#you can really tell which one I started with and which one I ended with

[menagerofmischief]

pretty with piercings -> ln4

wc: 1.7k tags: piercer!lando, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, piercing body parts, the long awaited sequel part one | part two | part three

You stood in front of the tattoo shop nervously, glancing towards the door every few moments while you debated going inside. 

After the first night of meeting him and getting your nipples pierced, you and Lando had stayed in touch … kinda. Some flirty texts, naughty pictures, a few late night phone calls with very nice endings and so on. 

But you hadn’t actually seen him in person since that night and now, standing in front of his shop, it was nerve wracking. You looked down at your phone, eyes moving from the large numbers displaying the time onto the text notification.

Gerry: Don’t chicken out! Gerry: I’m serious Y/n Gerry: Go get it with the sexy piercer

You laughed a little at the texts, nerves easing up a bit and decided to go inside before you could hesitate and change your mind, again. Walking into the shop it was like all the memories from that night came rushing back.

You looked around, eyes settling onto the counter. There was a man with his back turned to you and you walked up to the counter, expecting it to be Lando. “Hi,” you said, trying not to let the nervousness sip into your voice.

“Hello!” The man turned around with a smile, and it was not Lando. But you did recognize him as one of the guys who was with him that night at the bar. “I’m Max,” he said. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Lando,” you said, the confusion clear as day in your tone, making Max chuckle.

“Are you looking for him for business, or… something else?” Max asked, a teasing glint in his eyes and a chuckle slipping past his lips when you blushed.

“Business,” you choked out. “A piercing.”

Max nodded along but there was still a smirk on his face which made it clear he didn’t really believe you. “Really!” You said, starting to get defensive under his stare.

“I believe you,” he said, lifting his hands up in mock surrender. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Oh,” you breathed out, grimacing. You hadn’t really thought about that, but you probably should have. In fact, people almost always made appointments for getting tattoos and piercings done in studios. But you were so excited with the idea of surprising Lando you hadn’t really thought about it.

“Is there a chance he takes walk ins?” You asked.

“I’ll check,” Max told you, flashing you a smile before disappearing into a different room. “Hey Lan!” He called out, approaching Lando who was putting finishing touches on a client's tattoo.

“Oh, hey Max,” Lando replied, briefly glancing up from his work. “You need something? I was gonna finish this up and go.”

“Should I tell Y/n to come back some other day, then?” Max asked, his voice full of amusement. 

“What!” Lando asked, his voice raising a pitch in volume as his head snapped towards his friend. “What do you mean Y/n? She’s here?” 

“Oh she’s here.”

“Are you sure it’s her?”

Max rolled his eyes at that. “Lando, you talk about her so much that even my grandma would recognize her.” He crossed his arms. “She’s here for a piercing, forgot to ask which one. Doesn’t have an appointment, hoping you’ll take a walk in. But if you were gonna head home after this I can -”

“No!” Lando cut him off, sending him a sharp glare before returning his attention to wrapping the tattoo. “I’ll take her, I don’t have anything to do anyways.”

Max grinned at him, already planning all the ways he was gonna tease him about this later. “I’ll tell her to head in then.” He looked at the tattoo client who was already getting up, nodding his head in satisfaction with the work. “Come on then, Harry, I’ll crack you a bear and we’ll get far away from this nasty muppet.”

It was a few minutes later that you walked into the room, Lando’s eyes instantly glued to you. “Hi there, princess.” He purred, watching you smile in return. 

Lando approached you like a predator approaches prey, soft and slow with a look of deadly calculation in his eyes. “Max tells me you want a piercing. These not enough for you?” His hands move forward to cup your boobs over the thin shirt you’re wearing, the imprint of the piercing even more visible due to your lack of bra. 

Lando’s large hands grope your tits, squeezing hard before his fingers pinch your nipples over your shirt, twisting the piercings with precision, making you gasp out his name as your body shudders. 

You arch your back, pushing your chest further into his hands but Lando removes them and steps back with a smirk on his face. “What piercing are you thinking?”

Now it’s your turn to smirk at him. With a surge of confidence you didn’t expect, you walk over to the leather chair and unbutton your jeans, pushing them down your legs along with your panties. 

Behind you, you hear a low groan coming from Lando. You position yourself on the chair, eyes locked on Lando’s and spread your legs invitingly. 

A moment of silence passes before Lando moves forward and approaches you, one of his hands gripping your tight. “You gotta say it, princess.”

“I want,” you swallow, blood rushing to your cheeks as the previous confidence starts to wear off under his intense stare. “A clit piercing.”

He chuckles, his other hand moving to cup your pussy, thumb flicking your clit and making you whine. “A clit piercing,” he repeats, drawing lazy circles on your clit with his fingers. “Or a clitoral hood piercing?”

His eyes gaze into yours while you ponder on your reply. “Clitoral hood,” you tell him, thinking back on all the research you had done before coming here. 

Lando hums, retracting his hand and you have to fight the urge to groan from the loss of stimulation. He’s gone for a few moments before he returns with everything necessary. Lando places the tray next to you before he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands spreading your legs.

“What are you -”

You don’t even get to finish before his reply comes. “Just getting a better view, princess.” You can practically feel him looking at your pussy, his eyes focused. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you find yourself following the movement.

Lando leans forward, his lips closing around your clit and you moan at the unexpected stimulation, hands immediately shooting out to grab his hair. You don’t even think about what you’re doing as you attempt to push his head deeper, chasing pleasure.

His tongue flicks your clit a few times and then you feel his teeth lightly closing around it, giving it a small nip before he detaches himself, much to your dismay. Lando chuckles at your whine. “Business first, pretty girl.” He tells you, reaching for the needle on the tray. “And then if you’re good, I’ll reward you.”

You think it’s impossible for your cheeks to blush more but then do, and you fight the urge to squeeze your legs together for some kind of friction. “Okay,” you murmur, your breath shaky.

It hurts about as much as you expected it to, gritting your teeth and letting out a little hiss of pain before it’s done, over as fast as it started and Lando, still on his knees, is inserting and adjusting the piercing. 

He drops the needle back into the metal tray, the sound of it falling ringing through the room. Lando gazes at your cunt with perfect focus, his eyes locked onto the new piece of jewelry decorating you. 

“Good,” he says. He’s so close you can feel his breath ghosting over your sensitive clit before he leans his head forward to press a gentle kiss to it. “You were so good, princess,” his voice is practically a purr. “Such a good girl.”

A gasp slips past your lips as he kisses along your thighs. He buries his head between your legs, wasting no time as his tongue pushes into your wet hole. You moan, cupping the back of his head with your hands. 

“I’ll take it,” you manage to gasp out, overwhelmed with the sensation he’s providing. “I earned my reward then.”

Lando lifted his head up to meet your eyes, an amused smirk displayed on his lips. “You sure did, princess. Now lay back and enjoy it.”

“Oh fuck, Lan!” You moaned, body arching forward as his fingers slipped inside of you.

Doing piercings and tattoos clearly wasn’t the only thing Lando was good at with his hands. With every thrust of his fingers he curled them upward, pressing against your most sensitive spots. 

He stood up, not slowing his movements and leaned forward, lips pressing against your own in a desperate messy kiss. Meanwhile his other hand went to grope at your tits, fingers pinching and twisting your nipple piercings as he worked to bring you to the brink of pleasure.

With how dedicated he was to giving you pleasure, it didn’t take long to feel the familiar heat pooling in your stomach. You came with a moan, muffled my Lando mouth on yours, and your hips thrusting upwards to meet his fingers as your back arched. 

Lando pulled away, breathless and flushed, his lips swollen. “Fuck, you’re amazing.” He told you, the lustful look in his eyes replaced by something softer, more genuine. 

“That’s all you, Lando.” You replied with a small giggle, catching your breath. You worked to put on your panties and jeans while Lando explained the healing process and how to take care of the piercing. When he finally stopped rambling, you spoke up. “How much do I owe you for this one?”

“Nothing.”

“Lando,” you glared at him. “I want to, please.”

“How about you let me take you to dinner instead, consider it my payment.” He asked, looking so vulnerable your heart clenched. 

“I suppose I can agree to that,” you told him and he instantly smiled at you.

“Come on then,” he grabbed your hand. “I’m sure Max hasn’t emptied out all the beers. You want one?”

You smiled back at him, “Sure, why the hell not.”

feed my need for validation and let me know if you all enjoyed this one, likes and reblogs are also greatly appreciated

[starfieldcanvas]

reminds me of an argument i had in high school trying to explain that the expression was "play it by ear"—meaning "figure it out as it's happening, rather than plan ahead", like a musician listening to a song for the first time and playing an accompaniment spontaneously without sheet music—not "play it by year."

my best friend at the time insisted that it had to be "play it by year" because it was an expression about future plans and scheduling, not music, so "year" made more sense because it was a time measurement; she had some idea in her head about "let's keep our plans vague and figure it out later" matching well with a long-term time unit like "year", like, let's not figure out our schedule to the minute, let's take the long view and play it by year!

which, that is a very creative and interesting retroactive justification for a misheard expression ("it's a moo point—it's like a cow's opinion, it doesn't matter!") but what she thought was her strongest argument was that her mother said "year" instead of "ear," and her mother had gone to Yale, and did I really think someone who had studied English at Yale would be wrong about something like this?

i had to give up the point because another girl in our group was agreeing with her and this was before teenagers had smartphones so we couldn't just look it up on the quad. one of those silly things you remember for far too long because you know you're 100% right and nobody believes you.

---

longtime followers of mine may recall that i myself have a pet peeve misheard expression. this one is a real headache because the misheard version is far more popular than the original.

misheard version: "if you think [x], you've got another thing coming."

original version: "if you think [x], you've got another think coming."

because "coming" starts with a k sound, the k at the end of think blends into the c of coming and all you hear is the "iihnng" at the end of "think" that can be easily mistaken for "thing."

but the misheard "thing" version caught on decades and decades ago, to the point that you'll see it regularly in published media, and therefore never have any reason to question the "thing" version, even though it's much duller than the original.

"you've got another think coming" is an excellent folksy way to say "think again!" or, more specifically, "you'll be forced to think again because of what I'm going to do." even if you're only familiar with the "thing" version, you can recognize the logical progression of the original: the first think in the beginning of the phrase leads to another think in the second part.

"you've got another thing coming" seems to be interpreted by most people as a direct threat: the people I've asked tell me they imagine the "thing" in question is a fist or a beating (if they think it refers to anything at all—some people just interpret it as a meaningless filler word.) if you assume the "thing" is a direct threat, it narrows the utility of the expression quite a bit. after all, you can say "you've got another think coming" to mean "I'm going to prove your assumption wrong" in whatever way makes the most sense in context, while still benefitting from the repetition of "think x? think again!"

by contrast, while "thing" can technically be whatever you want it to be (e.g. "if he thinks he's going to win this game, he's got another thing [a defeat] coming", "if she thinks she's going to get away with fraud, she's got another thing [a lawsuit] coming") it still needs to be in the form of A Thing. So it wouldn't quite sound right in, for example, "if Great-Aunt Edna thinks I'm coming to visit, she's got another thing coming." You're not going to beat up your Great-Aunt Edna, and "me not coming to visit" isn't really a "thing" in the way the expression needs it to be to work. You could maybe say the thing Great-Aunt Edna has coming is "disappointment," but you'll be much better served by the original expression.

this has been a public service announcement to rescue "you've got another think coming" from the dustbin of history.

[sheeezu]

Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

This isn't the normal "oh you'll feel on top the world" kind of post which just hypes up everything and the sole purpose is to motivate. This is (???) the logistics, the indepth version of what you'll face psychologically.

I've shifted close to about a hundred times, whether it was from this reality, or shifting within a reality I shifted.

This is all from my personal experience, you might experience differently.

⋆ Disassociation: when you shift back to your original reality, you'll often times confuse both reality's memory, of course, we all know this, doesn't matter if you shifted or not. But what I've seen no one talk about is that sometimes events and certain objects from your DR will unintentionally manifest into your CR, just because of how deeply rooted they become in your subconscious. For example, I had maybe mentioned this somewhere else, but in my DR I had scripted expensive china cups, which broke on my second day being there. Well two weeks ago my family was gifted the same teacups (some details were off) and one of them managed to get a crack in them after we served the guests tea in it.

