#understandably having other thoughts cross their mind every so often bc we live in a society

[aquato-family-circus]

So this headcanon I'm about to ramble a bit about is both about body image feelings, and minor spoilers abt some Psychonauts 2 Art Book concept art, #PN2 art book spoilers #spoilers yknow

so with that out of the way

Helmut's got some old concept art where his mental world outfit had a lot more of a classic viking inspo, and a few where he's got his shirt off have Mental World Abs added on and it comes across like how he'd wanna be shown off

and it has me thinking about how Helmut might have thought about himself and being fat... and I personally can relate to that feeling of like being really happy with and good with how my fat body looks but every so often thinking about how it could be different.

I like the vibe of confident showman Helmut once in a blue moon looking in the mirror while changing into his stage clothes thinking about like getting Muscles and Toning his Body bc he feels like that'd look nicer

but he gets reminded that he's already really strong (he can lift stage equipment like no problem even without telekinesis) and he doesn't need like a chiseled six pack for that. he's good. he looks and feels great already and can pull off any outfit bc of his natural charisma

AND. of course. bob loves his tummy very much, added bonus

[yandere-sins]

Hey there^^ Haven't done a request for quite a while but I'm pretty stuck myself and I could really use something to lift my mood, too, and your writing always does that :) So, I thought of Satan or Lucifer with prompt 3 and 34, maybe? If it's not too much it'd be nice if the reader could be rather anxious (my anxiety is really acting up these days .-.) but that's not that important

Have a nice day and stay healthy ^^

Blue

Hi Blue! Thank you for requesting ^-^ I decided to do some Satan bc I have another Lucifer request and this way we can have some variety :D Please enjoy! ^-^

Pills - “Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy right?”

Stickers - “One more time. I’m giving you one more chance to stop fucking resisting.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««  

“Be a good girl and sit still. You don’t want me to be unhappy, right?”

His demand sounded reasonable, and his voice was calm. Still, the hand clutching your thigh was too rough with your skin, the fingers digging into it painfully. Immediately, you stopped bopping your foot, a nervous habit you hadn’t even noticed you started.

How long had you been sitting in his lap for now? An hour? Two? It felt like the whole morning and was probably more like the entire day, but through the partially hidden window in Satan’s room, you couldn’t make out the time of day, even if the Devildom had varying daytime-lightning outside. But this way, you could only count the pages Satan had already read as any indications of time, even though it wasn’t a reliable source.

Clenching your fists on top of your legs, you wondered what else there was you could do. Perhaps it was one thing to read the day away, but it was an entirely different one when you were just the lapdog to someone doing it. Even if you showed interest in books, Satan preferred to keep you close to him, and unfortunately, his favorite reading chair didn’t allow two people to read comfortably. That, and the constant fear you might actually find something useful to slip out of his grip, made him decide that you could read only with him or not at all.

It was just a problem that the language of the book he was reading wasn’t one you could understand.

All you were reduced to was a stiff, anxious, warm body sitting on top of him, hoping that soon Satan would decide to do anything else. You couldn’t live with his suggestions of taking baths together or being left alone for hours to no end while he took care of daily business, but this was the third day in a row where things were simply... too calm.

You had been quick to cease bringing up arguments. Satan had scared you once when he grew angry before your life took this turn by his side. Still, it was nothing compared to the violent and oppressive force he used on you now when you acted ‘unsuitable’, as he called it. Part of you wanted nothing more than to scratch his face, bite and kick, but when you brought up the courage to stand up for yourself and your rights, his exuding magic alone made you crumble to your knees in primal, inferior fear, knowing all the bad things he would do to you if you pushed it any more than you already had.

Wherever he took the patience from, it was wearing thin regardless of its masses.

That, and that alone, was the reason you even listened to what he said.

Looking down at yourself, you might not have been able to see any bruises left on you, but you felt them in every flinching of your muscles. The soreness, the pain - they never disappeared, and Satan wasn’t going to help you forget by applying magic to heal them.

Instead, he caressed your thigh with his hand, fingers circling over your skin menacingly. Perhaps from an outside view, it looked almost sweet, but you felt nothing short of a warning from his touch. Every touch was calculated. A game. Maybe he truly wanted to help you calm, but you wouldn’t have put it past Satan to actually try and provoke you to do something stupid. It was his way of forgiving the bad things he did to you, much like an eye for an eye. He disapproved of many things, but he couldn’t quite justify his actions if you didn’t act up. Satan swore up and down that he preferred cats over dogs, but god beware you’d behave like one. Unknown sadistic tendencies seemed to ride him when it came to you, and from what you understood, you were his place of comfort and peace when you were in his arms and his punchbag if you made his days worse than they needed to be.

But arguably, you were just his; all he needed, either way.

Worse thoughts crossed your mind than this. Ideas of how similar he was to Lucifer when it came to oppressing, but you would have taken the eldest brother’s help without even a moment of hesitation. At the same time, you wanted nothing more than to get away from Satan. 

Encountering a sudden change of mood was what you feared the most. It happened too often. Satan wasn’t that hard to please, but he unexpectedly and sharply changed moods for no apparent reasons, just like a teenager.

What if he read a passage in his book he disliked? What if your foot began to bop again? What if your breathing was too loud? What if he decided you were too heavy... When would it stop? When would the worries finally go away?

He loved you. He told you he loved you, so why were you a prisoner in his room? Why did he refuse to let you go? See other people? Sleep in your own bed for a change? And why was he enraged every time such a wish crossed your mind?

The book in his hand lowered as you sunk deeper and deeper into your panicked thoughts, wondering what you should do from now on to stay on his good side and maybe regain your privileges. So many emotions fogged your senses; you didn’t even hear him take a deep breath as his eyes narrowed while they focused on your leg, nervously bopping up and down again.

However, you did notice the sudden jerk as he threw you off his lap, pain shooting through your body as you scrapped your knees on the floor. You hit the stacks of books Satan threw you into, hardcovers falling down on you, making you yelp as they felt like bombs raining down onto your body.

“What’s the matter this time?” he asked, standing up and closing the book. It took a lot of courage to look up at him, Satan’s pretty face and perfect posture as intimidating as the waspish shine in his deep green eyes. You perceived it as cold and belittling as he looked down on you, standing over your legs.

“I want to go home--” you whispered, close to tears as you averted your eyes from his, unable to look at him when he glared back at you so resentfully.

“[Name],” he called out to you in the most condescending way you could imagine someone speaking your name. However, you no longer could bear looking him in the eyes, and so, you let your head hang low, expecting the worst but hoping it was over soon.

“How long will you keep complaining. I was so good to you the last few days, wasn’t I? It’s all because you said you were unhappy with me, so I bettered myself, yet, you behave just the same. When will you realize this is home?”

Hearing this from him, you felt your heart break. Hearing that this dangerous, painful situation should be a norm and comfort for you made you want to throw up. But at the same time, it rose your spirits, and before you knew it, you were back on your wobbling feet, the pain being suppressed by adrenaline as you grabbed Satan by the collar. In retrospect, you realized you had been just like a frightened animal and snapped as he came too close for comfort.

“THIS ISN’T MY HOME! YOU ARE KEEPING ME HERE AGAINST MY WILL! WAKE UP, SATAN!” you screamed at him as loud as you could. Perhaps you wished for a stunned realization overcoming him, or maybe that someone else could hear you outside this little, private room. But it wasn’t like anyone came running to help anyway.

Instant regret flooded your mind as you felt his hands grip your wrists, the book he had held onto falling to the ground with a loud thud. A zip of magic sparked from where he grabbed you, burning through your body like venom. It was no question who was the stronger animal in this struggle, your body falling back and down into the pile of books with just one step Satan took forward. But with your hands still anchored in his clothes, you pulled him with you, and on top, giving him a chance to pin you down on the uncomfortable bed of books.

Though it felt like your bones were breaking under the pressure and awkward position, your will hadn’t been affected as much yet, your body instinctively pushing against him, even though it was futile.

“One more time. I’m giving you one more chance to stop fucking resisting.” The words escaped him through clenched teeth, a hostile fire flickering in his eyes that you were forced to stare into. You knew you had it coming for you. His rage. His anger. There was no way out now, and once again, you had made the situation worse for you than needed. Finally, as you felt your ragged breath fill your lungs unreliably, you calmed down, tears shooting to your eyes while the sobs escaped from your mouth.

For a minute or two Satan merely let you bawl it out, the streams of tears falling down your cheeks and onto the books beneath you, but it was of no concern to either of you. At least now, he didn’t tell you to cease your sadness too, and you realized all he wanted was for you to stop attacking him, even if it was unfair when he apparently was allowed to.

Instead, you found yourself being scooped into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder as you hugged him instinctively. His hold was right out of a book about how to console crying children, his hands perfectly falling to your head and back, calmingly rubbing over the hurt part of your body.

“Please...” you sobbed into his shirt.

“I love you. I will always love you, even if you do this to me,” he assured you. You didn’t want it. Not his love, not being held by him like this, not him playing the victim in this scenario. As if it was your fault he had to do these terrible things.

“Just... please...”

“Forever. We will stay together.”

His words did nothing to help you, even more crying ensuring as they laid down heavily on your mind.

“You’re all I have. All that only belongs to me,” Satan whispered while you shook your head softly, rubbing in the wet stains into his clothes and wishing it was all just a nightmare that you could wake up from.

“That’s why, from now on, I will be the only one for you as well.”

But you never woke up from it.

[You can find the prompt list here]

[blanska]

Did Sergey lie to Lera?

SPOILERS for the Plague Doctor comics up until issue #8

Disclaimer: I read most of the comics with the help of Google Translate, so it is highly likely that I don’t have the fully picture. I wrote this after reading #8 of the Plague Doctor.

In Plague Doctor #8 Sergey tells Lera in the car that the Bird has been destoryed, erased.

When I read that, I put down my phone and started pacing in my room, because this statement comepletely contradicted my interpretation of the story so far. It contradicted what I have seen.

My opinion: I think it wouldn’t be a great story if they truly killed off the bird forever. But here’s the thing. This is my taste in stories, which has no bearing on what happens in the comics. So instead, let’s talk about what my more objective side saw.

The Knife Scene

The most convincing part for me that the Bird is right there in the comics is the scene when Oleg takes out the knife. Next we see a close-up of Sergey’s eyes and the knife reflected in them. Immediately I thought of the Bird. The way this is presented makes this moment seem very important and ominous. The knife falls to the ground, and in the next moment Sergey pushes the blade to Lera’s side. He says, “Dead. Always watch your back.”

What makes this even more convincing and important is Oleg’s reaction. All of a sudden he acts almost like a prison guard, puts Sergey in his place, “Close the knife and hand it over to me. And step back!” I find it hard to interpret this in any other way than Oleg talking to the sociopath who just crossed a line. Sergey hands over the knife with a frown. Immediately after this things go back to normal.

If the Bird has been dead for years, why do we get this scene? Why would they show us specifically this scene in this way?

Two different people behind the wheel

In every scene when Sergey is present, for like 90% of the scene I saw one of two personalities. The one who seems to be less active (or just not as eccentric as the other one) I saw perhaps in #1 at the cafe, possibly in #2 when he gives Lera and Oleg their first job (he is dressed in white), in #3 when Lera tries on the suit, in #6 after the casino when he’s been up all night and they meet at the apartment and in #8 in the car with Lera.

Let’s call him “Sublte Sergey” bc I no better ideas.

The way he’s sitting, standing, the way he’s holding himself is different from the other personality. He doesn’t take up too much space, but he also doesn’t seem to lack confidence.

The way he phrases things is more matter of fact and he doesn’t talk down to others all the time.

Doesn’t joke about murdering the person he’s talking to and doesn’t do other things that seem very sociopathic.

The other personality is way more obvious. I saw him in #2 when they first gather in the apartment, then later during the first training session. In #3 during training when he attacks Lera and starts coplaining that Oleg didn’t do a good enough job. In #4 when they meet in the apartment before the casino. And the thing is, he acts just like during the Game when the Bird was in control and the other personality was essentially held hostage.

Let’s call him “Entitled Sergey” (bc I don’t wanna call him Bird for the sake of the discussion).

The way he’s holding himself. He looks like he’s always on a stage, he takes up a lot of space, he seems overly confident.

He frequently phrases things in a very condescending way, he seems to think he’s the smartest person in the room and he’s always surrounded by idiots. He very often complains about what the others are doing.

He jokes about hurting or murdering Lera on two occasions, he’s the one who picks up the knife, possibly the one who wants to suggest ideas that Oleg immediately shuts down (perhaps bc it would cross a certain line).

If the Bird is truly dead, then who am I seeing here? Why would there be a personality that acts just like the Bird during the Game? Did the Bird play the role of this personality back then? Is this the person who might know himself to be The Sergey and is that why the Bird would have played this role? If yes, who the hell is Subtle Sergey?

The Second One

In the car Sergey talks about the “second” personality, because idk he forgot to count himself, but sure let’s call him the Second One. “He doesn’t remember anything, shakes with horror, cannot fight.” It seems like this is the person who almost crashed the car twice driving to Lera’s home. The person who’s influence is slowly fading away during the conversation in the car. Nice to finally meet you, buddy.

I do not think that the Second One equals Subtle Sergey. Because as the scene goes on he starts to sound more and more like Subtle Sergey and not like Entitled Sergey. He says he is afraid of the Second One. The Second One wouldn’t say this, at least I do not think he would phrase it in this way. So these seem to be three distinct personalities.

Who is We?

In the car when Sergey is ranting about his, well.. their internal struggles, at some point he starts a sentence with “we” then pauses and corrects himself to “I”. I really like this, because of course he would say “we” occasionally as he seems to be co-conscious and living together with at least one other personality nowadays. At first I thought he corrected himself to try make his sentences more consistent and easier to understand, since most people refer to themselves as “I”.

But after it occured to me that he might have lied about the Bird being dead I thought pehaps that was not the case. He is talking about the Second One, “If I lose self control.” and then “The epitome of his greatest fear is absolute helplessness!“ He talks about the Second One in the third person and he clearly doesn’t want this person to be in control right now. 

Immediately after this as he starts to explain what happened with the Bird during the game, he says “We...” then corrects himself to “I've never made excuses with an evil alter ego.” What if when he said “we” he was thinking “the Bird and I”? But since he later claims that the Bird is gone, he corrects himself.

Sure, he could have done this for many other reasons, such as realizing that the other part(s) of the “we” have made those excuses before. But it still makes me wonder if he indeed lied.

So what if he did lie?

If he did lie, then I think Subtle Sergey and the Bird has been living and working together on this project and we’ve seen a lot of both of them. There were some moments of instantaneous switches just like back in the Game, but now the Bird is not trying to take over, he’s on board with the plans. He’s part of a system, even.

Especially with the intense reaction of the Second One, stepping to the foreground and having panic attacks, being unsure of himself, I can see why they would claim that the Bird is dead. Even if they’re not that unsure of themselves, it makes sense to say that. Because the Bird did all those horrible things when he was fully in control and running amok. Now they’re doing things differently. Saying “oh yes, he’s right here, but I promise he’s not gonne empty a round of bullets into you like the last time” isn’t very reassuring or believable. I would definitely consider lying in this situation.

What if he didn’t lie?

Then we have the Subtle and the Entitled Sergey, one of whom seems to behave like the Bird during the Game. Which is weird writing. It’s confusing. In the Plague Doctor, we don’t get to see what is going on inside Sergey’s mind. We don’t see alters talking to each other, or be represented by different character designs. We can only guess. And putting an alter in the story who acts like the Bird, without an explanation or anything to make clear that this is not the Bird, is extremely confusing to me.

If he didn’t lie, I have no idea why we had the Knife scene. What was the point? During the Game there was a Sergey trying to resist and fight the Bird unsuccessfully. I associate this sociopathic side of him with the Bird.

If the Bird is truly gone, then a part of Sergey has been thrown out the window. They didn’t get the chance to learn to live together, to get better, to figure out their life. It is not a good lesson. You don’t ignore or kill parts of you, especially the parts of you that make it incredibly hard to live your life and thrive. You deal with it. You come up with solutions to make it work for you or at least make it stop being an obstacle. If Sergey gets to be the Anti-hero and gets to live a better life, a healthier life, it shouldn’t be because we threw out the part of him who was causing trouble.

So I hope he lied. I desperately hope that he lied. But please, Bubble at least let us find out what the truth is in the end! I am getting tired of guessing who this person is in the scene with Oleg and Lera :D Whatever the case is, I am intrigued, I want to know more, I want to know what is really going on. And as of now I am absolutely confused.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Christmas (one shot)

Harry Potter Marauders AU 

Request: (I am combining two requests on this one because they are similar) 

1.  idk if it taking requests and i don’t want to be told forward but do you think that maybe you could write one with the reader as James little sister where she’s dating regulus and when Sirius runs away during the winter he manages to get reg to go with him and it’s rly sweet bc they spend Christmas together and it’s like the start of them all becoming really close and Reggie becomes like an honorary gryffindor... 

2. So I had an request with Regulus where he is dating the sister of James, and in the Christmas break he tells it Walburga and Orion but they kick him out, and so he goes to her house, kinda like when Sirius did :)

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- violence

________

Regulus stood outside of his mother’s sitting room working on getting the nerve to go inside. Today was the day that he would tell both Orion and Walburga about his relationship with you. It had been over a year of secrets and he was finally tired of it. Your parents were totally fine with the relationship so Regulus could only hope that his parents would be happy with his “happiness.”

You’re barking mad if you think that mum and dad will be happy. The Potter’s are blood traitors. They will flip.

Regulus had to shake the negative thoughts from his mind as he finally stepped into the room. Walburga sat beside her husband who was reading a newspaper. This was all that his parents seemed to do. Sit together but never speak. Regulus never understood it. When he started dating you his confusion over his parent’s odd relationship deepened. Regulus couldn't imagine just sitting beside you in silence every night.

Walburga looked up from the magazine that she was reading to gaze at her youngest son. It wasn’t often that Regulus appeared during her quiet time with Orion.

“What is it, Regulus?”

Regulus took a breath.

“I wanted to talk to you and dad about something.”

Orion put down his newspaper with a curious frown.

“Well, here we are. What is it?”

Regulus internally told himself to keep his nerve. If his parents could see that he wasn’t scared of them (like they wanted) maybe they would be a bit more perceptive to their son’s wants.

“I have a girlfriend. I’ve been dating a girl for over a year now. It's time for the two of you to know.”

Walburga immediately frowned.

“I see. We have promised you to…”

Regulus shook his head.

“I am not dating one of my cousins. I love the girl that I am with and want to be with her.”

Orion immediately crossed his arms over his chest.

“Who is she?”

“Y/n Potter.”

Both Walburga and Orion were on their feet in an instant. Walburga started screeching about the Potters being blood traitors.

“I forbid it! This relationship is over. You have no business in mixing with Potter trash.”

Regulus suddenly felt braver than he had in a long time.

“You don’t know her. Y/n is a wonderful girl. She’s smart, kind, beautiful...and she loves me.”

Orion sighed, putting a hand over his face.

“Is that what she told you? Regulus, love isn’t a real emotion. We have told you how some frivolous girl would use mentions of love to ensnare you into some trap. In this world there are only business arrangements. That’s what marriages are supposed to be about. If you let yourself become filthy by some blood traitor, no proper girl will want you.”

“I love her. Love is also very much real. I don’t care if the two of you don’t like it. You can hate it for all that I care. I will not give her up.”

(meanwhile)

Sirius lay on his bed throwing a small ball up in the air waiting for it to come back down. He was bored shitless and wanted nothing more than to get into something. The moment that he heard Regulus scream, Sirius sat up.

“Reg?”

He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and went into his brother’s room.

“Did you see a spider again, Reggie? I don’t think that it is going to get you.”

Sirius frowned, seeing no sign of Regulus in the room. His bed was neatly made and everything looked in order. Regulus screaming again made Sirius quickly turn and run down the stairs. He has a sickening feeling that he knew what was going on. Normally it was him who his mother enjoyed using as a punching bag. It was very few and far between when Walburga turned her wrath on her “favorite.”

Skidding into the sitting room, Sirius wanted to scream at the sight of his mother using the cruciatus curse on his little brother. Regulus lay in a fetal position bleeding from the nose and mouth while screaming for his mother to stop.

“Mother, stop it!”

Sirius snapped. Walburga and Orion, whom Sirius just realized was in the room, looked up to their eldest son.

“Go away, Sirius. Your brother is being punished and it's none of your concern.”

Sirius shook his head.

“When he’s bleeding from the nose, ears, and mouth it is my concern. Stop before you kill him.”

Orion finally spoke up,

“This is what he deserves for dating a blood traitor. Were you aware that your brother was dating the Potter girl?”

Sirius frowned. This is what it was about. His parents discovered Regulus’ romance with you and was having a fit. Sirius was worried that this would happen the moment that the two of you started dating. This was why Sirius begged Regulus to not breathe a word of this to their parents. How they found out, Sirius wasn’t for sure.

“Nothing is wrong with Y/n. Now stop before you kill him!”

(meanwhile)

You sat beside James as your mother put a plate of freshly made cookies in front of you. Euphemia smiled proudly.

“Enjoy you two. I know that I said no Christmas cookies before Christmas but you know that I can’t help it. I love cookies.”

James grinned and eagerly grabbed a cookie.

“Yes! I was hoping for cookies.”

He said gleefully as the doorbell rang. You quickly stood up.

“Keep stuffing your face. I’ll go get the door.”

James gave you a wide grin as you walked down the hallway to the front door as the knocking continued.

“Keep your shirt on, we are coming.”

You yelled as you opened the door. The moment the door was opened you instantly found yourself wanting to scream. Both Sirius and Regulus stood on the other side looking as if the shit had been knocked out of them.

“JAMES! MUM!”

You screamed before reaching out and tugging them both inside. Assessing the situation, Regulus looked a lot worse off than Sirius. Seeing your boyfriend like this was enough to make you want to sob.

“What happened? What is going on?”

You heard James and your mother running in from the living room. James was the first in the room and was as stunned as you. He made a b-line for his best friend as you continued to check Regulus’ normally flawless face for injuries.

Euphemia stood with her hands over her mouth before quickly “getting her head in the game.”

“James, Y/n, bring Sirius and Regulus into the living room. I’m going to get some towels.”

You quickly did as you were told. Wrapping an arm around Regulus’ waist, you stepped as close to him as possible.

“Love, please...what happened. You’re not talking and it's scaring me.”

Regulus tried to think past the pain that was going through his aching body.

“I told my parents about us.”

You could clearly see your mother spin around at the comment Regulus made. Euphemia was as stunned as you were. Sirius tossed his hair over his shoulder.

“Mum and dad used cruciatus curse on us then threw us out.”

Euphemia came back with a bunch of clean towels.

“I wouldn’t let the two of you go back anyway. There is no way that I could let either of you return to that house.”

“Mrs. Potter, we couldn’t impose…”

Regulus started but Euphemia cut him off.

“Nonsense. The two of you are staying. James, go tidy your room. I don’t want Sirius to break an ankle trying to move around in there.”

Sirius laughed at the expression on James’ face.

“I told you that you were messy.”

James grabbed his friend by the hand and tugged him into the room and closed the door. Euphemia turned back to face where Regulus stood quietly at your side.

“You two come with me.”

If anyone could patch Regulus up it would be your mother. Euphemia was perfect at healing spells. After having James Potter for a son, she had to learn a thing or two quickly before her only son bled out.

“What happened to make your mother do something like this, dear?”

Euphemia asked as she gently took a towel and dabbed at Regulus’ bloody nose. Regulus winced at the bit of pain that went through his face. Euphemia stopped, having a feeling that the boy’s nose was broken.

“The truth?”

Regulus questioned. Euphemia smiled.

“That would be lovely. After you get done tell me what the truth is then maybe you can enlighten my son a bit. His stories are getting a little old. He needs new material.”

Euphemia was relieved when Regulus smiled at that.

“I can understand that. His excuse for making a bad grade on a test before Christmas was something about asbestos.”

Euphemia chuckled.

“You’ve heard that one too.”

Regulus was silent a moment longer before deciding that it was best to tell Euphemia what actually happened. She would find out soon enough and it wasn’t like she was going to hit him. Euphemia didn’t seem like a mother that would beat her children. She was nothing like his mother.

