#you were my very best friend for over a year

[somanyquestions-featuringanxiety]

Thx for the tag!! Here we go…

1. The Umbrella Academy, Angel The Series and Torchwood

2. They’re long and pale pink and have sparkly hedgehogs on them!

3. I LOVE smoothies, especially anything with berries!

4. Usually a pretty dress, sometimes a nice skirt and top

5. Eggs are amazing in all forms, but my fav is soft boiled with soldiers!

6. A bookmark?? Like a normal person???

7. My wardrobe is very colourful, I’m not really sure!

8. I don’t really collect anything, though I like to own copies of my favourite books

9. I have a comforting playlist which is my go to, and I find the smell of lavender calming too :)

10. Like the ones that ask you what you most relate to or what you feel best represents you

11. No, but I think glasses are super pretty!

12. I love her kindness and genuine love and concern for me and all her other friends, it’s really beautiful

13. Pen all the way, and it has to be blue or black!

14. Definitely my mum’s house and specifically my bedroom, but also probably my school

15. I have ZERO house plants because I have ZERO gardening skills, but I have a few fake plants (I KNOW ITS CHEATING BUT I CANNOT KEEP ANY PLANTS ALIVE OK 😭)

16. My fav hoodie is pink and fluffy and has rabbits on the back!!! I’ve had it for around four years I think, and one time I wore it camping and a small chunk of burning wood flew from the campfire and landed on my sleeve, so now it’s got a hole, but I still love it :D

17. A bunch of ink refills for my fav pens

18. Honestly anything in the renaissance era, specifically anything Leonardo da Vinci related, I’m super nerdy about him lol

19. That time two years ago when me and a friend dressed up as Aziraphale and Crowley (I got to be Aziraphale!!!)

20. Tbh I’m really good at maths, but idk which kind (she says while on the verge of tears due to a maths problem)

21. I’m not much of an artist but like I already said ik a huge nerd about Leonardo da Vinci so I guess his works interest me? I do like the renaissance style

22. Iced!

23. Whatever I feel like that day! It varies all the time, but my go to is anything by The Crane Wives (my fav band)

24. Don’t have my licence yet

25. No, and I don’t think I’ll ever get any (maybe my ears pierced if I ever get over my INTENSE fear of needles)

26. I am not particularly good at cooking or baking, but I do like to bake the occasional cake or some biscuits!

27. My home keys are on a keychain with a clear shell thing full of water and blue glitter, it’s really pretty!

28. My swimming level is like… not drowning. But I’m weak as fuck, have no coordination, terrible technique and I’m slow as hell

29. I had a TON of Lego when I was younger, and most of it is disassembled in boxes now except my fav sets which were all the Harry Potter ones, especially the burrow!

30. Yes, one side is uniform, T-shirts, long pants and skirts, the other is everything else, and within both sides everything is sorted by colour

31. I’ve genuinely got no idea, I hardly ever watch music videos

32. I’d probably do some pale pink streaks!

33. Headphones all the way!!!

34. Yes

35. A rabbit a very crafty friend of mine crocheted for me , except one of its arms is almost completely falling off now since it’s over a year old and I cannot sew for the life of me

36. I like to think l’m pretty good at air hockey, though I don’t know how accurate that is

37. I can stand it, but I prefer to have it just be me while either watching tv or listening to music while doing it

38. My fav show ever is Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and though some of my friends have watched a bit none of them really like it and it makes me so sad :(

39. Watching doctor who and eating dinner

40. Idk, probs willow trees (because I ADORE willow from BTVS but also because they’re pretty)

41. Coconut vanilla!

42. I have a few, like cookie run kingdom and geometry dash, but I haven’t played them in ages

43. Definitely on, but I’ve been curious about what it’s like with the lights off

44. Stick it in my purse and hope I remember it’s there when I need it (I don’t)

45. Yeah it’s pretty good! Definitely fluctuates a lot though depending on the speed and size I’m writing and how much effort I can be bothered to put into it

46. I don’t know if this is the latest but my fav band was introduced to me via a friend, and it was one of the best things to ever happen to me

47. Short, easy, pretty walks? Yes. Hilly hike things where’s its stupidly hot, ugly and the middle of nowhere? Absolutely not

48. Yes, a pretty pink bowl with cool patterns on it

49. Sit in bed and read!! Bonus points if it’s cold enough for an open fire

50. Under one soft blanket, in soft loose long sleeved pyjamas, a bit of background noise coming from outside my room but nothing loud, cool temperature, knowing I have no alarm tmrw

Whew, did them all!

No pressure tags (I know this was long but it’s super fun!)

@niamhings @amy-harper @hawthorne-swift-enthusiasttt @yourlocalchronicdaydreamer @yourlocalwhovian @n3rdchi1d + anyone who wants to!

50 Questions Just Because

What are three shows in your watchlist that you’ve been meaning to get to?

Describe your favorite pair of socks

Do you like smoothies?

What do you wear when you have to dress nicely?

How do you like your eggs?

What do you use to keep your place when you’re reading a book?

What color dominates your closet?

Do you collect anything? If so, what?

What sounds or scents calm you down?

What’s your favorite kind of uquiz question? (Lyric, color, aesthetic, etc)

Do you wear glasses or contacts?

What’s something about your best friend that you love?

Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?

What are some places where you feel most at home?

Do you have any houseplants? Do any of them have names?

Describe your favorite hoodie. How long have you had it? What makes it unique?

What’s the last thing you ordered online?

What’s one historical event that you would have liked to have witnessed?

What’s your favorite Halloween costume from when you were a kid?

What kind of math are you best at?

What’s your favorite period in art history, your favorite famous work and/or your favorite style of art? If you don’t know any that’s ok!

Iced or hot drinks?

Which songs do you like to sing in the shower?

Are you a good driver?

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Are there any that you want?

Can you cook or bake? If so, what are some of your specialties?

Do you have any keychains on your home or car keys? Describe them!

Can you swim very well? Do you like swimming?

Did you play with Legos as a kid? What was your favorite set?

Is your closet organized? If so, how?

What’s the last music video you watched?

If you could dye your hair any color, regardless of how you think it would look, what color would you choose?

Headphones or earbuds?

Can you read analog clocks?

Describe your favorite stuffed animal, either now or from when you were a kid.

What’s an arcade or table game (air hockey, ping pong, etc) that you’re really good at?

Do you mind if others are in the kitchen when you’re cooking or baking?

What’s one show you watch or musician you listen to that your friends know nothing about?

What was the best part of your day today?

What’s your favorite kind of tree?

What scent is your deodorant?

Do you have any games on your phone? If so, which one(s) is/are your favorite?

Do you shower with the lights on or off?

What do you do with spare change?

Do you have good handwriting?

What’s the last thing a friend recommended to you that you looked into and actually liked?

Do you like to go on walks?

Do you have a favorite plate or bowl?

What’s your favorite thing to do when it’s raining?

Describe your perfect sleeping conditions

[museiest]

WE'RE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER .ᐟ gojo satoru

PAIRING. ceo!gojo x kindergarten teacher!reader

ABOUT. ceo!gojo discovers he has a son which leads him to the harmony fields kindergarten, where the woman who almost ran into him with her car in the morning is his son's teacher and the cause of his future sleepless nights.

NOTES. it's finally here!! had some trouble with the written part of this smau so that's why i took so long in posting it, this was the winner in this poll. this is a multi-part smau. harmony fields is the name of the kindergarten.

WARNINGS. enemies to lovers ⋆ typos ⋆ ignore timestamps ⋆ english is not my first language ⋆ written part (is sh!t y'all) ⋆ gojo's is insufferable ⋆ utahime's the owner of harmony fields ⋆ written part takes place a day after the incident and it's 1,04k words.

part one | part two | part three | more?

“Okay. . .remember what we practiced?” the white-haired man immediately asked as he helped the boy out of his car.

The kid nodded slowly and looked up at Satoru, waiting for him to hand over the chips he bought for him on the way here.

“I’ll give them to you, kid, but first, let’s practice one more time,” Satoru warned, “You're going to say that i'm your dad and that your mom is away on a trip, 'kay?”

“But you said that you weren't my dad, and my mom isn’t on a trip,” the boy pointed out seriously, making the blue-eyed man sigh.

“Just say it, please? if you don’t, i’ll take you to the police station and let them deal with you," Satoru threatened with a unsettling smile.

“He’s my dad, and my mom is away on a trip,” Megumi repeated, irritated by the man.

Truth is, he missed his mom and he wished she was there with him instead of the stranger who was taking care of him now.

“Yes! Good boy,” Satoru ruffled the Megumi’s hair like he was petting a dog, he definitely wasn't used to dealing with kids, especially one his age.

How do you even treat a five-year old? Was what had been going through Gojo's head since his son arrived at his apartment.

“Ah, Gojo! Right on time, looks like having a son is finally doing you some good,” Utahime called out as she walked towards the entrance of her kindergarten, where the dad and son duo were.

“Utahime, my least favorite person! it's been, what? two months?" he sneered.

“It’s always such a disgrace seeing you, Gojo," she said bitterly before putting on her best smile and looking at the five-year-old, “And you must be Megumi, right?”

“He’s my dad, and my mom is on a trip,” Megumi stated almost robotically, making the Harmony Field's director laugh.

“Wow, how cool!” she exclaimed, gesturing for them to follow her inside.

“Yeah, his mom is at a seminar in Europe,” the ceo lied smoothly.

“Europe? You must be very proud, Megumi,” the dark-haired woman tried to make some chitchat but Megumi remained silent, walking behind them as quietly as possible.

“’Gumi doesn’t talk much, but it’s something i- we’ve been working on. . .” Satoru excused himself with another lie, though Utahime barely paid attention, too focused on you approaching. It was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the new dad and the new kid joining your class.

“Yn! Come over here, this is Gojo Satoru and his son, Megumi,” Utahime introduced, making your eyes widen in surprise as soon as you locked eyes with the man you almost hit with your car on your way to the kindergarten.

“You?/You?” you both said at the same time, his eyes sharp enough that if looks could kill, you'd be in a coffin with people saying how good of a person you were; and you just forced a polite smile to hide your annoyance at seeing him at your workplace, such arrogant man didn't seem like a father to you, not even a bad one, he just seemed like the kind of guy who didn't care for kids at all but there he was, putting on his best smile with his son who didn't look like him at all except for his eyes and messy hair.

“You two know each other?” your friend and colleague asked, looking between you both expectantly.

“Yeah. . .turns out this dad likes to go running in the middle of the street in the morning,” you muttered through gritted teeth, making the man scoff.

“Right. And it seems like there's more and more of those crazy drivers these days, dangerous, isn’t it?” Satoru shot back. You barely heard Utahime’s response, too focused on the annoyance bubbling inside you. Who did this guy think he was? He had to be some kind of irresponsible deranged idiot.

You rolled your eyes once more before glancing down and noticing the little boy looking at you curiously.

You crouched down to meet his eyes and be able to speak to him directly, the first impression with children was always the most important to you rather than the one with the parent, “Hi, sweetheart! you must be Megumi, how are you?” you asked kindly, you've loved kids since forever and it didn’t matter that this particular kid belonged to the most insufferable man you'd ever met.

Megumi’s eyes looked sad, distant and lost, as if all he wanted was to be anywhere but here. Still, you tried talking to him, sensing his struggle in interacting with people.

When he didn’t respond, you continued, “You know, in the classroom there's lots of kids your age who can’t wait to meet you. They’ve been so excited ever since we told them a new friend for them was coming. And guess what? Today’s your lucky day because we have a special activity with puppies! How does that sound?” you asked with a warm smile and at the mention of 'puppies,' Megumi’s eyes lit up, an expression of excitement appearing on his face for the first time since he got there along with a soft smile. Even Satoru seemed surprised to see it, he hadn't smiled at all when he was at his apartment and now he does with a complete stranger? not that he wasn't one either but the father (if you could call him that) had tried everything the day before to make the kid laugh and all he got was a 'you're not funny' from him.

“Are there really going to be puppies?” Megumi asked, a special glimmer in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Of course! So what do you say? Want to wait for them with the other kids?” you asked, extending your hand to his smaller one. Megumi glanced between his dad and you before nodding and taking your hand with a small smile still on his lips and that was the first step to make this kid as happy as he could be.

Without hesitation, you led him towards the rest of the class, happy that your first interaction with the boy had been a success. You just hoped things would stay that way, today, tomorrow and hopefully forever.

ARTIFACTS .ᐟ

• hari fushiguro is megumi's aunt, she's took care of him for two weeks and that was it. she didn't have enough money to raise him and her daughter so she went to gojo's apt since she remembered he had a lot of money when they hooked up and made up a story about her sister and him.

• toji's dead and tsumiki doesn't exist in this one since toji died before megumi was born.

• his mom died two weeks ago but since he's still a kid, he doesn't know how to process it so he thinks his mom left him and that's why his aunt didn't want him either.

• ofc gojo isn't his father but they make him believe he is.

