#when he made our lives significantly worse

[thundergrace]

If you want to be educated on the "welfare queen" stereotype in a hilarious and informative and thorough manner, I will once again recommend this episode of You're Wrong About

#annnd there's Reagan #truly no wonder why the GOP idolizes him #less clear is why I've been hearing Black folk call Clinton the first Black president all my life #when he made our lives significantly worse #welfare #government aid #government assistance

[comfortless]

what's ur most unconventional Headcanon? like ones you have that most of the fandom doesn't agree with. mine is that I don't think h's 6'10, in my mind he's closer to 6'6 or 6'7. Also I don't think he would be the most caring bf 😶😶 like not abusive or anything, but to me he will almost always prioritize himself in the long run

HA… well….. i do not think any of mine are too strange! but i can not ever shush when someone has lent an ear to listen!!

warning for nsfw content, mentions of injury, and unhealthy relationship stuff below the cut.

i agree with you about his height. he’s significantly taller than Simon, but i would place him at 6’7”-6’8” max. i’m no health or military expert, but i do not think that he could do the work that he does efficiently if he were a complete Goliath. he would stand out so easily! and there are a slew of issues that can stem from someone being “too tall”. he probably doesn’t have the best posture, either.

i love the conventionally attractive, long-haired König headcanons, they’re fun! but ultimately… very, very unrealistic for my interpretation of König. i tend to side with Salome and Ghost when it comes to their takes on how he actually looks under the hood. his character description suggests that his face is scary, and judging by the game that he’s in, i do not think that the other operators are going to find some goth guy nor… Jim Boeven… to be worthy of such a rumor!

König’s face is always going to be a fluctuating thing for me, heavily dependent on the setting/time period i’m shoving him into or reading about. the thing that’s stuck with me however has always been facial scarring!! where he got it? who knows… i mentioned it on my headcanons post, but the cause is just as changing as his appearance.

i like the thought of him being a little different looking: crooked teeth, pockmarks, maybe a harelip or a broken nose, burn scars, something. maybe his hair is so light it simply looks as if he doesn’t have eyebrows. maybe a combination of all of those things! the less conventionally attractive the better, it’s not his face that had us scrambling from the rafters with our hearts in our hands, after all. though i am and always will be a glitched default face model König defender. it’s just so unbearably adorable to think of that soft, sad-eyed face making that much noise while he’s rushing around in battle. ):

and though i believe he would have the best intentions at heart… you are right, he is likely a very selfish lover. still hopelessly devoted and needy, but he would be the king of double standards. most decisions are made with his preferences in mind, and the bullying has stuck with him. König is insecure as hell when it comes to anything but his skills in killing or bashing through a door.

he likes the idea of you dressing up for him, but he’s also actively pulling up your dress/top to hide your cleavage if he even thinks another man may have glanced your way. yet… he will go to the gym shirtless, and if other women happen to ogle him, well it’s just fine because he didn’t notice them anyway.

you don’t like the house you’re living in when you move in together? well he does, you’re staying… he’ll just fix it up a little to better suit your needs. even if he screws up setting up a new counter or painting, that can all be fixed.

you want to go out with your friends? he should be allowed to come with you… spending time with you makes him happy. why wouldn’t you want him to come too? yet, when he wants time alone to focus on his aim, decompress with a book, or mess around with a vehicle or a house project, you’re expected to leave him be.

he’s too blunt about what he does for work, doesn’t bat an eye when he tells you he put a bullet through someone’s head and watched the spray. he’s so used to it, it doesn’t even faze him anymore, but… you don’t want to hear about it? oh that must mean you think he’s something filthy or worse. he’s not going to cry, but he might bring it up when you tell him about something you enjoy.

just ridiculous, petty things that would drive most up a wall, but he’s firm in whatever he decides. there’s always a little room for compromise, but not much without an argument.

he has his savings account and the house is in his name in case you decide to leave. it would gut him, of course, but a part of him also expects it.

he’s not above begging for you to stay, trying any way that he can to convince you, but… he’s never expected to have things handed to him easily. his childhood wasn’t the best, why would his adulthood be any better? the way he sees it is simple: he doesn’t hit you, his cock and heart are reserved solely for you, if you can’t love him enough to stay, then… maybe you’re not any different from the people he’s known before.

he’s self aware enough to know he can be a complete arschloch, thinks with his cock more than his brain, but he’s completely lost when it comes to matters like love. he wants to console you when you cry, when you’re angry, but asking you a dozen times just why you feel such a way while squishing you into a too-tight embrace doesn’t help much. his search history is filled with things like “why is my girlfriend mad at me” or “how to make a woman stop ignoring me”. his communication toward you isn’t great, but he tries in his own way. very easy to break an argument up when he tells you some silly, scripted thing like, “I’m here for you. I’m listening.” when under normal circumstances he’s staring at you with wide-eyes and swallowing hard the very second you seem a little ruffled. you tell him to stop reciting some guide he read online, and he’s immediately worried sick you’re going to think him a complete fool, in utter denial about ever having searched something like that up.

can’t see him as being god’s gift to women in the bedroom at all. König has probably watched a lot of porn. he doesn’t care for the scripted, practiced stuff, but his tastes have always been a little odd. the amateur, solo stuff is what piques his interest the most. he knows a vibrator can make a woman come, knows that a dildo can be nice too if she sets the pace. what he’s watched with a proper couple, well… the men are always smaller than him. the terms and dynamics are lost on him, he knows what a safe word is and that he should be a gentleman and make sure his partner finishes too, but each time that’s happened has been a miracle really. he’s not a virgin, but he’s never had a partner long enough to bother learning. if he can make you feel good and vice versa, that’s enough, right..?!

he’s not going to bludgeon you with his dick, he knows he’s a bit too big and thick to just fuck you recklessly, but often times he does get excited or fretful— too deep or too shallow, flicks your clit like it’s indestructible or keeps his head between your thighs waaay after you’ve already come. he’ll stop when you ask, when you’re teary eyed and overstimulated repeating the ridiculous German word he makes you use. not above begging you to use your hand on him instead, though…

switching positions is difficult if you’re a lot smaller than him. he’s not against having you on your knees, but he wants to be so close, pant into your ear about how good you feel, smother you with his weight all the while. missionary is a nightmare because he’s drooly and comes far too quickly when he can see your face and overpower you like this, cue further squishing even after he’s done; you’re likely going to be lying beneath him all night. cowgirl seems to work best, though he’s a bit too fond of having your tits so accessible - expect biting!!

when i try to think of König with any sort of hobby my mind just blanks. i think he would try a lot, but never stick to one thing! he’s got a few sporadic collections, but nothing he keeps up with to the same caliber as his guns and knives. books are often half-finished these days, keeping focused long enough to sit through a puzzle or the like is rare. definitely longs to have something for comfort that isn’t some winding trail to no where or suffocating you in himself to just have a hint of what it feels like to be entirely happy and ‘normal’.

he’s become a bit of an amalgamation of all of the things he liked as a child: knights with their swords he thinks of as his knives, deities with bolts of thunder cascading from their hands like the bullets from his guns, loves in the way he read men of myths fall in love - utterly unfathomably devoted but always the leader… if he could he would probably whisk himself and the object of his affection to another place entirely where he could be someone deserving: someone who’s loved despite the way that he looks or behaves, someone who’s never had to question what love was at all.

[wistfulcynic]

a non-izzy-centric reading of the events of season two

i didn't really want to get into this because it's so, so tiresome and i'd rather talk about the things i loved about this season. Poison, positivity, etc. But.

reading this post about people doubting their own judgement due to the overwhelming noise from Izzy stans along with a rewatch of season two from start to finish made me realise that i too had been influenced by a year and a half of being intensely frustrated by people insisting so loudly that OFMD was in fact the Izzy Hands Show. My initial issues with S2 mostly stemmed from overcompensating for that by resenting any development of Izzy on the screen because i did not want it to feed those people. Which meant that i also was centring Izzy in a way that he should not be centred! i was letting their noise lead me to read him as far more important than he actually is.

So i looked back at several points from the season that had me feeling uncomfortable and which, from a cursory browse through the Izzy tag i've concluded his stans see as a contradiction or a betrayal or something and re-evaluated them from the perspective of Izzy not being a main fucking character.

point one: "He's our dick."

When Archie (a newcomer and therefore a fairly effective audience stand-in for anyone not balls deep in fandom bullshit) asks Jim why they're going to so much trouble for Izzy, who she has immediately clocked as "kind of a dick", Jim gives this response. Which, if you think Izzy is important, may read as an expression of reluctant fondness. But then, Jim continues: "There was a time when life meant something on this ship. When we lived for each other, not just to survive." These lines are punctuated by a flashback to the famous Revenge crew found-family Renaissance-painting moment. Jim is nostalgic for the "good old days" of the Revenge under Stede's people-positive management style. It is out of respect for that (seemingly) lost way of life that they take the trouble for Izzy, not for Izzy himself. They'd have done the same for anyone, because they desperately want life to matter again. Izzy, as the person whose gamy leg is a direct result of his threatening Ed and bringing the kraken era down on all of them, is simply the one whose life happens to be on the line.

(honestly, i love this from Jim, who was one of Stede's boldest detractors in season one and still the crew member most likely to call him out on his bullshit. That's your "reluctant fondness" moment right there.)

point two: the new unicorn

apparently Izzy stans see the gift of the unicorn leg prosthetic as a symbol of deep love and respect from the crew to Izzy. Which is an absolutely wild reading when you look at what led up to it.

There's tension on the ship. Divisions. Lucius is chain-smoking and jump-scared by his own shadow. Jim, Archie, Frenchie, and Fang are overcome by guilt over their mutiny and frantically scrubbing nonexistent blood from the deck in what is a fantastically darkly funny Lady Macbeth moment for them. Izzy is sloppy drunk and yelling nonsensical abuse at the unicorn masthead. Roach, Pete, Oluwande, and Wee John make a well-intentioned but ill-conceived attempt to bring everyone back together (i say "everyone" but Izzy, significantly, is not included) which leads to them all being at each other's throats in the sort of mutually-assured-destruction configuration that starts world wars. It's a great scene. Izzy is not a part of it.

until he interrupts them, throws the unicorn legs at them and in his drunken clumsiness breaks his prosthetic. He then pointedly refuses their offers of assistance and drags himself away along the floor by his arms.

my friends. This is peak pathos. The crew do not respect Izzy in this moment, they feel sorry for him. They realise that he's worse off than any of the rest of them and that knowledge brings them back together. Making the unicorn prosthetic is barely about Izzy at all. It's about the crew coming together, repairing the rifts in their found family and as a bonus helping out their grumpy second cousin who doesn't really want to be there but has nowhere else to go. It's also a very generous offer of a new place on the ship--as the new unicorn--and a fresh start. Because that's what life on the Revenge is. For everyone.

point three: la vie en rose

much has been made of Izzy putting on drag makeup and singing at the Calypso birthday party, and fair enough. That's a big character development point for him. i don't hate it, though i wish there'd been more build-up to it, a longer conversation between Izzy and Wee John at least (insert obligatory "fuck Max" here) but regardless, if we accept Izzy's amputated leg as cutting off his old self and replacing it with the unicorn then we can arrive at a place where he's able to participate in a drag performance without too much cognitive gymnastics.

i've written before about the curious choice to have Izzy sing La Vie En Rose in French (after he initially sang it in English) at the very moment when Ed and Stede are having sex for the first time. On first watch i felt viscerally troubled by it, it felt like a validation of the obsessive psychosexual reading of Izzy's feelings for Ed. Looking at the season as a whole, it feels more like a (cringy, creepy, waaaay over the line) attempt on his part to signal approval for Ed and Stede's relationship. Especially when taken in conjunction with his (super creepy, like wtf who greenlit this) interruption of their breakfast in bed the next morning to make a ham-fisted innuendo. Weird but okay i guess, it's not like Izzy and social niceties have ever gone hand in hand.

many people point to the drag scene as the crew embracing Izzy and welcoming him as one of them. Again, i don't disagree. But, also again, this is not specific to Izzy. This is just what they do. They also embraced Archie with her snake-cult stories, they re-embraced Ed (who yes, they do love, refutations of arguments that they don't love Ed are a whole other essay though) and later they embrace Zheng and Auntie and also Jackie who once stole their savings jar and threatened to cut off their noses. That's what they do! They embrace people! That's what the show is about!

point four: the death scene

i have to be honest, i still hate this. i don't hate that Izzy died, i hate that he died in Ed's arms with Ed calling him his only family. That still feels unearned to me, and alas was probably another victim of the shortened season. But even with this extremely kind and forgiving death scene, the stans are not satisfied! They feel that the entire crew should have been gathered round, assuring Izzy of their profound love for him. There should have been weeping at the funeral, wailing and gnashing of teeth, rending of garments etc. It's what he deserves as such a beloved member of the crew!

except he wasn't beloved. He was accepted, yes. Welcomed, even. But acceptance is a far cry from love. Cheering as someone sings a song at a party does not mean you feel ready to weep at their deathbed or proclaim your undying affection for them.

yet even so, the crew are visibly distraught at his death scene. There are tears in many eyes! But effusive declarations of feeling from any one of them other than Ed would have felt (to anyone not convinced Izzy is the main character) completely wrong and very weird. You can headcanon what you like to fill the gaps in canon but on screen we have seen very few meaningful interactions between Izzy and any of the existing crew aside from Fang and Lucius and to a lesser extent Wee John. Izzy's primary relationship with another character is with Ed and so, as much as i still don't like it, Ed is the only one who has any real reason to be at Izzy's side as he dies.

as for the brevity of the funeral and the fact that they went straight from it to Pete and Lucius's wedding instead of having, idk, a prolonged wake at which everyone speaks at length about how important Izzy was to them, i mean. Obviously that wasn't going to happen. More than enough screen time had already been given to a side character who spent most of it either being miserable himself or making others so. It was time for the rest of them to find some moments of joy. As Izzy himself said, not moving on is worse.

in conclusion, i'd like to address the people saying that Izzy should have lived so he could continue his arc of self-discovery and sure, that would have been great--on the Izzy Hands Show. But OFMD is about Ed and Stede and Izzy had served his purpose in their story. i feel certain there will be copious fanfics to soothe anyone who feels Izzy was shortchanged.

on the show, though, he was treated in a very logical and foreseeable way as the antagonist who was able to see the light at the end but not necessarily to thrive in such a well-lit environment. Literature (by which i mean also films and tv) abounds with examples of this sort of character. They see the error of their ways but they are too stuck in them, shaped by them, to exist comfortably in any other way. They help bring about change to benefit others and not for themselves, that is the bittersweet beauty of their endings.

Izzy let Ed go. He embraced the softer parts of himself. He died surrounded by people who may not have loved him but at least accepted him as one of their own and felt genuine sorrow about his passing. That is a satisfying narrative end for a reformed antagonist! If you truly feel that he was shortchanged by it then you have forgotten what show you're watching and what sort of character he was.

Izzy Hands: not the main character, still an interesting one, absolute nightmare, what a guy.

#our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd season two #izzy critical #the izcourse #izzy hands meta #sorry not sorry to people who are going to hate this post but writing it has been therapeutic for me #i'm tired of hating a character on a show i love so much so i shall go back to thinking of him as the nasty rat man and focusing on faves #saira has Thoughts

[utilitycaster]

The Twins in the Feywild

or, the adaptation is good, actually:

The thing about the Feywild arc in the Legend of Vox Machina is that it's not just a simple condensing of 20-ish hours into perhaps one hour; it's also at a notably different point in the story, and is changed to reflect that.

[as a sidebar: I am not tagging spoilers for Critical Role Campaign 1, as the episodes in question are 5+ years old. This post does have a large number of them, and in general, if you are new to CR and found this via the TLOVM tag, welcome! My blog will have spoilers for the campaign.]

In Campaign 1, after the Sunken Tomb and the encounter with Kamaljiori (who survives in the campaign, incidentally), all of Vox Machina heads towards Westruun. Grog has his (also different from TLOVM, also condensed in a thoughtful way that may be discussed in a separate post) struggles with Craven Edge, and they all encounter the Herd of Storms, deal with them, and kill Umbrasyl. The episode after they have killed the first of the four dragons responsible for the Conclave attacks, Umbrasyl the Hope Devourer, is aptly named Hope; they then go to Vasselheim where Vax formalizes his relationship to the Raven Queen, and then deal with Hotis back in Whitestone. The Deathwalker's Ward's flight power is also activated. Then they go to the Feywild, together (though Pike stays behind again due to Ashley's schedule.) In general, Vax has made peace with his decision, and the party is, for the most part, much more optimistic than they are here.

Here, all four dragons are still at large, Keyleth's spell was interrupted, Vax is still on edge, and the last thing they saw was Pike, impaled on Grog's sword. They are doing far worse.

So, understandably, Vax is in a sour mood the entire trip. This significantly changes his role, as he's less able to offer support for Vex. Keyleth is also more insecure.

The episode in Syngorn in the main campaign, which was also, notably, Critical Role's first ever live show with the tech hiccups and nerves that implies, is actually pretty funny. We do get the twins' encounter with Syldor - more on that later - but a large portion of the episode is dedicated towards stealing hats and trying to find a threshold crest for Garmelie (with Keyleth and Percy eventually outsmarting him on a technicality, in true Fey fashion); and the party accidentally implying and then fully leaning into implication that they are polyamorous and need a room so that they can have an orgy. I've seen indications that Syngorn was much grimmer than that; while the twins were understandably frustrated with it, it was far from a dark episode.