“I told my mother that I was dating Y/n. My parents said that your family is…”

Euphemia pursed her lips having a feeling where this was going.

“Let me guess, blood traitors.”

Regulus blushed before looking down. He didn’t even want to say yes to this. For once, everything that his family stood for was nothing that he wanted to be a part of any longer.

“Yes...I don’t feel that way though. I love Y/n and I want to be with her.”

Euphemia patted his shoulder.

“No need to fret, dear. I didn’t think of you in that way at all. You may be your mother’s son but you are not her. Now I’m going to fix your nose then you two need to get some rest.”

(5 minutes later)

You stepped into your bedroom followed by Regulus. He was still holding a blood-soaked towel under his nose.

“Are you alright?”

You asked. Regulus nodded then shook his head. He looked down at his still trembling hands. He sat down on the bed before he fell down.

“No, I’m not alright. No parent should treat their kid like this. I shouldn’t be beaten to hell for being in love with you.”

You quickly took your place on his lap. Placing a leg on either side of Regulus’ body, you sat up enough to gently cradle his head against your chest. Stroking your fingers through his hair, you gently whispered that everything would be fine. Whether Regulus believed it or not you weren't sure.

“None of my friends will probably talk to me again.”

Regulus finally said in a sad defeated tone. He knew that Evan would probably give him the tongue lashing of a lifetime for doing something to be kicked out of such a prestigious family. If Evan spoke to him after that would be a great question in itself. Barty would find this the perfect chance to take Regulus’ place. He had been desperate to do it for years so why would he wait?

“You can stay with my friends. They won’t mind. James already is cool with us being together. He just had to get over that initial older brother issue.”

Regulus wasn’t sure how hanging out with a herd of Gryffindor’s would go but at the moment it didn’t seem as if he had much of a choice. He would be with you...that would be the main perk. Now he didn’t have to say goodbye again and wonder if his parents were going to hang him for being your boyfriend.  

“That’s good to know. I’m sorry that he had to find out by catching us snogging.”

You were relieved to see a smile spread across Regulus’ face.

“He just had to sit quietly for a moment.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. James had to sit quietly whenever you did something questionable. Regulus pulled his attention off of James. As much as he was relieved to apparently have James Potter in his corner now, Regulus didn’t want to think about him at the moment. He had a feeling that he was going to be watched by James anytime the two of you were within inches of each other. This was going to make snogging be a bit difficult. Hopefully, he wouldn’t just come bursting into the room at any given time.

Looking around your room, Regulus couldn’t help but smile. Everything was comfy and screamed your name. For the first time, in a long time, Regulus felt safe. Knowing that he didn’t have to go back home was a welcomed thought.

Your fingers unbuttoning his shirt quickly got Regulus’ attention. He watched with amused eyes as you pushed the garment off of his shoulders.

“What are you doing? I don’t think messing around tonight would be a good idea. I would hate for your father to walk in with me between your legs.”

You blushed before pulling Regulus into a kiss. Everything seemed to even out at this moment. Regulus’ trembling hands seemed to steady as he wrapped an arm around your waist to keep your body against his.

“Oh, we aren’t having sex tonight. You need some rest.”

You kissed Regulus once more before getting off of his lap to pull down the duvet. Regulus smirked when he noticed the bunny-themed sheets.

“Bunnies?”

You blushed.

“I’ve had these for years.”

“I like them.”

Regulus commented before taking his place on the side of the bed by the door. He knew that he had nothing to protect you from in your home but it felt right sleeping on this side.

“You do not.”

You replied with a snort before getting into bed beside him and snuggling down to his chest. Regulus’ long fingers toyed with your hair.

“I do because it's all you. Everything about you is good...except when you're hungry then you get a little mouthy.”

The two of you laughed quietly until Regulus turned on his side. He was more than ready to go to sleep and forget the bad part of the current day.

“Want to know the best part about this arrangement other than not having to be apart?”

“What’s that?”

Regulus asked with a yawn.

“We get to have our first Christmas together. Happy Christmas a day early.”

Regulus kissed your forehead before snuggling back into the pillow.

“Happy Christmas, darling.”

_________

@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @fific7 @realgaytrash @lucasfilms77 @quuenofblacks @jessyballet @knreidy1 @acciosiriusblack @whymyparentscheckmyphone @criminalyetminimal @bennyberry @teletubiswszpilkach @exhsle @hazncalsgal @rubyroscoe1 @spiderxalmighty @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @li0nh34rt @tas898 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @deanwherescas @stuckinsaudi1 @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

[kyidyl]

Kyidyl Explains Bone - Part 1

(These posts will be collected under the tag KyidylBones because I have the sense of humor of a 13 year old boy.  Also, I’m going to start cross-posting them to my science side blog @science-of-anthropology​ in an effort to like give people a place to go if they’re just here for these posts and not for my other random thoughts.  That blog also contains a lot of decent info from the days I was premed and taking premed physical science classes.)

Intro and Ethical Considerations

Ok, all you weird nerds out there (<3), how’s your day going? Good? Are you ready to hear me ramble about one of my favorite things on earth? Well, then gather ‘round ye old tumblr fire.  We’re gonna learn about *people*! Because all the stuff I taught you before was stuff you basically learn in anthropology undergrad and in a field school.  But! I *specialized*.  I have secret powe--*coughs* I mean, a special interest.  See, my favorite topic in the whole world, the one on which I will ADHD infodump for DAYS about if you let me, is the intersection of human evolution and culture.  My ultimate goal is either to work in a museum, or be a scientist that studies this.  That’s why I went out and got a masters.  

A bioarchaeology masters not only taught me how to dig up people, but a whole HOST of other things related to people and digging (Like genetics and using drones to survey an area for digging.). But before we can get into the details, there’s a few things you have to understand.  First: 

On sex, race, ethnicity, and gender

Anthropologists of all kinds are well, WELL aware that these 4 things are extremely fraught and extremely complicated.  Probably more aware than any of the other sciences.  But, when you learn to identify skeletons you learn to do it based on sex and race for a couple reasons: 

1. When identifying a body for the police department, their databases are entirely based on these identifying characteristics.  A lot of forensic anthropologists work with the police to identify remains.  If we can’t pick out demographic qualities then we’d never match them up to people in the missing persons database who are listed along a sex binary and racial categories.  But believe me when I tell you we all do it under duress and in annoyance because we know how complicated these things are for people.  

2. When dealing with populations that are gone and can’t tell us what they identified as, we arrange them by sex and race to make some sort of sense of the demographics of an area.  This is how we know, for example, that people from Africa intermingled early and often with people from Europe.  Being able to ID these markers on a skeleton is faster and cheaper than DNA tests and often the only method available, especially in prehistoric populations. 

So I will be discussing features on bones in these terms, but understand that it’s not my way of excluding trans people.  We, as of yet, just have no good way of *identifying* trans people in the archaeological record. 

And second:

Ethics

Ethics is a huge and thorny topic so I’m going to only make a couple notes here.  I bounced this series around in my head for awhile and the reason I didn’t do it sooner is that despite having human remains in my possession for legitimate scientific reasons, it’s extremely unethical for me to post pictures of them on the open internet.  The same goes for the tons of pictures I have of human remains from my masters studies.  To that ends, the images I’ll be using will fall into one of four categories: images from my textbooks, images on the public web that are available for educational use, and images of Bone Clones, and my own image of damage patterns on animal bones.  This is also a warning that, yes, there will be images of human remains here.  I’ve decided, though, that when a post starts to contain human remains, I’ll insert a cut.  So you will not be surprised by human remains randomly in your timeline.  

Now, here are some ethical things I need you guys to understand and adhere to: 

- These people had names in life, and you do not get to give them new ones.  Naming a skeleton is verbotten in archaeology circles, and often will extend to Bone Clones because they are casts of real bones. The correct terminology here is either “the/this individual” or “the remains”. If specificity is needed they’re either given an identification number or referred to by their demographic information.  If you have the name of the individual bc there was a gravestone or records, then it’s ok to use it.  Often we don’t though for privacy reasons.  

- These were people.  They had tastes, beliefs, people who loved them, etc. - all of which were different than mine or yours.  Please keep that in mind when commenting.  

- There is no ethical way for a lay person to obtain human remains, aside from direct donation by a relative or friend.  No, I don’t care what they website says in their statement about ethical sourcing.  They did NOT obtain the remains ethically.  The people who sold the remains almost always do so under duress, usually economic.  And if they weren’t given, they were stolen.  There is No.  Ethical.  Way.  To.  Purchase.  Human.  Bone.

- Modern bone collections obtained by institutions for education usually are obtained ethically.  Often via donation by a living donor before their death for the purpose of scientific education.  In other instances they are obtained from legally-dug excavations, from donation by family members (IE, no money exchanged and consent given.), or with some other kind of permission.  However, there are many existing bone collections that pre-date this practice and are NOT obtained ethically.  In the US these are undergoing identification (we’ll get to this in another post) and repatriation, but this is just one of the many thorny issues that physical anthropologists and archaeologists have to be aware of.  

- What other societies do with their human remains is going to seem strange and sometimes disgusting or objectionable to you.  Not always, but definitely sometimes.  This is their choice and in this house we respect the emic (within the social group) view on death rituals.  

I think that’s everything...if I remember more I’ll sprinkle them in as I go along.  Ethical violations are a Big Deal among archaeologists and other social scientists who handle human remains.  It’s one of the few things we don’t joke about (because as we all know, archaeologists are forces of chaos.).  The history of completely unethical treatment in the field makes us very sensitive to how human remains are handled and where they came from.  Questions are 100% fine - you all are still learning and I’m not gonna get mad at you for not knowing yet.  I’ll gently let you know if it’s inappropriate.  

So here’s the stuff I’m planning on getting to: 

Human vs. Animal

Sex identification.  

Racial identification.  

Age identification. 

Teeth! 

Damage to the skeleton (this might be two posts.).  

Other random stuff that might come up while I’m doing the other things.  

So....let’s begin....mwahahahahahahahaha. And for making it to the bottom of this post you get a bonus picture of me AND the dog:

His name is Gage, and my name is Kristina - you’re welcome to use it.  I know probably “Kyidyl” isn’t easy to say in your heads.  :) It’s pronounced kai-dul if you were every wondering tho.  Now you can put a face to the internet voice. :) 

[writesowhatnext]

what’s a little healthy competition? // oliver wood

Summary: Oliver Wood loves two things in this world: Quidditch and Hufflepuff!reader

Request: Have you ever thought of making an Oliver Wood or Percy Weasley oneshot? Maybe the reader is a bubbly and an outgoing hufflepuff and just pure fluff?

A/N: thank you for requesting oliver oml I love him (I chose him over percy bc I like him more)

Reader: unspecified, Hufflepuff

Warnings: none, I think?

“Did you hear, George? Harry’s our new seeker,” Fred said at the Gryffindor table during lunch, smirking.

“Nice one, Harry. So, you’ve met Wood then,” George continued, mirroring his brother’s expression.

“Yeah. He’s very…” Harry trailed off, frowning.

“Intense?”

“Mad?”

“Obsessed?”

“Deranged?”

“Scottish?”

George snorted at Fred, clearly impressed with the last description. Harry nodded slowly, remembering the way Oliver had wrestled that moving ball to the ground as if it was alive.

“All you need to know about Wood, Harry,” Fred started, crossing his arms. “Is that he loves two things in this world.”

“Quidditch,” George raised one finger, shooting a look at Fred before raising another. “And Y/N.”

Harry’s frown deepened as Ron sat down next to him, clearly disgruntled about something or other.

“Y/N? Who’s Y/N?”

George pointed behind him at the Hufflepuff table where Oliver was sat with someone he didn’t recognise, obviously a Hufflepuff themselves.

“Word to the wise, Harry,” Fred said, his smile audible even as Harry looked the other way. “You thought hearing Wood go on about Quidditch was bad, wait ‘til you get him started on Y/N.”

Oliver Wood, you had discovered in your fourth year, was an extremely competitive person. The first time you met him was on the pitch before your very first game as Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, a title you were honoured to be given.

“You two ready?” Madam Hooch asked, blinking at you with her yellow eyes. You nodded and turned to Oliver, decked out in his ruby red Gryffindor robes. He was tall, you noted, and more handsome than you’d anticipated.

“I hope you have a good game!” you said, smiling. He was struck by the lack of malice in your voice and the sweetness of your smile and for a moment, he forgot he was about to play Quidditch.

“You too,” he said quietly, frowning.

“Wood?” Madam Hooch said, growing impatient.

“Yes,” he said, before coughing and lowering his voice. “Ready.”

Your smile widened listening to his accent and almost immediately you took a likening to the guy.

Never in your life had you been as glad to be a chaser than in that match. Scoring goals was a speciality of yours, it had to be, really, and so you found yourself on your broom, opposite the Gryffindor Captain, with a quaffle in hand on more than one occasion. He was good, you’d have to give him that, and though he seemed to want to focus very hard on the game at hand, you noticed him watching you every so often. Whenever you scored, soaring into his blind-spots and catching him off guard, you’d shoot him a wink and relish in the delightfully bashful way he’d smile and look anywhere but you. It was a fun match and you didn’t even mind that their seeker caught the snitch.

You congratulated your team on their efforts, trying to turn their disappointed frowns upside down.

“Don’t worry, guys. You played incredibly and it was the most fun-“

Someone clearing their throat behind you drew your attention. Standing there, flushed and cheerful from his victory, was Wood, the Gryffindor captain.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, leaning forward and swallowing nervously, maybe because of you, maybe because of your audience. “I just didn’t catch your name… before, when we started the match.”

You smiled and he swore the clouds parted.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N,” he stood up straight, smirking a little with a new-found confidence. “You were excellent out there.”

“Clearly not as excellent as you,” you replied. He was pleasantly surprised at the lack of bite to your teasing.

“Well,” he smiled, looking to the ground and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “You did knock in a few blinders.”

“Cheers, Wood-”

“Oliver,” he said softly, mirroring your sweet smile.

“Oliver.” You repeated, enjoying the shape of his name on your tongue. “Your team played a brilliant game.”

You sent him one last grin before turning around, getting back to your players. He nodded at your back, exhaling rather shakily and returning to his celebrating team, trying to contain his smile.

He didn’t see you again until a few weeks later when he was taking his team out to practice on the field. You, with your bright yellow robes and radiant grin, were coming the opposite way, your own team in tow. Despite your eccentric coloured uniforms, you almost bumped into each other at the corner of the courtyard.

“Oh! Sorry,” you said, stepping back and meeting the eyes of none other than Oliver Wood.

“Not a bother,” he couldn’t help his immediate grin upon seeing you again before a frown creased his features. “Are you heading out to practice?”

“I noticed no one was out there so, I figured I would haul my team together.”

“We were thinking the same, actually.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment, both your teams uncharacteristically quiet at the standoff. You caught the eye of one of the Weasley twins, not unaware of his shit-eating grin.

“Well-“ you began, frowning.

“You can practice, we’ll book it another time,” Oliver said, earning a round of groans from his teammates.

“You sure?”

He enjoyed the way your eyes lit up at his offer and was eager to recreate it as many times as he was able.

“Of course,” he said, a smirk lifting his cheek. “You need the practice, anyway, don’t you?”

Your mouth dropped open at his teasing, tonguing your cheek and asjusting your grip on your broom.

“I’m going to let that go,” you whispered, leaning closer to him. “Because you are being so very kind.”

You stretched to your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, enjoying the way his skin flushed under your touch.

“See you around, Oliver,” you smiled, walking past him to the pitch, your team following, whispering between themselves. As you left, quite pleased with yourself, you heard the Gryffindor team erupt into teasing jeers, only serving to widen your grin.

It was a week later that you strolled up to the Gryffindor table, trying to suppress your grin at the sight of Oliver in his coned hat.

“You alright there, Y/N?” one of the twins asked when they saw you, drawing attention to your approach.

“Cracking game yesterday,” the other added with a grin.

“Cheers, boys.”

“How’re you doing today, Y/N?” Oliver asked, turning around on the bench to face you, an easy smile on his lips.

“Brilliant, actually. I’d be even better if you asked me to Hogsmeade.”

Your response stunned him into silence for a second before a smile tugged at his lips.

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

“What a fantastic idea; I thought you’d never ask.”

With that, you kissed your teeth and nodded, trying to hide your smile.

“I’ll swing by your common room at eleven?”

“Sounds perfect.”

That Hogsmeade trip was the best one you’d ever had, filled to the brim with laughing and talking and smiling. He even held your hand, his little finger fishing for yours until it curled around it, far too sweet to be casual. He showed you all the secret places you didn’t know about and in turn, you got him a discount at Honeyduke’s, thanks to the owner being a family friend. In all, it was almost the perfect date. He walked you back to Hogwarts, hand in hand, chatting the whole time. You could listen to him for hours, his accent like music to your ears.

“Oliver?” you asked, interrupting his rant about some Charms essay as you reached the castle. You turned towards him, grabbing both of his hands.

“Yes?”

“You know what would make this date even better?”

A smirk played on his lips.

“I could hazard a guess.”

With not a single moment’s hesitation, he leant forward and kissed you. Chaste, light and sweet, you couldn’t help but grin. You nudged him with your shoulder when he mirrored your expression and you started pulling each other along through the castle corridors, hand in hand. The start, you decided, of a very lovely relationship.

You and Oliver had been together about a year when Harry Potter ran into you in the corridor, scattering papers and ink pots and feathers everywhere.

“Oh!” you huffed, reaching to grab him before he fell backwards. You were much taller and much older than him and you’d almost sent him flying backwards. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, reaching down to collect loose pages of what looked like a Transfiguration essay. “It was my fault.”

He frowned when he looked up at you, staring far too long at your face. You realised, at that moment, that you had nearly body-slammed Harry Potter, the boy who lived.

“You know Wood, don’t you?”

You snorted, a smile playing on your lips.

“I should hope so,” you said, scraping together pieces of blank parchment and offering them to him. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh, I know.”

You raised your eyebrow in a silent question.

“He never shuts up about you.”

You exhaled sharply out of your nose, unable to hide your smile. Oliver could be such an idiot sometimes.

“I can tell him to stop-“

“No!” Harry insisted, his eyes growing wide. You raised your eyebrows at his shout, mouth parting into an incredulous smile. “If he’s not talking about you, he’s talking about Quidditch.”

You rolled your eyes, pursing your lips and nodding.

“That I can understand.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking around awkwardly. You chuckled, remembering how scared you would’ve been had a fifth year talked to you as a first year.

“You’re a great seeker, Harry,” you called, walking away to save him the awkwardness. “Keep it up.”

It wasn’t until your quidditch match against Slytherin that same day that you saw your boyfriend, all frantic eyes and incomprehensible muttering.

“I heard you’ve been talking about me,” you said, crossing your arms across your yellow robes and smiling. His muttering about your team and the game-plan ceased immediately and his brows dropped into a hard frown.

“Who said that?”

“So, you do talk about me!”

“Well…”

You shot him a dry look.

“Of course, I do,” he said, pulling you closer to him by the hand until you were chest to chest. “I’m completely in love with you.”

Your face heated up at his words and you were sure he could feel it as his hand cupped your cheek and he pressed his lips against yours.

“That’s a lot of sweet talk,” you whispered, your nose knocking against his as you pulled away. He tilted his head to the side, shrugging as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s sort of what I’m known for.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, of course. What else?”

“Your competitive streak?” you offered, pulling away so you could finish putting on your quidditch uniform. “The accent? Slight quidditch obsession?”

You could’ve carried on but he rolled his eyes, messing with your robes as you turned back to him. He adjusted your collar, letting his hands rest on your shoulders.

“Now,” he said, shooting you a smile. “Who’s the best quidditch player in the world?”

“Me?” you asked, knowing full well it would not be you.

“No,” he smiled. “That’s me. You, however, are a close second. And so, you’re definitely going to win today.”

“You think?”

“Oh, of course. You’re the best chaser I’ve ever seen. The most beautiful too.”

You tilted your head, expression dry. He shot you a charming grin.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Indeed, I am. Your idiot, though.”

You folded your lips together, looking at him with undeniable adoration.

“You’ll see me in the stands,” he said, nodding and stepping back, letting you get psyched into the game.

“I’m sure I’ll hear you.”

“Oh, you will. I’ll be the one shouting ‘Go Hufflepuff!’” he jested, shooting you a wink and disappearing from the changing room. You smiled as he left, unsure how you got so lucky.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@loveisblindness​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn

[nnightskiess]

santana lopez imagine

i kinda combined two requests together bc i thought they’d fit well!

a/n: this is for u elena. sorry you had to wait so long♡ 

also, i wanted to try and show that soft and nervous side of santana that came out at the beginning with dani, so i’m sorry if it feels out of character sometimes. (i did my best lol)

“So, what’s been going on with you? I haven’t seen you in a few months.” 

Y/N was having lunch with her friends from back home. It had been hard to keep in touch with them now that she had been living in New York for over a year. Not that she’d complain, since she gained multiple new friends and... well, a relationship. And not with just anyone— with Santana Lopez, whose singing career skyrocketed after a duet on Mercedes Jones’ album. She got a record deal a month after and her first EP was a hit. She went on tour with her first album but had vanished off the face of the earth after her very public breakup with her high school girlfriend and her backup dancer, Brittany S. Pierce. She stopped posting on social media, she wasn’t spotted by paparazzi anymore and her plans for a second album were now off the table. It was clear to everyone that the breakup had broken the girl. That was until she walked into the diner she used to work at and locked eyes with Y/N. Santana didn’t want to fall in love with anyone else and wasn’t completely over Brittany, so it wasn’t love at first sight. 

But the moment Y/N stole the show while taking the lead singing Shout by The Trammps, she knew there was something special about the girl. Was it her voice that Santana’s mind went to when she lied in bed that night? Or the twinkle in her eyes when she sang? Or perhaps the way her smile widened a tad bit more when she looked at Santana?  

Santana found herself go back to the diner on days where she’d rather sit in bed and cry. She’d forget her sorrow in moments they locked eyes but could cry again when Y/N wasn’t working that day. 

Santana had taken her notebook with her, the one she would never let anyone read— well, except for Brittany. It’s where most of her songs were born and where her most delicate and vulnerable thoughts were being kept. She’d never been too keen on sharing emotions with everyone, so writing them down was a great alternative. 

“I normally wouldn’t ask, but I’ve seen you here with that notebook now at least a couple of times... Are you writing a book?”

Santana’s head shot up. Y/N was standing next to her table, wiping her hands onto her apron.

Santana cracked a soft smile, “No—actually, I’m writing songs... a song... well, trying to, at least. My label wants-” She swallowed her sentence, she didn’t want this girl to know about any of that drama. 

Y/N seemed to ignore it.

“You sing?”

Santana nodded but furrowed her eyebrows when Y/N sat down in front of her. “Go on, then. Let me hear what you’ve got so far.”

“Oh, no no no-”

Y/N pursed her lips, “Did it happen not too long ago?” she asked after a couple of seconds of Santana trying to get out of this situation. 

She rose her eyebrows, unsure of how Y/N read the situation so well, 

“It’s actually been a while but it still hurts.” She caught herself confessing.

“Then I won’t pry. I’ll leave you to it.” Y/N slid out of the booth, “Oh, and— I happen to know that our strawberry milkshake is the best medicine to heartbreak. It’s on me.”

“Thanks...” Santana watched her leave into the kitchen and immediately rubbed her temples when the girl left her sight. No, no, no, no. Not again. But wasn’t this exactly the reason she had started visiting the diner more and more? To spike up a conversation with the girl? She cursed at herself, stood up, grabbed her stuff and left the diner. She wasn’t ready yet. She could take the short glances and attention, but that was the line. The only woman she had truly trusted was no longer with her, she couldn’t open up to anyone again. 

Through the window of the diner she could see the girl with a disappointed expression on her face the moment she realised Santana had left. But Santana didn’t turn around and kept walking. 

✫彡

“Okay, stop crushing my spirit. I wanted a nice dinner with you.”

“Then you should’ve just asked Berry over for dinner. I’m sure she’d tell you all about her awfully cheerful day.”

Kurt put his hand on Santana’s so that she would stop playing with her food. She glared at him. 