• that's all!! enjoy <3

© MUSEIEST 2025

[ace-turned-confused]

love thy neighbour

joel masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader summary: you visit your parents for the holidays, and their new neighbour joel miller makes the trip far more exciting. word count: 3,6k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a skirt, food & alcohol consumption, christmas & new year celebrations, unspecified age gap, joel gets a sneak peak, smut, fingering, unprotected p in v, spanking, creampie hallelujah, come eating, dirty talk, praise kink a/n: MERRY VERY LATE SECRET SANTA EM @hellfire-state-of-mind !!!! this is over a month late and i've never felt more guilty about something in my life. ilsm you are a GEM! i hope this makes you twirl your hair and kick your feet and melt into a puddle, as you requested. 💛 this is the first fic i’ve managed to finish since SEPTEMBER and idk i’m just proud of myself, times are tough. 🫡 not beta'd

The neighbourhood has hardly changed since your last visit — no fresh coats of paint, no new landscaping, no new drama. The one thing that has changed, is a new face that’s moved in across the street from your parents. He waved to you the first time you passed each other, flashed a contagious smile and a cheeky wink as he collected his post and headed back inside his own home. You’ve been hooked since then.

Your childhood bedroom has a wide window that faces the street, with a clear view of the front of his house. Whether arriving home or leaving, or simply standing talking to someone, you always admired him. You made a habit of going out too — sometimes for no real reason — on the off chance you’d get a closer look at him.

He caught you staring one day as you dared to walk on his side of the street and met him in his driveway — brown tangled curls laced with silver, broad shoulders and arms that filled out his sleeves — you shot your eyes up before you could look any lower, a small smirk and knowing look on his face as he turned around to walk away. He hasn’t given you his name and you haven’t been bold enough to ask. You still stare, just not when he’s looking.

-

Your parents told you the house would be quiet this Christmas, with no extended family or friends — just the three of you spending some quality time together while you’re visiting for the holidays.

It's mid-Christmas morning and you’ve exchanged presents with your parents, with plenty of smiles, hugs and thanks. Your mom sets the table and your dad checks on the food while you get ready for lunch, still wanting to dress nice for the occasion. You hear the doorbell ring through your door, followed by muffled voices. Satisfied with your appearance, you head for the living room, a deep and unfamiliar voice becoming clearer as you enter the room.

There he is — the hot and mysterious neighbour you’ve been drooling over from across the road.

Your mom turns to you as you stand, fiddling with your clothes and unsure how to act.

“Oh, you’re finished! This is Joel, have you met already?”

“No, haven’t had the pleasure,” Joel cuts in and answers for you, standing before you with an outstretched hand. You take it, his hand dwarfing yours, calloused fingers rough against your palm.

“He’s on his own for Christmas, so I invited him to join us.” Your mom smiles at you. “It’s only us three, there’s plenty of food and Christmas cheer to go around!” She claps her hands together, waltzing away to the table.

Joel gives you that same cheeky wink and smile you’ve seen before, but up close it has a much stronger effect than you were prepared for — it’s going to be a long day.

-

Everyone sticks to the usual mundane topics of the weather and traffic and the best fertiliser to use for the lawn. You don’t say too much through lunch, distracted by Joel’s voice and charm and the occasional smouldering look he throws you. Every time you glance at him, he’s already staring at you.

When your parents get up to clear the table once everyone’s well-fed, you jump up instead and volunteer — if you have to watch Joel any longer you might just jump at him across the table, to hell with your parents. His eyes follow you over their shoulders as you leave the room, plates in hand. You look back to the table one last time, catching his eye as he smirks and takes a swig of his drink.

You start to rinse off the plates and put leftovers into containers, laughter and quiet chatter sounding from the dining room. Joel wanders into the kitchen and sets his glass down, leaning against the counter next to you and looking around the room.

“So, uh,” you clear your throat, awkwardly trying to make conversation and avoid embarrassing yourself. “When did you move here?”

“Couple months ago, nice neighbourhood… even better now, though.” You can see him grinning in your peripheral vision.

“Are you coming to my parents’ New Year’s Eve party?”

“I am, why? You lookin’ for your midnight kiss?” he teases.

“I have plans already,” you scoff at him, “I actually wanna have fun on New Year’s, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” he falls silent and angles himself closer to you. “You make the dessert?”

“Mhm.”

“Nice ��n sweet.” He grabs the dessert bowl from your hands and drags two fingers along the inside.

You watch him, your lips parting as he sucks his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. What would it feel like if those were your fingers instead? Or, better yet, if he shoved his fingers into your mouth?

He pulls his fingers out and opens his mouth to say something more, but he’s interrupted by your parents as they enter the room. He shoots you his signature wink before giving them his attention, and that’s the last you see of him.

-

The week after Christmas flashes by.

You bailed on your original plans of partying with your friends, coughing up a poor excuse why you couldn't go out with them anymore — with Joel coming to your parents' house again, it’s the first time in years you're willing to spend the otherwise boring last night of the year at home. Maybe you’re foolish for lusting after him, but that’s what New Year’s is for.

After spending the afternoon plating snacks, chilling drinks and fluffing pillows, you now pace in your room, deciding what to wear tonight. Your pre-picked club outfit is far too disrespectful for the new company you’ll be in tonight, but maybe you could make parts of it work…

You ditch the stockings and swap out the heels for flats. Your skirt stops mid-thigh once you make some adjustments, and change your risque top for a more neighbour-friendly one with ties in the front — if you look hard enough you can still spot your bra peeking through the gaps, but nobody here tonight should be doing that anyways. Except for Joel, maybe. You make sure it’s a decent bra in case he does. After all the effort you’ve gone through, you hope he does.

Hijacking the aux as soon as you come out into the living room again — you do not trust your dad’s music choices — you sit pretty with a drink in hand as everyone from up and down the street starts arriving.

You’re cornered by The Nosy Old Couple, getting grilled about jobs, partners and general life choices when Joel walks in. He looks around the room as your parents greet him, eyes finding yours as you try signalling him to rescue you. He simply smirks before turning and walking away — that bastard.

-

Joel watches you the whole night. He really shouldn’t — the neighbour's daughter, definitely too pretty and likely too young — but he can't find it in himself to care. What's the harm in a bit of holiday fun?

He could have saved you from that gruelling conversation, but then he’d have to let you go sooner. And it would look rude, strange, even, to tell your father, thanks for the welcome, but I’d rather spend the night chattin’ up your daughter.

So he settles for watching, for now at least.

The shift from a forced smile to a genuine one, your shoulders relaxing as you get yourself another drink and keep yourself in decent company. His eyes roam now, and he allows himself to stare while in your calm state, the same way you’ve always stared at him from across the street.

The way your lips part and slide over the rim of your glass, the delicate grip of your fingers, the hint of lacy fabric in the gaps in your top. Your almost-too-short skirt and how it hikes up when you cross your legs. Would you let him pull the ties loose and watch it fall open? Glide his hands up your legs and underneath your skirt?

You stand and laugh at someone's joke, reaching for your things. Something falls out of your grasp and you bend over to pick it up, your panties peeking out from underneath your skirt, just for him to see. His jeans tighten just so, the air in the room heating up as he clears his throat. He should look away, but he keeps staring, his own lips parting now as he imagines what’s beneath that fabric.

You turn around and catch his eye, all unassuming and innocent. He wonders if you know what you’ve done. You walk towards him, maintaining that look, and it’s evident you’re unaware. He’ll make sure to tell you.

-

Most of the night has passed already, and you finally get to talk to Joel.

“So much for those plans you had for tonight.” He leans towards you as people push past behind him, raising his voice above the music.

“Oh, uh, my friends cancelled, so…”

“Still hopin’ for a night of fun?”

“Are you offering?”

He downs the rest of his drink, jaw ticked to one side as he stares you down. He dips to speak in your ear, “You should be careful next time you’re bendin’ over in this little skirt of yours, sweetheart… I could see those pretty panties from a mile away.”

You step back from him, mouth agape at his admission — he just smirks at you, his eyes darkening. You hoped Joel would look at you tonight, but it was a long shot. You're deciding what to say when everyone gathers in the lounge — your dad’s put a countdown on the TV, and it’s a minute before midnight. You pull Joel into the hallway, away from the crowd and out of sight.

“So, you gonna kiss me at midnight or not?” You spin to face him, leaning against the wall with a naughty smile.

“I reckon your parents won't be too pleased havin’ their daughter kissin’ an old man like me.” He stands firm, arms folded across his chest.

“Well, they wouldn’t be too happy having an old man like you looking up my skirt…” You trail off, distracted by his arms.

“You’re the dirty girl bendin’ over and flashin’ her panties. Would you have wanted me to look away?”

He unfolds his arms and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you to meet him as he leans to kiss you, his beard and moustache scratching against your skin and you reach up to hold his arms. It’s rushed and desperate and over before you can take in what’s happened, but god you need it to happen again.

He looks around at everyone cheering, hugging each other and topping up their drinks. He grabs your wrist and pulls you through the house without a word.

-

Joel sneaks you out of the house and drags you across the street towards his own. Your eyes linger on his shoulders and back as he unlocks his door. He turns a lamp on once inside and closes the door behind you both, pinning you against it.

“What are you doing?” You ask lazily, taking in his features in such close proximity.

“Givin’ you that night of fun you were wantin’.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth and taking his time now as he runs his hands down your body, lifting your skirt to bunch it around your waist. He pushes one hand down between your legs to cup you over your panties and you grind into him — subtly at first, but it’s enough for him to notice and he smiles against you.

“That needy already, huh?” He says lowly, huffing a laugh when you whimper quietly. “Don’t gotta be quiet, sweetheart. Why you think I dragged you here? Ain’t gonna be much fun if I can’t hear how good I make ya feel.”

He spins you around and walks you towards his couch, backing you into the armrest. He pulls the ties on your top and drops it to the floor, fixated on the lace now in full view. He squeezes your breasts, fingers tweaking your nipples through the fabric as he looks up at you again.

“You wear this lacy number every day? Or just on special occasions?”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, lips parted as he keeps working his fingers, “I wore it just for tonight, for you… in case you noticed it.”

“Oh, I noticed alright,” he chuckles.

His fingers slow down and his hands begin to roam again. You take the reprieve to lift his shirt over his head and drift your hands down his bare chest. You stare at his broad shoulders and torso, almost in awe, as you reach for his belt buckle and undo it. It clinks against the floor, and you make quick work of his jeans, popping the button and undoing the zip. He dips down to kiss you, his hands bumping into yours as he pulls his jeans down and off.

It was mostly a joke when you said you wanted a night of fun — you never expected something like this to happen.

Joel kisses you again, inching along your jaw and down your neck while his hands continue their blind exploration of your skin, caressing and groping and digging into any part of you he gets ahold of. You reach to palm his bulge through his underwear, hard and heavy as heat radiates off of him through the worn fabric.

He shucks your skirt down and off, leaving it in the same growing pile of clothes, his fingers zeroing in on your covered clit. You moan at his movements and he lifts off of you to take in the sight.

He grabs your waist to turn you around, holding you flush to him as he gropes your breasts and grinds into you. You push back against him, a fresh wave of arousal soaking into your panties, his hot breath fanning against the shell of your ear.

“You ready for that fun?”

“Please, Joel,” you whine.

“S’what I like to hear.”

He pushes you down over the arm of the couch, chest flush with the cushions and ass up in the air. He rubs his fingers up and down over the damp gusset of your panties and pulls them down, leaving them hanging around your knees. Now with no barrier, he traces a single finger through your folds, already sticky with need and prods your entrance before repeating the motion.

“Even prettier than that little preview you gave me, she’s soaked for me already.”

His breathing sounds laboured behind you, and you turn as best you can to watch him, eyes falling on his hand as he strokes himself, thick and throbbing.

“This what you wanted? This what you still want?”

You smile almost drunkardly at him, huffing a laugh as you nod, facing forward to rest your head on the couch again.

“Remember, I wanna hear all those noises you can make — dirty girl like you, I’m sure you sound gorgeous.”

He replaces his finger with the head of his cock, dragging himself against you and coating the length of him in your wetness. He slips in slowly, his hands in a bruising grip on your hips as he pulls out only to push in even further. The music from your parents’ party fades from your mind when he finally bottoms out; Joel sighs and you groan as he holds your ass flush against his hips. He stays there, grinding into you and never pulling back.

“Jesus, feels like heaven…”

All you do is whine in response — partly unsure if he wanted a response, and partly unable to say anything else — overwhelmed by Joel and finally getting what you’ve been dreaming of since you first laid eyes on him.

“How you want this, sweetheart?”

A moment passes and he smacks your ass when you don’t answer him. He leans over you, letting his body weight push you deeper into the couch cushions, pushing his cock deeper into you in the process.

“Cause this is how I see it… Your little friends didn’t cancel your plans, did they? They’re all still goin’ out on the town tonight and doing God knows what and fuckin’ anything with a pulse. But you backed out, thought maybe you’d stay home 'cause if there’s anyone you’re gonna fuck tonight, it’s me. Ain’t that right?”

You’re silent again, both annoyed that he has you figured out and relishing that he's on top of you like this.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He lifts himself off you and pulls almost all the way out, leaving just his tip inside your cunt. “Be good and I’ll give ya a real fun story for your friends.”

He spanks you again, giving you no time to react as he snaps his hips into you. You screw your face up at the stretch as he does it again and sets a steady rhythm, the room filled with gasps and grunts and heavy breathing. He smacks you a third time and you moan, loud and unabashedly and you hear Joel chuckling behind you.

“That’s it, good girl. Wanna hear you, sweetheart, hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

He’s reaching a spot nobody else has before — undoubtedly the most experienced man with the biggest dick you’ve ever seen — and you know your back is going to be fucked in the morning from how he’s got you draped over his couch, your hips will be tender for days with how tight he’s holding you, and you might not walk straight for a week, but God are you glad you bailed on those original plans.

As heavenly as it is already, you still need just that little bit more. Joel’s already clocked you once, and he’s done it again as he wraps an arm around your torso to pull you up again, his pace never faltering as he presses his chest to your back. The new angle has you seeing stars, and he pushes his free hand down to circle your clit.