⋆ Weird Dreams: Not only is the concept of the dreams weird, but overall mechanics of it are unusual as well (I didn't shift unconsciously in my dreams, that's one boundary I've established)

For example, dreams with people claiming to know the future, telling me, and it coming true the next day, but it being minor details, people from my DRs channeling me, dreams which involves falling out of reality/finding the end of the multiverse.

Dreams which involves me floating, strong winds which blow away entirely of the void reality (CR), I had started getting this dream since I've wanted to permashift, the wind is so strong and I feel it, I'm usually at my college and or doing a mundane activity in my current reality, everything dissapears and I end up in the void state for the rest of the night.

Once my S/O visited me in my dream, he asked me to come back home, it was a lucid dream so I consciously agreed because I couldn't deny him; ended up in my home reality.

⋆ Feeling weirdly sad about your CR: this one might be personal to me. truth be told, I haven't studied a single day since I've successfully shifted. This year all of my classmates and age fellows are going to start looking at university applications, the ones they mention are usually universities I used to dream all day long about getting into, when I didn't know about shifting. It forms a pit in my heart, the passion I once used to have regarding hardwork by investing blood sweat tears into studying, pinterest board filled with quotes such as "some dreams are worth more than my sleep" not stirring anything within me. It's not that I think I can't get these things, i know i can just shift to a parallel reality and get it, but I just don't want to, I don't feel the same about this reality anymore, slowly letting it go, no matter how much I try to cling onto it, I know I was never meant to be here.

⋆ Personality changes: When you become an expert at shifting its no question that you'd shift very frequently. Those DR selfs would influence your personality, and people can think you're developing a split personality disorder.

Take me as an example, if you look at the posts on my blog, you'd notice a different tone in each one of them, some are in a more softer tone and the others feel clinical.

⋆ Putting your DR family first, even though they're not here: I don't know how to explain this one, so I'd just take an example out of my own experience again.

I was out shopping with my mother for sweaters, the ones we were coming across were really good quality, but I could only think of my S/O, she was pointing out the things she thought I'd like, but I kept looking at the men's sweater, subconsciously trying to pick one out for him, which weirded my mother out slightly.

...

Why am I crying.

Anyways I have planned to permashift out of this reality before new year, it was my childhood dream to blog, but I was too shy to do so and never had anything common with anyone. But I've finally completed the final thing on my list, alongside with meeting my cousin who I adored, I decided to add her to my DR.

That's it, I'll go on and answer the 50 asks in my inbox.

...

[croissantsandblackcoffee]

luigi mangione ⊹ foundering

— luigi’s next courting hearing is on january 18th, but there won’t be any pictures of him until the one later on february 21st. i hope he’s doing well :( i posted this earlier than planned bc i hate having work sitting in my drafts for too long lmao

previous parts: 01, 02, 03

a month later.

the past month has been a rollercoaster for the both of you. the uncertainty and the stress has been getting to you. the constant back and forth in your head, the worry of overthinking and second guessing your every decision.

the prison staff has been a bit nicer, allowing luigi to spend more time with you. however, the guards are always around, watching like vultures.

it’s like they’re almost waiting for him to slip up. for him to do something, anything that would be against the rules. they’re like hawks, and they won’t hesitate to punish him if he steps out of line.

the other prisoners are also watching him from time to time, but not for the same reason. they care for him, luigi tells you.

he’s popular in the prison block, respected by the other inmates. he gets along with almost everyone; he’s well liked and people will go to him if they have any problems.

the other prisoners don’t mind that he’s getting preferential treatment, though. they’re just happy that he has someone to visit him, happy that he’s able to interact outside the prison.

the past month has also been a lot of talking. long, serious conversations between you and luigi. both of you trying to figure things out, to sort out your thoughts and feelings. trying to weigh things up; pros and cons, risks and consequences.

you’d talk for hours, sitting across from each other through the glass.

sometimes you’d get interrupted by a guard, telling luigi that his time was up. to which he would protest, saying that he wasn’t finished talking. other times, his time would be cut short, forcing the two of you to end your conversation prematurely.

but a lot of the time, he’d still have a lot of time left. plenty of time to talk, to keep going, to keep trying to comfort each other.

you’d talk about everything. about your thoughts, feelings, worries. you’d talk about the future, about what the best decision was.

you’d talk about what could happen, all the possible scenarios. if you hadn’t decided to keep the baby. if you chose not to, how would it affect you, luigi, the people around you?

and now that you had, how would it affect your life. would you be able to cope? could you really raise a child.

could you handle it? could he?

a lot of the time, you’d end up crying. it would always start with either a small teary eye and a wobbly lip, that would then progress to a shaking lip and shaky breath. then your eyes would tear up, your breathing quickening, and your nose would start to run. then your breath would get heavier, and a few tears would roll down your face.

then it would progress into a full on sobbing, shaking crying fit. and each every time, it would break luigi’s heart.

he’d always talk soothingly, his voice low and steady, as he tried to calm you down. telling you that everything would be okay, that you’d get through it. telling you to breathe, to take deep breaths.

every time, you’d manage to calm down, get yourself back under control. but the conversation would be cut short as a guard would walk to tell luigi his time was up.

and he’d fight back, begging them to give him just a little longer.

but they would always tell him the same thing, in that cold, emotionless tone. “no,” they’d say, crossing their arms. “time is up. she can come back tomorrow if she wants to talk to you again.”

and luigi would sit there and watch helplessly as you were ushered out of the room. he’d watch as you looked back at him one last time, waving as the door closed in front of you.

that was usually the end of it, until tomorrow. and he’d go back to the cell block, and have nothing to keep his mind off the situation as he laid down in his bed. he’d think about you, about the conversation, replaying it over and over again in his head.

then he’d start thinking about the other scenarios again, starting back the whole endless cycle of overthinking. he’d toss and turn throughout the night, never getting a good, restful sleep.

the next day would roll around, and he’d get up. wash up, get changed. have breakfast with the other prisoners. get his daily dose of exercise.

his mind would be racing the entire time, never taking a break from the constant stream of overthinking.

and then the clock would finally hit visiting hours, and he’d be getting led out to the visiting room again. his mind would start to calm down slightly, finally being able to see you again.

then he’d get to the visiting room. sometimes they’d make him wait, for reasons that they wouldn’t disclose. he’d sit there impatiently, tapping his fingers on the floor, tapping his foot, looking around the room. he’d count the minutes as they ticked by, the seconds.

every minute that passed without you being brought in felt like an eternity to him. it was almost as if time became slower, every passing minute dragging by.

then finally, you’d be brought in as well.

and every time, he’d immediately feel a wave of relief wash over him. the constant overthinking in his brain would quiet down, and he’d be able to relax a little bit. you were there. you were with him. he would no longer be alone with just his own thoughts.

but he doesn’t have to tell you that. instead, he sits down across from you, picking up the phone and holding it up to his ear.

he smiles as he does so, trying to stay casual and composed. on the inside, though, he’s feeling happy, relieved. after being alone in silence all day, he feels like he can finally breathe again. seeing you, being able to talk to you, and having you right in front of him.

“hey,” he says into the phone, keeping his tone light. he watches you through the glass, studying you quietly.

he studies you, looking at your facial expressions, listening carefully to your voice. your body language. anything that might give away how you’re feeling right now.

he can tell, from the expression on your face, that you look a little bit more tired. your eyes look sunken in slightly, darker than the last time he saw you. be picks up on the fact that maybe you haven’t been sleeping either.

you open your mouth to speak, “luigi, i…” but you can’t seem to get the words out. you’re not looking him in the eyes.

he sees you struggling to speak, and that gets his attention. he notices that you’re struggling to look him in the eyes, avoiding his gaze. ge frowns, sitting forward in his chair.

“sweetheart?” he prompts gently. “what is it?”

he’s starting to get worried now, and his heart picks up a little bit. the way that you’re avoiding his gaze is off putting, and his frown deepens.

he leans a bit closer, his heart rate increasing slightly. “sweetheart,” he says again. “talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

he can feel anxiety building up inside him, his heart rate increasing even more. is something wrong? has something bad happened?

he leans even closer now, staring at you intently. “sweetheart, please.” he says, his voice soft but almost desperate. “say something, please. you’re making me nervous.”

your breathing is heavier than usual, and it’s not like you had to walk up an entire flight of stairs before getting here. you know you have to tell him sooner or later, before it eats you from inside—

“i lost the baby.”

he doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to accept it.

he swallows again, shaking his head slightly. his hands are curled into fists, shaking ever so slightly. he’s still just trying to process it all. it doesn’t feel real.

he opens his mouth again, and this time manages to say a word. “when?”

“yesterday morning,” you answer, avoiding his gaze, “right before i had to leave for work. it’s been killing me ever since.”

he listens to you speak and closes his eyes, letting the information sink in. he takes a deep, shaky breath.

the day before. you had lost the baby the day before you came to visit him. you had come here, talked to him, and the whole time, you had lost the baby already.

and you never said a thing.

he feels a wave of anger wash over him, but he tries his best to push it down. you’re not at fault for miscarrying. but not telling him, and waiting until now? for a second, he feels betrayed.

he opens his eyes and looks at you, staring you down almost coldly. “you should’ve told me yesterday.”

there’s a harsh, bitter tone to his voice. he doesn’t want to take it out on you, he knows it’s not your fault, but he can’t help himself.

“you came here and talked to me, and the whole time you were keeping this from me? why didn’t you say anything?”

“… i’m sorry.” that’s all you say. you’re feeling a mix of emotions — shame (towards yourself), embarrassment, guilt, sadness, grief. it’s hard for him to read your expression, but you’re not letting him do that at all. you drop the telephone, burying your face in your hands.

he tries to read you, he tries to figure out what you’re thinking, but he can’t see your face. you’ve covered it with your hands, so all he can see is the top of your head. he sits back, staring at you.

he wants to respond, to say something, but he can’t. that wave of anger has been snuffed out by the sight of you, hiding your face with your hands. now he just feels guilty for snapping at you.

for a few moments, he just sits there. watching you.

his eyes are fixed on you, watching as you sit there with your head in your hands. he can’t see your face, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re crying.

the realization suddenly hits him like a truck; here you were, telling him you had lost the baby just now. and you’d been sitting on that information for a whole day.

you’d come here, and sat here for an entire conversation not telling him, while you were hurting.

he feels a rush of guilt and anger again, a sense of betrayal. but he pushes it down. he swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady.

“… how long were you planning on not telling me?” He asks, his eyes on you, his voice quieter now. the anger is less intense. more hurt and betrayal. “were you ever gonna tell me?”

his heart is pounding again now. he sits forward in his seat, clenching his hand into a fist in his lap.

“what— what were you thinking?” he asks, still keeping his voice soft. “you come here, you talk to me for hours, and you don’t say anything? why? why did you do that, sweetheart?”

his voice breaks slightly on the pet name.

he feels like he wants to break down right along with you, the emotion of the situation hitting him like a freight train. but he pushes that down, keeping it in. He can’t break down, he has to stay calm.

he doesn’t know what to feel. anger at you for not telling him, guilt for snapping, grief at what has happened. it’s a mix of everything.

he’s staring right in your eyes. “come on, look at me.”

“i…” you struggle to find your voice in all of this. why did you hesitate to tell him? he’s the only person who knew you were pregnant, and you didn’t tell him a thing.

“… fuck, it was hard for me to tell you. i was planning on contacting karen to tell you. you think it’s easy for me to show up here and tell you this while i promised you a life if you’ll ever get out of here?”

luigi almost looks wounded by that part. he swallows hard, frowning deeply. you promised me.

that promise plays in his head like a record, the same memory on loop. he lets out a harsh exhale, his heart sinking. he knows you meant it, that you’d meant every word.

and yet you were struggling to tell him this.

he swallows again, trying to push down the hurt. “so you thought it would be easier to let my lawyer tell me?”

the idea of that is infuriating. he’d been sitting here, worrying about you, worrying about what you were thinking and how you were feeling, and you’d been planning on letting his lawyer tell him.

he can’t help the cold tone to his voice. “is that your idea of keeping a promise?”

he looks down for a moment, shaking his head. when he looks back up, his expression is intense, his eyes almost pleading.

“you should have told me yesterday,” he says, his voice almost desperate. “i don’t care if it would have been hard, i don’t care if it would have hurt to tell me. you should have told me, no matter what.”

there’s a sense of desperation to his voice, a sense of hurt. part of him wants to snap again, to lash out at you for not telling him, for going with his lawyer.

