#(you can call me uncultured if you like but i refuse to consider it 'uncultured' to recognise Count Scarlioni in a Hollywood movie)

[nostalgia-tblr]

so anyway my bff visited earlier and we watched Salvage Hunters: The Restorers and one of the items in this episode was a sofa that had been in Doctor Who so obviously this caught my attention [ETA: I realise on re-reading that THIS is the point where the story headed into Sad Nerd Territory by most people's standards, not later on] and they went to a Dr Who shop in London(?) and they were trying to build up to this obviously exciting reveal and the shop guy said it was from the 70s and I went "Oh is it from Robots of Death?" and then yes it was from Robot of Death, I had correctly guessed which 1970s Dr Who seating was remarkable enough to make it onto fucking Salvage Hunters and I am sharing this because it left me both proud and ashamed and that's quite a confusing mix of emotions to have.

#tho this might be LESS sad that the time I recognised the BBC Radiophonics Workshop's noises in Quatermass and the Pit? #because that one starts with me watching Quatermass and the Pit (and it wasn't even the Hammer version!!! GASP!!) #i don't count “knowing actors solely from their dr who appearances” as that's just a normal part of everyday life for everyone #(you can call me uncultured if you like but i refuse to consider it 'uncultured' to recognise Count Scarlioni in a Hollywood movie) #(EVERYONE ON EARTH'S HEARD OF COUNT SCARLIONI) #dw

[t-h-i-n-g]

Hi! I saw you are taking request. I like the idea of Max is mad at reader (for the most stupid shit like reader misplaced Max's comics) so r does everything to make up for it and it end up in fluff.

Don’t Say Stupid Things

a/n: hi!! i stuck with the comic thing but didn't fully go off of what you asked. i hope that's okay!!

word count: 1k

summary: max is passionate about very few things. but when someone disrespects them she'll let them know they are in the wrong. someone is you. you are someone.

warnings: not rlly proof read thats really it, but if there are any more let me know!!

st - masterlist m.masterlist

-----------

This was stupid.

She knew that. You knew that. She knew you knew that but Max is stubborn. So what did you expect? Really, I mean how else would you think she would react besides completely ghosting you?

You should never have called her comics dumb. You know that now. Owning almost a hundred dollars (from almost half the money that you gifted her for presents on holidays) worth of slimy paper.

Sure they were fine, but it felt like an obsession at this point. The shelves upon shelves that filled Max’s room and the fact one was always shoved in her backpack was just too much. Sure it was a lot, but you should have never called it dumb. Dumb wasn't the right word. Crazed maybe but you should never have called them dumb.

But also you knew you didn’t deserve this much torment. Max gets sensitive sometimes. It just comes in her list of warnings when you get her. Sensitivity is nothing to be ashamed of. Of course, it isn't. However when it’s mixed with the amount of stubbornness that girl holds in her body you better be ready for the wrath of Mayfield.

Such as now. You are currently facing the torture of being ignored. It has been a week since you last talked to her and she wasn’t letting up. Max has made it very evident she found your opinions invalid and has taken the belief that you were just the most uncultured being to ever walk this earth.

But if “the most uncultured being to ever walk this earth is what she wanted your name to be now, you sure as well were going to change it. Anything for her. I mean duh, she’s your girlfriend… You think she’s still your girlfriend at least. There hasn’t been an official break up so till then she is still the love of your life.

Flashing back to now. The present, where you currently stood in the comic store. Staring blankly at the many racks without a clue of what to do. The chocolates and giant stuff bear that you left on her porch because she refused to open the door even though you clearly saw her walk into her house before you arrived. The only reason you didn’t camp out there was that her step-brother threatened to stuff you into the bear if you didn’t quote-unquote ‘Can it and the hell off of his property.’” Jokes on him. He’s not the house owner and Max’s mom loved you which means nobody would be stuffing you in a bear either way but he still looked like he was honestly considering it from the look in his eye. So yeah, the gifts were abandoned.

Now, plan B was better but less effective. Following Max around like a lost puppy between periods and begging for forgiveness during school seemed like a reasonable choice. Even if in the end she just acted like you were nonexistent

Plan C of her mom letting you in and you barging into her room didn’t work

Plan D was just begging her and practically crying at her feet.

Maybe you did look absolutely stupid and look like such a dumb ass but the quirk of her lip from your whiny pleas showed it was worth it. All those steps lead you to plan E. Where you now were buying the most limited edition comic book in the store. That you could afford of course. 

Stepping out of the store without 50 dollars felt like you had sold your soul. It would be worth it in the end though. Right? Anything for Max.

Standing once more on her front steps you didn’t know if your judgment was right. Billy had answered the door and you gave him an uneasy smile when he didn’t say anything to you and instead just turned around to yell into the house to call Max.

She then met you at the door with an unreadable expression. Her pretty face relaxed but her eyes held all that fire you missed oh so much.

“I never should have said what I did,” you blurted out, pulling out the pages from your bag and handing it out to her. “Collecting and reading comics is a passion of yours and I shouldn’t have disrespected it.” Uneasily Max took the comic from your hands. Her eyes widened as she realized what was in her hold.

“Is this the CGC Wolverine series?” She asked. The first words she said to you that wasn’t non-verbal or yelling at you. Rubbing your neck you shrugged.

“If that’s what it says.” She snapped her eyes back up to you.

“This is like almost 60 bucks,” Max stated.

“Well looks like I got a bargain then. The store sold it for 50.” Somehow her eyes grew wider.

“What the hell, Y/N. Why would you spend that much? You have just come over and hand me a fricken Wonder Woman and I would’ve been happy.”

“Like I said I shouldn’t have said what I did. If comics are what makes you happy, then I’m happy with getting you that.” Silence filled the space between you as Max found the words to respond. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Unless if you don’t like it. Then I came to return it,” you teased. Frantically she shook her head.

“No, no. It’s great. Awesome, actually,” she laughed breathlessly. Bringing her arms up, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders. Instinctively you followed her actions, leaning into her embrace.

“Sorry again,” you hummed.

“I forgive you,” she responded, her voice muffled by your shirt. Sighing you rubbed her back gently. You missed her warmth.

“Just don’t add that to the dumpster like the bear, alright? That was one thing that was another.” 

Max physically winced against you. 

“How’d you know?” You let out a hearty laugh.

“Steve drove by and pointed it out. Not that it matters to me much anyway. He was the one that bought it and said it would work.”