“You hear that? Hear how wet you are? God, if I’d known you were gonna take my cock so well I woulda fucked you on Christmas… maybe even before that. You think anyone’s wonderin’ where we are? Anyone smart enough to put the pieces together?”

You clench around him at his lewd confessions and beg him to keep going, so close to reaching your end.

“You gonna come on my cock for me?” He breathes against you, his thrusts becoming clumsier the longer he goes on. “Come on, sweetheart, know you want to. Been such a good girl, lettin’ me fuck this sweet pussy.”

A few thrusts and swipes of his fingers over your clit later and you're tightening around him, head thudding against him as you reach up to grab the arm that’s wound around your chest. Your nails carve crescent moons in his skin and you yell out, and he keeps pistoning into you through your orgasm to chase his own.

His filthy words turn into mere ramblings, muffled when he lowers his face to drag his lips against your skin and breathe you in, tightening his arms around you. His breathing heavy, small moans turn into grunts and groans as he fucks into you one last time, holding you in place as he empties himself inside of you, warm and filling.

He keeps you there, both of you panting for air as you come down and he pulls out with a hiss. He turns you around to face him — you’re still dazed when he leans to kiss you, calm and kind as he cradles your cheeks.

His hands wander down your body and he follows suit, coasting his lips down over your bra between your breasts, over your stomach until he’s crouching in front of you. He peers up at you, pupils still blown wide as he thumbs your folds apart, captivated by how his spend seeps out of you. His tongue darts out, eyes fluttering closed as he tastes himself and licks you clean.

He stands now and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, pulling your panties up and straightening the elastic. His fingers linger on your skin before reaching to do the same with your skirt. He does up his jeans and shakes out his t-shirt, his gaze staying on you while you ensure the gaps in your top are no bigger than when you snuck away from home.

“Maybe we should, uh, get back…” You trail off, boldness quickly fading as you start to second-guess tonight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, opening the front door. “So, when you comin’ round again?”

“Huh?”

“What, you really wanna sneak around your parent’s house instead?”

“No! God, no,” you laugh, shoulders relaxing and Joel smiles at you. “I just wasn’t sure if… I don’t want to sound overeager or anything…” “Nothin’ wrong with that, sweetheart. Besides, I know what I’m doin’ next time.” He winks at you, glancing across the street in thought. The party still seems to be going strong. “Night doesn’t have to end right now, anyways.”

He ushers you out the door with a smack to your ass, leaving you giddy and giggling as he locks his door again. You both head back towards the party, bumping into each other as you walk. You smile at Joel and he winks at you one last time before you crack open the door, excited about what the rest of your time here might hold.

np taglist for some pookies who showed interest:

@almostempty @joelmillerisapunk @djarins-cyare @burntheedges @milla-frenchy

@604to647 @evolnoomym @beefrobeefcal @whocaresstillthelouvre @bitchesuntitled

@sizzlingcloudmentality @sixhours @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @morallyinept

@mermaidgirl30 @bbyanarchist @vichons @angiewatson @professionalpromqueen

@lordhurn @pidgeispunk @letsgobarbs

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @strangergraphics

[star2fishmeg]

it is currently *checks time* 4:07am for me and i cannot sleep because i genuinely can not stop thinking about sleepy kisses in the kitchen with quinn after waking up for a very after midnight glass of water.

the thoughts tonight both soft and not so soft mixed with my insomnia are a lethal combo

OH this gives lake house we-could-be-caught bc I'm a sucker for that🤭 This isn't SMUT smut but there's just a lot of making out.

"Whatcha doing?" he mumbles, voice husky, lips pressing against yours lazily, his hands parting your legs as you sit on the counter, hooking your thighs around his hips and looping your arms around his shoulders, "Is my snoring that bad?"

Quinn's hands are cold against your skin, and goosebumps run over your back as he hikes your shirt up slightly to hold your waist. You were just getting water, but now he's found you, and you're back to melting into his arms, lips parting and tongue reuniting after only hours of falling asleep.

You chuckle, your fingers gliding through his tousled hair—tousled from his pillow yet still soft—and your light touch trailing down his nape, listening to his breath hitch, "Never, just thirsty. M'about to go back to bed. Sorry for waking you."

You lean in again for another kiss, this one deeper, and your tongues meet as if you're the only ones in the lake house. But you're not. You're muffling the little mewls that slip past him as best you can. Not only are his brothers and their friends asleep, but so is your brother, also known as Quinn's best friend and here you are, his sister and best friend, locking lips and grabbing at each other as if you hadn't only just snuck out of Quinn's room hours before.

"Nah, could never," he pulls away only to dive back in, hand finding your jaw and holding you close, his other pushing against your spine for you to arch your back into him, wet kisses echoing around the kitchen with the clock ticking into the abyss, "heard the door creak, forgot to oil that one."

"How did you know it was me?" Another kiss, deeper, lazy, excitement yet anxiety fizzling in your stomach when he bites your bottom lip, pulling it back to collide his lips to yours, licking into each other's mouths languidly and humming.

His hands found your thighs again, caressing along the supple skin and sliding under your knees, pulling you closer to him, hips pressing into each other. He cups your ass, kneading the flesh, your moan vibrating through him and setting his desire alight.

"The guys are heavy-footed. Come to bed with me?" He mumbles against your lips, steadying his sleepy gaze onto yours.

"I can't, what if he catches us? We're cooked."

"Ugh," he rests his forehead on your shoulder, hiding in the crook of your neck, "then we're gonna have to tell him or at least drop the hints. We're adults, he can't be mad."

You say nothing, only hum in agreement and run your fingers through his hair. He's right. Your brother has no right to decide who you can and can't date, you and Quinn have liked each other for years and some part of you hopes that if Luke and Jack can see it, your brother can too.

[springloadedcontraption]

This is the first time in a LONG time I've had access to tumblr with an *at home* device that I could just let myself out freely on.. so bare with me..

This is a perfect post for me to start my *incessant* rants with. First of all.. I remember VERY CLEARLY as a child that ALLL I wanted to do was grow up so I could leave the house, do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.. I was a FIERCE advocate of independence. I was 11 years younger than my two twin sisters, and I IDOLIZED them.. There was this local bar in town they'd always go to with their best friend, Rachel, and it was called "Little Bit" back then. They'd go out basically every single weekend, plus a couple days during the week (this was a local, small town bar that never ID'd anybody, as it was also a college town so nobody gave a shit where the money for the alcohol/cover charges were coming from, as long as they were coming in)

I can remember countless evenings being alone as a child.. Most of my childhood, as a matter of fact. My sisters both had babies at 18, making their youngest children just 7 years younger than me. One of these twins ended up living with us for a little while, giving me the taste of what a little brother/sister (or even a child of my own, which I was NOT a fan of from day fucking ONE) would be like.. and honestly, this trend would end up carrying through a few more children from both sisters based on how much time I spent with said nieces/nephews. Anywho, one sister and her first child lived with us for an amount of time, not sure if I remember just how long.. All I remember is that it was long enough to make sure that this nephew is still, TO THIS DAY, my favorite nephew. But that hardly matters to the point of this post..

While I'm very happy for the things I've learned over the years I've been alive.. from an observant abusive childhood, to an almost divorced household, to teen pregnancy (not my own, obviously) to drug/alcohol problems from both sides of the family, including myself.. I can confidently say that I'd NEVER be at the point I'm at today, or as proud of myself as I am and as in love with who I've turned out to be as a woman, without the trials and tribulations I've faced. Obviously everyone says that to a degree.. but I genuinely mean it.

I've had my fair share of EARTH SHATTERING heartbreak.. more times that I'd like to relive. And honestly, as childish and useless as it sounds.. these romantic heartbreaks have taught me more than most life lessons have.. about love, pain, trust, loyalty, and how fragile the human connection can be. It can be severed in an instant if we all let it.. Obviously death is a little different than regular earthly separation.. But you catch my drift.. I say all this just to make a very vague point..

E V E R Y T H I N G you go through in life is for a MOTHER FUCKING R E A S O N - and more important than that, it's A L L FUCKING T E M P O R A R Y. You learn something from each and every single situation you go through.. No matter whether it's self inflicted or not. Honestly, you sometimes learn more from the self inflicted wounds than you do any others.. I know that's the case with me. And as much as any of those wounds hurt.. whether it was romantic heartbreak, losing a best friend after X amount of years for no real apparent reason, or even a death in the family (even if death hits me differently/less aggressively than it hits most people.. the death of both of my parents happening about 18 months apart when I hadn't even moved out of the house yet was an EXTREMELY low blow.. even if I never admit it to the general public).. Or even on a smaller scale.. work heartbreaks.. your favorite coworker leaving finally to move onto their dream job, or one that just pays more that they didn't bring you along with.. having to quit a job you were really enjoying and learning a lot from and wanted to turn into a career because they weren't valuing you, or the fucking U.S. DOLLAR the way they should have been and you were tired of coat-tailing off your male, non romantic roommate because it was just flat out awkward to ask the man for financial help all the time..

I'm rambling at this point, and it's probably because I've had QUITE a bit to drink (as per usual..) but today, I DESERVE IT, DAMNIT! I finally passed my written/driver's license exams so I finally got my drivers license back after SEVERAL years of driving illegally and paranoid.. I got my nails done (completely unintentionally a Valentine's day theme) and they're BEAUTIFUL.. the man I'm in love with that claims he doesn't actually wanna be with me, but he really does (as terrible as that sounds, I don't think the situation is as doomed as it sounds.. hear me out on future posts lol) went to dinner with me last night and lingered a bit longer than he usually does with any of our friend group.. together or individually.. and he kept using the triangle method on me where he'd look in both my eyes, then at my lips.. and based on the fact that we just had one of the most passionate fucks of our entire relationship not even a month ago and it's pretty obvious that he wants to do it again just tells me that it's not all over with.. that and the fact that NOT A SINGLE EX has ever stayed away completely. I just know it's not ever between us, and thank GOD.. that break up nearly shattered me completely and make it to where I had to admit myself into a mental institution and take a literal mental break from the planet for a while.. God don't get me started with how much I love this man and how much I PRAY that we end up together one day. After all, I've lasted longer than any other woman that he's dated after he got his divorce ;)

I say all that seemingly random ass shit to say this - if you're going through a hard time.. please don't give up. reach out to me. you an find beauty in the world at whatever age you are, no matter what you've been through. While I'm still young, I've been through my own fair share of shit, then most of my family's fair share of shit because I'm so God damn empathetic that it's detrimental to my health at this point.. Just trust me.. I'm here if you need me, even if I don't know you or if you wanna hit me up anonymously.. Don't go through whatever it is you're going through alone. Let me help you find the beauty in this fucked up world again. If I've found it as many times as I have with as much shit as I've fucked up/gone through.. I know I can help you see the light at the end of the tunnel, too.

I love you. Hit me up anytime.

[rainydayathogwarts]

hi, this is the first time I'm writing a request on tumblr but I really like your writing (and unfortunately I'm very picky about writing styles🫣) I have tons of ideas for one shots in the back of my head so I'm coming to you with this rather simple one: reader x remus

Remus & reader are sth like friends, they have a secret crush on each other; remus is the casanova of gryffindor tower and all the girls (and probably boys) are crushing on him, Remus isn't quiet aware of the impact he has, reader reveals it to him in a convo (maybe while studying?) they're having that everyone finds him attractive and he asks if reader does aswell and so onnnn...

honestly, do with it what you want, I'm sure you will slay it! in case you hate the idea pls just ignore my request haha!⭐️

What about you? - Remus Lupin

summary: despite having a whole fanbase of girls who want him as their boyfriend, remus is only interested in your opinion wc: 1k

The giggles you heard as you walked past a group of girls with Remus had you rolling your eyes, cutting off the middle of your conversation. You couldn’t even have a single trip back from the library without a group of Remus’ fangirls making a big deal over him, but the boy didn’t notice them, only taking note of your unusual reaction.

Remus brushed a hand to the back of your arm, his soft touch stealing your attention from the group of insolent girls. “You alright?” Remus asked, carefully watching your expression change from one of annoyance to empathy. “They don’t bother you?” Remus’s eyebrows furrowed, a crease forming between them “Who?” You glanced around the hallway, looking for another group of Remus’s fans. Finally, at the sight of some third year girls huddled around in the corner of the hallway, nervously glancing towards you both, you nodded your head in their direction, softly elbowing Remus in his side. “You know, your little fanbase of girls?” Remus stopped in his tracks, making you look back at his when you realised his disappearance. 

“My little what?” You laughed at the shock in his voice, repeating “Fanbase. Honestly Rem, it shocks me every time that you don’t have a new girl in your bed every day. You could have the entire school lined up to have a turn with you.” Remus stammered, finally picking up his pace, hooking his arm with yours to drag you back to the common room with him. “You need to start over, you’ve lost me.” He said, coming to a stop in front of the fat lady’s portrait to mumble the password.

“I’m surprised you don’t know.” “Sweetheart, just give it to me straight.” He begged, slumping down on the couch in front of the fireplace and patting the spot next to him. You didn’t fail to take notice of the jealous eyes following your figure as you sat close to Remus. You felt your chest swell with pride, and almost wanted to call out ‘Yes, I’m closer to him than you’ll ever be. Cry about it.’ But there were pros and cons to being Remus’s best friend. Pro: you were Remus Lupin’s best friend. Con: you were only Remus Lupin’s best friend. And you feared that with the discovery of all the girls who wanted to have him as their boyfriend, all you’d ever be was his best friend.