With the caveat that I have not read Kith and Kin, Syldor Vessar is one of the characters in Critical Role canon whom I feel the fandom has the most warped perception. He is a dick, to be clear; but on a scale of living character parents, he is treated with a vitriol the far worse Howaardt Darrington and Thoreau Lionett oddly dodge, and it says something that Tary and Beau never to our knowledge attempt to interact with their fathers again, whereas Vex maintains a distant and at times contentious but minimally cordial relationship with hers. (It's not unique for parents in this show to be given the madonna/whore treatment, as others have noted, and parents who fall most towards the middle of that false dichotomy tend to bear the brunt of it - see the Calloways and the Gentleman - but Syldor's treatment is, to be honest, inexplicable and weird.)

In "Heredity and Hats," Syldor is not warm or pleasant, but he does, in fact, apologize at length for his behavior and accepts that the twins have reason to hate him when he offers his assistance. (1x60, 47:58) He also accepts Percy's correction of Vex's title in full, and indeed, seems pleased by it (1x60, 55:22). He is not a good person, but he is, by the time the twins see him in the Feywild, a penitent one. And, in this episode, Vax is the one who is largely unconcerned with Syldor, with the implication he's already given up on him and doesn't particularly care, whereas Vex is much angrier.

However, that's all very difficult to convey in TLOVM in under ten minutes, when Vex's upcoming showdown with Saundor hinges on her insecurity surrounding how she was perceived in the past and her ongoing struggles with powerlessness. So in that, Syldor is far more dismissive, and Vax, who is still, as mentioned, in a very angry place himself, is, well, angry. It is a different tack! It also is a very smart choice given that in a campaign that lasts hundreds of hours, the rule is show don't tell; and in an animated series that must compress this into a tiny fraction of that time, that rule is lifted. This is not a time for the subtle background of Vex's C1 arc. There is no time for the subtle background of Vex's C1 arc. What matters is that the adaptation is consistent within itself; achieves the general, for lack of a better term, vibes and major plot beats of the original campaign; and can reach an audience unfamiliar with the source material. We can't make Syldor fascinatingly complex and Vax blasé here, so we don't, so that we can understand why Saundor is able to cut so close to the core of Vex before she's able to pull away.

It's different! And, yes, as someone who does like something very long-form and subtle and show-not-tell, I do prefer the original! I also think that within the limitations of an animated show with 6-hour seasons, with the assumption that the Feywild arc starts here (that is, with Vax still where he is emotionally, Umbrasyl alive, and Grog, Scanlan, and Pike absent), trying to otherwise keep things the same would feel artificial and unsatisfying, and fail to serve Vex's story. It is changed to heighten it in a medium that needs heightening because there's no time for breadth, and you can dislike it, but criticizing it for not being identical to the original is a particularly egregious missing of the point.

(It's also worth keeping in mind: have you rewatched this arc recently? Are you even comparing it to the story as it was, or are you comparing it to the story you remember, because, like it or not, Vex's story was always very much about her relationships to Syldor, Vax, and Percy, and her need to be liked; her flaw was that she simultaneously desperately needed people and hated herself for it.)

#i made a shitpostier version of this i've queued but like. hm. #i think the best way to put it is that a lot of people REALLY love to Strong Female Character Vex (and Keyleth) #while thinking they are absolutely not doing so #and it is. shall we say. irritating. #tlovm #tlovm spoilers #long post #critical role

[screamforyani]

r u mine?

pairing ↠ jj maybank x (f) reader x ethan landry

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, angst, unprotected sex, best friend!jj, panty thief!jj, violence, murder, mentions of blood, character death

summary ↠ jj doesn’t like your old best friend and it shows. it’s not like he even tries to hide it. you don’t know if it’s possible to keep him both happy and safe in the fight for survival.

wc ↠ 5.7k

author’s note ↠ pt. 2/4 of the still friends, not lovers series. feedback is appreciated!

“He had you hurt.”

Nothing but silence filled the patio. Matter of fact, apart from the hisses you smothered with a lip bite, it had been off-puttingly silent until now. Whether or not you preferred it over the fussing was a good question. 

Your parents (obviously) weren’t home. Given the news of the recent attacks, they were locking up the shop before the newly implemented curfew arrived. No sooner had you made sure Ethan was alive and okay than you drove back home and called JJ over. 

Naturally, calling your best friend was your first move. Save for the burden of feelings flush against your chest, you never kept anything from him. 

“We were both caught off guard. There was nothing he could do,” you mumbled under your breath, feeble. 

He hadn’t been there to see the things that you saw or hear the things that you heard. Ethan told you that he loved you. He sacrificed his life to protect you from a literal killer. He was willing to have something way worse than a slice to the shoulder happen to him for your own survival. 

JJ shook his head, declaring, “I would have never let anything happen to you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” JJ insisted, wrapping a sterile bandage around your arm. 

You sighed. “Why do you hate him? He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Hate is a strong word,” he replied distractedly, wiping your blood off. “I don’t know. I just hate the guy.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. This boy was impossible. But you loved him and that was why you were trying to hear him out. “So, you hate him for no reason?”

“No, no - there’s a reason for everything. I just don’t know what it is yet,” JJ said, sounding like his typical self. “I just have a gut feeling.”

Sitting up on the lounge chair, you cocked him a look. “Let me get this straight. You hate him because you got a vibe.”

“Not a vibe. A gut feeling,” JJ corrected. Like there was a discernible difference. 

Your two best friends’ dislike of each other made you feel cornered. Ethan was significantly less obvious and unabashed about his feelings, but you noticed the way he’d stiffen a little at the mention of your current best friend. Maybe if they tried to like each other, things would be easier on your end, but you knew that would never happen. 

You really needed a new plan.

For whatever reason, JJ felt the need to continue, “I’m just saying what are the odds that as soon as those guys show up, bodies start dropping like flies.”

“It’s summertime and we live on an island. I’m sure they’re not our only visitors,” you reminded monotonously, as if you were bored of this conversation. 

You were.

Like none of that mattered, JJ suggested, “Or B, he’s a serial killer.”

Irritated, you shot, “Jesus fucking Christ, Jayj. When are you going to be honest with yourself and admit you’re just jealous?”

If you wanted to go the whole mile, JJ was willing to race you there. “Me - jealous? You think I care that much?”

“Obviously, you do,” you hissed. 

JJ’s first instinct was to run. He couldn’t let you be right. “You know what, if you wanna run all over the island with him, cool. Just don’t call me when shit hits the fan.”

“JJ,” you shouted after him. 

There was no point. JJ was already hopping over your back fence, coming out the way he had come in. His motorbike was parked behind your house just in case he needed to make a quick escape. Your mother would have a heart attack if they found out he was in their house alone with you and your father would kill him. 

JJ mounted his bike and started to leave. You gawked. Leave it to him to disappear. Any sudden moves and you would scare him away. 

Shaking your head in reproach, you turned to sit back on the lounge chair. Unbelievable, you wanted to scoff under your breath. Given your nature, you’d gotten into your fair share of arguments with JJ throughout the years, but this felt like the stupidest. And there were many, many stupid fights. 

Accusing Ethan of being a serial killer was the last straw for you. You were sick of him making assumptions about somebody he knew nothing about. That was JJ, though. He acted like he knew everything. 

Still, you weren’t really mad at him. Just frustrated. There was so much happening. Way too soon. And when he blew up like that you got scared to tell him how you felt. 

You decided that you would be keeping your feelings to yourself. Not telling him things didn’t feel right, but it was for his own good. What good would it do to tell him that you slept with your old best friend but you thought you still liked him?

None whatsoever. He would rage. 

You heaved a breath. Just when you thought that you had it all figured out, shit got complicated all over again. Before Ethan came, you were certain about your feelings. You planned to confess to JJ sometime this summer. 

Now, you were torn. Was it possible to be in love with two people at once? Not to mention your best friend was totally off-limits. 

Your phone pinged. Your heart raced at the thought that it was JJ, or maybe even Ethan, but you were slightly disappointed when you saw that it was Sarah. 

sarah: i know you’re in the middle of boy drama but don’t forget that there’s a party tomorrow night 

you: me? boy drama? pfft

sarah: right haha so funny 

sarah: bring a date?

you: you’re my date duh

sarah: not sure if john b will like that 

you: i’ll fight him

sarah: i’ll be holding the camera 

You giggled. Fuck, you definitely needed it. 

A party with all of your good friends to take your mind off your boy drama (as she had aptly named) didn’t sound like the worst thing ever. There was just one thing. A literal killer was on the loose. Granted, it was before curfew, but that wouldn’t prevent a strike. 

The police couldn’t have the event canceled, but you heard that they would be supervising the event. As far as you were concerned, Shoupe was still convinced your friends were behind the attacks and was probably hoping to use a gathering to bait you out. 

Nonetheless, when five o’clock the following came, you were at Topper’s clad in a turtleneck and your favorite mini skirt. To be honest, you were a little antsy about partying on the kooks’ turf. Specifically because whenever kooks or pogues were on the wrong side of the island everything took a wild turn.

Every time without fail. 

“I don’t want no trouble from you tonight, young lady,” Shoupe said when you made the misfortunate mistake of passing his car. 

You pivoted on your heels, forcing the sweetest smile. “I’ll be on my best behavior, sir, but I really hope you’re giving them a similar speech.”

You cocked your head at Topper, Rafe, and Kelce, who were currently huddled together cracking jokes by the drink bar. 

Shoupe had some jokes to get off of his own and asked, “Ain’t that your boyfriend?”

Wrong former kook, you thought irritably. “I believe you’re thinking of Sarah. No, either way,” you said sharply. You left out the part that you’d hooked up with Topper some years back. Though that was before he decided that Sarah was the love of his life. 

“If you say so, kid. Have fun.”

“I’ll try,” you muttered, darting away from him quickly. 

You decided to hide by the snack stand which, in hindsight, wasn’t a favorable hiding spot. Heaving a relieved breath, you reached for a fruit. Finally free.

Not. 

“Hey, princess,” came a familiar voice behind you. 

Ever so slowly, you turned around, forcing a smile when you locked eyes with Rafe. God fucking dammit. “Hi, Rafe,” you greeted. “Still on a mission to fuck all of your sister’s friends?”

“If you’ll let me,” Rafe said, more than a little flirty. 

Straight to the point. You almost respected it. This, unfortunately, was a recurring series of events that you had learned to deal with. Apparently Rafe, Kelce, and Topper were trying to pass you around, because though Topper was all eyes for Sarah, Kelce had directed more than a couple of flirty comments towards you.  

You, on the other hand, were highly disinterested. Rafe was the same dude who hated your friends and made your lives a living hell every spare chance he got. You just happened to be a pretty girl with kook money that Rafe made it a point to remind that she was too good for hanging out with pogues. 

“I’m kind of dating someone,” you lied through your teeth. Maybe it wasn’t a lie. You didn’t know what to make out of what happened with Ethan yesterday. 

Rafe obviously didn’t believe you, leaning onto the table. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“Me,” came another voice beside you. 

Your knight in shining armor was no other than JJ, the last person you wanted to see right now, but you decided that being with him was a whole lot better than having to tell Rafe to fuck off. 

Rafe shook his head, laughing. “You can do better than that.”

JJ was visibly upset, but rather than bite back, he grabbed your arm and said sternly, “Let’s go.”

There was no arguing with that tone. You let JJ drag you through Topper’s house as if he knew his way around and you ultimately found yourselves in a bathroom instead of a closet or something. Thank god. At least there was distance between your bodies and breathing room.

For a second, the two of you stood there in silence, sizing each other up for whatever reason. It was silent for at least thirty seconds before JJ had enough. 

JJ looked frantic, as if he had been searching his brain for what to say and had come short of adequate answers. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” you repeated, looking at him with folded arms and complete disinterest. It was only a facade, of course. 

JJ ran a hand through his hair. He had been beating himself over this for a whole day. When you two weren’t speaking, all his hours felt longer. “Look, I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to fix things. I just make shit worse.”

You held back a snort. To say the least. 

“You were right,” JJ confessed quietly. 

Playing clueless, you chirped, “About?”

JJ exhaled a breath before admitting, “I was jealous. I don’t wanna lose you to some guy.”

“I don’t wanna lose you to a killer,” you whispered, approaching him a little. “That’s what’s important to me right now. I want you to see that.”

JJ purchased his hands on your shoulders and replied, “I do see that. But I’m trying to tell you that I love you. That’s what’s important to me right now.”

“Oh.”

Your reaction made JJ recoil in regret. He backed away, getting cold feet, and said, “You know what, forget it.”

Before he could run like he always tried to, you rose on your toes and kissed him until you couldn’t think straight. JJ didn’t hesitate to pounce, smothering you with kisses as he returned your energy tenfold. 

His distracted hands were out of his hair and in your own for a second, just before slipping downwards. He couldn’t decide where to put them. Touching your bare skin, his fingertips found purchase at your very exposed waist, cursing at how beautiful you looked in this damn mini skirt.

You gasped into his mouth when he had the strange idea to hoist you into the air like you weighed sheets of paper and set you on the sink. Your fingers wildly got lost in his mane, legs locking around his hips, and the kiss deepened.  

Funnily enough, it wasn’t the first time that you’d kissed your best friend, much less in a bathroom. You had made out more than a few times growing up and hooked up once. Maybe twice.

None of it was supposed to mean anything. You were just trying to figure yourselves out while experimenting on each other. After a while, though, JJ told you it had to be the last time. You figured it was because he didn’t need you to experiment on anymore, because that was when he started to make his way around the island. 

That was the day you realized you had feelings for the one person you were forbidden from having feelings for. When it was too late. You tried undoing the damage, but you were past the point of no return. 

And you had been ever since. 

Warmth made itself known in your chest, your heart skipping a beat. She was singing a tune and calling out his name. You were so dizzy with love. 

“I love you, too,” you told him with a wild grin, breaking away. 

JJ playfully groaned, “What took you so long?”

In your head, you were wondering the same thing. “I’ve loved you for so many years,” you sighed. 

“Why didn’t you just say that?”

You retaliated sharply, “Why didn’t you?”

JJ threw up his hands. “Alright, alright. Good point. Great point, even.”

You giggled, pecking his lips.

JJ nipped behind your ear, grinning slyly when you sighed contentedly. If memory served, that was always the spot for you. He purred into your ear, “I want you more than anything right now.”

Your eyes flickered. “You want to hook up in Topper Thorton’s bathroom?”

JJ chuckled at the mere thought. “Sounds like perfect revenge, huh?”

You mulled it over. The asshole probably did deserve it, but that wasn’t what you were worried about right now. You were thinking about that day when JJ called it quits. 

Hands bracing the counter, you mentioned, “I thought you said we weren’t doing this anymore?”

“I say a lot of shit,” JJ responded, his body so close to yours that you could feel his heart racing. “And I only said that because I was scared. I felt myself getting attached to you in the wrong way and I just… fuck, I panicked.”

You appreciated the vulnerability that was being put into this conversation. Everything was on the table right now. His cards were flat. You were smiling like an idiot when you said, “You, JJ Maybank, are the biggest coward ever.”

JJ imitated your smile. “Only when it comes to you.”

For the longest time, you two just stared at each other’s lips. Then, JJ smashed his lips against yours again and you could feel the butterflies hyperactive in your gut. 

Well, you could always feel them when you were around him. But now they were being extra drama queens. 

The bathroom started to feel hotter, heat clouding the air. You were wholeheartedly expecting the mirror to get foggy and the windows too, had they (thankfully) not been covered by curtains. JJ’s hands were gripping your thighs and all you could think about was how you wanted to feel them everywhere. 

“Fuck me,” you whispered seductively. 

JJ had every intention of doing exactly that. “Whatever my girl wants, she’s gonna get.”

Your thighs tensed at those words. “You’re going to be the death of me,” you mumbled under your breath. 

Given the lack of space, it wasn’t much of a leap to make that he’d heard you. His breathy chuckle only confirmed your suspicions. 

Your heart was louder than ever when JJ peeled off your damp underwear and you didn’t even notice him adroitly stuffing them into his back pockets when they slipped by your ankles. If needed, he would follow you like a lost puppy the whole night just to make sure any creeps didn’t peek. 

Not to mention they were his favorite color. JJ almost growled. You were absolutely never getting those back. 

His hand slipped under your turtleneck, pinching your nipples none too roughly. You cried out in shock, finding his eyes, but all he did was chuckle. He always did do stupid shit like that. 

Then, JJ slipped two fingers into your pussy all while his other hand was still on your boob, and you moaned. You were internally thanking god that you’d decided to wear that turtleneck. JJ always had a thing for sucking marks onto your throat and you knew he would go ballistic if he saw those bruises. 

His fingers were so long and nimble, way too easy to fall apart on. The two times in a row that you’d had sex, he made you unravel either on his tongue or on his fingers. 

One day, you were hoping for both. 

You braced your hands on the counter, shifting left to right. Your whole body was unstill and it did things to JJ that had his cock twitching in his pants. His fingers attacked your sensitive bundle of nerves, knowing the perfect way to make you lose control. 

“Jay,” you said weakly, choking out your words. 

JJ audaciously invited a third finger to join the original pair and stroked them between your slick walls, simultaneously thumbing your clit. You tensed with sensitivity and braced your fingers on his shoulders, sighing while he taunted your sweet spot. JJ swore to himself, wishing he could mark up your throat, but seeing it was covered, settled for your thighs. 

Fire consumed your whole body. You couldn’t even think right now. His fingers were merciless, fucking you with a vengeance. Like they had something to prove. 

Much to your chagrin, your phone started to vibrate in your purse that you had hooked on the doorknob halfway through the first kiss.

Since he was the closest, JJ grabbed your phone from your purse and told you, “Answer it.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

“Hurry up before it ends,” he said, just before immediately returning to fingering you. 