“you don’t get to break that promise and then say it was too hard for you to tell me,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “you made that promise, sweetheart. you made it and then you want to let my lawyer take care of it for you.”

he’s never felt so frustrated before, so hurt. the idea of karen telling him, when he’d been worrying about it this whole time, when he’d wanted so badly to ask you if you were okay.

he leans forward again, getting as close to the glass as he can. “you don’t get to do that. you don’t get to take back that promise because it was hard to tell me.”

“i’m sorry, alright?” you apologize once again, rubbing your forehead with one hand while the other had a tight grip on the phone, “i’m a shitty person for not telling you about the baby, and for your wanting to break the news to your lawyer, not you.”

he can’t help but feel a little bit hurt by that, but he shakes it off, trying to push down the feeling. he lets out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head.

“i’m not saying that,” he says, his voice softer now. “you’re not shitty, alright? you’re not shitty, you understand?”

he takes a deep breath, his fingers tapping on the countertop. “but you can’t just break a promise and then think that karen’s going to fix it for you.”

“fine, okay, i acknowledge my mistake.” you fidget in your seat, “let’s just change the subject. it’s like I can feel my breakfast coming back up.”

he almost wants to argue more, to keep pressing and keep questioning, but then he sees the way you’re fidgeting, and his expression softens.

he almost scoffs at your sudden attempt at a change of subject, but he stops himself. he just nods instead, giving you a slight smile. “alright. whatever you want, sweetheart.”

it’s hard for him to just change the subject that easily, to just brush it aside and stop talking about it. he’s still upset about it, and he has a lot of things he wants to say.

but the expression on your face and the way you’d started fidgeting just reminded him that he can’t be selfish.

“what do you want to talk about?” he asks gently.

you shrug, trying to think of something.

“do you still have that ring i gave you?”

he perks up a little bit at your question, and he almost laughs. he’s surprised by the change of subject, but he’s grateful for it as well. he nods, reaching into his pocket and pulling it out.

“of course i do, sweetheart,” he says, holding it up to show you through the glass. “you think i would get rid of it?”

“i thought you must’ve traded it in for some money by now. i wouldn’t have blamed you, y’know.”

he can’t help but smile at that, shaking his head. “nah, i would never get rid of it,” he says, holding it up closer to the glass. “this thing means more to me than money, sweetheart. and besides, even if i did trade it for money, i’d use that money to call you.”

you smile. “aw, well, aren’t you thoughtful.”

he laughs at that and shakes his head a little. he can’t help but smile as he looks at you.

“i’m thoughtful? i’m the one being thoughtful?” he asks, grinning at you. “you were the one giving me the ring in the first place,” he points out, holding up the ring to show you again as if he’s displaying the evidence.

“i’m just making good use of it,” he says, twirling the ring between his fingers with a smirk. he knows this is just a way to distract away from the original subject, but he can’t help but play along.

this feels easier to deal with. just talking to you normally, like nothing happened. he almost wishes he could reach through the glass and take your hand.

“you know, the guys in here have been on my case non-stop,” he says suddenly, a lighthearted tone to his voice. “they keep calling me an idiot for not trading it in for money. they say i could’ve bought a whole candy bar with the money from that ring. one whole candy bar.”

you chuckle at his words, amused by how the inmates have been teasing him. “yeah? They tell you that?”

he laughs a little as well, leaning back in his chair now. “yeah. constantly. they also wanted to know why i bothered keeping it when i wasn’t even sure if i was gonna keep seeing you or not.”

he glances down at the ring in his palm, twirling it again. “i just told ‘em they were all morons.”

“i mean, come on, a chocolate bar or my love?” he asks, grinning at you. “seems like an obvious choice to me.”

You raise an eyebrow, “i’m your love now?”

“my love, my sweetheart, my darling, my baby,” he says, listing off all the pet names he’s used for you. “do you need me to keep going?”

“i think i’m good.”

he grins at your response, leaning forward a little. “you don’t need any clarification on that one, huh?”

he’s a little quieter now, but his voice still has that flirty edge to it. “you know i love you,” he says softly, a loving little smile on his face.

it feels a little surreal to sit here talking to you like this. to say these things to you without anyone else listening in, without anyone else around.

he wishes he could hold your face between his hands. he wishes he could wrap his arms around you, pull you close, and kiss you on the forehead.

but he can’t, so he just speaks quietly to you instead, the ring still in his hand.

“wish i could do more than just talk to you like this,” he whispers, sighing a little. he glances around the visiting room, checking on all the guards and other visitors. no one is paying attention to you two.

“wish i could just take you on dates, take you out to dinner and the movies and whatever else you wanted,” he says, turning his eyes back to you. “just be a normal couple doing normal relationship things, y’know?”

he laughs a little, but there’s a hint of frustration to it. why did everything have to be so impossible for the two of you?

“we could’ve had a nice place together by now, and you wouldn’t have to keep coming here, just to talk for a few hours,” he says, shaking his head.

he glances around the visiting room again, taking in all the other visitors and inmates meeting with their friends and families.

“instead we…” he trails off, sighing again. what else could he say. Instead we’re here, stuck with whatever this is.

he looks back at you, letting out a sharp exhale. he wants so desperately just to be with you. to hold you, kiss you. to hold your face in his hands and whisper sweet words against your ear.

all he wants is to be allowed to love you, but the world won’t let him.

“you look tired,” he remarks suddenly, noticing the dark circles under your eyes, the way you’re fidgeting in your seat.

he wonders if you’ve slept at all since yesterday. he can’t imagine that you have.

“i’m fine,” you assure luigi, “i’ll be fine.”

he gives you a skeptical look, but doesn’t press the issue. he can tell just by looking at you that you’re exhausted, and he can see that stubborn determination in your expression.

he doubts he could convince you to take care of yourself even if he tried.

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[munsonsmixtapes]

can you write soft!eddie with shy!reader? their dynamic would be so sweet!!

Family Video is completely empty when you enter it for your first shift. You pick at the skin around your nails as you approach the counter. A man is behind it typing something into the computer, a curtain of curls covering his face as he does so.

You want to speak to him, to tell him that it's your first day, but you just stand there, waiting for him to notice you. It's partly because he seems busy and partly because talking to new people has always been something you've struggled with. You get too shy or nervous or and you hate it, but it's not exactly easy to get over.

After a few minutes, he finishes up what he's doing and turns towards the front of the store, his eyes widening once they lock on you, a shocked yelp coming from his mouth which he tries his best to cover up by clearing his throat.

"Jesus," he says as he reaches up to clutch his chest, his other hand pressing against the top of the counter. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," you reply, your voice barely audible. "I-I'm y/n," you tell him. "I'm the new hire." You look so nervous and Eddie thinks it's adorable, that you're adorable in your Family Video vest. God, he just wants to shrink you down and put you in his pocket so he can protect you from anything and everything.

"Right," he nods. Steve told him that someone new was starting to day, but he didn't think you'd be so pretty. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to the back room." He comes out from behind the counter and leads you to the breakroom that also doubles as the place where you clock in and has a set of lockers where you can put your belongings.

He goes to open the door just as it's pushed open, Steve, the one who interviewed you and helped you through your training coming through it. He's wearing a Family Video vest while the stranger is not.

"Y/n," he smiles as he pushes the other man out of the way by his face. "So I see you've met Eddie, who really needs to put his vest on," he glares at Eddie who sighs and heads over to the counter to begrudgingly put his vest on.

"Now, let's get you clocked in and then we'll go from there, alright?" He asks and you follow him into the breakroom where you clock in then put your purse into your assigned locker.

Once you're all set, you exit the breakroom and find Steve behind the counter where Eddie is also standing. Steve waves you over and you go behind the counter to meet them.

"So, Eddie is going to show you how to do the register while I work on some paper work in the office. If you have any questions, just ask Eddie, alright?" You nod and Steve heads to the office, leaving you alone with Eddie.

You both stand there awkwardly and Eddie notices that your hands are shaking and god, does he want to take them in his and press kisses to them, doing whatever he can t get rid of your nervousness.

"Here," he says, hesitantly taking a step closer to you. "Why don't we take some deep breaths, hm?" He breaths in and and you mimic him, holding it until he lets it out and you follow. He doesn't even know you and he's doing what he can to make you feel better.

"Are you ready to start or do you need more time?" He asks and you nod, your shaking lessening ever so slightly.

"I'm ready," you nod and he smiles, showing you his teeth before turning to the register in front of the both of you. He shows you how to work it, being nothing but gentle as he does so, being sure to check in every once in a while between customers.

He was hesitant about having a new coworker, but now that you're here, he doesn't want to let you go. He's even excited to work with you. And after Steve locks up at the end of the night, Eddie insists on walking you to your car.

He's got his hand on the small of your back and to his surprise, you let him, feeling secure with him behind you, protecting you in the dark of night in the abandoned parking lot.

You like him, maybe more than you should considering the fact that you just met him, but he's been so kind and patient with you unlike other coworkers you've had. A lot of them didn't like how softspoken and shy you were, but Eddie understands and besides, your voice being so quiet only gives him more of an excuse to lean closer to hear you.

"Are you working tomorrow?" He asks and you just nod as you put your key into the ignition and start it up.

"Good," he nods. "I'll see you then, y/n. Drive safe, okay?" You wave and Eddie turns on his heel, running into Steve as he does so.

"You're sweet on her, huh?" Steve asks in a teasing tone as Eddie takes his keys out of his pocket as he heads to his van. Steve follows, wanting hear what he already knows the answer to.

"What makes you say that?" Eddie asks even though he totally is and he knows it's obvious.

"Nothing, just that you've been so nice to her, and not that you're not nice usually, but this is different."

"Bye, Steve," Eddie waves his hand in the air as he gets to his van, wanting to put the conversation to an end. He doesn't want to hear what Steve has to say and he most certainly doesn't want him in his business. Steve may be his friend, but Eddie doesn't talk to him about this kind of stuff and he's not gonna start now. Whatever's going to happen between the two of you is your business and your business alone, no matter how much Steve tries to butt in.

[artist-issues]

@ray-moo

Look, let's just not. Okay? I've done this song and dance too often; this is not the post to engage me on this topic with.

It feels like you're going to hop back on here and try to work step-by-step toward a conclusion that ultimately goes something like this:

"Because the Bible does not specifically say, in originally-penned 21st-century English, these words in this specific order: 'An adult human born with one set of genitals is prohibited from having physical sexual relations, or non-platonic feelings toward, any other adult human born with the same set of genitals'—because it does not specifically say those things in that order in my 21st-century English, there is wiggle room and you can't tell people what God was trying to say."

I mean. Everybody else who comes on here and nibble-by-nibble feeds me responses, starting with "who says your interpretation is correct?" then continues on to "which part do you mean?" always eventually ends up at "there's wiggle room so it must be your bigotry claiming to speak for God."

...which, when you read the Bible as a whole, understanding that principals can be exegeted from God's Word very simply and plainly because it is a supra-cultural Scripture meant to be preserved and applied to modern life as well as the time it was written...

...is just another way to say, "did God really say?"

It's too obvious by any measure of logic, reasoning, and honest translation that God for sure meant that homosexuality is a sin. In fact, anything outside His intended design—which is one man, and one woman, united as one flesh in a holy covenant before Him—is a sin.

Too simple for me to bother with having the same tired conversation. So, forgive me if you weren't going to go there. Maybe I'm projecting what the people who came to this and other posts before you onto you. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and let's talk.

You're just kind of starting this conversation the same way they all do.

You thought when people painted the "someday you're going to have to choose, for real, between the World and God, you won't be able to walk the line between both" picture that they were talking about martyrdom.

Some extreme. "Trample this picture of Jesus." "Say you don't believe!" "Convert to a different religion!"

You didn't realize that it wouldn't look like that. You didn't realize that when the line gets drawn in the sand, and Jesus is on one side, the other side would look like crying people wailing out, "why can't you just accept me for who I am? Why aren't I enough for you?"

You didn't realize that the choice would be between Jesus the Truth...or a majority of people in the culture making movies, making t-shirt slogans, changing their names, gently telling you that maybe this word in the Bible doesn't mean what you think it means, maybe love just means love, maybe you can have Jesus and whatever sexuality you want.