#stranger things x reader #max mayfield x you #max mayfield x y/n #max mayfeild #max mayfield x reader

[bigskydreaming]

Hello, hello, tis I, your friendly neighborhood ‘dude who is obsessed with people making jokes and insults out of Dick’s name’ back with another episode of Why No But Seriously Why!

In today’s episode, we’re going to focus on the fanon of the swear jar. That thing ordained by Alfred that makes many an appearance in fics and headcanons....including ones that also show Jason and/or others calling Dick a Dickhead and other things all willy nilly and suchlike and forthwith.

How does this track, asketh I? Does Alfred provide exemption clauses for making fun of your brother, to the others? Does Alfred not consider making crude insults out of the name Dick to be a swear? Does Alfred, a born Brit, hailing from the land of the “We’ve Been Calling Richards ‘Dicks’ For Longer Than The Rest Of You Have Been Calling Them Rich’s,” not consider the fascination with making penis jokes out of the name of a child he’s helped raised from the age of EIGHT to be uncultured, crass and frankly unacceptable in any house he resides in?

I’m just saying, does it really make sense, and is the risk of pulling readers out of your story if they’re NOT amused by the jokes made of his name really worth whatever it is you feel is added to a story BY making the same old jokes about Dick’s name?

As I’ve said many times before....Dick Grayson? Fictional character. Has no feelings that actually need protecting....OUTSIDE of fiction. Making jokes about his name from beyond the fourth wall, just people commenting on a fictional character’s name? Go wild, go crazy, have a freaking Bacchanalia. Truly does not matter, if you ask me.

But IN universe? IN fiction? Totally different story, because look what those jokes require or make assumptions out of:

1) That Dick truly has no protective or defensive feelings whatsoever about his childhood nickname, and genuinely feels nothing about people habitually taking his choice to keep it as an invitation to insult or mock him.

1b) That Dick doesn’t in any way ever perceive peoples’ insistence on associating his name MORE with the insults and penis jokes than they do with it just being a name, to in any way be a slight against his beloved parents, of the “well they should have known better than to call him that” variety.

1c) That Dick has no negative feelings whatsoever about the fact that even his close friends and family regard his name as being no more worthy of respect or being ‘offlimits’ than the average Gothammite or public citizen might regard it, despite the fact that his close friends and family are perfectly aware of the public’s history of looking down on Dick for his origins and thus you’d think would WANT to appear different than them in Dick’s eyes.

1d) That Dick has never at any point expressed anger, frustration or bitterness that he can’t even have his name respected without even loved ones superimposing their own associations on top of it, no matter what it means to HIM.

2) That Alfred truly has no opinions whatsoever of the other charges in his care disrespecting Dick’s name and its origins stemming from his first parents.

2b) That Alfred has never expressed this opinion to any of them or made his displeasure about such jokes known.

2c) That Alfred doesn’t find it disappointing that the rest of the family and associated friends and allies seem disinclined to separate themselves from the general public’s opinions of Dick’s name by regarding it with a little more respect as at least a sign that they regard Dick himself with a little more respect than the general public.

3) That Jason or none of Dick’s other friends or family have never taken the initiative to wonder for themselves how Dick might actually feel about the frequent jokes or insults, and if shockingly, he might not actually be fond of them.

3b) That Jason or Dick’s other friends or family have chosen not to care or respect the opinions of Dick and/or Alfred or anyone else who states or suggests that these jokes or insults aren’t welcome.

4) That none of Dick’s other friends, be they Titans, or Uncle Clark, or siblings like Cass or Damian or frankly anyone, ever speak up in defense of Dick’s name and suggest that there’s a significant lack of respect around it and thus around him, that they personally take a very dim view of. (Even when Jason’s best friends include Dick’s former fianceé and own longtime BFF).

5) That nobody has ever bothered to think that only EVER being addressed by some form of insult by even his own siblings might possibly have a slightly demoralizing effect on someone’s self-esteem over time.

5b) That nobody has ever bothered to think that making sexual jokes about his name and thus innately sexualizing Dick from even his earliest days in Gotham, when coupled with the hyper-sexualized stereotypes people often apply to Romani individuals and further coupled with the suggestive rumors surrounding Bruce’s reasons for taking in a young boy, might possibly have contributed over time to Dick having an extremely skewed view of himself as an innately sexualized being no matter what he actually did in terms of sexual behavior.

I mean.....there’s more. If I felt like it.

But the point is......there’s a LOT of implicit assumptions that creep in alongside the seemingly harmless jokes and insults surrounding Dick’s name, the second you start to really focus in on how it might appear from his POV....IF you include even just the possibility that he DOESN’T like it.

EDIT: Also, lots of people have pointed out that its just sibling culture to make fun of a sibling in ways that you wouldn’t be okay with someone outside the family making the same jokes. And this is absolutely true! BUT. My issue here and why I don’t think the Dickhead jokes fall under this umbrella, is because I can say in my experience being from a blended family, and from what I’ve discussed in the past with other kids from blended families....there are ‘rules’ about this sort of thing, when you have adopted siblings, and the one near-universal truth that I’ve always found is that anything that stems from an adopted sibling’s first family, the one you do NOT share with them, is absolutely off limits. You mock them for something that originated outside your family, you’re the asshole, because at that point, you’re literally no different from outsiders to your current family making fun of that sibling. That ‘joke’ is not YOURS to make or share in, if you do not have the history with the thing you’re basing the joke on, that your sibling has with it. Shared history is the entire basis of siblings being able to mock each other while still citing solidarity against outsiders, and in adopted families, there absolutely are elements of each others’ lives that YOU are the outsider to, and it absolutely falls on you to respect that just as you’d want your sibling to respect the same of you in turn. If Jason absolutely would not be okay with Dick or anyone else making jokes about Catherine or his life with her, he should not be okay with making jokes about Dick’s name, circus origins, or other aspects of his life that stem from or call back to his time with his first family. The same holds true of all the others as well.

The other aspect of this name-calling not falling under the excuse-umbrella of just being typical sibling culture is its entirely one-sided. Show me the tendency where Dick responds to these everpresent jokes or insults by even light-heartedly calling Jason and the others insults like Hey Asshole, or Dumbass or anything like that. When things are entirely one-way, the impression given is not that of a camaraderie of back-and-forth. It becomes just one person or multiple people punching down in a way they feel confident from experience the other person will NOT respond in kind, which gives them an outlet for venting frustration, resentment or aggravation which risks them nothing, because they KNOW Dick won’t retaliate, and at that point that exchange becomes something very different from a general sibling back-and-forth....because there’s no ‘back.’ What you end up with at that point is literally just hostility, no matter if more mild than other cases, and a situation where one sibling is simply taking ADVANTAGE of the opportunity afforded by another sibling’s good nature and refusal to engage in hurt feelings even while you feel free to cause those feelings in them. And that’s just not a good look. Its just not. And even if you find those exchanges humorous yourself as a writer or a reader, you might want to keep in mind that to plenty of other readers, its making even the characters you like and INTEND to be liked, just....come across as kinda not cool assholes instead.

