#to the point where I hesitate to call myself a fan

[daintyduck99]

Shuffle your favourite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. Then copy/paste this ask to your favourite mutuals <3 (ps if there's not at least 2 Swift songs in there I will be shocked)

❤️ I shuffled my On Repeat Playlist (I don't really have a singular favorite) and only got one Taylor Swift song somehow 😆 Fitting that it's shaping up to be my favorite from her latest album though. I do have two Olivia songs for you, however 😌

1. My Favorite Mistake - Sheryl Crow

2. obsessed - Olivia Rodrigo

3. Song About You - The Band CAMINO

4. Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - Taylor Swift

5. girl i've always been - Olivia Rodrigo

[koiiiji]

lookism x reader. between takes

summary ; lookism actually is a series, and all guys are just actors, same as you, so you happen to meet with them backstage.

starring ; seongji, jungoo, jongun, gimyong

SEONGJI x demon!reader

the bustling film set was alive with energy. you were taking a break from your role, when you spotted Seongji Yook across the lot. his team was filming scenes for “lookism,” in the mountains of cheongliang too. you couldn't help but smile at the sight of your friend. Seongji noticed you and waved, making his way over with a grin. “nice horns. going for a new look?”

you laughed, adjusting your tail. “just trying something different. how’s the day going on your end?” he shrugged, glancing at his hands and feet. “i feel kinda weird with this,” he said, gesturing to the fake extra finger on each hand and foot.

“really?” you asked ironically, pointing at your demoniacal makeup, horns on your forehead and the tail behind you. “i think we’re both quite the spectacle here”

as you both found a quiet spot to sit, the conversation flowed easily. you talked about your roles, shared behind-the-scenes stories, and teased each other about your costumes.

“you make a pretty convincing demon,” Seongji said, his tone teasing yet sincere. “i’d say you’re stealing the show.”

“thanks, but i think you’re the real star,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “i saw you on set, your scenes have been incredible, your appearance in “lookism” will blow the whole show.”

there was a comfortable silence, the kind only shared between good friends. yet beneath it, there was an unspoken tension, that nobody dared to speak about. Seongji leaned back, watching the crew set up for the next scene. “you know, i’ve always admired how dedicated you are to your roles.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words feeling more personal than casual. “thank you, Seongji, i really appreciate it!”

and before you knew it, the break was over, and you both had to return to your sets. as you stood, Seongji hesitated for a moment. “hey, maybe we could grab dinner after filming wraps up?”

the invitation hung in the air, filled with possibilities. “i’d like that,” you replied, trying to contain your excitement.

with a shared smile, you parted ways, the encounter leaving you with a sense of anticipation.

JUNGOO x pirate!reader

cozy coffee shop was bustling with the morning crowd. you felt a bit out of place in your full pirate costume — with oversized shirt, high knee boots and tight corset, complete with a big hat adorned with feathers and all small accessories everywhere. your team took a break from filming, you all needed a caffeine boost. as you waited for your order, the door chimed, and in walked Jungoo Kim. you heard that his team filming “lookism” somewhere near your location. his costume torn in some spots and covered in fake blood, his skin in bruises from a fight scene and hair is messy. despite his rough appearance, he carried himself with his usual charismatic confidence.

your eyes met briefly, and you both did a double take. you recognized him instantly — you kinda were his fan, he is an actor you secretly admired and respected.

he recognized you as well, approaching with a playful grin, trying to play it cool. “ahoy there, captain,” he called out with a playful grin as he sauntered over. “looking for treasure, or have you already stolen it with that outfit?”

you laughed, tipping your hat. “just trying to keep myself and the crew in line.” you smiled, waving your head to the side where your set colleagues were sitting, feeling your cheeks warm. “and what about you, mister criminal? fighting off enemies before breakfast?”

Jungoo smirked, leaning in conspiratorially. “thought i’d see if the rumors were true about a captivating pirate queen causing a stir. seems they were right.”

you leaned back on the counter, smiling conspiratorially at him, playing along with his little performance, “ah, so you're not here by chance, and it's you the one who are looking for treasure here” you smiled teasingly, lifting your chin, the feathers on your hat trembled slightly.

“well, you caught me,” he chuckled, eyes twinkling. “i do have a knack for looking for treasures. maybe i should join your crew — think you could handle the competition?”

“only if you promise not to steal my spotlight,” you bantered back, imagining him in a tricorn hat and boots.

Jungoo leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “i promise to keep the spotlight firmly on you. though, i might steal a dance from the captain.”

the playful exchange left you smiling, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than expected.

“i have to admit, i’ve been a fan of your work for a while,” he confessed, suddenly trying to sound nonchalant. “your performances are always captivating.”

surprised and flattered, you replied, “really? i’ve been following your career too. your fight scenes with sword are legendary.”

but as the director burst into the cafe and barked at everyone, urging them to return to set to start filming, Jungoo offered you a wink. “break a leg, captain. i’ll be here to catch you if you fall.”

with a wave, you returned to your role, feeling a bit more buoyant from the encounter.

JONGUN x black swan!reader

film studio was a maze of sets and props, buzzing with activity. you were navigating the corridors, adjusting to the thick black eye lenses you wore for your role as the black swan in upcoming film. they made everything difficult to see, but the effect was stunning on camera.

as you carefully made your way to the break room, you suddenly collided with someone. the impact, unexpected and strong, caused you to lose your balance and fall.

“whoa!” a deep voice exclaimed. you found yourself looking up at Park Jongun, who was also wearing the same intense black lenses for his role on the neighbor set.

“i’m so sorry!” you said, embarrassed as you tried to regain your footing. Jongun quickly helped you up, grabbing your wrist, pulling. you to his broad chesr, a little harder then he should have. his grip steady. “no, it’s my fault. these lenses make it hard to see anything.”

“tell me about it. i’ve been bumping into everything.” you laughed softly, brushing yourself off. he glanced at your costume, noticing the contrast between your delicate ballerina attire and his all bruised and blooded body makeup. “looks like we’re playing quite opposite roles.” he said, finally losing his grip and letting you go.

“yeah,” you admitted, feeling a bit self-conscious. “i had to lose a lot of weight for this role, so i’m not exactly steady on my feet.”

Jongun offered you a charm smile. “you look incredible, though. very convincing as a ballerina.”

“thanks,” you replied, appreciating his kindness. “i’m guessing you’re the tough guy in your film?”

he nodded, a hint of pride and amusement in his voice. “yeah, shiro oni, always ready for few crazy fights. but i promise i’m not as scary in real life.”

as you continued talking, you found Jongun to be easygoing and surprisingly funny. you shared stories about your roles and the challenges of filming with these horrible jet black lenses.

“next time, we should get a guide dog,” he joked, making you laugh.

“or maybe just a cane,” you suggested, enjoying the lighthearted banter.

eventually, it was time to return to your respective sets. “it was nice bumping into you — literally. let’s try to meet again when we can actually see each other.” Jongun smiled dazzlingly again, gently clasping your wrist, and leaving a light, soft kiss your knuckles.

“deal?” he asked with a charm grin, while you stand there smiling shyly, feeling a newfound connection.

“i’d like that,” you replied, feeling grateful for the unexpected encounter. with a wave, you both headed back to work, the meeting leaving you with a smile and the possibility of a new connection.

GIMYONG x targaryen princess!reader

sun was beginning to set over the bustling film set near the sea, casting a warm glow on the neighboring sets of two popular series. one set belonged to the fantasy series where you played a targaryen princess, and the other to the hit show "lookism," where Gimyong had one of the main roles.

he had often glanced toward your set during breaks, intrigued by the regal world of dragons and thrones. he'd heard about y&u from mutual crew members and quietly admired you from afar.

but today, fate seemed to favor him. a scheduling overlap meant both productions were on a break simultaneously. seizing the opportunity, Gimyong wandered over, pretending to be curious about the elaborate set design.

as you stepped outside, still in your flowing, black gown embroidered with red and gold threads, depicting scales, tails and heads of dragons on the sleeves and collar. you saw Gimyong standing nearby, looking somewhat out of place in his black coat. classic black trousers, white shirt and loafers amidst the medieval backdrop.

“hey, aren't you from "lookism?"” you asked, recognizing him from the posters plastered around the studio. he abruptly pulled his hand away from the blue weird machine that soon will be turned into your dragon with computers cgi effects help. he beamed at you, intensively nodding. he was a bit surprised but pleased you knew of him. “yeah, i'm Gimyong. i've been curious about your set for a while. it's got quite the atmosphere.”

you smiled, appreciating his interest. “it's definitely a different world over here. i'm [y/n], by the way.”

“it's nice to finally meet you,”he said, but paused himself for a moment, glancing back at weird blue platform. he noticed once, that your team usually shoot scenes of flying on dragon's back on this thing. brilliant pick up line immediately was born in his head.

“sooo that’s supposed to be your dragon on screen, right?” he grinned, swinging onto the platform from behind, trying to play it cool, but it came out a little awkward, as you can see he is clearly nervous. you giggled softly, but decided to play along, already understanding what he was leading to.

“yes, his name is Vermithor, really huge dragon.” you elegantly covered your mouth with your hand, trying to hide a shameless smile, at Gimyong’s attempt to flirt.

“you know, im kinda dragon myself, being the son of a golden dragon… so how about safe the dragon and ride-” you couldn't let him finish the sentence, bursting into laughter from his pickup line and such a self-confident face. Gimyong was truly humongous man.

in fact, he was not confused or upset by your laughter, because in the end he amused you. his light laugh joined yours and he was happy that he made you laugh.

“no, but seriously, i’ve heard great things about your performance.”

“thank you! it’s been a dream role for me,” you replied warmly, your genuine smile still playing on your lips. “i’ve seen a few episodes of lookism — i absolutely in love with it! your character is such a gentleman.” you exclaimed admiringly, remembering all the scenes where Gimyong was filming with his 'mother', and how cheerful his character was, representing a wonderful leader.

as you talked, the conversation flowed naturally, and Gimyong felt his initial nervousness fading away. he found himself captivated not just by your talent, but by your genuine enthusiasm and kindness.

“maybe you could give me a tour of your set sometime?” Gimyong suggested, hoping to extend the conversation — and his time with you.

“i’d love that,” you replied, intrigued by the idea. “and maybe i could visit yours. i’ve always been curious about how you bring such a cool fightings to life.”

with a shared promise to explore each other’s worlds, Gimyong returned to his set with a newfound excitement. meeting you had been even better than he imagined, and he couldn't wait when you will visit his set, to show off in front of you with his skills and muscles.

[we-were-beautiful]

Marry me

Xaden x Sorrengail!oc

WC: 816

Warnings: None just Fluff

A/N: Well I decided to take part in a small writing Challenge. I had fun writing this little blurb and while it has the potential to turn into its own series; I am going to show self restraint by not doing that. The prompt was "I can never say 'no to you" From Jana over at @creativepromptsforwriting

Also fair warning; I didn't send this to any of my betas. So we die like men at this point

Thank you to @skyfallscotland and @justallihere for putting together the Fourth Wing Birthday Bash

Last but not least tumbr is being dumb and won’t let me post from my laptop so apologies about the formatting

“We should get married” I comment wrapping my arms around my beloved’s shoulders, fingers gently tracing along the scars at the top of his shoulders. I look up into his gold flecked onyx eyes and smile widely at him. Was the flight field after lessons the best place to have this conversation, probably not, but I couldn’t help myself. It had been an interesting lesson with a storm about to roll in; the thunder off in the distance rolling. But now with the rest of the third years and Professor Kaori heading back to the citadel, I figured given Xaden a small heart attack would be fun.

Where I would expect to see shock and hesitance on his face I only see a fond smile as he wraps his arms around my waist to pull me into his chest.

“When do you want to get married and how do you want to tell your mother and sisters?” I hadn’t thought of that.

It would be pretty easy to tell Violet. If I could get her away from her squad it would be as simple as that. Mira I could just write a letter too. Shed be pissed at first; she had specifically told me to stay away from Xaden. That didn’t work out since we ended up in the same squad with mated dragons; but Mira could get over it. She’d be happy for me eventually.

My mother; however, I completely forgot about. General Sorrengail hadn’t been a fan of the relationship and she had made it known to me once the word had made it to her office. That had been the only time I had formally gotten called to her office to make her displeasure known; but its been three years. Xaden and I work well together and we have been in love with each other for awhile now. Not to mention we are kinda stuck with each other until one of us dies so at one point or another she’s just going to have to learn to live with it.

I feel Tairn’s amusement in the back of my mind. The old curmudgeon had been riding my ass this last week about acting like a love sick puppy around Xaden. Like his grumpy ass isn’t the exact same way around Sgaeyl.

‘I heard that’ the rumbling voice flows through my head.