"Did God really say...?"

You thought it would be something overt. But the bad guys never said, "hey, choose the dark side over the light." They always said, "hey, maybe you don't even know what Jesus said."

The choice is: "It is the Lord. Let Him do what seems good to Him." OR "Did God really say...?"

That's the choice. This is where the rubber meets the road. This is our "choose this day who you will serve." As for me, I'm serving the Lord, and He's holding on to me. He never changes, and yes He did really say.

Hold fast to the truth. It doesn't change. People and cultures do.

[steddie-island]

Plenty Implied

Written for @steddiesongfics and @steddiebingo Song: Baby, It's Cold Outside Prompts: Under the influence (R1), winter (R1 and 12 days of Christmas) Rating: E | WC: 2,343 | Tags: Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington, getting together, first kiss, snowed in For full list of tags see ao3 | Divider credit

This wasn't how Steve had expected his night to go. He'd expected the blind date his mother had set him up on to suck (it had). He'd expected there to be a kerfuffle over the bill, no matter which of them paid (his date had). He'd expected the night to end with him and Robin cuddled on the couch, eating cookies and ice cream while they talked about how bad his mother's taste in dates for him was.

The getting home part was where everything had gone wonky. Even if he hadn't locked the keys in his car, the snow had piled up so fast that he wouldn't have been able to make it out of the parking lot.

Maybe if he'd left at the same time as his date then he would've been able to get out. But he hadn't, he'd stayed behind and finished the wine he'd ordered while watching the Alpha behind the bar.

Now here he was, sitting in the corner of said Alpha's couch while Eddie puttered around the kitchen. He hadn't yet decided whether Eddie living above the restaurant was good luck or not. It would depend on if Steve's mother found out he'd started the evening with one Alpha and ended it with another.

"Marshmallows or no marshmallows?"

Eddie's voice pulled Steve back to the moment. "Marshmallows," he said, looking towards the kitchen.

When Eddie joined him again he was holding two mugs piled high with whipped cream, marshmallows, and… chocolate shavings? As if the cocoa wasn't surprising enough, it was brought out in matching Garfield mugs.

"I sort of thought you were joking about making cocoa." Steve took his mug and held it close. The warm scent of chocolate and cinnamon wrapped around him. It mixed surprisingly well with the scent of Eddie — tobacco and leather.

"Stevie. I would never joke about hot cocoa." Eddie didn't sit down beside him right away and instead crossed to a table pushed against the wall. Steve watched nimble fingers flip through the vinyls until he'd found what he wanted.

"…Really?" Steve laughed as the voice of Ella Fitzgerald filled the room. "Isn't this a little on the nose?"

"Maybe that's why I picked it." Eddie grinned as he took his seat. "Did you get ahold of your friend?" He gestured to the cordless he'd given Steve before stepping into the kitchen.

"No. She didn't answer, I figured I would try again in a few minutes." Steve flicked his tongue out to try and clear a spot for himself to drink out of through the whipped cream. Rich chocolate flavor exploded on his tongue, followed by the subtle burn of alcohol.

"I think Ella was on to something, there's definitely more than chocolate in this," he teased.

Eddie's rumbling laugh made Steve shiver. "I just figured it would help warm you up," he said. His nose wrinkled in a way that made Steve want to lean in and kiss the tip of it. "…Was that creepy? I can make you some without, I just remembered you having wine earlier, didn't think it would hurt—"

"You were watching me?" Steve asked.

"I didn't say that." Eddie arched one brow as he took a long drink. He licked the whipped cream mustache away before Steve could offer to do it. "But yeah, I was. It's always fun to be an innocent bystander for the trainwreck dates."

"Trainwreck!" Steve barked out in a laugh. "You could not tell it was a trainwreck from all the way over by the bar."

"Trust me, you work with people as long as I have, you learn to pick up on things." Eddie settled in against the couch with one arm stretched out along the back of it. "If that's what you count as a good date, I would hate to see what counts as bad."

Steve settled back, too, with his hands around his mug and his body facing Eddie's. "It wasn't the worst date I've ever had. Just… awkward."

"What is the worst date you've ever had?"

Another laugh bubbled up as Steve drained half of his mug. "It'll take more than one mug of hard cocoa to get that out of me."

"You're not serious." Eddie watched Steve with wide eyes.

"I fucking wish I was joking!"

It had taken more than one hard cocoa, but just barely. Steve had managed to get through to Robin (who, to her credit, only panicked a little at the idea of Steve being with a guy neither of them knew, and she only demanded his full name, address, a physical description, and his license plate number in case Steve didn't show up again once the weather had cleared up). Once the cocoa was gone and Robin knew Steve was somewhere safe for the night, they had switched to a bottle of bourbon Eddie had brought home from work.

There was something about Eddie that Steve found comforting in a way he hadn't found with anyone but Robin in a very long time. Maybe it was because Eddie hadn't even blinked when Robin had demanded to speak to him, too. Maybe it was because he looked tough and rugged, with his ripped jeans and his motorcycle boots and the tattoos covering his arms, but he had at least two Garfield mugs in his kitchen and he listened to Ella Fitzgerald on snowy nights.

Eddie's laugh was big and bright and Steve found that he wanted to wrap himself up in it because it warmed him even more than their drinks had. He was just warm, and Steve found himself slowly gravitating closer and closer to Eddie's end of the couch.

If Robin was here, she would be telling him that he needed to be careful. He fell too hard too fast and he always got hurt for it. This night, though, Eddie, it all felt different. This wasn't even a date, Eddie had just been nice enough to offer Steve somewhere to warm himself up for the night.

Now Steve wanted to offer Eddie somewhere warm, too.

It was a stupid line brought on by a horny thought, and Steve nearly spat out his drink.

"You good, man?" Eddie asked as he reached over to lightly clap Steve on the back. His scent was even stronger when he was this close.

"I'm good." Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. "Just— stupid thought. I think I need to take that as my sign to head to bed."

"Okay." Eddie tossed back the rest of his drink and started cleaning their dishes up. Steve reached out to help and Eddie stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Stay there, I've got this."

"I can help," Steve insisted. He stood up and grabbed their empty mugs. "Besides, I'm, uh… going to need some pajamas, if you have anything I can borrow?"

"Oh fuck, right!" Eddie put the bottle of bourbon back down on the coffee table and hurried down a short hallway to what Steve assumed was his bedroom.

While Eddie was gone Steve carried their dishes to the kitchen. He rinsed them out and left them to be washed in the morning. Eddie could still be heard rummaging in his room, so Steve took a moment to be a little nosy. He let his fingertip curl around the cabinet door.

Eddie didn't just have a Garfield mug. There were juice glasses with the fat orange cat on them, and were those dinner plates? Steve lifted one up carefully to get a closer look— Garfield in a night dress and cap, beside Odie in a rocking chair.

"Not what you expected, huh?"

Caught, Steve put the plate back and turned to Eddie with pink cheeks. "I was just wondering, after I saw the mugs. I would say I'm not usually that nosy, but…" He shrugged. "I would be lying."

Eddie grinned wide and Steve once more found himself watching the way the corners of his eyes crinkled.

"It's something I got into with my uncle," he explained. "We watched the cartoons together. It's something we bonded over when I moved in with him." He held something out to Steve. "I don't actually have any clean pajama pants…"

Steve unfolded the shirt. It was soft and worn, with a few tiny holes around the neck. Clearly this was a shirt that Eddie had had for a while, one he loved. And he was offering it up to Steve to use for the night.

Whatever resolve or sense of propriety Steve had left flew out the window. He'd wondered earlier what his mother would think about him having dinner with one Alpha and then going home with another one entirely.

Finding out her son not only went home with a stranger, but that he was the one who made the first move, might've sent her to an early grave.

Steve didn't let that stop him as he closed the distance between them. His hand cupped Eddie's cheek, thumb stroking his jaw, and then their lips were pressed together.

Eddie's lips were soft and warm. He tasted like chocolate and alcohol and Steve would never get enough.

"Look, I know it might be forward," he murmured. "But you smell so good, and you're so nice, and I would kick myself if I didn't shoot my shot."

Warm air brushed Steve's mouth as Eddie laughed again. Steve was becoming addicted to that, too.

"I got you tipsy and didn't give you pants to sleep in, and you think you're being forward?"

"Giving me pants would've just made it that much harder for you to get into them, wouldn't it?"

Eddie actually groaned, but then his mouth was on Steve's again and Steve's back was pressed against the lip of the counter. "Fuck, that was cheesy."

"Says the man with the Garfield collec— hey!" Steve yelped as he was lifted up onto the counter. Eddie was slim, lean, but there was a strength in his arms that was surprising.

Eddie's lips trailed over his jaw and up towards his ear. "Don't pretend the Garfield collection isn't what won you over."

"Was I that transparent?" Steve murmured. His legs came up to wrap around Eddie's waist, his arms draped around those wide shoulders.

"'Fraid so." Eddie pressed a kiss to the moles on the underside of Steve's jaw. "You know… if seeing my dinnerware made you want to jump into bed with me, I can't wait until you see my pajamas."

Steve threaded a hand into Eddie's soft hair and stole another kiss that was almost teasing. "Oh, baby. I don't think either of us could handle that."

Neither of them stopped smiling as Eddie lifted him off of the counter, as they bumped their way down the hallway.

Steve was far from a blushing virgin, had been around the block more than few times. None of his partners had been like Eddie, though.

Eddie's mouth left a trail of fire as he played connect the dots with Steve's moles. His fingers stoked Steve's pleasure higher and higher, until his thighs shook and there was a patch of slick on the bed beneath them, until he'd fallen apart not once but twice.

Eddie was right there after, too, kissing Steve's shattered edges and melting them until they were fitted together and he was whole again.

When Eddie finally settled over him, when they were finally joined as one, it was with their hands threaded together on either side of Steve's head.

It wasn't rushed. It was slow and languid, with kisses to eyelids and cheeks and chins, with Eddie sucking marks into Steve's skin and Steve urging Eddie on with his heels.

They came together with a cry from Steve and Eddie panting Steve's name into the hollow of his throat.

Afterward there was an ease with Eddie that Steve hadn't gotten from other partners. There was no hasty cleanup, no scrambling for clothes. Eddie just rolled them away from the wet spot. He kissed Steve gently, then slipped out of bed to get a wet washcloth to wipe them both off.

Steve slipped into the shirt Eddie had brought to him. It was even softer when it was on. Eddie's scent was there beneath the laundry detergent scent, too.

Eddie wrapped around him when he got back into bed. He tucked the blankets around them and buried his face in Steve's neck in a way that showed Steve wasn't the only one feeling a little scent addicted.

Sleep was just taking over when Eddie's voice roused him again.

"You think roses would be appropriate?"

"Hmm?" Steve cracked one eye open. "For what?"

"Feel like I owe your date a thank you after this."

Steve lightly smacked Eddie's hip. "You don't think there's someone else you should be thanking?"

"Oh, right." Eddie nuzzled down against the top of Steve's head and held him that much tighter. "I'll have to get some for your mom, too."

"Eddie!" Steve dissolved into sleepy giggles that he tried to stifle against Eddie's shoulder. "That's still not who I was talking about!"

"I know." Eddie pressed a kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth and gathered him impossibly closer. "Thought you might like breakfast more than flowers. Figured I would save flowers for our first date."

"This wasn't a date?" Steve asked. "What would you call it?"

Eddie took so long to answer that Steve was almost sure he'd fallen asleep, too. "Our meet cute. But we should probably leave out the sex when we tell our future grandpups."

Steve couldn't stop the purr that started in his chest.

Even if there was talk tomorrow about what he'd done, and if it made its way back to his parents, he'd met the Alpha of his dreams, someone who collected Garfield memorbilia and talked about pups before they'd even technically been on a date.

They fell asleep wrapped up together, with Steve's purr still rumbling on and the snow falling down around them.

[thewertsearch]

@krixwell asked: I think it's general theory summary o'clock. Broadly, what are your expectations for the rest of Act 5 and its ending?

I'm a little late answering this one - but hey, better late than never!

I can't predict the rest of the Act anymore, but I can try and predict the ending. Here are my predictions for what'll happen in Cascade, organized by character.

Rose & Dave

The Derse twins, who have dispatched DD together, meet Aradia at the Green Sun. The Tumor detonates as planned, but Aradia is able to save them somehow, possibly by spiriting them away with time travel...