END OF EDIT.

And here’s the other point:

Its not really about his name, and never has been.

His name is simply emblematic of how EASY it is for people to fall into the trap of just....choosing to overlook Dick’s POV entirely, the second its pitted against other characters and what they might gain from their POV....even if that ‘gain’ is as simple and basic as the slight moment of humor Jason gets from making a joke or mocking insult out of Dick’s name.

Here, let me present this another way:

Every single person alive has SOMETHING they get defensive or protective about. SOMETHING that they’re like no, this is offlimits to people, this is not for their consumption, their entertainment, its not for THEM to take and twist into something other than what it is for ME, because its MINE. This is basic human nature. EVERYONE has this feeling about SOMETHING that’s particular to them.

And with Dick, most of the things that we’re generally given to view him being protective or defensive about are either almost more about other people than him - such as being protective of his family members - or else, they’re things that he’s not ALLOWED to be purely defensive or say, territorial about.

Like for instance, the name Robin.

Think about how Robin is pretty much one of the ONLY things Dick is largely deemed to be defensive or proprietary about.....BUT how that’s also largely used NOT to have him wholly in the right for feeling that way.....but to put him in conflict with the other Robins, given that they also have strong feelings about the name regardless of its origins, and its not solely Dick’s anymore.

Now here’s my question:

If for example, you go with the take that Robin was Dick’s mother’s name for him, and that’s why Dick is so protective and defensive of that name.....why would he be any LESS protective or defensive about his mother AND father’s OTHER name for him....given that the only possible reason for him TO stick with the name Dick all throughout adulthood, is that its the form of his name they referred to him by, and thus, clearly, it DOES carry emotional significance for him?

See what I’m saying?

Why is it, that the only time so many people see Dick laying a claim to something, being defensive or protective of something that’s HIS, standing up for HIMSELF.....is when the waters are murky, when its not a clear cut case of him being wholly in the right, when it pits Dick against someone else and says both are at least somewhat valid?

Why is it so RARE to see people imagine Dick putting his foot down in defense of himself, in defense of something that’s HIS.....where its 100% crystal clear that he has every right and reason in the world to feel this way, where there’s no doubt whatsoever that he’s on the correct side of thinking “this is mine and I get to say this”?

Even about something as simple and basic as his own name?

And why is it the only time we seem to see people sticking up for Dick or weighing in on his behalf, its in the case of extreme actions like him having been raped or abused? Why are there hardly any stories of people looking at alleged family and friends bitching about Dick or heaping insults on him or his capabilities and saying hey, he’s been doing this while most of us were sitting in middle school detention, you could show him some respect? Why do none of the people who value and respect Dick so highly ever seem to weigh in like THAT in stories?

My challenge, should you choose to accept it, is just to look at the above list of possible reasons why Dick might not be thrilled about how people use his name....and just IMAGINE what it would look like, if Dick just said to another character....”Hey. Could you cut that out. I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that.” Even just “I really don’t like that.”

How does a scene like that go? One where Dick is wholly and completely justified in putting his foot down, in feeling that someone is overstepping or paying him an insult or a disservice?

We hear all the time in fandom about how in the name of ‘humanizing’ Dick and ‘making him more relatable’ some people focus overly much on emphasizing his flaws, his alleged temper, his secretiveness, etc.

I’d like to argue that flaws are not actually the only staple of humanity. Risking making a character more dislikable is not actually the only way to make them feel more human or relatable. THIS is another way to do that. Make them defensive, proprietary, territorial, even prickly.....but with REASON. With CAUSE. With JUSTIFICATION. Because people are ALLOWED to be, when people are being a - all irony intended - total dick to them.

And there is a long, LONG history in fanfics, of people being exactly that to Dick, and him just....smiling.

EXCEPT for when his choice NOT to smile, and to actually take offense and push back......pits him against another character but with the other character usually being granted just as much right and reason to not give way.

So? I’m saying you have right here a perfect example of how to flip the script on that. To make it abundantly clear that Dick has just as much right to put his foot down with even people who love and care about him and say hey, you’re doing something I don’t like, that in fact even hurts me, and I want you to stop.

Why not use it? Why does there always seem to need to be an ARGUMENT about whether or not Dick is in the right to feel wronged in some way.....when its so abundantly clear that he’s given no shortage of reasons for that in practically every other fic?

And consider.....if you’ve never previously entertained the idea that Dick might take offense to how people treat his name, or feel defensive about it......what else might you be overlooking that he could feel that way about, and is there any reason why you think you tend not to view Dick as being defensive of HIMSELF and things that are uniquely his?

*Shrugs* Just food for thought, mayhaps.

[honey-dewey]

Target Practice

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 2,085

Warnings: Mentions of injury (The reader has a bad knee), drinking, and it gets spicy near the end. 

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

After noticing he’s falling out of touch with the ladies, Ginger sets Jack up with a bit of target practice. He thinks it’s stupid, right up until he sees his target. You very much didn’t want to be here, right up until you figured out who was going to be attempting to woo you. 

“Just give it a try!” Ginger insisted. “It’ll do you good to have some practice, I promise.” 

Jack scoffed. “I don’t need practice to bed someone,” he said. “I can use my Tennessee charm.” 

Ginger crossed her arms. “Your charm won’t last forever!” She said strongly. “Your latest mission lasted half an hour longer than it should have because you couldn’t seduce one woman! And you almost didn’t succeed at all!” 

“And?” Jack countered. “That was a screw up. I’m not everyone’s type. I don’t need target practice or whatever you’re insisting on.” 

Ginger raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to take this all the way to Champ, because I will.” 

Jack sighed, leaning over his desk. “Fine. Fuck it, fine. Do whatever.” 

Half an hour later, Ginger was calling Jack down to the saloon. You stood by her side, absently waiting. 

“I doubt he’ll show up,” you said once she’d hung up. “Worked with him once, and once may have been enough.” 

Ginger snorted. “That sounds like Jack,” she said. “You know what you have to do?” 