“There’s nothing much to it. You know, apart from the fact that every girl in the castle wants you as their boyfriend.” Remus was silent as he processed the information, blinking slowly. “You know, it’s just always been this way. I think people started realising that you’re more than just a pretty face.” “Pretty face?” He mumbled. “Wait. Every girl in the castle?” You shrugged, replying “More or less. I mean, I can assure you that Lily isn’t one of them.” You both laughed at the comment, an image of the infatuated couple displaying in your head. Remus slid his hand into yours, squeezing it softly. “Well, what about you?” You felt your face immediately heat up at his question, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact with the boy, but you couldn’t help the way your gaze dipped down to look at the way Remus held your hand.

You gulped. This was not the first time you and Remus held hands, not at all. But you’d never held hands in this context, with the boy asking if you wanted him to be your boyfriend. “What about me?” You echoed, returning your gaze to Remus’s eyes. The boy seemed to suddenly get nervous, his face flushing as he began to stumble over his words, voice quieting down significantly. “You said every girl in the castle wants me as their boyfriend. Does that apply to you?”

You were very aware that Remus could probably hear the fast thumping of your heart, and you could too. You only wished you had a trick to know how he was feeling too. “It’s fine if not!” He announced at the same time you said “Only if you want it to!” A painful silence settled between you. You cleared your throat, watching as Remus opened and shut his mouth. He didn’t make a move to say anything, forcing you to speak up. “It’s fine if not…” You started, “Does that mean you want it to apply to me?” 

“I mean, it would be pretty nice if the girl I like wants me to be her boyfriend. But if she doesn’t, I guess it’s…” Remus’s words trailed off as he saw a wide grin on your face. He swallowed thickly, forcing his face to cool down, but that wasn’t possible. Not when you were cupping his cheeks and leaning forward to press a bold kiss on his lips. Remus’s hand curled around the nape of your neck to keep your lips pressed against his, only pulling away when he deemed himself ready. “Let’s go out!” He announced the second your lips parted, standing up abruptly. 

You blinked quickly, looking up at the tall boy and asking “Now?” Remus nodded, holding his hands out for you to take. “Yeah, let’s go out now. On a date.” You took Remus’s hands, letting him pull you off the couch. He let go of one of your hands, the other one sneakily intertwining his fingers with yours, leading you out of the common room. Remus led you onto the Hogwarts grounds to spend time together, but it was impossible to have a conversation when neither of you could take your eyes off the other’s lips. Instead, your first date was spent chasing each other for kisses by the black lake, where watchful eyes allowed the news of your relationship to be spread all around hogwarts by the time you got to the great hall for dinner.

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl

[doveywovy]

modern au where izuna is in a tragic accident and it puts him in a coma and tobirama is like sweet, a way to practice friendship. because tobirama has absolutely zero friends except his brother, who's been pissed at him for over a year. so- he needs the practice.

so every day he goes in to visit and he changes out the flowers at izunas bedside and fixes the sheets and updates him in what's been happening while he's in the coma. with all the tact he has, which is very little.

tobirama: hello izuna. class went well today. you would've liked the chemistry lesson. your cousin hikaku broke down crying behind the school because he misses you. your other cousin obito called me a slur when he noticed i saw this and then he chased me down and shoved my head into a toilet. the cafeteria was serving cold rice again at lunch. this concludes my report. get well soon.

what tobirama is unaware of is that this is the kind of coma that izuna is actually largely aware of whats happening around him, he just can't respond or move in any way. so he knows about tobiramas daily visits and updates and weird attempts at friendship. (tobirama's consistant reports on class lessons actually means when he wakes up, he doesn't need to do too much to catch up on work.)

so when izuna finally wakes up, he decides to do his own crazy move- to lie that they've always been friends, actually. best friends. joined at the hip practically. tobirama assumes this is some kind of brain damage situation but gleefully takes the opportunity to have a friend. izuna uses the justification of them being lifelong friends to violate a number of boundaries and behave in completely inappropriate ways.

madara also assumes this is some kind of brain damage consequence and considers tobirama an evil blight on his brother's life that must be vanquished. he keeps desperately trying to prove that they didn't get along before izuna's coma, but izuna just keeps making up loopholes and excuses to disprove his evidence.

eventually izuna tearfully confesses that madara is right, there's no physical proof of their lifelong friendship....because he himself destroyed it all! he and tobirama were/are actually boyfriends, see, but he was so worried that his brother would be homophobic about it that he never kept proof of their relationship! his close call with death has made him realize the importance of treasuring the time he has with tobirama, even if.... (loud sob) even if madara is being even MORE homophobic about this than he had once feared.....(Sob)

madara: oh. uh. i. uh

hashirama: madara.....how could you.....

[insipid-drivel]

I think this is a great point, but there are certain circumstances where, in my own personal experience, clearly indicating, "Hello. I have this condition that This Character is portrayed with," is both valuable and a means of pulling in readers that either share that same condition, or have a sincere interest in it. My explanation for why is under the cut:

For me, it's Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID or "multiple personalities" - please do not use the last term, as it is very harmful and dismissive of a wider array of symptoms that we experience along with our alters). I am a person that has DID in a unique presentation called DDNOS-1B, and something I've learned in striking out since my diagnosis is that there are some communities, such as many members of the DID community, that will not engage with any authors or content that aren't clearly indicated that they were written by someone that has that condition, or has close personal experience with it through a loved one or friend that advised on the work.

I myself have lived openly with DID since I was diagnosed in my late 20s by my longtime psychiatrist. I've sought communities of other people with DID, but to be blunt, they don't really exist that much, or are overflowing with malingering kids and "Therian systems" that very much do not understand the damage they cause by entering our very, very limited spaces and communities. Most people with DID are often alone, or live entirely closeted except with a very, very precious handful of people they feel they can trust. There are larger communities and support groups (and more therapists, too) that support and positively represent schizophrenia than there are that do the same for DID. My best friend of over a decade is schizophrenic, and has discussed with me on multiple occasions how they've found more media like fanfiction that represents schizophrenia in a decent way more than he's ever found anything that tries to touch DID at all.

Most people with DID, that know they have DID, and that I have known that have DID, are completely and totally functionally exhausted and traumatized by the media and attempts to find community as soon as I get the chance to meet them. Most of them are, to a greater or lesser degree, traumatized by the harshness most writers/producers portray DID as being when, in fact, DID is not the uber-dangerous, spooky thing that Netflix's bullshit movie "Split" makes it out to be. Nevertheless, a large number of people with it live closeted because, like other stigmatized mental conditions, you're basically inviting pain into your life trying to pursue media that represents you in a world where nobody really gives a shit, because the DID is a plot element and A Problem This Brave Brave Character Is Overcoming and nothing more.

DID especially is villainized, and often co-opted by malingerers that think it's cool to feign the condition in the most stereotypical and harmful ways possible. There's a long history of serial killers that malinger as DID sufferers because "it's an easy excuse to get an insanity defense" in court. My own psychiatrist of over 10 years was formerly a court-appointed psychiatrist that assessed the validity of claims of disorders like DID and schizophrenia in violent felons that tried to get lighter sentences for themselves (Ted Bundy did this, as well as a host of other infamous serial killers).

Can you imagine what it's like to live with a diagnosis that the general public has only heard about in literal horror movies and true crime documentaries, and is always portrayed in the most villainous and infantilizing ways by popular media?

After a while, a lot of people like me give up and embrace the concept of, "No representation is better than this representation." There are more cries in spaces like tumblr for ending the flagrant overuse of the word "Narcissist" than there have ever been cries for showing basic human decency to people with DID. I've never seen a viral post about mental health in any space or platform that's been about DID/OSDD and its need for kinder and more honest representation. I've been in hospitals where I have asked lifelong health professionals, "Have you even heard of DID?" reply with a blithe, "Nope! What's that?"

Most fellow Systems I've met through indicating in some of my published writing that A Character has DID (right now, it's my Merlin character in an Odyssey/Celtic Mythology fic I've been publishing since last December) and that I myself am representing the condition because I have it too is one of the few ways to actually make contact with people that understand me, or get their engagement in my writing at all, because most people with DID inherently distrust anything that claims to "represent" us that isn't written or vetted by someone that has it, or someone that has legitimate personal or professional experience with it.

I've spoken with students that are studying psychology or just have an armchair fascination with the concept of DID, but don't even think to ask questions about things that I live with on a regular basis. I've never once had anyone ask me as simple a question as, "How do romantic relationships work for you in real life when you have multiple people in your brain?" (Answer: They don't. I gave up on the possibility of being loved a long time ago)

To be completely honest, I'm the only person that chooses to live openly with DID that I've ever encountered so far, and a lot of it is because so many of us out there live in absolute, pant-shitting terror of being identified and persecuted. I myself have lost friends and family members who learned of my DID and began to stipulate how my alters and I were and were not allowed to behave (based upon stereotypes they'd seen in the media/been taught by their religion and nothing to do with how I'd actually treated them before), which is an unreasonable and unfair demand to make of a System. I have lost partnerships with a person I loved for more than 20 years because he could not understand that insisting, "I'm dating you, not your alters," is not only a misguided and patently false statement, but one that also makes demands of me I can't maintain and whittles me down to a very 2-dimensional version of myself. I've had religious family members and friends give me ultimatums that I had to "get rid of" my alters that present as demonic, and not-so-subtly suggested I commit suicide to send my demonic alters "back to hell where they belong."

So, yeah. I myself will not read or watch works that are supposed to represent DID through a character or multiple characters unless I already know that an expert or someone with it has vetted the work first. I am not the only System that does it, either.

No, it's not fair to put that kind of a gate up around embracing potential forms of positive representation, but I've been traumatized too many times by taking things on faith and being burned for it. My alters have been traumatized by it, too.

No, not every content creator and author should have to advertise, "It's okay that [Character] has [Condition] because I do," but there are some conditions that, by their very nature, cause the people with them to fear and mistrust media that tries to represent them and wind up avoiding it completely rather than even giving the work a peek. Most of the time, it's done in a harmful way that perpetuates extremely negative stereotypes, or false facts that are made up and popularized by "influencers" on platforms like TikTok that are really just malingering and spreading false information that leads to more harmful interactions for people like us.

For some communities, sometimes the only way to get people to talk to you or engage with your creations is to signal that you're part of the community in some way. Because most of the content creators in this world have already done us so dirty that it's the only way to trust that some representation of us will actually be kind.

One trend on ao3 that I feel uneasy about is the increased use of “author is trans” “author is disabled” “author is ace” etc tags.

On the one hand I can understand how it can feel like a reassuring sign for readers who are trans/disabled/ace etc that their lives are less likely to be misrepresented in that fic because the writer has lived experience.

But at the same time, when we’re writing fanfiction—about kids who can manipulate the force of the waves, about necromancy, about flying on dragons—I think the suggestion that you need to have lived experience to write sensitively about something is so limiting.

Like if we aren’t exercising the full force of our imaginations and empathy in fanfiction, where exactly are we doing it?

It also makes me sad because sometimes you can tell from the nervousness of the author’s note that the writer felt they had to justify their writing with their lived experience. And I don’t think you should feel ethically obligated to gesture toward personal and often painful aspects of your identity to justify writing you do in your spare time that makes you happy.

Some of the best fics I’ve read about disability have been written by authors that didn’t have experience with that exact condition and did heartfelt research and really let themselves inhabit it. And I think that’s a bravura display of empathy and the very best that fiction can offer: caring about a character enough, and caring about your readers enough, that you want to understand what it’s like.

Sometimes friends have asked me about my visual disability to better understand Zuko for their stories, and I’ve always found it really moving. It means they care so much about the fictional world that they want to get the real world right too. It means they’re learning and growing so they can make stories about disability.

It means they love the show, and it means they love me.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hi - do you have any fics with scenes like the one in "but the world won't stop turning" where derek time travels and meets his mom? in this one she knows it him by scent (in her time he's 7-ish) and they just have lunch and talk bit. it's very bittersweet. i was hoping there might be more like it?

Hi anon. Let's see.

But The World Won't Stop Turning by thepsychicclam

(1/1 I 19,906 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek glances at Stiles, who is watching him with a curious expression.

“Oh shit,” Stiles exclaims as comprehension dawns on him. “Everything makes sense now. Derek, I know what the witch did, she cursed you with – “

But before Stiles is able to finish his sentence, everything fades away and Derek is surrounded by darkness.

***

A Chance Worth Taking by ash_mcj

(1/1 I 1,885 I General i Sterek)

When Derek woke up, he thought he was in a dream.

There were posters littering the familiar forest green walls that he hadn’t seen in years—Star Trek, Black Eyed Peas, even a Destiny’s Child one he had completely forgotten was on the back of his bedroom door that he’d stolen from Laura’s wall when she’d left for college. A burgundy and white letterman jacket was slung over his desk chair, bold letters spelling his surname and his basketball number across the back with Beacon Hills Cyclones Basketball on the lower half.

This wasn’t possible—this room had burned to ash years ago, and his nightmares almost never featured such simple scenes as this one. There were no foreboding feelings, no sharp smell of smoke, no guilt-inducing screams. 

