#who im not sure if that was supposed to be Him or just a one off guy but either way wow

[joaosnovia]

Hi! Could you write something where the reader lives in Madrid and decides to go out to a bar with some college friends? It turns out that one of her friends' boyfriends is a friend of Jude and some other Real Madrid players. That night, the reader ends up meeting him. She already knew who he was—thought he was insanely attractive—but kept that to herself. That night, they just have a great conversation, full of flirting, but in a fun and natural way. When she gets home, she's completely dazzled—not just because of how good-looking he is, but because he’s actually really interesting too. She tells her college friends everything, but also her best friend. A few days later, the reader is at her internship (I imagine something in the healthcare field because it takes up a lot of her time). That day, her best friend is visiting, but since the reader is still at work, her best friend goes out with some of their other friends. The reader, exhausted from her shift, just wants to go home and sleep. She’s already turned down any plans for the night. But once she’s finally home, lying on the couch, she gets a message from her best friend: "You won’t believe this. Your man is here." She thinks about going but tells herself it's not worth it—they haven’t talked since that night, so why would she do this? Then, another message: "Girl, you cannot let this chance slip away." She finally gives in and goes. When she gets there, she spots him but pretends she hasn’t seen him—even though she knows he’s already seen her. And that night… something happens.

I thought of something like this. Sorry if it's a bit confusing—I've been thinking about this story for days. Could you please write it? I love your writing, and I'm sure it would be amazing!

❦ - madrid, maybe?

summary:: madrid was supposed to be about school, work, and keeping your head down, not late nights, stolen glances, and jude bellingham throwing your whole plan off track. you told yourself it was nothing. then again, madrid has a way of making nothing feel like everything.

warnings:: fair amount of cussing, alcohol consumption, reader is lowkey drunk asf, mentions of work related stress, a lot of angst (yeah im sorry for that but i needed to), eventual relationship && reader being a bit of a bitch.

writers note:: so i lowkey spent a LOT of hours doing this but i think it was worth it..? but anyways also lmk if i should make another part of the joao felix series! it could be longer but yk.

tags: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp

the night had started like any other.    

it had taken more convincing than usual to get you out. after a long week at your internship, long shifts, barely any sleep, endless responsibilities, you had been desperate for a night in. a night where you could just exist without needing to be on all the time.  

but your friends had other plans. you never come out anymore, they’d whined. one drink. just one drink.

so here you were, tucked into a crowded bar in the heart of madrid, nursing something cold in your hands while your college friends laughed and talked around you. it wasn’t bad, really. the music was good, the energy infectious. maybe you’d needed this more than you thought.  

you had just started to relax when a familiar name was dropped into the conversation.  

‘jude’s on his way,’ your friend’s boyfriend announced casually, barely looking up from his phone.  

the name sent a ripple of recognition through the group. your friends exchanged glances, excitement flashing in their eyes. even if you weren’t a huge football fan, you weren’t oblivious. you knew who he was.  

jude bellingham.  

and, sure, you’d seen the photos, watched the clips. it was impossible to live in madrid and not know about him. but the thought of actually meeting him? it was something you had never even considered.  

still, you kept your reaction to yourself. unlike the others, you weren’t about to sit there and gush about him like he was some unattainable celebrity. he was just a guy, right?  

just a guy.  

but then he walked in.  

and, immediately, you realized how wrong you were.  

he wasn’t just a guy.

he was tall. taller than you expected, effortlessly commanding the room without even trying. he moved with an ease that was almost unfair, like he knew exactly who he was, exactly what kind of attention he drew.  

and, god, he was stupidly attractive.  

even more than in pictures, sharper jawline, softer eyes, an easy sort of confidence that was somehow both infuriating and completely magnetic.  

you forced yourself to look away, taking a sip of your drink. you were not going to be one of those girls.  

but then, of course, he ended up right next to you.  

the introductions were quick, casual. your friend’s boyfriend did most of the talking, barely noticing the way jude’s eyes lingered on you a second longer than necessary.  

and then, suddenly, it was just the two of you.  

it started simple enough. polite conversation, the usual questions. but it didn’t take long for the banter to start.  

he was quick. sharp. he caught onto things most people wouldn’t, met your sarcasm with just as much of his own. you teased him about his spanish, about the way the entire bar had turned to look at him the moment he walked in.  

‘you’re used to this, aren’t you?’ you said at one point, tipping your glass slightly toward him.  

his lips quirked. ‘what?’

‘people staring at you.’

he leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. ‘you mean you staring at me?’

you rolled your eyes, even as heat crept up your neck. ‘please. you wish.’

he laughed at that, and you knew, without a doubt, that he was enjoying this. the game of it all. the push and pull.  

the night blurred after that. conversations overlapping, hands brushing, glances held a second too long.  

by the time you got home, you were dazed. not just from the drinks, not just from the way he looked at you, but from the way he was.

you told your friends everything. and, of course, you told your best friend.  

but then days passed. and he didn’t text.  

and why would he? it was just one night. just a conversation. he probably met a dozen new people a week.  

so you let it go. focused on work. exhausted yourself to the point where there was no room to think about anything else.  

until

‘you won’t believe this. your man is here.’

you stared at the message, blinking away the exhaustion.  

‘no way.’

you were sprawled on your couch, still in your scrubs, every muscle in your body aching from the shift you had just survived.  

you weren’t going out. you had already said no to at least three different invitations tonight. you needed sleep.  

but then another message.  

‘girl, you cannot let this chance slip away.’

you exhaled slowly, phone resting on your chest.  

your best friend was right. what were the chances? what if you never ran into him again?  

before you could overthink it, you got up. changed. left.  

the bar was even more packed than last time. but you spotted him immediately.

and you knew the exact moment he saw you.  

but instead of going to him, instead of acknowledging him at all, you walked right past him.  

you could feel his eyes on you.  

and then, minutes later

‘thought you weren’t coming,’ a voice murmured in your ear.  

you turned, already biting back a smile. ‘i wasn’t.’

he raised a brow. ‘what changed?’

you shrugged, playing it cool. ‘got bored.’

he laughed, shaking his head. ‘you’re trouble, aren’t you?’

‘depends on who you ask.’

‘and if i asked you?’

you met his gaze, holding it. challenging. ‘then i’d say you’ll have to find out for yourself.’

the way his eyes darkened at that; yeah. you knew exactly where this night was heading.

the thing about madrid was that it never really slept. neither did you, apparently.  

despite the exhaustion from your shift, despite knowing you’d regret this in the morning, you were here. back in a crowded bar, back in this game of glances and teasing remarks with jude bellingham.  

he was still standing close, still watching you like he knew exactly what you were doing.  

‘so, you gonna keep pretending you don’t see me?’ he asked, tilting his head slightly.  

‘i don’t know what you’re talking about,’ you said smoothly, sipping your drink.  

his lips quirked into that stupid, knowing smirk. ‘right. just a coincidence you walked past me like i was invisible.’