“You can glare at me all you want, but we’re not going to brush things under the carpet. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Santana dropped her cutlery and sat back, crossing her arms. “We’re not talking about Britt again. You want to help me move on? Then fucking stop bringing it up.”

“No, not that. There’s something else. I can sense it.”

“Since when do you have a Mexican third eye as well?”

“Off topic.” Kurt waved her off. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Santana lowered her head and slightly looked up at him, trying to decide wether to share or not. 

“Is the label pressuring you?” He tried.

Santana sighed, “Well, yes, that too.”

Kurt waited patiently for Santana to feel comfortable enough to share the rest.

“They were okay with delaying the start of my second album but now they’re starting to breathe down my neck. They say it’s been long enough and that i’m just deadweight they have to pay but get nothing in return for, which is fair— but still. I’m only human, I’m not some super song-writing machine like Mercedes.”

“I thought you loved writing songs?”

“Yeah... when I had Brittany.” Santana looked at her lap and started playing with her hands. “Now that I don’t have her... I can’t seem to even write one sentence... and when I do, they’re all just too gloomy or depressing.”

Kurt nodded in understanding. “Well, Adele wrote one whole album about her breakup which sold like Wonka bars. Who says you can’t?”

Santana shook her head, “You don’t get it. I don’t want to sing about her anymore, even though it might help me move on. But the thing is...” she bit her lip, “I can’t. I don’t want to.”

“Then write about how you can’t write. Write about how you want to feel instead of feeling like your heart has been ripped out. Write about conquering this heartbreak, like a powerful song?”

“How?” Santana looked up, tears in her eyes. 

“By remembering who you were before.”

“But I’ve been with Britt for as long as I-”

Kurt shook his head and waved his hands around, “No, think of the Santana in high school. You were fierce, strong, not afraid to speak your mind but you also had a big heart. You didn’t want to show it often but we all knew yours was just as big, if not bigger, as ours. Remember how it felt every time you got a solo and when you stood on the stage? Write about that feeling. Write about feeling on top of the world again.”

“Thanks, Hummel.”

He smiled at her and squeezed her hands, “Anytime. Now eat before it gets cold. I didn’t spend two hours in the kitchen for nothing.”

✫彡

Santana walked out off the apartment she had rented after her breakup with Brittany and crossed the street. She needed some fresh air and a distraction from her song-writing. Spring was around the corner but it was still very chilly in the big city, so she held the collar of her coat while walking through the tiny park close to her block. She started humming the melody she’d just come up with. Something just didn’t feel right yet.

Santana saw people look at her as they passed by but hoped that the big sunglasses on her face would keep them guessing of her identity. No matter how much she loved the attention from her fans, she sometimes just wanted to be normal and not have to pose for selfies every damn day.

“Hey, you!”

She sighed and stopped to turn around since she’d look like a real ass if she didn’t. She half expected to be met with a group of teenage girls with their phones ready to snap a picture, but instead she locked eyes with the girl from the diner.

“I think you dropped this.”

The girl apparently didn’t seem to recognise her thanks to the shades, and she handed her a crumbled piece of paper.

“Oh— um, thanks.” Santana gave her a tight-lipped smile. She stared back at the girl.

“I know you.”   (weren’t you in a movie with my sister? lmao sorry i had to, let’s continue)

Oh, no. The girl couldn’t find out that Santana was the woman who had basically stood her up after their talk in that diner.

She let out a breathy chuckle, “Do you?” 

“Yeah, you look familiar.” Something in Santana hoped that the girl recognised her for being a celebrity, not for what happened a week ago.

Y/N shamelessly looked her up and down before snapping her finger.

“Milkshake girl. I recognise your voice.”

Santana smiled awkwardly. Great, now she definitely looked like a douche. 

“Sorry about that, by the way... I-”

“No need to apologise. I probably came on too strong, sorry for giving you the wrong impression. I only wanted to cheer you up.” She smiled back, “It’s a shame though, it was a great milkshake.”

Santana’s expression softened, relieved at how well the girl had taken it. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you again after that... You used to come in every few days. Is it my fault? Gunther would kill me if I lost him a customer. Wait— Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business.”

Santana smiled and removed her glasses.

“If he ever gets mad at you, just give him a box of Yeast-I-Stat. That’ll pretty much shut him up.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, “How do you-”

“I worked there for a long time when I first moved to New York.” Santana shrugged, “I was pretty desperate for any kind of job when I landed that commercial.”

“Oh my God, you’re the Yeast-I-Stat girl!? I knew I recognised you from somewhere else, too.” The girl gasped, “I like yeast in my bagel... but not in my muffin.” She mocked and laughed afterwards.

“Oh, shut up, will you?” Santana shook her head in amusement, kinda glad those days were over.

“Is that really what you know me of?”

“Yeah, what else should I know you of? Any other embarrassing first-job commercials I should know about?”

Santana was about to mention her career but stopped herself. Clean slate. She wasn’t a celebrity in her private life. Besides, she didn’t want the girl to think she was bragging.

“No... thank God.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds before smiling.

“I’m Y/N.” She held out her hand for Santana to shake.

“Santana.”

Y/N smiled at her with the most adorable smile ever. Santana didn’t miss the twinkle in her eyes. 

She blinked a few times before shaking her head, “So, yeah. I should get going.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I have to go, too...”

“Bye...” 

Santana waved softly as the girl turned around and walked off.

Clean slate, Santana.

✫彡

“They’re doing a Gloria Estefan night at the Spotlight Diner. We should totally go.”

“Not that I’m complaining, but that sounds out of character for the diner.” Rachel shrugged.

“I guess they finally had a cultural awakening.” Santana was mindlessly scrolling through her phone. “They’re probably too white to sing her Spanish songs though, bet they’re gonna butcher it.”

“So that’s a no for reserving us a table?” Kurt turned to the two.

“No, I wanna go.” 

“Count me in, too. I love ‘Conga’.”

Santana rolled her eyes, “That’s the only song you know of her, isn’t it?”

“No...”

“Keep next Friday night free.” 

✫彡

They walked in as ‘A Bailar’ by Gloria silently played over the speakers in the background. Santana scanned the room, shamelessly trying to find the girl she was looking for. Unfortunately, she was nowhere in sight. 

Kurt waved his hand and one of the waitresses came to take their order. They talked a bit as they waited for their food. Every time Santana saw a girl in the red outfit walk by from the corner of her eyes, her head would shot up, only to be disappointed again when it wasn’t Y/N.

“Tana, stop ogling everyone. Your food’s getting jealous.” Rachel pointed at the untouched plate in front of her. 

A few minutes later, their heads shot to the door as Y/N bursted through it. She quickly fixed her hair that was messed up by the wind and quickly tied a white apron around her waist. Gunther came from behind the counter. Though they couldn’t hear what he said, it was clear she was in trouble. He kept pointing his finger at her chest before snatching the apron off her waist and sending her into the back. 

“Oh, I bet she’s on cleaning duty now. Remember when I got an hour late because I was held up at an audition?”

Kurt and Rachel started talking but Santana wasn’t paying attention. 

Santana furrowed her eyebrows until she got a call from her PR manager. She declined and a few seconds after, she got a text.

Santana’s stomach sank and she froze. New relationship? Brittany had already moved on? Yet she still spent every day moping around, overthinking everything that had happened, unable to write any song that wasn’t about the blonde. Brittany was already giving someone else all her love? How was that fair? How was she even able to do that?

“Santana?”

“You alright?”

She snapped out of it and gave them a tightlipped, fake smile. There was no time for them to question her any further as Rachel let out a startled yelp when suddenly the first notes of ‘Conga’ blasted through the diner. The lights flickered and changed colour on the beat. Santana rolled her eyes, of course they’d start with that song. 

Girls started dancing through the pathways and tried to hype everyone up. Kurt was shimmying along and Rachel was nodding her head to the beat, a big smile on her face. Santana tried to blend but she was busy biting her lip to stop herself from crying. 

The percussion band on the little stage started playing ‘Cuba Libre’. A girl danced her way onto the stage and sang the Spanish verse. She was clearly hispanic since her pronunciation was great. Two girls started dancing on the counter and another helped someone up—Y/N. 

‘Cuba Libra’ faded into the chorus of ‘Turn the Beat Around’ to which Y/N took the lead. Santana’s frown softened at seeing the girl perform, but she still couldn’t shake the thought of Brittany off.

Santana sank back into her seat and crossed her arms, wanting to go home and crawl into her bed and not leave it for the next couple of days. She hadn’t even realised that another song was already playing and that the girls were pulling people out of their seats to ‘Get on Your Feet’. 

Y/N spotted Santana in the crowd and walked over to her, but Santana wouldn’t crack a smile. Y/N kept singing to her until she’d turn around. Kurt softly shook his head at the girl, telling her that she should leave Santana alone. But what he didn’t know, was that the girls already knew each other. Y/N noticed how Santana pursed her lips, not giving in to her. 

Y/N grabbed her shoulders, bent down to her height and slowly made the girl turn.

She sang to her,

“Deep in your heart is the answer. Find it, I know it will pull you through. Get on your feet!”

She leaned over to grab Rachel and Kurt’s hands, helping them stand up. Almost everyone in the diner was up and dancing right now, except for Santana. Kurt gave her a look, telling her to suck it up. 

“I think it's true that we've all been through some nasty weather,” Y/N turned to dance with one of her co-workers. She felt Santana look at her and walked back up to her. She danced around her. “Let's understand that we're here to handle things together.”

Y/N stuck out her tongue at Santana’s stoic expression, trying to break her. And it worked, Santana let out a soft chuckle and shook her head in amusement. Both Y/N and Kurt held out a hand for her to take. She rolled her eyes and stood up. The four of them danced together for a few seconds until Y/N walked back to the other girls. They ended the song on the stage, where everyone left but Y/N. They went back to eating their dinner as the next few songs would be slow and easy on the ears. 

Y/N sat down on the stool next to the guitarist. He started playing the soft notes of ‘Wrapped’. Kurt and Rachel went back to eating their food but Santana was too mesmerised by the girl to engage in their conversation. The soft light that was shining down on her made her look like she was the only one in the room. And judging by the look on the girl’s face while she sang, she felt like she was the only one in the room too. She hadn’t once opened her eyes the first minute, she was just so indulged in the song. 

A small smile made its way onto Santana’s face at the sight. She knew how good it felt to be so into a song that you could just forget the world around you— to find your corner of the sky. It was very obvious that Y/N felt at ease, even while performing in front of people. It was rare to see people be so clearly in love with what they were doing. 

Santana grabbed her phone, opened Instagram and decided to film this moment. Y/N’s face wasn’t recognisable from the distance where Santana was filming from so she decided to just put it into her story. Everyone deserved to see this. 

Was this positive and uplifting enough?

✫彡

‘What we know of Santana and Brittany’s breakup...’

‘Read what Brittany S Pierce has to say about her ex’

‘Santana’s social media silence over?’

‘Santana Lopez still in love or in love again?’

And many more headlines had been posted after that Friday. Santana got a lot of followers after her first post in over a year. She had also gotten a lot of hate, which was something she hadn’t missed. Brittany hadn’t said one bad word about their relationship or about Santana but for some reason she still received backlash. Brittany spoke so highly about Santana and all the questions were answered with respect. But Santana wasn’t surprised about that at all, that was just how Brittany was.

There were still people—mainly Brittany fans—who blamed Santana and made all kinds of crazy assumptions about what had happened. 

“Just delete the app. You don’t need that kind of toxic energy around you.”

Y/N was filling the ketchup bottles while she sat in front of Santana. 

How had this happened, you ask? One of Y/N’s coworkers had recognised her on Santana’s story and pointed it out to her. When Santana visited the diner again, Y/N had jokingly apologised about not knowing who she was before, to which Santana had replied,

“You knew who I was. You knew the real me. Not the celebrity or crazy hot girl from the Yeast-I-Stat commercials.”

After that, Santana made sure to come round when Y/N was done or only doing little chores. 

Y/N loved that she got a new friend and Santana was glad that she finally had someone who she could start over with. Someone who didn’t know her from back in high school and someone who didn’t become friends with her solely for the fact that she was famous.

“I can’t. They want me to post at least once a week.” Santana groaned, “I don’t even know what to post. All I do is sleep, try to write and go here.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes until Y/N opened her mouth again.

“Why are tomatoes the slowest vegetables?”

Santana furrowed her eyebrows, giving her a look. 

“No guesses? Well, they can’t ketchup.”

Santana snorted and shook her head. “Wow, okay. I’m going to pretend you didn’t just make an awful joke.”

“Yeah, you go do that while I bring these to the back.”

Santana watched her leave and sighed. The past week had been hell for Santana. She yearned for every little bit of attention from Y/N and her insides turned to mush whenever the girl smiled at her. But something held her back. She didn’t want to fall in love again. Not yet, not when she still held her high school sweetheart in her heart. But it was so hard to not stare at Y/N or freak out whenever she called her on the phone. 

“Ready?”

Santana laughed at the huge guitar in Y/N’s hands. She seemed so small now. 

“What’s that for?”

“You said you didn’t know what to post. You should post a little acoustic cover of that song I helped you finish last week?”

Santana looked at her, contemplating if she should agree or not. 

“Can you even play?”

Y/N smiled sheepishly, “Only that song. I practiced the chords all week. But hey, if I mess up— just know that i’m willing to publicly embarrass myself just to help you out.”

Santana smiled at her in adoration. “Fine. Okay.”

They walked to the vacant stage and put Santana’s phone on the sheet music standard.

“Oh-I... I’ll scoot out of the frame if me being in it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

Y/N laughed, “People might assume we’re together after all the assumptions about you in the magazines. That would be weird.”

Santana’s expression faltered. “O-Oh...yeah.. it would...” She faked a smile.

Y/N started strumming the guitar.

(radio silence by naya rivera)

Santana closed her eyes as she started singing. It was clear to everyone that this song was about Brittany and she wasn’t ready yet to let them hear the whole song. It felt too personal to give it away just like that. Which is why they decided to do just a snippet. 

She opened her eyes and looked at Y/N when one chord sounded terrible. You could hear Y/N giggle from behind the phone. Santana smiled wide and had a hard time singing without laughing. Y/N stuck out her tongue as she seemed focused on getting the next one right. Santana unintentionally looked at her longingly the last few notes but broke out of it when Y/N stopped playing. 

✫彡

Should she be thanking the tabloids? No, never. However, she couldn’t deny that they had been the reason why Y/N had even brought it up. 

“Do you like me?” 

Santana widened her eyes.

“And I don’t mean as friends. I mean like-like. Do you like-like me?”

“I-uh, I-” Santana stammered. 

“It would be really embarrassing if you didn’t, to be honest.”

Santana gave her a wary but panicked look.

“Because I do... like-like you, I mean.”

“Wow, wait— what?”

She opened and closed her mouth until she saw the honesty on Y/N’s face who let her statement linger in the air, hoping that Santana would say something. But the silence only heightened her nerves

“Santana-”

“I can’t... I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

She quickly grabbed her stuff and left the diner, just like she had done the first time. 

She rushed home, biting her lip to prevent the tears in her eyes from falling. The second she unlocked her front door, she let them go. Santana tried to control her sobs as she sat on the couch, holding her head in her hands. 

Her safety net whenever she felt lost or emotional— Brittany — was gone, what was she supposed to do now? She let out another sob as she missed Britt’s arms holding her close. 

She reached for her phone without a second thought and dialled the woman’s number. Brittany picked up after a few seconds, much to Santana’s surprise.

“Hey, um, Santana. What’s up?”

Brittany decided to break the ice, but all formalities were thrown out the window when she heard the Latina let out another sob.

“Santana, are you okay?! What’s happened? Where are you?”

Was she okay? No. But what was she supposed to tell Brittany? That it was partly because of her?

“Please, say something, Tana. I’m worried.”

Santana held the bridge of her nose and let out a big, shaky sigh.

“Please forget that I called, this was a mistake. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

She hung up. But the phone rang after a few seconds. Santana tossed it next to her on the couch and rubbed her forehead. How could she have been so stupid?

It rang again. And again, and then another three times. Santana stared at the screen long and hard before picking it up. 

“Don’t shut me out, please. You know I still care about you when something’s wrong.”

Santana let out a huff and Brittany knew exactly what that meant.

“Santana, listen— I am so, so sorry for what happened. I too thought that we would be the happiest and sappiest couple forever but... some things just... happen. And I still completely understand how hard it was for you to stay friends with me without being with me and I’m so terribly sorry for that they brought you up in that interview— but I meant everything I said, Santana. You were the best thing that happened to me back then. And to me you still are my best and most incredible friend but... that’s just it.”

A long pause.

“And I kind of really miss hanging out with you and so does Lord Tubbington so if you’re comfortable with the idea, would you want to get together sometime soon? Wait— not get together-together, just... argh, you know what I mean.”

“How did you do it?” Santana broke her silence. “What changed in your mind for you to get the closure you needed? Because I never fucking got it.”

Brittany kept quiet, knowing there was more to follow.

“I have spent a whole year feeling like absolute shit, but I knew... that there was no way that we’d ever get together again. But the closure? Nope.” She furrowed her eyebrows in frustration. “And lately there’s been this incredible girl in my life and guess what? You two are fighting for first place in my head and I can’t help but want to push her out because I’m not ready to let her stay there until you are completely out of my thoughts.”

She heard Brittany let out a breath.

“Sant-”

“Oh, no, no, no. I don’t need a pity-party. I don’t-”

“Santana Lopez, listen to me.” Brittany raised her voice. “If your plan is to sabotage your own happiness, then congratulations— you’re well on your way. It’s no wonder that you’re having a hard time moving on. I mean, one— I’m a catch but two, we were together since high school, that’s a long time. We were each other’s first loves and truth be told, you never really forget those. You’ll compare every following relationship to that one, even if it was full of flaws. Truth is, you’ll never be able to move on or get the closure until you open yourself up to idea of loving someone else again. And I know how you work— you don’t ever want to open up to someone again but... if you give this girl a chance, who knows? She might be the one to change your mind. And I’ll cross my fingers she will. I hope she’ll kick me off first place like a rugby player.” Brittany snorted at her own joke. 

“Because you deserve a special someone too, Santana. And if you still don’t have the closure you need... I loved you, I cared for you, and in a way I still do. But we won’t ever get together again. That ship has sailed. I want you to be happy and I want to see you flourish in every aspect of life, just... without me being your special someone. I’d still very much like to be by your side, though, but as a friend.”

Santana let the words sink in until she suddenly widened her eyes. 

“I am such a fucking idiot.”

“Um... are we having the same phone call? Because I’m lost...”

“She told me she liked me and I ran out.”

“Was that metaphorically speaking or did you literally run out?”

“Like a chicken, Brittany.”

“Santana!? Be Chicken Little and run back!” Brittany exclaimed, “But watch out for the traffic, please, because that would be a tragic end to the story....and it would be animal abuse...”

Santana smiled softly, missing this side of Brittany.

“Okay, okay!” She laughed. 

“Keep me posted?”

Santana hummed, “Thank you, Britt.”

“Of course. You’re still my best friend, even if we haven’t seen each other in over a year. Go get the girl.”

✫彡

Santana hesitantly walked back into the diner. It wasn’t rush hour so there were only a few people having a drink.

“See you guys tomorrow!”

Y/N walked out of the backroom and froze in her spot when she saw Santana looking at her. A tightlipped, awkward smile appeared on her face and she tried to walk passed her but Santana grabbed her hand. 

“Wait, I-...I need to tell you something.”

Santana looked the girl in her eyes, seeing the anticipation and worry in them. But then she saw something else, she saw the same twinkle in her eyes when Y/N sang so beautifully that night. Only this time they were twinkling because she was looking at Santana.

She grabbed the girl’s cheek and planted a chaste kiss on Y/N’s lips. Y/N widened her eyes at first but kissed back. They parted when a bell coming from the kitchen interrupted them.

“So much for needing to tell me something...” Y/N chuckled heartily, “But I guess I got what you were trying to say.”

“You guess?” Santana shot back.

“Yeah... I’m still slightly confused...”

“How’s this?” Santana grabbed her by the waist and kissed her again. Y/N slowly tapped the girl on her chest when things started to get heated.

“Let’s keep it PG, we’ve got an audience.” 

Santana bit her lip in embarrassment when she saw that all eyes were on them now.

“But your message was loud and clear this time.” Y/N whispered in her ear and gave her one of the most adorable smiles.

“Oh...” Santana let out a breathy chuckle and looked at the ground. Being nervous was so out of character for her, but whenever it came to her and relationships she was always a simp for her significant other.

“But... can we take it slow? Because-”

Y/N nodded immediately. “I know, you don’t have to tell me. We’ll take it slow.”

✫彡

Y/N sat on Santana’s bed, reading a book while the Latina was trying to write a new song for her album. She heard yet another paper being ripped apart, followed by a loud groan. 

“Baby, you okay?”

Y/N bent over the couch and hugged Santana’s neck from behind, planting a kiss on her temple. Santana sighed and sat back, feeling more relaxed the second Y/N’s arms wrapped around her.

“It’s not working. I can’t seem to get my exact feelings onto paper and what I have now doesn’t even do it a little bit of justice.”

“The break-up song? Let me see-” Y/N went to reach for the notebook but Santana immediately turned around and smiled.

“You know what? I’m starving, and I want to take you out.”

“Oh— are you sure? We just had-”

“I’m sure. I need a break anyway.”

“Okay...well, let me get a jacket.”

Santana watched Y/N walk into the other room before quickly hiding the notebook behind the couch pillows again. She’d feel so embarrassed if Y/N ever read any of her love songs to her. Truth be told, ever since their first kiss in the diner, Santana had found her new muse. She had written a lot of songs since then but not one seemed to be good enough or do the girl justice. Besides, if Y/N read the lyrics to this song... Well, it would make or break their relationship and Santana wasn’t going to lose someone again.

“Let’s go.”

✫彡

“But I can tell my friends, right?”

“Baby, of course you can.”

“Sweet! I’m going to see them again next week. Can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they see you.”

“Oh, I’m... not sure if going with you is such a good idea.”

“I forgot— we’re taking things slow.” Y/N nodded to herself, “Sorry, I get too excited sometimes.”

Santana caressed the girl’s head and planted a kiss on it, “It’s okay. Soon.”

✫彡

“So, what’s been going on with you? I haven’t seen you in a few months.”

Y/N took a sip of her drink, “Well, i’m still working at the diner, that hasn’t changed. And-”

“You’re in love.”

“How-”

“I can sense it. Also, you've posted a lot of cheesy and soft quotes on your twitter so that was a dead give-away.”

“Well, yes. I’m dating someone.”

“Boy? Girl?”

“Girl, duh.” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Oh my God, Y/N!” Her friend squealed, “Who is it? Show me a picture, let me approve.”

“It’s Santana Lopez.”

The two friends fell quiet.

“The famous singer?” One of them asked.

“Hun, she’s hardly famous anymore. Are we sure she still even exists?”

“Hey!” Y/N pouted. “But I’m telling you the truth. It’s Santana.”

“Real funny, she doesn’t even live in New York.”

“Uh, yeah, she does.”

“No, she doesn’t. TMZ said she moved back to Ohio after the break-up.”

Y/N shook her head, “They also said she started dating a 80 year-old billionaire and bought a pet alpaca, which I think is ridiculous. You’re too gullible.”

Her friend shrugged, “Perhaps, yeah. But hey, it’s okay if you don’t want to tell us who it really is yet.”

Y/N rolled her eyes when they switched the topic.

✫彡

“How did it go, babe? Were you happy to see them again?”

“You’re not going to believe me but they thought I was joking.”

“Joking about what?”

Y/N sat down next to Santana on the couch, immediately cuddling up to her. “Well, they didn’t believe I was dating you.”

“Why would they not believe you?”

“I think you forgot that you’re kinda famous.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m hardly famous.”

Y/N mocked her, earning a playful punch in the shoulder from Santana but her smile soon disappeared.

“Um...”

“No bad news, please!” Y/N immediately noticed the change in Santana.

“No, no, don’t worry. I mean, I don’t think it’s bad news— it’s just... a lot...to deal with right now.”

“Just rip the bandaid off.”

Santana grabbed her phone and showed Y/N the post.

“Oh...” Y/N swiped and saw that she had been photographed as well.