...or, by telling them how she cheated death.

Aradia was able to resurrect herself without a backup body, from a pedestal hidden within the moon of Derse; the very moon the kids are currently piloting. Doc Scratch has already hinted that Rose might ascend on 'another quest bed somewhere', and I think this is how she - and Dave - could do it.

If Rose and Dave died destroying the Sun, it would almost certainly count as Heroic – but that doesn't actually matter. If the twins die on Quest Slabs, they won't die as God Tiers - they'll die as mortals, and resurrect as God Tiers. They should reincarnate safely, as the Sun collapses for good.

The Meteor Crew

To be honest, I don't think the trolls will have much of a role to play in the endgame. All the action is happening in the kids' session, and now that the Scratch has started, they can't even contact that session.

In any case, these kids are planning to follow the Green Sun's explosion to a predetermined rendezvous point. I'm not sure how they're going to get there - but Kanaya is a wielder of the Space Aspect, so maybe it's her time to shine.

...I mean, shine even more brightly than she already does.

Jack

After he absolutely kills CD, Jack is destined to travel to the troll session, but I still have no idea how. Perhaps the dimensional instability created by the Scratch will start to rip holes into other sessions, and he’ll be lured into one? Who knows.

I'm as stumped as I ever was. Only one way to find out, I guess!

John

Once he's triggered the Scratch, this kid's going to need an out. He'll need to make himself scarce in order to avoid being erased...

...or, perhaps he won’t. Perhaps, as the Heir of Breath, he’ll be able to use the Breeze to conceal himself from whatever force is destroying the session, the same way he hid his scent from Jack.

Either way, he'll probably be fine, while the same cannot be said for...

Jade

The greatest of Fs for our girl. Jade's been killed in an extremely tense situation, without leaving much hope for her resurrection before the Scratch.

The Sprites are still around, but I don’t know how they’d revive her- like, sure, Nanna has a healing beam, but I don’t think she can heal death. Plus, Jade made a Choice with Echidna to locate her Final Frog - and it seems that accepting a Choice will inevitably lead you to sacrifice your life. If Jade's death was immediately undone, would it really count as a sacrifice?

I don't want to call it too early, but... it isn't out of the question that Jade is gone for good. Especially when she's already got a replacement, waiting in the wings.

Jadesprite

I think it's genuinely possible that Jadesprite could take over Jade's role as one of the 'main' four kids.

She's about to lose her First Guardian powers, but she should still have time to fulfil Echidna's request in her realself's stead, simply by shrinking the entire session, and teleporting it to the Furthest Ring, where her allies can captchalogue it. Hell, this would be easy for her.

I really, really don't want Jade to be dead. But, well... she made a Choice.

The Endgame

Finally, we see the consequences of the Green Sun’s destruction, which I’m sure are as cataclysmic as they are unexpected. Rose realizes how badly she was played, as Scratch's full hand is finally revealed. All of Paradox Space shakes from the impact. Scratch and Snowman die, and English consumes the troll universe.

Everyone meets up on the exiled Lands, and they resolve to travel to the reset session, once it’s spawned.

Act 6?

After we're done, I’m hoping for the Guardians-as-Players to get the Hivebent treatment – by which I mean, I’m hoping Act 6 gives us the full story of the Scratched session, right from kid Nanna standing in her bedroom. It’s also possible, though, that we’ll join their session in medias res, as our protagonists' teenage parents face hitherto unknown challenges in a new Medium. I'll talk more about my specific predictions for the Guardian session in their own post, once Act 5 has fully concluded.

The adventure continues, as the kids slowly realize that English, and the Paradox Space twisted to suit his ends, is the true enemy, and they begin to make plans to confront him directly.

[ask-the-royal-absol]

(So, 2 years, huh? Wild. It has really been 2 whole years. That's just wow. Just crazy how time passes. So, to celebrate, I decided to draw as many characters as I could that have interacted with Destino. I've tried to do them in order but that kinda went out the window the more I drew lol. I wish I could have fitted more on there. I really do.

2 years of my bastard Absol in this wonderful community. I've just got so much that I want to say. I've spoken to so many of you and you're all so incredibly special to me. Each and every single one of you. This community is truly full of incredible people and I'm just so fortunate to have you all in my life. Genuinely. We've had so many laughs. So many moments which I fondly look back on. Some of you theorising on what's going to happen. That makes me happy knowing people are actually invested in what is going to happen. The stupid shitposts that have been suggested. Fuck, they make me laugh looking back on them. The countless AUs that have been discussed. That's what's special about this community; it's just full of those quality moments which make me so happy to be here. I've made so many friends here and I'm grateful that I've gotten to know you all. Thank you for choosing to talk to me. It makes me very happy.

Let's consider all of these moments Destino has had. The pissed off legendary and mortal Pokémon. Destino getting absolutely destroyed by god Pokémon. The insults abound. The bonds that are starting to form. The events they've joined in. It's nice knowing lots of you enjoy them as a character. It's just so much fun interacting as them and interacting with all of your characters. I'm going to look forward to how these will all develop in the future. I am someone who is always keen to let me characters develop friendships with others. Just depends on whether you can crack that shell that Destino puts around themselves.

Now, let's talk the future of this blog. In this next year, I want to finish the Terrestria chapter and head into the next chapter. I was hoping to get further with it but it's alright. I'm probably not going to participate in as many events this next year as I want to get more story bits done. But who knows. Maybe I will. There is one thing I am going to do with the majority of major posts on my blog going forward. The next story post will have this and I hope you all enjoy it because I certainly find it fun to do.

The final thing. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Every single interaction and poll on this blog affects the ending. There are 5 endings in total which you can get on this blog and I have a tally thing which I'm doing which tells me which path we are on. All I'm going to say at the moment is that there are two strong contenders. One has just edged out because of this recent poll. But that's all I'll say on the matter. I am excited to see how it all turns out in the end.

And that's it really. I am excited for this year of Destino and co. I am excited for how I'm going to make you all feel with these characters. Thank you all so, so much for the support you've have given me. Even to those who like and/or reblog my posts. I know my regulars well. I always make it a bit of a competition of who's going to like my posts first. I am so surprised at the speed in which some of you like my posts. It's, like, after a few seconds and that's just crazy to me. I love it.

Bring on year 3.)

[turningmad]

@mandalhoerian @bigclownshoes THANK YOU YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT!! because thats another thing I wanted to talk about in my original post but I really didn't think ppl would bother reading it.

Tbh as someone who has also played loads of otome games (yes.. this also includes Diabolik lovers 💀).

I tend to analyse and compare games when I first start off playing them just to see whether it does justice to most otome games or not, and one thing I noticed for LaDs was that during the main story and even the 5 star card stories, I often struggled to 100% immerse myself into this and literally felt like I was an 'observer' rather it being me, and yes just as previously mentioned the game does try to balance both 'strong story telling and it's own protagonist' with 'MC is you immersion' thing, but it's not really doing a "wow" job at it.

And due to this I have been avoiding playing the main story quest after the Sylus arc because I actually am starting to hate MC 💀 (Hot take ik).

Honestly speaking Mystic Messenger will always be the number 1 otome game for me because Cheritz did an absolutely amazing job in making the story immersive for us reader, I mean.... WE COULD CHANGE OUR PFP TO OUR SELFIES?!? And the fact we literally got to make our own choices which altered the direction the story went was like so advanced for a game in 2016 (if only there was a 3D game like LaDS but for MM 🥲)

And I know Twisted Wonderland isn't 100% an otome game but even there you literally can easily immerse yourself into the story

For Obey me, the same could be said but unfortunately the only issue I saw with the game was that our choices literally did not matter in the storyline just like in Love and Deepspace :(.

There is so much more I wanna say but I got hungry so I'm ending it here.

Guys I may be mentally insane but ... Why do I low-key feel jealous of MC when I see clips of the upcoming cards... Especially the Sylus one..

IK SHE'S MEANT TO BE US BUT 😭😭

[lolitastories]

Yoni

Bucky Barnes

Scenario: Y/N is helping Sarah decorate a party but gets interrupted by two little fellas. What started out as teasing will end her up with more than she prepared for, but she wasn't complaining.

“So, you are the girlfriend?” I look over the picnic table to see two boys moving to sit down.

“She can’t be his girlfriend!” The other boy laughed as he turned over to me. “Are you?” I opened my mouth to answer before Sarah smacked both boys in the back of their head. Both boys letting out and ow.

“Mind your business.” She gave me an am sorry look before turning her attention back to the boys. “How about you do something more useful and help her with these balloons? The boys nod. Sarah sets a box full of decoration on the table before leaving. I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle to their stern faces as they looked down.

“Yes.” I simply respond which makes their heads pop up. “We have been dating for a while.” I smile remembering how long we have been together, 8 months.

“Why hadn’t he introduced you yet?”

“Wait, does our uncle Sam know about you?”

“He would’ve let it slip by now” He turns to his brother as the other nods in agreement.

“He surely would have made a joke or two to make uncle Bucky feel uncomfortable” The older brother chuckles.

“He didn’t mention uncle Buck-” The older one shoves the younger one slightly.

“Shut it Cass!” His eyes motion over to me and the younger one nods and they go back to blowing up the balloons. If I can’t let these two young boys tell me what they are hiding I should no longer be allowed to be an agent.

“Well,” I began talking, getting them to look back at me. “I am glad to finally meet Sam’s nephews. Bucky always talks about you two” It was true. He likes to spend his time bothering Sam but I know he likes to come around the boat because Sam is family and so were the boys.

“¿Really?” The young boy Cass, smiles widely. “He probably tells you he prefers me over AJ.” He proudly says.

“There is no way! I am older and he tells me thing young kids like you wouldn’t understand” Cass looks over offended and crosses his arms.

“Well you want to know something he didn’t tell you about the girl he met at the restaurant?” AJ goes to cover his mouth but Cass is quicker and moves away. “He told me he didn’t ask her on a date but when he told her about you she ran away!” I bite my lips from bursting into laughter.

“She did not!” AJ throws himself at the younger brother, but Cass slides back. “She probably didn’t want to be with him because he told her you still need mommy to sing you to sleep!” He teased that Cass didn’t take another second to jump at him but thankfully he was lifted off before he could reach AJ.

“Is that how a man should behave in front of a lady?” I look over admiring Bucky. Cass was just casually hanging while Bucky had his metal arm wrapped around his chest. AJ stood up,

“No” He looks down. I hear Bucky let out a sigh and place Cass on the floor. The boys like on demand turn towards me and apologise. “Can we still help you?” I smile nodding.

“Because you two are so cute I will allow it.” The boys smile and take back their seats. I looked up towards Bucky who had a wide smile.

“You’re much prettier than Leah either way” We all look over at the words that suddenly came out of Cass’s mouth.

“You don’t even know what she looks like!” AJ says.

“Yeah but I know what she looks like!” He points over to me. “Uncle Bucky can’t do better than her” The boys laugh agreeing with each other.

“Enough!” The boys froze hearing Sarah's voice, I felt my cheek redden a little too. “Go find Sam” They boys scurry to run off. “See if he can do something with you two” She shakes her head whispering the last bit. “Sorry about those two.” She places her hand on one hip leaning on one side.

“Don’t worry about it.” I looked over towards Bucky who was scratching the back of his neck, looking at anything other than at me. “You know I would actually like to talk to them more. Seems like Leah, made a great impression on them.” I moved my eyes away from Bucky when he looked up with widened eyes.

“Oh honey,” She laughed, coming over to place her arm around my shoulder. “Since you’ve walked through the doors they couldn’t take their eyes off of you” I join her in the laugh. “I have my hands full with those two.” She lets out a sigh as she fixes her posture. “I have to check on the food but I will be back to help you out with the decoration-”

“I got it,” Bucky interrupted as he moved forward to grab some balloons out of the pile. Sarah nods and makes her way back into the kitchen. She leaves so the only thing we could hear right now was how the waves hit the side of the boat. The seagulls flying over or singing their song. The distant chatter of the boys probably bothering Sam. The sound of some metal that was being worked on the boat.

“So,” I keep on looking at Bucky. “Leah?” He sets the half blown up balloon and finally meets my eye.

“The small restaurant I met Yori in.” I nod understanding what he was talking about. He told me the old man set him up on a date but Bucky ended up leaving. Yet he forgot to mention her name. I let the balloon I had in my hand fly out making the annoying noise.