‘maybe you just are invisible," you shot back.  

he let out a short laugh, shaking his head. ‘you’re funny.’

‘i know.’

he eyed you for a moment, like he was trying to figure something out. then, casually, ‘so, you do this a lot?’

‘do what?’

‘show up at bars just to mess with guys?’

‘only the ones who deserve it.’

‘good to know,’ he murmured, leaning in slightly. ‘so, what makes me one of them?’

you didn’t answer right away. mostly because his proximity was making it hard to think straight. his cologne, something warm and expensive, lingered in the air between you. it didn’t help that his voice had dropped just enough to make your stomach flip.  

‘well,’ you said finally, keeping your tone light, ‘technically, you never texted me. so, really, i should be the one messing with you.’

his brows shot up. ‘i never texted you?’

‘yeah. you had my number, didn’t use it.’

he scoffed, amused. ‘first of all, i never got your number.’

you paused. ‘wait, really?’

‘yeah. really.’

you frowned, trying to remember if that was true. the night had been a blur, but, maybe he hadn’t gotten it?  

he watched your expression shift and grinned. ‘what, you thought i ghosted you?’

‘i mean… maybe?’

he shook his head, laughing. ‘nah, see, thats crazy. you deadass thought i’d just meet you, have that conversation, and then never hit you up?’

‘i don’t know, you meet a lot of people.’

‘yeah, and i remember the interesting ones.’

you didn’t respond to that. mostly because the words did something weird to your heart. instead, you just sipped your drink again, pretending it hadn’t fazed you.  

jude, apparently, wasn’t done.  

‘you gonna give it to me now?’

‘give you what?’

‘your number.’

you smirked. ‘hmm. i don’t know. you did ignore me for, like, a week.’

he rolled his eyes. ‘you just admitted that wasn’t my fault.’

‘still hurt my feelings, though.’

‘oh, yeah? you were heartbroken?’

‘devastated,’ you said solemnly. ‘could barely function.’

‘should i make it up to you, then?’

your heart skipped, but you kept your expression neutral. ‘and how exactly do you plan on doing that?’

his gaze flickered down to your lips; quick, barely noticeable. but you noticed.

‘i could think of a few ways.’ he said lightly.  

your stomach flipped.  

you should not be enjoying this as much as you were. but it was impossible not to. because the thing about jude was that he was good at this. good at knowing exactly when to push, exactly when to pull back.  

and maybe, just maybe, you were a little bit addicted to it.  

before you could say anything else, someone called his name from across the bar. you both turned, spotting one of his friends motioning for him to come over.  

‘you leaving?’ you asked.  

he looked at his friends, then back at you. ‘not yet.’

‘oh? got something better to do?’

his smirk was slow, deliberate. ‘yeah. think i do.’

an hour passed. maybe more.  

somewhere in between the second and third drink, the two of you had drifted toward a quieter part of the bar. still close to the crowd, but just far enough that the conversation felt more… intimate.  

he asked about your internship, your plans. listened intently, even as you rambled about how exhausting it was.  

‘so, basically, you’re a superhero,’ he said when you finished.  

you laughed. ‘that’s a bit of a reach.’

‘nah,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘saving lives, barely getting sleep. sounds heroic to me.’

you rolled your eyes, but your stomach did a stupid little flip at the way he said it.  

eventually, though, the energy around you shifted. the bar had thinned out, people heading home.  

you should’ve, too. but you weren’t ready yet.  

and neither was he.  

‘wanna get out of here?’ he asked suddenly.  

you glanced up. ‘oh?’

he huffed a laugh. ‘not like that.’

‘mhmm.’

i’m serious,’ he said, grinning. ‘just, wanna walk for a bit?’

you hesitated, then shrugged. ‘sure.’

the streets of madrid at night were something else. a little quieter now, but still buzzing, still alive.  

you and jude walked side by side, the conversation lighter now. less teasing, more comfortable.  

‘so, what do you actually do for fun?’ he asked at one point.  

you scoffed. ‘fun? don’t know her.’

‘nah, see, i knew you were gonna say that.’

‘because it’s true!’

he shook his head. ‘i don’t believe it. you have to have some kind of guilty pleasure.’

you thought for a second. ‘hmm. okay. maybe i watch reality tv when i’m too exhausted to do anything else.’

he gasped dramatically. ‘no way.’

‘shut up.’

‘what show?’

‘not telling you.’

‘nah, you have to tell me now.’

you pursed your lips. ‘love island.’

his eyes widened, like he’d just uncovered the greatest secret in the world.  

‘i knew you were toxic,’ he said, laughing.  

‘excuse me?’

‘nah, it makes sense now.’

‘okay, and what’s your guilty pleasure, then?’

he thought for a moment. ‘i still watch kids' cartoons sometimes.’

‘no way.’

‘swear down.’

you squinted at him. ‘you’re lying.’

‘i swear.’

you were still laughing when you realized you had stopped walking.  

and then you realized something else.  

you were standing too close.  

you weren’t sure who had moved first. all you knew was that his hand was brushing against yours now, his gaze a little softer, his voice a little lower.  

and suddenly, the air between you wasn’t just charged; it was buzzing.

you swallowed.  

‘so,’ he murmured, ‘if i asked you again…’

‘asked me what?’ you said, playing dumb.  

his lips quirked.  

‘for your number.’

your heart was racing now. but you still pretended to think about it.  

then, finally

‘guess you have to make it up to me somehow first.’

he grinned. ‘oh, yeah?’

‘yeah.’

‘and how exactly do you want me to do that?’

you smiled. ‘figure it out.’

judging by the look in his eyes, he already had an idea.

‘so, if i asked you again… for your number?’

‘guess you have to make it up to me somehow first.’

‘oh, yeah? and how exactly do you want me to do that?’

you had smiled, told him to figure it out.

and, of course, jude bellingham took that as a challenge.

hours earlier.  

the second you’d said the words, his grin had turned slow, deliberate.  

‘figure it out, huh?’

you shrugged, pretending to be unaffected by the way his gaze lingered on your lips before flickering back up to your eyes.  

‘if you really want my number, yeah,’ you said lightly. ‘gonna have to earn it.’

he let out a short laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you.  

‘alright,’ he said finally. ‘challenge accepted.’

the next hour had been a game.

you weren’t sure when the shift had happened; when the teasing had become this.

he had been trying to impress you before, sure. but now? now, jude was determined.

he had leaned into the flirting, turned up the charm to levels that should have been illegal.

he started making you laugh on purpose, telling ridiculous stories about his teammates, doing impressions, playing into every little quirk he had already picked up about you.  

when you rolled your eyes, he’d smirk and say, ‘there she goes again.’

when you crossed your arms, pretending to be unimpressed, he’d lean in and murmur, ‘c’mon, you’re dying to give me your number.’

he kept finding excuses to touch you; a hand on your back as you walked through the street, a brush of fingers when you reached for something at the same time. light touches, nothing overwhelming, but just enough to keep your heart racing.  

but you weren’t going to make it easy.  

you pushed back, met his teasing with just as much of your own. made him laugh, made him work for it.  

at one point, he sighed dramatically, tilting his head back.  