You nodded, heading over to the bar. Leaning over, you ordered a drink, just a small one, so you wouldn’t be too drunk for this, despite how tempting it was. Your last mission with Whiskey had ended up with you in the hospital with a bullet through your knee, and you hadn’t exactly been keen on working with him again after that. So he’d been dropped as your mission partner, and you two hadn’t talked since. You didn’t hate him, you just had unresolved and highly complicated feelings about him. Mostly the very well-buried crush that persisted even after you two had stopped talking, but you could hide that, right?

Meanwhile, at the saloon’s entrance, Jack was talking to Ginger. 

“And I just go in there and flirt?” 

Ginger nodded. “Try to bed them. For this mission, we need a tracker. You don’t actually have to fuck, but get them into bed and willing.” 

Jack looked towards the doors. “And just who is my lovely victim?” 

Ginger pushed open the saloon doors. “Your old partner, Agent Bourbon.” 

You smiled and took a sip of your drink, ignoring Jack, as per Ginger’s instructions. 

“You have your mission,” you heard her say softly. “Go.” 

Jack walked up to the bar, sliding into the barstool next to you. “Hey there pretty thing,” he said, looking at you. “What’s your name?” 

You turned. “Bourbon.” 

Jack’s damned smirk bloomed on his face. “Name yourself after your favorite drink?” 

You decided to play hard to get, but not impossible, smiling back at him and swirling around your drink. “Yes, actually. And let me guess, you’re a whiskey kind of man?” 

“How’d you possibly know?” Jack said, ordering a whiskey for himself. 

“Oh I don’t know,” you said sweetly. “Maybe the arrogance? The boldness? Whatever you call it. You’re cocky.” 

“And you’re feisty,” Jack countered. “Let me buy you a drink, and you can see just how cocky I can get.” 

You stood. “No thanks cowboy. See you around.” 

Jack immediately followed you, grabbing your arm. He wasn’t too firm, and you absolutely could’ve slipped out if you wanted to. “C’mon Bourbon. No drink, okay? You just seem like the kind of person I shouldn’t let go of.” 

You sighed, staring into his wide puppy eyes. “One drink,” you offered. “It’s on you.” 

Jack lit up, tugging you to a table where you could sit facing him. You smiled, the small grin coming out involuntarily at his eagerness. 

“So,” Jack said once you two were sat back down. “Who are you? Under that hat and that attitude, what’s the real Bourbon like?” 

You laughed slightly. “I am many things,” you said, tangling your feet with his. “I think you said I was feisty?”

“Oh definitely,” Jack drawled. “But I believe I saw a limp in your step. Surely an injury of that caliber has a very unique story.” 

“Oh? An injury of that caliber? Very fancy.” You swung your injured leg around, feeling the deep ache in your knee. “It’s a story. Not a kind one.” 

Jack smiled. “Well. A story, even a bad one, shows character.” 

“Hm.” You pretended to consider. “Well, years ago, I had this work partner. Kind of a dick, but he was nice, and we got along. However, he got distracted and I got shot on a work mission. Bullet shattered my kneecap, but my work was able to patch me up well enough. Now, I’ve got a limp.” 

Jack was quiet. “Wow. Your partner sounds like a jerk.” 

“Not really,” you hummed, swirling your glass around and watching the last few sips of bourbon sparkle in the light. “He’s just a bit distracted, that’s all.” 

You and Jack talked for a while, you genuinely enjoying the time you spent together. The mission slipped your mind entirely, until Ginger stepped in of course. 

“Are we focusing?” She asked, standing by your table. 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said, knocking back the last of his drink. “Entirely focused. Bourbon’s just playing really hard to get.” 

You laughed. “Whiskey’s completely forgotten this entire exercise,” you admitted. “But so have I.” 

“Okay,” Ginger said slowly, looking at her clipboard. “Good enough. You’re both dismissed from this.” 

“Thanks,” you said, not bothering to move. “Jack? Wanna stay? Finish our drinks?” 

Jack smiled. “Of course Darlin’.” 

You and Jack continued to drink, light banter flowing as easily as the drinks. You were comfortable, injured leg propped up on Jack’s thigh. He didn’t mind, actually encouraging it when you grumbled that the damn thing was bothering you. 

“I truly am sorry about it,” he said at some point, absently rubbing away the worst of the pain in your leg. “Shouldn’t’ve ever happened.” 

“Builds character,” you pointed out. “How many times have you been fatally injured?” 

“Seven.” 

You nodded. “Must be why you’re such a character. Horrible injuries are good for forming a personality.” 

Jack chuckled. “C’mon Bourbon, let’s go somewhere more comfortable.” 

You and him ended up in his office, sprawled on his couch. You refused another drink, and giggled when Jack made himself a Shirley Temple. 

“There’s no alcohol in that,” you pointed out. “Make me one?” 

Jack snorted, fixing you a drink and putting multiple cherries in the bottom. “No, but it’s damn good.” He handed you your drink, and you smiled. 

The night passed in a blur of cherries and laughter, and before you knew it, you were standing up to leave. 

“I’m sure we’ll see each other tomorrow,” Jack said, walking you to the parking lot. 

You nodded. “I’m sure we will.” 

The next day, Ginger called you and Jack down to the bar again, as you expected. This time, you actually had to try, according to her, to resist Jack’s advances. Deciding that wouldn’t be too hard as long as you kept your composure, you sat at the bar and waited. 

Jack came up to you with a cheesy pick up line and that beautiful, irresistible grin again. This time, you simply scooted away from him. 

“Aw, c’mon doll, don’t play like that,” he drawled. “I promise I don’t bite.” 

“No, but I do.” You turned in your seat, glaring Jack down. “So you best be leaving now, Cowboy. Find someone who actually likes that stupid charade you’ve got going on before I hurt you.” 

Jack whistled as you stood and left the bar, joining two other agents, Mojito and Margarita. Both knew the job and the character you were playing, and Mojito gave you a sympathy pat on the back. 

“Look, he’s a dick!” Margarita said, gesturing with her drink. “Tryin’ to pick you up like that. It’s uncultured and downright rude. Least a man can do is have some manners when he tries to take you to bed.” 

“How big do you think he is?” Mojito asked eagerly, clearly committing to the part of your slightly drunk best friend. 

Margarita snorted. “With an attitude like that? Damn honey, he’s probably tiny! Compensation is real.” 

“Okay!” You said, waving your hands. Act or not, Jack was a dear friend, and talking about his dick made you uncomfortable. “How about one more drink and then we can go?” 

Both agreed, and you ordered another round of drinks for the table. Jack was still at the bar, occasionally looking over. 