‘You were supposed to.’ I felt Tairn’s snout push at my back sending me further into Xaden’ s grasp ‘Tairn!!!’ I can hear Sgaeyl chuckle in my head.

‘I think I shall go get some sheep’ I’m not sure if it is the mighty beat of our dragons wings or thunder, but as the two dragons fly off the heavens open up above us and cold rain begins to pour down. Xaden lets out a hearty laugh squeezing me tightly.

“When do you want to get married love.” He leans down to whisper in my ear repeating his earlier question.

“Want to grab Garrick, Bodhi, Liam and Vi and sneak down to Chantara.” I would do it; grab our family and secretly get married today if he agreed.

“How about we wait until graduation. We can get our family together, before we fly to our post, and have a small ceremony.” He pushes a soaked strand of hair away from my face. “Then it gives you time to let Mira know, so she can try and get leave” leave it to this perfect man to remember that I wanted Mira there when I got married. While Brennen had Mom and Violet had Dad it had been Mira and I against the world. I still had all of the letters we had wrote to each other while she was in the quadrant and then when I started second year. She had to be there on our special day; she would kill me if I ran off today and got married.

“Ok Graduation it is then.” He looks even more breathtaking in the rain as water droplets roll down his skin.

“Alright then lets go Mrs.Riorson.” He lets go of me and moves towards the hidden tunnel entrance.

“Wait.” I call grabbing his hand to stop him. “Kiss me?” Is it cheesy and straight out of the romance books that I brought into the quadrant, yes. But I had always wanted to be kissed in the rain.

“Have I ever been able to say ‘no’ to you.” He gently cradles my face in his hands tilting my face upwards; his lips crash into mine is a passionate kiss. It starts out innocent enough but my hands quickly find their way to his hair and one of his finds its way to my ass. When we break apart we are gasping for breath; Xaden rest his forehead against mine and hazel eyes meet onyx “Marry me?”

“Yes.” I laugh and pull him into another kiss.

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: fighting. lots of fighting. wounds. mentions of pain. flashbacks. 'alluding' to prostitution.

#NOTES: i actually feel so weird for this chapter because not much happens (in a sense), but i can't stress enough how much i want you to feel the mc as an actual character instead of this just being a romance story, and i'm establishing this not only for you but also for myself! you will need to read the mc's character arcs and individual chapters, even if they're long or you might think are unnecessary. if you don't read them, you're going to miss out on crucial points of the story! character arcs for your mcs are essential! even when they're just y/n! y/n is still a character, and they need a good backstory and moments to flesh them out thoroughly. fanfiction should be made with as much love and care as a 'real' book would need to be. with my usual rant issued, enjoy <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You remembered setting down the tiny bundle of belongings you carried, the meager possessions you owned neatly placed on the edge of your new berth, and your new pickaxe and hammer drill. You were still deciding where to put your things when the voice of who would be your new berthroom companion caught you off guard, breaking the silence like a sudden gust of wind.

“You can come out, my love. All is well.”

You had quizzingly looked at her after the words left her mouth, but you grew even more confused when you realized she was not looking your way. Instead, she was looking at the small locker at the end of her berth.

There was a hesitant creak, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. A small servo gripped the edge of the locker’s door, trembling slightly, and then a tiny figure peeked out—a sparkling, her frame barely more than a fragile outline against the dim light. She was almost painfully small, her light turquoise plating catching the faint glow in the room. 

“Come here, my light,” Starlight called out gently, extending a servo in a welcoming gesture as she sat at the edge of her berth.

The sparkling hesitated, her optics flicking nervously between you and her carrier. Her whole frame trembled with uncertainty.

You tried to make yourself look smaller, less imposing, feeling your spark crumple and crush with sympathy and curiosity at the existence of such innocence in this hellhole. So many questions and doubts ran through your processor at a speed that even the most talented racers would be jealous of.

Then, with a deep vent that sounded almost like a sigh, the sparkling took a cautious step toward her carrier. And another. And another. Until she was close enough to be scooped up into her arms.

“There you are,” She said with a tender smile, gathering the sparkling to her chest as if she were the most precious thing in the universe. The little one buried her face against her mother's chassis, and you could hear the faint whirr of her tiny cooling fans as she snuggled close, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace. Her servo moved slowly up and down the sparkling’s back. “I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetie. You’re very brave, are you not?”

Suddenly, she looked at you.

“I’m glad they sent another femme, I wasn’t about to take chances with someone who wouldn’t understand what it’s like.” She said. Although her voice was steady and unembellished, an undercurrent of intensity ran through it—tender and fiercely protective, issuing a warning. You could sense that this caution wasn’t aimed at you, but rather at some shadowy threat that lingered just beyond reach. “If they’d sent a mech, I would have thrown him out myself.”

You blinked, taken aback by her straightforwardness. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression open and unthreatening. Your voice was a little hesitant, unsure of how to respond to her. “I... I’m glad I’m here too.”

“Good,” she said, a half smile on her lip components, her gaze not wavering. “Then we’ll get along just fine. I’m Starlight, this is Vaportrail... she’s my everything. And I won’t let anything—or anyone—hurt her.”

Her tone now had no softness, only a hard-edged determination that made your spark tighten. This wasn’t a carrier who would let her guard down easily, not for anyone, and certainly not for someone she didn’t trust. But there was a flicker of relief in her optics, a softening around the edges as if admitting that your presence didn’t feel like a threat was a victory all on its own.

Which, in a way, made you very sad.

You opened your dermas, unsure of what to say, but Starlight cut you off with a small smile, her laughing, purple optics seizing you. “Don’t take it personally. I’m just... careful. They don’t make it easy for femmes like us. Especially not for carriers. I’m not about to apologize for doing what I must to keep her safe.”

You nodded quickly. “I—I understand. I don’t want to intrude. I just... I didn’t realize you had a little one here.”

“No, it’s fine,” Starlight said, waving a servo dismissively but not loosening her hold on Vaportrail. “You’re here now, and that’s that. They didn’t exactly ask my opinion before sending you, but... you seem alright.” Her optics scanned you up and down like she was weighing you, judging if you were genuinely trustworthy. Whatever she saw, it made her relax a fraction. “We’ll see how it goes.”

There was a silence that felt heavier than it should, and Vaportrail shifted a little, peeking out from the safety of her carrier’s hold. Her optics were still wide and oscillating, but there was a flicker now, like the spark of a tinderbox, and you managed a tentative smile. It felt awkward and unsure, but it seemed the right move because Vaportrail didn’t look away.

Starlight’s expression softened again, just a little, as she glanced down at her daughter. She leaned in and murmured, “This is…” She looked back up at you precipitously, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

You told her your new designation, the new number of the H branch in Mining Outpost R–02. You’d need to get used to it, but it would be easy enough. The overseer of your branch had already taken to refer to you as simply ‘8’.

Starlight almost grimaced at your words but soon looked down at the sparkling. “This is H-08. She’s going to stay with us for a while.”

The sparkling didn’t respond, but she didn’t hide either, and you took that as a small victory.

Starlight turned her optics towards you, revealing the complexities within her gaze—gentleness intertwined with determination, a fierce sense of protection that nearly felt rebellious. Above all, you noticed a tentative hope. It was delicate, nearly fragile, resembling something seldom relied upon and sustained by pure resolve. It felt like she was challenging you, silently urging you to either validate her doubts or, maybe, to offer her a reason to believe.

“Just make yourself comfortable,” she said with a half-smirk. “But don’t go thinking you’re a guest. You’re part of this now. And if you’ll be here, you’ll do your part to keep her safe, too.”

You nodded, meeting her gaze with all the sincerity you could muster.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll do my best.”

You didn’t expect to follow Bluey’s advice that well.

Although you still felt anxious, there was one important lesson he ensured you understood, which was the primary reason you were managing to perform mediocrely well in the current match. Five simple words, but ones he made sure to drill into you, even at the cost of hearing him utter the sentence in your dreams.

“Always keep your head cool.”

The arena bore the scars of your prolonged clash—scorched craters, gouges in the walls, and the acrid tang of overheated metal. Across the battered expanse, your opponent circled behind a wall of waste metal. He was tall and bulky, his frame a juggernaut that had already tested your limits more than once. 

A younger you might have faltered by now, let exhaustion or his relentless power shake your resolve. But this wasn’t then. You adjusted your stance, steadying your frame and keeping Bluey’s advice sharp in your processor. This wasn’t over yet.

“Let them think they’ve got the upper hand, then take it from them in one clean swoop.”

Your opponent grinned, baring sharp teeth, his optics gleaming with something dark and eager. He lunged toward you, hurling a heavy swing of his greatsword, too fast and keen for a clean kill.

Good. You could work with that.

You ducked low, slipping just out of reach. He lunged forward, his momentum betraying him as he faltered, thrown off balance for a fleeting moment. The crowd's uproar filled the air, their cheers rising in a mighty wave, drowning out all other sounds. Bright flashes of light erupted around you, glinting off your polished armor and that of your opponent, creating a dazzling display that danced in the periphery of your vision.

“Most mechs here don’t think before they swing. Let them come to you. Half the fight is watching them trip over themselves. They’ll do half the work if you let them.”

You let him close in again, his optics narrowing as he swung, aiming for your helm this time. A broad swing of his arm—you had seen it a dozen times in practice with Bluey by now. You sidestepped and his fist cut through space, too slow to catch you. The warhammer in your grasp seemed to flow into your movements, and you did not even feel its heaviness.

He cursed, stumbling again, his frustration evident as he recovered, his vents heaving. Bluey was right; your opponent wasn’t thinking, only reacting. And now, with him unbalanced, it was time to make your move.

"Think quick, strike quicker. You don’t need to go for a kill shot in friendly matches. Just hit them where it hurts.”

So you did. Darting forward, you aimed low with your weapon, catching him squarely in the side with a swift, well-placed jab to his knee joint. The impact reverberated through your frame, his armor giving way just enough for you to feel the shock of metal against metal. He staggered, his vents hissing in pain, and you took advantage of his faltering balance, pressing forward with another strike to his leg.

His frame buckled, his weight crashing to one knee as he tried and failed to push himself back up. His optics flared with rage as he swiped at you again, desperation taking over, but you were already out of reach, watching his movements with a clear, unclouded gaze.

"A calm mind’s your greatest weapon. Most fights end the second your opponent loses his cool. Hold onto yours, and you’ll outlast them every time.”

You watched as your opponent struggled, rage overtaking his features as he realized his momentum had failed him. He staggered back, clutching his damaged leg, his optics wild, searching for some way to turn the tide. But you were already moving, closing in before he could react. A quick swipe to his shoulder joint sent him stumbling back again, a desperate growl tearing from his vocalizer as his arm dropped, sparking where the wiring had split.

The crowd’s roars escalated, but for once, the noise didn’t faze you. You kept your focus on him, your field of vision narrowing down to this one mech and his dwindling options.

“A hit’s only as strong as the bot that lands it. Don’t go for flashy moves if a simple strike will do the job.”

So you didn’t. You kept it simple and calculated, landing a swift, final blow to his remaining arm joint. His frame shuddered, forced down by the impact as he slumped forward, defeated but still functional, vents whirring unevenly as he struggled to catch his breath.

You took a step back, exhaling as you held your stance, ready to react to any last-ditch effort he might make. But there was nothing—no fight left in him, just the slow, begrudging slump of a mech who knew he’d been bested.

Another one. You’d done it! Shifting your helm toward the other side of the arena, you glimpsed the opening that connected the arena to the Gladiators’ lobby, and you swore that behind the bars, you could see a pair of familiar ochre-pigmented optics looking at you.

Bluey was there too, flashing a cheerful, childish thumbs-up as a wide grin spread across his face. He mimicked a series of playful punches aimed at the air, then broke into applause, cheering you on with boundless enthusiasm. You did not mind it. It actually made you smile.

Just as you turned toward the exit, you were so close to doing so as you began taking the first step; a pair of guards came to haul the mech onto a stretcher, and one of them harshly gripped your shoulder, evoking a grunt from your voicebox.

“You’re not done.”

You wrenched yourself free from his hold but stared at him confusedly, “We were the last ones on the list for today.”

“Not anymore.” The other answered for his partner, staring intensely at you despite his visor. “There’s been a last-minute change for your matches.”

‘Bullway.’ You looked away with irritation in your features (never directed at them), which was answer enough for the pair of guards. They began carrying the wounded gladiator away, fighting the urge to stifle their laughs while the mech deliriously quaked about his pain.

With a languid motion, you allowed your shoulders to roll back, reclaiming your position at the heart of the arena. To entertain the multitude of cybertronians around you, you threw your arms wide above your helm, sending a ripple of exhilaration through the crowd, igniting a cacophony of cheers and shouts.

You gazed at them in mild, calculated satisfaction. In some manner, the audience determined the level of excitement in the fight, and you felt a sense of relief knowing it would be exceptionally some time before you started boring them, even if you felt disgusted by their entertainment.