‘this is actually crazy,’ he said. ‘most girls would’ve given in by now.’

‘good thing i’m not most girls,’ you shot back.  

he looked at you then, something unreadable flickering in his expression.  

‘yeah,’ he said after a second. ‘guess you’re not.’

eventually, you ended up at a small plaza, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the cobblestone. it was late really late, but neither of you seemed to care.  

the energy between you had settled. still charged, but warmer now.  

‘so,’ he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, ‘are you gonna give me anything to work with here?’

‘what do you mean?’

‘like, a hint at least?’

‘for what?’

‘how to win your number,’ he said, exasperated.  

you laughed, tilting your head slightly. ‘hmm. i don’t know…’

he groaned. ‘you’re killing me.’

‘good.’

he stared at you for a second, then suddenly straightened.  

‘alright,’ he said. ‘i’ve got it.’

‘got what?’

‘the way i’m getting your number.’

you raised a brow. ‘oh?’

‘yeah,’ he said confidently. ‘gimme a second.’

before you could ask what he was doing, he pulled out his phone.  

you watched, confused, as he opened instagram, typed something, and handed it to you.  

his profile was already open.  

follow me.

you let out a short laugh. ‘wow. smooth.’

‘look, i could go old school and ask for your number directly,’ he said, grinning. ‘but i know you’d make me jump through five more hoops before you actually gave it to me.’

‘true,’ you admitted.  

‘so, this is my compromise.’ he nodded toward the screen. ‘follow me. then i’ll dm you. then you have to respond.’

you hummed, pretending to think about it.  

then, finally, you hit follow.

jude immediately took his phone back, typing something quickly.  

a second later, yours buzzed.  

new dm from judebellingham:

does this mean i win?

you grinned, typing back.  

hmm. undecided.

another message.  

fairs. i’ll keep working on it, then.

now, lying in bed, you scrolled back through the messages, rereading them even though you knew them by heart.  

it was stupid, really. how giddy this was making you.  

you told yourself it didn’t mean anything. that you were just enjoying the attention, that this was just harmless flirting.  

but then; 

another message.

judebellingham: you up?

your breath caught.  

it was so late. did he just get home, too? was he still thinking about tonight?  

you hesitated for a second.  

then,

maybe. why?

jude: just wondering if i was the only one still thinking about tonight.

your heart stopped.

you stared at the message for a long time, suddenly very aware of how fast your pulse was racing.  

he was good so good at this.  

and, worst of all, 

you had no idea what the hell you were going to do about it.

you weren’t answering.  

jude had sent the message almost fifteen minutes ago, and your reply still hadn’t come through.  

he wasn’t the type to overthink things—not usually. but something about this was different. something about you had thrown him completely off his game.  

he ran a hand through his hair, staring at the chat. maybe he shouldn’t have sent that last message. maybe it had been too much. too soon.  

but, fuck, he hadn’t been able to help himself.  

the night had ended, he had gone home, but his mind was still buzzing. still replaying everything, the teasing, the way your eyes had lit up when you laughed, the way you’d refused to make things easy for him.  

he had met plenty of people in madrid. plenty of girls who had flirted with him, who had been interested.  

but none of them had felt like this.

and that? that was messing with him.  

his phone buzzed.  

should i lie or tell the truth?

his heart kicked up, and suddenly, he felt stupid for even doubting that you’d respond.  

jude: always the truth

he watched the little typing bubble pop up, then disappear.  

then pop up again.  

then disappear.  

he smirked. you were hesitating. interesting.

finally;

then yeah. i’m thinking about it too.

the next morning, you woke up to another message.  

judebellingham: coffee later?

you stared at the words, your stomach flipping.  

it was a bad idea.  

you knew this.  

your life was too busy, your schedule too packed. you barely had time for yourself, let alone whatever the hell this thing with jude was becoming.  

not to mention, he was him.

jude bellingham, the biggest star in madrid. constantly surrounded by cameras, by attention.  

it was so easy to imagine how this would play out.  

a few fun conversations. some flirting. maybe even something more.  

and then?  

he’d get bored. move on.  

because that’s how these things went.  

so you should say no.  

you should.

but…

what time?

you almost backed out twice.

first, when you realized you had been standing in front of your closet for ten whole minutes, overthinking what to wear.  

it wasn’t a date. just coffee. casual. nothing serious.  

so why were you acting like it meant something?  

but then, 

you walked in.  

and jude was already there, waiting for you.  

the second he spotted you, his whole face lit up.  

‘thought you were gonna stand me up,’ he said, grinning.  

you rolled your eyes, slipping into the seat across from him. ‘tempting, but no.’

he smirked. ‘you were thinking about it, though.’

‘maybe.’

he leaned back slightly, still watching you with that look.

like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you.  

you ignored the way your pulse picked up, reaching for the menu.  

‘so,’ you said, acting casual, ‘are we actually getting coffee, or did you just want an excuse to see me again?’

his smirk deepened.  

‘bit of both, to be honest.’

you were so fucked.  

an hour passed. then another.  

coffee turned into brunch. brunch turned into you two still sitting there, talking like you hadn’t just met a few days ago.  

and that was the problem.

it should have been surface level. light, fun, meaningless.  

but then he was asking about your family, about your childhood.  

then he was telling you about birmingham, about moving away when he was just a kid.  

then he was making you laugh again, and it wasn’t just because he was funny; it was because he was genuinely interesting.

by the time the bill came, you realised,

you didn’t want to leave.  

which was exactly why you had to.  

you pulled out your wallet, but jude was already handing over his card.  

‘i got it,’ he said.  

‘i can pay for my own coffee, you know.’

‘yeah, but i invited you.’

‘i can still’

‘let me, yeah?’

you hesitated.  

he was looking at you again, and there was something in his expression that made it really hard to argue.  

so you just sighed. ‘fine.’

he grinned. ‘thank you.’

you rolled your eyes, standing up. ‘you’re annoying.’

‘and yet, here you are, still spending time with me.’

you shook your head, walking toward the door. he followed.  

‘so,’ he said, once you were outside. ‘when am i seeing you again?’

you exhaled slowly, staring at the ground.  

‘jude’

‘don’t do that,’ he said, suddenly serious.  

‘do what?’

‘shut me out before this even goes anywhere.’

your stomach twisted. ‘i’m not.’

‘you are.’

you bit your lip, glancing up at him.  

the easygoing smirk was gone. in its place was something softer, something real.  

‘i get it,’ he said. ‘you’re busy. you’ve got a life, your job, your own shit to deal with.’

he ran a hand through his curls, exhaling.  

