#truly can’t believe i’m about to type this out as things like that ‘never happen to ppl like me’

[mylifestylearedilfs]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ joost klein x tinder date!reader ࿐ྂ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ OCEAN EYES : mention of sex (but no smut) fluff ; use of alcohol ; imagine ; all is fictional ; english is not my first language

(part two)

, , ,

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ CREATING AN ACCOUNT on tinder wasn’t on your to do list, but after another failed attempt on meet your future ‘husband’ in real life, you decided to seek luck at this app. after choosing your best pictures, you set your profile with hope that you wouldn’t have to text with all of those weirdos that probably were on this site, asking themselves why i don’t have girlfriend?

you honestly couldn’t understand people (mostly the whole alfa men) on this kind of platforms, where they acted like they’re better than everyone else, but in reality they wouldn’t even say ‘hi’ to you. also what’s the point of having a dating app, if you can’t even properly ask the other person to date. you personally hated texting, it was the worst way to communicate, because you weren’t able to show your emotions clearly and it was easier to misunderstand the intentions.

you tried to ignore all suspicious looking people, but you lose hope, when even people your type were weird or impolite towards you. you were close to just delete app and forget about everything that happened. but then you received some kind of ‘super like’ from very good looking blonde man, the first thing that caught your attention was his bright blue eyes. how ironic, you thought. blonde hair and blue eyes, if he were a girl, he definitely would be miss universe. but god knew that he would be too powerful if he was a woman.

before you even checked his profile, you saw that he already messaged you. he already had big plus, because it was usually you who needed to start a conversation.

‘you & me, beer in an hour?’ okay, he definitely was really straightforward but you couldn’t tell that you didn’t liked it.

‘okay’

it was an irresponsible decision, but you couldn’t care less right now. you were truly tried of the endless conversations about nothing, you needed some adrenaline in your life. and even if it turn out that he’s a murderer, you will have an interesting story to tell your future kids — of course if you will survive in that scenario.

, , ,

it was almost twenty minutes after the set time, but you still waited like a fool, because you were curious if you were just scammed at this point. when your second cigarette started to slowly gutter out, you checked your phone to see if he tried to inform you about his lateness, but as you thought — nothing. you were honestly irritated that you couldn’t met a proper guy, not even for a relationship but just good sex, apparently you just missed to have someone close, in physical and mental way.

fuck it. you said to yourself and deleted this stupid dating app, right after you did that, you heard someone’s calling your name. before you turned around, you throw out a cigarette.

“i get it that i’m late, but you don’t have to ignore me” you saw the blonde guy in front of you, with two bottles of wine in his hands and two beer cans in his jeans pockets.

“so your real miss universe, nice to meet you” you said with a bit of irony in your voice, and he just laughed, giving you bootle of alcohol.

“or maybe i’m just in your imagination, guess we will never know” he said with smile, and you realised that he loved to laugh a lot, but honestly that was exactly what you needed now. some positive energy. “but now let’s go, shall we?”

, , ,

at first it was supposed to be quick meeting to get each other better and then probably forget about the existence of each other. but to your surprise it turned out that you were sitting in some sketchy looking place with joost for almost four hours already, and the fun only began.

you couldn’t believe that your perfect type of person was right in front of you and he was interested in you, which was the most unbelievable part. he was the first person that could make you laugh only by saying something random, or maybe it was because you were under the influence of weed, that you just smoked. either way his ability to turn every little thing into a joke was hilarious and you simply loved it.

suddenly you both became silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable for you, which was also something new. all you could hear was the sound of wind and some other birds but you decided to interrupt the silence.

“you want to come to my place?” you said without thinking twice, well. . . let’s be honest your brain wasn’t working at all at the moment.

“to do what?” he looked at you with his typical smirk, sipping his beer.

“obviously to play monopoly” you said sarcastically, but underneath you had a little smile. “i want you to fuck me” you added and he seemed to be taken aback with your directness, as he watched you getting up.

“so you’re coming or i will need to please myself on my own?” you said, walking slowly in the direction of your house.

“you don’t need to tell me twice” he quickly said and you just chuckled as you felt his hands on your waist.

that was a great match, for sure.

, , ,

⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! hope you liked it!

[achilles-rage]

NSFW Alphabet

evan buckley x plus size!reader

A/N: hi besties<333 this is my first time writing so pls don’t absolutely tear me to shreds (just a little bit is acceptable though). i’m planning on making a SFW alphabet for buck soon as well but some of the letters had me drawing a blank lol. also, although there’s not really much mention of it, this is with a plus size reader in mind. as a plus size girly myself, it sucks to read x reader stories and knowing in the back of your mind that it wasn’t written with your body type in mind (although there’s nothing wrong with writers that do that of course). i just thought i would add to the plus size reader community because there are barely any buck fics and i believe in my heart that he loves plus size women. anyway, enjoy <3

MDNI- 18+ Only

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When y’all finish he’ll wait a few minutes before pulling out, head buried in your neck as his breathing gets back to normal. He’ll kiss your neck and tell you how good you were for him, before finally getting up to clean you up. After that he wants to lay with you and talk, just enjoying each other’s company, maybe y’all will make some food if you feel like it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His: Probably his arms. He’s worked hard to be as fit as he is and he enjoys using his arms to move you/lift you while you’re having sex. He takes pride in his appearance, he knows he’s hot, but it’s an added bonus that he can lift you up and do whatever he (or you) wants.

Yours: I am of the firm belief that Evan Buckley is a thigh man. He loves how they feel in his hands, he loves how they look when you straddle him, he can’t get enough. He loves to see them jiggle when you move, or when he playfully smacks them. He loves thick thighs and I will die on this hill

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man has a BREEDING KINK OKAY!!! He loves to cum inside you, fucking deep into you and feeling his cum fill you up. He loves watching it slowly dripping out, so he can finger it back in. If that’s not your thing I think the next best place would be on your stomach, watching your face as he lets go, seeing the way he marks you up. He loves your little tummy, how it moves as he ruts into you, so he loves it when you let him cum all over it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I only call this a dirty secret because he would never tell anyone about this after the last time it happened and he got fired. He wants to fuck you in the fire engine SO BAD. He can’t help but think of the way you would look as he fucked into you quickly, trying not to get caught with your dress up around your waist. He knows it’s not gonna happen, he’d never hear the end of it from anyone in his life if it did, but god he wants to so bad.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Girl have we watched the same show?? This man FUCKS!!! We all know (and love) Buck 1.0, and we know he knows what to do. Buck 3.0 might mean him changing into, well, not a sex addict, but that doesn’t mean he forgot his training (🫡). I think he understands that every woman is different, and while he might not get it exactly right the first time, he’s a fast and eager learner, watching what exactly makes you squirm and moan the most for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Canonically, Buck LOVES when you ride him, and I agree. He loves to watch you move yourself on him, able to grab at your thighs, and your hips, and your chest. He also loves to move you on him, squeezing your hips tightly as he sets the pace if you start getting tired or if he just feels like it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I mean, he’s Buck, he’s truly a golden retriever of a man and cannot stay serious for long. I think he’s a bit of a mix, he can be serious in the moment, but at the end of the day, he’s still Buck, and Buck is silly goofy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it nicely trimmed, carpets match the drapes. In terms of his partner, he really doesn’t give a fuck. He’s seen it all and could not care less as long as he feels the way you wrap around him so perfectly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Buck 3.0 is a man of TASTE, but that being said, I think he only really pulls out the romance during special occasions. Most of the time this man wants to freak nasty, but sometimes when he’s tired, or just feels especially in cuddly/clingy, he’ll be more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it pretty often, of course not when he has the option to fuck you instead (and you’re willing, of course), but if you’re not with him and he needs a quick release, he getting right to it.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: I will scream this till the day that I die, this man wants a family more than anything. Whenever he’s inside of you, he can’t help but think about how pretty you’d look with your belly all round with his babies.

Praise: Look at this pathetic little guy, he needs to be praised, he thrives on it. He loves to hear how good he feels, how good he’s making you feel. This goes both ways. He’s in your ear immediately telling you how good you feel, how well you’re taking him, how pretty you look.

Spanking: HEAR ME OUT!! While I’m not sure he would actually bend you over his knee (but honestly the more I think about it he might) he would LOVE to give your ass a nice little swat as you’re riding him. He loves the sound it makes, and the sound you make because you’re not expecting it. I don’t think he’d ever do it hard enough to hurt too much, but I think enough to make your ass a little red would definitely be something he could get behind (lol).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t have a ring cutter in the kitchen for nothing<3

I think he likes to have sex at home the most, on the bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counter. You name it, he wants to fuck you there. His favourite is the counter because he loves seeing you being so domestic in the kitchen. Making dinner, cleaning up, whatever, he wants you right then and there and cannot wait. He’ll come up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kisses your neck before slowly turning you around to face him and lift you onto the counter to have his way with you.

While he’s moved on from having sex in public places that could (will) get him fired, he’s still into it, but in less obvious places. If y’all are in his car and you’re looking a little too good in his passenger seat, he loves an empty parking lot quickie. Front seat, back seat, whatever you want, he’d be pulling you onto him as soon as he puts the jeep in park.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Girl ANYTHING gets him going, it would take one look, one touch, one word and this man would be ready to go. I think what really gets him going though is seeing you with kids or getting along so well with the 118. This man truly just wants a silly little family and someone that can get along with the 118fam, so seeing you like that has him making up a stupid excuse to leave a little early so he can take you home and have his hands all over you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Like I said before, I don’t think he would do anything to hurt you too much, other than the occasional light spanking or biting. He would also not be into any kind of age play or pet play, he’s pro kink but it’s just not for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man is a giver and I stand by this. Dear god he loves nothing more than having you spread open for him, hands tangled in his hair as he makes himself at home between your thighs. He loves having his hands gripping your thick thighs, feeling them on either side of his head. When you start to get squirmy from the overstimulation he’ll place a large hand over your lower stomach, holding you still as he pushes you over the edge again.