Suddenly, the other gate opened.

He emerged from the shadows. You’d seen him before, though only in passing. You hadn’t paid much attention to him then; now, it was impossible to look away.

His frame was massive, and his armor was scarred from dozens of battles. The faint glow of his optics burned like embers, and the sharpness of his gaze cut through the haze of dust and noise that filled the arena. His steps were heavy and measured, the kind of stride that wasn’t rushed because it didn’t need to be.

He stopped in the center of the pit, his helm tilting slightly as his optics locked onto you.

“So,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, carrying easily over the noise. “This is what they’ve got for me today?”

You tightened your grip on your warhammer, your digits aching. He was assessing you. You could feel it—a predatory gaze that lingered just long enough for you to start overthinking. Still, you said nothing. Words were a distraction. Both Bluey and Megatronus made points about that.

He seemed to take your silence as an insult. His mouth pulled into a sharp grin that didn’t reach his optics.

“They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t they?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, each word sharp as a dagger. “Sending me, Celsius, some nobody.”

Your helmet shifted slightly, and the question slipped from your dermas before you could rein in your need to make him angry. “Who?”

In an instant, the atmosphere around him transformed dramatically, thickening with an almost electric tension. It surged through him, coiling like a tightly wound spring just moments before it snapped, tight and expectant. The playful mockery that had once danced mischievously in his optics was snuffed out, leaving behind an unsettling void. In its place, a chilling darkness crept in, settling heavily over his features, distorting the lines of his face.

“‘Who?’” he repeated, his voice dropping to a growl. “You don’t know who I am?”

You stared at him, unflinching. “No.”

The crowd caught wind of the exchange, and a wave of laughter rippled through the stands. His frame stiffened, his optics narrowing as the noise grew louder.

“You’re funny,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t find it amusing. “That’s good. Keep that up—it’ll make this more entertaining.”

Without warning, he lunged.

For a mech his size, he moved with startling speed, closing the distance between you in a handful of strides. His fist came down like a hammer, a strike meant to pulverize. You twisted away just in time, his blow slamming into the ground with a force that sent tremors up through your stabilizers.

You darted back, your hammer raised defensively as you sized him up.

He was fast, yes, but his movements were heavy, over-committed. He fought like someone who had never needed to think about his strength—who had always relied on brute force to overpower his opponents.

“Stay still!” he barked, his voice sharp with irritation as he swung again, the arc of his arm slicing through the air.

You ducked, letting his momentum carry him past you.

“You’re wasting energy,” you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

His growl was low and guttural, and when he turned back to you, his optics blazed with rage.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, I heard,” he said, his vents heaving. “Let’s see how smart it is when I’m done with you.”

He lunged at you once more, his movements becoming increasingly wild and unrestrained, each swing of his fists wide and erratic. You sidestepped, remembering the footwork Bluey had practically made you memorize. Your opponent wasn’t relying on his tactical knowledge; instead, he was fueled by a burning sense of pride. That pride, however, was proving to be his greatest weakness, as it blinded him to the precision and finesse with which you fought.

“Who trained you?” he sneered, his words cutting through the air like shrapnel. “Or did they just toss you in here to die?”

You didn’t answer. There was no point. Instead, you waited, watching for the next opening.

It came sooner than you expected.

He swung wide again, his arm sweeping out in a broad arc that left his side exposed. You stepped in, driving your hammer into the joint of his leg. The impact sent a jolt up your arms, and his armor buckled under the force. He staggered, a snarl tearing from his vocalizer as he struggled to stay upright.

“You’ll regret that,” he spat, his optics wild with fury.

Once again, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to.

He lunged again, his movements growing sloppier with each passing moment. His rage was blinding him, clouding his judgment. He was making mistakes, and you were ready to exploit them.

You darted around him, landing a blow on his shoulder joint. He cursed, the sound raw and guttural, as his arm dropped, sparking at the connection. His frame trembled with the effort of staying upright, his vents rattling like loose machinery.

“Fight me!” he roared, his voice cracking in frustration. “Stop running and fight me!”

You held your ground, your optics steady as you watched him. “I don’t need to fight you,” you said, your tone calm, almost detached. “You’re beating yourself.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. He froze, his optics wide with disbelief, before the rage returned in full force. He charged blindly, his movements a chaotic blur of desperation and fury.

You stepped aside, his momentum carrying him past you. Then, with one final swing, you brought your hammer down on his remaining shoulder joint.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his frame buckling under the weight of his arrogance. He lay there, his vents sputtering, his optics dimming as he struggled to lift himself.

You stood over him, your stance steady, your frame casting a shadow over his.

He looked up at you, his optics burning with hatred and humiliation.

“Who,” you said, your voice low, broken by your tired breaths between syllables, “are you supposed to be again?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, like a thunderclap, the crowd erupted. Their cheers and jeers mingled in a cacophony that reverberated through the arena walls, their voices rising in a frenzy. Some shouted your name; others hurled insults at the fallen gladiator. The noise was deafening, but you let it wash over you, standing tall as their energy rippled through the air.

Their way of letting you know: That was an excellent match.

You allowed yourself a glance upward toward the tiered stands. The Overseers’ box loomed above, a dark shape crowded with figures seated in detached luxury. A few of them nodded, the faintest inclinations of approval that barely registered against the clinking of energon cubes and muted laughter from their table.

Most weren’t even watching.

Your optics narrowed as you saw what held their attention. A courier had delivered a tower of tiny energon cubes to their table. One of the bosses reached out, plucking a cube from the precariously stacked pile with the same carelessness as a mech selecting a datapad. Another laughed as the tower wobbled but held its balance.

Your spark twisted violently in your chest.

They weren’t watching. After all the effort, after the pain and adrenaline, the gamble of your life against another’s... you weren’t even worth their attention.

A tower of energon cubes was upstaging you.

A surge of fury swelled in your core, hot and all-consuming. You acted before you could think, your frame moving on instinct alone. With a sharp pull, you wrenched a shoulder plate free from your defeated opponent’s armor, the battered piece of metal groaning as it came loose in your servo.

Then, you hurled the plating across the arena. It sliced through the air, the momentum carrying it in a deadly arc straight toward the Overseers’ box.

The piece struck the energon tower dead-center.

The cubes tumbled spectacularly, scattering across their table and clattering to the floor. Shouts of alarm erupted as some of the bosses scrambled back, some leaping from their seats as the impact sent their delicate drinks and datapads spilling across their laps.

The crowd gasped, the collective intake of air almost louder than their earlier cheers. A shocked silence fell over the pit, stretching taut and electric as every optic turned to you.

For a moment, you simply stood there, your plating heaving as the heat of your anger coursed through you. Then, you inclined the upper part of your frame—just a fraction, the gesture somewhere between mockery and defiance. Your optics locked onto the Overseers as if daring them to look away again.

When you finally turned, you saw that the arena gates had opened at some point, the path to the exit yawning before you. You walked toward it without hesitation, without awaiting dismissal, your pedsteps echoing in the stunned silence that followed you.

Behind you, the crowd erupted louder than before, their voices carrying an amalgamation of shock, awe, and delight. They weren’t just watching now—they were riveted.

An excellent match, indeed.

But as you crossed the threshold into the dim corridors beyond the pit, the noise faded into the distance, and you could feel the weight of the Overseers’ glares pressing against your back. For the first time, you were sure they were paying attention.

Good. Let them.

[seriousbrat]

Why do people like Lily? From what we've seen of her in the books she seems like a charming and good hearted person but also someone who is shallow, judgemental, a social climber, a classist and immature. Why do people make her out to be this feminist, kind hearted role model that is always morally above others and everyone likes her because she is oh so kind and great? It makes me cringe. From the text we can see that she had a black and white thinking, was shallow and probably self righeous, always thinking she's right and not being able to see the perspective of others. (We can see this in her interactions with Snape) So why do people love her? Do people really need a 'girl boss' in every fandom? There always seems to be one that's just made up by the fans. It looks like people just need a character they can point at and say "see we care about female characters, this one is oh so great, she can't do no wrong, worship her please." 🙄

Look, no offence, but... what? 'Shallow, classist, judgmental, social climber' what? Where are you getting this? Because she stopped being friends with a boy who literally called her a slur? Because she criticised that boy for defending and befriending people who were bigoted against people like herself? Like sorry but I think I'm entirely the wrong person to come to with this kind of thing. I fully disagree. I could not disagree more.

Black and white thinking? The opposite. Lily remained friends with someone who espoused the exact opposite of her beliefs for way too long. Not just her beliefs, but her right to exist. She tolerated Snape (and I do love him as a character, but still) way more than she should have, objectively speaking. That's the opposite of black and white. She was way too understanding, way too empathetic with him. She didn't judge Snape hard enough, in my opinion.

Nah, look idk what you were hoping with this ask but I'm sorry, I'm generally a staunch Lily defender and I heavily disagree with what you're saying. It's not that I think she's a perfect person, she certainly has her flaws like anyone. I don't think that she should be idealised, I think she should be given complexity like any character, but neither do I think she's classist (esp since she's meant to be working class) nor particularly judgmental nor shallow nor immature. I love Snape but he was terrible to her. He befriended people who wanted her dead. Lily didn't owe him anything, and her """righteousness""" as you say is not only entirely justified, but objectively speaking she should have dropped that bitch way earlier.

Why do people (including myself) love Lily? Because she was a good person. Because she was brave and decent and kind. She remained friends with Sev for years despite peer pressure and common sense and she defended him without hesitation. She dedicated her life to fighting for what was right. Lily is a good person. She's not inherently, morally above others, she's not perfect but she was a good, kind person, the way her son is a good, kind person.

Not that difficult to understand imo, unless you have way higher standards for male characters than female characters. Not everyone has to like or be interested in Lily but pretending she's somehow worse/less worthy of interest than Snape, James, Sirius, Regulus, etc (and I imagine you've got to be a fan of some of these marauders era characters if you're reading my blog) because she dropped a guy who wanted to join a fascist group that wanted her dead is absolutely ridiculous.

Lily is so kind and great. Her act of bravery and sacrifice is what kickstarts the entire HP series. Sorry. Like absolutely not, I completely disagree with you about Lily's character. People liking a female character doesn't mean that they have a shallow 'girl boss' approach to that character, and I find that a condescending explanation for why people like myself might be fans of Lily Evans. Maybe, and you perhaps should consider this, us fans of Lily just enjoy and are interested in female characters the exact same way we might be interested in male ones.

Look I don't want to be mean, but can't you tell from my icon, which is clearly supposed to be Lily, that I love Lily? Lily is one of my favourite HP characters. I really don't want to be rude but I'm absolutely the last person who'd share this viewpoint.

[oizysian]

IX. PRETENDING TO BE HUMAN

All Eyes on Me masterlist

Word count: 1.8k

•

Two weeks came and went and it was finally the day of the Hattie Harmony book tour in New York City.

I nervously paced in my apartment, my anxiety kicking in full force at the thought of not only being around Lizzie again, this time without Brie, but being around strangers and out of my element.

I took a deep breath and checked my phone again for the hundredth time. It was nearly time for me to leave and I couldn't help but think of all the things that could go wrong.

I unlocked my phone and went to my messages, texting Claire that I was chickening out. My phone rang almost instantly and I hesitated a moment before answering.

"Do not chicken out!"

"I'm freaking out. The first time was okay 'cos I was with Brie, but now I'll be on my own."

"And you'll be fine. I know you don't go out much because of your anxiety, but you need to do this. You'll regret it if you don't go."

"I know, you're right. I'll hate myself if I stay home instead of being there for Lizzie's big day."

"See? Do you wanna let your wife down? No, so get yourself ready and get down to that book tour."

"Okay, mom." I laughed, saying my goodbyes to my best friend and finally getting myself ready to go out.

It took me no more than ten minutes to get ready and call an Uber to take me into the city. I was beyond nervous - hell, I was damn scared, but I had to play it cool. I had to pretend that I was a normal human with no issues going out and functioning around other human beings.

The crowd in front of the bookstore was insane, and I realized most of them were decked out in Scarlet Witch gear. I smiled to myself, hanging back as everyone piled into the store. She had loyal fans, that was for sure.

I fixed my hat and walked in, making sure I had enough standing room in the back to be comfortable. Most people were scrunched up in the front, sitting in front of a few chairs that were placed at the head of the room.

There were some young children there, but it was mostly teenagers or older people like myself. She wrote a children's book for adults by the look of the room.

When Elizabeth and Robbie entered the room with their copies of Hattie Harmony, the crowd erupted into applause, and I could see her smiling and waving at everyone from where I was hiding out.

They took their seats and I watched as she scanned the room, looking for something, or someone.