‘but if you’re pulling back because you think this is just some game to me.’ he met your gaze. ‘it’s not.’

your heart stuttered.  

you wanted to believe him.  

‘we barely know each other,’ you pointed out.  

‘so let’s change that,’ he said simply.  

like it was that easy.  

and maybe, for him, it was.  

but for you?  

you had spent so long keeping people at a distance. protecting yourself from the inevitable disappointment of expecting too much.  

so why did part of you want to take the risk?  

‘just think about it,’ he murmured, stepping back. ‘yeah?’

you swallowed. nodded.  

he studied you for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else.  

then he turned, walking away.  

you stood there for a long time after he left, staring at the spot where he’d been.  

thinking about his words.  

thinking about how, for the first time in a long time.

you wanted to let someone in.

you were avoiding him.  

not entirely; you still answered his texts, still sent the occasional dry joke in response to his voice notes. but you weren’t making any effort beyond that.  

no more late night messages. no more lingering conversations. no more seeing him in person.  

and jude wasn’t stupid. he noticed.  

you’re dodging me. 

the message came in late one night, right as you were finishing up work.  

you stared at your phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard.  

he wasn’t wrong.  

but admitting that would mean confronting why.

so you typed something else instead.  

i’m busy.

a minute passed.  

then, 

jude: bullshit.

your stomach twisted.  

you sighed, shoving your phone in your pocket before you could answer.  

but it didn’t matter.  

because, for the rest of the night, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.  

the truth was, it was easier this way.  

the second you had walked away from that café, you had known, this thing with jude was dangerous.  

because you liked him.  

more than you should.  

and that was bad.

because, at the end of the day, he was still him.

jude bellingham, the football star. the golden boy.  

he was fun, charming, ridiculously attractive.  

but he was also someone with a whole life you didn’t belong in. a world of flashing cameras and public scrutiny, of schedules packed with travel and endless commitments.  

and you?  

you barely had time to breathe most days.  

you had your job, your responsibilities, your own life.  

it didn’t make sense to let yourself fall for him.  

so you had started pulling back.  

distancing yourself before you could get in too deep.  

before you could get hurt.

but clearly, he wasn’t going to let you do that quietly.  

the next time you saw him, it wasn’t planned.  

you were out with friends, trying to pretend like everything was normal, like your mind wasn’t elsewhere.

and then, 

there he was.  

across the bar, laughing with a group of people you didn’t recognize.  

your stomach flipped.  

and, just as quickly; his eyes found yours.  

you froze.  

he didn’t.  

his smile faded, and before you could even think about running, he was already moving toward you.  

‘hey,’ he said when he reached you.  

you swallowed. ‘hey.’

he studied you for a second, then nodded toward the door.  

‘let’s talk.’

you hesitated.  

‘jude.’

‘don’t.’ his voice was low, firm. ‘don’t make excuses. just come outside.’

you exhaled slowly.  

you could say no.  

you should say no.  

but you didn’t.  

outside, the air was cold, but the tension between you was colder.

you crossed your arms. ‘what do you want me to say?’

jude let out a short, humorless laugh.  

‘oh, i don’t know,’ he said. ‘maybe an actual explanation?’

‘i told you, i’ve been..’

‘busy. yeah. i got that.’

he shook his head, jaw tight.  

‘but we both know that’s not really the problem, is it?’

you looked away.  

‘you’re pushing me away,’ he continued, his voice quieter now. ‘and i don’t get it.’

your throat felt tight.  

‘i just…’ you exhaled. ‘i don’t think this is a good idea.’

he frowned. ‘why not?’

you hesitated.  

because you were scared.  

because you didn’t trust yourself with this.  

because you knew that if you let him in, you’d fall hard.

but saying any of that out loud felt impossible.  

so instead, you went for the easiest excuse.  

‘because i don’t have time for this.’

jude scoffed, running a hand through his curls.  

‘that’s such bullshit,’ he muttered.  

‘it’s not,’ you said, forcing your voice to stay even. ‘i barely have time for myself, jude. i can’t add this..’ you gestured between you, ‘whatever this is on top of everything else.’

his expression darkened.  

‘so what?’ he said. ‘you’re just gonna pretend like none of this ever happened? like that night meant nothing?’

your chest ached.  

‘it was fun,’ you said, voice hollow. ‘but that’s all it was.’

jude stared at you.  

and for the first time since you met him, he looked hurt 

you forced yourself to hold his gaze, to keep your expression neutral, even though every part of you was screaming at you to fix it.

but you couldn’t.  

this was for the best.  

finally, he nodded, stepping back.  

‘right,’ he said quietly. ‘got it.’

the space between you felt huge.

he glanced away, let out a slow exhale.  

then, without another word, he walked away. and you let him. but as you stood there, watching him disappear into the night, you wondered if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.  

the worst part wasn’t the fight.  

it was after.

the silence.  

the space where his texts used to be. the absence of his name lighting up your phone late at night. the realization that you had gotten used to having him around, in your inbox, in your thoughts, in you.

and now?  

nothing.  

days passed. you threw yourself into work, into school, into anything that would keep your mind from wandering back to him.  

but it didn’t matter.  

jude was everywhere.  

in the headlines, on tv, on the back of strangers’ jerseys in the street.  

in the playlist you hadn’t been able to listen to since that night.  

in the memories that crept in during quiet moments, the way he laughed, the warmth of his gaze, the way he looked at you like he actually saw you.

and worse, the last thing he had said.  

‘got it.’

so final. so done.

but then, 

friday night.

you weren’t supposed to go out.  

you had planned to stay in, avoid the possibility of running into him again.  

but your best friend had shown up at your apartment, refusing to take no for an answer.  

‘you’ve been moping,’ she said flatly. ‘it’s getting sad.’

you glared. ‘i am not..’

‘you are,’ she cut in. ‘and honestly? i can’t watch you wallow for another weekend.’

so now, here you were.  

back at the same bar where everything had started.  

part of you hoped he wouldn’t be there.  

part of you hoped he would.

and then, 

of course.  

he was.  

you spotted him across the room, surrounded by friends, smiling at something someone said.  

your heart clenched.  

god, you missed that smile.  

but then, his eyes lifted.  

found yours.  

and just like that, everything came rushing back.

the tension. the longing. the regret.

but you looked away first.  

because you didn’t know how to fix this.

and maybe he didn’t want you to.  

fifteen minutes later, you were at the bar, nursing a drink you didn’t really want, trying to not look for him in the crowd.  

so when someone stepped up beside you, you didn’t even glance over.  

‘we really gonna keep doing this?’

your breath caught.  

slowly, you turned.  

jude.  

closer than you expected.  

his eyes searched yours, something unreadable in his expression.  

‘look,’ you started, but he shook his head.  

‘no,’ he said. ‘my turn.’

you blinked.  