With all that said, he will definitely not say no to getting head. He loves seeing you look up at him while you’re on your knees, trying to take all of him. He’ll keep a hand in your hair, pulling it softly every now and then, and he can’t help but moan and whine as he gets closer and closer, eventually cumming down your throat as he squeezes his eyes shut.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the day, but most of the time he likes it rough and fast. He loves a good quickie, meaning it kinda has to be more fast paced and rough, and he’s pretty easy to get riled up, so when you drop any sort of hint, he’s on you immediately and ready. On other days where he’s feeling extra clingy and lovey, he’ll be more of a slow and sensual guy, but I think for the most part he loves to fuck you deep and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Like I said, he loves a good quickie. A lot of the time he craves a quickie before work, needing to feel you before his long shift. I think they happen pretty often, but he’d much rather take his time with you, using his fingers and mouth before he fucks you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as there’s clear communication he’s down to try pretty much anything, he’ll do anything to make you happy (within reason). I think he’s also a risk taker (also within reason, he has to think about not getting fired again, of course). Buck 1.0 is still inside him somewhere when it comes to sex so he definitely loves a little risk, but he’s grown enough to know where the line is.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While he would love to go as many rounds as possible, I think it would realistically be 2-3, lasting about 10-15 minutes each round. I think he would be the type to like having some time between rounds, tension still high as you talk and lay around before he's back on you again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Once again, he doesn’t have a ring cutter in his kitchen for nothing<3

He likes them, he definitely owns a few toys of his own. Vibrators, cock rings, some handcuffs or restraints, he’s very open to anything that increases y’alls pleasure.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does it sometimes not really meaning to, like he does something and you’re like….dear god…and maybe he doesn’t notice the first time but the second time he does and WILL keep going until you snap. He loves the way you get all squirmy and whiny and desperate for him, knowing you want him as much as he wants you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

So vocal!!!! Literally that meme thats like “y’all afraid to make noise in the bedroom?? i be in my girls ear like…” He loves dirty talk (on both ends) and he can’t help but let out low moans when you’re clenching around him. He also loves hearing your breathless whimpers, making him feel like he’s doing a good job, and encouraging him to pull more sounds from your lips.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

If he was in a relationship during the whole sperm donor thing, it would be the longest few weeks for both of y’all. I imagine the first time he has an appointment, you make sure you’re waiting for him in a cute little matching set, knowing how excited he was to finally be buried inside you again, hearing you whine as he fills you up. He’s so frustrated when his appointment doesn’t work out that he doesn’t let you know how it went, instead being unpleasantly surprised when he sees you sprawled out on his bed when you get home and unable to do anything about it. He wants nothing more than to rip your pretty little set off your body and run his hands up and down your soft curves, but he can’t, and it’s torture. You apologize (but he will hear none of it because it was a lovely surprise, just shitty circumstances), and instead you change into an oversized shirt and sweatpants to enjoy a completely normal (and not sexual at all) night on the couch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches, thick, no complaints <3

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH!!! This man is thinking about sex 24/7, and if he could, his hands would be on you at all times.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time I think he stays up for a while, just hanging out and talking to you. But if he comes home after a long shift he’s fucking GONE in 5 minutes tops.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[bitethedevil]

How do you think Raphael would react to feeling loved (not even necessarily in a romantic way—it could also be him feeling appreciated and loved platonically)?

Raphael and Love

(As always, these are just my interpretations of him. It’s dark, but I trust that you have read my “ask”-section and knew it probably would be beforehand anyway. I feel like I’ve made a post about Raphael and love before, but I can’t find it anywhere, so I’m using your ask for it. Hope that’s alright <3)

He would love it. He’d bask in it. He would get addicted to it so fast and it would fascinate him. Not in any healthy or soft way though, far from it. Your love is a tool that is to be explored and exploited for his own pleasure and morbid curiosity, platonic or not.

Testing limits

Ah, so you say you love him: Are you sure about that? If you really do love him, how far are you willing to go? If you truly loved him, surely, he could do whatever he wanted with you, right? He would constantly test your adoration to him, and each little line that you let him cross only means that he will go even further the next time. I am not talking about just ‘making you jealous’ or something like that. I am talking truly abusive and horrible shit. He will literally not stop until he knows that you would literally suffer the worst torments, die, and kill for him.

Making up

What happens then when you snap? He is definitely the type to lovebomb someone and effectively winning them back with all he has got. It is him loosening and tightening the leash. He would give back all that love you craved in return for yours…Until he knows he has got you and then it is back to dissecting you for weaknesses again, like a child seeing how many limbs they can pull off an insect before it dies.

Jealousy and ownership

You are his property. He won’t accept anyone even looking or thinking about you. If possible, keeping you locked away from everything else is the ideal. Why would you need to see other people, if you allegedly loved him more than anyone else? Isolation, control, full attention on him…

It’s the same thing when it comes to affection and intimacy. It will be very dependent on what he wants and likes. I don’t believe it would be entirely one-sided though. He will still touch you and make you feel good, but more in the way that one explores a new and expensive toy to see how it works, and it will be transactional. He never does a thing in his life without wanting something in return.

Love

It’s complicated. He loves your love. He loves the attention and adoration. He craves it. But again, you are a tool for him to get that love. He has no problems molding and shaping you into what he wants, because it can always be better. Look at the House of Hope: everything he owns is shaped in his own image and for his specific needs, and you will be too. Unconditional love is not a part of his vocabulary.

Obsession and dogs and cars

Raphael is just like his daddy when it comes to obsession. It’s hyperfixation. He will get obsessed with someone who gives him the adoration he thinks he deserves, and he will want every bit of it that he can squeeze out of you. He will lose himself completely in it. But. He ‘likes when people put up a fight’ and he likes puzzles, like Korrilla says. You are a puzzle to him. Once you have endured all his excruciating tests with flying colors and he has molded, broken, and shaped you into what he wants, the puzzle is over and things start to get boring. You start to get boring, and Raphael is not a man who lets himself be bored. It is like a dog chasing a car.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[cosyvelvetorchid]

prompt word for you: brother

fluffy if you please

A smidge more Tommy than Bucktommy but I hope you like it. Thank you 🩶

*****

Tommy was sitting on the bench at the edge of the patio just watching everybody. It was Athena and Bobbys housewarming party at their new house. It had taken 8 months for them to find a new house and everybody they loved had been invited.

Still, Tommy felt a little out of place. Evan loved him deeply—something he the still had to pinch himself about— and there hadn’t been anything anybody else had done, or said, to make him feel like he wasn’t part of the family. But he still felt like he didn’t deserve his place within it.

Things were great between him and both Hen and Chimney—they’d forgiven him a long time ago for his past behaviours. And Bobby had made it clear to him how much he approved of Tommy. Even Eddie had told him how happy he was that Buck had found someone like him.

But if he truly thought about it, he was scared. He’d experienced some semblance of the family atmosphere when Bobby first joined the 118 and he’d felt happier than he had been under Gerrard. But he’d left for the 217 before it turned into what it was today.

The irony is he yearned for the type of family in front of him—the family that were eagerly trying to welcome him with open arms. But it had happened so quickly that he’d barely had a chance to gain his footing.

He’d spent so long in his life hoping for what was in front of him, but never actually believing he’d get it, but that he was worthy of getting it. He was terrified of belonging. If he belonged and it went wrong, he’d be alone again.

He’d only just started to believe that he had a future with Evan. Adding in other people in the mix for him to care about meant more potential for hurt.

“You okay there Tommy?” Chim sat down beside him.

“Uh, yeah.” He said.

“Really? People who are okay don’t hide away on the sidelines.” Chimney told him.

Tommy scoffed. Chimney was right. Asshole.

“I don’t know, it’s just.. all this?” He gestured to everyone, “I guess im having a hard time fitting in.”

Chimney furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean.. you guys are a family. I feel like I’m not worthy of that, ya know.”

“Tommy.” Chimney said in a slightly admonishing tone. “First of all Buck loves you, okay? And given that he’s literally my family now, means you’re my family too.”

“Secondly?”

“Secondly, the 118 will always be a family. Whether you’re past, present or future. You can take the man out of the 118, but you can’t take the 118 out of the man. I know we had our issues back when I first joined, but all that is way in the past. We’re brothers, Tommy. Always will be.”

Tommy’s throat felt thick with emotion. Evan had told him as such many times, and though he believed that Evan believed it to be true, something about hearing it from Chimney directly made him really believe it.

“Thanks, Howie.”

“Anytime.” Chim replied. “So how is it going with our Buckeroo?”

Tommy smiled fondly as he watching Buck play with Jee-Yun; a giant grin plastered all over his boyfriend’s face. “Well, if it carries on going the way it currently is, it won’t be long before we’re brothers in law

[ctimenefic]

don't like a gold rush

sometimes you watch a video of James Vowles calling Alex special and your mind goes blank and three weeks later you have 6k

everlasting thanks to @latecomersprivilege for cheerleading, proofreading, and encouraging my crimes

don't like a gold rush Rated Explicit Fandom F1 RPF Pairing Alexander Albon/George Russell 5,951 words In which Alex having a good boss for once drives George absolutely mad.

First part below:

James Vowles is the best thing that could have happened for Williams. Well, the best in 2023, second overall - second to signing Alex. George truly believes that, has said it often, loudly, to anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby with a microphone. Even as the spectre of getting caught in the Albon DRS train gets ever closer, even as the W14 lets him down at every turn, he’s still got a massive soft spot for his old team. He wants the best for them. He wants the best for Alex.

And James as a boss is everything Horner wasn’t, as far as George can tell. Even-tempered. Even-handed. Kind. George has been in the Mercedes orbit long enough to see that. James wasn’t the type to talk down to a fourteen-year-old touring a garage with eyes like saucers. Instead he offered a steadiness even Toto couldn’t match. His good opinion had been worth having, and George had fought to get it.

He likes James, for Christsakes.

So, it’s something of a surprise to find himself grinding his teeth as Alex gets second-beer tipsy and starts waxing poetic about what a difference he’s made to the team.

They’ve got a small table at the back of a footie pub in London, where not a single regular is under 60 and clearly no one gives two shits about Formula One. It’s not built for tall men; their knees jam up against each other. George is slightly too warm in his jumper and coat, prickles of heat across the back of his shoulders. And his molars ache as Alex keeps going on about bloody James Vowles.