You glanced at the caller ID then pressed the phone to your ear, chirping, “Hello?”

Sarah said your name and exhaled a sigh of relief before huffing, “I’ve texted you like twenty times! I’ve been looking for you everywhere and Kie said the last time she saw you was with Rafe. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

With JJ coaxing those dreadfully long fingers in and out of you over and over again, you were salivating, mouth too dry to speak. “Um, I’m okay. I went to, uh, clear my head,” you quickly lied through your teeth. 

“You don’t sound okay.”

“I promise everything is peachy. I was just running all over Topper’s house looking for the bathroom a minute ago,” you said shakily, narrowing your eyes at JJ from above.

Your best friend was sporting the most shit-eating grin you’d ever seen in your life. Fuck, you were tight and gushing around his fingers, and he couldn’t wait to get his cock in you. 

“Good one,” JJ said none too quietly. 

Sarah asked, “Is that JJ?”

Apparently the bathroom was quiet enough for JJ to overhear her, because instead of shutting up when you shot him a icy glare, he raised his voice a couple of pitches and said, “Um, no, it’s actually not JJ. I’m… Jayla.”

“Jayla,” Sarah repeated skeptically. 

You were burning in a lethal combination of arousal and embarrassment. “Okay, so I might’ve fibbed. JJ and I are reconciling.”

JJ scoffed. That was one way to put it. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Sarah said, evidently more than a little confused. “Have fun with that, I guess.”

Your toes were clenching in your knee-high boots and your features tensed with mind-numbing pleasure, your phone nearly slipping onto the floor tiles. You stifled your moan with the back of your palm and squeezed your fingers around your phone, losing your mind a little. You bit your bottom lip, somehow managing a, “Bye,” in the midst of your muffled cries. 

You were quick to hang up the phone, sliding it to the very back of the counter, and finally let out a noise.

Now you could focus on what was important. Your impending orgasm prepared to sweep you under its current. JJ was intent on getting you there like he knew he could, strumming you to climax. 

You took a deep breath, which did absolutely nothing to stabilize you, and whimpered, “JJ.”

“I know, baby. You’re close,” he said, thinking back on the memories of you falling apart at his mercy. He knew what you at your peak looked like and this sight was familiar. 

He remembered being dumb and young with you, doing things you shouldn’t’ve but nothing that he regretted. He remembered drawing your body to the edge of the bed by dragging your legs and hoisting them over his shoulders, fucking you for hours while your parents were away. 

Every day he wished he would’ve never given that up. But he was a self-sabotager and he ruined things before shit could go wrong on its own. 

Your heart was beating frantically and your legs were starting to go numb. Merely seconds later you were climaxing with a loud cry of his name, and you only hoped the music reverberating outside the door muffled your sounds. 

“Atta girl,” JJ growled, watching your entire body go slack as your orgasm ripped through you. “Keep cumming for me. Just like that.”

His words made the whole room spin. It was a minute before you finally stilled, panting and breathing heavy and hard. 

JJ withdrew his fingers, sucking them into his mouth. You were practically salivating. “You still cum hard?”

“When the person making me cum knows how to get me off,” you mumbled through ragged breath. 

“Now I can put my dick in you,” JJ said wryly, grinning at your words.

You barely got the chance to catch your breath before JJ yanked you off the countertop and forcefully bent you over the sink, making you cry out in surprise. He knew that you liked it a little rough. Adrenaline pumped brutally through your veins when you heard him shuffling from behind you in an endeavor to slide down his pants.

Your core tightened with impatience. Every fiber in your being wanted his dick in you like yesterday. “Hurry,” you whined desperately. 

“Patience is key, baby,” JJ teased, though you could tell he was in a hurry just from the sound of him rushing to sink his underwear around his ankles. 

At least you thought he was in a rush, though you were getting the vibe that he was attempting to draw things out when he started to rub his cock between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your throbbing didn’t stop there; it got worse. JJ let out a less than quiet curse-like grunt or two and felt the heat rush to his cock. 

It felt as if he was toying with you, tantalizing you with the thought of fucking your brains out. Which was all that you could think about. You had the memories of him stuffing you full of his dick on repeat in your head and they were like a nonstop spinning cycle. 

Those same memories were on his mind, too.  Muffling your moans with his palm when he heard your parents pulling into their driveway and escaping out your window after making sure you were alright. JJ threw his head back and cursed, “Fuck, you always get so wet.”

Thinking about what it felt like to be inside you shattered the last of his self-restraint and you cried out when he started to finally - fucking finally - push himself inside of your cunt. Your legs were spread apart, giving him all the room needed to fuck you like he meant it. 

JJ was slow and steady in his approach, never wanting to hurt you more than you asked for, crooning, “That’s right, baby. Take my cock.”

In that moment, you decided you would do anything for him. There was nothing you wouldn’t give for your best friend’s sake, though after this, you were hoping he’d be a little more than that. 

Not too long afterwards, every inch of him was buried deep inside of you. Though you knew you could take him, you were glad that he had stretched you out with your fingers. JJ was far from small and he was elated that you’d taken his size like a champ. “That’s my good girl,” he said proudly. “It don’t hurt, do it?”

“No, baby. Never,” you whispered distantly. Like you were already half gone. 

Only when JJ grabbed your hips like you were going to try to run away from him did he set a rhythm and that was the exact second you started to lose what was left of your mind a little. He just felt so criminally good. 

Sometimes after a couple of drinks when you were really horny (and buzzed) you would touch yourself in bed, imagining his perfect cock was stroking you to climax. Your pussy gripped him, remembering every vein. It killed you to wonder if he got off to the memories and the thought of what could have been. 

Little did you know, JJ could count on both hands how many times he’d been there on the other side of the island, fisting his cock in his hands while your cries played out in his brain. He missed the way you would choke out his name when his hand was wrapped around your throat too tight. 

Just the thought of it got you wet. Like you were back in that moment again. “Jay, fuck. Like that. Don’t stop,” you said with half of your voice.

“Shit,” JJ hissed, slapping his hips into you even harder. You gasped when he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at your own reflection none too gently. “Look at yourself. Wanna make you watch.”

You did as told without a second thought. Sure, it was a little awkward to watch yourself getting fucked, but you immediately simpered when you saw how JJ’s face tensed with ecstasy and caught a glimpse of the hazy look in his stare. 

Your knees were knocking into the cabinet under the sink while you anchored your fingers at the edges of the counter, desperately attempting to seek purchase. The air was stuffy and the bathroom was too hot to breathe inside of. Your lips were parted, inhaling in between soft moans. 

JJ wasn’t exactly sparing in the way that he was fucking you and you loved every second of it. His pace was hard but it wasn’t too much, just at your limits. He kept watching you, almost like he was trying to breathe you in. Something about the sight of you making a mess on his cock tickled his brain the right way. 

As if you weren’t already struggling to breathe, JJ had the bright idea to grip your throat and cut off your exhale. The way you instantly tightened around his dick was very telling and he could no longer think. “Look at you, baby. My girl,” he whispered darkly. “Mine.”

Every time he called you his girl, you wanted to melt onto the floor or possibly down the sink drain. You loved being full of him and nothing but him. You loved feeling like you belonged to him. For a moment, it was that simple. Your whole body was owned by him and submitted to his touch. 

“Yours,” you choked out, not like you would have been able to say much even if his fingers weren’t around your neck. 

That riled JJ up a little too much. You shuddered when he landed a loud, resounding smack to your ass. The noise you made never left your throat. 

To say that JJ was a little obsessed would be an understatement. The wet squelch that filled the room with every thrust drove him mad with lust and there was no coming back down from that. You were squirming in his hold and the sight was to die for. 

The pleasure was killing you softly. For lack of a better word, everything just felt so right. He fitted inside of you perfectly, almost as if he was meant to fuck you. To say nothing of how he felt pressed against you. 

Sweat layered at your skin and you didn’t even notice, courtesy of the thick turtleneck keeping your upper half concealed, though you could definitely feel the moisture gathering at your back and between your boobs. He relaxed his grip and your neck and you promptly sucked in a breath, the feeling of his hand lingering at the base of your throat. 

The heat took you in and when your body could take no more you orgasmed again, weakly hissing out your best friend’s name as all of your strength died. You shuddered and shook, trying to get away from the stimulation, but JJ was having none of it and tightened his hold on you. 

For the longest time, you couldn’t even say a word. Tears fogged your eyes and blurred your vision, making everything around you a haze. You heard JJ’s euphoric sounds from behind, still wallowing in your heat. 

You were more than willing to let him use you to get off but you could tell just from the pitch of his voice that he was nearing finish and you were craving it with an overwhelming sense of need. “Jay, cum inside of me.”

JJ’s hooded eyes snapped open, as if he had been dreaming. “Don’t play with me like that.”

“I’m serious,” you said to him, smiling at his disbelief. “I want you to fuck me full.”

Now that you had said that, he was even closer than before, dangling over the edge and falling into you. JJ groaned. You knew exactly how to make him weak. 

His pace quickened, the urge to fuck you full of cum like you wanted turning him into something that resembled a beast rather than a mere man. You whimpered, sensitive, fiending for the afterhighs of sex. 

He was more than happy to give them to you, filling you with his load with a couple more quick thrusts and a guttural sound that shook you to your core. You moaned at the feeling of him stuffing you. 

For a minute or two, neither of you moved. You just wanted to stay like that forever. Then, JJ started to smother you with kisses and said, “You’re fucking perfect.”

You grinned, kissing him back. You felt so alive. 

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up,” JJ said with a shocking amount of enthusiasm. 

Approximately fifteen minutes later you were stammering out of the bathroom with JJ in tow, his arm wrapped possessively around your waist as he led you back outside.

The sky was a lot darker when you stepped onto Topper’s front porch, the sun being closer to setting. Thankfully, given that it was summer, you had longer nights and every intention to milk the daylight for all that it was worth. 

That was until you heard a scream. 

Naturally JJ’s first instinct was to cage you into his arms until he knew if there was a threat. Your heart fluttered at the gesture, but the very next second, you laid eyes on that familiar cloaked figure that had first taken out the flock of cops gathered outfront.  

“Not good,” JJ said, running a hand through his hair. “This is, like, really bad.”

Flinching in horror, you snapped, “No shit.”

Blood pooled around the array of police cars and you caught a glimpse of Shoupe’s brutally slaughtered body, left there for dead like an animal. The bodies of his co-workers were posed similarly and also very dead, sprawled across the asphalt. 

Rather than get his hands dirty, JJ decided to reopen Topper’s doors and grab your wrist, shuffling inside with you behind. Feet slapping against shimmering floor tiles, you tried to match his hurried steps. 

When you neared the steps, you cried out, “Jay, what about everyone else?”

“They’ll figure it out,” he shouted, almost as if he didn’t care. 

That was jarring to you. You stopped halfway up the stairway, unimpressed. “This is very unlike you!”

JJ whipped around, braced his hands on your shoulders, and said darkly, “Look, we get stabbed, we can’t do nothing for them. So come on.”

You guessed he was at least sort of right and let him lead you upstairs, checking out no less than three rooms before you finally found a bedroom and locked the door behind yourselves. Both of you scurried to the windows, watching the disaster unfold from afar. 

Fight or flight got the better of most people. Topper was playing hero and walked up to the masked maniac without a care in the world, and whether it was a brave or foolish decision was debatable. You dumbass, you chided in your brain, already seeing how this was about to play out. 

He was daring, you would give him that much. You saw him say something that you couldn’t exactly hear, but from his lips it looked like, “Hit me with your best shot, motherfucker.” 

It all happened in a blink. You winced your eyes shut when you saw the masked figure cold-heartedly stab Topper in the gut, only to withdraw the knife and stab back a number of times you weren’t willing to count. You glanced away for a second, the last thing you saw being Sarah panickedly rushing over to Topper’s body. 

Then, a second one emerged, and it was like nothing you had ever seen before. Not even in the movies. They both cornered Rafe, whose aggression quickly earned him a sawing through the arteries. 

You gasped in terror, hiding yourself in your best friend’s chest. Though you weren’t their biggest fans, that made it no less difficult to watch. There was blood spilled everywhere almost as if it was pouring down from the sky. 

“Shh, it’s gonna be fine. Don’t look,” JJ consoled, rubbing your back. “Don’t look.”

You didn’t look. Matter of fact, you kept your eyes anywhere but near that window, choosing to stare at JJ’s face instead. His features were grim, and you could tell just from looking at him that everything wasn’t going to be fine. 

But for your own sake, you filtered those dark thoughts out. It’s gonna be fine, you repeated to yourself. Whatever JJ told you, you were inclined to believe. It’s gonna be fine. 

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[bigification]

Coach's New Uniforms

"What's Tubbo doing in the dugout?" Adam mumbled to his teammate as he arrived to his baseball match. "Hey buddy, I think you got a bit lost. You wandered into our dugout." Adam said in a degrading voice. The man turned around to face him, heaving his massive gut as he turned. "Oh, you must be the captain, Adam. The names Weller, Coach Weller." He reached out for a hand shake with a wide smile. Stunned, Adam eyed Weller up and down while reciprocating the shake, taking note of how plump the man's fingers felt. "Ughh, what happened to Coach Stinger. And... Are you sure your his replacement." Adam said while staring blankly into Wellers stomach. "No idea, they just asked me to show up." Weller responded, feigning ignorance to the not so subtle jab at his appearance. "Regardless, the game starts soon, we should get ready. It looks like most of the team has arrived."

The team began their typical stretching routine, most of the team unbothered by the coach change as they changed coach's a lot. Although Adam felt something off about their new coach, besides his reservations about his weight. He kept an eye on Weller throughout the stretching routine, catching him staring intently at the team as they stretched before looking away when Adam noticed.

The rest of the match went by smoothly. Coach Weller actually had good advice and much to Adams dismay, Weller made for a pretty good coach. The team they were facing was significantly worse than them, so the game wasn't too stressful, just one to boost their stats.

The team huddled around Coach Weller after the match. Hoping to get a bit more information on their new coach. "Good game boys! It was an easy win, but you guys still played great. By the way, I ordered new uniforms for you guys, they should be delivered soon. I expect you to wear them to the next practice." Coach Weller said before promptly leaving. The rest of the team made their way home, slightly confused by Weller acting strange.

Later that night, Adam took to his computer to look into Weller. Searching 'coach weller' into Google popped up a ton of news articles about him. 'Baseball prospect snuffed last minute' 'Baseball pro let's himself go after thought rejection' 'From fit to fat, former baseball pro hospitalized for conditions related to obesity'. Article after article telling a tragic story, almost making him feel bad. "I was wondering how anyone could even get that fat, but I guess that explains it." It also explained why he actually knew his shit, and why he kept staring at his teammates. "He's just jealous of what could have been his life, that explains the staring." Adam thought to himself.

The next morning rolled around, Adam jumped out of bed, late for practice. He ran to his closet and grabbed the new uniform he got in the mail the night before. He ran out of his room, only in his black boxers. He threw on the baseball shirt, noting that it did not fit him at all. Probably some one size fits all kinda thing, but he didn't have time to worry about it. He grabbed his pants and tried to pull them up his legs, but they got snagged on something. He pulled them up again, but they just wouldn't go past his ass. "What the hell! Did they shrink in the wash?" He said, annoyed. He looked down to see what was wrong. "What the fuck!" He yelled out. He couldn't even see his pants because his gut blocked his view of them. He grabbed at the fat that was piling onto his stomach, it was real. Adam freaked out as his belly grew and grew. He started to look pregnant, then it started to look like a beach ball was stuck in his stomach. It all happened so fast. He stumbled back, knocking into the gym equipment he had in his living room. The new weight distribution of his massive gut almost made him fall over, but he managed to stay in his feet. He grabbed onto his bench press, hoping to regain some balance. "My hands, they're massive!?" He yelled as he saw his giant fat filled hands. His eyes drifted up to his biceps. He was visibly shocked as he looked at his hulking biceps. Even the fat in his arms just made them look stronger. It made him feel like maybe this wasn't the end of the world.

Once Adam had gotten over the shock of the situation, he got up and turned towards his mirror. At first it shocked him, his gut was so imposing. It was probably the first thing you would notice about him, and it made him feel so strong. He didn't care for the man boobs he now had, but it was a good trade off for his massive arms. He analysed his round face and his scruffy beard, he felt so intimidating. He lifted up his gut and looked at his thick thighs and plump ass. He was surprised by how little his body sagged under its own weight all things considered, but he sure as hell did not mind. He could even see the large outline of his dick under his boxers. "Heh, nice!" He chuckled

"Right, practice." He remembered that he was almost late for practice. He tried putting on his pants which... Suddenly fit. At first he was confused as they didn't fit just a moment earlier, but then he remembered that he had always been a size 40 waist and his baseball pants had always fit him. He buttoned up his shirt as it now perfectly wrapped around his gut. He looked at himself in the mirror one last time and smiled.

Adam hopped in his tiny car and rolled his seat back before rushing to practice. "What's a good captain if he can't even show up on time." He scolds himself.

He serves into the parking lot and runs out to the dugout, shocked by how out of breath he is from the short jog. "Lookin good captain!" His boys yelled out to him. He passed his coach, just as big as ever, and then met up with his team. For a moment he was shocked. They all must have been at least 300 pounds. Each of them with guts spilling out of their uniforms and sporting big bushy beards. But then the memories of playing with them for the season flooded into his mind. They had always been the fattest in the league. They huddled up, all with their guts squished between them. "Let's show coach Weller that a big team like us can play with the skinny guys." Adam patted his teammates on the back.

Coach Weller crossed his arms and smiled while he watched the team of obese men struggle to make it to first base without needing to take a rest.