‘i don’t get you,’ he went on, voice low. ‘one minute, you’re there. with me. and the next, you’re gone.’

guilt twisted in your chest.  

‘i…’

‘i know you’re scared,’ he said, softer now. ‘i get it. i do.’

you looked away, but his fingers brushed your wrist, grounding you.  

‘but you don’t get to pull me in and then push me away like i don’t fucking matter,’ he said.  

your throat tightened.  

‘that’s not..’

‘it is,’ he said quietly. ‘that’s what it feels like.’

silence stretched between you.  

you swallowed hard. ‘i thought i was protecting myself.’

he exhaled, shaking his head. ‘from what me?’

‘from getting hurt,’ you whispered.  

‘and how’s that working out for you?’ he shot back. ‘because, newsflash, i’m hurt too.’ 

that stopped you.  

he let the words sink in, then sighed.  

‘look,’ he said, softer. ‘i don’t know what this is. i don’t know where it’s going.’

his gaze held yours. steady. certain.  

‘but i know i like you. i know i haven’t stopped thinking about you since we met.’

your breath hitched.  

‘and yeah,’ he added, ‘maybe it’s messy. maybe it’s complicated. but damn, i think it’s worth figuring out.’ 

your walls, carefully built, meticulously maintained, cracked.  

because fuck.

you wanted this.  

wanted him.

so you let out a shaky laugh, blinking back the sting in your eyes.  

‘you’re really bad at letting things go, huh?’

he smiled, a little broken, a little hopeful.  

‘not when it comes to you.’

that did it.  

you reached for him, and he met you halfway.  

pulling you in.  

warm, solid, familiar.

‘i’m scared,’ you admitted against his chest.  

‘yeah,’ he murmured into your hair. ‘me too.’

you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.  

‘but maybe,’ you said, ‘we figure it out anyway?’

his smile was soft. real.

‘yeah,’ he said. ‘i’d like that.’

and when he kissed you, 

it didn’t feel like an ending.  

it felt like finally.

if someone had told you a few months ago that you’d be here, lying on jude’s couch, your legs draped over his lap while a movie played in the background (completely ignored), you would’ve laughed.  

or panicked.  

probably both.  

but now?  

now it just felt right.

‘you’re not even watching,’ jude mumbled, poking your side.  

you glanced up from your phone. ‘neither are you.’

he smirked. ‘yeah, but i invited you over to watch it. not scroll through tiktoks.’

‘you didn’t invite me over for the movie.’ you shot back, raising a brow.  

he grinned. ‘fair enough.’

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.  

this was how it had been lately, easy. familiar. like you had slipped into some rhythm you didn’t even realize you’d wanted.  

the initial whirlwind of everything, the confusion, the push and pull, had settled.  

now there were lazy mornings when you stayed over, his hoodie swallowing you whole as you sipped coffee in his kitchen.  

there were texts throughout the day, some sweet, some stupid, all of them making you smile.  

there were nights like this, where nothing was planned and yet it was perfect.

‘hey.’ his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. ‘what’s going on in that head of yours?’

you shrugged. ‘just… thinking.’

‘dangerous,’ he teased, but there was a softness in his gaze.  

you hesitated, then admitted, ‘i didn’t think it’d be like this.’

his brow furrowed. ‘like what?’

‘easy,’ you said quietly. ‘i thought it’d be more… complicated.’

he tilted his head. ‘it was complicated. you made it complicated.’

‘hey.’ you swatted his arm, but he caught your hand, lacing his fingers through yours.  

‘but,’ he added, squeezing gently, ‘it’s not anymore.’

and that was the thing, you had stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. stopped holding yourself back.  

because he hadn’t left.  

hadn’t pulled away when things got hard. hadn’t treated you like some passing thing.  

he was here.

with you.  

choosing you.  

every single day.  

your chest warmed at the thought.  

‘what?’ jude asked, eyes narrowing playfully. ‘you’re looking at me like you’re about to say something sappy.’

you snorted. ‘don’t flatter yourself.’

he grinned. ‘too late.’

but then, quieter, he added, ‘you are happy, right?’

the vulnerability in his voice made your heart squeeze.  

so you shifted, leaning in until your forehead rested against his.  

‘yeah,’ you whispered. ‘i am.’

his smile softened. ‘good. ’cause i really, really, like you.’

you grinned. ‘yeah? i hadn’t noticed.’ 

he rolled his eyes but kissed you anyway, slow and unhurried.  

and in that moment, with his hand in yours and his lips against yours, you thought.

yeah. this was it.  

[windixie]

the way things go | frat boy! gojo x reader

🍎 pairing . academic rivals college au . frat boy! gojo x reader

summary . ever since you could remember, gojo was always significantly better than you in anything and everything. given that you have gone throughout grade school to high school, and to eventually college with him. competing through test scores and letter grades, you find yourself hating the white haired man even more. after your friend convinces you to let loose for once and enjoy a frat party, you wind up in the bed of none other than gojo. the bigger problem? you can't remember anything before that but he does. and he's not letting you go anytime soon.

warnings ⓘ 18+, fem! reader, enemies to lovers, academic rivals, smut, fluff, angst, gojo is really mean, sort of slow burn?

taglist . @littlxpxtal @hyori2 @aldebrana @hanakotateyama @byakuya61085

master list . link

playlist . any song rec that fits the aesthetic are always welcome !

wc : 957

authors note . this is probably going to be a rlly short part :p

ch. 2/ 🌱

you didn’t care if you were being dramatic — you wanted that damn apple cider. if I haven’t made it clear enough, you waited all day yesterday, and there was no way you were ever getting over the fact that asshole took away your baby.

“im not going!” you snapped as you stormed into your dorm scaring mari half to death, messing up her eyeliner, as you threw your bag onto the floor and desperately yanked off your red scarf throwing it carelessly without a second thought. “well who’s got your panties in a twist?” mari sneered as she went back to fixing the eyeliner on her right eye. “satoru gojo!” you shouted grabbing at your hair. “uh oh what’d he do this time?” mari asked casually as if this wasn’t a first, because well it wasn’t. she brought the eyeliner back to her eye to try again. “he took away the last apple cider! my apple cider. it’s like he knows exactly how to ruin my life!” you groaned collapsing onto your bed hugging your caterpillar stuffed animal — the one you won at the fair.