Our gazes finally met and I could see her beautiful green eyes light up with happiness as she gave me a little wave. I smiled and waved back, and she began reading the book to the crowd.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her as she read. She looked so happy sitting there with Robbie, both of them taking turns reading the book they wrote together.

It was at that moment I knew I had absolutely no chance. She would never feel for me the way she does him. They had a book together, a life, a home, and I was just a streamer. I was nobody. And I always would be a nobody.

I heard whispering beside me and I turned to look. A young boy was talking to his mother, looking up at me with big, bright eyes. I smiled at him and he pulled on her sleeve excitedly.

"That's Y/N!" His whisper came out a bit louder than his mother would've liked.

I nearly blanched at his words, realizing that I had just been recognized. In public. I looked from him to Lizzie, who was still reading to the children sitting in the front row. His mother turned to me and gave me an apologetic look and I just smiled at her silently. This was Lizzie's moment, not mine.

A few kids around us had heard the little boy and were looking around for me. I nervously inched towards the door, not exactly ready to flee, but definitely needing some space from all of the young people about to recognize me.

I met the eyes of a few people and I brought my finger up to my lips, then pointed at Lizzie. They nodded and smiled, returning their attention to the woman of the hour.

I let out a sigh of relief as the attention was finally off me and back on the couple at the front of the room. This was the first time I had ever been noticed while I was out, which is probably because I didn't get out much. I also forgot to take into consideration that I had just been photographed with Lizzie not long ago, so people were bound to recognize me.

They finished the book and everyone applauded, and they started setting up tables so they could give out autographs. I got in line, grabbing a copy of the book as I waited. I didn't particularly want Robbie's autograph, but I knew Lizzie would get a kick out of me asking for one.

When I finally got up to the front, I handed her the book and she looked up at me briefly before doing a double take and smiling brightly at the sight of me.

"You came." She said as she happily signed my book, passing it over to Robbie and letting him sign it as well.

"I promised."

"Here you go." Robbie handed back my book, smiling at me.

I smiled back, a hint of guilt creeping up from the pit of my stomach as I looked at him.

"Can you hang around after the signing?" She asked and I nodded.

"I'll be back by the manga."

"What's manga?" She asked, her head tilting in confusion.

"It's cartoons on paper. You'll find me."

I smiled at her and walked off, letting her finish her event and browsed through the store. After about five minutes of wandering around, I found the manga section and waited, mindlessly poking at the books on the shelves.

"Excuse me." A voice said from behind me.

I turned around and saw a girl, probably in her late teens, standing with Lizzie's book in her hand ... and my hat on her head.

"Can you sign my hat? You're a huge inspiration to me and I just love you and Lizzie together."

I blushed a fierce, deep red at her words, taking her pen and her hat and signing it wordlessly.

"Thank you! You guys make a really cute couple. Bye!"

She waved and walked off and I stood there dumbly, unable to comprehend what just happened. Did that actually just happen? Do people actually ship us together?

"Hey!" A voice called out to me and I turned around, seeing Lizzie and Robbie approaching me.

"H-hey." I stuttered out.

She gave me a look and furrowed her brow at the look of me.

"You okay? You're all flushed."

"Yeah, I just ... a girl asked for my autograph. It took me by surprise."

"Aw, that's sweet! Have you ever given one before?"

"No, this was my first time."

"That's amazing! I'm so happy for you!"

She closed the distance between us and hugged me, squeezing me tight. I wrapped my arms around her after a second of hesitation and took in the moment. This would be the extent of our intimate moments; hugs and cuddles. No, no more cuddles. Those are dangerous. Just hugs.

She pulled away and took hold of my hands, bouncing ever so slightly in excitement.

"Do you have plans? You can come to dinner with us!"

"N-no, I really couldn't." I couldn't tell her that I felt horribly awkward around her and her husband.

"Please join us," Robbie cut in. "I'd love to know more about the woman Lizzie can't stop raving about."

She gave his arm a light smack, her face turning a slight pink at his words.

"How could I say no after hearing that?" I teased her and she covered her face with her hands.

"I just told him about all the fun we had." Her voice came out muffled.

"You wouldn't even know Brie was there from how she was telling it."

"Robbie, shut up."

She was red as a tomato now and I couldn't help but laugh.

"I'm glad you had such a good time with me - I mean us." I smirked at her and it was my turn to get a smack.

"Don't start. I had a good time with both of you."

I smiled widely like a happy fool and followed them out of the bookstore, letting them lead on to wherever they planned on having dinner.

•

They picked a fancy Italian restaurant which I had never been to before, and they ordered wine - which I declined. I wasn't about to say or do something I would regret in front of Robbie.

Lizzie and Robbie sat next to each other and I sat across from them, eating contently. Suddenly, I felt something touch my leg and I peeked up at Lizzie. Her head was down, looking towards her food, but I noticed a shift in her eyes and saw that she was looking at me from under her eyelashes.

I nudged the thing that touched me and it nudged back. I held in a laugh as I realized Lizzie was kicking me under the table.

She let out a giggle and Robbie gave her a strange look before switching his gaze over to me. I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn't. Her giggles were infectious and I joined in, both of us laughing at the fact that we were acting like children, having a good time.

"Am I missing something?" He asked, chuckling slightly himself at the sight of us.

"Lizzie kicked me." I said as she kicked my shin. "Ow!" I laughed. "You meanie."

"I'm sorry," she said, completely unapologetic. "I didn't realize you were such a softy."

"I'm very sensitive."

"Sensitive, my ass. You kicked me back, remember?"

"Only 'cos you didn't stop."

"Children, do you both need a time out?" Robbie said and we both laughed again, fully enjoying our time together.

Even being with Robbie wasn't all that bad. He seemed like a nice guy and he made Lizzie happy so I had no reason to dislike him other than the fact that he was married to her.

As the night ended, they dropped me back off at my apartment, Lizzie getting out with me to hug me.

"We still need to get that pumpkin ice cream."

I made a face.

"I was hoping you'd forget."

"No way. And I still have your sweater."

"That's true. Okay, name the time and place."

"How about I pick you up? I'll text you the time, okay?"

"Okay. Bye Lizzie. Bye Robbie." I waved at him through the window and gave Lizzie one more smile before turning and heading inside.

I watched from the window as she got back in the car and they drove away, and I let out a deep breath. I was exhausted. Pretending to be a human really took a lot out of me.

•

@oh-thats-cute @marvelwomen-simp @dorabledewdroop @scarlie-johalsen-blog

[ggukalaxy]

still deep in my "angels before man" brainrot and after reading @nicosraf's tweet about fan-favourite lines and dislking like 75% of his own writing, i can't not share my own favourites with rafa himself and also everyone else so get ready for a long fucking post

(side note: i haven't reread abm yet, so there could potentially be new highlights once i do reread it)

short explanation of what the position of the sticky notes mean:

• on the side of the page means this particular line or paragraph (19 marked)

• at the top on the inside means this page (4 marked)

• at the top on the outside means the entire scene starting from here (15 marked)

also, sometimes i didn't highlight a specific line or paragraph if it's within a page or scene i already marked (because i was running out of sticky notes lol)

let's get to it in chronological order!

1) page 25 to 30:

lucifer's first time flying with baal and his first time bleeding

2) page 49 and 50:

lucifer's first time watching michael fight

3) page 68 to 70:

gabriel telling lucifer about how god created him

4) this paragraph on page 86:

"so far away in the crowd was michael, with that proud grin of his and one hand in the air, but he called out to the youngest angel still. 'lucifer! lucifer!' even with all their distance, their gazes met and locked. an intake of breath, then the exuberant shout: 'lucifer—the lord has never made as fine an angel as you!'"

5) page 105 and 106:

michael and lucifer finally actually meeting

6) this paragraph on page 106:

"michael seemed to hesitate, before he turned to lucifer, and they were facing each other, seeing one another, for the first time since that day years ago when lucifer had led all of heaven in worship. up close, finally — lucifer felt all of himself melt like precious metal into a cast. 'you know my name,' michael said, and his voice had a mellow reverb to it. 'that's a shame. i wanted to introduce myself.' lucifer opened his mouth, but michael was grinning; it revealed little dips in his cheeks. 'i am michael, archangel of god, angel of strength.'"

(i was giggling and kicking my feet at this point, i love this moment so much i could scream)

7) page 107 to 113:

michael's and lucifer's first conversation with one another, right after that wonderful introduction above <3

8) michael saying this to lucifer on page 121 and 122:

"'that was a gallery? for art? i suppose it's no surprise that's where i found you then.'"

9) page 127 to 131:

god telling a story about a pure dove that dirties itself while lucifer is thinking about michael

10) michael saying this to lucifer on page 135:

"'(...) but i canceled it. i canceled all the plans i had for this.'"

11) michael to lucifer on page 147:

"'when i asked of you, angels said to me that your beauty was so great, one could take a glance, but never stare. (...) i learned that their words were true. when we wrestle, when we spend time together — the pain you give me is indescribable.'"

12) this paragraph on page 151:

"he discovered himself wanting to be afraid, feeling that he should be, knowing he should taste distress like his first visit to the bathhouse, but lucifer could still hear michael's words from when they had bathed. he thought of thorns, remembered those in his hands so long ago. the prince's eyes were shut; lucifer thought of tracing the bridge of his nose, his mouth, with his index, to see if he would prick him."

13) page 152:

lucifer and michael on earth, touching each other on their last day there

14) this paragraph on page 156:

"(...) but his hands went to lucifer's warm cheeks and, in a quick swoop, he planted his lips against lucifer's forehead; then he did it again, and again, pressing one kiss after another until he had done perhaps more than a dozen."

15) page 168 to 171:

lucifer and michael in lucifer's room, in front of his mirror

(lucifer's questions about why some things are the way they are... michael almost worshipping lucifer in front of their reflection... all the touches between them... oh i'm about to go feral—)

16) michael to lucifer on page 169:

"'for you, i wouldn't mind a little pain'"

17) page 177:

lucifer falling asleep in michael's bed without michael even being home

18) this paragraph on page 180:

"this, this here could be worship. "this—" lucifer pressed an innocent kiss to the prince's sweet, divine mouth. this could be religion."

19) page 181 to 183:

the interlude

(do i even have to say more? do i really have to go into detail about just how beautiful it is, and how every line sounds like poetry? i want to carve every word, every letter, into my skin, so deep that it reaches my bones, and stays with me long after i lose my flesh and soul)

20) these lines on page 201:

"the prince was grinning, waving him over, then offering open arms. when they embraced, it was tight, one of lucifer's hands going to michael's curls of hair and clutching it like an object once lost returned now to be cherished again; and the prince put his face up against the warmth of lucifer's neck and breathed low, hot."

21) page 210 to 216:

michael begging lucifer to stay with him, and then uriel showing up and just the entire conversation between him and michael, and him and lucifer

22) this paragraph on page 210:

"'simply my beloved.' michael smiled back, grand but sleepy, before he swung up to sit again. he shuffled closer to lucifer and chuckled warm, perhaps at the confusion on the other's irises and brows and mouth. 'my beloved lucifer.'"

23) michael to lucifer on page 211:

"'i think i'd like you to be the first thing i see when i wake.'"

24) page 250 to 253:

lucifer and michael touching each other, feeling each other

(i'm so weak for moments like these oh my god i could read a thousand pages just about every time these two even breathed in each other's direction)

25) this line on page 251:

"'i feel drunk,' michael murmured against him, then shuddered. 'your mouth— when you were created, your lips must have been laced with liquor.'"

26) these lines on page 253:

""we were over the flowers, and you touched me, remade me. (...) i want to be yours, your angel. angel of love, angel of michael.""

27) page 278 to 281:

lucifer cutting himself open

28) page 302 to 308:

lucifer trying to have sex with michael, and michael refusing

29) michael to lucifer on page 302:

"'don't make me say such embarrassing, affectionate things, beloved lucifer. but, let me say that — before i saw you on the street, dancing and singing, i was never very joyous. i was content with serving father, i felt i had no room to complain, but then you arrived. and being around you, i had so much joy i became irrational, and now — now, it's all spilling out. you make my heart swell and rise, like smoke."

30) michael to lucifer on page 303:

"'and suddenly i'm questioning everything, asking myself if this is really paradise, or if you are paradise.'"

31) lucifer to michael on page 304:

"'haven't you ever wondered why father is so strict about our subservience? it's because disobedience is creation. create with me, michael, and let's call it sin.'"

32) page 327:

lucifer finally losing his shit

33) page 328 to 330:

lucifer's speech about god being cruel and how angels are also good and deserve better

(just realized i didn't highlight this scene when i first read it and i'm honestly questioning myself right now because that whole speech and everything lucifer says is so fucking real)

34) page 340 to 344:

the moment michael disagrees with lucifer about the end of heaven and the end of god

35) michael to lucifer on page 344:

"'you're everything to me, the stars and the moons, the heat and the cold, the earth and the seeds, the waters and the flowers, but you are not god.'"