[silverynight]

When the moon rises

<---Previous

Part II

It's been a couple of weeks since Tanjirou has made friends with a pack of werewolves; they're absolutely great, if he's being honest, they make sure he's safe every time he goes into the forest to chop a couple of trees and turn them into logs.

Before he knew about their secret, they just watched him from afar and followed him from the shadows, now they follow him like happy puppies and turn into their human forms to help him carry the logs back to his house.

Nezuko likes them all and sometimes she invites them inside so they can have something warm to drink.

Other days they all stay for a while in their house and bring Tanjirou a lot of gifts that he takes with a flustered expression and feeling as his face is on fire the whole time.

Because they're not only his friends, those nine werewolves have been courting him for a while now and Tanjirou must admit that he really likes them all back.

"Let me scent you," Kyojuro mumbles one day as they get inside Tanjirou's home. Some of the others are already in his house by the time he and Kyojuro come back from the village.

"Okay," Tanjirou whispers shyly; Shinobu has explained to him a thing or two about werewolf traditions and it seems like they are usually very possessive. Which is why they want Tanjirou to smell like them.

He doesn't mind that at all, in fact, he finds it charming.

Not only Kyojuro, but Tengen and Giyuu end up scenting him too, at least in that moment, but when the others get home and realize what happened, they ask the redhead to let them scent him too.

He has met Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru already and it surprised Tanjirou how much they also want their husband to mate him. They have told him that they love him too, which Tanjirou has had a hard time to believe because he's such a simple uninteresting person to have a whole pack of werewolves loving him the way they do.

But they do love him and Tanjirou is getting used to the idea.

When winter gets significantly worse, they invite him and Nezuko to their home in the woods again.

They give Nezuko a room for herself where she can stay warm, but they ask, almost plead Tanjirou to sleep next to them in the living room.

"It's a tradition; something intended mates do," Gyomei explains, making Tanjirou flustered again. "We'll have to be in our wolf form so we can keep you warm."

"To show that we can protect and take care of you during winter," Muichiro adds, nuzzling against Tanjirou's cheek. "Please, it'd mean a lot to us."

Tanjirou agrees because he has decided a while ago that he's going to follow their tradition to the end and they'll be his partners or... mates, as they like to call it.

They make the living room comfortable and shift into their wolf form; Tanjirou can't stop himself from petting them all and even chuckles when he notices the way they start to wag their tails.

They all nuzzle Tanjirou before forming a circle on the floor; Obanai explained to him earlier that were going to sleep like they would when they have to stay in the forest.

Tanjirou sleeps in the middle, surrounded by the smallest members of the pack; they're so soft and warm, it doesn't take the human to long before he falls completely asleep.

It's really comfortable.

In the morning he wakes up early to make them all breakfast; even though it's not his house, it doesn't take too long for him to make something for them.

Of course, when they turn back into their human forms, they're completely naked and it gets him all flustered immediately.

They go back to their respective rooms to change, but Sanemi bites Tanjirou's cheek first and smirks at him when the human's face turns slightly pink.

Fortunately, Nezuko doesn't get out of her room until a couple of hours later so she doesn't get to see that.

***

After that night, they get really happy and become a little bit more attached to Tanjirou, he thinks that's more than okay since he's going to spend the rest of his life with them.

Although it makes him nervous sometimes, what if they regret it? Is there something like divorce in their traditions? How do you undo a making bite? What about nine of them?

He thinks about asking them directly, because he doesn't have anyone else to ask, but he doesn't seem to find the right time for it.

They have dinner in their house; the werewolves who can actually cook help making it and Tanjirou would have give them a hand too, but they refuse to let him.

"This is for you," Muichiro tells him. "Let us do this. Werewolves usually hunt for their future mates, but we know you wouldn't like us bringing you a dead animal to your doorstep so this is the only way for us to show you we can feed you."

Tanjirou is about to tell him they don't need to do that for him, but by the way Mitsuri is enthusiastically making rice balls and how happy the others look too, it seems this is another important tradition for them.

So he lets them.

However, Tanjirou decides that he also needs to talk to them; he brings out the topic of divorce, which he has to explain too and they all look so horrified by it (but confused at the same time) that Tanjirou is sure he screwed up.

"We won't change our minds, if that's what you're afraid of," Kyojuro assures him. "You are the love of our lives."

Tanjirou tries to hold back a couple of tears, but it seems to be a very difficult task; the feeling of Giyuu's hand on his helps him a lot though.

"Do you think you'll regret it?" It's the most vulnerable Tanjirou has seen Sanemi; he also looks sad, which is something he doesn't like at all.

He wants to see them happy, he wants to make them happy.

"No, I won't. I'm not like that," Tanjirou surprises himself by how determined his voice sounds. There's no hesitation in it. "I love you all too."

"See? There's nothing to worry about," Mitsuri assures him.

"Besides, we'll work on our relationship every single day, to make sure we are taking care of you properly," Gyomei cuts in and Tanjirou nods immediately.

"I'll do the same," he promises.

***

In spring they give him nine mating bites and Tanjirou has to walk around their house with clothes that leave his neck exposed because they all love to see the marks on his skin.

Tanjirou is shy at first but he gets used to it; he also finds out they all are very enthusiastic lovers and the first week with them is absolutely exhausting, but in a good way, although he's getting used to that too.

They're very possessive too; at least two of them go to the village with him and sometimes they hiss, growl or just glare at anyone whom they think is trying to make a move on Tanjirou.

Tanjirou is almost sure is everything in their minds, but he stops arguing when Nezuko lets him know they're probably right and he's just being oblivious.

It's alright actually, because he doesn't mind the possessiveness; they always try to control themselves whenever Tanjirou asks them to.

He enjoys his life with them, but what he likes the most about it is that they all act like a big family.

Well, they are a family and Tanjirou and Nezuko are part of it now.

***

Patreon

#werewolf au #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tanjiro kamado #kyojuro rengoku #shinobu kocho #muichiro tokito #obanai iguro #mitsuri kanroji #giyuu tomioka #sanemi shinazugawa #gyomei himejima #tengen uzui #kyotan #giyutan

[captainofthetidesbreath]

There's something incredible and skillful on Travis' part about how little Nathaniel actually directly says about suspicions of institutional weaknesses in Candela and how in the conversation in the carriage, he doesn't really directly lodge any serious accusations against Candela—the others all do, and Marion even encourages Nathaniel to be less hesitant and hedging in his verbiage. Travis as Nathaniel bolded and italicized, just for highlighting:

BRENNAN: They told the kid she was dead? TRAVIS: Yes. BRENNAN: How sick do you got to be where you go, "Hey, we got to break it to the kid soft. Just tell them she's dead." LUIS: Right? I guess there's things worse than dead. I guess. Well, clearly we know there's things that are worse than dying, but. TRAVIS: I know there's an amount of trust we all have with this organization. We see what we're fighting against. We know what sort of evil there is in the world, not just the kind that we make. But-- LUIS: But they withhold a lot. TRAVIS: It feels that way. LUIS: It is that way. Would you have risked everything we did for what they explained was in that container? A creature that's used to get people high? That's all there is to that. ZEHRA: There-- Marion, if I may, there may be-- It's deeply disappointing to understand that money seems to move a lot of these organizations through the world. There may have been monetary gain that Candela was trying to prevent by stopping the androphage transfer. There are certain groups that would pay a great sum for it. All I'm saying is maybe Candela isn't immune to some of these capital gains. MARISHA: Well, look. Any institution, even an institution that stands up against institutions, well, I mean they're not immune from their own organizational flaws. However, I would still like to believe that out of all of the other capitalistic and governmental factions that rule our day-to-day lives that hopefully we're choosing the one lesser evil. TRAVIS: Ms. Monroe. Beatrix. You've been with the organization longer than any, and I've looped my men into this with a certain amount of trust. Have you ever seen anyone marked by bleed changed? Have you ever seen them made whole, amended? MARISHA: I tend to find sometimes the best route is to just keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. Oftentimes you'll learn far more than what people can tell you. We've all been touched by bleed, whether we want to accept that or not. No, I guess, to answer your question, not to, what it sounds, the severity of Allison's level was. But I would still like to believe that that's why we're fighting. You certainly had no problems standing up and calling out the organization to Mr. Kingsley. Which is a little bit surprising, I got to say, Nathaniel, for someone who's quite the institutional man himself. TRAVIS: Force of habit, I'm afraid. ZEHRA: Well, speaking of Mr. Kingsley, what did he mean when he said it was someone above his head who made the decision to tell Lucas, was it, the boy? TRAVIS: Lucas. ZEHRA: That his mother was dead? Someone above a Lightkeeper's head. LUIS: Everybody answers to somebody else. BRENNAN: I don't know if that's true. I guess there's got to be a few people don't answer to anybody.

Generally, the way Travis handles Nathaniel's exposition in the carriage is blisteringly efficient on an informational and emotional level without ever feeling heavy-handed, but I think this sowing seeds of doubt in an institution (which seems to be a major theme in this chapter) is very skillful in its subtlety. Given that he's emotionally close to this incident and is a character conceptualized around corruptions and abuses of power, Nathaniel is unexpectedly spare in this sequence of exchanges, most significantly only delivering a set-up and pulling Beatrix in. He interestingly takes more of a listening role in this sequence, despite the fact that he is delivering almost all information and doing most of the thematic set-up.

His accusations are few and the ones he makes are mild and hesitant. The most he directly says is an interrupted "but" that leaves a hanging implication. But that tiny crack drives everyone else to start speculating about the whys and hows and whats of what is going on, and it feels very natural and is very skillful. Nathaniel clearly has his doubts and his experiences and doubts are the center of this conversation, but by holding off on actually voicing them directly, it gives everyone else space to guess at where he's going and leaves it open for others to contribute.

It's really skillful work as a player and a scene partner, especially as someone who is setting up the episode's plot and seeding what feels like may be one of the major themes of this chapter about institutional distrust and power and capital.

#Candela Obscura #Candela things #Candela spoilers #long post for ts #Circle of Needle and Thread

[moonlightspencie]

do you still hope?

Part 3 of ‘a life where we work out’

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: hm. this is an ending for sure

————————— -> READER’s POV <- —————————

I looked over my shoulder, staring in the direction of the bathroom. It had been an unusually long time since Dean had gone in. Even for him.

I checked my watch again. 17 minutes had passed so far.

I turned back to the table, sipping on my water now that all of the other dishes had been cleared away. I let out a harsh sigh, drawing Sam’s attention away from his laptop. He glanced over at me in question.

“It’s been nearly twenty minutes,” I said, trying to sound more annoyed that concerned. “We’re trying to save lives, and he’s locked in the bathroom.”

“Do you want me to go check on him?”

I looked at Sam who stared back with an almost amused look on his face. I shrugged at first, ignoring the nagging feeling in my body that wanted to be sure he was okay. Finally, I nodded.

“You probably should. I don’t want to be stuck in this town any longer than I need to be.”

He agreed, and both of us slid out of the booth. I sat back down as he started towards the bathrooms.

What if he couldn’t bring himself to be around me? Worse, what if he left?

No, he wouldn’t leave Sam.

Unless he did.

I fiddled with my hands on the tabletop, trying not to think about it. Until, Sam came back with a worried look on his face.

“What is it?”

He threw some bills down on the table.

“We’ve got to go. Dean’s gone.”

We jumped into my vehicle after a minute of deliberation. I tried justifying that he probably just needed to blow off some steam, but Sam made a great point that he’d likely at least take Baby. It was muggy out, and he wouldn’t be caught dead walking around in this for fun.

“Where do we go?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think it was the djinn?”

“Could be,” Sam nodded, pulling up the GPS.

It directed us towards where we’d all suspected it to be. I just hoped that this was the right place. Even more, I hoped that Dean had left of his own accord and we wouldn’t find him there at all. It was a significantly less likely outcome, though.

Everything was a blur as we let routine carry our actions.

We parked. Grabbed the knife dipped in blood. Double checked that our guns were loaded. Walked towards the building.

I didn’t allow myself to think past the present moment. One foot in front of the other.

We burst through the door, searching for any signs of life in the dingy old building. We had split up to cover more ground, though it was hardly necessary when I let out a loud gasp.

“Dean,” I mumbled, mostly to myself as I approached.

He was a little worse for wear, but in much better condition than I’d expected.

Sam came rushing over, though everything was still a blur to me except for the man in front of me. I knew he’d helped someone else down from the restraints they were kept in. I registered when he’d fairly easily stabbed the djinn with the knife we’d brought in. I saw as Dean came to quickly, his eyes widening as I released him from the way he was tied up. I heard Sam talking to me, though his words practically floated in one ear and out the other until I had Dean propped up against the trunk of my car.

“What the hell happened?” I said at last, my surroundings coming into view once again.

He looked shocked, staring anywhere at me but in my eyes.

“He knocked me out in the bathroom,” he said, swallowing. “You know how the rest goes.”

I scoffed, opening my mouth to say something else when Sam came along. The woman he was helping was definitely worse off than Dean had been.

We all piled into the car, dropping her off at the hospital. It left me plenty of time to come to terms with how my psyche had been handling this situation. I finally felt calm by the time we reached the restaurant, watching as Dean got into the impala. However, Sam stayed with me. Probably just so I’d have to go back to the motel with them in order to drop him off. Bastard.

We arrived, and now, of course, he decided to book it into the hotel room. I followed after, just to say goodbye. Though, I was quickly intercepted by Dean as he walked up towards the door of the motel.

He just stood there, staring at me once again. Still not looking me in the eye. But, to be fair, I was staring too.

I hadn’t expected him to be here. I certainly didn’t think I’d have to save his life once again. After a moment, I cleared my throat to break whatever tension laid between us.

“I should,” I trailed off, looking towards my vehicle. “After I say bye to Sammy.”

His eyes followed to where my gaze set, and I could see him physically fold in on himself a little. He let out a slow sigh, then set his eyes back on the ground between us.

“Just,” he stopped, interrupted by his own heavy breath. “Please. Come in and stay. Just for a little while. A few hours.”

I nodded slowly, something in his face telling me that he needed this. Whatever this was. I trailed after him, walking ahead when he opened the door for me. Sam gave me a soft smile when he met my eyes from where he sat on one of the beds, clearly trying not to scare me off. As if I was some wild animal they were herding into their room.

“I’m not going to make a break for it, you know,” I stated, looking between the two of them as Dean shut the door behind himself.

They fell silent for a moment.

I decided to take a seat in the meantime, settling at the table by the window. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at me. Still. Sam sighed softly, sitting up straight on his mattress.

“We haven’t seen you in forever,” Sam said, shrugging slightly. “Can’t blame us for wanting to hold onto you a little longer.”

—————————— -> DEAN’s POV <- ——————————

I straightened at Sam’s words, suddenly finding the carpet really interesting. I heard her sigh heavily, though I still couldn’t find it in myself to look at her.

I hadn’t really gotten a good look at her since the warehouse. At least, I hadn’t made eye contact.

The last her I had taken the time to really keep my eye on wasn’t even real. But she still loved me. I wanted my memory of her to be just that: loving. I knew I wouldn’t find that now.

“I know,” she said at last. “I’m sorry.”

I took a chance to look at her, now. Her words were so soft and quiet, I was sure I’d misheard her at first. Looking at her, slumped in her seat, I was sure I hadn’t. I let out a breath, not able to take my eyes off of her.

My plan not to look her in the eyes suddenly experienced a miserable failure.

She locked eyes with me, giving almost an apologetic stare. One I wasn’t expecting.

But, there was something else I saw in her stare that I expected even less. I felt my breath catch, her brow furrowing at how I’d obviously stiffened. She opened her mouth to say something, but clearly thought better of it.

She turned in her seat. “Sam?”

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“I’m kind of hungry. Would you totally hate me—”

“Your usual?” he asked with a smile.

“Please.”

His smile only grew, taking this as a sign that she’d stick around a little longer. I handed off my keys immediately, still staring at her in disbelief. Whether or not Sammy had realized that she was distracting him didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered once he was out the door was how she abruptly stood and walked towards me, stopping suddenly a few feet in front of me.

I swallowed. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she breathed out. “What aren’t you telling me?”

I let out a slight laugh. Of course. When couldn’t she read me like a book?

She stared at me expectantly, but something told me she knew what she was walking into by asking that question. I softened under her watchful eye, my shoulders releasing the built-up tension I’d been carrying.

“Is it about wherever the djinn sent you?” she prodded.

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

I scoffed out a laugh. “Good to know you haven’t changed.”

She glared at me, though the sparkle in her eye told me she wasn’t as annoyed as she was trying to be.

“It was you,” I said simply, knowing there was no dancing around it.

“I figured as much by the way you haven’t stopped staring at me. What happened?”

I swallowed. “I didn’t want to leave, you know? At all. I could’ve stayed there forever and I’d have been fine. Real or not.”

I walked around her at last, sitting on my bed. She followed after, taking a seat next to me.

“It wasn’t just you. We had… We had kids. Another baby on the way. Mom and dad were alive, Sam was doing great,” I paused, laughing once. “Leaving was the hardest decision. I knew I had to get out of it. I had to snap out of it, but man, if I could’ve stayed I would have.”

I took a chance to look at her again. Her face hardly betrayed any emotions. She just sat there, watching me remember it messily.

Something came over me, though. Call it stupidity or bravery. There was a thin line between the two, anyway.

“Do you ever think…” I laughed again. Barely. “Do you still hope?”

The barely-formed question sat in the air between us like a wall. One I hoped like hell she’d take down.

“How couldn’t I?”

There it was. Crumbling down with three words out of her pretty mouth. Her hand reached for mine, taking it softly.