“well the apple cider stand is popular, you can’t exactly blame him for getting the last one” her words weren’t even out of her mouth when it clicked. you told him that you were heading to the fair. and you’re sure he knows how much you enjoy the beverage. “it is.” you sat up your thoughts racing. “uhuh.” mari said raising an eyebrow. “so you going or not”

you paused trying to reason for a moment. “no way, it’s all his fault” you grumbled laying back down throwing the caterpillar up in the air and catching it in your hands. “you’re throwing a fuss over something so small” mari looked over at you unimpressed. small? small? how dare she! “it’s not small!” you snapped your head to look at her. okay well maybe your reaction was too much. but it was apple cider for the love of god. “just come to the party, I’ve got a date tonight and if things go south, I need you there to keep me at my toes.” you supposed you could hold a grudge. the vendor would be there tomorrow anyways, you could get the cider then. “fine..”

that’s how you found yourself standing at the front of the frat house. already regretting your decision as you could smell the stench of sweat and alcohol from outside making you scrunch your nose up in disgust. mari chuckled at your reaction before dragging you inside. she somehow not only convinced you to come to the party, but she also forced you to wear one of her dresses. you were a bit upset on not being able to wear the skirt you purchased earlier but you figured it’d be best to wear it on a more special occasion. like thrifting. maybe you’d scare off any competition from snatching the good finds for sure. the second you stepped foot onto the building, the loud and vibrating music hit you like a period that was supposed to come in three days.

“jesus christ” you mumbled seeing all the people making out on the couch that you definitely did not want to sit on.

“hey you made it!” you heard a voice approaching. this must be mari’s date. he wasn’t bad looking, you thought. “ah suguru!” mari embraced him in a hug, which he returned before basically snatching her away from you.

“what the-“ your eyes widened. no no don’t leave me! you thought as you looked around like a timid deer on the road. you looked back at the direction in where the pair went off to, only to see that they were completely gone. you whined before making your way deeper into the party, your body rubbing upon others as you shimmied your way into what you believed was the kitchen. your pink mini dress rode up a bit exposing the cute lace panties you were wearing underneath. In embarrassment, you quickly pulled it down. thankfully no one seemed to notice.

no one but satoru.

you sighed in relief seeing refreshments on the table. and that’s how your night went. hidden away in the kitchen swallowing what you thought was kool aid. looking back now, maybe that wasn’t the brightest thought.

satoru just came back from shoving his cock down some girls throat which left him unsatisfied, before he noticed you. that’s a first. seeing you at a party when you were originally what he thought, the introverted nerd. he smirked seeing how stressed you looked before his eyes darkened taking sight at those pretty panties. he let out a low groan. such a sweetheart. wearing something like that to his party? it’s like you were blessing him.

in your now drunken state, you barely noticed satoru approaching.

“didn’t think you’d actually come, who invited you?” he asked leaning forward, his body taking over yours easily at the size difference.

your eye twitched as you pointed your finger at his chest. “you..! you took away my apple cider!” you slurred out making the boy in front of you chuckle.

“baby I already told you, I just happened to grab the last one. it’s not my fault you took so long to get there..” he grabbed your hand interlocking his fingers onto yours bringing you closer. “and it’s rude to point” he whispered into your ear.

you whined trying to pull away from the muscular white haired man. “I told you to stop calling me that ! am so upset you don’t even- mmph!” you were cut off as satorus lips smashed onto yours moaning into the kiss.

“you wanna be even more of a brat? I’ll fucking treat ya like one.”

authors closing note . sorry not much happened in this chapter but it will lead perfectly into the next one which will just be reader and gojo fucking ^^

[girldriveroscar]

"not that i even Go Here but u Kinda have to consider in the landolore of it all how he imprinted on Carlos and Danny in those late stage pubescent gay chicken trials.. like they made him feel small and Cute. GIRL AND NEITHER WERE EVEN THAT BIG but the energy of " you're the small one, you're the runt of the pack who we pick on" actually altered the chemistry in lando's brain."-- i think lando just has a bit of a competence kink and likes being the inexperienced one lol i think that's why when oscar won the sprint in 2023 he was the one who kept mentioning it, sure it hurt because his rookie teammate wasn't supposed to win anything before him, but i bet he was obsessed with the fact that oscar is good enough that he had the experience of winning in f1 before him. i also think this is part of the reason why he likes verstappen and is very genuine with his praise for the drivers 😃 i also think he likes that oscar is smarter than him 😶

THIS IS AN INTERESTING PERSPECTIVE! honestly I could totally understand this from the POV that his praise for others competence developed as a weird form of self assurance. like if max is so good,,,, and im against max then no matter the doubts in my head, the concrete fact remains that I'm performing at a high level and I deserve to be here. I think there's also an element of that comfort that's self sabotaging however, as rewarding himself the comfort of "good but not good enough" gives him this third space to relax from the outside pressure. similar to like... staying in a depressed spiral because its familiar and comfortable- even if it is miserable and you know its bad for you. its like accepting second place because answering the question of am I even capable of more? and finding that no, im not. would be soul crushing. now that's kinda dramatic I fully get that, and im not saying I don't think landos determined/confident I just personally see a pattern in his self criticism when he does start hammering on about other peoples skill or his lack thereof. when he starts getting all self hating/pitying its.... pretty obvious he's there for a minute before recouping. (ie. his post race side we saw on max's stream, his lack of selfies (whole other tangent on how his selfies are contingent on his race wins) and me too yk and me too. im not trying to like shame him LMAO I don't think he's weak, I think that's just like the objective truth that we saw last season and the reality of his ability to cope.

I think where that comfort gets flipped on its head is in comparison to Oscar. or if not specifically with Oscar, then with his teammate (or at the suggestion of a peer outperforming him under the same conditions). Does that Make sense? specifically it makes me think of lewis commenting, oh your car is fast, and him snapping back well you had a fast car once too. its the insinuation that when held to the same standard as another person, if his performance regardless of circumstance is not the extra 1% that keeps him ahead, then his self assurance crumbles and he suddenly needs to deflect/defend/get moody.

which leads into why I think it reaaaally ticks him off when Oscar performs better than him. he's not desperate with max and yet he planned to do it since Brazil with Oscar. say all you want about not caring abt sprint races but holding onto one swap to come back and make a point that you're emotionally and skillfully on par with your younger teammate... sure says something...

there enough plausible deniability for max to perform better regardless of personal skill. he's on a diff team, his environment is diff there's no certainty that its on performance alone that max wins, the sliver of separation there is what keeps him capable of praising max, esp when media rains down on him bc internally he's self justified to say yes max is good (but we aren't running in the same race). a compliment to max does not carry the weight of degradation to himself. but with Oscar.... with Oscar... the conditions are the same. and every gap stings extra because Oscar is younger and less experienced. annnnd as I said I think landos a bit toxic and he likes to press on his bruises for fun hence why he brings it up repeatedly- reopening the wound in a way that brings him immense guilty pleasure.

me pathologizing lando Norris's made up kinks right... right. tldr I think his prefrontal cortex brain hates Oscar doing well but his lizard brain enjoys it: performance wise Oscar puts him in his place (which people struggled to do all his life for rsn outside of his stature) its like Oscar saying. yes im better and not because im bigger its because im more talented than you. n that strokes the degrading part of him that wants to be belittled for something nobody else can take away from him. like for a guy who was Raised on the precedent of "small but mighty" yea anyone could call him small, but not everyone can make him actually feel small. when Oscar places above him, he feels small, and the submissive worm in his brain that enjoys squirming in self pity and pain lights up and rolls around.

