as they'd say. I agreed to go on a date with a guy from my Ancient Greek class, a friend, actually. And at the end of that date, he kissed me. No, not really kissed me as in stole a kiss. I hadn't shown interest in that, but he still did it.

In retrospect, I don't think ill of him for that. He liked me, he wanted to kiss me, he did.

And I...thought I had to let it happen. Because everyone else found it nice, apparently, so why didn't I?

I dated him for a couple of months. Let him kiss me, even though it grossed me out, made me feel dirty. And those feelings made me feel abnormal.

WHY didn't I enjoy it???

Why wasn't I like everyone else???

Thankfully, it didn't go further, I graduated high school, we went our merry way.

At 24, I moved to another country, to my DREAM country, but found myself away from my family for the first time. I felt alone, isolated, unsafe.

I tried to find connection where I could.

I thought getting into a relationship with my flatmate was a good idea.

It wasn't.

And...

24 and still a virgin, not normal, right?

Peer pressure, again.

I lost my virginity at 25, and I HATED it. Again, many people do, but again, I felt like it wasn't normal. At all.

Sex was supposed to be enjoyable, why didn't I enjoy it?

Months passed, and I started developing feelings for my bf. And that's when things shifted.

Until he broke up with me because I wasn't 'creative' enough in bed, which, thanks, trauma for life now.

I came home to my family, I got a job I loved, I moved into a house I adore. And I started watching Sense8.

It must seem a bit stupid, but that show made things clearer to me. L, G, B and P were the only letters I truly knew about before watching that masterpiece. But Nomi was a T. And so, I started reading about all the other letters.

And it made things so much clearer.

I wasn't straight.

There wasn't anything wrong with me, I just WASN'T STRAIGHT.

I came out as non-hetero to my parents, who read stuff with me to try and find out which letter I fit. Funnily enough, my mum realised she wasn't straight either thanks to our research.

It took a lot of reading, a lot of searching, a lot of questioning, but then, I found THE letter.

Q.

Because although I'm almost demisexual, almost asexual, I'm not fully there. I can feel wildly attracted to people I don't know, but the idea of getting physical with them gives me the ick.

So, I'm Queer. That's who I am.

And during my run as a teacher, I made sure my pupils knew I was a safe place to go to if they were questioning themselves to.

I was the only teacher to accept it when one of my students came out as transgender to me. I called him by his chosen name for the rest of the schoolyear while my colleagues dead-named and misgendered him; and in June, he came to me and hugged me, thanking me for being his safe place.

The following year, I had his little brother in class, and he was proud to tell me he had a brother, now. <3

I never felt happier.

I'm Queer. I'm proud to be.

And having figured it out 'late' in life, it makes it even more important to me to see characters my own age go through a similar journey in the media I consume.

If and only if the writers in the room don't fuck it up by sexualising said journey to appeal to a certain population.

I'm Queer.

Happy Pride. <3