“That’s really where you went?”

“What would I have to gain by lying about it?”

She smiled softly. “Consider me flattered, then. That’s supposed to be your dream life, you know?”

“I know,” I nodded.

She looked at me again, and this time I was sure what I saw in her eyes. I saw it in that djinn-induced dream, too.

“I never stopped loving you,” she said, just above a whisper.

I let out a shaky breath, telling myself that now was not the time to cry. She gave me the softest smile, not a hint of anything but truth in her face.

I don’t know who leaned in first. All I know is that our lips met in the middle for the first time in what felt like an eternity. That life that I so desperately wanted with her might have been a little unrealistic. Maybe we’d never get out of this life. But she gave me hope.

#a life where we work out #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural

[ukrainianfellow]

The story of a Ukrainian gay sniper couple

When Russian aggression began, almost all Ukrainian citizens stood up for their country regardless of age, gender, political beliefs or sexual orientation. There are a lot of LGBT representatives in the AFU. The rainbow flag has spread much wider across Ukraine.

Homophobia was a traditional value among Ukrainians before Russian aggression. However, it is widespread among only a part of the population now. Moreover, it is associated with soviet totalitarianism, and the homophobia-tolerant stratum of the population is actively expanding.

It is noted that the number of LGBT servicemen and homosexual couples in the ranks of the AFU has increased significantly.

Pavel Legoyda, an anti-aircraft gunner in the 112th separate brigade of the AFU, is an open representative of the LGBT community. He does not hide his orientation and has a love partner. Unfortunately, he has not escaped abuse from his comrades. Not everyone in the Ukrainian army shows tolerance to people of non-traditional orientation. Pavel felt it by himself when he was almost stabbed to death by a soldier returning from the front line.

Nevertheless, it is worth noting that in 2023 the LGBT Military group claimed that around 50,000 LGBT people were fighting Russian occupants.

We've checked some journalists, that are in Ukraine, and had a talk with a gay couple and find out what is it like to defend the Motherland and fight together with a loved one.

Interviewer: “Could you tell a little bit about yourself and how did you realize your orientation? “.

“Anderson“: "My call sign is “Anderson”, I am a former sniper of the 81st Separate Airmobile Brigade. Since the beginning of the Russian aggression, I decided to join the ranks of recruits to defend my homeland. At first, I served as a gunner in a motorized infantry platoon. I confess, that even before the service, I had a slight interest in guys. In the army, I made a final decision about my orientation, but I had to hide it from my comrades."

“Heretic”: “Yes, actually he hid it for about six months, maybe a little more. My call sign is "Heretic." I served as a sniper for more than four years. in AFU”

“Anderson”: “Well, I don't deny it – it was hard to hide my identity. It's a very sensitive issue because you have to worry about how your comrades will react on this."

Interviewer: “Yes, indeed, it's a very brave step. Many people still struggles about it. How did you meet each other?”

“Anderson”: “Well, I was quite good at marksmanship and combat actions. Even before the service, I attended individual courses of shooting, and when I had to use my gun in real battle, I immediately realized that not only could I shoot, but kill occupants. The commander noticed my talent and recommended me to snipers. From that on, I became Heretic’s sniper pair.”

“Heretic”: “At first, I thought he was a newbie who had recklessly joined the snipers. That’s why the relationship between us was quite dry and even cold. Of course, over time, the ice began to melt between us. The daily routine and the constant threat to our lives made me realize that I had misjudged him. I thought: “Damn, he's a good guy!.” Training together, escaping artillery fire, resting and living together in the trenches strengthened our bond. One day, I admitted that I was ready to trust my back to my comrade.”

Interviewer: “And how did you realize there something more than simple sympathy or trust?”

“Anderson”: “Well, I don't know exactly when, where or by what circumstances, but one day I suddenly realized that I felt something more than simple sympathy towards “Heretic”. Maybe it was when we wiped out another Russian orcs, maybe it was when we ate in the trenches. I worried that my feelings would be rejected by my comrade, so I didn’t tell him what I felt.”

“Heretic”: "Well, I was in a similar situation. I just realized that was terrified of losing him. And the constant threat to one of us just made feeling worse."

Interviewer: “And how did you decide to confess?”

“Anderson”: “While we were on another combat mission, and stuck under heavy artillery fire. It was so close that there was no chance of survival. Then we revealed our feelings towards each other.”

“Heretic”: “God bless that we had similar feelings!”

“Anderson”: “Unfortunately, we lost our legs and the ability to fight.”

“Heretic”: “At least we survived. We were found by comrades after the bombing was over.”

Interviewer: “Do your comrades know about your relations? What can you say about their reaction?”

“Anderson”: “Yes, they already know about it. After all we’ve been through we decided to reveal our relations to comrades. We talked with brothers after out hospitalization. We didn't care about anyone’s thoughts.”

“Heretic”: “We didn’t even think that our comrades will support our sights. It turned out that we are not the only ones who have such a relationship.”

#lgbtq community #lgbtqiia+ #lgbtq rights #lgbtqplus #war in ukraine #ukraine #russian invasion #queer community #lgbt pride #pride

[1d1195]

Therapy IV

I didn't think I'd be writing a part four for this Therapy series if it wasn't for this message, thank you so much to this lovely anon.

Warnings: 18+ topics mentioned, jealous Harry

“My God, you’re beautiful,” she spun around and smiled at Harry approaching her much like the last time. “Y’really gonna be the death of me in this dress, kitten."

Hey, kitten, how’s your day? xx

The smile that popped onto her face made her stomach flutter at the same time as she opened her message from Harry. All she could think about was his sweet-dimpled face and his pretty eyes. Texting him at lunch time had become a routine for them. A quick check-in to get each other through the rest of the day.

It’s good, how’s yours?

It feels long. I want to go home and watch a movie with you.

She shamelessly giggled at her phone while she responded. Same here. I think it’s your turn to pick.

Well, I don’t actually plan on watching it, so I’ll let you pick. I just want to look at you and kiss you and stuff.

And stuff?

Good stuff, I promise. xx

She felt her cheeks warm even though no one was around her. I like the way you think, Harry.

Her phone rang instead of his response to her. “Hi,” Harry said cutely.

She giggled. “Hi.”

“I jus’ wanted t’say that no one in my past relationships ever really called me Harry,” he said. “So I like when you use it.”

“Hmm,” she hummed with a grin. “That’s cute,” she giggled.

“Don’t make me blush.”

“Hey love,” It was so shocking that Harry felt like his whole body stopped it’s auto-functioning. He was certain he stopped breathing. It felt like his heart nearly exploded out of his chest at the sound of someone else calling her “love.”

“Hold on one second,” she said to the phone. Harry wanted to die that she was going to respond.

“Oh sorry,” the voice said. Harry was bristling with anger at the interruption.

“It’s okay, what’s up?” Harry didn’t like that she thought it was okay that he was interrupting their phone call.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I know you’re on your lunch,” Harry wished he could see him. He also wished to strangle him, but through the phone he knew it wouldn’t be possible. “But it’s an absolute shitshow in this meeting right now. We can’t add two numbers together to save our lives and we’re about to make your job a whole lot harder if you don’t help us soon.”

“Leave it to you to call on the accountant for math help—I appreciate you trying to make my job easier.”

“Who else would I ask, love?” He chuckled. Again, Harry was nearly sweating with how angry he was.

“I’ll be one minute,” she said and then to Harry she sighed. “M’sorry, Harry. I have to go.”

Trying to contain how frustrated he was by something that was not her fault was next to impossible. But he thought he managed well given the circumstances of how he was really feeling. “Oh, s’alright. I’ll see y’at home, kitten.”

“Bye, Harry. Love you,” she said it so sweetly Harry almost forgot that he was grumpy.

“I love you, too, baby,” he managed to respond feeling the anger slowly melt away because his love for her was so encompassing he couldn’t feel mad when he was thinking about her, let alone when all he felt was love for her.

But the second she was no longer at the other end of the phone call he was all out of sorts. It had nothing to do with her. Everything he felt was in direct response to the mystery male voice that called her love. She wasn’t his love. She was Harry’s and that was it. Harry knew she was being polite. For fuck’s sake he called most people he knew love. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary and it wasn’t wrong to do it.

But he didn’t like it one bit that someone at work, with whom she spent a large chunk of time with each day, called her some pet name. What was worse, Harry knew it wasn’t the first time he called her love, and it wasn’t going to be the last. Maybe if he was significantly older Harry wouldn’t care. But until Harry knew who it was, he was going to writhe in anxiety and simmer in anger.

Immediately after, Harry cancelled his final appointment—one that wasn’t dire, so he didn’t feel too bad for his client. He also knew he would be no help if he attempted to talk and listen with him. His mind was set on one thing, and he was lucky he had enough brain power left to drive himself home without crashing from lack of attention. It didn’t stop him, however from throwing himself a pity party all the way back to their shared apartment, sulking in how mad and grumpy he felt.

On a regular day, Harry typically got home after her so he never really got a chance to spoil her by doing the little things she always took care of without so much as a question of whether it would be done or not. He threw the laundry in the washer and reloaded the dishwasher so he could get started on dinner. He didn’t really know what to make but he figured if she didn’t have to think about it, that would be nice so he settled on one of her favorite pasta dishes that Harry loved to make for her.

He heard the door open about an hour and a half after he got in. He was sitting on the stool at the breakfast bar reading his book while minding the food cooking in front of him. “Hey kitten,” he called gently.

“You got home early!” She said with delight, and he was again so affronted by how much he adored her as she all but ran from taking her shoes off and hurrying to his side. He turned on the little stool and she pushed herself between his thighs wrapping her arms around his neck as she nuzzled against his body. He once again nearly forgot he was mad. He kissed the side of her head and rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“Cancelled with m’last client,” he murmured into her hair.

She sighed contentedly and nodded against his chest. “How nice,” she mumbled into his shirt.

“How was the rest of your day?” He asked.

“It was fine...um...we’re having a company party next Friday night. It’s at this fancy club and I’m allowed to bring you, so I wanted to know if you’d like to come.”

“I always like coming with you, kitten,” he said flirtatiously.

“Shush,” she giggled and shook her head against his shirt. Harry chuckled and kissed the side of her head.

“Of course, m’love,” he said quietly. He felt the anger return once he realized he wasn’t the only one calling her love anymore. “Y’said it’s fancy. Can I request y’wear that dress y’wore to the birthday dinner?”

“I’d be okay with that,” she giggled. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

Harry combed her hair away from her ear and pressed another kiss to her temple and nodded. “Can always sneak y’off into the bathroom,” he hummed into her ear. She shivered against him, and she shook her head.

“Don’t tempt me,” she mumbled.

“I believe that dress has a slit up y’leg that I like very much,” he responded. “Would be easy enough.”

“Stop,” she said. “Don’t turn me on if dinner is going to be ready soon. I’m hungry,” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “Yes, kitten,” he said and released her from the hug he had held her captive in for the last few moments. “It’ll be ready soon, go do whatever it is y’do when m’not here,” he said.

She wandered down the hall toward the bathroom as she called back to him. “You mean run around naked?”

“Now who’s tempting who?”

*

She noted that Harry had seemed much clingier over the week. Instead of their daily texting conversation around lunch time, he started video chatting with her instead. “Just miss your face,” he said.

She smiled at him and felt her face warm at his assessment. She liked it though. Everything about Harry made her feel so loved and adored. Being with him as a roommate was almost no different than being his girlfriend, save for, he was much touchier, there were more kisses, and of course there were a lot more orgasms. “I miss you too,” she said.

It was true. If she could, she would spend every minute with Harry. She was certain she would never get sick of him. She hoped that she wasn’t clingy, but Harry never had anything less than a smile. Even their arguments were silly—there wasn’t anything to argue about because everything was near perfect. (There was one time there was bug and Harry chased her around the whole apartment with it between his fingers until she cried—that caused quite a tiff but nothing a few kisses from him couldn’t fix.)

But Harry was rarely clingy. She had to be careful because the last thing she wanted to do was to overwhelm him. Seeing Harry acting clingy though...well it was nice. It was different and she liked the fact that she wasn’t the only one obsessed in the relationship. But it did make her wonder why he was acting this way. But not enough to ask.

Much like her friend’s birthday dinner, Harry was going to meet her at the party after he got out of work. In the same fashion as the day of the dinner, she waited outside patiently for Harry before entering.

“Hey, you coming in, or are you just going to stand out here all night?” It was her coworker as she headed up the steps to get inside.

She let out a breath of laughter. “Maybe,” she said sarcastically. “I’m just waiting on my boyfriend.”

“Oooh, the infamous boyfriend. Gonna break a lot of hearts in there tonight,” she said knowingly.

Tilting her head at her she blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, surely you know that everyone in the office is in love with you,” she rolled her eyes.

Her jaw fell open a bit and she blinked slowly. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re hot, you’re smart, you’re nice, you’re exactly the type of girl these guys want to take home to mom,” she rolled her eyes. “They’re all hoping your boyfriend isn’t real.”

Feeling her face flush red, she didn’t really know what to say in response to that. “You’re joking,” she whispered instead.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Probably just a dick measuring contest. Although if I’m to believe social media, sounds like your boyfriend will win if he’s a sex therapist. Sorry for snooping but us ladies have to stick together,” she said. Seeing that didn’t quell the worry on her friend’s face she smiled gently. “Hey, I’m only kidding. Really, it’s totally fine. They’re all just jealous you’re taken, is all.”

Rolling her lips into her mouth she shook her head. “Maybe I shouldn’t go in,” she said.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. You look incredible. You can’t not go in. It will be fine. You don’t have to stay long if it because a real issue. I’m sure your boyfriend can fend off a few finance bros,” she said knowingly. She pressed a hand on her upper arm when she still didn’t manage to assuage her fears. “Really, it’ll be okay. I’m sorry to have upset you.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I’m sorry. I know, I know. It’ll be fine. I’m just being dramatic.”

She smiled sweetly. “If you need help just send me a smoke signal and I’ll come up with an emergency,” she winked. “You’ll be fine. Please introduce me to your boyfriend I have a few bedroom questions for him,” she wiggled her eyebrows at her suggestively once more and fortunately that did make her laugh as she waved and headed inside.

Alone with her thoughts she paced slightly in front of the entry way. She looked at the menu posted outside the door in hopes of distracting herself. Reading the different entrees didn’t help much; in fact, she strongly considered calling Harry she wasn’t feeling well. Then, he wouldn’t come to the club, and they could just go spend their date night at home instead. It wasn’t that she believed they were all in love with her, that wasn’t something her humble self could imagine. But what she did believe: it would be entirely cruel to Harry to make him suffer through an evening that she anticipated being a fun date night where she could show off how cute he was when other guys were supposedly looking at her longingly.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” she spun around and smiled at Harry approaching her much like the last time. “Y’really gonna be the death of me in this dress, kitten,” Harry said wrapping an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek in greeting. “Did y’have a nice day?” He asked scanning over her whole body. His smile grew as he looked her over. It was amazing he had no idea about the apparent tumult that was about to ensue if she walked in there.

“Yeah,” she said and her eyes also, shamelessly, scanned Harry up and down. “You look...” she sighed and her smile grew on her face by the second. “Maybe we will end up in the bathroom.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t make it hard fo’ me t’walk in there, love,” he murmured in her ear and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Let’s go show off this dress before I rip it off you.”

*

Harry wondered if she knew everyone was looking at her. Harry was introduced to every one of her coworkers and they nearly paid no mind to him at all as they took in her ethereal being. The only one that paid any attention to him was her female coworker that had no less than fifteen questions about the bedroom. He took each one in stride because it was his corner of the world and he loved sharing his knowledge and advice about how to make things better.

“Well now that we’re close Harry, what can you tell me about stimulating the g-spot?”

“Jesus Christ,” she said putting a hand over her eyes. “Why don’t you take his card,” she laughed. “I’m going to lose my mind,” she said.

Harry chuckled and smirked. “I like your questions,” he promised her. “They’re good ones,” he assured her. “Sounds like you have a healthy bedroom life,” he winked at her.

“I like him,” she whispered to the sweet girl in the beautiful dress but obviously Harry could hear. “Bring him any time,” she said and gave her arm a squeeze and mumbled something in her ear before she flitted away to start some other conversation. Harry didn’t pay much attention to whatever she mumbled.

“She’s fun,” Harry remarked as they headed toward the bar to get another drink. Harry liked the way she held his upper arm as they walked. He loved having her attached to his arm; he thought they must have looked like the classiest power couple.

Harry wasn’t with her because she was beautiful—there were so many other important reasons why he adored her. The fact she was beautiful was the icing on the cake. Getting to show her off as his girlfriend was one of his favorite past times.

Especially when he could show her off in front of most of her coworkers who he already despised.

He tried. Really tried. He showed up with an open mind—he didn’t think about the guy that called her love the entire ride over. He was going to be good; he wasn’t going to worry about anything like that while he was with her. The last thing Harry wanted was to embarrass her at work.

But the second the two entered the room he felt every pair of eyes gaze at the gorgeous girl at his side. Naturally, she had no idea. Harry was grateful for that because as he was ready to lose his mind, she gave his hand a squeeze as she thanked him for being there.

There wasn’t a world in which he wouldn’t do literally anything for her.

“Oh loads,” she rolled her eyes. “I think we’re going to have dinner soon, thank God.”

“Y’hungry, kitten?” He chuckled. She nodded silently, sighing dramatically. He smirked. “Well, d’you want t’find us some seats and I’ll grab the drinks?”

“Are you sure?” She asked her eyebrows pinched together with worry. Worry about what, Harry wasn’t sure.

He nodded. “I think I can manage a vodka cranberry and m’own drink.”