“Manners be damned,” Mojito said after a minute. “He’s cute.” 

“‘Jito!” You said. “He’s almost forty five!” 

“Doesn’t mean he can’t be cute,” Mojito pointed out, taking a sip of her drink. 

Margarita laughed, then perked up as ‘Take me Home, Country Roads’ started to play. “Oh my goodness! It’s our song!” 

“No,” you corrected, seeing Margarita make to stand. “It’s your song.” 

Truthfully, the song was a staple at Statesman. You knew every word, and damn if it didn’t make you want to get up and dance. 

“You said one drink!” Margarita pointed out. “Well I want one dance, then yes, we can go home.” 

You sighed. “Fine. Gives me a chance to stretch my fucking knee anyway.” 

Standing and following Mojito and Margarita to the dance floor, you swayed to the music. Other agents, mostly on their breaks, filtered around you, singing and dancing. Margarita was almost immediately swept away by her boyfriend, Amaretto, waving to you as she disappeared. Mojito stayed and held your hands, swaying with you. She laughed when you stumbled over your own two feet, cursing violently. “Very mature!” 

“Oh hush!” You said back, a grin filling your features. “Like you’re any better.” 

Mojito giggled her agreement, talking above the music that she has to use the bathroom before you go. She left you alone on the dance floor, still swaying. You lost yourself in the music, allowing it to wash over you. You got so absorbed that you didn’t realize your knee was giving out until it buckled, sending you toppling to the floor. 

At least, that’s what should’ve happened. Instead, a strong set of arms caught you, holding you above the ground. Looking up, you saw a familiar black cowboy hat haloed by light. “My savior,” you said, gripping Jack’s shirt in an effort to right yourself. “Do you do this often?” 

“Often?” Jack asked, helping you upright. “No, I wouldn’t say I save the prettiest thing at the bar from falling flat on their ass often.” 

You snorted, checking yourself over for wet spots caused by your drink. “Mhm. My knight in shining armor.” 

Jack smirked. “Song’s not over,” he said. “Dance with me?” 

Sighing, you reluctantly agreed. “Only because you saved me.” 

His confident smirk fell away into a genuinely happy grin. “Perfect.” He took your hands, swaying side to side. You copied him, your false exterior falling away as you danced. 

“How do you think we’re doing?” He asked, leaning closer so you could hear him over the music. 

“Ginger definitely won’t be mad this time,” you decided, hearing the music finish out. “Okay cowboy,” you said, putting the act back on. “One dance, that was the agreement.” 

Jack pouted, his slightly goofy smile remaining. “But darlin’, we were having so much fun.” 

You spotted Mojito across the bar, nodding and giving you a thumbs up. “And just what do you suggest we do, Cowboy?” 

“Call me Jack, please,” Jack said. “And I am suggesting that we take our little two man dance party to a more private locale. What do you say?” 

Giggling at his words, you nodded. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

Jack led you upstairs, where the bar did, in fact, have bedrooms. He opened one and locked the door behind him, grabbing your hips and leading you to the bed. “You sure you’re up for this?” 

“Kiss me,” you growled into his lips, the act lost. You gripped his shirt, pulling him flush to your body. “Dammit Jack, it’s been years. Just kiss me.” 

He did much more than kiss you, his touch white hot against your skin. He left a very noticeable mark on the side of your neck, along with more private ones in other areas. When he was finally done wrecking you, he lay back against the sheets, pulling you close. “Bourbon? How’s your knee?” 

“Shh,” you mumbled, eyes closed. “Knee’s fine. Think Ginger’ll be pleased?” 

Jack grinned, kissing your forehead. “If she ain’t, I am more than happy to do it again.” 

You laughed slightly, turning over in Jack’s arms so you were more comfortable. “Me too.”

#kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

[sanjisock]

keep playing that song (hey mister dj)

ao3

Usopp isn’t scared.

The stranger might be a tall, burly dude with one eye, two large scars, and muscles that could rival a god’s, but Usopp is not scared. Nope. Sure, the guy could probably crush Usopp’s head if he does so much as flex , and the scars seem to indicate that he’s trained in some kind of deadly martial arts, and even without all those things he’s still big enough to be able to beat Usopp up into a pulp through sheer strength, and —

Okay, so Usopp might be a little scared.

But it’s not his fault, okay! Who can blame him for being scared when their usual hangout place-slash-music studio is suddenly occupied by such a scary-looking man! Scars, green hair (is that natural color ?), earrings…all signs seem to point to him being a delinquent, if not a yakuza . And on top of that — are those swords lying on top of him? Real swords? Three of them?

The only saving grace of it all is the fact that the man is sleeping soundly, so it’s unlikely that he could kill Usopp right now. Maybe. Usopp isn’t ruling out the possibility that the man could identify weaker life forces in his sleep and eliminate them accordingly, Drunken Master-style.

Usopp yelps when the door to the studio swings open.

“Yohoho, you’re here early, Usopp!” Brook greets with a wave and, completely unperturbed by the existence of the Scary Green Man, makes his way to his guitar. The others start filing in behind Brook one by one, chatting among themselves.

“All right, I’m going to get started over here,” Sanji announces to the group as he starts plugging things up onto his booth, before pointing at the keyboard. “Oi, Usopp, those keys aren’t going to play themselves.”

Okay, so they are not acknowledging this.

Okay. Usopp’s fine with that. Usopp’s good with that. He knows all the wise words like let sleeping dogs lie — or, in this case, let green-haired men with visible battle scars and three swords lie so nobody (read: Usopp) gets maimed and/or fatally injured. He can work with that, sure.

The session starts, and it does get easier to ignore the man when you’re enjoying the music. Before Usopp realizes, they’ve been playing for a couple of hours, made plans for the next jam sessions, and bid their goodbyes. He’s three blocks away on his bicycle before the whole thing dawns on him.

Who the hell was that man?

 -

 When Usopp opens the door to the studio, the green-haired man is still sleeping on the couch.

Usopp closes the door again.

All right. Back up. It’s been a week since their last jam session, but somehow the man is still there. Usopp is a smart, rational man — he can work this out.

Option one: the man is a homeless man who somehow has found his way to the studio and started living there. Possibly dangerous, but enough grounds to call the cops. This, however, doesn’t explain why no one seems to be aware of the man’s existence, which leads to the other possibility —

Option two: the man is actually a ghost haunting the studio and Usopp, being the amazing and attentive man that he is, is the only person who could see him, and now he has to find a way for the ghost to move on or he will drag Usopp down to hell with him.