“Some of it’s the car, obviously, and the calendar,” Alex is saying, too media-trained to not add context and caveats in any declaration, “but James is just- like, no offence to Jost, but- he gets it. It’s like we’re all going in the same direction. Points aren’t a fucking miracle anymore, it’s expected, but not in a bad way, you know?”

“Don’t rule out the driver,” George adds, because he’s pathetic, really, weak for the indulgent eyeroll and grin Alex throws him to hide the genuine pleased flush of a compliment. And, because, well. It can’t all be James.

He’s not blind to the fact Alex has dragged Williams higher than he ever managed. And yes, it’s a different car, a different set up, but Alex is fucking quick, and it’s about time someone else noticed.

“No, but really, it’s- Look, I’m not saying it’s perfect, I’m sure Logan has something to say about his contract renewal, but I’ve never had a boss who takes care of the team like he does. It’s nice,” Alex finishes, with that half-shrug he adopts to couch his opinions in nonchalance. George knows him too well to fall for it.

Something hot and slick and sour coats the inside of his chest cavity, roiling up from his belly. He necks the rest of his pint before it can escape over his tongue. “He takes care of you?” he manages, and it almost sounds normal, squeezed out of his throat like that, everything else trapped behind his teeth.

A glint comes into Alex’s eye. “I’m sure it’s not the full Toto Wolff experience-”

“Piss off.”

“-holidaying together, sharing a crossword, father-son fishing trips-”

“Piss off!”

“But, yeah. Logan more, obviously, he needs it more. But- you know after Silverstone, after you pointed out the shoulder thing, he had them look at the seat again? That kind of thing.”

Of course George remembers Silverstone. He’d joked about it, under the watchful eyes of the press and a Williams PR woman who knew him far too well, because Alex hated when George made a sincere fuss, but he could just about get away with taking the piss.

It’s good, he reminds himself, that James doesn’t want the car to shake his drivers to pieces. But that doesn’t stop the sudden blinding vision of James pressing a bandage against Alex’s skin.

George had done it, back in the summer, when Alex had tripped on their run and the jerk of the fall had reopened the scar from the seat. George had only had these stupid Superdrug plasters, all too small, so he’d had to line three up, carefully overlap them and smooth them down so they wouldn’t ruck up into a mess when Alex rolled his shoulders. Alex had said he was making too much of a fuss then as well, but he’d shivered as George ran a thumb around the edge of each plaster to check the seal.

It hadn’t been normal for George, obviously, having his best mate half-naked in his bathroom, the mirror too big for comfort, all of his face there to be seen as he touched Alex’s skin. But. But the thought of James doing the same makes George’s fingers tighten on his glass. And he knows, logically, that it didn’t happen; that Williams has a medic, that Alex has a trainer, that there’s half a dozen people on the team who take care of Alex. Who have that in their job descriptions.

He just- Christ. He wants it to be him.

“I’m glad, mate,” he lies. Swallows. Makes himself hold Alex’s gaze when he responds with his ducked-head smile. But he nudges the conversation on so he doesn’t have to keep lying, swaps the wildest rumours he can with Alex’s - Charles to Red Bull, Lewis to Ferrari, Fernando collecting a seat on every team like he’s filling out a Pokedex. The caustic burn lingers in the back of his throat, despite four pints and a packet of crisps. Read the rest on AO3

[euphorial-docx]

ok so i have something to say about opev:

it’s okay to be sad that the ending of the first fic wasn’t jegulus endgame. it’s sad, i know— that’s why i tagged it as bittersweet, because there’s a whole lot of bitter that goes with a whole lot of sweet.

but comments like this?

these are just fucking mean.

and yeah i’m posting your comments here. if you can comment this openly in my comments section, then it shouldn’t be a problem to have your words displayed here too.

first of all, this is a call me by your name au. it is going to follow the cmbyn plot structure, and it was explicitly stated in the fic that it would follow that plot structure.

as i said, you can be sad all you want, but you can’t say you were shocked or tricked, when you know the source material i was working with and following pretty closely.

i never tagged opev as a happy ending. i never tagged it as endgame jegulus. i never tagged it as jily because lily isn’t even in the fic at all. but i did specify in the story that james would leave, that regulus had no interest in pursing a relationship with james after that summer, that james and lily were romantically involved at one point and that regulus assumed they would get back together eventually, and i tagged it as bittersweet and assured that there would be a sequel, and further assured multiple times that the sequel would be a happy ending/jegulus endgame.

if you are shocked, you did not read my fic.

forgive me for being defensive, and forgive me for being a little angry, but i’ve gotten one too many comments of that nature. i don’t want to be doing this, believe me.

i love seeing comments, i love interacting with you guys and having really beautiful and heartfelt conversations with you about my writing— it truly brightens my day to see any inbox notifications at all— but when i see comments like this? when the only comment i get for a whole week or month is something like this? it makes me feel like shit, and that’s not what i want fanfic writing to be for me. that’s not the community i want to foster or be involved in or put in months of work for.

because it was months of work for free. months of work for my own enjoyment, and for yours, and to share things that i love with people that love it too— it wasn’t an entire year of my life to have someone leave a rude comment on my fic’s epilogue without even fucking reading it.

and i know i sound so angry right now, but i am. i am angry and i am honestly really sad, because it doesn’t feel good to get those comments and it doesn’t feel good to be typing this all out. i hate being angry. i hate being mean. but i tried to be nice about it, i tried to explain my reasons for my tagging and for my creative decisions, and still this happens.

i just… i really don’t get it. i don’t get why people comment these things. you get nothing out of writing those mean comments, and maybe i’m sensitive, but i just get hurt out of reading those comments.

and again, it’s okay to be sad about the ending. i know i’ve cried over it before myself. but it’s not okay to be angry at me for it, it’s not okay to disrespect me like that. because you’re not just ridiculing some fic, you’re ridiculing the real person who wrote it.

at the end of the day, i love writing fanfiction. i love being here. i don’t want that to get lost in all the other things i’ve said.

i don’t want fanfiction to be about this, okay? so let’s not make it about this.

please and thank you.

[dw19791967]

That Type of Girl Part 5

Pairing: Dean x reader, Sam x reader (Platonic)

Warnings: language, unrequited love, slight angst, mentions of self-hate, fluff, chick flick moments.

This is the fifth fic I have ever written, all mistakes are my own. Please be gentle on me!

____________________________

“No, I’m not sure if you do sweetheart you see, the thing is I’m pretty sure I am in love with you.”

I was in shock. What in the actual hell is happening. Of course I have dreamed of this moment ever since I could remember. I just don’t understand why he is telling me this now. 

I sat there with my mouth open, in shock.

“Well say something sweetheart, you got me freaking out here.” Dean looked at me with worried eyes.

“Dean, I mean I’m flattered truly, I just don’t understand where this is coming from. We’ve been friends forever and of course I love you. I’m just shocked I guess.” I looked at him with tears in my eyes. And of course this situation is made more awkward by the fact that I’m still holding my shirt over my boobs. 

“I almost lost you today, I went insane not knowing if you were ok. And I’m tired of hiding how I really feel about you. You are the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I close my eyes at night. I love you Y/N, and I have for a long time now. You make me laugh at stupid things, you make me smile more than I ever did before I met you, you're beautiful not only on the outside but the inside as well. God you are perfect in my eyes. And I know I’m not good enough for you, trust me I know. I have tried to push my feelings aside and do what's best for you but I can’t keep doing it anymore. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, I know you deserve better. I just couldn’t go any longer without telling you how I feel.” Dean looked at me once again, he had tears in his eyes now.

God. This man. How can he make my heart swell and break at the same time.

“Dean…. you can’t tell me I deserve better, there is no one better than you. I love you Dean and I have been in love with you for forever at this point. I just assumed we would never be more because I wasn’t that type of girl, ya know? The girl who guys want longer than a night. I mean I know we are best friends and I know you make me feel like I am beautiful. You understand me better than I understand myself.  I just don’t want things to change between us, I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you in my life.” I sighed.

“You are that type of girl Y/N. You’re my girl. You are beautiful, you never judge me for my flaws. Why would I judge yours?” Dean held my chin in his hands.

I smiled at him.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked me with hope in his eyes.

Oh God, here we go. 

“Yes, you can definitely do that.” I bit my lip. Of course I was nervous, this is Dean Freaking Winchester. My kissing skills are for sure not up to par with his. 

Dean moved in closer. His lips met mine and it felt better than I ever imagined. He moved his lips against mine. We stayed like that until we were both out of breath. 

When we parted he kissed my forehead. 

“I love you Y/N whether you are dolled up to the hills or are lounging in your leggings. There is nothing you can do that would change that.” Dean looked at me with a smile on his face. 

“I love you, always have always will.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. “Now if you don’t mind, I am going to go put my shirt back on. You distracted me.” I moved towards the bathroom.

“Hey no compliments from me if you choose not to.” He winked at me. 

“Yeah but I don’t think your brother would like that.” I laughed.

“Oh shit, I forgot about him. You go get dressed, I’ll call and check in with the giant.” 

I could hear Dean on the phone once I moved into the bathroom. 

________________________

I stayed in the bathroom for a few minutes. I looked at myself in the mirror. I still can’t believe this is happening. What is going to happen now? How are things going to change? I’m officially freaking out. I put my shirt back on and threw some leggings on. My cuts were feeling better now. 

I headed back out to the room.

“Yeah man just hurry it up we're starving. You better have got pie.” Dean hung up when I walked back over to my bed.

“I can tell you are overthinking, what’s up?” Dean sat down by me.

“What’s gonna happen now? How are we going to tell Sam? Whose room are we gonna share? How are we gonna work together on hunts?” I started rambling off everything running through my mind, which is pretty typical of what I do when I’m nervous.

He reached out to hold my hands. “Hey hey, slow down. Nothings gonna change sweetheart, besides me calling you my girl and kissing you whenever I want. I promise. Sam already knows I am head over heels for you, so don’t worry about that. As for hunts, we both already cared about each other. We are just taking it a step further. I promise I’ll keep it professional while we are hunting. My room has the bigger bed but if you are more comfortable in yours that is fine with me. I will do whatever you need. We can take this slow too, I don’t want to rush you into anything you aren’t ready for. Ok?” 

“God I love you.” I reached up to kiss him. I felt him smile into the kiss. 