And just as he was about to dig his clawed hand into his thigh in an attempt to wake himself from this maybe-dream, he remembered. ___

[or: with the help of some magic, Derek and Stiles go back in time—giving them the opportunity to save not only their future pack, but also the first one Derek lost]

Days Like These. by Missy_Moo

(6/23 I 8,801 I General I Sterek)

Derek and Stiles mated right after Stiles finished highschool, they had been trying for a baby ever since. Unfortunatly nature was against them and everything they tried had failed. Until their third and final round of IVF, they were pregnant! Deaten finds the spell to send Derek back to stop the fire on the very same day that they find oout about their pup. Now its Dereks choice, his new family or his old one.

-

Or where Derek goes back in time stops the fire, forgets about Stiles and has to find his mate all over again. While Stiles pouts his way through a virgin mary style pregnancy.

Blood of my Veins, Bone of my Body by DaoOfGay

(4/? I 10,679 I Explicit I Sterek)

Derek Hale was a stupid and very proud teen. He always regretted the words he told the one that was his Soulmate... That day was the day he threw away his chance at happiness while pushing someone down a path of no return.

He regretted it so much...

Now, at such old age, he lived a lonely life. His friends, family, and others he loved- he pushed them away slowly, and he didn't even notice it. So, as he died alone, all he wanted was to go back...

"-rek, tell me this freak is lying and that you two aren't Soulmates-"

He hadn't even come to his senses- everything was so weird, but when he heard those words, his entire being screamed and he opened his mouth to say: "Of course we're Soulmates-"

There was only silence in the school cafeteria.

Back to the Beginning by erraticallyinspired

(7/? I 18,532 I Teen I Sterek)

"The last thing he can remember is turning his back to Jennifer-Julia. It was stupid, of course, because she was the Darach and knew perfectly well how to handle werewolves. [...] He has to be dead."

Jennifer knocks Derek out in the elevator, but he doesn't wake up there.

A Simple Wish by monkeyihihji

(5/5 I 23,022 I Teen I Sterek)

In less than seven days, his girlfriend had randomly broken up with him and kicked him out. He was forced to move back home to a family that seemed to not really want him. His bed was too small. And his former childhood best friend--who he just figured out he was in love with--was with someone else. Happy Birthday, Derek. It was a great week, really. The candle flickers and seems to mock him. He takes a deep breath and blows.

"I wish I could go back and fix this whole mess."

Time To Say Goodbye by matildajones

(1/1 I 34,323 I Teen I Sterek)

Derek finds an older version of himself at his front door, along with Stiles, a boy from the future.

[fratttymatty]

The Prank

(All characters are 18+)

Once upon a time in a quiet town, there lived an 18-year-old high school boy named Oliver Miller. Oliver was the type of person who spent most of his free time reading up on current events, science fiction novels, and philosophical articles. His friends often referred to him as a "nerd" in the kindest way possible, and he wore the label with pride. He had big glasses, messy brown hair, and a wardrobe that consisted mostly of graphic tees and flannel shirts. Oliver was liberal-minded, with a passion for environmental issues and social justice causes, and he often spent his weekends volunteering for local initiatives. He was a kind-hearted, introspective soul, and despite his awkwardness, he knew what he wanted from life.

Then there was Lily Harris, a girl he had met online just a few months ago. She was smart, funny, and just as passionate about politics as Oliver was. They bonded over late-night conversations about the issues that mattered to them — climate change, social inequality, and the importance of standing up for what's right. Lily, like Oliver, was a nerd through and through. She loved indie films, debated comic book lore, and was just as comfortable discussing quantum physics as she was talking about her favourite dystopian novels. She was liberal, she was strong-minded, and she was everything Oliver admired.

One Tuesday evening, after hours of exchanging memes and debating the latest political scandals, Oliver and Lily decided it was finally time to meet in person. They had spent weeks talking about how much they clicked, how their shared values and interests made them feel like kindred spirits. So, on that Tuesday, they agreed that Friday would be the day. They would meet at the local park, where they’d talked about all the things they wanted to do in the future — from travelling together to marching for causes they cared about. It would be the start of something beautiful, or so they thought.

Little did Oliver know, everything was about to change in ways he could never have imagined.

The very next day, Wednesday, Lily’s life took an unexpected turn. Her brother, Kyle, had always been a prankster, but this time, he was up to something more sinister than just stealing her favourite hoodie. Kyle had recently stumbled upon an ancient, arcane spellbook he'd found in the attic. He had no idea how it worked, but curiosity got the best of him.

Sitting in his room, Kyle began reading the incantations out loud, unaware of their potency. As the words left his lips, Lily, who had been browsing through her phone on the couch, suddenly felt a strange sensation washing over her. She looked down at her hands, watching them shrink and soften. Her body seemed to change in real-time, becoming more... feminine... and less of the confident, intellectual woman she had once been. Her long, curly brown hair turned platinum blonde, and her once thoughtful eyes now sparkled with a shallow, distracted energy.

In a matter of moments, Lily stood up, feeling like an entirely different person. Gone were her thoughtful expressions, her sharp intellect, and her love for deep conversations. In their place, she felt an overpowering urge to talk in valley girl slang. “Like, oh my God!” she said, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Her voice was higher pitched, and she felt a strange, dizzying sense of joy, as though she'd suddenly adopted a new identity. Her glasses were gone, replaced by oversized, trendy sunglasses, and she had to admit, she kind of liked how she looked now. She was, after all, totally hot.

“Ugh, Kyle, like, what did you do to me?” she asked, but it didn’t sound like her at all. Her voice was laced with a giggly, ditzy tone she never thought she could produce. Kyle, smirking, leaned against the doorframe. “You’ll thank me later, Lil. Trust me.”

Later that night, Lily couldn’t stop texting Oliver, trying to keep up the appearance of the thoughtful, political girl he had fallen for. But every text she sent felt more and more difficult to write. By the end of the evening, she simply couldn’t resist the urge to call him, feeling an odd excitement to speak to him as the new version of herself.

Thursday came, and the transformation continued. At dawn, something strange happened. Lily, in her new bubbly, cheerleader-like state, felt a sudden compulsion to call Oliver. She wasn’t sure why, but the impulse was too strong to ignore.

On the other end of the phone, Oliver picked up the call, his voice soft and curious. “Hey, Lily, what’s up?”

“Like, heyyy, Oliver!” Lily cooed, the valley girl persona pouring out. “I, like, totes can’t wait for us to, like, meet tomorrow. It’s gonna be soooo fun, you know?”

Oliver blinked in confusion. “Wait… what happened to you, Lily? You sound... different.”

“Oh my God, babe, like, nothing happened,” Lily replied, tossing her hair back and giggling. “I’m just super excited, that’s all.”

Then, with a sudden flash, a strange energy washed over Oliver. He felt his body tense up, as if he was being pulled from within. His nerdy, liberal self was slowly slipping away. His posture straightened, his muscles began to grow, and before he could even process what was happening, he felt like a completely different person. His hair shortened into a messy, yet perfectly styled bro cut, and his glasses vanished. His clothes magically changed into a fitted, athletic tee, and his once soft, geeky demeanour now turned into a dominating, cocky confidence. He felt like he could rule the world.

“Bro,” Oliver muttered to himself in awe, looking at his reflection. His voice was deeper, more assertive. “What the hell just happened?”

Across the phone, Lily’s new voice came through again, teasing. “Babe, like, you’re gonna love the new you, trust me. You’re totes hot now. Like, you’re an alpha, and it’s gonna be, like, amazing when we meet.”

By Friday, both Oliver and Lily were standing at the local park, not as the people they once were, but as someone completely different. Oliver, now a jock with a cocky grin, and Lily, a cheerleader who looked like she had stepped out of a reality TV show, locked eyes and felt a magnetic pull.

“Hey, like, Eric,” Lily said with a laugh, addressing him with his new name. The transformation had been so complete that the name “Oliver” felt foreign now.

Eric—he didn’t even remember the person he had been—looked at her with a grin that could melt hearts. “Cassie, babe, you look amazing,” he said, his deep voice dripping with confidence. He was tall, athletic, and ridiculously good-looking now.

Cassie flipped her new blonde hair and giggled. “Totes. You look, like, way hotter than I imagined. I, like, can’t wait to see what happens between us.”

Eric smirked. “Just so you know, I’m gonna be, like, a really bad boyfriend. I mean, I’m toxic, and I’m all about the bro life. I’m not gonna be super caring and stuff.”

Cassie’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and she didn’t hesitate for a second. “Like, that’s totally fine. I’m, like, soooo down with it. You’re, like, hot, and that’s all that matters, babe.”

Eric, feeling a little bewildered by her nonchalant attitude, leaned in closer, his arms circling her waist. “You sure?”

Cassie giggled, pulling him in closer. “Like, for sure. Let’s just have fun, Eric. I’m, like, totes happy with who we are now.”

And just like that, their personalities had merged in a way neither of them could have predicted. They were no longer the nerdy, liberal-minded teenagers who had spent hours debating the world’s problems. Now, they were Cassie and Eric, a power couple made for the jock-queen lifestyle, and neither of them cared about going back.

They kissed, their new identities solidifying as they embraced who they were now, not caring about the people they had been before. For the first time, they were truly happy — they were confident, carefree, and together. The world felt like their playground, and they didn’t need to look back.

As they walked off into the sunset, hand in hand, they knew there was no going back. And, honestly, they didn’t want to.

And so, Cassie and Eric’s new lives began — full of confidence, laughter, and a whole lot of valley girl slang. They were the perfect couple, living for the moment, and completely happy in their new skin.

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says….

Jamil + hurt to comfort + non sexual intimacy (Post-graduation, ~1000 words)

Everyone and their mother knows how hard Jamil works. (Literally, there’s a colony of older women that pass him trinkets on the way to work now) It’s practically a walk of fame whenever you take him out.. Your neighborhood is poorer than most, and he’s got the best job in the building by far! Your man, a big shot <3

You’re lucky that even with all the attention, nobody sees the holes. That all the friends from college stopped visiting after the first month of avoiding clubbing like the plague- and it’s not that he’s abusive! Far from it! You only worry for his reputation, now that it really matters..

It feels like all you do these days is worry. How the washing machine is making those noises again (the sigh Jamil makes when you bring it up), or how the neighborhood cat turns her nose up at you even though you’ve spent hours at the porch for her (he says it’s a waste of time and money, but he’d never liked cats very much anyhow).

He goes on and on about how you should be resting and enjoying the “free time” you have more than you talk about anything meaningful anymore- You even miss small talk, and small talk sucks!

But, tonight, you’ll give him mercy. Today just feels special, and instead of mourning your past, sparks will fly!

When Jamil gets home you’re in a pressed, tight ensemble. Dinner is made fresh. The apartment is spotless (save for some petals)! It’s tasteful, romantic ;) He doesn’t make a single comment. In a frantic scramble to save dinner, you make the first contact in what feels like months

“So, how’s dinner? I tried out that seasoning pack you got!”

“I see.. You definitely tried.” Your own husband feels alien now- And it’s no wonder. He’s doing all these big, important things at work, and what do you do? What can you provide other than a decent meal and complaints?

Nothing.

Jamil heads to bed before you do, as he’s done for years, expecting you to amble in after a spot of trash tv. He isn’t awake long enough to cuddle, or do much of anything for your pleasure nowadays,,

The pleather couch is your only comfort now- and between fits of insomnia and cold sweats your covers are tossed aside in favour of wrestling up any half-decent sleep. Tomorrow will be better. There’s always tomorrow.

.

“Tomorrow”, as a concept, is terrible. A horrible thing tied so enthusiastically to hope should be illegal, but, boiling baths are pretty famous for making things more bearable, and you’re willing to try! There’s still rose petals in the hall, you kick limply at the velvety blobs in your peripheral, even if they don’t deserve the spite. If one thing’s for sure, you’ll probably never do something like this again.

The bath is already drawn when you arrive, aromatic steam tickles at your body hair as you’re lowered into the tub like one of those hot spring monkeys. You miss going to the zoo. God, you miss dates! It just feels like takeout and movies grew legs and walked away after your wedding- You were young, then, so full of potential,,

“You could’ve asked to join me.”

Suddenly, your eyes dilate like a kitten looking at a plastic mouse, and that faint, aware part of you floats away in the steam- Not before reminding you that it’s the weekend :) ! You can only watch as a drop of condensation make it’s way down his torso and into the towel laying loosely across his hips..

You waste no time- water splashes over the edge when you rush beneath the bubble cover. Sure, he’s seen you naked more times than you can count, but this is private!! You consider tossing the shampoo bottle, but decide against it. Even that’d be too good for him.. He’d run the bath with your salts and soaps, this belongs to you on principle!

“It’s my bath, I don’t need to ask!”

“Is that so? Then, I don’t need to either.”

You sigh before helping him in limply with one hand, and flicking water towards his face with the other- His hair is braided and tied back, but the front pieces where you helped him cut bangs a few years ago skim across the foamy surface. You resist fixing his exhausted hunch to spare your his pride.

You grab for his ankle with the tepid washcloth, and rub circles into his skin. He sinks back into the water to scooch into your touch and more of his hair gets wet, you make a note to wash it later.

“Is anything going on? Are the neighbours treating you well?”

Hm. Now you know his angle- Even after all these years, Jamil’s never been the type to initiate physical touch, but he knows you like it. The snake’s trying to butter you up!

“I’ve been treated well enough. Gonna’ start looking for a job soon, I think it’d be good to get out more. You understand, don’t you? With all the people you see?”

The wash cloth’s much softer in the warm water, and you scrub harder- only stopping when you notice the area going a little red. No matter how mad you are, he doesn’t deserve dry skin,, Jamil tosses around sighs and mumbled comments. You don’t need to work, he says, and you respond in kind. but I want to. The muscles in his thigh flex a little in response- akin to an eye twitch, you’d learned early on that he’d use flexing as a subtle way to reduce stress in school. He can’t hide from you here.