(also apparently didn't highlight this one and now i'm one hundred percent sure i ran out of sticky notes in that moment and told myself i'd do it later and ended up forgetting about it because this line absolutely broke me)

36) this paragraph on page 361:

"but the sword never made contact; a golden chain shot out from somewhere, grappled his entire body, flung him downwards. and lucifer, frozen, kicking, screaming — he saw michael suddenly above him (...). lucifer felt the tears land upon his own cheeks, as if they were his own."

(cut me open. let me bleed to death. break my ribs and crush my heart inbetween your fingers. it would hurt less than michael crying while hurting lucifer.)

37) page 362 to 367:

michael destroying lucifer on god's orders, cutting off his wings, and lucifer being damned

38) michael to lucifer on page 364:

"'apologize, i'm begging you, lucifer, stop, i can't do this— i don't want to lose you—'"

(just reading this again made me dry sob)

39) the last paragraph on page 367:

"the angels wept at their punishment — michael, between them all, his tears morphing into crystals, slicing down his cheeks and making him bleed."

40) page 369:

the little bits about the fallen angels finding lucifer on earth and how he loves them

so uhh yeah it's definitely safe to say that abm is literally my new favourite book now and i've been thinking about it every single day since i finished it a bit over a month ago and i find pieces of lucifer and of michael in every song i hear or every other story i read and i'll never get over them or over how good this book and the writing style is

@nicosraf seriously thank you so much for writing it and sharing it with the world, i will treasure it till the day i die

[verycharismaticdragon]

Currently reading a Korean webnovel instead of Chinese ones and this is making me conceptualize something, let’s see if I can put it in words…

My musings started with realizing that I’ve become very used to this cnovels thing where the main pairing is literally stated in the summary. Not the case for the k-novel I’m reading, and therefore I’m experiencing Pain and Suffering, — torn between my every instinct screaming that the author is setting up the OT3 endgame, and trying to lower my expectations to avoid disappointment. (And the novel is ongoing so I can’t even get spoilers for the ending :) girl help.)

As you may’ve guessed, I found myself strongly preferring the Chinese variant; but as to why exactly it was so important for my enjoyment to know the main couple… it took me a bit to figure out.

I mean, it’s not like I’m reading exclusively for romance, okay? Fannish activity-wise, sure, I tend to get fixated on ships (though even then, not all the time), but when it comes to reading (or any media intake, really), it’s not necessarily what I’m most interested in. Among my beloved titles, there are many where there’s no canon or fanon couple I'm attached to — and more than a few where there’s a canon couple that I neither love nor hate, just accept. So why did I get so attached to the concept of being, essentially, spoiled the endgame couple beforehand?

The key word that made it click was: promise. After all, it’s not like knowing the names of the characters that get together tells me anything about if they will be interesting or boring together, if they will be good for each other or make me scream “break up!” a million times. But it is a solid promise that these two people ARE gonna be a couple. 

And thinking about the word promise reminded me of discussions on plot twists that I’ve seen on here, about what makes a good plot twist and what makes a bad one — specifically, the phrase “narrative promise” that someone came up with. Basically, narrative promise is in the set up and the build up. If the plot twist betrays the narrative promise, it will not work, and it will be hated by the audience, who’ll feel like their emotional investment into the story was mocked.

The thing about the narrative promise, and why this term stuck with me, is that it’s actually applicable more broadly than just for shock-factor plot twists. For example: what is queerbaiting, if not betraying the narrative promise that the two characters are gonna be together? The fans see the narrative promise — the set up and the build up that would be unequivocally romantic for a het couple — and expect it to be fulfilled; only to be called delusional by the very creators that gave them this expectation. 

And this brings me to the next point: the catch of the “narrative promise” is that it’s never a guarantee. You can be completely sure the author is setting up X, only for them to turn around and do something completely different. (Possibly while calling you a little bitch for having the stupidity to invest your feelings into their creation, too.) After a while, a fan learns to manage their expectations. To not bet too much on anything, even if it feels like there’s no other way it can go. To wait until the end of the season or the last chapter before allowing themselves to get attached; to hold back on deciding whether something is good or not, lest they hype up something they will want to bury and forget later.

And this is where we circle back to c-novels, and to spoiling the main couple in the summary. Except I hesitate to call it “spoiling” because, as discussed, it actually heightens my enjoyment. For a simple reason: this practice takes the narrative promise from its nebulous, uncertain status to something concrete and real. Only for this one aspect and with the minimal-est amount of information possible, but still. That’s one thing I don’t have to guess about or doubt myself on (am I seeing things? is there a heterosexual explanation another way to read this? will the author simply kill off one of the characters before the end so that they don’t have to decide whether to make them explicitly queer?), and one thing I can count on (whatever else happens in the plot, I’ll still have this). It’s easy to invest emotionally into those characters and their relationship, when you have an assurance of their happy ending.

Ofc, I’m not saying that I don’t invest emotionally into relationships or characters other than the main CP — just that it is easier. And I would even say having this one(1) hard promise makes it easier to invest into other elements of the work, too, as it makes for a sort of safety net even if something else is disappointing or painful. 

Like, say you are invested in one couple with great chemistry and one side character. In case of a pre-stated ship, even if the side character dies, at least you still have the canon couple. So it’s not like all of your emotional connection to the book is lost, and you can probably bear with the loss of that character by writing everybody lives AU or something. But if the side character dies AND the couple you were invested in gets broken up or killed off or straight-married with other ppl… then doesn’t that make the entire thing into one massive disappointment? to the point that you might even regret picking up the book that made you care only to slap you in the face?.. 

So yeah, having even just one ship guaranteed is very comforting. And then I thought, well, doesn’t this apply to another type of fiction that I’m very familiar with?

Fanfiction?

Which, since very early on, has adopted the practice of putting the endgame ship in the header of the fic. And which, probably not coincidentally, is often a response to a broken (or at the very least not brought to its logical conclusion) narrative promise. And which always felt uniquely easy to read for me… 

See, prior to getting on this little thought train, I always assumed the ease was due to pre-existing familiarity with canon. You know, not having to learn the entire new setting, already having attachment to the characters… But now that I’ve connected these dots, I thought about times I read fics for fandoms I wasn’t familiar with, and originals formatted as fics — and really, wasn’t it always about the narrative promise made solid? 

Esp with how fics make it even broader than cnovels, by having extensive tags and ratings and such. Getting into a fic, you have a pretty clear idea of what may or may not happen in the story, even if you don’t know what exactly will happen or how. And a fic can fail to live up to the premise set up by ship/rating/tags — but not completely turn its back on it. 

(Well, normally. But in those exceptional cases where tags are misleading, at least you have something to point to when saying, “this is not what I was promised”. The ficwriter can hardly claim they don't understand why you expected [ship] to happen when they personally tagged their work as containing that ship — unlike the traditional media creators, who can always play the "you were totally misunderstanding my intentions the entire time" card.)

And having a solid promise like this, it turns out, takes lotsa pressure off starting a New Unfamiliar thing. I do, in fact, trust like that! So it’s no wonder that there were periods in my life when I would only consume fanfiction, because it was so much easier than extending trust to new titles. And it’s no wonder that what brought me back to being an avid reader were Chinese webnovels that use a practice very similar to what we have in fandoms.

I guess I understand myself better now! Still wish I knew if that k-novel's author is /j or /srs about the ot3 though.

[hiemaldesirae]

The Hazbin Graduate’s Guide to Homicide (3)

HAZBIN'S MIDSEMESTER STUDENT REPORT Student: Vox Vanhal Supervising Staff: Professor Enoch Leviathan Sponsor: Not Applicable To the Board: Vox Vanhal may be one of the most brilliant students this school has seen in decades. In all my years of teaching at Hazbin, I have never met a student more insanely ready to learn and apply their skills- due in part, of course, to said student's own possible insanity. I mean this in a jovial way, of course, but I will admit that when young Vanhal's true identity was revealed to me that my first thought was along the lines of 'is this student insane?' Whether or not my student's reason should be called into question is something myself and my fellow professor Asmodeus have discussed in length, but there is one thing that we can definitively agree on: If there is any one student in this school who I would choose to place my bets on, it would be Vox Vanhal. There is nothing more to say at this time of report evaluation. Sincerely, Professor Leviathan.

May God's blessings be with you now and at the hour of our deaths, Amen.

[ 1 ] / [ 2 ] (<- read these first for context and more murder academy radiostatic content!)

Though Alastor may have thought that Vox was much more knowledgable in how Hazbin's Institution for Homicide worked, the truth was, Vox was still fully flying on the seat of his own coattails.

He had no damn clue what he was doing still, and although it'd been two weeks since he'd arrived, part of him still felt like how he did when he'd first arrived: hesitant, scared, not knowing where to go or what to do besides the want to make his boss suffer as he killed him.

That level of animosity might sound strange to anyone not a Hazbin student or alumnus, but it was perfectly normal for any student enrolled in the academy to have such feelings. After all, there was quite a rigorous process involved in the application, and for Vox, this application process (and what led to it) was perhaps more intense than most.

There had once been a time where Vox had dreamed of becoming a Hollywood starlet, one who lit up the silver screen and was blessed by hundreds of thousands of cheering, dedicated fans who would fawn over his every move and action. He'd wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, at one point. But after taking on his first roles in Carmine Studios, the glamour of Hollywood had shattered like fine glass.

"Miss Vesper! Would you please look over here for a second?"

"Miss Vesper, when is your next movie coming out?!"

"Miss Vesper, is it true that you and your co-star on Anna Karenina, Valentino Vega had an affair-?"

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! That- fucking bastard!" Vox rushed into the privacy of his and Val's shared apartment, slamming the door behind him as he collapsed into the couch, head cradled in his hands. He couldn't even begin to start detailing the number of ways he'd wanted to fucking butcher and rip apart his boss.

Andrealphus Goetia was no stranger to the spotlight, naturally. One of Hollywood's top directors, the man had been an influential cornerstone in the history of movie-making, a real legend to light the days. But behind that picturesque platinum reputation laid a monstrous piece of shit.

It had been a complete accident that Andrealphus had found out about Vox's identity.

Vox himself hadn't even really planned out what to do about himself at that point, only that he'd known that the dresses he wore on screen were far more suited to his best friend than they were for him. Knew that the copious amounts of makeup flattened on him everyday made him feel more like a clown than a princess, that it was the most uncomfortable feeling to have to sit and play the pretty face for the audience's sake.

But he persisted, telling himself, one more year, one more year til my savings account has enough to supply Val and I with a comfortable life and we can leave.

But of course- of course Andrealphus had to ruin it for him.

The man had found out and immediately proceeded to blackmailing Vox with the information, holding things such as promotions, media gossip and rumors over his head. And now... now... Vox stared down at the script he held clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he grasped it with an iron grip.

"Dieser verdammte bastard," Vox muttered under his breath.

Though he'd never loved the spotlight that came with his first taste of fame, he had loved acting. Had loved being adored for his skill, applauded for the emotions that he could evoke in crowds of people and the way he could twist people's hearts. He had wanted to be one of the best, a household name.

And now, he stared down at the script for a movie that Andrealphus knew would tank his reputation. It was absolute bullshit. The plot was held together by thin strings and a bit of glue, despite being an adaptation of one of the past decade's best selling books. Not only that, but the moment he left the safety of the apartment once more, he would also have to contend with the rumors that were steadily piling against him and dragging his loved ones and friends into it too.

All this, because Vox had refused to sleep with his shitty boss.

He could still hear the fucker's voice- come on, don't you wanna say that you got a piece of me? I'll even leave out the part about you being a transvestite, darling, just the fact that I got a piece of you is enough.

God. If only.... if only he could see that bastard's face when he crushed his fucking skull in between his hands. He wanted to see Andrealphus' stupid face contort in revulsion and terror when Vox finally did the deed, wanted to bathe in the the fotze's inbred blood. He'd do anything for the chance to just kill that piece of shit-

"Amorcito?"

Val's voice makes Vox jump on the spot, quickly shifting to hide the script from view. His friend comes around the corner, eyebrows furrowed with concern, and it's this that makes Vox break his composure, a single tear falling down his face as Val frowns, taking a seat next to him on the couch. "Voxxy, amor... tell me what's wrong."

And because he can never keep his mouth shut when it comes to his best friend, Vox tells him everything. Val nods along, pauses at the right moments, all of that stuff that friends do when they're trying to let you know that they'd rip apart your shitty boss if not for the law.

But- and perhaps this is something that Vox knew deep down to be true anyway- Val was a bit different in that aspect. He'd met the man under... less than legal circumstances, after all, and he knew that Val was the heir to quite the illustrous cartel career.

So when Valentino stops him with a firm hand on the shoulder and hands him an application paper for Hazbin, telling him to think it through, Vox barely takes even a second glance at it before filling it out.