“I know we said we would take things slow so I’m so sorry that the media is trying to fuck that up again.” Santana examined Y/N, who was difficult to read. “This is exactly what ruined everything last time. Fuck! Here I thought it would be different this time around. I should’ve never-”

“Santana, sshh.” Y/N grabbed her hand, trying to calm her down. “Stop thinking.” 

Santana looked up like a sad puppy.

“Nothing is getting ruined again. Not on my watch.” She put the phone on the coffee table, “Let’s just ignore that. Let them start rumours, let them guess, let them make up drama but the only two people who really know the truth are you and I. It’s our life, not theirs. So no matter what they will say, I will love you unconditionally for as long as you want me to... and I will never feel differently... about you.” 

Santana's head shot up, looking puzzled and panicked at the same time.

“W-Where did you get that from?”

Y/N smiled at Santana and caressed her cheek, “You need to find better hiding places, babe.”

Y/N suddenly looked worried, “Unless that song wasn’t about me... then... well, this is awkward. Just-”

“I love you.” Santana cut her off, tears in her eyes. She felt the urge to pinch herself but decided it would look silly. Was she really in love again after all that she’d been through? 

“I love you too, unconditionally. And... you better make that song your first single.”

✫彡

“Guys, I’m literally in the pictures with her?!”

“Yah, but you look more like a fan of her than her girlfriend, look at you... swooning.”

“I mean, yes, I adore everything she does...”

Y/N’s friend leaned over and smiled, “So you’re really dating the Santana Lopez?”

“I mean, I sure hope she does...” Santana walked up to their table in the little cafe, startling Y/N’s friends while the girl just looked at them with a smirk on her face. Finally.

Santana sat down next to her and gave her girlfriend a kiss before turning back to the two friends sitting in front of them.

“Is that enough proof or do you need me to bend her o-”

“That’s enough!” Y/N gave Santana a playful slap across the head. 

“Oh my God, no!” Y/N’s friend exclaimed, “Speak for yourself! Imagine the money I’d make with a tape of that! I’d finally be the rich bitch I’ve always been deep down.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes at him and it earned a laugh from Santana, “I like you.” 

“Why, muchas gracias.”

“Wow, thanks for completely taking my spotlight. Hi, i’m her best friend, he’s just our accessory.”

“Excuse me?!”

Y/N shook her head at the two of them. 

“Are you regretting you came along?” Y/N turned to her girlfriend.

“We wouldn’t judge you if you said yes, to be honest.” Her friend laughed. 

Santana smiled at them, “No, it’s been a while since I met new people and you two seem fun and well, you mean a lot to this one over here so I’m happy to be here.”

Y/N snuggled up to Santana and put her head on her shoulder.

“Alright, go and make me jealous. It’s fine.”

“Shut up! Now tell us how you two met, please!”

✫彡

Santana couldn’t stop playing with her fingers and the bracelets on her wrist as the hours passed. Only a few more minutes now until her new song ‘My Unconditional Love’ would go online, for the world to hear. There had been a lot of speculations about the two women the past few months, but they had tried to be more discreet when they were outside. Much to the dismay of the paparazzi and tabloids. This song would basically be a dead give away to their relationship but she didn’t care. This song already meant so much to her and Santana hoped she could write plenty more songs like these about Y/N.

“Are you having second thoughts?”

Y/N’s voice interrupted her thinking.

“Wh- No, never! It’s probably my favourite song I ever wrote... it’s just... nerve-wracking, is all.”

“C’mere.”

Santana walked into Y/N’s open arms and let out a big sigh at the feeling of her arms around her. 

“You’ve come a long way and I am so proud of you... but most of all, I’m happy to be on this ride with you. I know this song will point a lot of fingers to us dating but hey, like we said before— no one needs to know but us and our friends and families. Capiche?”

Santana nodded and grabbed the girl’s cheeks, “I’m so happy with you.”

They both beamed from ear to ear until the bell rang. Santana opened the door. 

“I’m so excited!” Kurt squealed and dragged Rachel along inside.

“It’s time, guys!” Y/N sang as she appeared from the kitchen, trying to balance a tray with four champagne glasses on it. 

“Hook your phone up to the speakers!” Rachel grabbed a glass. Santana’s new song started playing which earned raised eyebrows from the three others.

“This isn’t the same song you sent me?!” Kurt exclaimed.

“No, it is. It’s just not the slow version. I’m keeping that version for us.” Santana grabbed Y/N’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It felt too special to share.”

“Well, damn, I’m digging this one, too!”

They started dancing together to the upbeat song. Y/N kept staring at Santana, who seemed too excited and happy to notice.

Her unconditional love.

[whorefordean]

daddy issues

JJ Maybank x Reader

tw: language, mentions of abuse, angsty

wc: 1.4k

requested: yes! (by anon)

based on daddy issues by the neighborhood (loosely) (also I do skip some lyrics and don't use the whole song)

I hope you enjoy bc I kinda like this one!

also thanks for 800 followers!!! <3

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

Take you like a drug

I taste you on my tongue

You ask me what I'm thinking about

I'll tell you that I'm thinking about

Whatever you're thinking about

You and JJ were laying in an open field two hours away from the Cut on the mainland, staring at the night sky above you.  You were babbling back and forth for a while, passing a blunt every so often.  

“Where do you think we’ll be after all this?” JJ asked as he passed the blunt back to you after taking a hit.  You accepted it with a shrug, inhaling while thinking of your answer.  

“After we die?” You asked, confused.  You and JJ already had this conversation, multiple times, actually.  

“After highschool.  After the obx,” JJ clarified.  You shrugged again.  

“I don’t think I’ll ever make it out,” You answered somberly, passing the blunt back to JJ.  

“Why not?” JJ questioned, sitting up as he took the blunt back.  

“Because my dad’s a jackass, and I think he’ll kill me if I try to leave,” you confessed, copying JJ’s movements and sitting up, as well.  

JJ remained quiet for a while.  You laid back down, looking at the stars for a while, thinking about what you had said.  You knew you and JJ had similar problems with your fathers, but maybe it was too much for him.  Maybe he hadn’t expected your blunt answer.  

“What’s on your mind, J?” You finally spoke up when the silence from him became too loud.  

“Whatever’s on yours,” JJ answered after a moment.  It was your turn to remain quiet.  

Tell me something that I’ll forget

But you might have to tell me again

It's crazy what you do for a friend

Go ahead and cry, little girl

Nobody does it like you do

 “Let’s run away,” JJ spoke up after a moment.  

“What?” You laugh.  You looked over, only to be met with a serious-looking JJ.  

“You heard me, Y/n,” JJ spoke firmly, shocking you.  

“Ask me when you’re sober, JJ,” You scoffed.  JJ continued staring at you, intensely.  

“Tell me you’d do it.  You’d run away if I asked you when I was sober,” JJ demanded.  

“Fuck, J!  Yeah, I would!  I’d run away with you in a heartbeat.  But it doesn’t matter because we’ll forget about this.  We’ll go back to our shitty homes and forget!” You cried out.  JJ simply nodded.  

“But we could do it,” JJ whispered, scooting closer to you and draping his arm over your shoulder.  

“We can’t, J.  They’ll find us,” You replied weakly, trying to hold in your tears.  Your eyes were burning, and you could feel your lip quiver.  Don’t cry.  

“You can cry, Y/n.  I won’t judge,” JJ whispered gently.  You nodded before burying your head into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso.  You sobbed into JJ’s shoulder for a while as JJ simply rubbed your back reassuringly.  

I know how much it matters to you

I know that you got daddy issues

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

I love that you got daddy issues

And I do too

“I know that you still care about him, and that’s okay.  He’s your dad, Y/n.  You just wanna see the best in him,” JJ stated.  But why did you feel like shit for thinking he’d stop hurting you?  He’s your dad.  He’s supposed to love you.  So why didn’t he?

“I just want him to care, J,” You sobbed.  

“I know.  I understand, babe.  My old man’s hated me for as long as I can remember.  I get it,” JJ answered.  The night ended with you and JJ holding each other under the stars, grasping each other so tight for reassurance that your hands cramped and your bodies shook.  

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

I know that you got daddy issues

It had been a few weeks since you and JJ had the heart to heart under the stars.  You were now sitting on the HMS Pogue with the others.  

“Have you thought about it?” JJ asked quietly from his spot beside you on the boat.  You turn to face him with furrowed brows.  

“About what?” You laughed lightly.  JJ stared at you in disbelief before answering. 

“Running away,” JJ mumbled under his breath.  You shook your head and watched as he slumped his tanned shoulders.  

“I thought you were kidding, JJ,” You answered, running a hand through your hair with a sigh.  

“I’d do anything to get you away from here.  To get us away from here.  We could get married and have a normal life,” JJ said seriously, grabbing your hand in his.  

“You’d marry me?” You teased with a small smile.  

“I’d run away and hide with you if you asked me to,” JJ smiled before kissing your forehead.  

“Come on, love birds,” Pope teased as everyone started jumping into the water.  

I keep on trying to let you go

Not even let you know

How I'm getting on

I didn't cry when you left at first

Maybe you should’ve taken him up on his offer.  Maybe you should have packed a bag in the dead of the night and met him at the docks.  Maybe if you had more sense you would’ve.  But here you are, sitting on your bed with a bloody nose and black eye that your father gave you. 

JJ left two weeks ago.  He begged you to come with him, but he was right.  You tried so hard to see the good in everyone.  Even your father.  

You hadn’t cried that night.  When JJ left.  You couldn’t when you knew he’d be okay.  He’d be away from all the pain and anger his father inflicted on him.  So you held it in.  Until you didn’t.  

You laid there staring at your ceiling for hours.  You should’ve gone with JJ.  It was stupid of you to stay, but you couldn’t just up and leave.  Could you?  JJ had, but he had it worse.  You could handle the anger from your father a few times a week.  It was fine.  But you needed JJ.  

So you went to find him.  You packed a bag and left.  You made your way to John B’s house in the dark.  The walk was completely silent, aside from the slight buzz of the street lamps.  

You tapped on the door.  The loud knock making you cringe as you disrupted the quiet.  You waited a few minutes until you heard footsteps inside.  

“Where’d he go, John B?” You asked immediately when the door swung open.  You waited impatiently as John B wiped the sleep from his eyes.  

“He told me not to tell anyone, Y/n,” John B sighed, stepping aside to let you in.  You obliged and crossed the threshold with your hands gripping your bag so hard your knuckles turned white.  

“John B, tell me where the hell he is,” You demanded.  You didn’t have time to mess around.  You had to go.  

“The mainland.  Told me you’d know,” John B sighed.  You looked at him, puzzled, for a few moments before jumping up from your spot on the couch.  

“Thanks, JB,” you exclaimed, hugging him quickly before rushing out.  John B stood in his living room confused for a minute.  He turned to face the door when you rushed back in.  

“Can you take me somewhere?” 

You found yourself hugging John B goodbye one last time before jumping out of his van.  

“Hey, Y/n,” John B called out.  You stopped walking and turned around to face him.  

“Look out for each other, okay?”  John B called out with a soft smile.  You nodded and smiled back.  

“And, please, for the love of god, marry the kid.  He’s been in love with you since, like, fifth grade,”  John B joked making you laugh.  You nodded and again and watched as John B pulled off.  

And if you were my little girl

I'd do whatever I could do

I'd run away and hide with you

You made your way to the same spot you were a few weeks ago.  You felt your heart beat faster as you got closer.  Your shoulders slumped, though, when you saw the field was completely empty.  You could feel the tears building up and your chest started to ache.  You wanted to scream out.  Why didn’t you just go with him?  You had shared trauma, for Pete’s sake!  You were meant for each other!  And you just let him walk away?

Well, apparently, fate felt the same way.  

“Looking for something?” Someone called out from behind you, causing you to jump in shock.  You spun around.  

“Do you still wanna marry me?” You asked playfully through your tears.  

“Always,” JJ smiled. 

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

taglist: @queenofthepouges @5am-cigarette @danicarosaline @jellyfishbeansontoast @allielozoya @aliensinmybrain 

[irrelevantwriter]

Three’s Company

Pairing: Negan x Female Reader/You, Jim Hopper x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: threesome dynamics (M/F/M), language, daddy kink (majorly), oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, anal sex (female receiving), mention of bodily fluids, female ejaculation, Jim Hopper and Negan in the same room (its explosive), just lots of smut…like a lot

Word Count: 6.9K

Summary: Your coworkers decide to pop in for a late night visit.

A/N: This is a request fulfillment for the lovely @spacenerd96! Thank you for being so patient! I was blown away by this request bc I knew it had the potential to send us all to hell in a blaze of flames, lol. I wanted you all to ring in the new year with two of our favorite men. I really wanted to stay true to their individual characters while playing off each other, which was entertaining and interesting for two alpha men like Hopper and Negan. I hope I didn’t disappoint. The length is absurd, but I didn’t think you guys would mind. Plus, the smut is so ridiculously filthy that I think it more than makes up for it. Enjoy and share with your friends!

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

You wake with a start, wondering what it was that pulled you from sleep. Your room is dark still, nothing appearing to be out of place. A knock on your door alerts you to the source of the interruption. Your bleary eyes look to the clock on your nightstand, noting the late hour. It’s after midnight and the thought of someone at your door makes your body tense and the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

You very slowly make your way out of the comfort of your bed and pad softly to the front door. You listen closely, waiting for the person on the other side to suddenly barge through the wood and demand all your money.

It doesn’t happen.

Another knock reverberates throughout the apartment and you jump, startled by the sound. You quietly press yourself against the door and look through the peephole, careful to not let your accelerated breathing give you away. Two hulking male figures barely fit into the visible space. You can’t make out their faces that well, though you can tell one is dark haired and the other has lighter strands. They appear to be arguing, but you can’t make out the specifics of what they’re saying.

Suddenly, the darker haired man is looking right into the peephole, his impossibly white-toothed grin making you jump back.

“Doll? You in there?”

You roll your eyes, the identity of the men suddenly very apparent.

“Fuck off.” You call through the door, knowing that nothing good was going to come from this little late night visit.

“Not fucking likely.” Negan drawls, his voice making your skin simultaneously tingle and crawl. He often had that dual effect on you and you despised it. You really wish your body would catch up to your mind and hate the fucking guy.

“Come on, sweetheart...” This voice is different, but causes the same reaction as the first.

The two men outside your door couldn’t be more dissimilar, and yet they possess qualities that make you hate both of them equally. Working with them was a nightmare and you tried to limit those interactions as much as possible, but with your partner still being out on medical leave, you’d been teamed with the asshole detective squad of the department. It was turning out to be a real joy.

“What the fuck are you two idiots doing at my place so late?” You question harshly, hoping to avoid casual chit-chat.

“Bathroom.” Jim Hopper responds, but you can hear the laughter in his voice. You swear you could hear Negan snicker in response.

It dawns on you why they’re there…why they’re acting so fucking strange. You pull the door open with the chain still in place. The only part of you that’s visible is your face as you shoot daggers at your unwelcomed visitors slash dickhead coworkers.

“Are you drunk?”

Both men are clearly relaxed, a rare sight for the two homicide detectives. Negan is grinning, though he seems to do that a lot. It’s a tactic he likes to use with suspects and women alike. The cocky bastard. Jim is smiling, but his isn’t as grandiose as Negan’s. His face is more tranquil than you’ve ever seen it. His brow isn’t furrowed and there’s no trace of the frown lines that make him so recognizable around the station.

“We aren’t drunk. Relax.” Jim replies with a wave of his hand. He’s brushing off your question and the action makes you seethe with anger.

“But you’ve been drinking?” You try again, not concealing the irritation in your voice.

“We went to the pub just down the street. What the fuck is the name of it again?” Negan stops and looks to Jim for help. Jim rolls his eyes as if he’s had to remind Negan of the name on multiple occasions throughout the evening.

“Astor’s.” He supplies flatly.

“Right, we went there and decided to come visit our other partner in this fucked up threesome we got going on.”

You fought against the need to roll your eyes, legitimately afraid that they would get stuck that way. “For what reason?”

“A cup of coffee?” Jim asks, a pleading lilt oozing from his words. It’s a bizarre sound coming from his bearded lips.

They’re both looking at you with some distorted version of puppy dog eyes. Its comical, but also starting to have the desired effect. The men are handsome and the alcohol does nothing to dampen that. Jim is dressed casually in a brown jacket, a blue flannel, and dark jeans. His notorious hat is perched on his head, the accessory a staple of his. Next to him, Negan is encased in black. He’s sporting his infamous leather jacket, along with a black t-shirt and black jeans. They’re both dressed how you’ve seen them a million times, but the late hour and casualness of their visit makes you appreciate the attire in an entirely different way.

You sigh, pressing the bridge of your nose with your fingers. You can feel a headache coming on and you know you aren’t going to get rid of them. So in hopes of making them disappear faster, you acquiesce.

You shut the door and undo the chain, opening it once again without the barrier. You stand back and allow both men to enter, their massive frames making the space feel significantly smaller. You usher them into the living room while you start a pot of coffee, eager to get them out and on their way.

“Nice place you got here, doll.” Negan compliments with a wink. The action makes a bashful warmth coat your body, but you do your best to hide it.

“Thanks.” You reply blankly, watching as the two roam your place. Jim is quiet, but he usually is. Negan is the appointed mouthpiece of the duo and the man takes his part seriously. He never seems to shut the fuck up. Meanwhile, Jim walks around the station with a permanent scowl on his face. You aren’t sure how they play the “good cop, bad cop” routine because they’re both fucking dicks a majority of the time.

“You live alone, right?” Jim asks from his spot near the window. He’s looking down at the street, but his eyes find yours quickly. You nod, recognizing his careful scan of the surroundings. It was what every person of the law did when in a new place and you expected nothing less from the brooding giant.

“Kinda dangerous, isn’t it?” Negan questions, though the taunt in his tone is apparent. He’s smiling like a wolf who’d just laid eyes on Little Red Riding Hood. You watch as he licks his lips, ogling your body with a noticeable hunger. You shiver under his fiery gaze, belatedly realizing your attire. You wore a tank top with tiny shorts, your breasts free from the confines of a bra. Your nipples are peaked against the thin material, both from the chill in the air and the intense stare of each man.

You cross your arms and move to cover yourself with the blanket lying across your couch when Negan stops you. His arm is out and preventing you from moving forward. You stare up at him, your annoyance apparent.

“You come here just to make my life a living hell?” You ask, an eyebrow arched in demand.

Negan chuckles, clearly enjoying your fury. He’s in your personal space and you swallow thickly against the onslaught of emotions that follow. He’s so close you can feel his body heat, smell his scent. It makes your head suddenly fuzzy with desire and want. He throws Jim a look that clearly says a thousand things, but you understand none of it. Movement at your back makes you tense before you realize its Jim, his enormous body lining up with yours just as closely. You tense as they box you in, sucking the air from the room.

“What are you guys doing?” You ask breathlessly. You’d intended the question to come out harsher, but their proximities to your scantily clad body have you jumbled.

“Just taking a closer look, doll.” Negan rasps, his hand drifting to your cheek.

You tense at the feel of him on your skin, but soon relax when he cradles your face. A delicate trace of fingertips against your naked shoulders makes you shiver. Words fail you. Your protests die in your throat as they surround you with warmth and sensuality.

“Nothing to say to that, sweetheart?” Jim teases into your ear. His baritone voice lights a fire in your veins. His chest rumbles against your back and you lean into him slightly, yearning for more.

“I think we finally got her to shut the fuck up.” Negan chuckles, his fingertips now dancing along your collarbone.

“Fuck you.” You grit out, unable to remain quiet against their taunts.

Their combined laughter makes your lower body hum. The sound should irritate you. Instead, it makes your restrained lust soar to untamable heights. But you were going to fight them every step of the way.

“We gotta break you in. That mouth is far too uncontrolled, baby girl.” Jim murmurs against your hair.

You close your eyes against the many sensations, succumbing to whatever the fuck they were intent on doing. It felt entirely too good to stop.

“Yeah, bet that pussy needs to be broken in too? Right, doll?” Negan’s words make a moan sail past your lips, your brain too muddled in desire to catch it. Your thighs clench and your pussy literally weeps. His fingers are now tracing over your clothed covered breasts, teasing your nipples into almost painful peaks. You arch your chest into his touch while trying to push your ass against Jim’s crotch.

“You sure are needy all the sudden.” Jim growls as his hands now fully palm your ass.

Negan chooses that moment to grasp your breasts, sending your body into ecstasy. You whimper as their hands caress your body in tandem, pulling sounds you didn’t even know were possible from your lips. You can feel the dampness of your shorts between your legs, their teasing not a necessity in that moment.

“Please…” You beg, head thrown back against Jim’s chest. They both feel sturdy against your pliable form, manipulating your body how they pleased. They’re your puppet masters and you’re their willing participant.

“Please what?” Negan prods, fingers now playing with the delicate straps of your shirt. Jim’s heavy hands are still massaging your ass through your shorts, his exploratory movements taking him just inside, his flesh skimming the underside of your ass.

You aren’t exactly sure what it is you’re begging for, but you know it’s more…more of them. More of them touching you. More of them using you.

“Sweetheart, the man asked you a question. Fucking answer it.” Jim demands into your neck, his whiskers prickling your skin. His touch becomes harsh, matching the tone in his words as he gropes you.

You flinch at the sudden shift, but your pussy prays for more, your life’s blood manically pumping to the lower half of your body. You feel the throbbing and swelling of your lips, your clothing doing little to conceal your frenzied state. Their touch is pulsing with an electrical charge you can’t ignore. It pulls you in, entrapping you in a web of unrecognized desire. They’ve joined forces to make your starved body beg them for more. Beg them for something you weren’t even aware you wanted so damn badly.

“Please, touch me.” You whisper. Your chest is pushed out, urging Negan to continue touching you. Both men had eased their assault when you’d refused to answer. Without it you’re struggling to stand still, body thrumming with pent up energy.

“Touch you where?” Negan asks against your lips. You look into his penetrating gaze, getting lost in a trance. Your rational mind is no longer present. Your primal instincts are taking over, the desperate need to be taken and filled by two alpha men striking a chord with your femininity. You know its basic and animalistic, and you want nothing more than to submit yourself to it and them.

So you do.

“Everywhere.” You respond breathily, enjoying the way Negan’s eyes devour you, as if you’re the answer to all his prayers. And while they hold the authority in the room, you hold the power. Every ounce of it belongs to you. And its centered between your thighs.

“Does it hurt, doll?” Negan’s whiskey-tinged breath fans across your face as his fingers trail down your chest and hover over the place you need them the most.

Jim is back to torturing you with his thick fingers, the digits getting braver with each pass as he barely makes contact with your aching lips. You know he can feel the wetness there. There’s no way he hasn’t. The mess has already started to trail down your thighs.

“Yes.” You dutifully reply.

“Need your Daddies to soothe that ache for you?” Negan provokes, stoking the fire that burned intensely within.

Your walls clamped around nothing at his words, your body fully aroused by the idea of both men dominating you. You hear Jim chuckle darkly at Negan’s statement, his fingers now tracing over your clothed-covered slit from behind. The material is soaked and becoming trapped between your swollen lips. You try to grind against him, needing to be filled by something.

“Use your words, sweetheart.” Jim warns. His hand pulls at your shorts, sending the fabric up and into your slit. The friction against your clit causes you to cry out in what sounds like pain, but is actually feverish pleasure.

“Yes, yes…fuck, yes…” You chant as masculine hands begin to strip your clothes off. You move with them as they tear your tank top off, exposing your breasts to the charged air. You step out of your shorts as they pull them down your hips and thighs, the breeze of their movements making goosebumps appear on your skin.

You’re bare to them. You don’t shrink back in fear or nerves. You simply do what your body screams at you to do. You grab at Negan’s leather jacket and pull his mouth to yours. Your lips are forceful against his, inviting him to savor all of you. You taste the whiskey on his tongue and a hint of mint, the flavor unique but addicting.

Suddenly, a hand at the back of your head makes you wince as they pull, ripping you away from his warmth. You blink several times and are surprised to find it’s Negan who’s stopped you. There’s an evil glint to his eyes as they move from you, to the man at your back. Another silent conversation you aren’t privy to.