“Why would you want to work? It’s the worst way to spend your time. We have enough money- let me provide for you until we retire. You shouldn’t have make that sacrifice.”

You make him turn in the narrow tub, and begin to lavish his back and shoulders with the soapy water. Despite your ministrations, he stays so tense. Thinking back, maybe Jamil had never been truly comfortable.

“You ‘sacrifice’ yourself every day for your job. I’m tired of being alone all the time. Tired of not having you when I need to- When was the last time we were close like this?”

“I guess.. You’re right. We need to do this more often, but I only want you to work if you want to.”

“I do! Promise! But, in return I want you picking up less hours. There’s no point if you’re not here.”

For the first time in years, you are happy. He leans into your chest lovingly, and looks at you. Really sees you again, like when you were younger, when you were passionate. The change’ll take time, but for now, you’re happy with the progress.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Thank you.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day??”

Beta read by @/Echosofmortality!!

[sunrisecaminus]

Ratchet x Bullied Reader SFW

Summary - Ratchet saved you from a beat down. A bully of yours just had to get in the way of his human x_x

Warnings - A bit of violence, Bullying, College (~spooky~)

Type of fic - Hurt/Comfort

Y/n was just coming out of college, holding her laptop in one of her arms while in her other hand she is texting on her phone for pick up from her guardian. Ratchet was getting tired of driving all across Jasper just to get to this stupid college that is in the middle of the desert of Nevada. He was already grumpy when he leaves the base, seeing your text messages from the com and transforms to start driving. You saw Ratchet when he was fighting Decepticons when you were walking home in the night. Ever since you were honestly the best human he had ever met, which isn't saying much from the other three. Both of you are quiet people and whenever you are around each other, everyone can feel the peace between you both. Your conversations are usually about differences between Cybertronian and Human culture, anatomy, school, or sometimes you like to lean on his helm and listen to his most ridiculous stories about crazy patients he had back on Cybertron in the hospital. He never thought he would like a human in a way he does with you. You are very special in his eyes and he would do anything for you if you need. Though he never shows his soft side most of the time. You think he is a big grumpy pants, but you feel like he isn't showing you how he truly feels about you. Optimus told you many times how his best friend treats people who he cares about, so you never took Ratchet's insults at you seriously.

Ratchet can't stop worrying about you though, as you seem to have some people from the past that goes to your college. You told him about how they use to push you around and harass you ever sense middle school. It probably started from when you threw milk on them for picking on your friend. They were so embarrassed and it seems that they moved from your friend to now the person who was willing to give them the attention they wanted. Ratchet got extra protective when he heard that it wasn't just a few people either, there was like five people in the group that constantly pick on you for years. They would drive by you and get you wet whenever they saw you walking alone, call you names and insult you in class, throw food at you to ruin your clothes whenever you dress cute, anything that could get you angry, those little nobodies did. You find yourself waiting a bit longer than usual, but that is probably because there was some traffic. There is a party going on right now in the campus where everyone is partying, eating, and playing games. You were sitting at a bench just outside the campus and even than you could hear the music. Opening your laptop, you start to work on an essay you had due next week for your literature class. People walking past you as you check your emails. One you saved of Ratchet and the rest congratulating you on your 22nd birthday a few months ago. It was always nice to see the message, because of the English grammar mistakes and emojis, probably from bumblebee or bulkhead (or Miko if she was helping them type what they wanted to say in the email). As you switch the tab to go back to typing the essay, you feel your laptop being smacked out of your hands and landing on the sidewalk. You turn to see the oldest of the group, b/n. Thankfully your laptop didn't break as you stand to go grab it, but b/n grabs your arm and turns you around forcefully.

"What? Come on look at me. Like my new haircut?" They push on your chest as you step back a bit.

"Oh come on b/n, will you quit?" You spit on the ground in front of them as you go to get your laptop again. This time, b/n was pissed at your attitude and kicked the laptop into the road, unfortunately, a truck drove by and ran over the laptop, which immediately shattered the poor thing. You hear the cracking and crunching of the laptop being ran over as you gasp in horror. That laptop had so many things on it that you needed. Not only your unfinished projects, but also the loving emails and messages you get on it all the time from the Autobots. You looked at b/n in horror and anger as you pushed them back, harder then they did earlier.

"What is wrong with you?!" You yelled as b/n looked at you. They seem to not think it was going to be broken like that and seemed shocked themselves, but when they got pushed they switched to anger and shoved you really hard. You land on the ground and scrape your elbow and your butt hits the pavement really hard, feeling the pain growing from your butt all the way to the middle of your back. You hissed in pain as you lay there to try and maybe get the pain to slowly muffle itself by not moving.

"Don't fucking push me!" b/n yelled back at you and kicks your leg. You yell from the pain that was inflicted on you calf and you hold the part they kicked. You never was bullied like this before, b/n definitely had a rough day and wanted to make your life worse to make them feel better. You never knew b/n had such a kick either, you heard about them being kicked out of soccer, but you never knew the group would ever get physical with you, so it never worried you about them being in sports. Before the idiot tried to kick you again, you hear an ambulance siren loudly blaring on the street and b/n immediately looked up. They see the ambulance driving over and booked it in the opposite direction, going into the grass and heading into the neighborhood so they couldn't be caught.

Ratchet saw when he turned on the street you being pushed and kicked hard. He knew he had to take action before anymore damage was inflicted onto you. The only thing he could think of at the moment was to scare the bully by blaring his siren, but thankfully it worked because he didn't know what he was going to do if they kept kicking you. No one else was around because every student was either home by now or still at the party at campus, so he transforms and rushes to your aid. You open your eyes to see him and felt so relieved. You reached your hand up for him and he sees this as a sign for help. Ratchet scoops you up in his hands and calls in for a ground bridge. You hiss in pain from being moved but held onto one of Ratchet's digits to show how you are still ok.

"What in the Allspark happened?! Why did b/n start a fight?! You look drained!" He kept rambling as he goes rushing into the ground bridge, quickly getting you to lay on the couch. Ratchet goes to his station and coms June Darby as quickly as he could to tell her the situation. Ratchet doesn't know how much damage b/n did to you, and is thinking you are fatally injured. He always knew humans were delicate beings and needed to know quickly if you were going to be ok. You could hear him mumbling to himself, saying "I swear if I was the sooner…" and "…I should've told y/n to just stay home." You whistle to grab his attention and you see his little ears perk up from the noise. Ratchet looks at you with his full focus on you and stops what he was doing. You knew this was difficult for him, but he should not be putting the blame on himself just for you. "I'm ok, just a bit bruised. Don't be so hard on yourself." You talked to him like you were an angel in his eyes. Ratchet listened to your gentle voice that sounded so weak yet beautiful like it always was. He never could tell you to shut up, really he couldn't. Even he couldn't believe how much he liked the way a human spoke, but you were just there, telling him everything was going to be ok…and that is all he needed to come over to you and lay his hand right next to you. You smile softly at him and you take one of his digits again, gently stroking it with your thumb. He couldn't believe how soft you were, but primus that just made him even more anxious about keeping you safe. Judy walked in to see him press his finger as delicately as he could to your face and caressed it. She smiled at how strong your bond was with him, and she walked over to check your injuries. That is when you remembered...you have a hard drive of all the emails and projects in your pocket. Well, you can just get Agent Fowler to buy you a new computer...you knew a certain medic that would threaten him if Fowler said no, anyway.

[nothoughtsjustfic]

Thinking about: Hairdresser X.MH

💭Who: Xu Minghao (Seventeen) x reader 💭What: Fluff. Friends to lovers. Co-workers. Hairdresser Minghao. Hairdresser reader. 💭Word count: 2.4k 💭Warnings: None! 💭Summary:“For months now, you’ve pined after your co-worker and friend, Xu Minghao. You haven’t let yourself even entertain the possibility of your feelings being reciprocated in fear of getting your heart broken.

But, in the midst of bleaching your hair for you one evening, Minghao shows you that your heart will always be safe in his gentle hands.”

Masterlist

A/N – Thank you to my beabie @ourdawnishotterthanourday for helping me with the summary! 💗

“What are you doing?” The amused tone of your co-worker and friend makes you look over at him where he’s sweeping up from his last client, and away from the mirror you’d been staring into while holding various shades of blonde extensions up against your face.

“I think I want to go blonde,” you inform.

“Oh, really?” He looks at your natural hair in surprise. “I always assumed you don’t like to colour your own hair, you’re the only one of us who has their natural colour,” he muses, prompting you to look over the other hairdressers and stylists around the salon.

Although you logically know they all have dyed hair, even in natural colours, because you’ve probably dyed and bleached all of their hair at least once over the past few years, it hasn’t really clicked until Minghao points it out that you are genuinely the only one without coloured hair. Even Minghao as the newest member of the team, has streaks of various colours mixed in with his otherwise dark and shaggy hair, some of which you had put in only days ago with left over dye from a client, turning the last of his blond streaks a royal purple.

“I used to when I was a teen, but it got messed up so much that I don’t trust people to touch it anymore,” you explain with a shrug and turn back to the mirror to try and decide which shade you like best. “I know everyone here is incredible at their jobs and I’d highly recommend them all, but I just can’t bring myself to let them near my hair with scissors, let alone dye.”

“Ah, so offering to stay behind with you today to bleach it for you is pointless,” he realises with a chuckle and moves to empty the dustpan and wash his hands.

When he returns, you’re looking between two different extensions in your hands. He plucks them both up and turns you to him so that he can hold them either side of your face consideringly. You can only stare at his focused features and hope that your awe for this beautiful, kind hearted and endlessly talented man isn’t obvious on your expression.

From the very first moment Minghao was introduced to you as the newest member of the team months back, you were taken. At first it was his natural beauty and uniquely elegant, yet artistic style, paired with his shy smiles that pulled you in. But as you got to know him and became friends, you realised that everything about this man is utterly endearing, and you would love to have the chance to know him romantically too. Yet, you don’t want to risk ruining your working and platonic relationship with him that you do your best to keep your feelings to yourself.

“This one,” he decides, lifting the blonde hairs in his right hand higher, making you look at it instead of him. Silently, you take the extension and turn back to the mirror to hold it up. “I think you’ll look stunning in that shade.”

“Yeah?” He hums in confirmation. “This one it is,”  you agree and notice the way he smiles because you approve his choice. “So uh, you don’t have anything to do after work?” You wonder.

“Hm?”

“You said you’ll stay to do it for me?” You turn just enough to peer at him and notice his expression turn mildly surprised. “I’d like that; I think I’d really fuck up if I tried to do the back myself.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I’d love to have the honour,” he smiles softly. “We’ll do the patch and strand test now and bleach after work?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Hao.”

“Of course, any time.”

Which leads to a few hours later when everyone has gone home and the salon is closed for customers, the keys left with the pair of you today, Minghao pats the chair at his station invitingly, prompting you to sit and allow him to put the cape in his hands around your shoulders securely to protect your clothes.

He had finished with his last client with enough time to clean up his station and prepare everything needed to bleach your hair, including all of the foils and the bleach itself so it’s all set up neatly in wait for this moment.

“Sure about this?” He checks for the last time when he’s finished sectioning your hair and pulled on his gloves to get started.

“I trust you,” you assure, meeting his gaze in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. Minghao’s expression softens slightly, and his eyes do that tender thing they do sometimes, which never fails to make your heart race.

“Thank you,” he breathes out and brushes his hand over your shoulder before he grabs the bleach and gets started diligently painting it onto your hair.

As Minghao works, the two of you talk about everything and anything that comes to mind; art, movies, music, family, friends, work, food, nothing is out of bounds for you two but curiously, one thing Minghao never asks about, nor mentions, is romance.

You know he’s single thanks to co-workers having been excited to learn as much when he started, and they still regularly seem to be updated on his lack of love life, but he hasn’t once mentioned it to you or asked about your own. You can’t tell if he’s purposely not talking about it or if he’s just following your lead and not bringing it up.

Honestly, you’re kind of glad either way because you dread to think of the day he is no longer single, and you have to learn that someone else has his attention.

Sometimes, you think about just biting the bullet and asking him to get dinner with you after work as a date, not just as co-workers and friends. But every time you approach him to ask, you lose all your nerve and fail to make the distinction, so you end up sitting with him in the same restaurant as usual with your heart aching. Though his sole attention and bright smiles on you always picks you back up before dessert is over, so it’s not a complete loss. At least you still have him by your side as a dear friend, something you hope will remain for a long time.

By the time Minghao is putting the last foil in and moving around to stand in front of you with his careful gaze glued to the crazy silver mess atop your head, the conversation has only just ceased, to be replaced with a comfortable quiet.

It always amazes you that Minghao is a man of few words with his clients, he’ll respond to them politely and give smiles, but his clients know he’s not the one to go to if they want someone to listen to then blather away the whole time or gain a reciprocated line of conversation with.

Minghao is quiet and efficient, professional yet still friendly.

Yet he has barely stopped talking since he first started on your hair and not even just to respond. He’s started new topics, made jokes, and even walked away at one point from laughing so hard that he had to lean against the chair of the next station until he gained his composure, only to return with sweet giggles spilling from his lips.

It makes you feel beyond privileged to see the man like this; so open and bright when he’s always careful with his reactions and sparse words with all of your shared colleagues. Even outside of work when you go for staff meals and drinks out, Minghao tends to remain content in his calm bubble while watching everyone else act like fools with a little smile on his face. You would assume he’s just naturally a listener in all regards, but with you he instigates and talks, laughs, and playfully nudges you when you make jokes or tease him.