Now, two months later and sitting in the auditorium of Hazbin's famed Music Hall, Vox doesn't find himself regretting the decision. Sure, it's a bit lonely without Val's supporting presence by his side, but the students he's met so far have proved to be some of the friendliest people he's had the pleasure of knowing: ironic, considering the kind of school they're studying at. And he's even managed to make a friend! Not that bad a start, altogether.

Vox absentmindedly doodles on the edge of his notes as Professor Leviathan's soothing voice lectures them on the importance of a proper alibi. "If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, looks like a duck, but it has an airtight alibi, it is...?"

"Not a duck," the auditorium echoes back to the professor, who nods, looking satisfied with the class's response. "So, then! The first step to alibi making is...? Miss Velvette, perhaps you'd like to answer this one for us?"

The girl sitting beside Vox shoots up in her seat, looking as if she'd just fallen asleep and was awoken by the professor's question. "Uh... the..."

After a moment of silence and stuttering, Vox takes pity on the girl, sliding Velvette over a slide of paper that she squints at before reading. "Make sure you're in a different place from the crime?"

"And how would I do that?"

"I... uh. Use an accomplice...?" Velvette stutters.

Professor Leviathan shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Not quite. One thing you will have to learn at Hazbin's is that you should never rely on any other person to carry your deed out for you. No hiring accomplices- after all, paid personnel's loyalty is shaky and they have no honor code preventing them from taking you to the police- and absolutely no committing crimes as lovers, unless you can guarantee that neither of you will be snitching. Would anyone else like to take a try?"

Vox raises his hand hesitantly. "Move the crime scene or otherwise obscure the culprit?"

Professor Leviathan snaps his fingers, "Yes! Absolutely. One of the best ways to make yourself an iron clad alibi is, if the pope is shot in the church at midnight, make sure that you are seen halfway across town in the bar at midnight; so drunk that you cannot even leave until your wife comes to pick you up at two- and no one will suspect you, even if he was actually killed right outside the pub and moved to the church instead. By moving the crime scene, you can make yourself an ironclad alibi. Obscuring the identity of the perpetrator and making it someone who couldn't possibly be you also works splendidly. After all, if the police believe the murderer to be a six foot tall adult man, then the actual perpetrator, a four foot tall young woman, would be able to pass by completely unnoticed. Thank you for that input, Vox. Now, onto the actual creation of such an alibi..."

When class ends, Vox is the first to leave his seat and head for the door, intending on leaving and getting to Track with Professor Satan as quick as possible when someone stops him in his tracks with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Hey. Vox Vanhal, right?"

"That would be me, yes," Vox turns to face the person he's talking to, only to be met with the young woman that Professor Leviathan had called out in class earlier. "You were... Velvette?"

"Yep, that's me," the chipper young woman responds. "Listen, I know you don't know me at all, but I really need to get through this school year. Like- look, okay, I'm in a little bit over my head right now. I still want to go here and do what everyone here does, of course, I'd love to just go and plunge a damn butcher's knife into my cunt of an ex-friend's neck, but... well, you saw how I did back in class- look, what I'm trying to get at is I need someone to help me. And you're like, Leviathan's star student. So- I don't care what I have to do, I'll-"

Vox holds up a hand to stop her.

"I don't need you to do anything for me, unless you've got any tips on how to kill my boss and make him suffer during it. But I'll help you with whatever you need to study during your courses. Just..." He pauses, taking a moment to think out what he's about to ask. "Could you teach me how you did your makeup on your own?"

Velvette blinks, clearly not expecting that response. She laughs, a shrill, sharp bark and grabs his hand to shake it firmly. "Yeah, 'course I can. So, do we have a deal?"

"We do," Vox smiles. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hello))) this is partially inspired by the anon’s request, who was watching soap operas with her grandma - I’m the same 😂

So maybe reader comes from family with money, not like millionaires, but her dad is one of Californias top divorce lawyers so he definitely makes good cash. Of course her parents are not fans of James, up to the point where they cut her off because she refused to break up with him. But she takes it well, works as waitress at diner as she’s happy being with James. However, after Metallica’s first tour in 83, he confessed that he cheated with girls on the road - exactly what her father warned her about. So she kinda doesn’t have any option but to go back to her family. However, her father does forgive her and takes her back.

A few years later in 90s, when Lars is divorcing Debbie (his first wife), guess who’s Debbie’s attorney? She wins the case so at some point she comes to the studio so Lars can sign the papers for Debbie to get her part of money; and James is pissed and calls her cynical and cold hearted but she tells him it’s his fault and how she gave everything away to be with him and he went out to sleep with groupies? He feels guilty cause she’s right - he couldn’t keep it in his pants and a few days later calls the law firm she’s working at as he wants to reconcile and cheating was the worst thing he had done???

I thought I’d be brief but ended up with too much details I’m sorry if it’s weird 🥹🥹🥹

I don't know if it's what you were looking for, but I hope you like it 💕

Rewrite the past

I never thought I’d find myself back here, in my father’s office, staring at the walls lined with framed degrees, each one a testament to his relentless ambition. From the outside, my family looked perfect—money, influence, respect. My father was one of California’s top divorce lawyers, the kind of man who made sure everyone knew how hard he’d worked to give us the life we had. I never wanted for anything, but the privilege came at a cost.

When I met James, he was the one thing in my life that felt real, unpolished. He was wild, raw, unapologetically himself, and in a world of well-manicured facades, he was a breath of fresh air. I knew my parents wouldn’t understand, but I didn’t care. They wanted me with someone safe, someone respectable. But I wanted him.

It wasn’t long before the clashes started. My parents despised him—the loud music, the chaos, the risk. They tried everything to pull me away, and when I refused, when I told them that James was who I wanted, they finally drew a hard line.

“If you stay with him, you’re on your own,” my father had said, his tone cold, final. “You’re turning your back on everything we’ve given you.”

The words stung, but I chose James anyway. I took a job at a diner, working double shifts to pay rent on a cramped apartment, doing whatever it took to make things work. It wasn’t glamorous, but I was happy—at least, I thought I was.

Then Metallica went on their first tour. I didn’t hear much from James while he was on the road, and I tried to brush off the nagging worries in my mind. But when he finally came back, he looked different. There was a distance between us, something broken in his gaze. I’d barely gotten a chance to hold him before he pulled away and admitted the truth.

“I cheated,” he said, the words falling out like stones. “There were… girls on the road. I don’t even remember half of them.”

My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. All the warnings my father had given me, every condescending “I told you so” I’d ignored—it was all crashing down around me. I’d fought so hard to keep this, to prove to myself, to everyone, that we were real, that we could make it work.

And yet, here he was, proving all of them right.

I didn’t have anything left to hold on to, no safety net. The betrayal was too much, and, broken-hearted, I had no choice but to turn back to the only people who’d ever protected me. My father welcomed me back without hesitation, perhaps knowing he’d won in the end. But even as they opened their doors to me, it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like defeat.

---

The relief I expected didn’t come when I returned to my family. There was only a dull ache, the feeling of failure simmering beneath the surface. The world I’d tried so hard to escape had pulled me back in, and all the independence I’d fought for felt like it had slipped through my fingers.

My father didn’t say “I told you so”—at least not outright. But there was that look in his eyes every time he glanced my way, like he was almost smug about me finally realizing he’d been right all along. My mother, too, seemed relieved, constantly reminding me that I was better off without “someone like him.” They were careful not to bring it up too much, as if to spare me, but every comment felt like a small needle, poking at my decision to love James.

In their eyes, I’d come to my senses. In mine, I’d lost something I couldn’t get back.

As the years passed, I moved forward. I’d put everything into my career in law, following my father’s footsteps, using my pain as fuel to rise through the ranks of his firm. It was hard, grueling, but the satisfaction I got from the victories, the courtroom battles, made it worth it. Winning cases felt like a balm to all the broken pieces I couldn’t quite stitch together. And every time I signed a high-stakes case or handled a tricky negotiation, I could feel my father’s pride. It was almost enough.

But there was still a part of me that wondered what might have been—if he’d been someone who could keep his promises. If we’d managed to build the life I’d imagined with him. Every now and then, I’d hear Metallica on the radio or see an old photo of us tucked away in the back of a drawer, and I’d feel the sting of what we’d lost.

Then came the day when the past decided to walk right back into my life.

It was late, the office winding down for the evening, when my assistant walked in with a stack of documents and a carefully neutral expression.

“Debbie Lars Ulrich's case,” she said, placing the papers on my desk. “The divorce settlement. Lars needs to sign his part.”

I froze for a moment, processing what this meant. Debbie was one of my clients, yes, but the reality of who her soon-to-be ex-husband was—and what that meant—washed over me slowly, sinking in. If Lars was here to sign, James would be nearby. Of course, he would. They were practically family.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and agreed to bring the papers to the studio the following day.

---

When I arrived at the studio, I knew I had to keep myself together. This wasn’t about me; this was business. I walked in, the familiar smell of stale beer and smoke hanging heavy in the air. The studio felt like a time capsule, reminding me of those early days, back when I’d believed in forever.

And then I saw him.

James stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze cutting through me the moment I entered. The years had changed him—sharpened the lines on his face, deepened the shadows under his eyes. But there was a hardness in his expression, a guardedness I hadn’t seen before.

He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “So, you’re the one representing Debbie now?”

“Yes,” I replied, my voice steady, professional. “I’m here because Lars needs to sign these.”

He scoffed, a humorless smile tugging at his lips. “That’s all this is, huh? Just a job to you?”

I could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Yes, James. This is my job. I’m here for Debbie. What did you expect?”

He shook his head, his gaze narrowing. “I expected you to have some heart left. But I guess you’ve gotten really good at this—cold, calculating.”

My fingers tightened around the documents in my hand, the years of hurt and resentment rushing back. He didn’t get to act like this, not after everything.

“Cold?” I repeated, letting out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich coming from you. I gave up everything for you, James—my family, my life. I was willing to fight for us. And what did you do? You threw it away for a few cheap thrills on the road.”

His face paled, and I could see the flicker of guilt, raw and undeniable, as he struggled to hold my gaze.

“I was young,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I was stupid. I didn’t know what I was risking until it was too late.”

I shook my head, the familiar ache resurfacing as I stared at him. “Do you even realize what you cost me? I had to rebuild my entire life from scratch, and I did it without you. I’m not here to rehash the past or play whatever game you think this is. I’m here because this is what I do. This is who I am now.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, as if seeing me for the first time. His shoulders slumped, the bravado fading as he looked down at the floor, defeated. “I didn’t deserve you. I don’t think I ever did.”

“Maybe you didn’t,” I replied, softer now, feeling the weight of every hurt, every broken promise. “But I loved you, James. And I would’ve done anything to make it work. You’re the one who threw it away.”

He nodded, looking at me with that same, aching regret, and for a moment, the years seemed to fall away. We were just two people, tangled up in the remains of a love we couldn’t save.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words barely a whisper. “I know it doesn’t change anything, but… I’m sorry.”

I took a deep breath, willing myself to let go of the last fragments of pain, to move on from what we’d lost.

“Goodbye, James,” I said, my voice steady, final.

There are things in life you can’t take back, no matter how desperately you wish you could. Years had passed since we met, but yesterday as I met him again and today I heard his voice cracking over the phone as he spoke the words he’d likely rehearsed a hundred times.

I had been wrapping up the final details on a case, buried in papers and the quiet hum of my small studio in downtown LA. It was my sanctuary—a space I’d built for myself in the years since our breakup. The walls were lined with case files, books, and certificates that whispered of the life I’d carved out alone. The last person I expected to invade this space was James Hetfield.

The phone rang, its sudden chime breaking through the silence. I glanced down, and I answered.

“Hello?” I said, my voice uncertain, testing the waters. I could feel the flutter of my heart in my chest, a mix of excitement and dread.

“Y/N,” he breathed, and the sound of my name on his lips was both familiar and foreign. It sent a rush of emotions through me—nostalgia for the love we once shared, mixed with the sharp pain of betrayal. Memories of our time together flooded my mind, each one a reminder of the happiness we had, intertwined with the heartbreak of his infidelity. I had spent years trying to forget him, yet here he was, a ghost from my past, stirring feelings I thought I had buried deep.

“What do you want, James?” I kept my tone guarded, bracing for whatever might come next, but inside, I was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, longing, and an unshakeable sadness.

“I know it’s late,” he started, his voice softer than I remembered. “But… Can we talk?”

For a moment, I hesitated. Memories crashed over me like a wave—the days spent dreaming of a future together, the betrayal that shattered it all after his first tour. I’d given up everything for him, only for him to throw it all away.

“What is it you want to talk about?” I asked, my curiosity battling with the pain that lingered. “It’s been years.”

He paused, and when he spoke again, I could hear the weight of regret. “I just… I’m sorry. For everything.”