“Didn’t you take me to that restaurant on our second date?” I tried to remember but it's been so long ago. Bucky shakes his head.

“I took you on a restaurant date for our first date”

“ahh.” I nod.

“Before you told me you hated restaurant dates,” I looked up smiling at his embarrassed/sad tone. I get up walking around the picnic table to his side. I wrap my arms around his shoulder from behind and lay my head on his shoulder. His eyes were focused on a far ahead item as I twisted my head to look at him.

“I know your 1940’s heart beats for that kind of date,” I place a kiss on his cheek, gaining his attention. “If you want to take me on those dates I would do it for you” I smile trying to seem convincing.

“You can’t trick me like you can do to everybody” I furrowed my brows trying to act like I didn’t know what he was talking about. “I am not taking you to that restaurant” I stomped my leg and pushed myself away from him. I go to walk away but he grabs my wrist and pulls me onto his lap. He circled his arms around me making it hard to leave. “But I can woo you just like in the 1940s” His metal hand moved up to grip my jaw.

“Did you woo her just like in the 1940s?” I raise my brow not making it easy for him to change the subject.

“You are not going to let this go are you?” I shake my head.

“Did you bring her flowers like you did for me?” His lips fall into a flat line. His hand dropped to my lap. “You did, didn’t you?” I scoff, shaking my head. I wasn’t mad, honestly it was endearing he was such a gentleman. “Now I really have to meet her and more because you told me not so long ago that I was the first girl you were interested in after becoming Bucky again.” As I spoke the words it was like I was becoming rabid on my own words.

“I was telling the truth!” He holds on tighter as I try to get away from his hold. “I tried to speak to you but you were never interested,” He softly let out. I am an agent of shield and it wouldn’t be good to become involved with an avenger. Now that he was steering away or no longer much involved, he was able to separate personal with business, that is what made me say yes to a date. “When you left for almost a year's mission, I was missing you” My eyes scanned over his face. “I was yearning for something that wasn’t mine,” I had instantly moved to grip his face. “Sam and my therapist told me to get out there and that was when Yoni set me up with Leah.” I will have a talk with Sam later, traitor. “I wasn’t lying when I told you, you were the first girl that made my 1940s heart beat again” How can I be made at that?.

“Was I really that standoffish?” Bucky lets out a chuckle.

“Doll,” He looks me in my eyes. “You were colder than winter” I laughed at his sudden joke. “Is a good thing with other man but when I tried to get to you, you would immediately shut me down”

“It just took me some time to warm up to you but see, now we are here” I move forward yearning for his lips on mine.

“You two and your puns should be blowing on balloons not blowing into each other” we pull away hearing Sam walking up to the table. I was going to make a snarky comment until I heard the boys running around Sam to sit on the picnic table. I smiled teasingly and I went for an innocent joke.

“You don’t want any more nephews?” I could sense Bucky tense up. “Maybe a niece this time?” I pat Bucky on the shoulder before getting up from his lap. I walk past Sam but he takes hold of my arm and leans down to whisper in my ear.

“Seems like you froze the soldier” I look over and smile. I turn back to Sam and with a mischievous nod and smile we turn over to Bucky at the same time. “I would love a niece actually, what do you think buddy?” He speaks to Bucky but he doesn’t flinch.

“I don’t mind which comes out as long as it has his eyes.”

“Oh yes, those beautiful blues” Sam and I continue to joke around until Bucky pushes himself up. He looks dead at my eyes and struts towards me until he drags me away alongside him.

“¡Hey!” Sam screams from behind us. “You are supposed to help with the party, where are you two going?!” I look over to Bucky wanting to say something, but he leaves me speechless once again.

“I am going to make you that niece!”

[corkinavoid]

The Tip Of The Iceberg · Owl City

Grumpy x sunshine

Winter wonderland

DPxDC Love at Frost Sight

Jason's favorite season of the year was fall. Early fall, to be exact, when the trees become red and golden, and the air smells of pumpkin spice because of all the coffeeshops simultaneously deciding it's the time to bring it back once again, and it's not yet cold enough to wear a coat, but just cool enough to put on a comfy sweater.

On the other hand, his least favorite season was winter. All of it, starting from late November and ending in early April. His bones ached in the cold that no coat could manage to keep out, the roads were always slippery, no matter how much salt was thrown over them, and he despised the amounts of hot tea he had to drink to keep himself from freezing to death.

Not to mention the lack of sunlight, the vitamins he had to take daily, the shiver that ran down his body when he stepped out of the shower and-

"You know, if you keep frowning like that, people are going to start thinking I've brought you here under the threat of a gun."

Jason blinks and tears his gaze away from the dimly lit, snowy scenery of Robinson Park and looks to Jazz, who is walking just beside him, a steaming cup of coffee in her fingers. She looks beautiful, even wearing a puffy purple jacket that makes her look like an off-color penguin and a knitted hat that hides all her red hair.

Jason huffs and rubs his forehead, smoothing the wrinkle between his eyebrows manually.

"You still hadn't told me why are we taking a walk in the park instead of doing literally anything else," he reminds her, and Jazz smiles, holding her chin higher.

"I have my reasons," she tells, her voice full of mischief. Jason rolls his eyes and hides his freezing palms deeper in his pockets. "We're almost there, don't roll your eyes at me," Jasmine shorts a short laugh and pokes him in the side.

Almost where, he wants to ask, because he is pretty sure she can't show him anything he hasn't seen before in here. He is a Gothamite, after all, and she just moved here two years ago, and Robinson Park couldn't have changed that much since his whole dying and coming back act.

But then, Jazz finishes her coffee in a few large gulps, tossing the empty cup into the nearest bin, and takes his elbow, all but dragging him forward, off the path and into the who knows where.

Jason stumbles over his feet but catches himself quickly enough to not faceplant the snow. Yet, that doesn't help in the slightest with figuring out where they are going because, well, it's half-past-six, which means it's already rather dark around them even with all of the street lights, and Jazz can be really fast when she wants to, and-

"Here," his impossible girlfriend suddenly stops, so abruptly like she's just ran into a wall. Jason, despite all his vigilante training, is not capable of canceling the laws of inertia on command, so he takes a few more steps forward to slow down.

"And what exactly is here?" He shakes his head, trying very hard not to snap, because he is cold, and he doesn't like surprises, and Jazz can be frustrating more than she likes to admit. But, before she can answer, and before Jason is able to put all that winter irritation into words, there's a snap.

Jason turns his head sharply, looking for the source of it just out of habit.

And halts, feeling his eyes go wide and his head completely empty.

The lights appear one by one, a slow, charming process of illuminating the small clearing they've run into. Warm and fuzzy, like tiny stars, or maybe fairy lights, but with no strings to hold them, they light up the trees and the sparkling, untouched snow under their feet. Jason blinks. The sight that he's grown to associate only with those decorative glass balls full of fake snow doesn't shatter.

And, to be fair, Jason knew winter could be beautiful - he's seen countless pictures and movies, and he understood the appeal it had on some people. But he's never really felt it, what with winters in Gotham, even at Christmas Eve, being more glum and gray than sparkling white and twinkling pretty.

But this is exactly that.

The tall trees covered in white snow, the gentle fall of snowflakes over them, the bright yellow lights that surround them.

"Close your mouth, love, you'll catch a cold," he hears Jazz say with a fond, soft laugh, and only then he realizes he is gaping.

His mouth closes back with a snap as he turns to face his girlfriend.

"How did you..." he trails off, not even sure what he's asking. How did she bring a fairytale into life? How did she find this place? How did she manage to bring him here?..

Jazz's teal eyes hold the reflections of countless warm lights around them, and she is grinning from ear to ear, her hand finding Jason's to intertwine their fingers.

"Danny helped," she admits, "But I just wanted you to see it. See why I love winter - not just because my brother is a living icicle, but because winter is magic, in a sense. It's only in winter that you can feel what's really warm and what's not."

Jason has half of a thought to ask her what she means, but he gets it just a moment before the words fall out of his mouth.

Because this, standing in the silent snowfall among the tiny lights of miniature stars, holding Jazz's hand in his, is warm. Not in a literal sense - his skin is still moments away from freezing - but something inside his chest feels like a tiny, flickering flame.

And that flame makes him smile.

"It's very pretty," he says, not taking his eyes off Jazz, and watches her cheeks become pink.

Somehow, he is certain it's not because of the cold.

~•~•~•~

This was written to not one but two Owl City songs. The first one was, as requested, 'The Tip of The Iceberg', and the second was 'Peppermint Winter', my all-time favorite winter song.

And here's the additional aesthetic!

Danny, who is responsible for the gently falling snowflakes and keeping the lights from going out, sitting invisible in a tree above them: what great lengths do I go for you, Jazz, you better get me something nice for Christmas or I swear to Ancients-

[just-some-random-blogger]

Double Dutch

The twins walk in on you as you talk about your stupid, fit neighbor. Wonder who that is.

George Weasley x Reader (x Fred Weasley) | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, fred lives stfu, harry potter lore noob, fluff, rizzler!Georgie, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a continuation to Sweets & Sweeties but both can be read individually for the most part. GUYS IDK MUCH ABOUT HARRY POTTER LORE SO PLEASE KEEP CALLING ME OUT IF YOU NEED TO COS WHAT DO YOU MEAN I THERES AN UNLOCKING SPELL HAHAHAHAHAH | cross posted on ao3

"And they didn't just use Alohomora?"

You giggle as you momentarily lean on your mop to turn to your phone, "that's what I'm saying!"

Your friend snorts from the other side of the line.

"But," you continue mopping, "to be fair, even I didn't think of it in the moment. I was just glad they helped me get back in my shop when it felt like I'd be locked in forever."

Your friend groans, "you can be so dramatic. Why would you be locked forever from your shop?"

"Stop it. I was seriously debating throwing rocks at my window to get in."

"Wow," your friend laughs, just as the bell on your front door rings, "you're just as stupid as your neighbor."

You look over your shoulder mid-mopping, "sorry, shop's not..."

You grip your mop tightly as the tall man raises a hand, "mornin'."

"... open yet."

His smirk is lopsided as he raises a brow, "not even for your stupid neighbor?"

Your stomach drops and blood rushes up your neck.

"Bloody hell," your friend's voice on loud speaker reverberates in your empty bake shop, "did your fit neighbor walk in?"

The said man chuckles and you nearly whack your phone with your mop. You quickly end the call and grit your teeth in embarrassment, unable to turn back to the red haired man that was laughing yet again.

"Fit neighbor, huh?"

You clear your throat as you decide to put a brave face on and feign ignorance. You turn to him with a dramatic hair flip and shrug.

Fred or George Weasely smiles then hums, crossing his arms. Which one he was, you couldn't tell. "Glad to know you find me fit, love."

"I-" you clear your throat, "that wasn't about you."

His brows quirk and his lips part. He scoffs in offence but his smile is still visible, "don't tell me you think I'm stupid and brother's fit." He walks over, shaking his head, clicking his tongue, "you have terrible taste in men."

You snort to mask the feel of your face burning, then pretend mopping is more exciting you really think it is, "I-" you clear your throat as you clean the tiles in front of your cake display, "don't even know which one you are."

The sheer dramatics of his gasp forces you to look back at him. The Weasley has a fist on his chest, pretending he was stabbed. He grunts in faux pain, "you're telling me I look exactly like Fred?" He rests the back of his hand on his forehead and turns away, "the horrors."

The laugh he pulls out from you is dangerous. It's full and giddy. It's more than amusement, it's full blown endearment that makes your belly roll. You stifle your laughter with your sleeve, feeling warmth linger on your cheeks. Your heart races as he, as George, saunters in front of you, hands smoothly sliding into his pockets. He tilts his head with a sigh, "might have to get even for that terrible remark, my..." he looks around the shop, "sweet neighbor."

You look up at him, pursing your lips to withhold your smile. You shrug, "I doubt a boy named Georgie can do so much damage."

He snorts and shakes his head, "cheeky bugger."

You tense when he leans forward.

"Did you just dare me to do you some damage, sweetheart?"

You open your mouth, but a strangled gasp is all that leaves you because he places his hands atop yours as he takes your mop from you.

"I feel like you don't need anymore damage, considering you did just break a mug."