[luvfae]

hiiii im in love with your blog i read everything u write >.< idk if ur taking reqs but i was wondering if you could write an x reader where her and thanos are basically mirrored. they’re known in their circles as “that couple” not saying the it couple because although theyre fine shyts theyre the type to break up bimonthly and have the highest of highs but the lowest of lows. sooo sooo toxic but they always find their ways back to each other 🫶🏽

BACK TO YOU

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader

warnings: barely any smut, but it’s still there. fingering, swearing, toxic relationship.

“Get the fuck out, Thanos.”

Your voice was raw, venom dripping from every syllable as you stood in the doorway, one hand clutching the edge like you needed it to stay upright.

Thanos stood in the center of your apartment, chest heaving, fists clenched. His face was flushed, a mixture of anger and whatever cheap liquor he’d drowned himself in before stumbling over here to start this fight.

“You don’t mean that,” he bit out, jaw so tight you swore you heard his teeth grind.

“Oh, I fucking do.” Your laughter was sharp, bitter, like glass in his ears. “Every single time, Thanos. Every fucking time. We do this, we scream at each other, I throw you out, you come crawling back, and guess what? I’m tired.”

His nostrils flared. “Don’t act like this is one-sided. You like this shit just as much as I do.”

You scoffed, folding your arms. “Yeah? And what’s that say about you?”

For a second, he didn’t speak. Didn’t move. His dark eyes dragged over you, as if committing this moment to memory. The way you stood, all fire and fury, pretending you weren’t one shove away from letting him back in.

Then he shook his head. “You always do this,” he muttered. “Act like you’re done, like you actually want me gone, but you’ll be back. You always come back.”

“Not this time.”

His lips curled. “Yeah? We’ll see, baby.”

And then he was gone.

The door slammed shut, rattling the walls.

You slid down to the floor, exhaling so sharply it felt like the breath had been knocked out of you.

Fucking bastard.

You hated how much you loved him.

It started two years ago.

A toxic, chaotic, beautiful fucking mess.

You were the queen of the nightlife, a club promoter who never had to wait in lines, never had to buy her own drinks, never had to lift a finger because the whole city knew your name. You ran the scene—decided which parties were hot, which DJs were worth booking, which clubs were worth stepping foot in.

Thanos was the king of the underground. A different kind of king, one who moved through the city’s underbelly like it was built for him. He was the guy people went to when they needed something that couldn’t be bought in stores. Drugs, money laundering, security—if it was illegal, Thanos had his hands in it.

You should’ve never crossed paths.

But you did.

And it was fucking electric.

The first time you met, it was a collision—both of you too headstrong, too cocky, too sure of yourselves to let the other have the upper hand.

The first time you fucked, it was the same thing. A battle, a war, neither of you willing to let the other walk away without losing something.

And when you fell for each other, you fell hard.

You were that couple. The ones people whispered about. The ones who burned too bright, too hot, always seconds away from imploding. You fought in public, you fucked in bathrooms, you broke up at least once a month and got back together just as fast.

And now?

Now you were supposed to be done.

Except you weren’t.

Because the next night, you walked into the club you were promoting, and there he was.

Thanos.

Sitting in a VIP booth like he fucking owned the place.

Your stomach twisted.

He looked good. Too good. Loose black button-up, sleeves rolled up, gold chains glinting under the dim lights, rings flashing as he lifted a drink to his lips.

And he was staring at you.

You knew you should turn around. Walk the other way. Pretend like last night had actually meant something, like this time you’d meant it when you said you were done.

But you didn’t.

You walked straight to him.

He smirked, setting his drink down. “Knew you’d come over.”

You rolled your eyes, stopping at the edge of the table. “What are you doing here, Thanos?”

“Waiting for you.” He leaned back, arms draping over the booth. “Miss me already?”

Your nails dug into your palm. “No.”

“Liar.”

You let out a sharp breath. “You should go.”

He tilted his head, watching you. “Nah, baby. I think you should come here.”

You scoffed, but your body betrayed you, moving before you could stop it.

Thanos’ hands were on you the second you were close enough. Big, warm, familiar. He pulled you between his legs, looking up at you with those dark fucking eyes, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Say you don’t want me,” he murmured, so quiet only you could hear.

You clenched your jaw. “I don’t want you.”

His grip tightened.

“Liar,” he whispered.

And then he was kissing you.

And you let him.

Because you were weak. Because you were addicted. Because he tasted like danger and home all at once.

His hands slid under your dress, fingertips skimming up your thighs, teasing, possessive.

“Thanos,” you warned, but it came out breathless, shaky.

“You miss me?” he murmured against your lips, fingers slipping higher.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No.”

But your body told a different story, pressing into him, heat pooling in your stomach.

Thanos chuckled, dark and low, and then—

His fingers slipped under your panties.

Your breath hitched, hands clutching his shoulders as he dragged them over your clit, lazy and slow.

Your knees nearly buckled.

“Apology accepted?” he teased, voice thick with amusement.

You whimpered.

His other hand slid up your back, pulling you closer, mouth brushing your ear. “You’re mine, baby,” he murmured, sliding a finger inside you. “You always have been.”

Your head dropped against his shoulder, body trembling.

And the worst part?

You knew he was right.

[ratatatastic]

"Did you get in trouble for taking the cup into the ocean?" "Yes. Yes." "Did Rodrigues? He took it in there too!" "Did he?" "Yeah!" "Well, I mean, I brought it under the water—looking back..." "What happened?" "You bring silver into the ocean, saltwater—no!" "Oh, I didn't know that." "I haven't slept! How am I supposed to know? Nobody told me the rules!" "You haven't slept!" "Yeah, but you're naughty—" "But hey! If I would've known about it... oh no, I still probably would've done it. Still probably would've done it!" "Dude, who cares! That thing has been abused all through the years!" "No, no! The cup guys understood, the cup keepers understood—they, you know, told me the rules after and I swear to God I didn't know before but, yeah. Great memories! Great pictures!