“And find our seats?” She wrinkled her nose cutely at her own joke.

“Might be tough. Might have t’actively think ‘bout breathing t’keep m’self going.”

She giggled. “Okay, thank you, Harry.”

“Anything for you, m’love,” he mumbled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. With a squeeze of his bicep, she released him to go find a pair of seats.

Harry knew it was a risk to let her go alone but he hoped as professionals they wouldn’t turn this evening into an issue...and they wouldn’t turn into vultures. As Harry turned with the two drinks in hand he practically knew they would be all over her. There the poor thing was guarding Harry’s seat beside her as if her life depended on it.

Of course, Harry couldn’t come storming in like an idiot. So, as much as he wanted to run to her side so he could protect her—even if she didn’t truly need protecting—he casually sauntered over. “Here, kitten,” he said softly and placed the drink over her shoulder.

“Oh, hi,” she said and while no one else heard it, it made Harry happy he heard the relief in her voice. Harry sat down beside her squeezing her shoulder as he sat down. Effortlessly, she reached for Harry’s hand once he was seated and squeezed once her fingers threaded through his. She began introducing everybody to Harry, who all nodded at him respectfully, but Harry could see the competition in their eyes. He didn’t like it. Harry knew there was no competition. But it still made all the blood run hot inside him. “This is my boyfriend, Harry,” she said finally.

“We thought she made you up,” one of them snickered.

Harry forced a smile and nodded. “M’very real,” he promised.

She gave his hand another tight squeeze. “Oh, thank God you got a seat across from me!” The only coworker of hers that Harry enjoyed: the lovely girl who asked tons of questions. Although Harry prayed she wouldn’t ask any of them right now. He knew that their minds would only be on one thing—and that was the gorgeous girl beside him. It was infuriating how much Harry loved that dress on her and now he wanted her to be wearing anything but that dress—and not in a fun way. She directed a smile at her and Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that she was clearly uncomfortable.

“I see you all met Harry, I told you he was real,” she rolled her eyes.

“She’s got no pictures of you, Harry,” one of them smirked. “She once made up this imaginary delivery...so we couldn’t be sure,” he explained.

“I found that delivery, thank you very much. I didn’t see any of you running around the building trying to match the picture,” she rolled her eyes as she sipped her drink.

Harry smirked and shook his head as he sipped his own drink. Less is more he thought to himself regarding talking to all of the guys that looked at him as if he was the enemy. She seemed to relax a bit as her grip on his hand lessened as the seconds ticked by. Everyone was engrossed in a story and the upcoming Monday Meeting, so Harry was able to enjoy the moment even though he still felt a bit on edge. Dinner was going to be served at any moment, so they all took seats around the table.

Harry couldn’t help but notice how close the guy beside her was sitting. Beneath the table Harry felt her knee bump against his and she whispered a sorry under her breath. He gave her hand a squeeze and took another sip of his drink. Harry and she made small talk and eventually he had to release her hand so he could eat. It nearly killed him.

“Any trips planned for your vacation?” Her friend asked as she brought a bite of salad to her mouth.

“We’re doing a weekend down by the coast,” Harry answered as she was in the middle of chewing. She pressed the napkin to her lips politely and she nodded.

“A wine tour and just a day by the beach will do me some good,” she smiled.

“Oh, how lovely,” she cooed.

“There’s a really good bookshop down by the hotel you’re staying at,” one of the guys across the table said. Harry felt his muscles tense knowing they all knew where they were staying. Of course, it wasn’t her fault. Harry wasn’t mad that she told him; that’s what coworkers did—they talked to each other. He just wished with everything in him that they didn’t think she was gorgeous the way he thought she was. “The missus really likes it, and I know you like books too,” he said kindly. Harry felt his muscles relax a bit—the missus, this guy was okay. Fine, Harry could eat his pasta in peace now.

“Amazing,” she grinned happily. “Just need a coffee shop and I’ll be good for the whole weekend,” she joked.

“M’sure they’ll have one,” Harry chuckled.

“It’s impressive how much coffee she can drink,” this time it was the guy to her right. “If she could do it with beer she could compete.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that much.”

“It’s at least three cups. You’re constantly doing Starbucks runs,” the one beside his eyes.

She shrugged. “I like coffee.”

Harry chuckled. “I’ll get you a coffee maker like the one in m’office,” Harry suggested quietly.

“Office, huh? Are you an accountant as well? Is that how you both met?”

This time Harry saw her muscles tense. “Oh, no...er...we went to the same college,” Harry said. “I studied psychology...I’m a therapist,” he said breezily. The girl across from them took a gulp of her drink and eyed the table suspiciously. The poor thing beside Harry knew that he was keeping specific details away from the people she worked with, and she was so grateful Harry just knew that he should do that.

“Oh cool,” he responded. “My mom’s a therapist. What’s your specialty?”

Harry didn’t miss a beat, as if he had planned on answering. “I deal with people who struggle with their relationships mostly,” he said.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s one of the best things I’ve done with my life. S’very rewarding,” Harry said proudly.

They all seemed to nod in agreement. “Not like here,” one snorted. It was a joke, because financial business was obviously completely different than therapeutic business. This resulted in laughter and fortunately got them away from the topic for which she was so relieved.

“Harry’s nice,” the guy beside her whispered.

“Mm, he’s the best,” she answered softly as she continued eating.

“Lucky guy he is,” he murmured. She ignored the comment. She didn’t want to start anything. But Harry saw her cheek turn one shade pinker. Beneath the table he gave her leg a gentle squeeze.

They just had to get through dinner and dessert.

*

Unfortunately, dinner turned into several drinks before dessert was even a thought. While the conversation was carefree and no one seemed to be having the dick measuring competition her friend alluded to, it was obvious that her coworkers had too much to drink. They were loud, rowdy, and definitely over the top. Harry graciously took it in stride, draping his arm across the back of her chair so he could squeeze her shoulder every now and again.

The conversation ebbed and flowed between work and leisure activities. Harry actually went to the same gym as the one coworker he did like (the one with a missus) and they had a good laugh about something that had happened to one of the machines the week prior. Another coworker also shared their affinity for books and recommended some titles for Harry which he took down in his phone.

But it was just as dessert was finishing that the guy beside her became a bit too much. It felt like it happened in slow motion, his arm knocking the drink over into her lap causing her to stand up instinctively making her own drink spill on her as well. “Shit,” he hissed.

She gasped at the coldness, the liquid sadly seeping into the beautiful dress Harry loved so much. But of course, all pairs of eyes were on her pretty chest where the coldness made her nipples harden against the fabric of her dress. Harry felt his blood burn through his veins again as the stupidly drunk guy started dabbing his napkin against her dress. “It’s fine,” she said quickly trying to brush his hand away and Harry stood as well, pulling his suit coat off and around her shoulders because he wanted to hide her nipples as quickly as possible.

They were practically drooling over her, and it made him want to murder someone, probably someone at the table, specifically.

“I got it, thank you,” she said politely as he continued dabbing at her dress. While his brain must have been foggy with alcohol, it wasn’t his fault it was the center of her dress that was ruined. Harry was nearly steaming as his hands started drifting over her thigh. She flushed brightly as she shooed his hands away again and Harry couldn’t take it, he lightly pulled her toward him stepping away from their chairs. “Enough, mate, she’s fine,” he said grumpily.

“Oh no,” she heard it from her coworker across the table.

“He was just trying to help,” one said rolling his eyes drunkenly.

“Shut up,” the only taken man besides Harry hissed back.

Harry took a deep breath trying to keep collected when all he wanted to do was throw something at these idiots. “Help? He ruined her dress?”

“I think he did us all a favor,” one snorted quietly.

“Oh, God,” she whispered again from across the table taking another large gulp of the drink in front of her.

“Oh,” Harry said flatly wrapping his arm around her tightly, so the opened front of his coat wrapped snugly around her, too. “Why’s that?”

“Harry,” she whispered and turned her face toward his chest, but she couldn’t look up to meet his gaze because he was busy glaring at the rest of the table.

“You’re a lucky guy Harry,” the idiot said.

Harry didn’t respond—he knew he was lucky. He didn’t care if she walked around naked in front of everyone, he knew she was all his, but he did not like the way they ogled her as if she was just something to be desired. She was so much more than that.

“Let’s go,” she whispered to Harry.

“Oh, come on, love,” it was the voice from the phone call.

“Don’t call her love,” Harry snapped.

“Harry,” she whispered gently again. She felt horrible—so horrible.

“Please don’t go; m’sorry about your dress. You still look gorgeous in it—I’ll have it dry cleaned for you,” he said. “Take it off and I’ll bring it back for you—”

Harry opened his mouth to say something, something not good she was sure, but she ignored it and gave Harry a hard shove toward the door as she snagged her purse off the back of her chair. Harry released his hold around her shoulders and grabbed her hand as he fumed, leaving through the door. In heels it was nearly impossible to keep up with Harry. “Harry, slow down please,” she whispered. He slowed barely, pulling her to his car. He opened the passenger door and nearly shoved her inside.

“We’ll get your car tomorrow,” he grumbled and closed her door angrily as he stalked around to the other side.

“Harry, wait,” she pleaded as he shoved the key into the ignition angrily. He was still fuming and she didn’t want him to drive if he was this mad.

“M’fine,” he snapped.

She was silent. With her hands in her lap the only comfort she had was Harry’s smell from his jacket wrapped around her. He sped home, breathing heavily, her heart raced at how tense it felt in the small space of the car. It was so quiet she wanted to cry. She felt like it was her fault and her whole body felt achy with worry.

Once parked outside the building, Harry gripped his steering wheel with both hands and stared out the windshield into the dark as if he could see through the darkness.

Eventually, she couldn’t take the silence a moment longer and finally spoke. Wringing her hands together, nervously. “Harry, I’m sorry,” she whispered. He remained silent, didn’t even look at her, which worried her more. When she worried—especially about Harry—she tended to ramble. “I... I truly had no idea they liked me up until tonight. In fact, until four minutes before you showed up. I’m so sorry. I never would have put you in that position and it wasn’t fair to ask you to come. It was so nice of you to do it. They don’t act like that in the office, I promise. I don’t...” she shook her head, tears filling her vision. She knew it wasn’t really her fault, but it felt like it and Harry not talking made her feel worse. “If I knew—"

“Y’can’t leave me for one of them,” he muttered and glanced down at his lap before looking out the windshield again.

She released a small gasp processing the words as they made it to her ears. “W-what?” She whispered.

Closing his eyes like he was in pain, Harry sighed. “Someone called you love when I was on the phone with you the other day,” he explained. “Made me mad,” he muttered.

She the blush flood her cheeks. “But—”

“I know,” he said without having to hear her thought process. He already knew what she was going to say. “It doesn’t make sense,” he shook his head. “M’sorry,” he mumbled. “Then...tonight. Obviously, I wouldn’t skip this for you,” he promised. “But...I couldn’t imagine you in this...” he finally turned to look at her and he scanned her up and down again. “I couldn’t imagine not being around you when y’looked so stunningly attractive,” he bit his lip. “They have every right t’think you’re beautiful—because you are, kitten. You’re...s’pretty. S’impossible to be rational. I can’t blame them for looking at you. For wanting me t’not exist. If I were them, I’d be jealous of me.”

“Harry,” she breathed. “But you are...you.”

He shrugged. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, kitten,” he repeated. "The devil doesn’t have anything on how temptin’ you are,” he smirked sadly. “S’not your fault,” he shook his head sighing again. “M’jus’... I’ve never been s’jealous in m’life,” he said looking back at his hands. She wanted to smooth out the wrinkle he made in his forehead. “I don’t like that other men know how beautiful y’are. I want t’keep you all t’m’self,” he murmured. “So...please don’t leave me for one of them,” he repeated.

“Harry,” she whispered.

“I know, I know, kitten. S’jus...” he sighed.

“Harry...I don’t think I could leave you for anyone,” she told him.

He smiled and turned to look at her. “M’sorry for acting like a jealous caveman.”

“They were out of line.”

“Doesn’t mean I needed t’act like that,” he shrugged. “I jus’ didn’t like the way they looked at you.”

She looked down at her stained dress, Harry’s coat draped around her, and she looked back toward Harry. “You have nothing to be jealous about,” she promised. “M’so in love with you...and...you’re the only one that can make me cum, obviously,” she reminded him.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “S’that the only reason y’keep me around?” He murmured. He sounded like he was kidding but she could hear the worry in his voice.

“There’s about a hundred other reasons before that, you silly goose,” she promised.

They sat in comfortable silence for another moment. “We better get y’inside and out of that dress,” he said quietly. She nodded in response.

Harry unclipped his seatbelt. “I hope that stain comes out,” he frowned. “You look extra beautiful every time I see you in it,” he reminded her.

She blushed and smiled as she turned from him bashfully unclipping her belt as well. “Thank you,” she said cutely. Harry gave her knee a squeeze.

“I also want y’out of your dress so I can make y’cum so hard y’would have ruined the dress anyway...They weren’t the only ones looking at your pretty little nipples when the drinks spilled on you,” he promised so easily it sent a shock of electricity all through the center of her body.

“Oh...oh...” she repeated herself dumbly as he came around to her side to help her out of the car. His eyes dipped down to the V of her dress and he watched as her nipples poked against the fabric once more. He smirked and brushed his thumbs over each one as he sighed. She moaned quietly.

“Better make sure m’the only one who continues t’make y’cum,” his voice was so warm and seductive it made her press her thighs together for some sort of relief. As he whispered across her cheeks and pressed his lips against hers, she felt every word he spoke surge through her body like an electric current. “Better do it, quick, too, huh, m’love?”

#harry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles blurbs #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #hs #hs fic #hs writing #one direction #one direction writing #harry styles au #therapy

[bbnibini]

Unhinged Obey Me Nightbringer Thought: Solomon's Dream Paradox

I've been having some thoughts about Nightbringer lately, and this in particular won't leave my mind (to call it a theory is a stretch, more of an AU or what if but it's fun!)

(spoilers for S4 onwards in OG Obey me under the cut:)

What if all of the events in Nightbringer were a product of Solomon's dream? What if all this time, we were never spirited away, never disappeared, but had just...never awoken ever again?

Worse of all...what if we don't even exist? What if we actually died in Chapter 16? What if the timelines weren't actually ever merged and there was an actual timeline where we died and our death had left everyone a mess?What if the we the brothers had come to know were someone (who loves us very much)'s very much embellished idea of us?

I've been seeing a lot of speculation in the fandom lately, discussing one of the most noticeable plotholes in the current story:

Where the hell is Solomon (NB timeline)?

Here are some of my speculations(to correlate with the dream theory)

1. NB Solomon isn't around because he is currently in a slumber, much like the Demon King.

In season 4, we come to know that Solomon had willingly placed himself inside a dream world and was not seen for several years. He just...vanished and was never heard from again. Sound familiar?

For some reason, Solomon's reasoning didn't really...sound right to me if that makes sense? While I don't doubt that he is ready and willing to jump into timelines for us...and can be quite shortsighted and one-track minded even (to the point he seemed almost uncaring and flippant in this scene):

There are obvious variables that were overlooked in what he said:

What happened to the Demon Brothers?

Why was he able to use Barbatos' powers WITHOUT Diavolo's permission? (When OG Obm said that Barbatos couldn't use his powers without Diavolo's permission?)

Which brings me to the conclusion that there was possibly something that went wrong when Solomon had jumped into spacetime. And for continuity's sake in this "theory", let's just say, it has cost him your life. And he could never bring himself to accept your death.

Which brings us to:

2. NB Solomon jumped into timelines to try and save you several times but failed.

This is where...things become complicated. Assuming that the second bullet point is true, then this explains Solomon's sense of urgency in his first call with us.

The sense of urgency is because he knows the consequences of his several failures. It had gone to the point where his recklessness becomes more apparent and he had become more upfront in protecting us because:

3. The NB Timeline is all a dream, and it's a dream Solomon is having over and over to quell his regrets.

The more I think about it, the more I feel like NB is too...pandering or maybe too... indulgent and wish-fulfilling if we look at it at Solomon's perspective:

He gets to have you as his apprentice

You live together with him

You have a stronger bond in the NB timeline and you trust each other.

He gets to have pacts with his own demons much earlier than the original timeline.

He has a chance to revisit locations from his past that might have significantly changed in the previous timeline (like the Otherworld and the Realm of Knowledge)

If everything in NB is just Solomon's dream, this would also explain why Barbatos is very upset with him. Because:

Solomon made him use his powers without Diavolo's permission

He had stuck himself inside a dream and refused to wake up and bear the responsibility of your loss

Inevitably, this theory would almost make him the likeliest candidate for Nightbringer because of these scenes:

Notice that he said YOU SEEK TO FORGE PACTS WITH ALL THE BROTHERS and that is precisely what HE WOULD LIKE AS WELL.

Wasn't it Solomon who told us we should forge pacts to "go back to the original timeline"?

Nightbringer's words are very on-brand with Solomon's well-meaning yet out-of-touch way of him of showing affection.

He is immortal, so his way of describing time also checks out. This is the same man who told us that he used to live in a colourless world before we arrived.

And why he always writes himself out of scenarios where everyone seems to bond and get closer because NB is written in his perspective and in his own opinion, he feels like he doesn't deserve to share the happiness with you because he had failed you. So he can only live on in a dream.

There is another angle that I can take from this ridiculous thought and that would be even more ridiculous:

There are two Solomons. NB Solomon in a slumber and the other, our OG Solomon. Barbatos does not like OG Solomon because he assumes he is an impostor.

This is again an unhinged thought that I wouldn't even call it a theory. I doubt this will ever be canon but does it explain so much lmao.