His words hung in the air, thick with remorse, and old wounds reopened like fresh scars. “James, you did exactly what my father warned me you would. I left my family, gave up everything just to be with you. And you threw it away for girls you don’t even remember.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “It haunts me every day. Cheating was the worst thing I’ve ever done, and I don’t expect you to forgive me… but I needed you to know how sorry I am.”

I ran a hand over the edge of my desk, grounding myself. This was my life now—a life I’d built without him, in this studio that felt as much a part of me as my own skin. I had carved out success and peace, and this chapter of my past had no place in it.

“I’ve moved on, James,” I said finally, my voice low and steady. “This is my life now, and I don’t need the past interrupting it.”

Silence filled the line, but I could almost feel the regret radiating from him, his guilt settling over him like a heavy shadow. He had made his choices, and I had made mine.

But then I thought about the years that had passed, the void where he used to be. I couldn’t deny the flicker of hope igniting inside me. “Maybe... maybe we could talk,” I heard myself say, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

“Really?” His voice was tentative, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, but only if you’re serious about changing. I won’t go through that again,” I warned, my heart racing with uncertainty.

“I am. I swear,” he replied, urgency creeping into his tone. “I know I messed up. I just want a chance to prove it to you.”

As we spoke, I felt the walls I’d built around my heart begin to crack, revealing the soft, vulnerable parts I had long kept hidden. The thought of giving him a second chance filled me with both excitement and dread. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps we could find our way back to each other, even if it was a long and winding road.

“Okay, let’s see where this goes,” I said, my voice steadying.

“Thank you,” he breathed, relief flooding his words. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Just remember, James,” I warned, feeling the weight of my decision. “You’ll need to earn it.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice resolute. “I won’t let you down this time.”

As I hung up, the silence of the studio wrapped around me, familiar and comforting, but now tinged with a cautious hope. I had found my peace, but maybe—just maybe—I could open the door to something new. The ache in my heart remained, but now it held the promise of healing and the possibility of love rediscovered.

[ghoul-foolery]

Kinktober, Day 30

Roleplay / Pet Names

Prompt List - Kink/Flufftober Master List

//

> Roleplay > Hancock/Nora >Tags: No sex, ‘Evil Hancock’ > Words: 1108 Note: The scenario is treated as if it’s real until it doesn’t.

//

Cresting the top of the spiral staircase, Nora’s steps faltered. The door to Hancock’s office was open. Not enough to be an open invitation to stop in and chat, but just enough to be able to see him lounging on one of the couches. There was a cloud of smoke drifting over his head; cigarette pinched between the fingers of one hand, a rocks glass in the other. He looked relaxed; feet propped on the coffee table, his head and arms resting along the back of the couch.

Steeling her nerves with a deep breath, Nora stepped onto the landing, knuckles rapping against the door as she called out gently, “Mayor Hancock?”

“Well, well, well if it ain’t Bobbi’s little patsy.” Mayor Hancock’s voice was a low, deadly drawl as he lifted his head and shot her an inky stare.

“I just came to say—“

“Come in, vaultie. Shut the door.”

“I don’t mean to intrude or, um—“ she took another breath, a little short, a little shaky. “Well, more than I— I just wanted to come and—“

“C’mon sister. I ain’t a fan of repeating myself.”

Nora held her breath as she stepped into the office. If he killed Finn right out in the street in broad daylight, what would he do behind closed doors? Maybe she should have stayed away after all. When she closed the door she pressed it gently enough that it barely made any noise. It put her back to Hancock for just a moment, a moment where she thought to gather her courage.

“Lock it.”

“Mayor Hancock—“

“Lock. It.”

Nora flipped the lock, then turned to face him. He was leaning forward in the couch, depositing his glass on the table and snuffing his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Now, what was it that you were trying to say?” It was said so casually, like he didn’t just order her to come in and lock the door behind her. When he leaned back into the couch again he had his knife in his hand. The pointed end was used to pick at one of his nails.

“I just wanted to come and apologize. Personally. I had no idea it was your storehouse, she said it was Mayor MacDonough’s and I’m so sorry—“

“Sorry you got caught.”

“No!” Nora said quickly, shaking her head in adamant disagreement. Then she tried again, softly, calmly, “No, sir. You can ask Fahrenheit. I didn’t know.”

The knife was stabbed into the coffee table with so much speed and force that Nora’s whole body jumped. She pressed back against the door with a gasp.

“You’ll understand that, knowing or not, you’ve broken my trust. And I don’t keep people around if I don’t trust ‘em. Not for long, anyway.”

“I’ll leave. I won’t come back ever again—“

Hancock chuckled, “Or you could make it up to me.”

Being banned from any town or establishment wasn’t ideal. Not when resources were so scarce, not when danger was in such abundance. She couldn’t afford to be cut off from already limited access to resources.

“I—please. Yes. What can I do to make this right?”

There was a wicked tilt to his lips as his eyes crawled up the length of her body.

“You tell me.”

Nora managed a hesitant, “I could clean? Cook?”

Hancock chuckled then crooked a finger at her. “Come over here, vaultie.”

Keeping her eyes trained on his, she crossed the short distance that separated them. She stopped just at the edge of the coffee table. At her new vantage point she could see the evidence of his interest.

“I’m going to tell you to remove your vault suit. You either don’t, and you leave Goodneighbor and never come back. Or you do what you’re told, and you come show me just how sorry you are, you feel me?”

A small nod, a swallow that felt too thick. “I feel you.”

“Not yet, you don’t.”

A laugh nearly bubbled out of her system — a laugh that could ruin their little game. She wondered how long he’d been waiting to use that one. You feel me? I feel you. Not yet, you don’t. Har har har. Nora clamped her lips against her teeth, fighting off a smile. She was supposed to be scared, she was supposed to be hesitant, and uncertain, but she would ultimately give in and enjoy the angry mayor’s demands and become his in the process.

“Something funny, vaultie?” His voice was raspy quiet, but the ridges of his brows arched suggestively.

“Nuh-“ she took a quick breath. She would not be the first to break character. “No, sir.”

“Good. Now take off that vault suit.”

Nora made a show of glancing off to the door, as if she was contemplating leaving. Then she grabbed the tab of the zipper, and toed off her boots. Black eyes traveled over every inch of her as it was exposed. They followed the track of the zipper, flit over her breasts, her tummy, her legs. When she stepped out of the suit she was down to her underwear.

Hancock tapped his leg, and Nora went to him. She straddled his lap, her hands finding his shoulders for support. He gripped the fat of her hips, dragging her close as he growled, “Now show me how fucking sorry you are.”

Oh.

A delightful little shiver shot through her, making her breath hitch in her throat.

Hancock chuckled, peering up at her. “You’re actually digging this—“

“Shut up, you were the one who wanted to play ‘Evil Hancock’.”

As he guided her down for a kiss, his body still shaking with his amusement, he asked, “Am I doin’ okay though?”

“Mm,” she hummed, dragging her lips down along his jaw so she could kiss and suck at his throat. “I think so. The knife was a nice touch.”

“It wasn’t too much?”

“Mm-mm.” She bit at his neck and sucked, swirling her tongue against his flesh. “A little threatening but not actually threatening…”

“The next time we play, you’re going to come and apologize for getting Kent kidnapped.”

Nora snorted, “Is this ‘Evil Hancock’ or ‘Let’s relive all of Nora’s mistakes’?”

“Who says they gotta be mutually exclusive? It’ll be fun. My little thief gets in trouble with her mayor again.”

Rough hands slipped up the length of her back, dragging and slow until he worked the hooks of her bra. As her bra fell away, as Hancock’s hands came to grasp and play with the newly exposed skin, Nora replied, “Deal.”

[k-s-morgan]

Heyy! I am such a fan of your work in the Tomarry fandom, and I don’t want to sound intrusive, but I’m just wondering if you ever shared your history with the ship. You said before that you were a huge Snarry fan, so how did you transition from that to this? (Hehe, maybe I’m getting it wrong like you were always a fan of both since then, my apologies if ever. I don’t know if I’m assuming you’re no longer a Snarry fan.) And what made you write fanfic of them? How did you come up with such unique and great storylines? I wonder if you got inspired from someone or something because damn, the way you tell your stories is just my perfect cup of tea. And I can see you enjoy it! Really great.

Hi! Thank you so much for your sweet words <3 You are absolutely right, I used to be a Snarry shipper. I can't say I'm indifferent to this ship now, but the years where I gulped down all kinds of fics featuring them have passed. The passion isn't there any longer.

How I stumbled upon Tomarry: some months before publishing the first chapter of WHGTB, I was re-reading a Snarry fic called The Marriage Stone. Snape is not nearly the bastard I prefer him to be there, but I liked the world-building a lot, so I enjoyed reading it. There is a small arc there where Lucius Malfoy is attracted to Harry, and I found myself fascinated by it. It occured to me that it might be interesting to try the fics centered on Harry and Lucius - I was never a fan of the latter, he's overly pompous and a coward, but I wanted to find something where Lucius would be dark, regal, and a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, the fics I read didn't appeal to me, so I started wondering what other dark, regal character to pair Harry with. I was in the mood for something darker than I typically found in Snarry.

And that's how I thought of Tomarry. In retrospect, it's amazing that I hadn't found them sooner. I always liked the parallels between Harry, Tom, and Severus, and since I thought Harry and Snape might make a potentially great couple, I don't know why I never considered Tom and Harry in the same context until years into shipping Snarry.

I tried some Tomarry fics, and ohh, I fell head over heels. I could no longer go back to my other HP ships, it was like my most perfect drug.

I'm so flattered that you referred to my stories as unique because I actually really hesitated about publishing WHGTB. I knew I would write this story, but the fandom has so many Harry-raising-Tom fics that I thought people are already bored to death with it, so it'd be something I'd create just for myself. Needless to say, the response to it shocked me.

I consider WHGTB and ATLWETD very plain in terms of plot uniqueness - they are just my takes on 'Harry raises Tom' and 'Harry studied with Tom' tropes. To me, stories like Consuming Shadows and Train to Nowhere are unique, while I'm doing the maximum relationship, minimum plot thing. That's what I prefer as a writer, and I love it - knowing other people enjoy it just as much never fails to make me incredibly happy.

As for why I decided to write these fics at all - to be honest, I can never tell how these things work. For example, despite my intense love for Snarry and the years I spent dedicated to this ship, I never wanted to write about them. Same goes for my other fandoms. I can be absolutely insane about a ship, I can love the characters and the universe they come from to death, but the need and desire to write something can be lacking. With Tomarry, I wanted to write about them immediately.

I can't say I got inspired by anything except for a general Tomarry vibe. I think a couple of fics I read might have had an impact on me in terms of some ideas, especially Fate's Favorite since I read it an absurd amount of times, but there is nothing specific I would point out as my source of inspiration. Just a ship itself.

[kyleoreillylover]

Ryan Bergara x Fem!Reader Headcanons

Summary: What’s it like being best friends with Ryan Bergara?

A/N: In my Ryan mood and I can’t resist not writing him anymore! I barely see any Ryan x reader fanfics so I had to write one myself!

If you were not already a Boogara, he would absolutely do anything to try and convince you to become one.

Sends you videos and calls you at 3 am to share “evidence” that he had.

“Ryan, I am trying to sleep!”

“I’m sorry, I just needed to show this to you before I forgot to!”

You forward the videos to Shane and he always responds either with a “😂” emoji or just full on making fun of Ryan.

It is funny either way.

Shane is your shared best friend.

He likes to tease you and Ryan.

But he loves when you gang up on Ryan with him.

And you both tease him.

Ryan acts like he hates it but he secretly loves that both his best friends get along and are besties 🥹🥹

Shane sees you like an annoying loving sister.

Ryan is definitely the more protective out of the two of you.

You are super chill, and one thing everyone can agree on is that you are one of the sweetest people ever.

But it does lead to you letting people walking over you sometimes.

But you have Ryan!! And he does not let that happen. He doesn’t hesitate to step in and check a bitch if he sees you uncomfortable.

He hates seeing the people he cares about being hurt or treated like crap.

When you are with Ryan you both feed into each other’s recklessness. You might be calm and chill, but when you are with him, it is like all your fears go away and you can let go of responsibilities and common sense!

It also helps that you trust each other with your life, so you know the other would never lead you to getting hurt.

It does lead into both of you doing stupid shit, though that Shane makes fun of you for.

One time you convinced him to do the handcuffed for 24 hour’s challenge for a video, and you both lost the key within an hour 😭

You are also the scriptwriter for Buzzfeed Unsolved/Watcher, so Ryan sometimes will come to your house with the both of you and staying up late until 2 am searching for information about a case/ location and cracking stupid jokes

You once woke up to him laying on top of you, you in his arms and laptops and papers scattered across the desks, and your legs tangled together and him snoring in your ear.