This man is willing to do what I need. I have never had a relationship where my needs were truly put first. He knew this would be a big step for me like I knew it would be a big step for him. 

I pulled away to look into his eyes. He truly seemed happy. That is how I knew this was going to work and everything would be ok.

“Your plan sounds perfect. Thank you for caring.” I smiled at him. 

“Of course, you know I am always going to care.” He hugged me and peppered kisses all along my face. We stayed like that for a bit.

________________________

The door opened. Sam was finally back.

“Ok. I got burgers, fries, pie, and more beer.” Sam walked in the door with his hands full.

He noticed Dean holding me. “Woah, what’s wrong.” Sam looked to Dean.

“Nothing Sammy, we're perfect.” Dean kissed my forehead again. His forehead kisses are gonna do me in.

“So you finally told him huh?” Sam winked at me.

“Actually I told her but we’ve already been through the chick flick moments. Sorry you missed it little bro.” Dean got up to grab our food. Dean patted Sam on the back. 

“Damn, well I am happy for you both. No more staring at each other and trying not to get caught.” Sam laughed. 

“Oh don’t worry Sammy, there will still be plenty of staring.” Dean looked at me and I started to blush. 

Damn this man. 

“Oh and Sammy, one more thing.” Dean was digging through the bags.

“You forgot the pie.”

Dean was right, things won’t change. I have a feeling they might actually get better.

Tag List:

@hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

@pandasrdbest2341

[rainbowlemonslices]

I hope you learn to listen to science. I genuinely wholeheartedly hope that your experience hasn't harmed you if you truly are a system. Trauma is tough, I hope you find peace.

Endos may be scientifically impossible, and the endo community has done horrible things to the system community as a whole, but I truly do hope you are okay, regardless of being horribly misinformed.

omg our first hate ask! our blog is big enough for that, yippee! /s

violet here! okay, so normally i wouldn’t respond to this kind of thing very intensely because honestly we don’t like getting into syscourse much. however, this is a good time and place to put our stance on things, as well as answer this ask anyways. (everything is going below the cut now since it is a bit long)

okay so first of all, i wanna address the fact that you are implying that we’ve had trauma, and this isn’t really true. sure we’ve had a few scary events and whatnot from when we were younger, but we don’t really have trauma. our family is and was, for the most part, kind and caring as well, and hasn’t informed us of any traumatic events.

back when we thought we were traumagenic, as it was the only type of system we had known of at the time, we were stumped on one thing. where our trauma was. and believe me when i say we dug and dug and dug, trying to find anything that would be traumatic. it became a major life focus, made us paranoid, and made us feel horrible that we hadn’t found anything. we tried to force memories that didn’t exist. starting becoming scared of things that had never happened to us. tried to reason that fictive exomemories must be telling us something about our past trauma. and yet, we found nothing.

so, despite having no trauma whatsoever, we still felt all of these things. we were scared, and felt horribly like frauds. during therapy sessions about plurality, we shared almost nothing because we were scared that because we couldn’t find our trauma, that we couldn’t be real. we were told by both the therapist and our mom that our headmates were not real. cyan started to push us away in fear. headmates began to hide themselves away too. even our happy littles, who are the whole reason we know we’re plural, hid. the only two people near the front were cyan and purple. both of them were screaming and crying at each other. cyan told purple to go away because e “wasn’t real”. purple broke, and after months of feeling so happy together, we broke apart, feeling more empty than before.

and yet, the headmates never really left. we continued to show up, even though many of us were in denial about being real. we are still there, a long time after being told we didn’t exist. we still experience changes in who controls the body, contrasting likes and dislikes, very different personalities from each other. we were still there.

so, we eventually stumbled onto the term endogenic, and things just kind of clicked. hearing that we are a system, even though it wasn’t caused by trauma was life changing. finally, we started to feel whole, we started to feel like we understood and belonged. we realized that we are still real, and much more real than we were when we were digging for trauma that didn’t exist. that’s how we know we’re real. we know our own experiences, and one person telling us that we’re “scientifically impossible” and doing “horrible things to the system community” isn’t going to change that fact that we exist.

however, i’m not done yet. you happened to say that endos are “scientifically impossible” and doing “horrible things to the system community”, as previously mentioned. however, these claims aren’t really very true.

firstly, i would love if you could provide me some actual evidence that endogenic systems can’t exist, since you are the one making such a claim. secondly, some evidence for endos being harmful would also be great as well.

thing number one, here is an article that is commonly brought up in endo related debates that i could not leave out. i suggest you check it out and give it a good read. since it is a source that mostly speaks for itself, i will simply let you read the many pages worth of information on endogenic systems.

in addition to that, here is another article i found on my own time, and while it is not particularly about endogenic systems, i felt it was informative regardless. i would like to preface this by saying i am not exact a fan of this article, as there were some parts that i didn’t like how it was written and what not, but it is a third person perspective, neutral group, with no bias. if i am reading it correctly (which i really do hope i am, though sometimes i do fail on my reading comprehension), the article is about the ties in plurality and other identities, as well as making comparisons in traumagenic plurality versus other pluralities, tulpas and endos. primarily, the comparison section is about tulpas and traumagenic, and i am not well educated on those, so i will be leaving that part at that. what i’m primarily here to call out is the way it describes how similar the experiences and symptoms are noted from both traumagenic systems and nontraumagenic systems, as well as the segments where it states that many traumagenic systems may not meet all the criteria’s for a diagnosis. i bring this up because it seems as if some anti endos think that to be plural you MUST fit all of the diagnostic criteria AND be traumagenic, when this does not appear to be true. the DSM is NOT a holy text, and scientists discover new things quite frequently.

for you last point, i’m a bit confused on where you’re getting that the endo community has “done horrible things to the system community as a whole”. i have never seen that before, and that is an incredibly bold claim to make without presenting any evidence of this happening. since i’m not exactly sure what you are talking about, or what you mean by “horrible things”, i will just says that endos are not harming the plural community. for starters, “plural” is a term that INCLUDES endos, and i believe it was MADE for this purpose (however i currently cannot find the source for this information, i have seen it many times). so, by pushing endos away, the PLURAL community is being harmed. i since i assume you are equating traumagenic to DID/OSDD (which i believe are not the same, but i am unsure of where any sources on that are either), i would also like to inform you that i have NEVER seen an endogenic system claim to have DID or OSDD. endogenic systems are NOT inherently claiming to be a disordered system. we are NOT taking away from traumagenic systems.

that being said, i would LOVE to inform you that we ARE okay, and are doing quite well as we are becoming informed on endogenic systems. thank you for your time to anyone who read this!

also please let me know if i said anything stupid, or messed up! i have no idea if i’m doing this right at all! i’ve never really done syscourse like this before so this is a first! (and please let me know if the second source is bad, since i bet someone is much better at reading and breaking down those types of studies and articles)

[philaet0s]

Celebrity/Social Media AU - Part 12

Previous Part: Part 11

Next Part: Part 13

So, what happened on August 4th? ;)

Simon

I’m not surprised when Baz approaches me and says he has something he wants to show me. He’s been eyeing me weirdly all day. I knew he was hiding something…

I follow him to his study. It’s one of the nicest rooms in our flat, and definitely the one I spend the least time in. He never truly forbade me from coming here, even when he’s away on tour, but everything about that room is so… Baz. It’s his place. It’d feel wrong intruding on it. 

Still, I always love having a chance to come inside it. One of the walls is completely covered by bookshelves, that are so full I’m surprised they still hold up. There are books piled on tops of other books everywhere, and yet, somehow, he still always has room for new ones, without ever getting rid of any of them. The wall that is opposite the door has a large window that lets in tons of natural light and that. On a summer evening such as this, the setting sun paints the room in golden hues.

Against the last wall, there is a vinyl shelf, as full as Baz’s bookshelf, and topped with a record player that cost a fortune. There’s also a desk, with a monitor, tower, and very good speakers. And Baz’s macbook. Because in spite of the other equipment, he remains faithful to the laptop that got him through uni. It’s his longest relationship, I might get jealous one day.

Obviously, all of Baz’s stuff is wonderful, and some people would probably delight in the selection of books and vinyls, but my favourite element in this room is absolutely none of that. It’s the couch in the middle of it. A gorgeous piece of furniture, in dark green velvet, and the most comfortable sofa ever. Baz knows how much I love it so he bought the same one for our living room, but somehow, it’s different.

Naturally, the first thing I do when coming inside the room is sprawl on the couch. It makes Baz smile.

“So,” I say. “What did you want to show me?”

“It’s on my computer,” he explains, as he bends over his desk chair to type something on the keyboard. “I’ve reworked the song I played for you on your birthday.”

I perk up.

“Oh? And we’re listening to it here, not at the studio?”

“I don’t feel like going all the way to the studio, if I’m honest. Don’t want to change out of my inside clothes,” he says with a chuckle.

I give him a long, appreciative look. His inside clothes are a simple t-shirt, too large for him, and an old pair of football shorts. I love when he wears his football shorts. They make his legs look even longer. They make his arse look phenomenal too but sadly the shirt hides that.

I get up from the couch and walk behind him until I can put my arms around his waist. I lean down to kiss his shoulder. 

“Fair. I don’t really want to leave the house either, to be honest.”

“We’re so boring. And lazy.”

“You’re on a world tour and I wake up at 3 every morning to go to work, we’re allowed to be a bit lazy.”

“Hm, you’re right. Ah, there it is.”

He clicks on a file named ‘Point of View (After Midnight Version)’. I hadn’t even asked the title of the song last time… 

He straightens his back, so I line my body up with his and press my cheek between his shoulder blades to hold him close. 

The beginning of the song is the same, I think. I’ve only heard it once over a month ago so I don’t remember it very well, but I’m not hearing anything particularly striking.

Until…

One of my hands flies up to my mouth. I gasp.

“Baz.”

His index finger is tapping on the desk. Not for the rhythm, this time. He’s nervous.

“I can’t believe… Fuck. That’s… so hot,” I whisper, as obscene sounds continue to play as background vocals for the chorus. It’s subtle, an echo, but it can definitely be heard. 

That has to be something he got from what he… recorded when we were at the studio. Jesus.

He pauses the song. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or if you’d think it was… too much.”