Cam & Strick Podcast | 8.27.24 (x)

oceangate evolves further the more we talk about it so if youd like to see the other previous developments in concerns to it...

and also because its funny here are some of the times the cup has been held near or above water both salt, fresh and chlorine alike since oceangate in no particular order

and i just think its very clear when oceangate happened because now everyones holding the cup high above the water/near bodies of water and not letting it get dunked

but pre-oceangate the cup was just dunked in maffhews pool hours after they won it (which was before they went to las olas and welp the rest is history)

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[sallymew4]

kids when they hear that their dad is back in town VS. kids when theyre hanging out with a conman that accidentally stole their wallet once

im not even joking btw

bonus heres me being crazy about them in dms ^^^

[raddestrose]

Bro Imma be for real, it didn’t click that Huaisang was the like THE guy, it took me like a few minutes

But forgive me for saying, he’s like totally innocent in my book

[meirimerens]

hello, meiri, i hope you can forgive me for possible being a freak in your ask box.

what do you think of threefold(possibly and a half)bullet as a romantic dynamic? i love the Shit Twins a lot, they are almost archetypally mythological to me and i've been fence-sitting about it for a while, so i'd like some outside perspective as you're one of my favourite people who does patho analysis. to get out of my ownhead or something.

i can see either of them with Daniil or Farkhad for different reasons, but also, like. they just web weaving to me with so many myths together, like the poet-muse type shit, something stereotypically femme-masc about the roles they fill (outdated, i know)

at the same time the talk of them being the same person (even if falling out of that eventually) has me like "yeah, they share everything basically"

i am just. over here. thinking and probably reading into it too much or not enough at all. so i'd like a second perspective. three(+half)fold bullet polycule yay or nay /j because i don't really know how to word the Vibes i am talking about.

taps sign

I don't consider Daniil/Peter or Daniil/Andrey as romantic and/or sexual. I never have. this is not a secret for anyone. plenty of my Fellow Scholars and people whose written and painted works I admire do, and i fw it heavy for them I do, I see and understand the appeal, I see it with my eyerballs, but I don't consider it for myself and my own lore. these relationships as romantic/sexual are not something I take into account in my own lore because I don't see it. I thought that would be obvious considering this is gonna be my 4th year writing and drawing pathologic fanworks and I've never drawn or written anything about peterdaniil or dandrey. like by that time you'd think I'd have written or drawn something if I saw it that way. but I don't. so I haven't. and won't.

the phrase "something stereotypically femme-masc about the roles they fill" perplexes me. I am going to type what I type next with the acknowledgment that you said yourself that I am "one of [your] favorite people who does patho analysis". I hear it, I am very thankful for it, I appreciate you being here, and I hope you will hear me out. I also apologize if my tone sounds a bit dry or harsh, I have a pounding headache and it's making it hard for me to be a human person currently. here goes: it is not that I don't see where you're coming from, indeed I do, and I am disappointed in it. perhaps less disappointed in you for thinking it, because if I started being disappointed in strangers for having headcanons based on some kind of discrimination or prejudice I'd spend my days suffering, and this is not something I can control nor have any interest to have control over, but maybe more disappointed that you thought I was someone who would entertain it or agree. this feels like you managed to project out sexism (misogyny actually. why am i mincing words lol) on something that is not sexist/misogynistic. which is a feat because patho is misogynistic enough as it is.

both of them, in my lore, my own lore, which I made up myself, were attracted to Farkhad. this is something I've written about at length in my two oneirotects fics, even though it's more salient in ASEFSW. most of my farkhad art which involves the twins involves an undercurrent of Fear of the Erotic[ized] Other, a fear of consumption through sex or love (an obvious projection of the twins and a rationalization of their murder). this is again something I've discussed to at length in my threeandahalffold & fourfold & oneirotects tags. desire was one of the reasons farkhad had to die: he fell prey to the twins' "convince-consume-kill" modus operanti. I have nothing to add on this.

TLDR: no. because I don't see peter/daniil or andrey/daniil as romantic and/or sexual, I never have, it's been 3 years, it's gonna be 4. a relationship with Farkhad would have been unsustainable because he was a threat to them. eroticized, idealized, feared, adored, killed and eaten. but a threat to them nonetheless. you're gonna have to go back into your own head and make up a lore for yourself like a big boy because I do not see romantic or sexual bonds between the members of the threefold bullet, I never have, it's been 3 years, it's gonna be 4, so i am of no help. farkhad is dead. he doesn't stay it. what pursues them is not desire.

[icharchivist]

the artbook saying they planned on having Cole in da4 to give a compassionate voice wanting to help Solas navigate through his pain and supporting him in front of Rook and the companions, only for the final product to literally just be "bashing Solas hours because he's such a loser for always being alone and he's to blame for literally everything (rightfully so or not)" just fills me with an intense sorrow i will never recover from.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

i was rereading the story dialog for the sephirah while ago (upper layer so far considering i have a doc to contain all of my ramblings and thoughts once looking it over and getting actual lines to be able to know exactly what was said to base my feelings off of rather than the pure unfiltered pain or i suppose somewhat shock at first and those garbled memories of what happened) and after reading tiphereth's and then going to netzach's again it's just.

imagine you have to see what is deemed your other half, the person keeping you sane, your only companion you actually love and like, your literal ‘twin’ have to get crushed but some bum that never does his job and can easily be seen as 'not meeting standards' does get the same treatment at all when your own brother had been destroyed for less like spiraling into some dangerous stains of thoughts (thought be fair he did end up not as respondent and at that point already had what i'll inadequately describe as 'memory leakage' . But from the general idea of the side of tiphereth). he'll be more better than that drug addict ever will be in her eyes, someone who can't even do a report on time and even then is half assed to where at that point they'd just do it themself in the first place. he'll be way better, someone who is quite literally her family. yet why is her brother the only one that needs to suffer through that constant degradation of the soul? the constant wiping of the self? the memories made and lost? why the hell is someone that should deserve it in her eyes, someone so unmotivated and lazy, someone who she deems as a person not able to do a single thing right, not having that happen to them? why is it the person she loves so dearly, so close to her that she wishes would've stayed instead of some now hollow husk and imitation of imprinted memories when that hasn't happened to Any One Else? why does she have to go through all of that, having to see someone that she used to know and adore turn into a hollow husk and imitation of what once was - having to feel as if shes already looking at a walking corpse with memories shoved inside - just for someone like Netzach to not end up crushed to pieces.

[cherry-bomb-ships]

I've started watching PPGZ... It's a very fun show 💖

Mojo is rly different but I do love his design a whole lot (like a LOT) and I enjoy that he's kind of a petty asshole and very VERY silly, plus he has this silly ass dialogue quirk where he punctuates sentences with his name (I'm watching the sub cuz fuck that dub) and weaker men would probably find it annoying but I think its cute 💖 Also I didn't know he had a SMALL FORM?!?!?! LIKE THE BIG CAPED THING IS NOT HIS TRUE FORM IDK HOW IT WORKS BUT LIKE WOW 💖 But yeah even if it doesn't rly feel like the same character (of course lol).... I still rly like him hehe 💖

[soap-is-an-artist]

Hooray... it's 7 in the morning and I stayed up all night listening to the imperium... I feel so happy and satisfied with my life choices...

I am feeling very much not cowabunga, dude

[SEVERE rambling in tags]

[jrueships]

WHOEVER THE FUCK IS RECOMMENDING MED PPL TO GO INTO RADIOLOGY JUST CUS IF THE MONEY, IM GONNA FUCKING gET YOU

[odysseys-blood]

shout out to all of us who relate heavily to stolas for being baby faced and short