Usopp laughs at his own idea, opens the door again, just as Sanji drops onto the sofa, right beside the man’s head, all-too-close and completely oblivious to the proximity.

Option two, it is.

Usopp is mentally chanting some exorcism spells in his head when Sanji suddenly calls out, “you’re just going to stand around there or what?”

“Ah, right, was just, checking some texts on my phone,” he replies, half-rambling, hoping Sanji would buy some of the lies he’s selling. He quickly scrambles towards the keyboard. “Just gonna practice some variations first before we start.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for the others to come in before setting up,” Sanji says, half-distracted by the book he’s currently reading. If he notices that Usopp is more on edge than usual, he doesn’t point it out, and simply returns to his book.

Usopp takes the opportunity to make some observations.

The situation is downright baffling , because Sanji, generally, is not a tactile person. That’s more of Luffy’s thing — throwing his limbs all over his friends and wrapping them in hugs like a monkey would to a tree. Sanji generally keeps his distance, even with friends, and especially male ones.

But right now, Sanji somehow looks completely comfortable beside the green-haired man, despite the closeness. His shoulders are slumped comfortably against the backrest, with only one hand holding the book — his other hand rests on the empty spot near the man’s head, and Usopp thinks he’s started hallucinating, because — are those fingers absentmindedly playing with the man’s hair?

Men-are-lowly-creatures Sanji? Playing with another man’s hair?

Usopp is beginning to question his own sanity.

 -

 Usopp swears he is cursed, because how else could he find himself in a room with the man. Again. With no one else around.

And because the universe hates him, the man suddenly snorts, yawns, and blinks awake.

Usopp has half the mind to run out of the room, and doesn’t do it only because he’s pretty sure the man is like a wild beast that can sense fear. Instead he stays rooted to his spot as the man blearily looks around before finally noticing Usopp’s presence.

Their eyes meet. The man blinks again, before frowning. “Who are you?”  

“That’s my question,” Usopp wants to yell at the top of his lungs, which he does, except it’s more of a whisper, and he’s also jumping behind the DJ table. Just in case. “Wait, you can see me?”

The man continues to frown at him. “Why can’t I?”

“You’re alive,” Usopp can’t help pointing out instead.

“...Yeah?” The man looks like he’s questioning Usopp’s mental health, but he also doesn’t look like he’s going to stab anyone anytime soon, so Usopp considers this a win. The man runs his hand through his hair. “Look, I assume you know the Cook.”

The Cook. There can only be one person in their group that fits the nickname. “Sanji. Yeah,” Usopp quickly says, “I’m Sanji’s friend. Also in the band. The name’s Usopp, by the way.”

“Heard ‘bout you. I’m Zoro,” the man — Zoro — introduces himself. And — doesn’t elaborate.

“Right,” Usopp responds, mostly to fill in the silence, “you, uh, you know Sanji?”

It seems like the natural direction for the conversation to take, but it earns him another look from Zoro. “Seriously? The Cook never…” he pauses, before groaning. “Of course he hasn’t. Bet he’s told you more about Nami than he does about me, huh.”

Usopp knows Nami — she’s a friend from Sanji’s university, and sometimes she’d drop by and help with the band’s finances. Zoro, on the other hand... “Look, I’m sorry, man, but all I know is that you’re this guy who started coming into our practice sessions and slept throughout the whole thing.”

“Because it’s boring as hell, that’s why,” Zoro says, before quickly adding, “no offense.”

“None taken, I know it’s not everyone’s thing. Although —” Usopp gulps, wonders if the question is appropriate, but curiosity got the best of him. “If it’s boring to you, why are you here?”

Zoro surprisingly blushes at that. He rubs the back of his neck in a shocking display of embarrassment. “Well, don’t tell him this, but —” he clears his throat, clearly flustered, before mumbling, “the Shit Cook said he’d be happy if I come and support and shit like that.”

“Come and support,” Usopp echoes, brain refusing to work. “Sanji wants you to... come and support him.”

“Yeah, you know,” Zoro says. “As his boyfriend.”

Usopp chokes on air at that. The ghost theory would’ve made so much more sense. Really .

 -

 “I wish I could’ve seen your face,” Sanji says in between peals of laughter, “you really thought this Mosshead was a ghost ?”

“It seems to be the most plausible explanation at the time, okay,” Usopp retorts, indignant. In his defense, it would be less surprising than this whole... boyfriend thing.

It’s not like Usopp has a problem with his male friend getting a boyfriend — god, no, not that. But this is Sanji . Woman-loving, romance-obsessed Sanji, who wouldn’t shut up about how it is a gentleman’s duty to take good care of ladies, or how women are so much more beautiful than gross, uncultured men.

That very same Sanji is currently sitting with Zoro’s arm around his back, his head resting comfortably on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro’s hand is in Sanji’s hair, the gesture familiar, and Sanji clearly preens under the attention like a cat.

“Sorry, I forgot you weren’t there during Nami’s birthday,” Sanji says after he’s finally done laughing, “that’s when I first brought Zoro to meet the band.”

“Wait. Nami’s birthday?” The timeline doesn't add up — “Oh my god, Sanji, that was six months ago .”

Sanji shrugs, “yeah, my bad, I just kinda assumed everyone knew after that.”

Usopp is reeling from it all, because it’s just one revelation after another — not only Sanji started dating a man, Zoro isn’t even some random fling; they might even be going steady . Something he hasn’t seen Sanji do since he was fifteen and got his heart broken by a girl Usopp can’t even remember the name of anymore.

It’s turning Usopp’s world upside down, except when it’s — not. He never considered the possibility before, but looking back, it makes perfect sense. Sanji, with all his self-sabotaging insecurities, would find comfort in Zoro, who is clearly a man of actions. Sweet nothings would’ve done nothing to Sanji, but Zoro, who comes in to his boyfriend’s band practices despite his lack of interest, just because it’d make Sanji happy...Usopp can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Oi, what are you grinning for, Long Nose,” Sanji points out. “That’s creepy.”

“Nah, I was just thinking how sweet it is that Zoro would come to our band practices to support you,” Usopp answers without thinking. “He told me he got bored by it, but he still comes in because you want him to.”

Usopp watches the two men in front of him blush simultaneously at his words as Sanji disentangles himself from Zoro’s arm and sits up straighter. “What? The Marimo told you that?”

“I told you not to tell him!” Zoro growls, and looks away when Sanji turns to him with wide eyes. He buries his face in his hand, but even Usopp can see the blush reach the tips of Zoro’s ears. Sanji beams at the sight, and Usopp has never seen him so happy.