I shake my head vigorously. He can’t see me but he must feel it.

“It’s not too much. I mean. It is. But in a good way. A really good way, darling. I… I love it,” I say, tightening my arms around him to let him know I’m truly not mad. 

My cheeks are burning. He used a recording of us fucking as background vocals for one of his songs. A song he wrote just for me. 

“We sound so… Do you still have the recording?”

He shifts in my arms to look at me. He’s cocking his damn eyebrow. He has no business looking hot like that.

“Why?”

“Why do you think? I want to listen to it.”

“You want to listen to…”

“Us fucking? Yes, Basilton, of course I do. You can’t be having all the fun.”

He laughs, softly, and oh God, that sound is just as good as those he put on his song.

“I still have it, yes.”

“Good.”

I let go of him and step back. I need a moment to cool down before he plays the recording. I’m not going to cool down with him in my arms. I rub my hands along the side of my thighs and take a breath. I can’t fucking believe him. How can he still surprise me?

“I found it. If you still want to…”

“Yes.”

When I look at him, I notice that he’s flushing. Embarrassment or arousal, I couldn’t say.

He presses play. I will myself to stay away from him, as tempting as it is to hold him again. 

I close my eyes and listen.

He forwards the recording. How many times did he listen to it to know when to forward it? When it starts playing again, I hear him. Familiar sounds that bring a smile to my lips. They sound different, though. The pitch of his voice is always a little different in recordings, and the sounds are at the same time more distant and more clear than when he’s making them live.

It’s also strange hearing Baz moaning when I’m standing in a middle of a room, fully clothed, and not in bed with him. Strange but not unpleasant. I can focus on it more. 

The strangest part, however, is hearing myself. That’s not something I usually focus on at all. It’s slightly embarrassing. I prefer the sounds Baz makes. They’re hotter. I wonder if he thinks the opposite. Hearing myself really does make me experience it from his ‘point of view’...

It’s a surprisingly long recording. If you’d asked me, then I probably would have told you I didn’t last more than 5 minutes –I hadn’t seen him in a while. After a bit, as enjoyable as it is, I get a little bored, so I open my eyes and look at Baz. That should keep me entertained for a minute.

His butt is on the edge of his desk but he’s not properly sitting down on it, his feet still firmly planted on the floor. His hands are holding the desk on either side of his body. His eyes are closed and his head low. It bobs as he listens to the recording. To us.

He���s hard.

Watching him is not nearly enough.

I close the distance between us. I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t open his eyes. I slide my hands up his thighs until I can close my hands around his hips. I slot my body between his legs and pull him closer.

He opens his eyes. His pupils are wide.

“Simon,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry, so different from the loud, uncontrolled sounds he’s making on the recording.

“I want to hear you for real.”

[hockey-fics]

A Simple Yes - Quinn Hughes

Summary: You truly never believed it would happen, getting pregnant before you were ready. But sometimes the things you don’t expect to happen end up being not so bad after all. 

Word Count: ~1,300

Warnings: Pregnancy

A/N: This was supposed to be way longer. I actually had another 1,500 words written for it but I was struggling to find a logical conclusion at that point so I just shortened it, I’m very sorry if it’s a disappointing ending. 

It wasn’t how you wanted to find out. Alone in the bathroom of your quiet apartment, shaky hands clutching onto a positive pregnancy test. There’s a weight on your chest and you can’t manage to draw a full breath into your lungs. Your staring at the test but it feels like you’re no longer fully there, everything felt distant and fuzzy. With shaking hands you fumble the second test out of the three pack box, taking another test before sitting on the edge of the bathtub. This time after you set the timer on your phone you don’t head to Tik Tok to kill the time. This time you set the phone on the counter, eyes staring at the floor that you realize you should have swept days ago. You couldn’t be pregnant. You couldn’t even manage to sweep the floors in your apartment. How were you supposed to be able to take care of a baby?

Your mind is still racing when the sound of the timer on your phone going off makes you jump. Slamming your hand against your phone you manage to silence the loud ringing, not caring about anything but the lines on the tiny screen of the plastic stick sitting on your counter. Delicately you pick up the test, as if jostling it around would change the results. When your eyes see the double lines your heart starts to beat so hard you begin to worry you might be nearing full on cardiac arrest. 

It’s only a matter of seconds before you toss that test into the sink with the first, ripping the last test of the box like it was your saving grace. You had absolutely no idea how you were able to pee on the third stick in such a short amount of time, but you weren’t upset about it. You go through the now familiar steps, nearly slamming the test on the counter as you set the timer. You repeat the process of spending five minutes worrying about everything and anything that came into your brain before the trilling of your phone breaks you out of it. When you pick up the test you feel your stomach drop, the two pink lines seemed to be taunting you at this point. Normally you were a pretty composed person, but as you throw the test into the sink with the other two all composure leaves your body. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter, leaning into the bathroom counter, a wave of dizziness washing over you. “Fuck,” you repeat, slamming your hand onto the cool granite with a loud smack. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought about this. You had been with Quinn for over a year and you had definitely thought about the future, about having a family with him. But that wasn’t supposed to happen for many, many years. You were supposed to be living together and married and have a dog and a picture perfect life together way before this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be finding this out together and the tears in your eyes were supposed to be from joy and not fear. 

Picking the tests from the sink you carelessly toss them into the garbage, leaving the bathroom for the first time in the last half hour. But you didn’t know what to do now. You couldn’t just text him and tell him you were pregnant, that wasn’t something you casually send to someone. Truly you just wanted a glass of wine to numb the intensity of the feelings but that was off the table now. So you stand in the hallway, staring at the gallery wall of shitty paintings you had made with your friends, each and every one of them created under the influence of alcohol or drugs. You couldn’t be a parent, not with this type of decor. 

You’re standing there, completely still, till your phone vibrates in your hand. It’s a text from Quinn and you feel an immediate wave of nausea. ‘Can’t wait to see you tomorrow’ 

He had been on the road for the last three days. The same number of days that your period was late by. You don’t even know what to say to him as you stare at your phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you hope some sort of response would pop into your brain. ‘Me too’ is all you finally manage to think of. Looking at the time you decide that 9:30 was late enough and that it would simply be easiest to put yourself to bed at this point. 

It’s 1:47pm the next day, something you know precisely because you had been watching the clock on the cable box in Quinn’s apartment for the last half hour. You had told him cable was a waste of money since he didn’t watch it but he seemed to think it was just easier to keep paying for it than cancel it. He had given you a key to his apartment a couple months ago, around the same time you had bought a few plants for him for his apartment. You weren’t convinced he really cared enough about the plants to give you a key to be able to water them when he was away, but you weren’t going to question his excuse either. 

You hear the sound of the door open but you don’t say anything, remaining silent and still till Quinn rounds the corner, jumping when he sees you sitting on the couch. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” Quinn chuckles. 

Nodding, you pull your knees even further to your chest. “We need to talk.”

Quinn is silent for a second and you can almost see the thoughts running through his head as he leans his shoulder against the wall. “Okay,” he mutters, voice cold. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he was thinking. That you wanted to break up or you had cheated on him, those were the logical conclusions after what you had just said. 

Your eyes are filling with tears as you stare at him, not having a clue about how to start this conversation. Sure, you had gone through a million and one ways this conversation could go. Yet here you were, ready to pull out any one of those million options and coming up with none. 

“What?” Quinn snaps, arms crossed over his chest and you’re almost certain your assumption was right about what he was thinking now. 

“Quinn,” you begin, voice breaking as your fingernails dig into the denim of your jeans, arms wrapped around your legs. 

“What?” he repeats, shaking his head. “You don’t want to be with me anymore?”

“No,” you croak, a couple tears dripping from your eyes and rolling down your cheeks, letting them fall onto your t-shirt. 

“You cheated on me?” Quinn pushes. 

Shaking your head you dig your fingers in further, till they were turning white and pain was radiating from your legs. “You know I would never do that.”

“Then what’s going on?” Quinn asks and his voice is softer, dropping his arms from their defensive position over his chest to his sides. 

“I-,” you begin, taking a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Quinn doesn’t say anything for long enough that you’re nearing the point where you wanted to say something for him. But eventually he does and he’s walking over to you as he does. “Pregnant?” Is all he manages to get out, but at least he’s beside you now, arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “Shit,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your head. “When, um, when did you find out?”

“Last night,” you whisper, your body relaxing the second he has his arms around you. “I took three tests.”

Quinn rubs his hand along your arm before sliding his arm under your legs and pulling them over his lap, desperately trying to get you as close to him as possible. “Okay,” he whispers. “What do you, you know, want to do?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, arms wrapped around him so tight you’re worried you might be hurting him. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to be…how I pictured it.”

Quinn doesn’t comment on how hard you were holding onto him, just rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder with his thumb. “Me neither.”

Pulling back suddenly you look into his eyes with surprise. “What do you mean? You’ve pictured this?”

Quinn nods, looking into your eyes. “What do you mean? Of course I have. I’ve told you that…that I want to spend my life with you.”

“I,” you begin, shaking your head as you try to regain some sense of composure. “I thought you were just joking, or saying that to make me happy or something.”

“That’s a really shitty thing to joke about,” Quinn chuckles, receiving a spluttering, surprised laugh from you. “Come with me,” Quinn states, standing up and taking your hands in his. His apartment isn’t that big and you almost immediately realize he’s pulling you into his bedroom. 

“Quinn, I’m already pregnant,” you joke, though you’re truly not sure if you should be joking about it at this point or not. 

Quinn simply shakes his head with a quiet chuckle, pulling open the top drawer of his dresser he rifles through it till he pulls a little box out. Turning around to face you he opens it, showing you the beautiful ring inside. 

“Is that?” you whisper, eyes wide as you stare at the ring. 

“Yeah,” Quinn breathes out. “You said you liked a ring one time when were watching TikTok together and I knew one day I was going to ask you to marry me…so I found something like it...I just don’t know why you’re surprised that I’ve thought about this before.”

You’re reaching for the ring when Quinn slams the box shut, pulling it away from you. “No, I’m not asking you to marry me.”

“What?” you whisper, recoiling away from him, a sinking feeling in your chest. 