“You don’t listen for shit, do you?” Negan sneers, the cruelty in his tone making your pussy throb. His hand is still attached to your hair, tugging at the roots so that it burns. You mask the pain, biting your bottom lip to keep from calling out.

“We’re the ones in charge here, doll. We’re the ones calling the shots. Not you.”

If it was possible, your walls literally flood. You feel a small tremor pulse through your body, the sheer indication of what was about to take place enough to make you almost cum. You wordlessly nod and relax slightly when he releases his hold. A hand grips your upper arm, not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to remind you whose game this was.

“Bedroom. Now.” Jim orders gruffly, yanking at your arm in the process. You’re shoved towards the hall where they expect your bedroom to be. You obey, bare feet walking carefully as two predators stalk you from behind.

Your bed is disheveled from your movements only minutes before; when you were expecting an intruder and not two men who you’d be calling Daddy by the next morning. You turn to face them and watch as they enter, their intimidating stares making you feel like a goldfish behind glass. You wait as Negan inches closer, removing his leather jacket in the process. It lands with a heavy thud near your nightstand, his tattooed arms now visible and calling out to you.

“Hop says I can have you first. You good with that, baby girl?”

It’s a demand masked as a question. For fear that they’d put a stop to your fun, you nod in response.

“What was that?” Negan asks with a hand to his ear. Even in your overwhelmingly aroused state, you have to fight to roll your eyes at his theatrics. But you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it somewhat.

“Yes…” You wait a beat, eyeing the two men. Negan is almost to you, his body ready to pounce in case you decide to disobey. Jim watches silently from his perch near the door, his arms crossed and eyes hooded.

“Daddy.”

The word causes an instantaneous reaction from both men. Negan smiles wide, licking his lips like the cat who ate the canary. Jim’s own mouth twitches as he sucks in a breath, his eyes never shifting but approving of your obedience. You inwardly gloat.

“I cannot wait to break that pussy in.” Negan closes the distance between you, fingers brushing the uncomfortable ache that has settled between your thighs.

You whimper and do your best to silently beg him for more. You jut out your bottom lip in a pout. You look at him through your lashes while almost imperceptibly edging your lower body closer to his.

“You need it bad, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You reply without hesitation, hoping you’re going to be rewarded for your good behavior.

“On your back.” He gestures with his chin to the bed behind you.

You step backwards until you feel the mattress at your legs. You sit and gracefully slide up the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows. In this position, they have a clear visual of your nude form.

“Open those beautiful thighs, doll.”

You do so slowly, enjoying the way they’re tracking your movements. You fight against the instinctual pull to close them and surge ahead. You shift against the sheets beneath you, craving any sort of friction. The action is not lost on either man.

“Would you look at that. Nice and wet. Just like I like ‘em.” Negan says, a mixture of mischief and awe laced within his words. He’s stalking towards you, the prominent outline of his cock pressing against the zipper of his denim. He rubs himself absentmindedly and you close your legs immediately, rubbing them together.

“Keep ‘em open, sweetheart.” Jim orders from his spot near the door.

You comply, teeth gnawing into your bottom lip. Your fingers grip the sheets, struggling to keep control. Your skin is already peppered with sweat, the force of your resistance taking its toll.

“Bet you’re tight as fuck too. Aren’t you, doll?”

Negan’s knee hits the mattress as he hovers over you. His hand makes contact with your knee, spreading you open wider and displaying your glistening lips to the room.

“Yes, Daddy.” You moan out, pleased to feel his body heat again.

He leans down between your thighs, inhaling you as his fingers spread you open. “Fucking perfect.”

His mouth is on you before you can comprehend it. His tongue dives into your entrance immediately, tasting your slickened walls. You cry out and arch up into him, fingers tangling in his thick hair. You pull at the roots as he sucks harshly at your clit, making you yelp.

“Want me to stop?”

His beard is already smeared with your juices, his lips wet as he licks you from them.

“No. Please don’t.” You unabashedly beg, trying not to push his head back down.

“Didn’t think so.”

Your limbs contort around his head, fighting to catch that fleeting sensation and ride it. His fingers probe you, teasing as he circles your clit before burying two knuckle deep. He’s massaging your inner walls as your hips follow his thrusts. You can feel the end already near and you almost hate that it built so fast. You start to move faster on his fingers, ready to give yourself over.

“You close, sweetheart?” Jim asks, his voice tethering you back to reality.

You nod frantically, breaths coming out in quick pants as Negan continues to orally assault you.

“I don’t think she should cum yet.” Jim suggests to his counterpart, face still a mask of stoicism.

You whine aloud at his words, unable to fathom the thought of not getting the release you so desperately crave.

Negan only laughs darkly against you, his beard and lips glistening with your slick. “I agree. She’s still got some fight left in her.” He breathes out, gaze daring you to protest.

“No, no…I’ll behave, please.” You plea to your sexual tormentors. Your elbows are starting to ache from your position and your lower half thrums with barely contained energy. You feel like you’re in some sort of fever dream, your mind only consumed by one thing…getting off.

Negan says nothing as he goes back to fucking you with his long fingers. He tests your allegiance by bringing you to the edge over and over again, but never allowing you to crest that mountain. It continues to build inside of you; it’s practically an entity now it’s so overpowering. Your forehead is slick with sweat and your entire body aches, but you beg for more.

A caress to your cheek makes you open your eyes against the onslaught of overstimulation to your clit. Blue eyes are staring down at you, a glint of self-satisfaction radiating in them. You lean into Jim’s touch, praying he’d have sympathy. His lips lift into a smirk as he runs a calloused finger over your mouth, your lips immediately taking him in. You swirl the appendage against your tongue, mimicking the motions of Negan’s own deathly tongue on your pussy.

“On your knees. Face down, ass up.” Negan suddenly orders, breaking away from you. You blink away some of the delirium, forcing your limbs to comply.

You move slowly, all of your blood seemingly seeped from your brain and limbs and pumping to your swollen cunt. You hear the clinks of belt buckles and your turn to see Negan undoing his pants, his hazel eyes fixed on your ass. You lean down and arch your back, letting him see inside of you, letting him see what awaits him.

“Fuck, doll.” He growls in response, tugging at his impressive cock. The stiff muscle is veiny and practically pulsing in his hand, precum already dotting the head. His size should make you hesitate, but you’re too far gone to care.

You feel Negan’s shirt at your back, the heated flesh of his cock now rubbing deliciously up and down your slit. You can feel your walls nearly reaching out to grab him, desperate to be filled to the brim and then some. A hand pulls at your hair, angling your face up. Jim is standing at the edge of the bed, his own cock out and bobbing dangerously close to your lips. He’s thicker than Negan and just as remarkable. His meaty hand is pumping at himself, pulling cum to the tip so that it wets your lips.

“Open up, baby girl. Let us in.” Jim finally says, a nod passing between the two men.

Your mouth opens the moment Negan thrusts inside, the strangled sound leaving you as Jim’s cock enters. You try to focus on sucking his cock, but the one splitting you in half makes it difficult. Negan doesn’t go slow or let you get used to the burn that spreads through your inner walls. He’s aggressive and hard, and so very deep.

“Goddam that is a tight fucking pussy. She’s sucking me in.” Negan groans, his hips slapping hard against your ass. You can hear the sound of the flood coating him between your legs, the feel of it running down your thighs and soaking the bed.

“No slacking, sweetheart. Lemme fuck that mouth.” Jim demands, not letting you have a moment. He holds the back of your head as you hum around him, loosening your throat to make room. He tastes salty. And you want more of it.

Saliva falls down your chin as you let him thrust deeper. You concentrate on breathing through your nose. The brutal pounding on your pussy makes it hard to focus on anything else and you can feel the ecstasy escalating, careening you to the forbidden.

“Can I cum, Daddy?” You ask the room, not caring who decides to answer you. Jim’s cock is poised at your lips, running along the seam of them as you look up with pleading eyes.

Jim’s eyes cut to Negan behind you. He’s stopped thrusting, but he’s still stretching you, swelling with each second. A harsh slap to your ass makes you jump.

“Fuck yourself on my cock. Make yourself cum.” Negan orders. He remains unmoving as you begin to slide yourself along him. You let your head hang, focusing on building that addictive sensation up again, the one you’d been denied.

“Shit, just like that…” Negan moans, hands spreading your ass to watch. “You’ve creamed all over my cock.”

You moan loudly at his words, your hips starting to move faster. You can still feel Jim nearby, but he’s no longer holding his cock towards you. Instead, he’s running his own hand over himself, eyes glued to your writhing body as you got yourself off.

“Fuck, baby girl.” You hear Jim curse lowly.

It’s amazing what just their voices can do to you. They propel you further into space, making your walls flutter and your limbs tense. You don’t even have to touch your clit, your body beyond ready to release. You move with everything that you have, each sensation pushing you closer. There’s a powerful difference in what’s rushing through your body. It’s something you’ve never felt before and you aren’t quite sure what it means. But something tells you to ride it out. Something tells you to keep going, despite the small twinge of discomfort. And you do. You move until that coil snaps.

Warmth. That’s all you feel as you cry out and spasm, your limbs going weightless as you convulse around Negan’s cock. You feel a large amount of wetness splash your skin and Negan’s. There’s multicolored lights firing off behind your eyelids as your spine twists in almost impossible angles. And it feels like it’ll never end. Each wave crashes harder than the one before, nearly making you lose consciousness.

“Fuck,” Negan curses as he hurriedly removes himself from your quivering pussy. “You almost made me cum.”

You feel the heaviness of his cock between your lips as you start to come down, your arms finally giving out. Your ass is still up in the air, pussy sensitive but ready for more.

“You didn’t tell Daddy you were a squirter, doll.” Negan’s hands smooth over your ass, his thumb circling your puckered hole occasionally. You tense at the feel of it.

“I-I didn’t know.” You heave out, lungs still trying to take in air.

“That was a mistake.” He continues, leaning over you to press his mouth to your ear. “Because now we’re gonna need you to soak both of our cocks.”

You whimper as an aftershock of pleasure rocks through you, brought on by his filthy words. You pull at the sheets beneath you, feeling his fingers now sliding across your opening.

“Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You dutifully reply, too tired to fight them anymore.

“On your back.”

Before you can even move, Negan’s already flipping you over and thrusting into you. You dig your nails into his shirt-covered back, moans and whimpers penetrating the air. He’s intent on finishing, you can feel it in the way his hips stutter. He fucks you so hard, your body shifts up the bed. And despite the pain, your cunt reacts to his punishing rhythm.

“I want you to cum again. Squirt so fucking hard that you fuck up these sheets, doll.” Negan grunts into your neck.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can and you fucking will.” Negan retorts sadistically, hand going to your throat. He applies pressure, the feel of it making your head spin.

He releases you and trails his hand down your chest and to your clit, determined to make you cum again. You tense when a severe slap lands there, forcing your pussy to heat with pain. It dissipates almost immediately, intense arousal now taking its place. You clench around him, choking his cock with your walls.

“I knew you’d like that. A real whore.”

Your body is beginning to shudder again, the impossible now within reach. You’d lost sight of Jim, but at the feel of hands on your breasts, you know its him. He sits near your head on the bed, fingers pinching your nipples. He bends down to mouth at them while Negan continues to fuck you into the mattress.

“This pussy is a masterpiece, Hop.” Negan’s fingers dig into your thighs as he thrusts, hitting your cervix repeatedly.

You arch off the bed at the myriad of sensations soaring through your body. You latch onto Jim’s forearms, his talented finger still attacking your breasts. You plant your feet, preparing for the storm you knew was coming.

And it doesn’t disappoint.

Your orgasm comes fast, your body tensing as it hits. Jim shifts back to watch you, eyes pinned on your contorting form as he grasps himself. Negan pulls his cock from you and lets you coat him, his approval taking form in breathless words of praise. You let those guide you as you ride wave after wave, your whole body, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, reeling in euphoria.

Jim forces you to take his cock again, the unexpected shots of cum down your throat making you swallow to catch it all. He grunts and groans above you, his release taking him to another dimension. His eyes are focused on you, trained on the bulge in your throat and the white liquid seeping from the corners of your mouth. He tastes salty and of-the-earth, but it’s a combination that speaks to your delicate femininity. You swallow him, making it a point to consume every drop. You take from him as if you were starved for it, as if you’d been denied for years.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Negan suddenly confesses through clenched teeth between your legs. He doubles his efforts, giving you no choice in the matter. His frantic pace falters as he begins to empty himself inside of you, a fullness like no other settling in your womb.

“Oh, shit…Daddy.” You moan as he continues to release, adding to the mess between you.

“Christ on a fucking cross.” Negan collapses on top of you, clothed body sticking to yours.

You welcome the added weight. He shifts, removing his now softened cock from you. You wince at the loss, already feeling his seed seep from you. He looks down, catching the sight.

“She’s full, Hop. Don’t know if there’s any room for you.” Negan says with a chuckle, sitting up. He gestures to your fucked raw pussy, pulling your attention to Jim.

Jim stands at the end of the bed, Negan now off of you and fisting his cock back to life. You make a move to close your legs, but the lighter haired man stops you.

“We aren’t done, sweetheart. Keep ‘em open.” He orders, the men switching places.

You do as he says, watching as he stalks towards you. A shiver runs through your weary body at the way he studies you. He runs a hand up your calf, trailing it to your spread thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, but lets a finger linger on your untouched hole.

“Anyone ever had you here before?”

“No.” You reply with a shake of your head, meeting Negan’s eyes as he takes Jim’s previous spot near your head.

“Virgin ass. Merry Christmas to us.” Negan says crudely, licking his lips in the process. Some of his hair has shifted into his face, the once slicked back strands now making him look all the more menacing.

“You gonna let me try?” Jim asks gently, his cock rubbing sensuously over your soaked lips.

You want to say no. You want to deny them both. You’re already sore and the thought of taking him in a place no one has ever been makes you nervous. His size alone makes you think twice and you tense when he edges a finger along the rim.

“He’ll go easy, doll.” Negan offers in a surprisingly soothing one. His fingers caress your cheek, already making your reservations disappear.

Another finger strums at your clit, though with much more tenderness than times before. Your limbs begin to uncoil as the strokes put you at ease, pleasure once again finding its way to the surface. You know what they’re doing. You know what they want. And even though you’d been ready to tell them to go to hell, you let them play you like a fiddle.

You feel the pressure of something much larger at your untouched entrance and you momentarily panic. But Jim stops you, hand on your stomach as he eases in slowly. You don’t fight it, feeling the burn of the stretched muscles as they struggle to accommodate his cock.

“Fuck, baby…such a good girl.” He praises as you squirm, the feeling of fullness making you momentarily uncomfortable. His words make you warm, coating you like a blanket. They make you relax. He continues to push in slowly, letting himself bottom out.

Negan’s hands find your breasts, adding pleasure to your pain. You whimper as he slowly massages them, his pace a stark difference to the rate at which he’d just been fucking you. The cock buried in your ass is pulsing while the hand on your clit continues to revitalize your pussy.

“Yes,” You finally say, edging your hips closer to Jim’s. The sprinklings of ecstasy start to ease the burn and you find yourself sliding against him.

“Yes what, sweetheart?” Jim goads, halting the movements of his hips.

“Yes, Daddy.”

He nods in approval as he begins to move once again. You throw your head back as a level of stimulation you’ve never known before starts to take hold. Hands are everywhere and they leave a trail of destruction in its wake.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Jim grunts.

Negan’s hands disappear from your chest, making you feel cold without them. He settles onto his knees as he feeds you his cock, shallowly fucking your mouth. You once again feel the overwhelming fullness of desire. Your overindulgence in the flesh making you delirious. You’re utterly and truly helpless…the lethargy settling into your bones. And yet, even despite your physical limitations, your mind is ready to propel itself further into this black hole.

Your mouth continues working over Negan as Jim fucks your ass. You feel the prickle of life come back into your limbs as a mixture of discomfort and barely concealed neediness takes hold. You begin gyrating your hips in time with Jim’s cock, feeling him hit deep at a place you hadn’t even known existed. The shock of it makes you pull away from Negan and moan, preparing for what would hopefully be your last orgasm.

“You gonna cum again, doll?” Negan asks, hand still wrapped tightly around himself. He looks down at you with a sort of reverence that makes you tremble, his gaze following your curves closely.

You nod in response, using your own hands to knead your neglected breasts. You meet Jim’s focused stare, his eyes holding the same wonderment in them that Negan’s had. The fact that you had the full attention of both men had made you more than a little aroused. The fact that they were so enthralled by you…by your ability as a woman to please them made that fire inside burn brighter, blazing your skin.

“Goddamn, your ass is tight. I’m not gonna be able to last.” Jim manages to breathe out, cock pumping faster.

You reach for his forearm, his hand connected to the inside of your thigh as he spreads you. You grip the muscled limb, anchoring yourself for the whirlwind about to take place. Your pussy begins to spasm as he works your clit at the same time he thrusts, the duality of the sensations causing the abyss to pull you under. Liquid pours from your pussy and down to cover Jim’s cock, your quaking walls ricocheting onto his hardened flesh.

“Holy hell, baby girl.” Jim groans in mild fascination as you nearly break him off inside of you, your body showing him about as much mercy as he’s shown you.

You close your eyes and ride the high, the low grunts of the two men filling your ears. You tangle yourself further into the sheets as they murmur words of praise and compliments, showering you with filthy adoration. You preen at their words of acknowledgment, falling prey to their charms once again.

They both cum unexpectedly and without warning. Cum fills your ass while it also covers your breasts, announcing to the room who you belong to. You bask in the feel of it, the feeling of momentary ownership making a small satisfied smile pull at your lips.

“Shit…” Jim curses as he pulls himself from you, taking an immense interest in the mess that lay between your legs. Even though they’d both cum twice, Negan and Jim move with a quickness that surprises you. They are off the bed and adjusting their clothes, silently eyeing you the entire time. Meanwhile, you were still trying to get feeling to return to you entire body, the buzz still coursing through your veins.

“We should really take a fucking picture. That’s a sight I don’t wanna forget.” Negan says with a wicked smile, motioning to your still spread legs.

Jim only chuckles in response, his solid form walking towards you once again. He scoops you into his arms, gesturing with his head to the bed.

“Get those off , will ya?” He asks Negan. You clutch his shirt, knowing he won’t drop you but still feeling unsteady. You see his lips smirk at your reaction, his arms holding you tighter to him.

Negan moves to the bed and strips the sheets, balling them into a pile on your floor. You try to watch, interested in what they were doing, but your eyes are heavy and your body is ready to recuperate, lulled by Jim’s heartbeat across his broad chest. You burrow into his form, taking comfort in the warmth. You don’t register anything after that. The voices, the jostling of your body as Jim moves you. None of it awakens you.

*******************************************

Your bleary eyes open against the stream of sunlight, your mouth feeling strangely thick and dry. You roll over, but hiss whenever aches and a deep soreness penetrates your muscles. You feel it all over, the epicenter of it all right between your thighs. Flashes of memories fire off in your mind, reminding you of just how you got to be in so much pain. The faces of the two men responsible for your current state register in your lagging brain. You groan, already aware that this was going to be bad for your working relationship, or what was left of it.

You move to get out of bed, noting the large blanket you were wrapped in. Your sheets were stripped off the bed, the reason making you embarrassed and slightly accomplished. Your eyes find the clock, doing a double-take when you realize its after ten in the morning, an unusual occurrence for you. A full glass of water and a piece of paper pulls your attention to the surface of the nightstand, large writing decorating the sheet of white.

“Doll, left you a glass of water and two Tylenol. You’re gonna need it. We had fun. Call if you need anything. See you at work. P.S. look through your photos.”

An obnoxious smiley face next to the initials N and J makes you cringe. You’re confused by the last sentence until you spot your phone on the nightstand next to the glass of water. You reach for it and unlock it, immediately opening your collection of photos. There’s a series of new pictures that you hadn’t taken and they were all from last night. You scroll through them wide eyed as they capture you in various positions, a cock in one or both ends. Your face is always hidden from view, your body being the main subject point.

The last photo makes you warm, both from arousal and irritation. It’s your spent body after both men ravaged you. Your legs are spread and the cum of each of them coats your flesh, from pussy to ass. It’s a shockingly explicit photo, but you can’t help the rush of delight that shoots through you at the sight.

“Fuckers,” You curse, surprised and at the same time not surprised that they pulled such a stunt. And even though they snapped pictures of you without your knowledge, you know they aren’t stupid enough to do so on their phones. They’re cops, and there’s laws against shit like this. They were smart and left them in your hands, knowing you most likely aren’t going to get rid of them right away.

And they were absolutely right. The pictures and your residual soreness would be the only remaining evidence of that night, never to be repeated.

Maybe.

[toglidethroughlife]

Brighter Than Any Star:

An intimate look at everyone’s new favorite bass player

(or the blades band au that nobody asked for)

*inspired by @iaraiumi‘s STUNNING guitarist tyril art (here)

tyril-centric and tyril x mc bc this would be 7k+ words if i didn’t focus on just one of them but i tried to give everyone a moment in the spotlight. credits to a fic i read from the 100 fandom years ago for the format

used my f!elf mc ryllea graywater for this (though i guess this is kind of a modern au idk asjdla); also i don’t play any musical instruments i’m sorry in advance for butchering any of the technical parts 😬

Tyril Starfury — with his red silk shirts and slicked back hair — looks every bit the part of a rock god on stage with the rest of BLADES; but here, in the confines of their tour bus, he is a quiet presence, calmly sipping tea in the corner with a notepad and pen in his hands, his mind far away in the early hours of the morning.

If you had told me eighteen months ago that I would be shadowing Broadway darling Tyril Starfury as he traveled cross-country with his new rock band, I would have laughed and called you preposterous.

And yet, here I am, witness to the madness.

Nia Ellarious, the band’s youngest member and resident pianist, offers me a cup of the same tea as Starfury’s, telling me to enjoy the quiet with an almost apologetic smile.

I understand what she means not long after.

(There’s no such thing as a quiet morning in the world of Mal Volari.)

Every bit as charming and flamboyant as his on-stage persona, Volari greets the entire bus a good morning with flourish, throwing both me and Ellarious a magnetic smile before slipping towards the coffee machine with exceptionally light feet. (More on that later.) He taps on every available surface while he waits for his coffee to brew, humming softly as if figuring out a melody right there on the spot.

If Starfury is bothered by Volari’s banging and humming, he makes no show of it, paying him no mind as he continues to scribble in his notepad.

Ellarious beams as the scene plays out in front of her. “It’s not every day that they don’t get on each other’s nerves,” she explains. “Especially in the morning.”

It’s around this time — almost noon now — that Ryllea Graywater, lead guitarist and vocalist, wakes and joins the group, heading straight towards Volari and the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Thanks,” she winks as she takes the cup from him, shooting Volari a shit-eating grin that he returns easily, already procuring another cup for himself.

It should be noted that Graywater doesn’t seem to talk to anyone until she’s had at least one cup of coffee, choosing instead to slide in beside Starfury in the dining booth, eyes darting towards the notepad he’s writing on. They kind of just... sit there, minding their own business amidst the chaos that is the rest of the bus.

(Volari’s launched into an animated story about the inspiration behind last year’s summer hit, “Contessa, Contessa”, but I can’t help being drawn to the more quiet story unfolding behind him in the dining booth.)

Slinging one arm against the backrest of Starfury’s seat, Graywater casually invites herself into his space, a thoughtful smile on her lips as she looks over the notepad in his hand. There’s an openness between them that tells me that this isn’t a new occurrence, a comfortable ease in the way they seem to be engaging in a wordless conversation.

“He’s kind of really private,” I recall the younger Starfury sibling, Adrina, telling me about his creative process years ago, at the release party for his collab album with then rumored girlfriend and writing partner Kaya Duskraven. “He’s always been a perfectionist. Doesn’t really let anyone other than Kaya hear anything until it’s finished.”

But there’s no trace of that here, in this quiet moment with Graywater, bright, almost triumphant smiles on their faces as she picks up a pen and scribbles something on the pad too, immediately tapping out a melody against the table as if to test-run it by Starfury.

The smile he gives her is glowing.

I look away — suddenly feeling like an intruder in their private moment — catching the tail-end of Volari’s Contessa story, right before Imtura (no publicly released surname) accidentally slams me against the wall when the bus makes a rocky turn.