You grabbed your phone, took a picture, posted it on your story maybe knowing the internet would explode, then snuggled into him and went back to sleep.

You are not on camera that much, usually you are behind it with the crew, but Ryan begs you to at least do the Postmortems/Debriefs with him and Shane.

You are hesistant at first, what is the fans don’t like you? Or they think that you are trying to get in between the ghoul boys?

Ryan assures you that they will love you.

And he is right!

They end up loving you and your dynamic with Ryan and Shane!!

Which gives you the confidence to go with them to ghost and crime sites.

Every time Ryan felt anxious and fearful, he would look at you and see you behind the camera and that makes him feel 1000 times better.

And if it got to the point that he was freaking out and panicking(like that ep where Ryan was laying on the floor and Shane was trying to comfort him) you’d get out from behind the cameras and hug and comfort him.

Because you can’t stand to see him like that

“Breathe Ryan, you’re good. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

If you were staying at a haunted hotel, if everyone was sleeping in separate rooms, he’d FaceTime you the whole night

There’s no way in hell he’d sleep through the night, and Shane would make fun of him if he called hum throughout the night

You didnt even have to talk to each other, your presence was enough for him

He’d wake you up randomly though if he thought he heard something in his room 💀

“Y/N! Y/N, Are you awake??”

You groggily woke up, moving your phone away from your ear at Ryan’s screams.

“What?? What happened?”

“…”

You let out a sigh at his silence. “It was your shadow, wasn’t it?”

“…..Maybe? But I swear I thought I saw something move!”

You rolled your eyes at the camera. “Go to sleep Ryan.” You ignored his voice as you went back to sleep.

The internet ships you guys a lot

They tend to do that with most male and female friendships online tbh

And it doesn’t help that the both of you can’t help but be naturally affectionate to one another.

Whether it’s wrapping an arm around the others shoulder, jumping on Ryan, scaring him and forcing asking him to give you piggyback rides and him throwing you onto his shoulder as revenge, the fans will eat up every moment.

You guys just find it hilarious 😭 It becomes a game between you guys to try and make the fans go insane 😭😭

You guys are honest with each other all the time and are open books with each other. If you are feeling down, he can tell just tell, no matter how hard you try. If someone is not good for Ryan, you will straight up tell him. He trusts your judgment because he knows it’s coming from a place of love and you rarely steer him in the wrong direction.

You tried to teach him to cook once and he almost burned your house down 😭 So he just randomly comes to your house to eat your food because he swears your cooking is the best.

Makes fun of your height. You're taller than him? It doesn't matter, your still getting attacked lol. You're shorter than even? Even worse for you, you can't make fun of him at all without him calling you a dwarf at least once.

He is a gymhead (He's not Biceps Bergara for nothing) and makes you go with him all the time. He claims you need to get stronger in case someone tries to attack you but you think it's cause he likes to see you suffer.

You take the ugliest pictures of him known to existence. He tries to delete them but you just keep getting more (Shane sends a lot to you but Ryan doesn't need to know that)

Acts like he hates your music taste to annoy you but secretly loves it

He drives you everywhere because you are quite literally the worst driver he has ever seen.

"Slow down, slow down, you almost hit that car!"

"It's not my fault they were in the way!"

"The light turned red and it was their turn!"

You force him to do Tiktok dances with you, and he's surprisingly not that bad at them?!! 😭

Whenever one of you needs comfort, no words are needed. You just wrap each other in your arms, the hugs and comforting presence silencing the outside world for as long as you both want.

All in all, Ryan would be a loving, playful best friend who holds you and your friendship close to his heart. He'd do anything for you to see you happy, he would make fun of you ( he is the only one allowed to do that) but would defend you in that same breath if anyone messed with you. He is truly grateful for you, and even though you guys joke and make fun of each other all the time, he makes sure you know it every single day.

[rillyfrilly]

lolita talk…! ୨ৎ

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

hello~! this week's post was inspired by my thoughts on identifying as a lifestyle lolita. i really wanted to delve into my own experience of how i became one, and talk more in depth about what being a lifestyle lolita means to me here in 2025. i read an amazing blog post that further ignited my motivation to talk about this which was "so am i a lifestyle lolita yet?" by cupcake kamisama. if you have the time, please go read that before reading my blog post as it's an amazing read..! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ let's get started. (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

my experience with becoming a lifestyler isn't as romantic as one might expect, especially if you're an avid fan of the movie kamikaze girls. to elaborate, momoko is a teenager with rose-colored glasses who sees nothing but the beauty in being a lifestyle lolita. her life revolves around lolita — everything she does, works for, and thinks about supports her dream of daydreaming about being a french noble in the rococo era, rather than living in rural japan while wearing lolita fashion. this is a perfect example of the kind of idealized thinking common to youth, where one's favorite thing becomes a world of fantasy. she depends on others to take care of her needs, while all she can focus on is lolita fashion and the happiness it brings her.

in reality, most modern-day lifestylers are working adults who have to balance their love for lolita with the demands of everyday life, including work and other interests related to the lolita subculture. saying this isn't to discredit momoko, as i personally dream of living her life, but it highlights the difference between fantasy and reality — it's simply not feasible to lead that kind of existence. cupcake kamisama goes into depth about this mindset, and i fully support it.

furthermore, my own story is that of a working-class adult struggling to get by while working full-time and attending university. it's a lot less whimsical than one might imagine, but that is the reality.. (ᵕ—ᴗ—) japanese fashion has been my hyperfixation (yaaay, autism! (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)) for years, but lolita called to me like a siren. i’d always wanted to wear it but stayed away, knowing how expensive it could be, and also out of fear that i’d get too attached to the fashion. eventually, i convinced myself to start small — i'd only get one coordinate for special occasions. but once i started researching, i fell harder for the fashion and became completely enamored..!

unfortunately, this obsession took over my thoughts. it consumed me to the point where i could only think about lolita. i started imagining wearing it every day and wanted to find hobbies inspired by my love for lolita so that i could be immersed in it constantly. in doing so, i realized that many of my previous interests already aligned with lolita culture, and naturally, with the lifestyle that accompanies it. i began to consider whether i wanted to identify as a lifestyler since it felt like all i wanted to do in my free time, but i hesitated.

my hesitation stemmed from the belief that to be a lifestyler, i needed to own tons of brand items, go to tea parties every day, and have unlimited free time to devote solely to lolita — much like momoko in kamikaze girls.

but that was never the case! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) being a lifestyler is so much more than that to me. lolita lifestyle is more of a philosophy than a set of actions. you don't have to wear lolita every single day. while many lifestylers do, real life often gets in the way. being a lifestyle lolita can influence how you present yourself in day-to-day life, instead..! lifestyler expression can be seen in your hobbies, the way you eat, your mannerisms, and what you enjoy! while none of this is a strict requirement, it’s common for both modern-day and past lifestylers. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

being a lifestyler can also mean being actively involved in the community, attending meetups, events, and other gatherings that are aligned with the lifestyle. (๑´>᎑<)~*

you don’t need to dedicate every waking moment to frills. the most important thing is that you continue to find inspiration and joy in it. that is what being a lifestyler means to me, regardless of whether i can wear lolita every day or not. create your own momoko-esque lifestyle in a way that works for you, and know that you're valid for it. not having enough time for lolita every day doesn’t make you any less of a lifestyler. (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

thank you for tuning in, cuties..! i hope this post wasn't too long or hard to read. see you next week. -`♡´-

♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ

riri ❤︎₊ ⊹

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟAn Afternoon whit you → Lim Ryung-gu x reader ˚₊· ꒰💦꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊Where in a comfortable cafe you feel more than happy to share moments with Ryung-gu.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊Lim Ryung-gu x Fem¡reader

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊cute, comfort - some sad matters :/

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊parallel universe, Ryung-gu is not a grim reaper - being a police officer, but from the same division as k-drama (suicide prevention).

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊0,5k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊English is not my first language! Feedback's cheer me up and help with what I can improve ❣️ Have a good reading and I hope you like it 💙

⊹₊˚ʚ❛Masterlist❜ɞ

𝗔 𝗦𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗟 smile escapes his lips when he observes Ryung-gu distracted while watching the snow falling on another afternoon that ended early due to the cold weather. You take a step forward when you hear the friendly attendant calling out your password.

"Good afternoon! An Americano with lots of ice and a cappuccino, please." You smile simplistically and he then leaves to get the order.

After picking it up, you walk up to your boyfriend who welcomes you with a warm smile reserved just for you. Sitting down next to him, you watch him take the Americano with a cute, funny expression in approval of the taste.

"Honestly, I'm not a fan of that kind of coffee, but every time I see you drinking it, it feels like the tastiest thing in the world.." at his sudden remark they both burst out laughing.

"I think it's because everything is better when I'm with you." He holds your hand, looking into your eyes in contemplation. Despite his playful tone, you could feel the affection in his words. There was a momentary silence, where only the smile on their faces was present, along with the feeling of the affection he distributed in her hand.

"I missed you...so much." You break the silence, pensive.

"I know you're busy with your work in division, and I honestly feel bad for being kind of selfish for wanting you all to myself. But then I remember you're helping save lives and everything gets better." Your eyes meet his and it's only then you realize you've been wandering this whole time. Her hands quickly land over her mouth in embarrassment, her eyes widen.

"I'm sorry, I'm-I-"

"No! It's okay" he cuts you off. "Thanks. In truth. Actually, I didn't know I thought that way. To be honest, these days it's really hard on the divide but - that's really no reason to forget about you. When you miss me, you can call me without hesitation. I love you dear. You are and always will be my priority." After everything he said, you couldn't help but get emotional. Taking advantage of your position beside him, you hug him tight, surprising him by the sudden act. It doesn't take long for him to reciprocate, wrapping you gently in his arms, as if you were so fragile to the point of breaking.

You knew he loved you, you knew he cared and worried about you a lot. You were aware that he is very busy and admired him even more to see the effort he makes to be with you.

"Thank you, Gunnie. You are the best boyfriend I could ever have." Cupping his jaw in your hands, you take him by surprise when you bring your lips together in a quick peck - being in a public environment. "I think we should spend more afternoons together like this."

"Can I say the same, dear."

⊹₊˚ʚ❛original by:: @hyunjinners ¡ Like × reblog!❜ɞ

[tea-coven]

I've been kinda hesitant to share this because I don't want to leak any personal info of anyone or myself, but I think I formatted it in a way that's respectful :>

About a year ago I attended my pediatrician, a lovely older woman who always made me feel really comfortable and I had a lot of fun talking with (which is rare for a doctor!). I was in my senior year of high school and she began asking typical college questions near the end of the appointment. Eventually she got to the expected, "-and what are you planning on majoring in?", I told her "2D animation!" I began to elaborate, as a lot of people I talked to about it usually needed me to explain what that meant, like cartoons, princess and the frog, etc. Eventually she spoke up in an "Ah!" manner, and excitedly said "Like Disney channel!".

This is went the story goes insane for me. And lead me to nearly passing out.

She states "you can make a lot of money off of those, very lucrative, congrats!". I was...confused. Most animators aren't known for their salaries and I wanted to know where she got the idea. She said "well my best best friend's kid, basically my godson haha, makes a lot off of it. He actually made a show on Disney!" (It was really sweet how proud she seemed, while still casual) I was pretty intrigued about this, and since I knew a good amount of animated shows and am really passionate about the subject, asked "what show? I probably have seen or heard of it!" (Especially since she said "made" and not "worked on"). She begins to go on about how she isn't sure if it's super well known or anything, but after more prodding (not malicious, I just was curious/ wanted learn about how he started), she goes

"Well I don't remember the name or much about it, but I do know that it stars twins, cause he himself is one." She began to go on about him, wanting to visit, and general stories about her and her friend. Small talk!

Unfortunately, I had froze, and also became increasingly grateful that I was in a doctors clinic.

I paused, and gently asked "is he...Alex Hirsch?"

"Oh you know him!"

"His show is gravity falls...it like, is the reason I'm so passionate about animating, story telling, etc. he's the reason I'm going to school for this."

She began to look a little confused while I talked, as I think she started realizing that this was not a small show. I speak up (albeit a little starstruck) telling her about how most my friends also really love the show. She had seen some of my work before, and began discussing how she was "sure he'd be as big a fan as her". (I don't say this in a parasocial, or bragging way btw, i just again found her really sweet and fun, and this a cute interaction)

The appointment was pretty much over by this point, but before I left she said "I'll give him a call and tell him about you! I'm sure he'd be flattered." I, as any 18 year old aspiring animator, go into a RATIONAL fugue state.

As my dad and I were leaving, and he finished signing some paperwork, she came out of a room down the hall waving, and called my name

"I just called and told him about you! He was very flattered! Good luck!"

And I, as any 18 yo aspiring animator, did the rational response

And passed out in the car