“Well I am,” Quinn clarifies. “But not now…not like this. You deserve better, you deserve something romantic, something perfect.”

Your eyes are welling with tears again and you can’t take your eyes off of him. “I love you,” you whisper. 

“I love you too,” he says, setting the ring down before placing his hands on your waist. “Do you want to do this?”

“Marry you?” you ask, tears rolling down your face. 

“Well that,” Quinn whispers, wiping away a couple tears from your cheeks. “But also us having a baby, starting a family right now.”

“Yes,” you breathe out, one simple answer to both questions. 

[midnightsun-if]

Sorry if this sounds rude, but I have some things I need to get off my chest. Frankly, the whole Scarlett situation kind of sucks, and the way you’re handling things is not exactly helping matters. I get you have a specific vision for her character, and as a fellow author I would never suggest you compromise that to appease a bunch of sexist, entitled fans, but you’ve given so much attention to her character that it honestly comes as no surprise that people wouldn’t respect her sexuality, as bad as that is to say.

I’ve personally sent numerous asks in the past, and you haven’t answered a single one, so either you’re intentionally ignoring them, or tumblr ate them. If it’s the later, then I’m sorry for accusing you. You’re obviously not under any obligation to answer asks you don’t want to, but I admit it does sting a bit to see Scarlet Ask #523759690 on my feed when I have yet to see a single one of mine. You may not think you have a favorite character, but from an outside perspective, you 100% do.

The amount of attention Scarlett receives compared to the rest of the cast (seriously, when was the last time Caden got an ask dedicated to them?) is truly astounding. Fans will naturally have their favorites, but as an author you should remain impartial… which you really haven’t. In fact, it seems like you actively encourage the Scarlett attention. It’s like you keep showing off a fancy car that only a few people can actually buy, then get upset when people complain they can’t buy the car as well.

Anyways, I’m sorry for this rant, but I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. I wish you luck on your writing journey, and hope you have a happy holiday (if you’re in a country that celebrates any upcoming holidays)!

I truly don’t know what to say other than the fact that I haven’t seen your asks and that I’m trying to avoid Scarlett asks when it specifically involves the discourse with her sexuality— which also may contribute to the possibility on why I haven’t seen them, if that’s what they involved— as I mentioned in my one-and-done post about it… I don’t want to keep this as a reoccurring theme on the blog as I know that many people will grow tired of it just like I have.

I answer Scarlett centric asks, barring when I answer scenario asks about the family and/or the ROs, mainly due to the fact that she’s the one people single out— if someone sends me an ask about C, or Blake, or anyone else, I’ll answer it… It just happens to be that Scarlett gets the most asks when it comes to that sort of thing— and those asks are typically much easier/faster to answer than the all-in-one asks— I’d be more than happy to answer singular asks about any number of my characters. And I have in the past when someone sends something in.

All I can truly say? If not being able to romance Scarlett is this big of an issue, and I truly am saying this as nicely as I can… I don’t think Midnight Sun is the right IF for you. I believe I know a couple more IFs with an Ice Queen type RO, or adjacent RO, that may suit you better if you’d like to me share them!

And, I’d just like to make this small point, I get upset, or am starting to, because it’s a point I’ve brought up over and over again— Scarlett isn’t a lesbian to create an inconvenience for the player… She’s a lesbian because it’s part of who she is. Sending me asks saying “I can change her” or “Give us Scarlett and the F!MCs Koda” (among other things) is absolutely abhorrent in the best case scenario. There are 7 other ROs for you to choose from— all of which offer their own unique routes and experiences within Midnight Sun.

Scarlett isn’t changing, I’m standing firm with this. I’m not going to ever change my mind about it— I’m sorry if that upsets anyone, but it’s not something I’m backing down on.

[writtenbymkl]

good person alternative ending

please read previous parts !

word count: 3.1k

a/n: i’m posting it here to make it easier for my friend to read BUT this is an alternative ending to good person IF the confession had happened 👍 it’s not proof read or anything i kinda just typed out what i felt LOL , i’m not too happy with it but i hope someone else will enjoy :D thanks for reading !! it’s kind of a long one :>

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

you sit at the lunch table with haechan and jaemin, enjoying a small break from classes. the atmosphere suddenly shifts when haechan speaks out of nowhere. his sudden declaration is surprising because he’s always been someone who had a partner by his side. he shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant as he states, “i’ve decided that i’m done with dating. it’s just truly not for me.”

jaemins looks at haechan with a skeptical expression implying he doesn’t believe what’s coming out of his mouth. you quickly intervene, smacking jaemin on the arm and saying, “come on, jaemin, we should support him!”

jaemin can’t resist teasing you and smirks, remarking, “of course you support that.”

haechan, confused by the exchange, looks back and forth between you and jaemin. sensing the tension, you shoot jaemin a warning glare, silently urging him to cut it out. if there’s anyone who let your crush slip, it would be jaemin and you can’t risk that happening.

just then, you notice mark sneak up behind haechan, a mischievous glint in his eyes. he swiftly pulls haechan’s hoodie over his head, momentarily blocking his vision. haechan whines, “that wasn’t funny, stop!”

you can’t help but burst into sudden laughter at the playful banter between them both. you can always count on mark to lift your mood. haechan pouts, feigning betrayal. “y/n, you’re supposed to be on my side, not mark’s,” he playfully complains, crossing his arms.

you apologize through your laughter, playfully rolling your eyes at the situation. “sorry, hyuck,” you say, still slightly laughing.

mark, seizing the opportunity to lighten the mood, makes a comment that he thought would help you out. “boyfriend and girlfriend have to stick together though, am i right?”

your eyes widen, shooting mark a warning look, silently telling him to cut it out. haechan, now even more confused than when jaemin previously spoke, looks at mark and asks, “what about our relationship? boyfriend and girlfriend?”

mark, unaware of the implications of his words, innocently responds, “well aren't you guys dating now? i thought you were after your breakup with mihye. didn’t y/n confess?”

your world feels like it’s crumbling around you as everything is suddenly out in the open. you’re not sure where mark even had the impression that you had confessed when you had clearly told him you were never going to tell haechan. you can’t function, your mind spinning with the potential consequences. tears start welling up in your eyes, and you can’t help but fall apart at that moment.

jaemin is frozen, not knowing how to handle the situation. he tries to downplay it, but you can only focus on sensing haechan staring at you from the corner of your eye, his confusion and concern evident.

mark, realizing the gravity of his words, starts apologizing profusely, but at this point, you can’t hear anything over the uneasiness in your heart. the only thing you can do is get up and say that you have to go, not bidding anyone goodbye. both jaemin and mark try to stop you, but you run off, leaving haechan in a state of shock.

—----------------------------

the courtyard is bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a warm, golden hue on you as you sit alone on a bench. your mind swirls with thoughts of the shattered friendship between you and haechan, a longing for the days when your bond was uncomplicated.

"i wish i could just go back to when i didn't like him," you whispered, your voice carrying a tinge of sadness.

just as you resign yourself to isolation, a familiar figure quietly joins you on the bench. it's mark, wearing a weak smile that barely hides his remorse.

"hey," he greets you softly, his voice filled with apology.

you offer him a small smile in return. the weight of your recent conversation hangs heavily in the air.

"dude, i'm like really sorry," mark says, his voice tinged with regret. "i never meant for things to turn out like this. i didn't realize what I was doing. i thought that you had like confessed or something."

your kind gaze meets his, filled with understanding. "i know, mark. it's okay. i forgive you. i could never be mad at you."

gratitude washes over mark's face as he breathes a sigh of relief. "jesus, thank you. i mean it. i swear i never wanted to cause any harm. like seriously,"

you sigh, her voice laced with sadness. "i just... i hope things won’t change between me and haechan."

mark's empathy shines through as he responds, "i get it. but you know, when i mentioned it, haechan didn't seem upset. if anything, he looked... different. almost happy."

confusion fills your eyes as you search for answers. "huh? are you suggesting that he might be happy about the confession?"

mark's uncertainty is clear as he replies, "well, i mean, i don't know for sure. but maybe you should talk to him, y/n. it could clear up stuff for you both."

shaking your head, you gently decline, "no, not now. i think he needs some space to process everything. when he's ready, we'll have the chance to talk."

understanding and support shine in mark's eyes as he sighs, "yeah, i get it man. whatever you decide, i'll support you. it's between you and haechan after all."

emotions overwhelm you as you embrace mark tightly, tears welling up in your eyes. you’re just grateful to have mark as a trusting friend and someone who will always be there for you no matter what.

"thank you, mark. thank you for being such a good friend," you whisper, your voice quivering with gratitude.

mark's voice, gentle and reassuring, echoes your sentiments. "always, y/n. i'll be here for you."

just as you both share this sincere moment, another presence slips in beside you, tucking their head into your shoulder, breaking the tender atmosphere. you turn your head in surprise to find jaemin, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"what are you doing here, jaemin?" you groan playfully, a mix of annoyance and affection coloring your voice.

jaemin's mischievous grin widens as he exclaims, "group hug!"

you sigh, unable to hide a small smile. "fine, whatever. you're a good friend too, i guess. at least you weren’t the one to slip up this time." mark lets out a quick ‘hey!’ before you let out a small laugh.

—-----------------------

a week later, and you find yourself surprisingly calm without haechan by your side. the days have passed, and although you still miss him, you understand the need for space and time to process everything that has happened. it's not easy to digest the fact that your childhood best friend has harbored feelings for you for years, and the revelation has left you in a state of introspection.

haechan continues to show up to class, not letting the newfound tension affect his attendance. however, he deliberately chooses not to sit next to you and mark, opting instead for a seat on the other side. at first, it tugs at your heartstrings, a pang of sadness settling in, but you remind yourself to be understanding. haechan needs his distance, and you don't hold it against him.

in class, you find yourself seated at the back, goofing around with mark. "mark, you dummy, that's not what we're supposed to be doing," you playfully scold him, smacking his shoulder lightly.