“Oof, sorry there little guy.” She raises both hands in apology before heading straight for the coffee machine, haphazardly dumping its contents into a generous-sized mug before immediately proceeding to consume said coffee as she plunks onto the other end of the dining booth.

And that’s how the first morning of me shadowing BLADES goes.

Ellarious tells me I’m lucky it was a good one.

-

With over 16 years of experience under his belt, Tyril Starfury has been in the music and entertainment industry far longer than the rest of the BLADES members combined. At the tender age of nine, he won his first piano competition, regarded highly for his precision at such a young age. He would continue to play competitively until he discovers a new love — musical theater.

It’s no surprise that Starfury ends up on Broadway — he comes from a long line of revered artists, all of them regarded as geniuses of their time. Though some would argue that his family name opened doors that would otherwise be unavailable, no one could deny that it was his clear, soaring baritone and unrelenting work ethic that kept him on stage.

It’s on this stage that he met young Kaya Duskraven, an understudy in one of his shows, prompting a fruitful five-year partnership spanning two EPs and a mini-concert series, Stars in the Dusk.

(The name was a little on the nose, but the critics loved them all the same.)

The two shared such a comfortable rapport, on and off-stage, that they naturally sparked dating rumors — Starfury was always quick to deny them.

No one could have expected the partnership to end on such a bitter note.

To this day, no one knows the real reason behind their fallout — Starfury walked out in the middle of their televised performance without apology or explanation — though there have been no shortage of rumors and theories, a lot of them involving one Eleryn Rosecoven, better known in the industry as Shadow Court bassist dXenia.

I tried to bring it up once, after several bottles of beer have been consumed and the band is swapping stories over s’mores made over the tour bus stove.

I’ve never been shut out so fast in my life.

There’s an audible crack from the s’more now crushed in Imtura’s hand, her piercing amber eyes seemingly driving a death sentence into mine. Volari sighs disapprovingly (and dramatically) at me, and even Ellarious — friendly, cheery Nia — looks at me with a pointed glare, turning off the stove, signaling the end of s’mores night.

“I would prefer not to comment,” Starfury nods at me, years of practiced courtesy showing in his tone and all I want in that moment is for the earth to swallow me whole.

Graywater follows when he excuses himself from the group. Everyone else avoids me like the plague.

It’s hours later when Starfury and Graywater return to the bus — I pretend to have fallen asleep in the dining booth in hopes that I can avoid their fury until the morning — but Graywater approaches me with two cups of tea in hand, an unreadable expression on her face.

She slides over one cup to me — if the scalding temperature of the tea is intentional, she makes no obvious show of it.

“Look,” she begins with an exasperated sigh. “I know you’re only doing your job here. And we did agree to this article, so I’m sorry if things got a little tense back there.” She pauses, as if considering her next words carefully. “We’ve all lived moments in our lives that we’re not proud of. Tyril’s had to live his in front of the public eye. He’ll talk about it when he feels ready to... but his past doesn’t define him, none of ours do.”

I nod, understanding that this is the last we’ll speak of the subject. She smiles as if in truce, telling me that I don’t have to banish myself to the dining booth and that no one will pull any pranks on me if I sleep in the shared bedroom.

I barely catch any sleep anyway.

There’s a ferocity in the way they protect each other that I didn’t notice at first — it could be subtle sometimes, like in the way Volari always checks in with each of the band members every night before going to bed (even though Starfury usually brushes him off); or in the way Imtura always makes sure every one stays hydrated (feel free to interpret that however you wish, whichever way is true); or in the way Ellarious always has some form of baked good running in the oven, more often someone else’s favorite rather than her own.

(I learn the hard way that no one is allowed to get in between Imtura and her cupcakes. No one.)

It’s also plain as day whenever they’re on stage together, their set list a carefully curated show that highlights each member’s strengths without anyone getting overworked. Everyone’s always quick to catch each other whenever they hit snags along the road — there’s a moment in one of the shows when Volari’s mic suddenly gets cut off and Starfury swoops in without missing a beat, a small nod of the former’s head seemingly the only cue he needs, the trust between them implicit.

When I had asked earlier why he’d joined BLADES, Starfury simply shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

“It was by accident. I happened to be at one of their shows and they needed a bass player. We kind of just… worked and we’ve played together ever since.”

But this kind of chemistry doesn’t just happen by accident. No, this is the product of months and months of hard work, of opinions clashing and arguments spanning days before sitting down and realizing it’s not impossible to see eye to eye; it’s battles won and battles lost together, respect earned and trust merited.

To call them just another band seems too small a word almost. Insufficient.

They’re kind of like a family.

(If your typical family involved regular knife and axe-throwing contests, that is.

... it’s best not to ask.)

-

Tensions are high backstage at Deadwood Festival Grounds.

Volari has been pacing around non-stop. Ellarious looks like she’s using every bit of her willpower not to bite her fingernails. Imtura keeps violently tapping her drumsticks together. Starfury’s got his arms crossed in a corner, brows furrowed.

Graywater is doing a handstand for no apparent reason.

The anxiety is understandable — tonight’s a crucial moment for the band.

With only one more show before the grand finale at Whitetower Stadium, all the bands are doing their best to retain the crowd’s favor, each playing well-established fan favorites, saving the riskier song choices for the finale.

That is, everyone except BLADES.

They’re planning to debut two new songs tonight, both of which written solely by Starfury.

It’s a ballsy move on its own — no one’s exactly itching to drop the ball on their fans this close to the end — but add in the fact that Starfury hasn’t released any solo-written music since the Duskraven fallout and you’ve got the makings of a battle that could either go incredibly right or disastrously wrong.

Let’s back up a bit.

After the Duskraven breakup, Starfury had gone into something of a hiatus (if that’s what you call disappearing off the face of the entertainment industry) before dropping the 13-track self-written album, “Honor,” without prior notice or promotion. Fans were ecstatic to hear from him after his sudden break, but critics were less enthused, calling the album ‘a brash, arrogant attempt at flipping the metaphorical finger at Duskraven that ultimately falls short’, noting the clear absence of Duskraven’s touch in his music — all technicality, no soul.

Starfury’s penned a couple of songs with BLADES since, spanning genres as colorful and diverse as its writers, but there hasn’t been a solo venture since Honor, leaving long-time Starfury fans anxious to hear him take lead again.

Graywater calls everyone into a circle, locking eyes with Starfury as she gives his hand a squeeze.

She makes a speech that I‘m not privy to — but everyone is visibly more resolute after she speaks, each raising their fists to meet in the middle of the circle.

“I’m honored to be on this journey with you all,” I hear Starfury share, a glittering smile spreading on Volari’s lips at the statement.

“I knew you liked us!” he says, crossing the circle to throw an arm around Starfury’s shoulders, pulling him close.

“Group hug!” Ellarious laughs and Imtura closes the circle into a solid embrace.

Starfury appears to be in shock — as if this is the first time this has happened — but he recovers quickly, a quietly contented smile on his face.

The last streaks of daylight have disappeared by the time they’re called to stage, the crowd restless from a long afternoon under the blistering heat.

Darkness has fallen.

But then the opening chords to fan-favorite “Murderous Masquerade” cut through the evening air, a flurry of flashing lights bursting through the sky, and the Deadwood comes alive.

Volari takes center stage in his flashy black and gold ensemble, working the crowd with such ease that it’s no question why he’s been dubbed the band’s de facto showman — he’s frankly just mesmerizing to watch.

Next up is “The Priestess and the Warrior,” an epic tale crammed into four and a half minutes of heart-racing drum beats — provided by the insanely talented Imtura — with a tender piano-driven bridge near the close, Ellarious’ heartbreaking vocals driving the whole thing home.

Graywater takes lead in the third number, “Flirting with Monsters,” a delicate neo R&B number that sounds nothing like the title suggests, her earnest, airy vocals lulling you into a comfortable, almost dream-like state as she entices her lover to stay.

The one thing common between the seemingly weird mishmash of genres is Starfury’s steady bassline, providing a much needed thread of cohesion to the set list. Where Volari, Imtura, Graywater, and even Ellarious tackle their music with the raw aggression of fresh blood on stage, Starfury attacks with quiet, seasoned finesse, his expertise evident in tracks like “Watch your back (or I’ll watch it for you)” and “Drakna Queen” — two unconventionally energetic numbers that would be difficult to listen to live if not for Starfury’s sure hand bringing them harmony.

“Alright, we’re gonna slow things down for a bit,” Graywater announces, eyes sparkling with excitement as she looks at Starfury. “Tyril’s got a new song and we want you guys to be the first to hear it.”

By now, I’ve seen enough of Starfury’s performances to say that he’s not a nervous performer. Even in the earlier stages of his career, there was always a quiet assuredness about him — which could have also been easily called arrogance — and while that’s still present now, there’s something different about the way he interacts with the crowd, a sense of humility present in the way he put his hands together and gives them a brief bow before he sits himself in front of the piano.

“I would like to dedicate this to a person very special to me,” he begins, his fingers gentle on the keys, a soft, lilting melody dancing in the air.

(He’s not even the least bit subtle about the way he looks at Graywater.)

“She has reminded me, time and again, that hope and love, when we allow it, can shine the brightest light in the dark.” Graywater shakes her head as if to shrug in nonchalance, but she meets his eyes dead on, her smile beaming with pride.

Turning to the crowd, Starfury adds, “I hope this gives you as much joy as you’ve given me. This one’s called ‘Kilvali.’”

For the next minute, it’s just Starfury and the piano, the world quiet as his voice fills the air. If there was ever any doubt that Starfury had lost his vocal prowess, there wouldn’t be any now. His voice is clear and strong — reaching even the farthest row of people on the music grounds — albeit with a softness now that I’ve never heard from him before, his attachment to his music feeling infinitely more personal.

“All my moments with you are worth whatever pain that came before,” he sings, his voice soaring as the rest of the band join him in the second verse. The performance is even more powerful with the added instrumentation.

Tiny cellphone flashlights illuminate the crowd as they sway their hands in time to the song, the emotion in Starfury’s voice rolling out in waves.

Twitter user @notmxwllbmnt13 sums it up nicely:

SJSKJSJSK TYRIL STARFURY KILLED ME TONIGHT!! ALL!! THE!! FEELS!!

(It really was beautiful.)

The crowd cheers as the song draws to a close, but the battle’s not over yet (as Starfury would tell me himself later) — the true test lying in whether or not his second song proves a testament to his newfound voice in songwriting… or if it’s just a one-time stroke of luck.

“If it’s alright with you, we’d like to play you another new one,” he says and the applause is deafening when he turns over the mic to Volari, the latter pulling him into a one-armed hug before taking to the crowd.

If Duskraven’s interviews post-breakup are to be believed, Starfury has never — not once — written a song that wasn’t intended for himself. (She claimed to have co-written plenty of solos for Starfury, but he allegedly never returned the favor.) A quick glance at his repertoire would make this allegation appear true.

“It is true,” he tells me simply when I bring it up later in the tour bus. (Despite the coolness of his voice, I notice him shift a little in his seat.) “I was... unconfident, extending my words to other artists like that. I was also prideful and arrogant — afraid to face the judgment and criticism of my peers, and for that, I truly am sorry to Kaya. She deserved better from me as a partner.”

It seems Starfury has taken that incident to heart. Listening to “Purple Dreams” with Volari’s teasing falsetto on the forefront, it becomes clear that Starfury wrote this with the former’s vocals in mind, the flirtatious mix of his sassy vocal riffs and playful onstage antics giving the song a delicious, intoxicating energy.

It’s probably the most experimental I’ve heard from Starfury as a writer, both in terms of lyricism and melody.

“I’ve learned a lot this last year, creating music with BLADES,” he explains. “Not only did I find a new perspective on songwriting thanks to them, but my bandmates also gave me the courage to try things outside of my comfort zone and to allow myself to make mistakes. They inspire me.”

Years ago, he was dubbed as stiff and awkward outside of the theater stage, with Duskraven providing all the charm in their partnership, but now, on stage with BLADES — as Volari points his sultry gaze at him, singing his own lyrics to him — Starfury smirks, leaning ever so slightly against the showman as his hands tease along the guitar strings, driving the crowd wild.

It’s clear by the end of the song that Starfury has won over the crowd, and for once, he actually seems to revel in it, his smile beaming as he takes in the applause.

The rest of the band are even more thrilled for him, each leaving their posts to engulf him in another hug.

He doesn’t hesitate this time, allowing the fond gesture in front of their adoring crowd, each of them savoring the quiet moment, and I think, out of all the times I’ve seen Starfury on stage, this has to be my favorite version of him.

In the company of his friends, lifting and supporting each other, Tyril Starfury shines brighter than any star.

“We haven’t talked about what we’re doing after yet,” Starfury admits when I ask him about the future of BLADES after Morella Fest. (Each of the members are also solo artists in their own right, after all.) “But whatever happens at the end of the tour, we’ll always have each other, regardless of whether the band continues or not. I can’t imagine my life without these people now and I hope I never have to.”

He’s smiling as he says this, watching his bandmates fight over the last levenfruit before he excuses himself to join them, Graywater and Ellarious easily making space for him in the dining booth, Volari and Imtura rounding out the little world that now seems completely their own.

-

This article also appears in BLADES: The Most Ambitious Crossover Event in Morella Music History. You can find the full feature on www - kadethebard - com.

-

tagging: @sophie-summer ✨

[thepucegoose]

idk if you remember your "starsky & hutch is adhd/autistic solidarity" post (its like a year old whoops) but if you have more thoughts about hutch being autistic i would love to hear them 👀

okay it’s been a while since i rewatched s&h and generally when i said this i was just like, thems the vibes - with this said i think hutch does have those vibes for a reason so i’ll try and figure it out and if anyone else would like to contribute that’d be very welcome!

i think mainly hutch has a particular kind of relationship with empathy? when i think about episodes like vendetta or black and blue or any countless others, hutch is always very personally invested in the lives of those in the cases he’s involved with and really seems to take on the weight of these experiences i guess? which like, by the time you’re getting to season four he’s so burnt out by just all of it (bc the way to help in the community is not through the police btw lol! but that’s by the by) and i think that you could easily chalk a lot of that up to hyperempathy - i think we do see this also with starsky in episodes like nightmare, starsky’s lady, manchild on the streets, and blindfold, but frequently these examples are when starsky has a very personal investment in the case (and lead to significant emotional impulsivity in indignation bc he’s adhd babey) whereas hutch just sees someone sad and he seems to be feeling it right there with them (is this due to childhood abuse? i think the crying child means you can make a very valid argument that it is. is this due to autism also? yea.)

this said, despite his hyperempathy in relating to these inter-personal scenarios, this doesn’t necessarily translate into awareness regarding specific social boundaries. i think hutch often struggles with recognising what’s too far in his jokes and competition with starsky and he frequently does things that suggest he hasn’t really factored the emotional impact his actions might have on starsky. this is perhaps most evident in partners, although it’s a running theme you can see from the beginning on through (please don’t make your partner think he’s bad in bed jeez? stop stealing his gfs?? also babe starsky isn’t trying to trick you with this bet thing, you’re literally dying). these scenarios often run in line with the fun joking that s&h have in their relationship, and yet the extent to which he takes it, seemingly in good fun and without subsequent apology, suggests he just doesn’t recognise how far can be too far in a joke before you can end up really hurting someone - he just doesn’t seem to be aware of where the line is

in partners, hutch is mad at starsky’s impulsivity and the way in which he felt out of control and the negatives consequences that resulted from this and so he feels the need to demonstrate those possible consequences - i think this reaction kind of suggests a black and white approach to thinking as well as some difficulty expressing emotions: he hurt me by being so impulsive so i’ll make sure he knows that he went too far and that i was really hurt by it by making sure that he faces the worst of the possible consequences since this is what he deserves - without then recognising what pretending to have amnesia would do to starsky and the extent to which it would cause utter terror and profound distress, as well as compounding his guilt in an unfathomably unbearable way (i think hutch’s difficulty expressing emotions, particularly when he’s feeling hurt by starsky, also makes starsky vs hutch more coherent as a culmination of this and the relationship dynamic they’ve developed - to quote my own fic, “I tried to make something real with every girl I came across; you grew a moustache and fucked my girlfriend to prove it really wasn’t. Real that is.”)

just as a side note, i think it’s interesting that starsky didn’t respect hutch’s boundaries re: the driving bc of his impulsive reaction, and hutch didn’t respect starsky’s boundaries re: not like, faking amnesia to punish him bc he didn’t understand the emotional implications of this for starsky - sometimes being neurodivergent can make relationships hard!! but they work it out bc they’re in love and their minds are grooving on that neurodivergent plane together :’‘)) i think they can be conscious of the other’s difficulties and this helps them be understanding of each other, most of the time acknowledging when something was the other not meaning any harm and acting accordingly, but also recognising and responding when the other was clearly disregarding respect and care for the other, as is the case with both starsky and hutch in partners - it’s about being understanding whilst still being clear on what isn’t appropriate behaviour and what you’re not willing to put up with from someone

also starsky is just very neurodivergent and frankly (from my personal experience) it can be hard to like, vibe w someone in the way starsky and hutch do if they’re not also neurodivergent - they can follow each other’s thinking, skipping over the steps that other neurotypical people might need to follow, and they’re both good at finding unique perspectives on cases and noticing details that others might not

also just, hutch’s approach to healthy living as part of a regimented routine?? that’s autism babey. he likes things done in a particular way and he always has the same grim shake for breakfast? that’s autism babey! he’s constantly trying to inveigle starsky into his healthy living thing about which he is evangelical? sounds like a special interest to me and he just wants his bf to know just how cool it is!!! would anyone who isn’t neurodivergent drink cold clam chowder out of a can?

and like,,, murder on stage 17??????? the way he mimics john wayne when he’s anxious and under pressure to speak?????????? need i say more????????

s&h as a show also i think has a greater relationship to neurodivergence as a whole which i have so many thoughts on and will one day manage to write up but essentially i think the show has a running theme about respect, understanding, compassion, and care for neurodivergence and this is really shown through both starsky and hutch’s actions - i’m not saying that starsky and hutch need to be neurodivergent to show the compassion they do, but i do think it helps that they are able to relate to the other neurodivergent characters on the show and their responses are in line with this

essentially: hutch has hyperempathy, but a difficulty recognising where he’s crossing social boundaries. there are suggestions of some black and white thinking at times, a difficulty feeling out of control, and he can have struggle with expressing the ways in which he’s been hurt by something. he vibes with starsky bc they have similar modes of thinking and he notices details and makes connections that others may not be able to, as well as being able to follow starsky’s reasoning when he does the same. he likes a routine and a regimen, and this feeds into a special interest in healthy living, about which he is very enthusiastic and can’t see why starsky wouldn’t agree. he sticks to the same shake for breakfast every day, suggesting not only consistent routine but also a particular sensory affinity and i can’t remember if we see him eat other breaksfast foods but he doesn’t want to eat pastries in the mornings which could be related to sensory difficulties. he struggles under the social pressure of being on camera, at which point there’s some suggestion of using echolalia to help script a response. he also is very able to relate to others who are neurodivergent. he’s autistic!

(like i said it’s been a while since i engaged with s&h so if i’ve got any episode titles wrong or made erroneous assumptions please chip in bc i have not double checked!)

[franeridart]

Anon said: Um so hello, I’m just here to say keep up the awesome work, I love your kiribaku art and it’s adorable and I go on binges through your blog (omg I sound so creepy I’m sorry I just love ur art so much) and it makes my day so yeah please keep drawing!

Ahhhhh you don’t sound creepy at all, don’t worry!!!!! Thank you so much for liking my stuff that much!!!!!!! <3<3

Anon said: May ask what kiri///mina would look like in your style? You don't have to draw it if you don't like the ship.

Gosh sorry but I really really don’t ship it!

Anon said: you know how I miss?? your OCs!!! they're the cutest!!

AWE thank you so much!!!!!!! I have a few comics planned for them, hope I’ll manage getting to them soon enough!!! (oT^T)9<3

Anon said: This is so sappy but some of your kiribaku posts really make me really appreciate long relationships! I’ve always found pining and crushes the cutest bc it’s full of intense feelings, but you portray being in love and accepting each other so well!! it’s amazing how you show characters interacting with each other and being so comfortable instead of worrying about hiding part of themselves and long story short I love your art and ideas so much

This ask!!!!!!!!! means the universe!!!!!!!!!! to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m so glad I can manage portraying love in such a way, I’m so in love with the idea of open, accepting love, andI try seriously hard to make it look healthy in my comics so!!!!!!! thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have no clue how many times I’ve reread this ask I’m not even exaggerating TT^TT <3

Anon said: I just want to start off by saying you’re my favourite blog on tumblr, your art is incredibly adorable and always makes my day!! I was just wondering how you were able to create your own unique art style? It’s something I’ve been struggling with a lot lately with my own art. Any advice is appreciated, thanks for everything you do!!

I think it’s about finding the right spot between what feels comfortable for you and the end you’re using your art for? In my case what’s comfortable is something fun and smooth, and the main end has always been to be able to draw comics - I’ve always liked comics because I like writing and I like drawing, but my attention span was too short to manage finishing them, and the way I had of drawing was too stiff to properly convey emotions the way I wanted to, which made drawing comics sound like an impossible dream haha I fixed it by simplifying my style, by taking away or reducing to the bare minimum everything that took me ages to work out/draw and pushing my expressions and body language to extremes to make up for the lack of details. 

That’s just my experience with it, though! The best advice I can give you is to sit back and look at your current way of drawing from an objective perspective - do you enjoy it? Is the process of drawing something you’re comfortable with? What’s uncomfortable in it for you, and in which ways could you change it to make it comfortable and fun? Does your current art style allow you to do what you want to do with your art? If you want to paint, does it allow you to paint in an easy and fun way? If you want to make comics, does it allow you the range to properly portray a character moving and living without making you wish you’d never started drawing halfway through it? 

Imho the first step to find a style that’s your own and feels right is to find a style that’s fun to use and doesn’t stress you to hell and back every time you pick up your pencil. This is easier to do the more things you attempt, so for a bit being inconsistent in style is a good and normal thing - try things out! The best one for you will definitely stick in the end. And if you already feel comfortable with the way you have of drawing, then hell! You already have a style that works for you! Just because to you it doesn’t look unique and special it doesn’t mean that it isn’t - if you asked me to point out what makes my style unique I wouldn’t be able to tell you either, the way I see it my style is the most uninteresting and common-looking style out there. To be honest with you that’s probably just how it is for every artist out there hahaha

Anon said: Hi!! I love your art and just want you to know I always get a big, stupid smile on my face whenever I see you cross my feed, whether it’s something new or a reblog of an old post. Everything you do is just amazing and I love it

AHHHHHHH Thank you so so much!!!!!!!!! (TT^TT)<3<3<3

Anon said: Hey Fran! First off, thank you for the Fire Force art. I remembered to actually check it out, after seeing it lol. Second, I still can't find your Fatgum 😭😭 the link didn't give any, and searching on your page didn't help either. I WILL FIND IT ONE DAY

I think it’s a problem of the app orz I can see him just find from desktop but the app can’t find him either T-T stupid app!

Anon said: Do you have a mini Bakugou and Kirishima living in your head? Are they just living their lives up in your brain and that causes your hand to to write and draw the most perfect and accurate things? Of course mini Kaminari, Sero, Mina, Jirou, etc. also come to visit your head hole from time to time and just chill with mini Baku and Kiri. That’s the only logical explanation on how all your Bakushima content is so inconceivably spot on

That’s such a kind thing of you to say, anon!!!!!! I’m glad you find them that IC!!!!!! I try my best, but sometimes I admit I just have them do and say stuff I’ve done and said myself, the only difference is that I word things in a way that feels right for their usual way of talking hahaha

Anon said: I personally would love to read your essay on why bakugo is the best character ever because I really really really want to love him that much but i feel like there's something that I'm just not getting about him- there's something I'm missing about his personality (keeping in mind that i kinda left the manga after the whole mirio/8 precepts arc). I've always found bakugo compelling and would love love love to read your take on him! Hope you have a great day!