It’s sweet, and Usopp is happy for Sanji, but he still doesn’t want them to start making out here, ew, so he clears his throat.

Zoro and Sanji jump away from each other, clearly having forgotten about the only other person in the room. Sanji instantly scrambles to his feet and make his way to the DJ table, blabbering, “anyway, uh, I’m going to set things up, you just be a good boy and wait there as usual.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro says, plopping back into the sofa, but Usopp notices how Zoro doesn’t immediately go to sleep like usual. Instead, his gaze lands on Sanji.

Zoro doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who beams, but right now there’s one of those little smiles on his face, the kind that someone wears when they think no one is looking. It erases the hard lines on his face, and there’s a flash of something — soft , in the way his gaze clings onto Sanji’s back.

Zoro is not so scary after all.

#opfanfic #zosan #roronoa zoro #sanji #usopp #one piece #based on color spread 981

[aph-honk-kong]

Fanged and Fair

When two equally-matched beings meet up for afternoon tea. [There’s really heavy making out please proceed with caution]

   A fairy does not only invite one over for tea. 

  There is always an ulterior motive, the hope that they may ensnare their unsuspecting guest and steal all that they have, or subject them to a fate even worse. There is no rejecting the invitation, either, especially if you are one of the night folk.

  When Aleksander finds the gilded card on his mantlepiece, sent by a fair one named Stellan, he is almost certain he will die. Many of the night folk who visit a fairy never return. But maybe he will change that. Maybe he will drain this fairy of his blood and plunge iron into his flesh, ridding the world of another of their kind. He will dodge the stakes and hide from the sun, and he will win.

  He dresses in preparation, hiding every inch of his skin with his ebony-black robes and covering his face with a veil. The sun cannot touch any inch of him if he plans to leave the fairy’s house alive.

  Just as an extra precaution, he slides an iron knife into one of his coat’s many pockets. One can never be too careful when dealing with fairies. 

  Aleksander reads up on the rules of etiquette while walking to Stellan’s house. If he violates even one of them, his fairy host is then allowed to punish him as he sees fit, which usually means killing him. He has salt in his pocket to counteract the effects of fairy food before it can magick away any rational thought.

  He arrives at Stellan’s house, a pretty little thing painted beige with a forget-me-not blue roof. The porch is trimmed with pots of hyacinth. Aleksander steels his nerves and knocks.

  The door swings open almost at once, revealing a young man too beautiful to be a killer. His sheer, pastel-blue blouse and shorts swirl as though in water, kept on his body only by the hyacinth blossoms around his wrists and ankles. Cornsilk hair falls into his eyes, and his blue-violet eyes are alight with dark glee. “Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon.” Aleksander bows, mustering a smile when the fairy bows back. “I take you’re Stellan?”

  “Yes, that is what you may call me.” Stellan holds out a hand. “May I have your name?”

  Many a night-folk has died here. They gave their true name to the fairy, and in the process gave their life away too. He will not fall for the same trick. “You may not. But you may refer to me as Aleksander.”

  The vibrant blue morpho wings on Stellan’s back flutter in agitation, but their owner shows nothing. “Very well. You may come in, Aleksander.”

  He dips his head in thanks before stepping over the doorway and into the house. The living room smells of lavender, and the furniture he can see is plain and pale. It certainly does not have the frivolous flamboyity that fae homes are usually known for.

  Stellan’s hands are on his shoulders before he knows it, finger drawing circles in the thick dark fabric. “May I take your coat?” 

  Aleksander glances back briefly; the fairy has a pretty silver ring on his fourth finger, one that’s far more beautiful than his own jewelled weapon. “No, thank you,” he responds. “It’s a bit chilly today, and I would rather not risk falling ill.”

  Those eyes, lined sultrily with silver ink, narrow. But he does not insist. “Please wait in the sitting room while I set the table.”

  How easy it would be, to lunge while Stellan’s back is turned. It would take no effort at all to pin him down, to drive his knife deep into his neck with the power that an explicit invitation gifts him. But he cannot. Not yet, at least.

  He goes to sit down at the soft sofa. The sitting room happens to have two ceiling-to-floor windows, and Aleksander is suddenly very grateful for his veil. He stares at the assortment of items on the tea-table, at books and needles and blocks of resin. They all look too normal to be owned by someone so wicked. 

  Stellan is humming, and he can be heard even beneath the sound of clinking cutlery. Aleksander reaches into his pocket and touches his knife for good luck.

  There is suddenly a soft fluttering of wings, and Stellan lands right behind him. “Tea is ready,” he announces in his soft, hypnotic voice.

  He follows him to the dining room, watching the soft, fluid sway of his hips. He follows this floaty, pretty fellow to the most dangerous meal of his life.

  The dining table, he observes, is set with a teapot, flower-painted teacups and a gilded, silver tea-tower. If it weren’t holding food with the ability to kill him, Aleksander would find it pretty.

   “I spent so much time preparing for this afternoon,” Stellan wisps. His gossamery clothes flutter in the gentle breeze, long sleeves flapping at him as though trying to reel him in. “I hope you will like the food.”

  He sits down in a chair the fairy pulls out for him, keeping his eyes trained on him. Stellan takes his seat across him and lifts up the teapot with long-fingered hands. “I brewed some rose tea for us today.” He pours Aleksander a cup. The cloying scent of the golden tea is nauseating. “The fae type, of course.”

   The fae’s inability to lie comes in handy again — now he knows he will need salt to counteract whatever effects the fae food has. But he cannot simply whip out the pouch of salt he has in his pocket, not when Stellan is watching with those mad periwinkle eyes. So Aleksander slips his hand into the pouch and takes a pinch, then nonchalantly passes his hand over his teacup while reaching for the sugar pot. The salt falls in, thankfully escaping his host's scrutiny.

   “Here.” Stellan places a canapé of sorts onto his plate. It is glistening with brown sauce; the puff pastry is glossy.

  “Thank you,” Aleksander says. He cannot sprinkle salt on the pastry where it will clearly be visible, so he goes for the next best thing. He casually picks up his teacup and saucer, wetting the tip of his index finger while he drinks the tea. It is heavy and bittersweet, and he’d be long-gone if not for the salt inside. He then slips his hand back inside the pouch and picks up a few grains of salt with his wet fingertip. The canapé goes down harmlessly.

   Stellan is watching him as he chews. Aleksander swallows and smiles behind his veil. “It is excellent.”