"dude, it makes sense to me, so i'll do what i want," mark retorts, a mischievous glint in his eyes. you lean your head on mark's shoulder, seeking comfort and support. in response, he wraps his arm around your shoulder, giving you a side hug. it feels reassuring to have a friend by your side during this uncertain time.

as the minutes tick away before class begins, everyone settles into their seats, preparing for the lesson ahead. suddenly, you feel someone slide into the chair next to you. lifting your head from mark's shoulder, you're taken aback to find haechan sitting there, visibly nervous, his eyes deliberately avoiding yours. confusion fills the air, and you exchange a puzzled glance with mark, both of you uncertain about haechan's sudden presence.

"do you... mind if we talk... after this?" haechan's words come out in a hurried and anxious manner. your face drains of color, and though a myriad of thoughts race through your mind, you find yourself nodding silently, unable to form words. haechan's expression relaxes, a sense of relief washing over him, and he offers you a soft smile before turning his attention back to the front of the classroom.

when the class finally comes to an end, you and mark begin to pack up your belongings. mark informs you that he has another class to attend, prompting him to bid you farewell.

"yo, i have my next class in a few. don't hesitate to shoot me a text or call, okay? i'll see you later. good luck," mark says, giving you a quick hug before making his way out.

curiosity gets the better of haechan, and he can't help but ask, "since when were you and mark so close?" he looks down, busying himself with shoving his school supplies into his backpack.

"we've always been close," you shrug, crossing your arms and waiting for him to finish his preparations.

with his backpack strapped securely on his shoulders, haechan suggests, "do you have any other classes after this? i'm done for the day." you shake your head, signaling that your schedule is clear.

"okay, let's go talk in the courtyard," haechan proposes, nodding towards the classroom door. you follow his lead as he guides you outside. as you finally arrive at the courtyard, you notice a familiar swing set from the nearby daycare. it seems like a fitting place for a heartfelt conversation. both of you take a seat on the swings, creating a momentary pause, an awkward silence hanging between you.

finally, haechan breaks the silence, his voice filled with a mix of apprehension and sincerity. "i'm sorry," he begins, his words weighted with regret. "I have a lot to apologize for, but I want to start by saying sorry for avoiding you the whole week." his gaze meets yours, guilt etched on his face. you simply shrug, finding it difficult to find the right words. deep down, you understand that all he wants to do is apologize and address any romantic implications that might have arisen.

"i'm also sorry for bringing mihye to your birthday get-together, for showing up late, and for not giving you a heads up until the last minute," he continues, his voice laced with remorse. with each apology, haechan's swinging motion gradually comes to a halt.

"it's okay," you say softly, your voice filled with forgiveness and understanding.

"and i'm mostly sorry for always burdening you every time my heart was broken," haechan adds, surprising you with his admission. your eyes widen, realizing that he perceived his emotional reliance on you as a burden. you never wanted him to feel that way. if anything, you cherished those moments when he sought solace in your presence, even if it meant jeopardizing your own happiness.

"don't ever apologize for that. that's what I'm here for, remember? never feel like a burden. I never wanted you to feel that way. it's the last thing I want," you say gently, emphasizing your unwavering support.

"it's my fault anyway," he sighs, his voice heavy with self-blame. "but that's not the only thing i want to apologize for," he continues, catching your attention. you look at him, confusion written all over your face, waiting for him to elaborate.

"can you let me apologize for hurting you?" haechan's request catches you off guard. the complexity of his emotions is evident, and he longs for your understanding and forgiveness.

“don’t start this, you didn’t hurt me, if anything i knew you would reject me from the start which is why i never wanted to say anything,” you say looking down to the ground. “so don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault you can’t have feelings for me, i totally get it.” all you can do is come clean at this point and hope that this won’t sour your relationship.

haechan's eyes widen in surprise as he listens to your words. he reaches out and gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. his eyes are filled with a mixture of regret and longing, and you can sense the sincerity in his touch.

"no, that's not it," he says softly, his voice laced with conviction. "you're wrong. it's not that i can't have feelings for you. the truth is, i've been struggling with my own emotions, trying to make sense of them all."

confusion swirls within you, but you remain silent, giving him the space to explain.

"when we first met, i felt a connection—a bond that grew deeper every day. i mean look at us now, we’re two best friends…” he says soft laughing swinging on the swing. “but i was scared that you didn’t feel the same. i didn't want to ruin what we had, so i pushed those feelings aside, and just hoped they would pass as we grew up.”

you feel a flicker of hope within you, but it's quickly overshadowed by caution. the vulnerability in haechan's eyes is undeniable, yet you're afraid to let yourself believe that he could reciprocate your feelings.

“but what about the people you dated? i mean, inviting mihye to the get-together?” you asked with your brows furrowed in confusion.

“i thought that by getting into those relationships, i’d distract myself from my feelings for you. i wanted to convince myself that i could move on, that i could be satisfied with being just friends. but every time, it felt wrong, like i was trying to force something that wasn't meant to be," haechan said. taking in his confession seems silly to you because you never thought you would be sitting here having him confess after years of pining for him in the shadows.

"i can't change the past, and i can't undo my mistakes," haechan admits, his voice filled with regret. "but what i can promise you is that i understand how much i feel for you now, and i want to make things right. i want us to stay as best friends but also be together, without holding back or letting anything distract us from each other ever again.”

tears well up in your eyes, a mixture of relief and sadness. the weight you've carried, keeping your feelings hidden, is finally being acknowledged. but there's still a lingering doubt, a fear that this newfound confession is too good to be true.

haechan stops the swing and gets off, taking a step closer, closing the distance between you. his hand reaches out, gently wiping away a tear that trails down your cheek. his touch is tender, his gaze unwavering.

"i don't want to lose you," he whispers, his voice filled with sincerity. "i want to be with you, y/n. and for real this time, no more dating other people and having my heart broken. can you forgive me for not realizing it sooner? can you give us a chance?"

you stare into Haechan's eyes, searching for any hint of deception, but all you find is raw honesty and vulnerability. the doubts that once clouded your mind begin to dissipate as his words and actions speak volumes.

a sense of warmth spreads through your heart, overpowering the lingering fear. you take a deep breath, letting the weight of your own unspoken desires slowly lift from your shoulders. with a shaky voice, you respond, "haechan, i... i do forgive you. and i want to give us a chance too."

a radiant smile brightens haechan's face, and a mixture of relief and joy fills his eyes. the connection between you deepens, and you realize that this moment is the turning point—the beginning of something wonderful.

as the air crackles with anticipation and the weight of your shared confession lingers in the atmosphere, haechan's gaze softens, his eyes locked with yours. the world seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this tender moment.

he takes a small step closer, his breath mingling with yours. "y/n, can i... can i kiss you?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern and a touch of nervousness. haechan wants to make sure that every step he takes is consensual, respecting your boundaries even if you two are best friends.

a smile graces your lips, and your heart flutters at his sweet gesture. you reach out, gently placing your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. "yes, haechan," you whisper softly, your voice carrying a blend of excitement and affection.

with that silent permission, haechan closes the remaining distance between you, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he leans in, his lips gently brushing against yours. the touch is tender and delicate, like the flutter of butterfly wings, but it carries a depth of emotion that words fail to describe.

in that moment, time stands still. the world fades away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours, the warmth and softness that envelops you. it feels like a climax of every unspoken word, every hidden longing finally finding comfort in this simple yet profound act.

as the kiss lingers, the two of you find comfort in the depth of your relationship. it's a testament to the trust and love that has grown between you—a love that grew from friendship and now blooms in the gentle embrace of this shared affection.

when the kiss ends, you both pull away slowly, breathless and filled with an overwhelming sense of contentment. haechan's eyes meet yours, and a bright, joyful smile graces his face, mirrored by your own.

you never thought you'd find yourself at this moment, wrapped in the embrace of your best friend. the journey that led you here was a tapestry woven with laughter, tears, and unspoken feelings. and now, as you stand together, hearts laid bare, you realize that the love you share surpasses boundaries.

in haechan's arms, you find relief and entirety. the weight of past mistakes and unspoken feelings has dispersed, replaced by a deep understanding. his eyes, filled with sincerity and regret, speak volumes. though the past can’t be rewritten, you can tell he’s determined to make things right once again.

you’re also determined to make things right once again, and this time follow your heart in speaking for yourself. you'll forever be haechan’s good person, the one who understands him deeply, no matter who’s breaking his heart. not that you would ever.

[kayla-2]

I’ll be honest. A post you made popped up on my dashboard so I went to your profile to see other posts you’ve made about ACOTAR.

After about 15 minutes of doom scrolling, I realized something. I never saw a post about what you thought about Nesta saving Nyx, Rhys, and Feyre is ACOSF.

I know you’re an anti-Nesta fan. But I find it hard to believe that any pro-Feyre fans couldn’t appreciate what Nesta did to save her sister and nephew. Especially after completing the Blood Rite and dealing with the Cassian/Briallyn situation like 15 minutes before getting to the River House. I’m pretty sure that would knock anyone on their ass.

Now I’ll be the first to admit that Nesta is no saint. She has said and done things I don’t agree with. I also understand, on a certain level, some of her actions. I think her plan with Thomas was to lighten the load for her family. As one less mouth to feed, it was intended to lighten the family’s load. I also firmly believe that Nesta’s mom was grooming her for the vast majority of her childhood. And that type of abuse is not so easily healed. Also, Elain and Feyre have had their own shares of nastiness.

- Elain’s reaction to how Nesta was not adjusting well after being taken to the HoW and being forced to detox cold turkey made me realize how truly childish and naive she was to her sister’s suffering. Also, the fact that Elain was “pretty” and “quiet” during her suffering was deemed acceptable and the fact that she never contributed to the family’s situation in cabin is just glossed over.

- The constant Nesta bashing carried out by IC when Feyre was present always grated on me. I think it bothered me most because Feyre never defended her sister, like, not even a little. I also find absolutely comedic that the IC are all 500+ but take Feyre’s POV as the gospel truth. Surely they know better than to only seek one version of a story…

Honestly, I like Nesta. I know it’s hard for some people to see and that’s totally fine. That being said, if Nesta was truly as horrid as some people make her out to be, she could have let Feyre die during childbirth and taken Rhys out too. But she didn’t.

I’m not looking to throw hands or anything lol. So please don’t take this as an attack. I’m just truly curious to see what your opinion was concerning Nesta’s sacrifice for Feyre, Rhys, and Nyx. And to see how you think it will play out in the coming books.