Bakugou has had some amazing character development scenes after the overhaul arc!!!!! He’s outright shown he understands where he was lacking and where he was wrong, that he’s perfectly capable of working in a team and letting people help him and helping them in return, that he cares about his class and how the rest of the world sees them! (and that he worries/cares about how the world sees him too, actually, that broke my heart a bit ;; ) We haven’t seen him in a hot minute by now, but most of anything before the current arc has had him improve and develop and become even better than he already was -  I’ve always thought him a good guy with just a lot of troubles relating to the world around him due the way he has been brought up as special and different (it creates a drift between yourself and the rest of the world when everyone around you keeps treating you as if you were other - when you tell a kid he’s different and better for his whole life he’s bound to grow up believing it, after all), but if the problem you have with him is that he isn’t showing the good in himself plainly and obviously enough, then the arcs after the overhaul one are gonna help you like him better, definitely

Well, the thing about Bakugou is that he’s not a plain/obvious character, so you need to think about his actions and his words a bit more, and can’t just take him at face value - it’s what I like about him, actually! How much you need to think about him to figure him out on a deeper level than just the surface one. Since I dunno why you like him and why you feel something’s missing, I can’t tell you specifically what it is in the way I see him that completes him for me, but as I said I try to keep him as IC as I can so probably reading my comics about him might help you understand the way I see him. To me Bakugou’s honest, and kind, and loving, but he’s also arrogant, and angry, and used to taking some things for granted, and I like how all those things work with and against each other in his character. He’s at the same time incredibly proud and absurdly insecure, and I like that about him too - where each comes from and where and how they clash, I like the complexity it gives him. I like that he’s a people person in the sense that he likes having people around himself, and I like that at the same time UA is the first time he’s had actual, honest to god best friends, and how that means that he’s gonna be awkward when usually he’s so sure and proud simply because he isn’t used to having people he actually specifically cares for, I very much like that about him. I like that he overthinks everything he doesn’t immediately gets, I like that he still acts on instincts more often than not, I like that somehow with him those two aren’t mutually exclusive. I like that he’s smart and still so damn dumb, I like that he’s just as simple-minded as he is an actually labyrinth in thought process, I like how one-track minded he is even on the most silly things - how once he sets his eyes on a goal he goes for it like his life depends on it. I like that he’s barsh and rude and impulsive in what he says and does, but when he fucks up he knows he fucked up, and he backstracks, and he does his best to make amends. I like that he sits in stupid ways and has the worst posture in the class and then he wears his hero costume and suddenly he’s a model on the catwalk, that’s so damn endearing to me. I like how ridiculously hyperbolic he is and how he just assumes people will get it, get what he actually means, like there’s a point between his brain and his mouth were things get blown out of proportion and he doesn’t even realize it. There’s just so many things to love about him, for me!! 

But most importantly I like that he started as low as he could get and that because of it his plot is a one way towards the summit. I like it. I like watching a character grow and every new chapter become a better version of themselves, I love it. Ultimately that’s probably why he’s my favorite, after all haha

Anon said: Hi, this isn’t a question but I just wanted to say how much I love your art and the way you clearly appreciate Bakugou as a character. So many of my friends hate him, but I think he has a lot of depth and so much potential. Your art always makes me smile! Thanks for doing what you do. :)

THANK YOU and thank you for liking the boy too!!!!!!! He deserves it, he absolutely does deserve it!!!!!!! <3<3<3

Anon said: I just went digging in the archives of my blog (which is.. a mess) and found some old art of yours (like... I'm talking bokuto and kuroo level old) and g o s h. I already loved your art so much then and I still do n hhhhhhhh u go. U great.

Gosh you’ve been around a long time then!!!!! Thank you so much for sticking with me all this time!!!! ✨o(TT0TT)o✨

[boyfriend-cal]

so what if like you're like someone whos a friend of spiderman (like you see him often & sometimes find him on the fire escape outside of your apartment) & you've recently had a fight with someone about trust & spiderman is trying to give you advice but it makes you mad bc he's telling you all these things but none of it is about his and yours friendship bc he won't tell you who he really is

I hope you like it! this is the first thing I’ve ever written for Peter :)

(friendly reminder: masterlist, taglist, request)

word count: 2.2k 

++

I’m really sorry y/n I have to reschedule hanging out again, please don’t hate me I promise I’ll make it up to you

You stared at your phone as the text came in. This is the third time Peter has rescheduled your pizza-and-arcade night. Sure, Peter had always been kind of spotty with plans, but he’s never rescheduled something three times.

In fact, this activity, in particular, was supposed to be your first date. That’s what you thought anyway, you guessed maybe Peter missed that part of the conversation. Or he didn’t want to go, so he kept blowing you off instead of just saying he didn’t want to.

Let’s not reschedule. I got the point. See you at school on Monday.

You sent him the text before you could talk yourself out of it. After being let down three times you have the right to be mad, you didn’t need to be kind and make him feel better for making you feel bad. At this point, you were more angry and annoyed than sad. If Peter had ever given you a reason he couldn’t make it, you’d understand, but all of his texts were just like the one you received a few minutes ago. Vague. Peter never explained why he couldn’t be there.

Someone exited the pizza shop you’d already arrived at, pulling your attention away from your phone. You guessed it was time to go home. Another night you’d be sitting alone.

+

“Y/N! Peter is here to see you.” Your mom calls throughout the small apartment. You immediately jump up, you don’t want him to come into your room because then you won’t be able to tell him to leave.

You rush to the door and see your mom invite him in. The shock on Peter’s face as you push his chest with your palm is a little bit surprising. He steps back out into the hallway, and you shut the apartment door behind you.

“I uh, I tried calling and t-texting before I came over, but you didn’t answer.” Peter is nervous, and you can tell, but you’re still mad.

“I don’t want to talk to you. I said I’d see you on Monday, so why’d you come here?” You cross your arms and Peters fingers tighten around his backpack straps.

“I wanted to a-apologize. I know I’ve missed our plans three times now and I’m so sorry.”

You wait for a second to see if he’s going to say anything else, like maybe give you an actual reason. Instead, he takes his backpack off and bends over to get something out of it. “But I got you these if that makes a difference. They’re a little squished, I-I’m sorry about that too.”

When Peter stands up, he’s holding a bouquet of small flowers. He’s right, some of them are pressed flat, and others have petals missing. You take them from him. “That’s all?”

Peter is visibly shaking in front of you, and you want to take his hand so he doesn’t feel so anxious, but you’re supposed to be mad at him right now.

“Uhm… Y-Yeah I guess that’s all.” Slowly he zips up his backpack and slings it back over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you ever give a reason for having to reschedule?” You question. “It’s always,’ Sorry, can’t make it.’ But never an actual reason or even an excuse.”

Now Peter looks at his shoes. They’re scuffed, but so are yours. “It’s just something I can’t talk about. It’s not like a-another girl o-or anything, but I-I can’t tell you.”

He looks back up to you, and you groan. “Why did I have a feeling that’s what you’d say? I thought we were best friends, but you have things you can’t talk about around me? I’ve told you everything about me, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I feel like I deserve some kind of explanation, Peter.”

“You do. You r-really do, but I can’t give you one. I know that’s shitty of me but I just can’t.”

“Why? Do you not trust me? Maybe I should be the one who doesn’t trust you.” You throw your hands up and try not to raise your voice, but it’s hard. You’re angry and upset because the boy you like doesn’t even like you enough to tell you what’s going on. It hurts more because he was your best friend before he was the boy you liked.

“No, Y/N/N come on. I trust you, I p-promise I do. Don’t do this, I-I’ll make it up to you.” Peter reaches forward, but you step back toward your front door.

“You can make it up to me when you can tell me what’s been going on. Until then, I’ll see you around.” You open the door behind you and back inside, quickly shutting it and taking a deep breath. Your mom is no longer in the living room, so you don’t have to explain when your face prunes up, and the tears start to fall.

You close your bedroom door behind you and throw the broken flowers onto your computer desk. Why? What had you done to make him not trust you?

The sky outside is dark when you step out onto the fire escape. You pull your cardigan closer around you as you climb up three flights to the roof. There’s a garden up there, but you’re not sure who takes care of it. You like to come up here and look around when you want to clear your head.

Your eyes scan the rooftop for the familiar red and blue suit but come up short. Sometimes you see Spider-Man up here. He must live nearby or something because he’s up here a lot of the times you are. You’d had a few conversations, and you guessed you could consider him a friend.

The purple flowers that rest on the end of the nearest row have always been your favorite. You pick one and then go to sit with your legs hanging off the ledge of the building. It was usual, and safe since the first escape was right below you.

Your tears start up again as you start to think about Peter. Was he even your friend anymore? Could you trust him? It took you a long time to open up to him the way that you did, and you thought he did the same to you, but then you find out he’s still hiding things. It wasn’t like he had to tell you everything, but this related to you and he knew how skeptical you were to open up to him. It was stupid, and you knew something was going to happen to make you regret it. Tears trickle down your face.

A soft thud behind you lets you know you’re not alone. You decide there’s no use in wiping your tears, he’ll see that you’re upset anyway. “You can sit.”

Without turning to look at him, you pat the cement next to you, so Spider-Man knows he’s invited. He sits down quietly, letting his feet slowly dangle back and forth.

“You doing okay?” He asks, turning to you.

You shrug. “Just thinking that someone isn’t who I thought they were.”

Spider-Man doesn’t say anything. You wish you could see behind the mask to know what kind of facial expressions he’s making.

“How come? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter now. There’s this boy I like, his name is Peter. H-“

“Your best friend, Peter? That you’ve talked about before or a different Peter?” Spidey interrupts you in a confused tone, and you bite back a smile.

“Same one. Anyway, we were supposed to go on a date-“

“A date?” Spider-Man interrupts again, and you can still hear the shock in his voice.

“Yeah, a date. Why is that weird? We were going to eat pizza and then play in the arcade at that place on Main street. Except he’s canceled three times now, and I-“

“Are you sure he knew it was a date? Maybe he didn’t know.” This time you roll your eyes at him.

“Can you stop interrupting me? You asked me what happened, so let me tell you.” You wag your nagging finger at him, and you earn a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Continue.” He holds up his hands in surrender, and you keep going.

“To answer your question, I assumed he knew it was a date. I made sure to emphasize that it was the first time we were hanging out not at one of our houses and I said ‘Let’s go out,’ so I guess I beat around the bush a little bit, but my point still felt like it was made. Anyway, I’m not even mad about him not showing up. I’m mad that he won’t tell me why he hasn’t been able to. Why can’t he give me a reason? It makes me feel like I can’t trust him after everything we’ve said to each other, he can’t let me know what’s going on with him?” You take a deep breath and try not to cry again. The ground below you looks lonely and empty.

“Maybe he has a good reason, even if you don’t know what it is. He might tell you one day. Or maybe he’s protecting you by not telling you.” You whip your head to look at Spider-Man. He’s taking Peter’s side, and he didn’t even know Peter.

“Are you kidding me? You’re on his side? You don’t even know him, but you’re just like him apparently. I don’t know why I didn’t see it. We’ve been friends for what? A long time and you’ve never told me who you are. I bet you wouldn’t right? You can’t, because it’s just one of those things.” You use air quotes and then stand up. Spidey stands with you on the ledge, careful to watch in case you fall.

“If you know who I am someone who is targeting me could also target you. You’re smart enough to figure that out, Y/N.” He says quietly, you can’t see his eyes, but you feel like he’s looking into yours.

“I don’t care about having a target on my back. I care that the two friends I thought I had don’t trust me enough to let me in on their lives. I knew making friends when I moved here was a bad idea. I’ve been alone at every other school, and I shouldn’t have assumed this would be any different. Don’t come back here if you see me up here.” You’re angry again but still crying because it hurts. You trusted them, but they didn’t feel like they could trust you.

As you start to climb back down the fire escape, you hear him tell you not to go. You don’t reply, and then you feel something sticky wrap around your hand. Before you can blink, you’re behind pulled through the air. You land in Spider-Mans arms, and he sets you down.

“Did you actually just stop me from leaving? Don’t do that again. I’m going home.” You turn around, but he grabs your hand again. The spandex of his suit feels weird against your soft skin. You don’t look back at him.

“Please Y/N. I’m sorry. I never wanted you to feel like you were alone.” For the first time, you think Spider-Man is crying. “I can explain everything if you’ll just look at me.”

His last sentence is clear as day. Usually, his voice is muffled by the mask just a little bit. It sounds odd like… You turn around to see Peter. He’s in the Spider-Man suit, minus the mask, his hair is a mess from having been flattened and then released. His eyes are red and puffy, and tears are running down his cheeks, much like yours.

“Peter? You’re Spider-Man? This is why you missed our date?” You’re shocked. You can barely make out the words, but Peter nods solemnly.

“I swear, Y/N, I didn’t know it was a date. I’m dense and oblivious sometimes, and I honestly would’ve never put it together, but if I had known I would’ve done so many things for you. I like you, and I’d love to go on a date, and I’m just really sorry it all happened this way.” Peter takes a deep breath but still looks at you like he’s in pain.

“It’s okay, I get it now. All I wanted was an explanation, Peter. Thank you.” You hold your arms open, and he smiles before he steps into you. The embrace is warm and Peter is a little sweaty but it’s okay.

“So tomorrow at 7, I’ll come get you and we’ll go on a real date. Pizza and arcade games?” Only a few hints are left on Peters face that he had been crying.

“Of course. I’ll be there if you’ll be there.” You wink at him and he takes your hand and swings them back and forth between the two of you.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

+

Feedback is always appreciated! Please like or reblog if you enjoyed it 💞

Taglist: @calumsnatchedmyheart @aulxna @sebastian-sunshine-stan @mikeyglifford @fluffsshawn @lustingfor5sos @bodaciousbonzi1996 (if u wanna be removed let me know!)

[sim-songs]

“hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

So I wanted to answer all of these, because why not you know? @dreamsongsims now you can learn more about Belgium ;)

It’s under the read more so I don’t clog up your dashboards.

1. favourite place in your country? Honestly my home. I am living in Antwerp right now with the bf and I honestly love it, even though we aren’t really going outside much right now bc of the virus. I do miss the green and the “not city” smell haha

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad? I am okay with both. My family always goes on vacations during holidays, the last few years we’ve gone to Thailand for example but I’m more interested in staying closer to home. I LOVE Norway and want to go on holiday there again but it’s expensive.

3. does your country have access to sea? Yes. 67 kilometers of ugly “badsteden” lol (literally means bathing towns). To be honest I like the coast in the Netherlands better because it isn’t as gray and superficial.

4. favourite dish specific for your country? A nice “frietje van de frituur” (french fries), specifically a “frietje speciaal”, that’s french fries with ketchup, mayo and thinly sliced onion.

5. favourite song in your native language? I hate Belgian music, absolutely despise every Dutch song on the radio. But if I have to pick one its Goud from Bazart, it’s an older song by now but it’s one of the few I did not mind listening to.

6. most hated song in your native language? As soon as I read this I immediately thought of Banaan from Jebroer. Just shudders ugh. But really all Dutch songs in this style.

7. three words from your native language that you like the most? I’m gonna paste my earlier answer here: Hmm that's a hard one for me... Gezellig is a word I've always liked bc it doesn't have a real translation, just like cozy or smt. Another one I like is grassprietjes, meaning blades of grass bc it sounds funny and kinda rolls of the tongue and non dutch people will never be able to properly say that! and a third is eenzaam, meaning lonely. I don't really know why I like that one tbh

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom? I don’t really remember ever being confused for another nationality. I have read that Dutch sounds like German on crack, and that Belgian Dutch is easier than Netherlands Dutch for foreigners.

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best? Visit most: France and Germany, I have been to them both already but never for long and a long time ago. Know best: Probably the Netherlands. We share a language after all so we share some cultural things! (Does Temptation Island count as a cultural thing lol?)

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language? Mmm tough one to answer, because me and my bf are big English speakers so most of our swearing is of the “fuck” variety. I like “godverdomme” (god dammit) and what my dad sometimes says “godverdomme miljaarde nondeju” (there is literally nothing I can do to translate this)

11. favourite native writer/poet? I can’t think of any poets, but I like the writer Valerie Eykmans, specifically the book “Verloren Maandag”

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem? So I really like “Het Weer” by Hugo Claus, I even have a poster in our living room with the poem in his handwriting.

Weather

How was the weather in the country without you? At first mist fell over the concrete mountains.

Then the sun hung like mist over the mother-of-pearl sand.

Then the sky moved and became clammy as your armpits.

A lightning closed my teeth.

And everywhere the smell rose of the big animals that don't exist

unless in the ringing of your ear, in the rustle of your hair.

That's how it was back there without you. You are the air pressure and the dew and the snow in my skull.

It does not rhyme much in Dutch, it’s more about the rhythm of the words, so as far as the translation goes it’s pretty accurate in it’s contents but the rhythm is definitely off in the translated version

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders? What immediately comes to mind is the whole “Sinterklaas” problem where every year the discourse starts again whether or not the “Zwarte Pieten” are racist. Honestly not gonna comment on that because it’s not my place to feel offended or otherwise about this issue. Another thing that’s a bit more lighthearted is the “jaarmarkt” in our hometown, it’s like a big market that always finds place on the first sunday of the year. There’s a “stoet” (procession) with the walking orchestra, horses, horses and carriages, dogs and a whole load of tractors all going to get blessed at the church where the pastor throws holy water on everyone passing by. I have a love hate relationship with this tradition because it’s always freezing, and the tractors take forever to end. Oh and the main street of our town is completely closed of and there’s a big market with stalls in the street and everyone gets drunk of of the “jenevers” from the Scouts stalls lol.

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV? Not really, the only thing I used to watch was “Helden van Hier: Brandweer” (Heroes from here: fire brigade), it was just following the fire brigade around to fires and what not.

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get? ah je moe kakken moe je kakken he 😉

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with? Hate: Belgians are small-minded people not interested in anything going on outside of their home. Just not true at all. Sure there are people like that but every country has those. Agree: Belgians are hard to get to know. I hear this one a lot and I can see why people say that.

17. are you interested in your country’s history? Copied from an earlier answer: I am interested in history in general, it was one of my favourite classes in high school. I do like learning about Belgian history, mainly because Belgian history is, in one term, a messy bitch

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language? Yes, I speak with a “Kempisch” accent, but in general I’m still pretty understandable.

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem? I really don’t care about our flag, the Flemish Lion is being overly politicized to exclude the Walons lately and our national anthem is meh, no one can sing it and it’s more of a joke to people my age I think.

20. which sport is The Sport in your country? Soccer (or football idk) and veldrijden (literally field riding, but cyclo-cross as the translation) GO Wout van Aert! (idc abt sports but he’s local to me so)

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be? I’m not sure if this means you want to get rid of it or if you want to memorialize it? Getting rid of “Manneken Pis” because he’s stupid and memorializing an entire classic “frietkot”

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed? Proud: Our cultural diversity and lately our banding together during the crisis Ashamed: All the racists (looking at you Vlaams Belang)

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country? BEER, ALL THE BEER

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country? Honestly our own nation is most joked about for good reasons. Flemish joke about the Walons and vice versa, and everyone jokes about the joke that is our government.

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country? I’m happy where I’m at now, so no.

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal? I have never seen any prominent representation of Belgian in a Hollywood movie.

27. favourite national celebrity? Probably Tom Waes

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites? We dont have much haha, we have rivers, most notably “De Shelde” which runs though Antwerp not too far from my apparment.

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country? Flemish and Walons have always had beef, so yeah.

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family? I had a phase where I was into genealogy and it’s safe to say I’m one of the most Belgian Belgians out there lol, especially on mothers side her family literally has been living in the same place since the 1600′s and my grandparents had never seen the ocean until my parents took them.

[goraturtle]

1 - 43 please!

WHEWWWWW, i told myself i’d do these questions for two of my main current ocs i play in weekly motw sessions, Astrid and Frankie, if i got any, so let’s goooooo

under a readmore bc this is long and i’m not evil

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

Astrid - if she’s with someone? Astrid could probably sit in companionable silence for hours, and she’s very much a “falling asleep on people as a love language” kind of person, so if she trusts u and has time to kill she Will fall asleep on you. If she’s by herself waiting for something to happen or already twitchy to begin with? she could probably stand like 3 minutes before getting agitated and pacing around or finding something to do

Frankie - if she’s ever in a spot where she can’t think of anything to do, she will Find something to do and then get so absorbed in it she won’t move an inch over the course of literal hours. either that or if she’s with people she’ll be content to just laze around and hang out

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Astrid - not very easy at all, she’s more likely to roll her eyes at you if you try to say something funny or elbow you sharply in the ribs if she doesn’t approve of your joke lol

Frankie - extremely easy, frankie is generally pretty easygoing + especially loves to make other people laugh

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Astrid - this kid is kind of a mess so she’s very much one of those “go over everything in your head that could possibly go wrong in the future” kind of people, which, as you can imagine, doesn’t rlly help with sleep

Frankie - for plot reasons [tw terminal illness ///] (ie. Frankie is actually extremely ill and her backstory is that she came to town seeking a magical cure to save her own life) Frankie is usually so bone weary she doesn’t need a routine. From a young age she’s been good at falling asleep wherever/whenever she wants, but these days the second she hits a slightly cushioned piece of furniture, she’s out like a light (and also a very heavy sleeper)

How easy is it to earn their trust?

Astrid - surprisingly easy if you’re a decent person. she might still be slow to open up but that doesn’t mean that trust isn’t there. for all her prickliness, Astrid likes to believe in the good in people (to her frustration)

Frankie - Not that easy actually! Frankie likes to believe in the good in people too, but she tends to be highly suspicious of strangers

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

Astrid - depends on the person, very VERY difficult if you’re someone she’s already trusted bc she has a hard time wrapping her head/heart around betrayal (even if she projects otherwise) but if you’re just some rando it’s easy to land yourself on her shitlist

Frankie - Also not easy, she doesn’t mistrust unless you give her a reason to. She’s just pretty neutral on people and tries to cover her bases until she’s got cause to believe otherwise

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

Astrid - my baby was a thief for most of her life before getting scooped up and conscripted into being a superhero, so in general she does not give a shit about the law

Frankie - you know, for a law school dropout you’d think Frankie would care more about laws, but she doesn’t. not even a little bit.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Astrid - I think seeing happy families for her is a unique trigger, reminds her of when her mom was still around and when her twin siblings were babies. She was separated from the twins for years, and has reconnected with one of them, so I think even spending time w/ her little sis has been triggering major nostalgia as well. She wants to tell her baby sister more about how things were (Caroline was too little to retain most memories from back then) but doesn’t want to push too hard, and doesn’t know how to open up about memories she’s kept close for years. The feeling is painful, but little by little she’s learning to cope w/ it and appreciate it.

Frankie - Happy families is probably a trigger for Frankie as well, since she left home after highschool after getting into a dumb argument w/ her dad. She was always going to go home after getting her law degree, but got her diagnosis + discovered the existence of magic and that changed everything. That nostalgia is extremely painful for her, and she tries to block it out as much as possible, since she knows that the next time she sees her parents it’ll either be after she figures out a cure for herself or once she gives up completely and goes home to accept her fate

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child

Astrid - she was a bit of a gregarious wildchild so it was a lot of exasperated “get DOWN from there” “Astrid stop RUNNING” “Don’t forget to hold my hand when we cross the street!!!”s from her mom lol. poor woman.

Frankie - Frankie was a very shy little kid, so it was a lot of gentle coaxings from her parents for her to speak up

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

Astrid - fuck yeah she does, hers was probably “fuck you”

Frankie - absolutely. she probably swore the first time after hearing her dad cuss or something, so it’d be something like “son of a bitch” or something (her dad probably lost his mind laughing after he heard her say it, and her mom would NOT have been happy w him lol)

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

Astrid - She hasn’t told her baby sister that she was a thief before her current gig, and that makes her feel bad honestly

Frankie - the lie by omission about her general health and why she came to town in the first place. it haunts her literally every single day.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

Astrid - she does not ask questions, probably acts like she understands/is above the conversation but you could definitely catch her side-eyeing people or eavesdropping to try and understand

Frankie - outright is like ‘haha what’

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

Astrid - will scratch herself on every single inanimate object she can reach, scowling the entire time

Frankie - complain very loudly to incite sympathy and help

What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

Astrid - she generally wears a lot of black/dark blue. She looks good in dark blue, but she also looks great in brighter jewel tones (she won’t wear them though bc she thinks it’s ‘Too Much’)

Frankie - she wears a TON of color all the time, think tacky buttondowns every single day, but she thinks she looks best in that soft peachy kind of orange (and she’s absolutely right)

What animal do they fear most?