You stare at him as he haphazardly starts mopping around. Your belly reacts to how he circles around the mop and shoots you a grin. You gulp, "how did you know I broke a mug?"

"Pfft," he scoffs, straightening up, resting his elbow on the top of the mop. Damn, he was tall. "I heard it break. Why do you think I came over here? To check on you!"

Your brows furrow as he puts the mop aside, "how'd you know it was a mug though?"

Georgie shrugs, "well, cause I'm a genius."

You give him a look.

He mirrors your look, then slowly begins to lean forward again, "d'ya want me to prove it?"

Your heart races as you slowly lean back, "w-what? No?"

"Wicked," he grins, straightening up, "you think I'm a genius, do ya?"

"W-What?"

"I just called myself a genius and you agreed," he puts his hands in his pockets and moves towards your cake display. He points, "that looks really good."

You compose yourself by brushing your hair back, "shop's not open yet, genius."

Georgie turns to you with a grin. He breaks into a chuckle, "why not?"

"I'm still cleaning."

He looks around the room and pulls out his wand from his pocket, "I-"

"No!" you raise your hands, "I like cleaning!"

He lowers his wand.

"I don't have anything to do before opening, and cleaning, you know..." you trail off and look away.

"No, I don't actually," he tilts his head in interest, "cleaning what?"

You shrug as you look back at him, "it gives me something to do."

He purses his lips and raises his brows, "wouldn't you rather do something fun?"

You chuckle and shake your head, "that's easy for you to say. You own Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Georgie shakes his head and raises his hands, "that's ex-"

"And you have your twin brother."

"... so?"

"You have someone to have fun with. I bet you never get homesick at all."

"Oh," he lowers his hands, "distraction for the loneliness, is it?"

You purse your lips and shrug, "yeah."

He offers you a soft smile, "I'm not a genius actually," he points his thumb over his shoulder, "your broken mug pieces are on your counter."

You turn to said object and counter, feeling bashful that you forgot about it, "oh, that's-"

"And I didn't come here because I heard you break it," he buzzes his lips then rubs his ear, "I don't think my ears are good enough for that."

You raise your brows, "I mean, I figured. I don't think anyone's ears are good enough for that."

"I did come here because I wanted to spend time with you."

You freeze.

"Want," he corrects, "I want to."

You feel blood rush up your face.

"That is," he motions vaguely and shrugs, "only if you want to take back what you said about me being the stupid one and Fred being the fit one."

"You think I'm fit?"

You both turn to the front door, only realizing now the bell had rung. Your face was burning, "I-"

"This isn't about you!"

Fred walks in, "oh, ho, ho, I do beg to differ."

Overwhelmed by the two Weasley men who begin to bicker in front of you, you step back unable to do anything but watch for a moment. That is until George says:

"No, I told you I think she's cute."

Fred scoffs, "I totally said she was cute first!"

"Keep lying, you liar."

"I literally told you the moment she w—"

"SHOP'S STILL CLOSED!" you blurt, making them turn to you. You gulp as they turn to you, and exaggeratedly clear your throat, "though I appreciate you both," cough, "think I'm cute, I have to prepare things."

"What things?" they ask in unison.

You stutter, "t-things!"

"I can help," they say at once, turning to each other, "Jinx. Double jinx. TRIPLE J-"

"GET OUT!" you point to the door, "respectfully."

The twins visibly deflate. George smacks Fred on the chest, "this is all your fault."

"Mine?" Fred scoffs, "you're the one that-"

You cut their bickering off short by pushing them towards the door. They begin to protest but do not try to overpower you to stay inside. You huff once you manage to kick them out and wave them goodbye.

"I thought we could drop by at any time for a cuppa?!" George calls out.

Fred huffs and cups the sides of his mouth, "liar!"

You chuckle softly under your breath, face warm as ever as you give them a look, "later! Once I open!"

They both huff and turn to each other. Fred says, "that's not any time, now is it."

"No, it isn't," George agrees.

[the-wip-project]

Getting to know your story (through writing it)

Welcome, writerly friends! We're having a new project to start the new year.

I'm going to give us a few days of grace to get into the new year, and then we'll start on the second Sunday in the new year, which is the twelfth of January 2025. Going through January and all the way to the end of February will give us 48 days. 

If you're wondering about the title "Getting to know your story (through writing it)", this should be something that works especially well for discovery writers, so called pantsers. I picked this up from Rachael Herron (http://www.howdoyouwrite.net/episodes/479), who says that the story will tell you what it is about, as you write the first draft. That really spoke to me. Have you ever looked at a story you wrote and wondered about a recurring theme cropping up? How the story took turns you did not foresee and it brought out a theme you never thought of? This is what I want to focus on because it happens to me all the time.

We will write as consistently as we possibly can. Maybe aim for 200 daily words? It's up to you, what you want to achieve and what is realistic. Every week we will look back and think about what the story tells us and how our process worked. What theme, what message, what kernel of truth is the story telling us? What do we learn about ourselves and our stories as we write it? How did our schedule work and when did we write best?

It's difficult to get engagement from you all and I know I always keep losing most of you along the way. But these projects are for you, not just for me. If you write about your writing, if you make a little post once a week, that accountability will give you a boost. It will help you analyse your process, it will be something to look back upon, to help you find your own process.

What you'll work on is up to you, you can continue a WIP, start a new story, finish several fanfics and start new ones. That's all up to you. Just set yourself a realistic goal. What we'll focus on is what your stories tell you. What is it you want to say? What kind of story lives inside of you and wants to come out?

Getting to know your story (through writing it). 

Start: 12th of January 

End: 28th of February

Suggestion: 

Write at least 2000 words per week 

Make a post at the end of the week about your process (the tags are #getting to know your story and #gtkys)

how you felt

what the story tells you

what you want to focus on for the next week

If you want to do this, and if you really mean it, interact with this post (not just liking it) and I'll put you on the list for nagging and reminding.

[spideysbruh]