I can’t speak for all feyre stans, just me. N.esta “sacrifice” was nothing more than an answer to an already unnecessary plot moment. No one wants her to sacrifice anything, I just need basic respect towards her little sister. The pregnancy and all it’s complications only happened to move feysand out the way so n.esta can finally be useful and “go up the mountain”… it’s quite obvious since cassian was healed after having a worse injury. If the pregnancy was actually for Feyre and feysand plotline I would be much more appreciative

Its barely a sacrifice when n.esta didn’t care or train her powers. Feyre spent all her life sacrificing for n.esta so I would barely call it a favor. I do not care about the IC bashing n.esta the few times they did and Feyre unnecessarily defended n.esta on multiple occasions, please reread. She has the most nice things to say about n.esta. If n.esta can’t handle people not liking her maybe she should be nicer to their family (feyre) or don’t. I don’t get why everyone has to be nice and she can say whatever she wants.

N.esta also admitted to pushing elain away and literally blamed her for their fathers death. What is elain suppose to do? Again, why is she allowed to do these things but everyone else needs to be a saint. Since Feyre returned, Elain apologized, was happy to see her sister alive, and actually works to fix her relationship with feyre and don’t degrade her unlike n.esta so she would be treated nicer it’s common sense. People aren’t punching bags and she couldn’t get any friends or new “sisters” until she respected people which again.. it’s common sense

And point to the part of a.cosf where n.esta disagrees that she treated feyre poorly, how is the inner circle only taking Feyres side of the story when they see n.esta with their own two eyes. She confirmed Feyre story, added more, and truthfully admitted that she didn’t deserve Feyre.

Y’all have to admit that y’all wanted n.esta to be able to treat people however she wants and they have to remain dutiful and nice and patient while offering unlimited support.

[sarakingdom]

tonight I felt like writing about stevensara and so I came up with this sloppy little draft of a scene that could fit nicely into an ordinary life - i’m currently half asleep and typing this on my phone so please do forgive any spelling / grammar errors !! 💗

~~~

She sits with Steven in a cold room in London. It’s 1952, and the snow is so thick that it’s began to fall through the cracks in their thin windows. He hands her a mug of hot chocolate, and she sighs contentedly as the smell reaches her nose.

‘Do you think we’ll win?’ he says, looking away from her and instead out into the icy pavement outside where two boys pelt snowballs at one another.

Sara stops mid sip, holding her mug in both hands. Normally it’s her that brings this up - her paranoia, the repeated checking of her weapon and the taranium happening far more frequently than she’d like to admit. Steven has always seemed far more capable of truly taking to their new lives which for Sara seem as though they could never be anything more than temporary. Maybe that’s why his question shocks her so much.

Sara studies Steven’s face, or the little of it she can make out from her angle. He looks worried, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

‘I…I’d like to think so…’ she trails off, unsure of how much she believes it. It is a very un-Space Security Service answer, she thinks to herself. No reassurances, no platitudes.

He turns to face her, and Sara realises that she must have sounded more confident in her answer than she felt - or Steven is just desperate for reassurance on the matter because a small smile has found its way onto his face, his eyes seeming brighter. Sara feels that odd twist in her chest that has seemed to be happening more and more frequently, but swallows it down.

‘So do I. Especially when we find where the doctor’s got to…I’m sure it’ll be for good reason and we’ll definitely have some stories to tell him, won’t we?’

A smile sneaks its way onto Sara’s face at this. It hasn’t been a long time they’ve spent together without the doctor, but it feels as though it’s lasted years. She’s gone to sleep every night with her head spinning from a world of completely new things - some good (ice cream) and some bad (her attempt at finding g a job was definitely a point she’d keep to herself upon their reunion with the doctor).

Steven is looking at her even more intently now and Sara berates herself for noticing the slight pink dappled across his cheeks - something that she thinks makes him seem newly vulnerable to the extent she worries it’s an invasion of privacy for her to note it.

‘I guess…why I asked about us winning-‘ he trails off, fiddling with his hands and then the mug he holds.

Sara gives him a searching look which she hopes urges him to continue.

‘I just…god…I can’t stop thinking that something awful is going to happen. To me, or worse…to you.’

Sara’s soft smile is replaced by a raised eyebrow and a frown. ‘Why would it be worse if something happened to me?’

Steven sighs, placing his mug on the small rickety coffee table and standing up.

‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sara.’

He walks out of the room before Sara can say another word, and she is left alone on the sofa. The temperature drops as he leaves, opening the door, but her face is flushed and she worries there’s the beginning of a winter fever setting in. She wraps a blanket around her, feeling her heart beat so fast she thinks it might burst out of her chest.

[babyspacebatclone]

@autistic-af

I wanted to reply to your tags on that one post for the article about the (lack of) efficacy of ABA. It’s me, though, so this is going to be a wall of text and out of respect I’m not adding this to the notes of an important thread.

I believe you when you say your parents truly, and with the best compassion in the world, believed the therapy you went to as a child was “beneficial.”

Success for these kinds of treatments are measured on three different types of outcomes

Usefulness and comfort to the patient.

Usefulness and reduction of effort to the parents or other people in direct authority to patient.

Matching the expected behaviors of the surrounding culture - that is, “fits in.”

Traditionally, sadly, the primary viewpoint of ABA therapy is that achieving success in points 2 and 3 obviously means success for point 1.

I mean, obviously.

…..

Except in the wealth of experiences from other minority groups, look at (non radical) feminism and replace “parents” with “spouse” for point 2 for an easy case study.

The thing is, “fitting in” with “expected behaviors” and making life “easier” for the people in authority over you….

Doesn’t actually mean you’re living your best life.

Just that you’re not upsetting the people with power.

Now, and this is important, society as a whole lies about this.

We see this regularly, of course, and there’s never ending cycles of pushback between disenfranchised groups and the existing status quo over this.

But even seeing it play out in our own lives… If you do manage to at least break even in the status quo, it’s easy to slip into the complacency of believing the lie of “fitting in.”

That of your child who is struggling just - stops looking like they’re struggling, obviously they’re doing better.

The sad thing is, however, ABA and related philosophies sees “stops struggling” as the end goal.

It doesn’t matter why the patient has “stopped,” it just matters that it happens.

Compliancy, over actual healing.

And so, the patients are literally forced to lie for self protection.

You can’t show struggling, because you’re only going to be punished more for struggling.

You have to accept being broken, as the only alternative to being regularly hurt on top of being broke.

And parents who mean well? Parents we love, who honestly want the best for us, who we see hurting when we are hurting?????????

Well, one thing ABA teaches is how to lie about suffering.

And so, while it was happening, a child in ABA has every single reason in the universe to not tell their loving, well meaning parents that that are being made to hate themselves.

And this ends up with neurotypical people in authority - especially Applied Behavior Analysts- to think it worked.

Achieving compliance meant success, so obviously the patient is also now able to lead their best life.

Which is also why people who do mean well but have been experiencing the system from the professional end honestly believe it has been helpful, and the people complaining are either an insignificant minority or have ulterior motives.

Success was achieved. They saw it.

You have to convince them that, well….

Testimonies under torture usually can’t be trusted.

[ceruleanwhore]

Idk if this has been said yet because I’m sure everybody had a million things to say about this scene back when it aired, but I want to talk about Trent’s article that he wrote about Ted in s1 e3. I typed out a transcription of it since I couldn’t find one and I first just want to paste that in here because I will be referring back to it: “Whatever you think of Ted Lasso as a football coach, I assure you the truth is harder to swallow. And swallow you must because Ted is out there in the community either bravely or stupidly facing the music — that’s for you to decide. And yes, he’s in over his head. He insisted twice that he didn’t care if Richmond won or lost. But if the Lasso way is wrong, it’s hard to imagine being right. In a business that celebrates ego, Ted reins his in. His coaching style is subtle — it never hits you over the head — slowly growing until you can no longer ignore its presence. Whether that means allowing followers to become leaders or, in a show of respect, eating food so spicy it’s sure to wreak massive havoc on his intestinal system. And though I believe Ted Lasso will fail here and Richmond will suffer the embarrassment of relegation, I won’t gloat when it happens because I can’t help but to root for him.” First and foremost, I just really want to talk about the voice switch in this part. This scene in the show starts off with Leslie reading this to Rebecca, but at the start of the second paragraph, it switches to Trent’s own voice. To me, that is hugely significant because we get Leslie reading the part that is actually critical and then starting to hesitate and choke a bit on the last line of the first paragraph before Trent picks up for that entire second half which, coming from him at this point in the show, is essentially glowing praise. Leslie is the one reading the part that’s most in keeping with the slander Rebecca was looking for but then Trent takes over to praise Ted. Secondly, going off of that, I truly believe that the use of Trent’s own voice is a reflection of the idea that the part they use it for is the part that’s a truer reflection of himself and his true thoughts and feelings. In contrast, the part Leslie reads is moreso just a reflection of the writing style of Trent Crimm, the journalist who’s so well known for being critical. I believe that we have is a textual representation of the real shift that happens in Trent’s character in the show which, like the article, is centered around Ted. In the article, Trent goes from “Ted is out there in the community either bravely or stupidly facing the music” to “I can’t help but to root for him” just like how his character goes from being a journalist who’d write a scathing, downright mean review of a 17 year old footballer to the kind of man who would throw away his whole career on purpose for someone else. The other parallel I see with what Trent did at the end of s2 is actually in this article, in the penultimate line about Ted of “Whether that means allowing followers to become leaders or, in a show of respect, eating food so spicy it’s sure to wreak massive havoc on his intestinal system.” In that line, he’s talking about the lengths Ted goes to in order to support or show respect for others, and I think that is exactly the core of what he refers to as “the Lasso way” that he refers to at the end of the first part. I talked in my other post about how Trent is the only one who does for Ted as much as Ted does for others with what he did in s2, but here we can clearly see as far back as the third episode of the series that that came directly from being inspired by Ted. Trent was so inspired by Ted’s kindness and consideration that he then became the only character in the show to truly give it back to him on the same level and scale that Ted himself gives it out. Others have talked about the scene in the restaurant when Ted says he’s enjoyed his time with Trent, but think about how huge that scene actually is given that that one sentiment is what sparked this article and Trent’s future actions and everything else.