#i have himeko's nightglow playing while i was cooking this up #sorry im a sad mess #i told you it was unhinged #it made more sense in my head then again im not really in the mood to write rn #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me nightbringer spoilers

[thewakingcloak]

The State of Things Past

this post is mirrored from the Studio Spacefarer Patreon! please consider supporting me, and you’ll get access to devlog posts, gifs, and other info before the public!

Like I mentioned in my previous post, The Waking Cloak has been in development for eight years.

ProtoDungeon: Episode III has itself been in development for a few years, pretty much since 2019 (oooof). I've gotten plenty of questions about how the project is coming, as well as the occasional question of whether The Waking Cloak / ProtoDungeon is even alive at all at this point. Thank you for asking this. It means people are still interested in these games.

Okay, but still, what happened? Why are things taking so long? Well, this post is the first in the Christmas Carol series, in which the ~Ghost of Spacefarer Past~ appears to explain things (wooo spooky explanation sounds).

Progress has been made, very slowly, on ProtoDungeon: Episode III. I'd love to have done more, but, well… in the time since I released Episode II, we continued adjusting to parenthood for our first kid, went through the pandemic, had a second baby (who is now almost 3yo), and survived through a series of really difficult events, which culminated in a move to a new house in a new town and the start of a new chapter (but that last bit we'll save that for the Ghost of Christmas Present so he feels useful).

But yeah, it's been a rough ride. My wife and I are intentionally open about what's been going on. At the same time, the internet is an extremely public place, and I don't want to overshare, or worse, trigger anything for anyone, so I'll try to keep this list brief:

Two miscarriages (the first one was late term, and absolutely, brutally devastating)

The loss of our faith community due to the pandemic

Loss of job for my wife due to the pandemic (the pandemic was unkind to teachers)

Loss of a dream job prospect for my wife (same issue)

The great Texas freeze and power outage (us huddling under blankets in shifts through the night with our newborn infant (he's fine now!))

Severe, life-threatening post-partum and post-natal depression

Family covid and two-week cabin-fever quarantines (twice, despite being vaccinated and careful)

The death of my grandma (we were not able to attend her memorial due to aforementioned covid and living on the other side of the country)

Multiple heart attacks for my father despite his active and healthy lifestyle

Autoimmune disease scare for my wife (may still be a thing, just dormant?)

etc., etc., ad infinitum.

A lot of people have had things significantly worse, so this is definitely not an attempt to "compare griefs" as it were. This is just context for, no matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise, the fact that I didn't have the mental or emotional (or temporal) space for creativity. It was one thing after another, and we were just trying to keep our heads above water.

Even when we'd mostly recovered from the hits that just kept comin', we moved away from what my wife lovingly refers to as the "trauma house", and she started a teaching job at a brand-new school. Both were good things, but they were pretty big transitions, and it takes time for the ol' brains to adjust. We love our new home now and have a bit more breathing room.

Okay but also I HAVE been working on ProtoDungeon. Dev was really sporadic, but it did happen. The next post will have more detail on the status of Episode III, but there were kind of two big things I worked on during the past three years, big shifts in the foundation of ProtoDungeon and The Waking Cloak.

First, I switched game perspective. I made a few posts about this a while back, but PD/TWC interiors were originally like Zelda interiors (where you see the insides of all four walls). There are good reasons to do this, but it was also kinda making me crazy. So I switched to a more natural front-perspective, keeping things consistent with the exteriors. It definitely was the right choice for the game I wanted to build, but it took time.

Second, and building on that, I made the game fully faux-3D. You can walk behind or in front of stuff--not something the old Zelda games did, and still pretty rare for 2D games. I was toying with the idea for a long time, but I played through an old PlayStation title, Alundra, and that convinced me it could be done. It's way harder than you might expect, and it was a massive block for me for literally years. I was able to slowly work my way past it and finally resolved it with a 3D z-tilting method, but dev slowed to a crawl.

And that's it for now! The ghost releases you from your vision of Spacefarer Past….

Thanks for reading :)

#gamedev #indiedev #the waking cloak #devlog #devblog #game development #protodungeon

[constant-mason24]

The Fall of Raccoon City- Chapter Two (Leon Kennedy x Reader AU)

(Y/n) is getting whiplash from her Captain, and Leon begins his first real day on the job.

♦♣♥♠

(Y/n) was now on day two of her ongoing headache, though the hangover was probably more at fault than her stress. Or maybe the fact that she couldn’t remember the last time she had just a plain glass of water? Meh, she could live off of coffee and beer, right?

As she walks in through the front door of the RPD, her day is significantly brightened by the sight of her favorite person’s face. She quickly makes her way to Rebecca, hoping to get to talk with her before they inevitably have to start working again. As she approached her best friend, (Y/n) realizes the poor girl has bags under her eyes, and she looks like she can barely stand. 

“Good morning, starshine.” (Y/n) laughed humorlessly. “You look even worse than I feel. What happened to catching up on sleep?”

“It didn’t happen.” Rebecca fights back a yawn, and (Y/n) huffs.

“That’s apparent. Did something happen last night?”

“No, I just got caught up in my own work again.” 

“Is Wesker getting on you too?”

“No,” She shook her head. "I chose to put this much effort in myself. Now I have to suffer the consequences."

Rebecca sighed as she lifted her coffee mug to her lips, and (Y/n) frowned. 

"You have to be crazy to actively decide to work yourself this hard."

"Well," the shorter girl's voice dropped to a whisper as she glanced to the side. "I have good reason to be working this hard. We need to have a private talk sometime."

"Oh, ok." (Y/n) tried to ease the sudden flare of anxiety rising in her stomach. 

"Speaking of Wesker," and just like that the subject changed. "He has been acting very odd recently."

"He isn't like that all the time?"

"No, just since Irons' arrest. And only towards you."

"Well, I'll try not to take it personally."

"Do you think we could grab lunch together today?"

“Oh,” She winces. “I have to go speak to the prosecutor today. Do you think we could do it tomorrow?”

 Rebecca’s face brightens. “Yeah, tomorrow would work in our favor. The sooner the better, though. We really can't push this off much longer.”

“I’m sensing it’s something urgent.” (Y/n) mutters, fixing her best friend with a look that read 

‘Just what are you hiding?’

“Very. We can explain over lunch tomorrow.” We? “I have to go. See you later, (Y/n).”

“Bye.” She waved goodbye to Rebecca, forcing the grimace off of her face as she realized she now had no excuse to avoid her meeting with Wesker. Today was chock full of talking to people (Y/n) frankly found to be intimidating. Lawyers were tricky, and Wesker was grumpy. Neither one was ideal to her, but at least she felt certain the prosecutor wouldn’t literally bite her head off. Wesker, she wasn’t so sure. 

Her footsteps felt heavy as she made her way through the west office, heading towards the stairs leading to the second floor. She takes a hopeful glance at Leon’s desk as she passes but it looks relatively untouched. That isn’t out of the ordinary, considering he only started here yesterday. After a month it’ll look more like his own personal space. What she’s really disappointed in is the fact that he isn’t sitting there when she walks by. Oh, well. Maybe she’ll bump into him later. 

As she makes her way up the stairs and around the hall to the S.T.A.R.S. office, she feels a shiver run down her spine. The bustling noises of people moving throughout the building brings her no comfort as she is reminded of the last time she had to go sit in the chief’s office. It didn’t matter that his office was on the opposite side of the station, or that he was long gone from this place and Celia was going to see Wesker instead. She still felt that same haunting chill that she had experienced then.

That chill only got worse as she sat on the visiting side of Albert Wesker’s desk, trying to avoid the sight of her own reflection in those ever-present glasses of his. She briefly wondered what the color of his eyes were, before coming to the conclusion she’d really rather not know. 

“So, are we here to discuss the trial of Brain Irons again, sir?” (Y/n) asked politely, sitting stiff and rigid as she tried not to outwardly shake like a leaf. Despite the fact that Wesker was as cool as a cucumber, she couldn’t help but see visions of her meeting with Irons just before his arrest. “I’ve overlooked every file and report like you’ve asked me to. I feel confident I can deliver a testimony that will satisfy both you and the court.”

He was collected, yes, but he was not calm. Irons had been a raging storm, anger barely contained as he sat at his desk with his hands folded in front of her face. He was hiding a sneer, spitting hateful words in cutting tones at her before reaching into his desk and pulling out a shining metal gun-

(Y/n) is torn from her vision as Wesker sets the papers he pulled from his desk in front of her. 

Right. This isn’t… that… 

She glances at the papers before looking up at the captain. “A new S.T.A.R.S. assignment?”

“Yes.” Wesker leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid Chief Branagh and I have had to pull some strings. You won’t be attending the trial after all-”

“Wait, you’re kidding right?” She interrupted him before she could stop herself, noticing how he grimaced. “I need to testify! He shot me for Christ's sake!”

“Believe me, we know how important your testimony will be. But they have your written reports and all of the files on the incident. I understand your frustration, but as a part of the team, your presence is required here.”

She leaned back in her own chair as well, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair. “I get that, sir. But if I can’t testify… what if Irons walks free?”

“Oh, I highly doubt he will. Even without you there in person, the evidence of your injury at his hands and all his other misdeeds is still very much on display for the jury to see. Irons will be convicted of his crimes, I’m sure of it. Now, I’m afraid this assignment takes priority here”

(Y/n) nodded softly, looking down at the desk as her stomach began to coil with the stress. She felt sick, terrified of leaving an even worse impression on the captain by disposing of her breakfast on his desk. Even though this conversation was so calm, she still looked at his face and saw the anger that came before she bit the bullet…

What was she supposed to say to him? ‘Sorry, sir, you remind me of the man that shot me and now I'm having vivid flashbacks that make me wanna vomit profusely. Don't take it too personally.’

“Okay. I’ll be meeting with the prosecution over lunch today,” She spoke softly, barely a mumble as her grip on the arms of the chair tightened. “I’ll let them know I won’t be there.”

“Good. Take these to them.” Wesker handed her another folder, this one she presumed was full of the papers needed to excuse her absence. “We’ll debrief on the mission tomorrow afternoon. Prepare yourself.” 

She took that as her cue to vacate his office.

♦♠♣♥

It was late morning when Leon took a walk into the breakroom of the RPD. He had just returned from a short ride-along with officer Stevenson and was looking forward to a snack before they headed back out. Poor guy was starving, but that somehow slipped his mind as he saw (Y/n) (L/n) sitting at one of the tables with her purse in front of her. She looked up from the closed envelope that held her attention, beaming as she recognized who has walked in.

“Hey, there’s my rookie! Looks like my day’s gotten brighter.”

“So you remember last night?” Leon chuckled, referring to the little nickname she had awarded him. 

“Pfft, I wasn’t that drunk, Kennedy!” She scoffed, standing to move toward the breakroom sink. She ran her cup under the water, rinsing it clean of the coffee it had held before. “You know if it bothers you, you can tell me right?”

“What? Calling me your rookie?”

“Yeah. I mean to be playful, but I don’t want to cross any lines or anything.”

“No, it’s fine.” Leon sits across from her as she retakes her seat. “Actually, I thought it was cute.”

“You said a very similar thing about the banner I made for you.” She gave a smug little half-grin. “Is this your way of admitting you think I’m cute?”

“If the shoe fits.” Leon huffs, leaning back in his seat. He hoped he looked cool and smooth, and not like the flailing ball of awkward panic that he was. (Y/n) laughed, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh like he had made a fool of himself. It was more of a pleased laugh, like she found him charming. God, he hoped she found him charming. 

“You’re funny, Kennedy.” Her smile and eyes both grew soft. “I think I picked a good rookie to hold onto.”

“So,” Leon kinda shrugged, unsure of how to continue the rather flirty conversation from there. “How has work been today?”

She sighed heavily at that, a surefire sign that work was not all sunshine and rainbows for her. 

“Well, all the time I’ve spent preparing for trial has gone to waste. I’m being sent on my first S.T.A.R.S. assignment soon, so I won’t be making it to the trial. We’ll have tom wait and see how that goes.”

“That’s a bummer.” Leon frowned. “You don’t sound too excited about that.”

“Sorry, I forgot I was supposed to be.” She laughed humorlessly, more to ease any tension that might have been building up than anything else. She glances at the watch sitting on her wrist, seemingly having lost track of time. “Oh, I gotta go. I’m having lunch with the prosecutor on the case.”

“Going over the last details?”

“Gotta break it to him that I can’t make the date.” (Y/n) squinted. “It feels so weird that they can just… tell me not to go. Usually, a trial takes priority over everything else.”

“This assignment must be pretty damn important then.” Leon watched as she began to ruffle through her purse. “What’s it about?”

“Dunno,” She pursed her lips. “I’ll be finding out tomorrow. Wesker seemed to think it was crucial.” 

She pulled sunglasses from her bag, putting them on as she mimicked the captain’s voice. 

“The assignment takes priority. Your presence is required here.”

Leon snorts, shaking his head as she lifts the glasses atop her head and smiles. 

“Seriously, that guy talks like a cheesy movie villain. Kinda gives me the creeps. But I gotta go, I’ll catch ya later, rookie!”

“See ya.” Leon waves goodbye as she leaves the room, reaching for the bag of chips he had bought from the vending machine. Just as he tore the bag open, Stevenson came into the room in a hurry. 

“Hey, Kennedy, we gotta move.” He panted. “Armed robbery down the road.  Rodriguez is already there but they want us to come help take care of it.”

“Shit!” Leon left his bag of chips unattended as he shot up to leave.

#Leon kennedy x reader #Leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #reisdent evil #resident evil 2 #rebecca chambers #albert wesker #marvin branagh #brian irons #STARS

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

When I was in high school, I was affectionately given the nickname “loose cannon” by my friends/teammates. The nickname stuck for years; my best friend gave me a pen engraved with the words “loose cannon” for my 27th birthday. I wore it proudly, I like being the loose cannon. Sometimes the world needs a loose cannon. But also, being a loose cannon is tiring and sometimes a genuinely bad idea.

I was given this nickname as a teenager, when my team was taken over by a coach who was an abusive asshole in many ways, and one of those ways involved sexism. Throughout my first few years in the sport – 2004 to 2010 or so – I went between being the only girl on my coed team, and one of two or three girls. The number of girls in the sport increased significantly about ten years ago, and now it’s still not 50/50, but hovers around 65/45, which is a massive improvement. But not when I was that age.

When I was that age, high school and early university, I was hanging out with my male teammates, struggling through practice and then hanging out afterward to complain about how much we hated our horrible abusive sexist coach. Think the villains in Karate Kid/Cobra Kai, or perhaps Mighty Ducks. Sports movies with cartoonish villains are often less of an exaggeration than one might expect.

We all did different things to rebel against him. Subtle things, mostly, because we were young and had no power and none of us would have been there if he had anything besides this sport in our lives, that would mean we could risk getting kicked off the team. Mainly, we complained about him to each other in cars parked in lots on the way home from practice.

I was the first one to decide I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. I had a huge issue with my coach when I was sixteen years old, involving his treatment of the girls, and first I conducted this feud through vaguely passive-aggressive emails. I read through every single page of the provincial and national code of ethics and code of conduct, and highlighted all the parts he was breaking, because I thought if I just did enough homework and knew enough about what I was talking about then I could win. But he didn’t care. No one actually cares if you do bother to know what you’re talking about. I remember sitting in practice, seething, listening to him tell us how girls were different from boys, digging fingernails into my hands to stop myself from saying anything.

One day after practice, I got into an argument, and I lost it on him. I mean – I remember it as me losing it. I didn’t, really. I never yelled or swore or anything. He yelled. I remember him yelling. I remember me not yelling. But I did tell him what I thought of him, for the first time. I accused him of being the reason my one female teammate had left, moved across the country to a bigger team that was supposed to be really good for girls (since then, the coach of that team has lost his job over sexual abuse of female athletes, after ten years of allegations that didn’t lead to him losing his job until some finally brought enough legal pressure to force his employers’ hands, so, you know, nothing is good anywhere). I told him the methods he was bringing in weren’t okay, none of the athletes were happy, I hated the way he treated me differently from the boys but also those boys were my teammates and I hated the way he treated us all. It was the first time any of us had ever gone off on him this way.

Obviously, it didn’t help. I was ostracized from the team for a long time, he took his anger out on all of us for weeks, nothing got better but things got a little worse. It was a stupid thing to do. I think that incident is actually the first thing that got me nicknamed “loose cannon”. The way my teammates and I saw it, we were in a tactical war against this guy, trying to beat him by legitimate means. And I had just gone off because I couldn’t control my anger, and it made us all look bad.

Ever since then, that’s been my role. My best friend and I stuck around until that guy finally left town, went off to run another team seven hours away and terrorize the athletes down there for a few years (before moving again and then finally losing his coaching certification for a number of reasons). So we took over the team, and have been running it ever since. But there are always new people to fight. Always. People who do fucked up things, which always includes sexism. We’re always getting tangled in the politics and the drama, and of the two of us, I’m the one who risks my reputation by doing what I think is right even if it’s stupid and gets me into trouble and fights, while my friend is the acceptable and respectable face of us, making friends and being charismatic. He’s good at that. He can be friendly and polite and likeable and all the things I’m not. While I go out with my anger and then wonder why it never works out the way I want. We make a good team that way – my friend does acknowledge that we need both sides sometimes to get anything done.