Still Want It All

a/n- this is kinda a part two to i want it all, but it can be read alone !!!

~~~

A couple of months after Y/n and Timothée get together, their press tour is about to start. Y/n has no idea how they're going to hide that they're together. They honestly can't keep their hands off each other.

Things have been great, Timothée just met her parents and they absolutely loved him, telling Y/n how great he is and how well he carried himself at their dinner.

She met his parents as well, she was extremely nervous, but it went well. He told her afterward that they’d never reacted this nicely with any other girl he’d brought home, they thought she was pretty, nice, and charming.

They’ve been seen out together a handful of times, but it didn’t cause anything too crazy online, since they had filmed a whole movie together and have posted each other online before.

Y/n liked that she could still post the occasional photo or video of him, and whenever he posts a story of her, it just comes off as two friends hanging out. Which is true to an extent.

They’re in a news building right now, getting ready for their first interview of the press tour. She’s sitting next to their director, Aaliyah, and Timothée is on the other side.

They answer a handful of regular questions about the movie, making jokes here and there. Aaliyah gets a question primarily for her and Timothée takes the opportunity to lean back in his chair and make eye contact with Y/n behind Aaliyah. She raises her eyebrows at him, wondering what he wants.

He grins and sticks his tongue out at her, making her snort and shake her head.

He does little things like that throughout the day, poking her side, flipping her off, and even sneaking a quick glance at her boobs making her jokingly roll her eyes.

“You're a sick fuck.” She says at the end of the day as they head into the elevator to get to their shared room.

“What did I do? I'm just a chill guy.” He sarcastically says, pushing their floor number.

She laughs, “Shut the fuck up.” he chuckles and as soon as the doors close completely he grabs her face, kissing her fervently.

She hums and kisses him back, her hands tangling in his hair, tugging on the strands gently.

He pulls away and sighs against her lips, “Been wanting to do that all day.”

She smiles and quickly kisses him again before the doors to their floor open.

He takes her hand in his and walks to their room, swiping the card to unlock it.

The weeks pass and they get used to acting like nothing more than just friends for the interviews, maybe a little flirting here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary for them.

Timothée is always touch starved throughout the days, but sharing a room with her every night makes it worth the wait.

Today, they have a few fun one on one interviews, the first one being a 'friendship test'

“Hi! I'm Y/n L/n.”

“And I'm Timothée Chalamet. And this is the friendship test.” He said, interrupted by Y/n giggling.

“You said that really seriously, it was weird.” She laughs, nudging his arm.

“Oh, my bad.” He chuckles, admiring her for a second.

She smiles and looks at the card in her hand, “Do you remember when and how you guys first met?” She reads, looking back up at him with a smirk.

He hums and thinks for a moment, having to look away from her to resist the urge to kiss her. He puts his finger on his chin to make it seem like he's thinking about it, which makes her laugh again.

“I do, I remember being reallyyyy fucking nervous because it was you, and you're awesome and brilliant and extremely talented. I remember thinking you probably wouldn't talk to me off camera.” Y/n says, blushing at the memory, “But then you came into the room and you were the nicest dude ever! You introduced yourself like you weren't literally Paul Atreides, and then you asked if I wanted to get lunch with you in the cafeteria. Which really helped for our chemistry on set and everything.” She finished.

“You know what's crazy? I was nervous to meet you because I had already seen your audition tape and you were just fucking spectacular that I thought I'd look stupid next to you.” He laughs, Y/n's mouth drops at his words.

“Don't play with me, bro!” She says, he chuckles and shakes his head.

“I'm so serious. I knew you were extremely talented from the second they showed me your tape.” He shrugs, crossing his arms and meeting her eyes.

Y/n pouts, “You never told me that.”

Timothée eyes her mouth and bites his lip before responding, “Well we never talked about this before.”

“That's true. Okay okay, your turn.” She says, watching him grab his card and scan over it.

“Best moment together outside of filming?” He reads, they both smirk as a rush of other kinds of memories fill their minds.

They make eye contact and burst out laughing, Y/n shoving Timothée while laughing, “There's so many.” Y/n says, trying to make their laughing seem normal.

“So so many.” Timothée helps as he leans back towards Y/n, and then feigns thinking.

“Ummm, I'm thinking of when you went to that Sabrina Carpenter concert with me instead because my friend flaked on me and you let me serenade you the whole time.” She replies, trying to think of one that was innocent and doesn't expose that they're dating.

“Awww I was thinking the same thing.” He says, touching her arm.

“Were you really?!?!” She asks, surprised.

“No.”

She rolls her eyes and lightly shoves him with her shoulder, “Well I like that one. It was still pretty early on too, like we only knew each other a month or two by that point, but you still came with me.” She smiles, “What would you say, then?”

Timothée hums, “How about when we had that movie night, and I met your cat and you cooked for me? You made that one puerto rican dish, remember? I'm forgetting the name.”

Y/n smiles at the memory, that was the night that she knew she liked him more than a friend. He was so cute and respectful, he even had a second plate.

She blushes at the fact that he thinks of that as one of their best memories.

“Yeah, I wanna change my answer to that one too, actually.” She giggles, Timothée watches her carefully before looking back at the cards in front of them.

Y/n clears her throat as they switch to standing face to face for the next exercise.

“We're gonna have you guys compliment each other, you can write them down on those cards.” A crew member explains as he hands them markers to write with.

“Wait, y/n turn around, so we don't see what we're writing.” Timothée says, grabbing her shoulders and turning her away from him, he turns himself too as he starts writing.

“Wait oh my god, you're writing so quickly.” Y/n giggles, “There's just soooo many amazing qualities that I have, huh?” She teases, jokingly flipping her hair.

Timothée laughs, “There really are.”

She blushes at that as she writes down her compliments. “Okay, I'm ready when you are, Timmy.” She smirks, knowing how much he likes when she calls him that, maybe just not right now.

Timothée groans and turns around in sync with her. “You can go first, y/n/n.”

She sighs and reads her card, “I wrote that you're a very kind and generous person. You always look out for the people you care about. Which I find very admirable.” She says, smiling at the way his eyes soften at her words.

“Thank you.” He appreciates, “Um, I wrote that I love how good you smell.”

It's quiet for a second until y/n speaks, “Are you serious?” She wonders.

“No.” He shakes his head, making her laugh, her booming laugh echoing across the room. Y/n once again shoves him as she laughs, Timothée snorts and watches as she calms down, patiently waiting with a small smile on his face.

“I'm sorry, T. Go ahead.” She giggles, wiping her eyes.

“I actually wrote that I love your laugh. I like how when something is really funny to you, you basically lose all sense of mobility and just shove the person closest to you. And your laugh always fills the room with so much delight and makes everyone else happy too. It's never a bad thing to make others cheerful.” He finishes, seeing her smile widen at his words.

“Thank you, Timothée. You don't even know how many times I've gotten crazy looks because of my laugh.” She grins, he huffs and shakes his head at that.

“People just hate happiness, I swear. Your laugh is adorable.”

“Thank you.” She blushes and looks down at her card, “My other one that I wrote was that you're very witty. You always know how to lighten the mood and make someone feel better when they're down.”

“I try my best.” He nonchalantly says.

“Well, you're really good at it. You've helped me a couple times!” She says, placing her hand on his arm.

“Thank you, thank you.” He responds, running a hand through his hair. “I also wrote that I love how confident you are. You never let anyone harsh your mellow, and you're extremely comfortable in your own skin.”

“Well, that's what a lifetime of bullying does to a person.” She replies, jokingly shaking her head.

“Stop, were you actually bullied?” He asks, reaching over to comfortingly rub her arm.

“Oh yeah, to this day!” She laughs it off.

“Why would they bully you?” He asks in genuine disbelief.

She shrugs, “Too weird or something, who knows?”

“Well, I love you just the way you are.” He says, she blushes and leans over to nuzzle her head against his shoulder for a second.

“Awwww thank you Timmy, I love you too.” She smiles, his cheeks redden at that and he sighs.

The next exercise is a mind meld, they have to name the same things at the same time.

“Okay, condiments.” She says, and he nods, “on three… one, two, three. Ketchup!”

“Ketchup!” They say in unison, Timothée cheers and jumps around, making her laugh.

“Dude, we're literally so in sync.”

Timothée agrees and places his hands on her shoulder, shaking her a bit as he jumps up and down excitedly. “We're not done, T. Your turn.”

“Right, right…. okay a color. One, two, three- green!”

“Green!” They once again say in sync.

“Bro!” He exclaims, clapping as she giggles.

“Bab- bro we're so.. mind melded.” She catches herself, making him laugh.

“Hell yeah we are! Let's finish strong. Animals!”

“Okay okay, one, two, three- Giraffe!”

“Whale shark!” He says at the same time that she says giraffe, she frowns and stares him down.

“Why the fuck would anyone say a whale shark?!” She questions, he sighs and defeatedly lays on the ground, jokingly putting his arm over his eyes.

“Just leave.” He jokes, Y/n snorts and lightly kicks at his legs.

“Come on, we're gonna get this on the second try, watch.”

“Join me down here.” He says, peeking up at her, she giggles and jokingly groans as she sits down next to him.

“Okay, one two three- elephant!”

“Peacock!” He yells, y/n frustratedly sighs, putting her face in her hands.

“Timothée! Once again, why is peacock the first animal you thought of?!” She teases, he laughs and sits up.

“I don't know!” He chuckles, admiring her as she sighs.

“Okay, third time’s the charm! Let's think more domestic, okay?” She says, meeting his eyes, he nods, “one.. two.. three- cat!”

“Cat!” he says, y/n cheers and lunges forward, tackling him to the floor.

“THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT!” She exclaims as Timothée laughs, wrapping his arms around her. “We're literally the most mind-melded people ever.” She jokes as she pulls away.

Timothée grins, “I think it's safe to say that we passed the friendship test.”

“Oh yeah, with flying colors.” She knowingly smiles and takes his hand to help him up.

~~

After filming that, they have a one hour break for lunch and Timothée keeps trying to hold her hand and kiss her in risky places.

“I miss youuuu.” He whines as they walk down the hall.

“Baby, we've been together all day.” She giggles as he intertwines their fingers.

“I know, but-” She's cut off by him pushing her into a private bathroom, “Timothée!” She exclaims, turning to face him.

“Yeah, but it’s literally torture not being able to kiss you whenever I want… and do other things.” He complains, pouting at her.

“I'm sorry! I just wanna make out with my girl for a minute or two pleaseeeeee.” He begs, softly kissing her cheek.

“You're such a horny little fucker.” She giggles as he kisses down her neck.

“I didn't say I wanted to fuck… unless you want to.” He suggestively says, raising an eyebrow.

“You know what, you did say for a minute or two…. you'd still have about a minute for cleanup. Give or take.” She teases, he playfully tugs on her hair at that.

“Funny.” He says, and then leans in to kiss her, sliding a tongue between her soft lips.

She moans and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He groans and lifts her to sit on the sink, she chuckles into it and wraps her legs around him. He rubs his crotch against hers and she pulls away.

“Don't get any ideas baby, we're not having a quickie right now.” She mumbles against his lips.

He sighs, “No no, of course not. Just a fun little makeout of course.” He goes back to her lips as she giggles.

His hands respectfully stay on her thighs, squeezing them occasionally as they kiss passionately for another minute or two before reluctantly pulling apart.

“I guess we should go eat.” He says begrudgingly, helping her off the sink.

“Yeah I guess so.” She says, reaching forward to fix the collar of his shirt.

He smiles lightly and gently rubs some smeared lip gloss from underneath her lip before opening the door for her.

“After our last interview today, I'm all yours tonight.” She promises as they walk down the hall.

When the video posts a couple of days later, Y/n watches it in their hotel room while Timothée is showering. She laughs at how cute they are and can't help but love how it's kind of obvious that they're together… or maybe not.

She's reading the comments when Timothėe comes out in only his underwear, his hair dripping as he sits down beside her, kissing her head before speaking.

“What you doing?” He mumbles, looking at her laptop.

“Mmmm, reading the comments on that friendship test we did.” She says, he chuckles and leans in closer so he can read them too.

THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HERRRRR

BRO HES IN LOVE W HER ISTGGGG

or maybe they're just friends promoting their movie..

THAT FACE SHE MADE AFTER HE SAID HIS BEST MEMORY W HER OH M HHHGGH SHE LIKES HIM FR

the way for his compliments he said he “loved” them… oh he wants her

that was so funny when she tackled him to the ground, BUT THEN HE HUGGED HER 🥺🥺😭😭😭😭 she's so lucky

HE SAID HER LAUGH IS ADORABLE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“You in love with me, Timmy?” She says softly, he laughs and turns his eyes away from the screen to her.

She smiles and kisses his lips, setting the laptop on the dresser as he slowly deepens the kiss.

He caresses her face, “Of course... How couldn't I be?”

“I love you.” She moans as he kisses her neck, he sensually licks at it before softly sucking a small purple spot onto an exposed spot. “Timmyyyy, people will see.” She whines, but doesn't make any effort to stop him.

“Mmmm, let them, you can do me next.” He mutters, nipping at the collar of her shirt. She giggles, tangling her hand in his hair. “I love you, y/n/n. These past few months have been the best of my life.” He says, his lips now centimeters away from hers as he speaks.

“You still want it all with me, baby?” She wonders, he nods and pecks her lips, pulling her to lay on top of him.

“Of course I do.”

*

[mythicmanuscripts]

omg omg hi, I don't know what to request, I simply am happy that you are back.

Hmm.... Something with subby Aemond... Could you elaborate on the collar (you said that it needed to be something that he would never have to take of, so somethin simpel like a necklace). What if he lost it during battle? What if his wife also started to wear jewelery as a symbol of their partnership? Like maybe exclusively saphire pendants or something like that.

thx xoxo

Thank you for the kind words!! I'm very glad to be back.

Honestly I can't really remember the ask you're referring to (if someone finds it could you tag me or something? I'd love to reread it at some point), but I'll never turn down an opportunity to chat about collars or any sort of jewellery representing dynamics so I'm very happy to discuss thoughts about Aemond and collars/jewellery :))

This answer isn't explicit but since it's very very clearly sub!aemond I'll add a cut to be safe. Enjoy lads!!

So firstly I think Aemond would absolutely love to have something that felt like ownership? He wants to be yours, and he wants a physical reminder of it.

I think maybe you first saw a glimpse of this desire the morning after your first rougher night with him? He got up before you and you awoke to the site of him standing before a mirror and tracing the outline of the scratches on his hips and the bruises on his collar bones. At first you think he doesn't like it and offer to call the maesters to see what will heal it quicker, but he shuts that down immediately.

He gets all squirmy and blushy, not quite being willing to meet your eyes and eventually you manage to get out of him that he really likes the marks. For a few weeks it goes on like that, with you ensuring to leave marks on him because he seems to love it.

Eventually you start to realise he loves the physical reminder, not only of what happened when he got those marks but also as a reminder that you love him, that he's yours. You really only put that together when you realise how protective he seems of any evidence of you? He tells off the servants who move your brush back to your private quarters, he keeps your favourite book on his nightstand even though he never reads it.

The first thing you offer him to try and meet this need is maybe just a piece of a clothing item? It happens while the two of you are walking together, far away from Kings Landing. Aemond often asks you to come out on Vhagar with him, simply to fly somewhere quiet where no one can hear you.

You're walking along a rocky terrain and you put your foot wrong and nearly fall. You catch yourself, but your shirt or dress gets caught on the branch of a small bush. You don't mind the tear of course, it's of no real consequence, you have plenty of other clothes back at the red keep anyway. But Aemond seems distraught about this? He asked you to come with him and now you're ruined your clothes because of him.

You end up taking your knife/dagger and cutting the torn piece of fabric off so it's not just hanging. That action seems to upset Aemond even more, since now the tear can't ever be sown back together. That is, until you take his hand and tie the fabric around his wrist, telling him that there, now the fabric isn't going to waste.

You do it mostly as a silly thing, not something you expected him to seriously cherish. But the following day he still hasn't taken it off, and he doesn't take it off the next day nor the day after that.

When you ask him about it, he actually panics a little, mumbling about how you gave it to him and please don't take it back. Repeating that you said it was his, he wants to keep it.

Which... sometimes Aemond truly is one of the most sensitive, sweet souls in all of the seven kingdoms. You promise him you will never take it from him, and tell him you're glad he likes it.

A few weeks later you present him with a bracelet inspired by the piece of fabric. Except the bracelet is made of dyed leather, iron and jewels, not fabric. It's in the same colours as the fabric, but this is made to last must longer. Aemond cries for a solid twenty minutes when you give it to him. It takes him nearly a week to stop tearing up every time he looks at his wrist. And yes he knows you're already married and you already wear rings and whatnot, but that was an arranged marriage. He didnt love you back then, he didnt want to be yours back then. To him the wedding rings show the world he is married, but the bracelet is just for him, just to show him that he belongs to you.

Needless to say, he'd be absolutely distraught if he lost it.

It would definitely have to be lost in battle, because that's the only time he wouldn't automatically notice if the bracelet isn't around his wrist. When he does notice, his stomach drops. He feels so... exposed? He gets back to kings landing as quickly as possible. When he walks to your chambers he has his other hand around his wrist, like he's trying to hide not having the bracelet on.

Of course you're not at all upset with him. He returned from battle unharmed, that is all you care about. But despite that, he can't settle without it and you can't let him go back to flying the largest dragon in the world when he can't even think straight. You end up cutting another piece of fabric out of one of your clothes for him, this time cutting it long enough that you can wrap it around his wrist three times before tying the ends together.

You can see the way he relaxes once it's done. He leans against you, mumbling his thanks against your neck.

When he leaves again, you arrange for a new bracelet to be made, but this time you decide to get more than just that. You also get two necklaces, one short and one long and then another bracelet made as well.

You present the replacement bracket together with the longer necklace to Aemond when he returns. He had been hoping and praying you'd give him another bracelet (part of him feared you'd be so disappointed that he lost the first one that you wouldnt get him another and that would just break him).

He's entirely shocked when you give him the necklace, and even more shocked when you show him that you had another one made for yourself. When he looks closer at the necklace then he gets confused at first, because it doesn't match the bracelet and necklace you got him? It's made of the same metal, but yours have sapphires.

When he asks about, you simply run cup his face, stroking his cheek under his eyepatch. You watch as his other eye tears up at the realisation of why you chose what you did. He adores it, and he's so so gentle when he puts the necklace and bracelet on you, his hands shaking so much that he has to stop and try again.

You always wear the necklace, and Aemond adores seeing it on you, especially in public? In private he'll often run his fingers over the sapphire, even lean down and kiss it. But in public, just glancing at you and seeing it is more than enough to make him smile.