Astrid - *takes a long draw off an old wooden pipe* Mankind

Frankie - she was kind of woodsy as a kid, living in montana, so i don’t think she’s really afraid of any animals. maybe a healthy respect for bears? now that she’s a werewolf i don’t think she’s scared of any animals at all

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

Astrid - definitely an on-the-spot thinker

Frankie - she’s very careful about what she says, generally, but she can blurt stuff out if she’s feeling emotional/not in control

What makes their stomach turn?

Astrid - cruelty in general. She’s lived a hard life and isnt afraid to punch hard, but she doesn’t understand delighting in someone’s suffering

Frankie - thoughts of impending inescapable death

Are they easily embarrassed?

Astrid - depends, most things won’t rattle her but I think genuine affection when she isn’t expecting it will get her a little flustered

Frankie - no she’s a rock. the only thing that could make her blush would be like a genuine romantic confession + someone being interested in her in that way

What embarrasses them?

whoops, see above

What is their favorite number?

Astrid - does not care

Frankie - 420

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

Astrid - she’d probably roll her eyes and be like “Don’t be stupid, do I really have to explain something so obvious to you?”

Frankie - “Well first of all if I wanna kiss them on the lips it’s romantic”

Why do they get up in the morning?

Astrid - more habit than anything most days, but she gets up for her little sister, for her teammates, and in the hopes that they’ll be able to find the other twin, her brother, very soon

Frankie - very much does not want to die or let down the people who have supported her since coming to down.

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

Astrid - she’d get possessive but ONLY in private, afterwards. Astrid would react off the cuff and get pretty pissy, but get even angrier at herself for lashing out + leave/avoid the person for a while to try and control herself

Frankie - I don’t think she’s used to being possessive so it would take her completely by surprise. She’d get very hurt, and wouldn’t necessarily be aloof, but she’d try to remove herself from the situation so she’s ‘not in the way’. She’d probably get pissed at herself for even feeling hurt, when it’s not like she’s in any position to be laying the foundation for a future anywhere

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

Astrid - thief, so. she will definitely just take that shit provided there’s nothing else to make her hesitate (ie. it’s not a special trinket/memento and provided the person she’s stealing from isn’t struggling to make ends meet)

Frankie - I can’t see her getting envious over a possession or anything honestly

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

Astrid - yeah, why not honestly. I think she’d be fine talking generally about it w/ anyone. She does NOT want to hear any details about her two madly in love middle aged coworkers fucking, though, please no

Frankie - definitely. not a lot of romantic experience, but Frankie is old hat at hookups/one night stands and doesn’t shy away from talking about it if asked. I think she’s more embarrassed about never having been in a real relationship than she is about her sexual history

What are their thoughts on marriage?

Astrid - her mom never got married (she has a different father from the twins, and in both cases the dad fucked off and left after her mom realized she was pregnant) and she is terrified of letting people down, so at the moment she isn’t rlly excited about that kind of thing. Her ex, Charlie, also betrayed her and hurt her pretty badly, and even though they were teenagers Astrid still thought of her as being The One, so she’s doubtful about ever finding or wanting to find a replacement. She’s still young and traumatized though, and I can easily see her mind changing

Frankie - literally domestic life would be bliss for her, but she doesn’t even let herself think about a serious relationship, let alone marriage, bc she does not anticipate living long

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

Astrid - she had this shitty old 2003 chevy silverado she drove for years that she’s still got a soft spot for, even if she’ll swear up and down to any witness that she hates the damn thing

Frankie - she’s got a little prius-c bc i wanted to shove her into a clown car, but she grew up on her parents’ horse farm in montana and tbh. nothing can beat horseback for her.

What causes them to feel dread?

Astrid - these days? being alone/feeling exposed. She’s gotten used to her backup. Also thinking about her lost twin brother has been a major source of dread/pain for her lately

Frankie - when she wakes up in the morning and the body aches and chills are worse than the day before

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

Astrid - no and if she caught someone lying to her just to save her feelings she’d be SO mad, prepare to get ur ass beaten by this maladjusted 5′1 twenty five year old

Frankie - definitely not. which is hypocritical as hell for her, all things considered

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

Astrid - she sets very high standards for herself that she can’t possibly meet, so no. she’s still trying to feel like she belongs as a superhero

Frankie - usually, but obviously her lying about her health is a major blind spot where she becomes extremely hypocritical

Who do they most regret meeting?

Astrid - i’d say on the surface she says she regretted meeting her ex, Charlie, but that’s not true, not even a little bit. She’s still heartsick over everything that happened between them

Frankie - there was an incident with a werewolf hunter (who Frankie had helped to save the life of) going after Lou and Selene. Lou got shot (Frankie healed him) and the two of them had to kill her, which was obviously traumatizing for them. Frankie still wishes that they’d never even seen the hunter in the first place and regrets saving her life

Who are they the most glad to have met?

Astrid - when she was conscripted into the superhero biz and given her powers, she was put onto a team with two other supers named Arsenal and Bullet (the other player characters, real names are Heather and Cyrus), who are middle aged pros very used to the field. Astrid’s only 25 so they naturally kind of leaned into the parent relationship, and Astrid loves them so much. It was rocky at first because Astrid was adjusting and wasn’t even sure she wanted to be there, but they have been so patient and kind at this point i think Astrid would literally do anything for them

Frankie - the other player characters, again (two twins named Selene and Lou who are members of the local werewolf pack. Frankie got bit in the first session to see if a werewolf’s healing abilities could cure her. It didn’t work), but especially Selene. They’ve been bonding a lot lately and as much as Frankie wants to keep everyone at bay in case she fails and has to leave town in the middle of the night, everyone she’s met in town has made a big impact on her.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

Astrid - her only ‘joke’ is that she rolls her eyes constantly. in the early games when she was still too emotionally constipated to really chat with Arsenal/Heather and Bullet/Cyrus i made her roll her eyes like every 3 seconds. She doesn’t think she’s a very funny person and spent a lot of time growing up trying to focus on keeping herself fed/safe so she feels awkward trying to crack jokes + has a (correct) feeling that most of her ‘stories’ from her teenage years would horrify Heather and Cyrus

Frankie - she’s been very cagey about details about her personal life in-game, but I am very excited for her to tell the story about when a horse kicked her and broke 3 ribs when she was like 8

Could they be considered lazy?

Astrid - definitely not. this girl would not know how to relax if you paid her

Frankie - if she’s stoned? yes. (she self medicates)

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

Astrid - hard, but she also doesn’t seek validation from other people. A pep talk from her two favorite work parents would probably go a long way (which is probably a small reason why she doesn’t ask for that from them, since she’s a little self-punishing)

Frankie - easy enough throughout the day when she’s busy, but feelings like that tend to come for you when things get quiet

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

Astrid - not used to people coming to her bc they’re excited, usually ppl come to her w/ Problems, but she’d be very supportive, if a bit awkward

Frankie - VERy supportive, 10/10, will get extremely invested for your sake

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

Astrid - she sought it out with her ex Charlie, initially, when they were teenagers, and has been kind of closed off ever since, aside from the occasional one night stand here and there. Even those, she waits for it, though. Having your ex kick you out and try to hurt you does a number on the ol’ self esteem. She’s not really interested in romance currently

Frankie - doesn’t seek it out at all except in a purely sexual context when she’s bored (w/ others strictly looking for the same) bc she doesn’t feel like she’s got enough time left to give to someone right now. Also, genuinely, she’s got some self esteem issues as well and can’t fathom someone wanting her for more than just one night

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

Astrid - nope, not at all. If she did she would have gotten a lot better grades in middle school/early high school (she dropped out like freshman year)

Frankie - she just writes everything down in a notebook

What memory do they revisit the most often?

Astrid - the night that Charlie told her to get lost and then tried to kill her. She hasn’t come to terms with it yet.

Frankie - the last time she saw her parents. When her dad lost his temper and said “If you’re gonna walk out that door then don’t come back” and she, in all of her 18 year old stubbornness, followed directions to the letter. She had a good relationship w/ her dad, they’re both just stubborn and stupid. she wishes she could have repaired things sooner

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

Astrid - extremely easy, she doesn’t exactly see herself as having a leg to stand on.

Frankie - easy, everyone fucks up, she’s more interested in communication and willingness to make things better than she is in perfection

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

Astrid - EXTREMELY sensitive

Frankie - fairly sensitive, she’s very self aware of her shortcomings but stays quiet about them since most of them are really only apparent to her

How do they feel about children?

Astrid - loves kids, terminal big sis syndrome. will never want her own bc she’s terrified of fucking up and thinks she would make a bad mom

Frankie - likes kids, once again doesn’t rlly think about them as being a possibility for her. When she’s cured and ready to start considering a future (the gm isn’t gonna kill her i trust her too much we’re just in this for the angst) i think she’ll really want children, she’d consider it a privilege to raise a child. Also she’d be the perfect dad joke lesbian

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

Astrid - she went from a lonely thief to a superhero being slowly reunited w/ her family, plus she’s made a new kind of family in the process. All she wants is to find her baby brother right now, and she’ll do anything to make sure he’s safe and sound.

Frankie - so bad it hurts. what started out as her being purely scared of dying has also quickly turned into her wanting to live and stay more with these people she’s met.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

Astrid - “Girls.”

Frankie - “Haha, why, you interested? *winks*” (but also lesbian as well)

[winnipegpatty]

untimely conversations | s.m. one shot

a/n: this if for the anon that requested shawn and reader get in a fight at his parents house. this is 3k full of nice angst. please send me your feedback and check out my masterlist and also consider buying me a ko-fi if you enjoyed it (links in the bio)!! love youuuu!

“My parents want to have dinner with us this week?”

They were cuddled together in bed on a Wednesday night, and Shawn was tired from the studio work he’d been doing early in the week.

“Sounds nice,” Y/N replied groggily, “Haven’t seen them in a while.”

Shawn nodded before yawning, “Just been so busy.” His voice was quiet and heavy with sleep.

She nodded against his shoulder before she kissed it lightly. She started drawing small patterns on Shawn’s stomach, liking the way his stomach rose and fell with his breathing. They were quiet for a while, and Y/N was sure he must have gone to sleep, his breathing having evened out slightly.

“If my mom mentions an engagement,” Shawn said softly after a while, “just, don’t get upset, okay?”

Her fingers stilled against his chest, going completely flat over his heart, “Why would she ask about that?”

Shawn sighed, turning slightly so that he could see Y/N’s face. “Well, you know Karen,” he said using his mother’s first name. “She’s a little traditional in some respects, and she’s just, uh,” Shawn stammered for a moment, unsure of his words.

“Shawn,” she wandered, “What’s going on?”

“We’ve been together for almost three years, and living together for a year a half, and I think she’s just getting tired of waiting around for it to happen.” Shawn let out a breath, slightly blowing over top her head.

“Did she actually mention this, or are you just assuming?” Y/N tilted her head up slightly to look at Shawn’s as they lie side by side.

“Not exactly, but she hinted strongly, you know how mothers do.”

Y/N was silent for a while. The truth was, she had to agree with Karen. It’s not that she had expected Shawn to propose quickly or anything, not at all. Especially not with the life he lived. He had to be cautious with who he let in, but the question of whether or not to let her into his life had long since passed. She’d squeezed her way into every aspect of Shawn’s life. He wrote songs about her, brought her on tour often, talked about her in interviews. She’d met his family years ago and was a regular in his friend group at this point. She was sure after moving in together that it would be the next step, but they’d been living together for a year and a half and there hadn’t been any progress in that area. And she wasn’t exactly upset with Shawn about this. She loved Shawn and enjoyed the life they spent with each other. But Karen’s expectation for them to get married wasn’t entirely far fetched.

“Well,” she finally spoke, “I won’t get upset.”

Shawn nodded before leaning down and kissing her lips lightly, whispered his love to her in the quiet of the night. They fell asleep not to long after, both completely bone tired from a hard days work.

___

Friday came around, and the dinner with Karen and Manny was set to start in thirty minutes. Y/N was still struggling to find the right outfit, something cute and dressy but not too cute or too dressy.

“Which one?” She asked Shawn, coming out of the closet holding up two vastly different ensembles.

Shawn, not looking up from his phone where he was typing furiously, “Either is great, babe.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “You didn’t even look, Shawn.”

Shawn, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from his phone, looked at the two options before saying, “Left,” and then returning to his phone.

“You sure that’s not too...sexy?”

Shawn huffed, “Y/N, I don’t care. My parents aren't going to care. They love you, just pick one.”

She turned, frustrated with Shawn’s lack of help, and returned to the closet, eventually choosing a completely different outfit all together. Ten minutes later she emerged from the closet, ready to go. She grabbed her clutch from the bedside table and asked Shawn if he was ready.

“Mhmm,” Shawn mumbled, standing up robotically as he followed her out of the condo on autopilot, reaching the car in no time.

The drive to the Mendes household was quick and quiet, as Y/N stared out the window, watching as they slowly left their familiar surroundings of downtown Toronto and headed towards the land of suburbia, Pickering.

“Andrew wants me in the studio all day tomorrow,” Shawn said as they hit the halfway mark between Toronto and Pickering.

Her eyes left the window and snapped to Shawn, shocked. “What? It’s Saturday Shawn, and you’ve been there all week!”

Shawn sighed, tapping the steering wheel, “I know. But recording is almost done, and he doesn’t want to have to have to book another week.”

Y/N looked down at her lap, flicking at her chipped nail polish. “I thought, maybe we could do something together tomorrow though…”

Shawn glanced over apologetically, “I know, I know… Saturdays are usually our day together, but I’m sorry. You know what Andrew wants, he gets.”

“It’s not just Saturday, Shawn…” She trailed over quietly.

“There’s nothing I can do. It’s out of my hands, I just wanted to let you know.” Shawn responded, frustration lacing his tone.

Looking back out the window where a light snow had begun to fall, Y/N stayed silent for the rest of the drive trying not to think about the fact that Shawn seems to have completely forgotten their third anniversary.

Once they’d made their arrival, Karen and Manny greeted them warmly, welcoming them into their home and bringing them out of the cold snow.

“How are you doing, baby?” She asked Shawn sweetly as she kissed his temple lightly.

“Good, work has been crazy, just really tired lately.”

She nodded in understanding before pulling Y/N into a hug, “And how you are, darling?”

Y/N hugged her back lightly, nestling her head into her shoulder searching for a sense of comfort, “I’m doing fine,’ she finally responded, pulling back slightly.

Karen eyed her for a moment before replying with a sharp nod, “That’s good.”

Manny got the two of them drinks, and together the four of them wandered into the living area, each finding seats around the room, Y/N sitting next to Shawn, but not touching. Their legs weren’t pressed against each others like they normally would be, and Shawn eyed Y/N for a moment where she was sat. He decided to not say anything, instead turning his attention to his parents.

“How’s Liyah?” He asked.

“Oh you know, just being a teenage girl,” Karen smiled sweetly.

Manny sat up, leaning slightly towards Shawn, “You know she started looking at universities last month.”

Shawn’s eyes widened, “What? No. Already?”

“Well she is almost seventeen, love.” Karen laughed.

“Don’t remind me,” Shawn grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What schools is she looking at?” Y/N asked, entering the conversation.

“Mostly local stuff, but she is looking at a few in Montreal and BC. And two in the States and one in London.”

Shawn’s jaw dropped, “Why does she even need to look at so many schools?”

Karen laughed, “It’s early in the process honey, she’s just looking at lots of options. She’ll narrow it down when it gets closer.”

“Li is so smart,” Y/N whispered, almost as though she were talking to herself, “She could do anything.”

Karen smiled softly at the young girl, “She is a bright one. We got very lucky with our two.” She directed her smile at Shawn, who was probably already blushing. Y/N didn’t know though because she was only looking at her lap, thinking about how lucky she thought she was for having someone like Shawn. Wondering where they went wrong and lost communication.

At dinner, Manny and Shawn carried most of the conversation, with Karen and Y/N only piping in for a few one liners here and there. But Y/N was content in her quiet place. Retreating to the back of her mind, that’s where she liked to be anyway. It was the place where people couldn’t hurt her, she could really only hurt herself.

“So, Y/N,” Karen asked later in the evening. Their plates almost empty and they were finishing their second glass of wine. “Are there any big plans coming up for you?”

She watched Karen for a moment, not entirely sure what she meant. “No,” she answered, “Just the usual at work. We’ve got a pretty big case right now that we’re working on, trying to find a good stable home for one particular kid who’s been in and out of homes for a while.”

Karen hummed sadly, “That must be hard, seeing so many kids living rough childhoods.”

She nodded, “It is, but we’re there to help and to try and connect as many kids as we can with stable, loving homes.”

“Do you ever think about having kids of your own one day?” Karen asked innocently.

“Mom--” Shawn warned, stepping in immediately.

“What?” She raised her hands, looking at Shawn. “It’s a simple question, with absolutely no relation to you, unless you’ve changed your name.”

Shawn rolled his eyes, looking at his girlfriend, “You do not have to answer her if you feel uncomfortable.”

Y/N turned to Shawn, “Why would that make me uncomfortable?” She rolled her eyes at Shawn’s childish behavior before returning her gaze to Karen. “I’d love to have children eventually. But I don’t see it happening any time soon.”

“Well some things take…” Karen paused for a moment, glancing at Shawn, “Time.”

Shawn leaned back in his chair, groaning. “Mom, please you said you wouldn’t do this.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Shawn.” She took a sip of her wine.

“Shawn, it’s fine.” Y/N said, lightly placing her hand on his bicep.

“Is it such a crime to wonder whether or not my own son plans on ever getting married?” Karen directed the question to Manny, who wisely stayed completely silent on the manner.

“Mom!” Shawn shouted, frustrated. “We have talked about this so many times, why do you always have to bring it up. Just stop! Y/N doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to ruin the evening with this conversation every goddamn time we come over!” Shawn huffed, running a hand through his hair.

Y/N coughed uncomfortably, saying quietly, “Well, I’m perfectly fine discussing it.”

Shawn’s pupils flared, studying his girlfriend for a moment, not entirely sure why she was being so difficult right now. Shawn just wanted this conversation to move forward, but it seemed that everyone in the room was working against him. “What do you mean?” He criticized.

“I’m just saying,” she breathed out, “that it’s not an entirely unfair question ask.”

Shawn grinded his teeth. “You want to talk about this here, right now, in front of my parents?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she explained. “I’m just saying your mom is right to wonder when you might want to get married considering you’ve been dating your girlfriend for three years. Or did you forget that it’s been three years?”

If there ever was someone who resembled one of those cartoon characters with steam coming out of their eyes and their face burning red, it was Shawn right now. Y/N had never seen Shawn quite so livid, but frankly she didn’t really care.

“So what? You wanna get married?” Shawn snarled. “We can get married.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and didn’t bother responding.

“No,” Shawn said, completely on edge now. “You want to talk about this? Let’s fucking talk, Y/N! You want to be a goddamn brat and demand that we discuss this in front of my parents, then let’s do it.You want kids too, I know you do. So how many? Do you already have their names picked out?”

“Shawn, that’s enough.” Karen said, finally stepping in.

“It’s fine, Karen.” Y/N whispered, defending herself, but still not responding to her boyfriend.

“No, it’s not,” Karen reprimanded, looking towards her son. “We never taught you to speak to women like that.”

“Give it a rest, mom.” Shawn said, standing up from his chair, pointing his finger at her defensively. “You started this in the first place. I told you not to bring this shit up, and you did it anyway.”

“Shawn,” Karen warned, equally as defensive as his son. She was ready to make any war he waged.

“Karen, really,” Y/N said trying to defuse the tense situation, “It’s fine. It’s very clear that Shawn doesn’t want to discuss marriage or anything of the like. I’m sure it has nothing to do with you. It has to do with me.”

“No, no. That’s not it.” Karen said in a calm motherly tone, trying to reassure the younger woman of her worth.

“Maybe that is is.” Shawn whispered, refusing to meet Y/N’s gaze.

Karen’s eyes snapped to Shawn, filled with anger. Manny’s weary gaze watched as Y/N’s eyes welled up lightly, she coughed trying to cover her hurt.

“I am not ready to get married, why is that so unacceptable?” Shawn wondered.

“It’s not,” Karen said in a stern, but calm voice. “What’s unacceptable is your current behavior and the way you’re speaking to your girlfriend, whom you’re supposed to love. If you’re not ready to get married, that’s perfectly alright. You’re both young. You have a lot going on in your careers. But if you’re unable to speak to your girlfriend in a calm, not demeaning manner then I believe I’ve completely failed you as a mother. You should never feel comfortable speaking to Y/N like that under any circumstances.”

Shawn looked down at his feet, shuffling uncomfortably. It had been a long while since he’d had a disappointed mother speech, but he’d recognize the tone in her voice anywhere. It was the kind of speech that tore your gut apart from the inside out with worry because you’d managed to disappoint your mother. There were very few feelings worse than this one.

“You need to apologize to her.” Karen spoke again.

“Mom,” Shawn moaned, “I’m not a five years old anymore.”

Karen’s eyes widened, “Could have fooled me.”

Shawn’s shoulders hunched over in embarrassment, finally looking at Y/N. He held his hand out to her, ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut when he finally saw that she’d been crying. “Can we talk?”

Y/N took his hand, following him down the hall and into his childhood bedroom. Shawn closed the door behind them, leaning against the door. Their hands, still lightly clasped together, hung loosely between the two of them.  

“I’m sorry!” Shawn whispered.

“Saturday’s our three year anniversary,” Y/N rushed at the same time Shawn spoke.

“Wait what?” Shawn asked, eyes wide in shock.

Y/N’s lip wavered, knowing Shawn really had forgotten. “Our three year, it’s tomorrow. And you didn’t even remember.”

“No, it can’t be it’s not even…” Shawn trailed off, thinking back on what month it was and how far they were into the month before he let out a, “Fuck.” He hit his head back on the door. “I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N tugged on his hand, turning to face him on the door. “I don’t care that you don’t want to get married. Or that you don’t want to get married right now. Or have children or whatever. We haven’t talked a whole lot about those things, and I’m perfectly fine with that. But when you didn’t remember our anniversary, it killed me a little bit inside. Shawn, I know that one day I want to marry you. I know that one day I want to have your kids. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are the only person for me. There’s no question in my mind. I don’t care when those things happen. They could happen tomorrow or in thirty years. I just know that there’s not a single day I want to live without you. And you forgetting something like that, really makes me question if you like that towards me or if I’m just a familiar comfort for you.”

Shawn reached out, cupping her cheek. “No, no please don’t say those things. They’re not true. I could never ask for anyone greater than you. There is no one more perfect for me than you. There’s no one else I think about, no one else I’d rather be with. It’s only you. And it’s always going to be you. You’re absolutely the person I see by my side at every major event in my life down the road.” Shawn rested his forehead against hers. “This is a fucking weak excuse, but it’s all I have. Work has been insane, and I should have put more priority on your and our relationship, but I didn’t. And for that I’m sorry. I am sorry for forgetting something so important. There isn’t an excuse that makes up for that. And I’m still going to have to go to work tomorrow, but I swear to god, I will make it up to you. Please  forgive me. For everything. For what I said to you like a fucking idiot, and for the way I’ve treated you over the past few weeks.”

Y/N pressed her lips against Shawn’s, savoring the taste of wine on his lips. “I forgive you,” she said as she pulled away. “And I love your parents, but can we go home now because I really don’t want to have to deal with aftermath of that situation we just created.”

Shawn nodded, chuckling lightly. “I second that. I don’t think my mom has ever been more disappointed in me before. Not even when I broke up with my first girlfriend over text message.”

Y/N cringed, “Shawn.”

“I know, it was bad.” He laughed lightly again. “I love you.” He said through a trail of kisses on her jaw.

“I love you too,” she whispered. “But the apology isn’t going to come quite as easily next time if you talk to me like that again.”

“Noted. Now let’s go home.”

tagging: @peacedolantwins2 @rosecth @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @justanotherfangurl272 @yourwonderbelle (let me know if you wanna be added!)