But it’s fucking demoralizing, and I can’t emotionally detach myself. I don’t have any mode besides trying really hard and caring a lot about what happens. I have a letter in my file that gets sent to the principal of any school where I try to coach, because in 2013, some high school girls told me the coach from their school was making them mop the mats but not the boys because it’s women’s work, telling the boys not to work with them because it’s a waste of time working with girls, making vaguely creepy comments about their appearances, and at the championships, they wanted me in their corner instead of him. I looked it up, learned that the official championship rules say any coach from our city can corner any athlete from our city and doesn’t need to be from their school, I printed out the page of the rules that said so in case I got challenged and brought it to the tournament. When we got there, I went into their corner against their high school coach’s instructions. He complained about me to the commissioner, I presented the rule page when challenged, I was told that rules or not, he’s their school coach, and it’s “common courtesy” to let him decide who corners them. Because fuck what they want.

I was told this was the discretion of the entire city’s athletic director, who was back home, five hours away, and would not be on my side, but if I wanted to take this farther I could take it to him, but unless I could change his mind I wouldn’t be allowed to corner them anymore. I thought about how I’d promised those girls I’d be there for them and protect them from this guy, so I said yeah, give me the athletic director’s number. I called that guy, whom I’d never met before, and he shut me down immediately. Said no, I was being disrespectful and impolite to a man who had been a stalwart of the sport since before I’d been born (which is true, the sexist coach they hated was about 60 and I was 22 at the time), and then he very literally said the words “If I hear about you going near any athletes from that school for the rest of this week, I will make sure you never coach in this city again.” Like I said, sports movies are often not far off in their levels of drama.

I now have a letter in my file, warning the principals of any school where I try to coach that I have a history of being disrespectful to other coaches so they should be careful about me. It says that in 2013, I told an athletics commissioner “I don’t care about common courtesy.” Which is true – I did say those words. The letter on covers half the sentence, though. The entire thing I said was “I don’t care about common courtesy, I care about protected high school girls from sexist assholes.” The letter doesn’t say that. By the way, a few years after all this happened, I learned that it’s been one of those “open secrets” for years that the athletics director who threatened me on the phone routinely offers female teachers promotions in exchange for blowjobs. But sure, I was the one being inappropriate. Do I still hold a grudge over some shit that happened in 2013? Yeah, maybe.

That’s what I do, though. It’s a running joke among my friends that I can hold a grudge forever. That I get angry about things and never let them go. That I can’t just let shit go, fucking loose cannon. And it’s exhausting. It’s exhausting being this angry all the time. I had a complete breakdown in 2019, when I resigned from a provincial board spot I’d worked so hard for, because I found out fellow members of the board had spent their own money to legally protect another known predator in the sport, and I couldn’t think of any way to protest except to resign, and of course that didn’t do anything, but being on the board didn’t do anything either, nothing ever does anything, and I got so fucking tired of being so angry all the time that I could barely get out of bed in the morning.

Today, my team look unimaginably different than it did when I was a teenager. We have something close to gender parity, or we did pre-COVID. The ratio has titled away from the female athletes, as they came back in smaller numbers post-lockdowns, but we’re growing it again. There’s one guy really getting in the way right now, though. He’s been coming into practice late, which sounds like not that big a deal, and often isn’t when most people do, but it’s the way he does it. He does it on purpose, to make the point that he’s above all this. He doesn’t listen to anyone, but makes a special point of not listening to the female coaches at all. He won’t work with the girls because it’s a waste of time, apparently. He’s been heard spouting toxic shit in the change rooms. We had problems with him at tournaments, showboating during and after matches, making out team look bad. We’ve heard from the girls that he’s been saying things to make them uncomfortable. He doesn’t treat them like his teammates anymore.

And we know what it is. We know what it fucking is, it’s always the same thing. It’s the fucking podcasts. We had this same problem last year, and earlier this year, with a different guy, who was also into those podcasts. You know the ones. Joe Rogan and Jordan Peterson are the gateway drugs, the “acceptable” face of it that people get into and then it leads to the ever worse shit. All these male voices telling younger male people (this guy’s 21, the guy from earlier this year was 24, we’ve been seeing lower levels of the problem in lots of boys for the last few years, aged anywhere from 15 to 25) that they’re better than everyone else, they have to go in and establish themselves as the alpha male. The roommate I had up until mid-2023 was into those podcasts, I know because I heard them from his bedroom. So many people are.

We’re going to have to kick him off the fucking team. We asked his best friend, a guy on the team around his age who’s known him since they were young, what he saw happening, if he thinks his friend is too far gone. And he said yeah, the coming to practice late is bad, but what’s worse is he’s become “and Andrew Tate incel”, and we need to get rid of him to avoid letting him spread the ideology to younger athletes more than he already has. His own friend said that. It’s gone too far.

I loved this guy. I have this memory of when he was fifteen, I drove five hours to pick him up for a camp. Because he had no money, and this camp was for kids with money, but he worked hard and we didn’t want him to miss out. So the team paid for his entry, and I drove him home, which his parents couldn’t do because they had six other kids and no money. I drove five hours in the morning, arrive at three PM, picked up him and his two friends, drove five hours back.

When I picked them up, the receptionist wasn’t sure if she could let them go with me, as I did not appear to be the legal guardian of these three large Middle Eastern teenagers. But then they came in, took one look at me, and shouted “Mama” and jumped on me because they hadn’t seen me in a week and had missed me. That’s what they always called me, because they’re first language is Arabic and “Mama” is the Arabic word for Mom. The receptionist saw this and said I can take them. All the way home, we played music and sang along and talked shit about the other teams. It was great.

I have another memory of this kid. When he was maybe seventeen, we picked him up at his house to drive him to a tournament. My best friend dropped me off at a nearby gas station, then went by the kid’s house, picked him up, went back to the gas station and got me. Because if the kid’s dad saw there was a woman on this trip, he wouldn’t let his son go. Because he was a conservative Muslim who believes his son shouldn’t mix with girls.

This kid overcame that! He was raised from birth in a conservative Muslim household, learned not to interact with girls, ignored that, developed a close enough coach/athlete bond with me to call me a name that said I was like a mother to him, had years of taking my advice in the sport, and being a good teammate to the girls and the boys. He overcame religious-based brainwashing, which is supposed to be the most powerful type of brainwashing. But now, a couple of years of Jordan Peterson-style podcast brainwashing, and it’s turned him into an unrecognizable person. A person we have to get off our team for the sake of everyone.

I can’t fucking tolerate it. You can get by in my sport without doing a bit of “Oh yeah, that guy has some backwards views on women, you know he listens to some of those podcasts, but his heart’s in the right place really, he’s okay.” If you hated every person you could say that about, you wouldn’t be able to tolerate almost anyone in the sport. And the thing is, I’m getting closer and closer to the point where I can’t tolerate almost anyone in the sport. I feel like a teenager again, talking to my male friends, seeing that they’re on the right side but being smart and picking their battles, and I just can’t. I can’t be okay with any of it. I want to say fuck them all. I understand that they’re right, that the people who aren’t loose cannons are right, the people who don’t hold a grudge forever, who can be in a room with these fucking people and not either desperately want to yell at them or actually yell at them, who can compromise and let go of stuff and get along. They’re right. But I’m still angry.

This post was incoherent, and I’m posting it unedited because I can’t bring myself to read this vent/rant back so sorry that it’ll be even more error-ridden than most things on this blog, but there is one overarching message to this post. And that message is, I’m tired of being the only girl and also the only person who can’t ignore this shit.

So, I have to say, if there were a male person who went off on someone for being into Jordan Peterson, to argue with him pointlessly and angrily and in a way that made another man who witnessed it say “What’s wrong with you?”, not because the witnessing man thinks Jordan Peterson is fine, just because he’s a reasonable person who knows that picking fights with people doesn’t help. But he doesn’t care, because he’s too angry about sexism to let shit go. If there were a man who did that, rather than it always being the women’s job to do it, then that man might earn my undying loyalty.

[quotemenevervore]

And here be

Chapter 3

Content warnings: fire, fear, panic, argument, injury mention

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“Quackity… Karl doesn’t remember you.”

At first, his brain completely halted in shock. Then one peep of laughter escaped, then another, sounding more like a sob. “I know you guys don’t like me, but please don’t play with me.” “I’m not. Hell, he’s been forgetting me too, and I live with him. Something’s been going on, but he won’t explain anything to me.” Setting the washcloth in the sink, he grabbed the small roll of gauze bandage he had. “Need to get more soon.” “Yeah..” Quackity’s mind was reeling. Why… How could Karl be losing his memory? Didn’t he read and document things constantly? “Why…” he trailed off, watching the other wrap his leg with a singular piece of gauze, taping the ends together with medical tape. “Hm?” “Why do you think Karl’s losing his memory?” The fireborn sighed, beginning to put the first aid kit back together then away. “I don’t know. It started before we moved his library to Kinoko Kingdom, but it’s only gotten worse since we did. He’ll disappear for weeks or even months at a time, coming back with a worse memory than before. He’s called me so many other names, and every time he returns it takes longer and longer for him to remember me again. I can tell he’s completely forgotten you, though. He would have at least acknowledged you looked familiar if he did remember, but he spoke about you like a stranger. He gave me a weird look when I called you Q.” “Oh.” How did that hurt more than his own fiancé calling him a murderer?

“Okay, where do you wanna go?” “What?” “I told you I’d let you go after I wrapped your leg. So where do you wanna go?” “Uh.. Kitchen, I guess.” Gently, he was scooped back up into the warm hands. “Anywhere in particular?” “Cabinet?” A strange look came over the fireborn’s face. “Up that high again? Aren’t you worried you’ll fall and get hurt worse?” “I was just gonna go to my base.” The silence that followed made him realize his error. “Your base?” “I, uh.. I’ve been living in your walls for a little bit. But I can move!” Sapnap huffed in response. “Yeah, you can move. Move out here so we can make sure you don’t get hurt again.” “That’ll just put me in more danger than before!” The other’s hands were getting hotter, he realized. He needed to reel it in lest he get burned for saying the wrong thing. “How?” “Because I’m fucking tiny compared to you? Because you could fucking kill me with one wrong move of your finger?” “Quackity, name one time I’ve ever put you or Karl in danger, size be damned. Besides, you can’t deny that it hurts knowing he doesn’t remember you. If you stay out here, he might start to again.” “And when he falsely remembers the El Rapids plan again and decides to fucking kill me?” “He won’t. I don’t think he’s got it in him anymore…” The avian wanted to retort, but he couldn’t even deny the fireborn’s words. Karl was a lot paler than he used to be, hair a lot wilder than before and the bags under his eyes were too dark to be considered anything but what they were. His eyes had dulled significantly as well. A lot of the time he’s home he seemed to lazily do things, but now that Quackity thought on it, it made more sense that the man just didn’t have the same energy he used to. He also couldn’t deny that.. it hurt seeing the man like this.

“…Fine.” “Fine?” “I’ll.. stay out here. The second I’m put in danger because of him I’m back in those fucking walls and leaving, understand?” “Yeah, I understand.” Sapnap breathed, as if he didn’t believe the other would agree to it. “Will Karl?” “I’ll make sure he does. Is it too early to see him?” A frown tugged at his lips, and he sighed. “Yea, but I can’t really stop you from seeing him. You two are still fiancés, don’t let me come in between that.” “You’re our fiancé too.” He didn’t offer a response, only sinking further into his hands. The sigh he received back was nothing short of dejected, but there was no way he could just forgive and forget what they’d done to him. He started moving, and Quackity knew he was heading to the brunette’s location. He shut his eyes, bracing for.. something to happen.

“You’re back!” “Yeah.” “How are you?” Karl had perked up when he walked in, smiling softly at the smaller. Eyes opening when he realized he’d been spoken to, Quackity chose not to say anything, memories of his last time speaking with the brunette flashing through his mind. “He’s okay, a bit shaken up but that’s to be expected. He’s gonna be staying with us, since he was previously living in the walls.” “Oh, okay! Do we need to get anything for him?” He had a bit of a dejected tone to his voice, but stayed cheerful regardless. “I dunno. What do you think you need, Q?” He shrugged, eyes not leaving the other on the couch. “Give me something to work with.” The fireborn groaned. “Well, how about a small bed? I bet we could make one for him! Actually, let me start on that, I’ve got spare fabric somewhere-“ he was rambling, already moving towards the stairs to start on the project. Another pang hit his heart, he remembered the excitement his fiancé -ex-fiancé- used to emit all the time. Sapnap seemed to share the sentiment, as he gave a sad smile in the direction the other had ran off to.

“You hungry?” His attention was back on the smaller, who shook his head. “No, not really.” “Thirsty?” “Nope.” “Quackity-“ “What do you want me to say? I’m not.” “Something. You never acted this closed off before..” he trailed off, but it had been too late. Something snapped in the avian’s brain, and his mouth began to move before he realized it. “Before Karl told you to ban me? Before he called me a murderer and told me we had no history together? Before you all fucking abandoned me in El Rapids alone after Techno rammed a fucking pickaxe through my face!?” “We didn’t mean-“ “Yeah, didn’t mean to. I only found out after Kinoko was already finished and from George of all people.” “Well, in our defense you already made-“ “You all didn’t make Kinoko Kingdom for us, just you all. I made Las Nevadas for us, only to find out you all didn’t even bother-“ “Enough, Quackity. That was not our fucking intention and you goddamn know it.”

His hands had gotten uncomfortably warm, but Quackity didn’t care. He was tired of everyone disregarding his feelings about everything that transpired. “You sure knew how to fucking express that, right? I mean, if Karl forgot completely then I might forgive him but you don’t have memory issues. Tell me, did you even fucking look for me after I died that-“ “YES!” His fingertips caught fire, and the yell itself made the avian flinch harshly at both the heat and the shout, ashamed to feel tears building up in his good eye.

He was supposed to be the fiancé I could trust.

His body shaking took the warmth out of his holder’s fingers entirely, and if he were in a better mental state at that moment he’d see the horror and regret etched across the fireborn’s face. As it were, he hugged his knees to his chest and hid his face to try and save what little dignity he had left. “Qua-“ “Don’t.” “Please, did I burn you?” It was the shakiness to his voice, the pure upset and regret he heard in his tone that made him look up. Unshed tears laid heavily on the other’s eyes, but he didn’t have it in him to disregard what just happened. “No. But you tried to.” “No, I didn’t mean- I’m sorry..” Before he could even respond to that, he was set down on the table, and Sapnap backed away several paces, giving him as much room as possible.

At that moment, Karl made a reappearance, freezing at the bottom of the stairs when he noticed how far away Sapnap was from the borrower. “Sapnap..?” He was observant, one had to be to survive the things he was thrown into. He saw the shakiness to his hands, the tears threatening to leave his eyes. Turning to the table got him nothing, but from how the man was curled up he could tell he was crying, or perhaps just shaking badly. “Did you..” “I can’t- I’m sorry… I’ll be back.” And then the door opened and slammed, making the borrower flinch again.

The brunette made certain his footfalls were audible as he slowly came to the table. “Hey, I’m sorry about him. He gets excited sometimes, and he doesn’t have a good grasp on his pyrokinesis. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Uh.. I finished your bed! I’ll set it down, and get you something to snack on, okay?” He didn’t get a response, but he hadn’t expected one. He made sure to set the bed away from him as to not scare him more, and slowly went to the kitchen.

Pulling out his communicator, he sent Sapnap a quick message before getting an apple out and cutting it into small cubes.

-I’m sleeping at George’s tonight. Let me know if I need to take him with me.

A notification popped up as he filled the smallest container he could find with water.

No, I’ve calmed down. I’m so sorry, Karl.

-Don’t apologize to me. You didn’t hurt me.

He did not get another notification as he brought everything into the living room, seeing that the borrower had not moved from his spot. “Hey, I have to get going. I’m staying at a friend’s for the night, but I brought you some water and some cut up apple pieces. I’ll leave them on the table. Sapnap should be back, but I don’t know when. Just.. try to be open minded about him, okay? He didn’t mean to. And I bet you when he returns you’ll get a million and one apologies too.” Without a response, his smile wilted. “And please stay on the table. I don’t want you to try and get down and hurt yourself. Sapnap will help you when he comes back, okay? ….Have a good night..” Trying not to let himself get too dejected, he took his leave, willing the situation to the back of his mind as he walked to George’s house.

When Sapnap returned, half of the apple pieces had been eaten, along with a good amount of water, and the borrower himself was tucked into the bed. It seemed that his new distrust of the fireborn made him trust Karl, and while it was progress, it felt like a dagger straight to his heart. Shutting the light off in the living room, he moved to lay on the couch, not wanting to be in an empty bed again.

He tried to sleep, he really did, but.. too much weighed on his mind. After everything that had happened, why did he just fucking walk out like that!? He should have stayed, forced himself to calm down, show Quackity that he could trust them. But no, he took the cowards way out. His lips began to move before he even realized they had.

“I looked for you.” It was barely a whisper, but Quackity wasn’t going to respond after what happened. He made sure he didn’t give any sign of being awake. Despite that, the fireborn continued. Whether it was for the avian or for himself, Quackity couldn’t tell. “When I saw that death message, I searched all over L’Manburg, all over El Rapids- Tubbo stopped me and told me I couldn’t see you. He told me to stop, because you needed to heal. He told me that you told him to say that.” He.. had done that. After he saw how badly things went for Tubbo, he hadn’t wanted anyone to see the gruesome wound left on his face. Especially his own fiancés. “So I stopped, but I waited for you. I waited until Karl told us we couldn’t wait anymore, he made us leave. He said it wasn’t safe. But I fucking looked for you, Quackity. I didn’t- I don’t want to lose you. Tell me what I have to do, I promise it’ll happen. But please… don’t leave us again.”

The other had stopped speaking, but he could hear the muffled sobs from the couch. It took everything in him to not respond, his own tears falling down his face.

Oh, what had become of them all?

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #fear play #remember me my love #injury tw #fire tw