If you weren’t already so infatuated with the man, you’d think he likes you, but you refuse to entertain that thought and get your hopes up. You think it would crush you too much to have your heart broken by Minghao, even if you know he would be nothing but gentle with it all the same. He’d hand your shattered heart back in delicate, tender hands, and that would hurt even more than the rejection.

Sometimes you wish Minghao isn’t such a kind person, sometimes you wish he’d tell you to stop talking or turn down dinner invites, but he never does. He always turns to you to listen patiently and accepts with a smile on his pretty face. It both lifts you up into the clouds and drags you deeper into the aching abyss of your own feelings for him.

“There,” he declares once he leans back, eyes still darting over your head to check everything is correct even as he removes his gloves to toss onto the station behind him. “Now, we wait.”

“Now we wait,” you agree with a nod, causing the foils to bob above you, making Minghao giggle. “Don’t laugh,” you complain, gently nudging his leg with your foot in something so weak it can’t even be considered a scolding kick. He smiles at you brighter. “You should count yourself lucky to be here with me like this, I wouldn’t let just anyone make me look this insane.”

“I always count myself lucky when I’m with you,” he retorts simply and turns to tidy up as if he hasn’t just caused your heart to body-slam against your ribs erratically.

You can only watch, struck silent by his words, as he moves around to clean up, disappearing into the backroom to wash everything he needs to and put away items.

When he returns he starts to talk, though about what you’re not really sure, at least not actively because a part of you is always tuned in to Minghao enough to understand the topic and carry on the conversation naturally, as if a part of you isn’t still having a breakdown over his blasé words.

Minghao perches on the table of his station in front of you as you talk despite there being a chair a few metres on your left at the next station. His feet are on the floor pretty much underneath where your own are propped on the bar of the chair.

There’s not that much space between you right now so you’re glad he didn’t sit in the next chair, while also wishing he had so that your heart would stop racing with nervous hope.

As the topic ends, Minghao doesn’t start another one and you don’t have the brain capacity to even attempt to either. He hasn’t looked away from you once and there’s something contemplative in his eyes that doesn’t match his relaxed expression.

Then, only seconds after quiet envelops you both, Minghao leans forward, one hand lifting from where it’s holding the edge of the desk beside him so that he can gently cup your cheek a second before his lips touch yours.

You’re too shocked to respond, mind whirling and screaming as your heart tries to break free of the confinements of your chest to jump into his elegant hands to make a home there in his peaceful touch.

When Minghao pulls back after only a few seconds of soft pressure, he gives you small, apologetic smile and settles back against the table while both hands grip the edge. “Sorry, I just…I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time and couldn’t stop myself anymore.”

“Y-you have?” He nods and then yelps when you reach out to hit his arm.

“Ow! I said sorry!” He defends and flails to grab your hands before you can whack him again, even if you are barely adding any sting to your touch, not wanting to hurt him and he knows that, he has to know that.

“Why did you have to pick now when I look like this?!” You exclaim and free one hand from his hold to motion to your hair.

He glances up at the foils then looks at you. “I don’t understand.”

“I look crazy, Minghao! Of all the times you could kiss me, you chose this to be the first? Now this is what we’re both going to think of every time our first kiss comes up! Couldn’t you have chosen a time when I look decent?”

“You’re ridiculous,” he declares flatly then leans over to press a quick peck to your lips again. “You’re always beautiful to me,” his lips brush against yours as he speaks.

“Hao…” You reach up to touch your fingers to his jaw gently. “Do you mean that?”

“When have I ever said something I don’t mean?”

“I…Good point,” you concede then tilt your chin up the miniscule distance needed to kiss him. You feel his lips turn up into a smile before he kisses you back.

“I want to clarify,” he says when he’s leaning against the table again, but he’s slouched more now so that he can comfortably hold your hand with your fingers laced together. “I really like you and I would like to date you, not just kiss. But I’d of course like to do that too, a lot, if possible.”

“Very possible,” you confirm with an emphatic nod that makes him giggle as the foils flop around your head comically. “I’ve been trying to ask this for so long now but tonight, please get dinner with me, as a date, not just friends.”

Minghao doesn’t answer at first, but he does light up with joy before he sweeps back in to kiss you happily, hands cupping your cheeks to brush his thumbs over your skin adoringly.

After many kisses, Minghao finally agrees to get dinner as your first date before you kiss, and kiss until he has to wash the bleach from your hair.

Then you kiss some more and barely make it to the restaurant in time to eat. You don’t mind not being able to order dessert when Minghao pulls you in close once outside of the restaurant and out of the way, to slot his lips adoringly against yours.

You’d pick kissing this beautiful man over dessert any day and you’re finally understanding that the feeling, your feelings, are entirely mutual.

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie, @tusswrites, @svtiddiess

[dollyrins]

　　　WiTHERiNG BLOSSOMS ─── PROLOGUE

[ SYNOPSiS ] — love wasn't always easy. it was especially hard when it was unrequited. and sometimes that one sided love can grow so strong that it starts to kill you. beautifully and painfully, just like the feeling itself.

[ WARNiNGS ] — very brief mention of blood

[ WORD COUNT ] — 402

[ TAGLiST ] — open please send an ask or comment if you'd like to be added!

[ RAV'S RADiO ] — a very happy birthday to Geto!! something short to start the series :)

Puppy love.

That’s the term the main lead uses to describe how she feels for her best friend. Your fingers glide over the words and you almost laugh at her. 

You’ve read this book a thousand times at least, and each time the ache of it gets more and more real. It’s not the protagonist you’re laughing at, it's yourself.

Olivia—the main character of the novel—sits on the roof of her house as she thinks of the man that captured her heart. She’s 19 now, and gushes about him to the stars and you know that in a few chapters she’ll be 20 speaking to the stars again, except tears will be in her eyes and petals that fall from her mouth in her hands. 

Yet you also know the fact that she will receive her happy ending. 

Flowers and thorns that grow in her will stop, as a new love interest will enter her world and give her everything she ever desires.

That’s what makes her different from you.

Because you know you won’t ever receive the same love you give. 

At least not in this life.

☆ —— ★

You had realized you were in love with Geto Suguru when you were 17 and in your second year of highschool. 

It didn’t happen overnight, but over the course of a few weeks as you noticed the little things. How your heart’s beating would quicken when he’d smile, how thoughts related to him would enter your mind randomly, the way you’d miss him constantly even if the two of you had just hung out, or how you’d always seek a way to make him smile.

Like the foolish protagonist you thought it was puppy love. 

That it’d be over and through with after a few weeks, maybe months. But oh how wrong you were.

The feeling stayed even after a year, strong as ever and you ached for the feeling of your best friend's lips on yours. For him to see you as you saw him. For his love.

Fear that he or someone else would notice started to settle into you. So you learned to mask your emotions, and make sure that no one would pick up on anything. 

Perhaps if you instead tried to make an effort to move on you wouldn’t be suffering as you were now. Maybe the love you longed for would’ve made its way to you.

© dollyrins do not plagiarize, translate, copy, repost my writing anywhere

[alexthebordercollie]

Going to bounce off of what you talked about with your thoughts regarding Stan's relationships and just say I totally know what you mean about shipping two characters together because it's funny!

Heck I ship Lazy Susan with both Stan and Ford because I just think the idea of her being with either of them to be extremely funny and cute lmaoo.

So sorry for the late reply (not been posting much for a while been sick and busy) but I actually have been playing around with Emma-Stan as a possible PapaFord ship ^3^

My Emma-may is mixed race and from a Ciphertologist family. She was too little when Billville was disbanded to remember it, but her family still practices behind closed doors. It was an incredibly toxic environment with very mentally unwell caretakers, and rumors that the Dixons were devil worshipers made her a social pariah. She befriended Fidds, who was the dweeby awkward baby of a family of five sons. Emma was his cool, scary friend who drove away the bullies and the two weirdos stuck together in a small town where neither of them were very popular.

She was Fiddleford's best friend, and as they got older, everyone just expected them to end up together. When Fiddleford went off to college, he promised to come back and marry her after getting his degree, which he did indeed do. Emma didn't know any other way at the time to get away from her family but to leave with Fidds. Their marriage grew increasingly rocky over the years due to Fidds being a closeted gay man (unbeknownst to Emma) and Emma being increasingly bored and frustrated by life as a housewife and mother. Emma-May is naturally hot-headed and brash and always has been. She's a loud strong strong-willed woman who doesn't fit well into other people's boxes. She's actually very clever in her own right and learned programming from Fiddleford. She got into making video games as a hobby. She simply never had access to the kind of educational opportunities Fiddleford got. I was going to make this a comic but I was having a hard time drawing this one for whatever reason so I decided to write a short fic instead I hope it still satisfies even though there are fewer pictures. -3-

That's your Ex-Wife?

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

"Thanks for comin' to help out."

Stan picked up the twang from around the corner. Heading out the kitchen side door and back to the truck. Ford's neurotic string bean of a boyfriend had speed walked ahead of them on the way over a caught Emma-May before they did. She'd gone off to run an errand with their boy and Fidds had let the Pines brothers in to start bringing in boxes without her. It sounded like she was back. Certainly sounded like Stan expected Fiddleford's wife to sound.

"Oh no it's nothin' it's the least we could do." Fidds insisted as he pulled another box from the back of the truck.

Stan watched as the box jerked Fidds arms down. He struggled for a second to catch it and tried to support the weight with his back. Flashing a pained smile around the truck.

"Yo Fidds, ya need help with that?" Stan offered as he approached.

He registered the woman's voice before he saw her face.

"Oh look, if it ain't the home wrecker," she snarked in that southern drawl.

Stan stopped shy of taking the box from Fiddleford and looked past him.

Holy shit, that was Emma-May?

Stanley didn't know much about Fiddleford's ex-wife. He'd seen the two argue on the phone a few times. Caught her voice in passing once or twice. Their son Tate had come to stay with them a few times while his folks were working out the divorce.

Stan knew Emma-May was hot headed woman but nothing could have prepared him for just how hot she was.

A light-skinned black lady greeted him curtly with her hands on her hips. Caramel skin and a mess of chocolate freckles. Dame looked like dessert. She had on a low-neckline paisley blouse with free titties underneath like the best kind of feminist hippie. Not that Stan was a fan of either of those things but he could certainly be convinced of both if it meant he got a peak of nips through the thin orange fabric. Fuck man… He'd been expecting a traditional southern housewife but those daisy dukes were giving anything but.

Stan coughed and cleared his throat as he registered what she called him. Homewrecker.

"Oh hey," Stan cooed, brushing back his mullet before offering her five fingers. "You must have me confused for my brother toots," He corrected. Stan held out his hand and flashed his best smile. "Stanley Pines, the hot twin," he introduced playfully.

"Hey!" Ford interjected as he rounded the corner just in time to hear Stan's introduction.

Eh fuck em, he could take a joke. Not like he had anyone to impress. He was already raising to kids with his live in partner. His bachelor life was dead, he could stop trying now. As if he ever had.

Emma-May popped the gum in her mouth and looked down at Stan's hand for a moment before she took it with a playful smile. "I see that," She snarked playfully back. She had a firm grip and gave Stan's hand a good shake. "Dunno how I ever got ya'll two confused, my bad sug."

Stan couldn't help but beam. Straightening up his coat as he pulled back to rock leisurely on his heels. "No hard feelings doll, it's an honest mistake."

Fiddleford groaned and rolled his eyes. "Yes Stanley here moved in to help out with the twins," he explained.

"I recall," Emma-may assured him. Arms crossed as she looked Stan up and down. "Tate's mentioned ya, says yer fun."

"Glad someone around here appreciates me," Stan laughed and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "He's a good kid."

Ford leaned in around Stan's shoulder and pointed back towards the house. "The twins are in the kitchen by the way," he warns. "I assure you the dog kennel I have them in is both entirely necessary and completely safe."

Emma-May jerked back a moment. Stan couldn't see her eyes but he could make an educated guess. "Ya'll keep yer babies in a kennel?!" She snapped at Fidds.

Fiddleford shrunk back holding the box to his chest. "I promise it ain't what it sounds like-"

"Newt can climb walls and Nick will chew through anything weaker than aluminum," Ford clarified, emphasizing his point with a hand gesture.

Emma-may winced and looked between the two Pines brothers before looking back at Fiddleford slightly horrified.

Fiddleford chuckled awkwardly and shrugged. "Welcome to Gravity Falls."

Emma-may snatched up the box Fiddleford was struggling with and hoisted it over her shoulder without breaking a sweat. "I swear ya better not make me regret comin' here," she snapped.

"I sure hope not," Stan stressed. "Man already blew it once, can't let him scare you off before someone else gets a shot."

Emma-may looked back a little surprised. She cracked and laughed into her knuckles. A cute little pig snort of a laugh. "Are you volunteering over there sharp shooter?" she teased.

Stan shot finger guns back at her with a click of his tongue and a wink. Grinning ear to ear.

Emma-may laughed harder and threw her head back. She slapped a juicy thigh and took a second to collect herself. Fuck, that laugh, Stan could get used to that laugh.

"Ain't ya bold mother fucker-"

"I mean," Stan shrugged, leaning in playfully. "Go big or go home, might as well aim for the hottest mama in town."

Emma-may smirked back at him. "Well, good luck with that slick. Let me know how it works out fer ya."

Emma turned to head back inside and Stan certainly couldn't complain. He'd never be disappointed watching that fine ass leave. Holy Moses, those shorts! That denim was working overtime to contain that much ass.

A harsh throat clearing pulled Stan's attention away. He turned to see Fiddleford glaring at him red faced. The twiggy blonde scarecrow looked so puffed up he pop a blood vessel. "What the fuck was that!?" he hissed, waving franticly in the direction Emma-May had left.

Stan looked back towards the open front door then turned his attention back to Fiddleford. "What?"

"Did you seriously just hit on my ex-wife?!" Fiddleford bocked in exasperation.

"Did you seriously leave a dime like that for my dweeby brother?" Stan huffed indignantly. Crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm right here." Ford whined from behind Fiddleford.

"Can it Sixer, this ain't about you," Stan dismissed.

"Could ya go check on the kiddos Sugarbear?" Fiddleford cooed sweetly.

Ford rolled his eyes and turned back to the truck bed. Scooping up a couple boxes and heading back inside. Fiddleford watched him leave before turning on Stan again. Jabbing his chest with a boney finger. "You listen up and you listen good," he warned. "You keep yer greasy paws off Emma-May, we clear?"

Stan furrowed his brow and frown. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Stan shoved Fiddleford back. Man was ninety pounds soaking wet, Stan wasn't about to let this little weasel push him around. He didn't care if he was his brother's boyfriend.

"Where do you get off getting all possessive now?" Stan snapped back. "You're the one who cheated, you didn't want her then but as soon as someone else is interested you wanna act you own her?"

Fiddleford growled back at him before collecting himself. Pulling back to rub the faint scar on his temple. "Look, we go way back ya understand? She's my best friend."

"I thought Stanford was your best friend," Stan snarked back with giant air quotes.

Fiddleford glowered at him. "I know how ya treat women Stanley," he leaned in again. Practically nose to nose with Stan. "If you hurt her, god have mercy on my soul cause I'm goin' to hell," he threatened.

Stan laughed and pulled back. Slapping Fiddleford's shoulder. "Ah fuck! HA! For what? Crying at me? You gonna tickle me with those noodle arms?" Stan hugged his gut to contain his laughter and wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh man, go right ahead and do your worst Fiddlesticks I ain't scared," he grinned back at Fiddleford.

"I mean it Stanley," Fiddleford insisted.

Stan gave his shoulder a light jab and watched the other man wobble and rub his arm. Still twisting up that squishy baby face of his with the meanest look he could muster. Stan offered him a sincere smile and a hand extended. "Look you wanna play better man be my guest. If I fuck up you better put your money where your mouth is."

Fiddleford frown down at Stan's hand before hesitantly reaching for it with a raised eyebrow.

Stan took Fidds hand and pulled it in. "And if I make that southern bell ring you back off like a real gentleman, ya got that?"

Fiddleford's frown wobbled irritably before he spat out a reluctant, "Fine."

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hello again, dear... Kind Words.

Forgive me. This may end up being... a difficult conversation. I am sure you are... tired. Of hearing the same thing over and over. But I think it would do good if we had a talk. Yes, about you and Jimmy. I know, I know. You may metaphysically roll your eyes at me, if you like. I don't blame you.

Not to worry, though; I am not here to point fingers and try to convince you that you were undeniably abused, and that Jimmy has always been a horrendous and irredeemable monster. That is not... how real people work, frankly. Humans are messy. Relationships can be... messier. Confounding. Be they romantic, platonic, or familial. I have been in these shoes before, my dear. I would like to offer, if nothing else... a bit of insight. Maybe it will help. Maybe it won't. Perhaps you'll be upset with me for saying what I will. And that would be okay. You are allowed to be. I would not be upset with you if you were, I promise.

Now... do you remember when I told you of my old friend? Let's call her Rebh, yes? For years, Rebh and I were inseparable. Practically joined at the hip. We did everything together - laughed, wept, screamed, danced... we loved one another very, very dearly. I truly... I truly thought that we would spend the rest of our lives together. Even at my tender age, I was ready to do that for her.

Over time, though, something... changed. I do not know if it was her; I do not know if it was me. Hindsight tells me that perhaps it was the both of us. Regardless, she became... different. Frustrated, I think. Colder, and apathetic towards our friendship. I sensed this, and drew myself inwards; I became more sensitive to her moods, her whims, her thoughts. I did not want to displease her. I wanted - I needed her approval more than anything else in the world. While she was... hungry, for want of something that she lacked in her life. A form of control, perhaps, or power. Maybe there isn't a difference. I don't think I will ever know.

Please listen to me, Curly. She never struck me. She never screamed at me. She never openly berated me. She never did anything that one would traditionally constitute as "abuse." Perhaps it would have been easier if she had. Perhaps I would have seen the signs sooner. But it was small things, such small little things, that coalesced over time. She saw my need for her and used it against me. She made me feel small, and unseen. And, feeling small, I clung to her and some semblance of comfort and reassurance. She despised my clinginess, and so pushed me away and made me feel even smaller. And so it continued. Again. And again. And again.

Eventually, this cycle broke. Quite... explosively, for lack of a better term. But those details are not as important right now.

In many ways, the way you speak about Jimmy always brings me back to this time in my life. Forgive me for presuming the intricacies of your relationship with him; I can only infer. But you have expressed before that talking to him can be like walking on eggshells. Nervousness, uncertainty. He seems like his anger can be... explosive. Wrathful. He is highly insecure about himself and his place in this world. And then he takes that insecurity out on others - on you - sometimes in small ways, and sometimes in much bigger ways.

He takes it out on you because he feels safe to do so. You are his best friend, and he knows that you will not retaliate or leave him. (Much like I feared to do with Rebh, because I loved her. And my love blinded me. Utterly.) He has weaponized your love for him against you.

And you, my dear, are much like myself. When he attacks you - be it physically, emotionally, or verbally - you draw inwards. You don't wish to exacerbate his insecurities, right? Of course you don't. So you shut down to pacify him, and in doing so, internalize his opinion of you. You make yourself small. And in turn, he feels better for having that power over you, whether he realizes it or not. From the surface, it seems like it works, doesn't it? You are... the best of friends.

But this is... an inherently unhealthy relationship. It is not always abusive. It does not always start out as abuse, either. But it can spiral into it so very, very quickly. (He seemed to be able to hit you when you were defenseless so easily, didn't he? I am sorry to bring that up; it breaks my heart to, believe me. But we must acknowledge it.) And the fact of the matter is that abuse is not always physical, and it is not always red in the face with anger. Tender Rebh taught me as much. Do you know what she said to me once? She said that I... would never be capable of truly loving another human being. She said it to me without prejudice or judgement, without anger, without a hint of malice behind it. As thought it were just... a simple fact of my life. Or a flaw of mine that she was so graciously accepting of. And though now I recognize them for the cruel words they are, there was a very, very long time where I believed her. Honestly, sometimes... I still do. And it tears me apart inside.

I would like to tell you of another friend I had once, as well. I will call her Bea. I lost touch with her a while ago, but I do hope that she is doing better these days.

There was a day when Bea came to me in tears and confessed that her boss had been harassing her at work. For a while, in fact. And she was so, terribly consumed with shame. I tried to console her, to tell her that being in her place was neither dirty nor shameful, and that she was very brave for coming forward to me for help. But she told me that that wasn't the reason for it. At least, not the whole reason.

Two weeks prior, there was a new hire at her workplace, and Bea's boss was the one to be training the young lady directly. Bea told me she had been terrified of him harassing the new girl, too - but she was too afraid to speak up about it, and didn't know who to turn to. She was scared of him, and she was scared of losing her job. She was scared of judgement from others.

Unfortunately, the worst came to fruition; that morning that Bea had come to me, the young lady had erupted into a fit of tears over the boss's harassment. Bea tried to console her, then. The young lady asked her if she was the only person this had happened to, and Bea couldn't bear to hide the truth from her. And the young lady asked why Bea hadn't warned her - why she would just... let something like that happen again.

Do you... blame Bea? Maybe some people would. I did not; she was my friend, and I understood being scared. I understood feeling small, and helpless. I am not saying she did the right thing. Or... the wrong thing. Truthfully, I still don't have the answer as to what she should have done. I don't have the answer as to what... you could have done. Having an ideal of the right thing to do and actually having the ability to do it are... very often far removed from each other. I think most fail to understand how difficult it is to speak up when you have been conditioned into silence. It is even more difficult to act on the behalf of another person when you cannot begin to do so for yourself. Abuse is the theft of self-respect and autonomy.

Maybe you think it useless to reflect on now, but I must respectfully disagree with you. I am not saying it will change anything, and that is... unfortunate, I know. But I do think it is important for you to try and... recognize, and understand, and reconcile with Jimmy's treatment of you, and how that has played a part in all of this. And how your job has, too, much like with Bea. I think this is the main intent of what some of these other voices have been trying to express to you, with... varying degrees of success.

All this to say, my dear, darling Curly... in these ways, I think that you are like me. And I think that you are like my friend Bea. And I think that you are like Anya. We have all had someone like Rebh, like Jimmy, who has made us feel small and powerless. Whether or not you wish to define it as "abuser" and "victim" is for you to decide - I do not use these terms to describe my past relationship with Rebh either, and that is okay. I understand it can be... dehumanizing, in a way. To be regarded as a poor and helpless victim whose entire life revolves around their suffering. But you must understand that this is not who you are. This is not who I am. This is not Anya, or Bea, or that young lady. It does not make you small, or weak, or helpless. You are so, so much more than that. You are more than what Jimmy would define you as. I would tell Anya much the same, if I could.

I believe... that is all that I wished to say.

Thank you for listening to me, dear. Truly. For having always listened to me, in earnest. I know I have a tendency to ramble. I do hope I didn't upset you too much, but I felt it was... something you needed to hear. Do not worry if it doesn't seem to "click" right away. These things can take time to process.

Just know that no matter what, I am still proud of you. If you need to scream, if you need to cry, if you simply need some quiet time - I am here for you now.

Hey!!

...Okay. I'm not rolling my eye, don't worry. That'd hurt. (Wait, you said metaphysically. Eh, not doing that either.)

Thanks. Don't think I'll be upset with you. I'm glad you're trying to help. Sorry I've been so... unhelpable. You all must be tired of this by now. I know I am.

I'm sorry that you went through that. Sounds terrifying to have someone stop loving you that way.

...

I was always promising him I wouldn't leave. He always needed control. He got nervous without it. I didn't think... It wasn't anything wrong on its own, was it? It was all the little things. The big picture.

(Yes. He did. Still don't understand how it was so easy. Terrified me.) I don't think... that's true, what she said about you. From what I've seen from you, it's anything but.

And you think... that's why I didn't help her. Because I was like your friend. Because I was— scared of him.

I don't think I do blame her. I can't. She's not me. She's Anya letting Jimmy give me the pills. You can't blame her. She has reason to be afraid. She has reason to let him do whatever he wants. It's not the same. ...But the young woman can't be me either because she was an innocent and she actually had the courage to do something about it. They're both Anya. I don't know. Real life analogies don't work perfectly.

"Having an ideal of the right thing to do and actually having the ability to do it are... very often far removed from each other. I think most fail to understand how difficult it is to speak up when you have been conditioned into silence. It is even more difficult to act on the behalf of another person when you cannot begin to do so for yourself. Abuse is the theft of self-respect and autonomy."

Oh.

No. No, she should have been reason enough, yeah?

...Why is is so important? What does it matter? I still— he still— it's me. It can't be him. I— I'm not supposed to be angry at anyone else. That makes things worse. I have to— it's my job to be calm about it. It's my responsibility to, to take the fall, to let him say whatever he needs so that it doesn't get worse, and I couldn't— If someone wants to scream at me they probably have a good fucking reason for it and I'm supposed to let them and not argue back because they wouldn't do it if they didn't need to and if I ever fucking try to stop them they'll be gone. I have to be agreeable, it's all I've ever had going for me is that I'm agreeable, the only reason anyone ever bothers to— He needed someone who would stay no matter what, of course I had to put up with his shit, no one else would! I should have been able to handle him, damn it, I should have noticed the signs and stopped him before he— He never meant anything he said and if he did it was true, I knew that, he knew that, it was fine it wasn't any reason to have my heart pounding whenever we were alone or in a group or anywhere if he seemed the slightest bit off, never tried to really hurt me and if he did it wouldn't matter because I could defend myself back then! It— I'm not—

There isn't an excuse!

...

But I am those things, yeah? I am small and weak and helpless in a million ways I wasn't before. I'm not like you or her. I can't help anyone the way you've both helped me. She tried to get help. You got away somehow. I could never have— I really appreciate what you're trying to say but my entire life revolves around suffering. Even the things you all say are either to distract or add to the pain. I can't— I'm so tired, M-

why does it feel so right calling you that i shouldn’t-

He'd define me as something malleable. Something he can make do whatever he wants with barely any pushback. And he'd be right. Wouldn't he? Wouldn't he? All that strength and success and look where it got me. Didn't do anything and now I can't.

You're right about her though. He doesn't understand how she is. No one does. The things she does for me—

Yeah. Thank you for... everything. It's all right. I was already upset. At least now it's for a more important reason.

...

Thank you.

Please just don't go. Please. Just stay with me this time. I don't want to keep trying to survive. I'm so tired of trying. I want to rest, I want to go home, I want a hug that doesn't fucking hurt me and I want someone to see how fucking terrible I am and still lo— still care and I want to be held and have it not hurt and be told it'll be okay and I can't.

I'm sorry. I—

I'm really glad I have you.