  “I am glad to hear that.” He retrieves a tart from the bottom layer and nibbles at it. “Please, take more.”

  To refuse would be a death sentence. Aleksander takes a dainty, cheese-filled choux pastry next, and wets his finger again under the guise of wiping his mouth. He manages to eat that without getting into trouble, but his veil catches a few crumbs. Swiftly, before Stellan can say anything about it, he brushes them away.

  He must start a conversation soon, lest silence reign for too long and he is declared inhospitable. Aleksander wipes his fingers on his napkin and looks up, saying, “your cooking is truly phenomenal. I have never tasted anything like it.”

  “Thank you.” Stellan bows his head in acknowledgement. His light, fluffy, white-gold hair glows in the abhorrent sunlight and resembles a halo about his head. “They do say that fae food has downright enchanting effects on the eater, after all.” He smiles, showing his pointed teeth from behind those pale rosy lips. “But one must be very careful with seasoning when working with them. Just a tiny bit of salt is enough to ruin the taste.”

  Aleksander notices how his eyes linger on the tea. At least he can’t say anything about it. “If even somebody with such an uncultured palate as myself can appreciate this, it is most definitely good.” 

  His long eyelashes flutter coquettishly; those manic eyes seem to pierce right through him. “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Some would consider you as a man who is quite well-versed with the gourmet. After all, I believe you are here for the most enticing type of fae food?”

  He knows, he knows, he knows. But he must play the part of the polite host and cannot directly trap him. Stellan is fully aware of this, surely. Aleksander shrugs, feeling light-headed. He sneaks himself another grain of salt. “I’m not sure which type you speak of.”

  “You don’t know? I’m talking about fairy’s blood. It is incredibly sought-after, especially by those who roam in darkness.”

  “By those like me, you mean.”

  “Yes.” Stellan grits his teeth; still he cannot lie. Grudgingly, he continues, “I do not know why they want it so badly when us fae cannot even be turned.”

  “Some say that fairy blood has healing properties, but that’s not true.” Aleksander runs a thumb over the iron ring he has on — his only defence lest his host stop being amicable. “There are many rumours surrounding it and it’s difficult to know which is true and which is not.”

  He drinks from his cup, lips shiny with enchanted tea. “Well, what do you think? You are one of those dark things, surely you must know the truth.”

  Dark things. Not another of the folk, but a mere thing. And they wonder why the night folk despise the pretentious fae. This is his chance. “I do not know, for I have never had fairy blood before.”

  “Really?” Stellan tilts his head, gazes at him from behind those long eyelashes. He brushes his hair away and exposes his neck, creamy and flawless. Though he has not yet tasted it, Aleksander knows that it will be more delicious and deadly than any of the foodstuffs on the tea-tower. “Well, you have a fairy right in front of you, and permission to taste their blood.”

  It is so tempting. He cannot tear his eyes away from Stellan, baring himself so unabashedly. Every cell in Aleksander’s body screams at him to attack, to pin him against the wall and sink his fangs into his neck. 

  Stellan removes his silver ring and places it on the table in plain view, blinking placidly at him in a convincing image of surrender. “Go on,” he purrs, “you know you want to.”

  Goodness, he does. The rowan berries around his neck protect him from the glamour of the offer, but the mere tone in which it’s said, magical or not, is almost enough to convince him. His velvety voice envelopes Aleksander, makes his heart race. Heat pulsing through his very being, he stands up before he can stop himself. He hides his hands behind his back and slips off his gloves.

  The closer he gets to Stellan, the harder it is to hold back. His pretty pink lips are smirking softly; his eyes gleam. Aleksander drops the gloves onto the floor and reaches out to take ahold of his chin.

  He strikes.

  Grabbing his wrist, Stellan prevents the iron ring from making contact with his skin at the last moment. Fixing Aleksander with a frenzied glare, he takes his ring finger into his mouth and tears the ring away with his teeth, spitting it out onto the table. “You won’t take me that easily, night-folk,” he sneers. 

  “But I will have you.” Aleksander twists his wrist free and grabs his shoulder, pressing his fingers into the soft fabric of his blouse. He grabs Stellan’s chin with his other hand, hissing, “I will have you, and you will yield to me.”

  “Will I?” His other hand is on Aleksander’s arm, nails digging in in an attempt to free the bruising grip on his face. That courteous host is long-gone. 

  Shaking his hand off, Aleksander pushes Stellan against the wall of the dining room. He bares his teeth and bites his neck, probing the marks with his tongue as he does so. He breathes him in deeply, all the while trying to keep Stellan pinned against the wall.

  He’s writhing underneath him, trembling and teary-eyed. Aleksander feels him press against him beseechingly, as though he wanted to be bitten all this time. He bites him a second time, just to hear him gasp. When he pulls away, he’s light-headed too, panting against Stellan’s pierced neck. His fangs graze lightly against his skin.

  Mere seconds after the bite, Aleksander’s vision begins to blur. His mind, which was running a mile a minute with a plan on just when to pull his knife out, goes fuzzy. He feels warm and floaty, as though he’s had one too many glasses of good wine. His arms slacken.

  Losing control, he leans in and nips Stellan, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to sting. He sighs, tilting his head back to show more of his neck. The floaty fabric of his blouse yields to Aleksander’s insistent fingers. He cannot tell if he intended to bite and suck along his foe’s collarbone, leaving the tiniest pink marks along the pristine skin, but the sensation feels amazing. Aleksander trails them down to his sternum, relishing every twitch with every nibble.

  Stellan is clearly as intoxicated as him, high on his bite just as Aleksander is high on the aphrodisiac that is fae blood. Stellan releases his piercing grip on his arm and twists his fingers in his hair, pulling him in until their lips brush together. He tilts his head slightly in question.

  Aleksander smashes their lips together, tasting tea and sugar as he kisses him. He groans, butterfly wings fluttering lightning-fast. Stellan traces his bottom lip with his tongue. Heat seems to pulse from them both, setting them aflame with hatred that has miraculously transformed into desire. 

  He can hardly breathe when he pulls away, arms covered in the red crescents his foe’s nails left behind and lips stinging. Stellan looks downright ruined, with bite-marks all over his neck and collarbone and swollen lips. His eyes are glazed over. With dark satisfaction, Aleksander notices that his blouse has been pulled away to expose one of his slight shoulders. 

  They stay like that for a while, panting and delirious against the wall. Aleksander is the first to speak, breathlessly announcing, “if fae blood can make a night-folk do this, I am not surprised that many want it so badly.”

  “You seem to be a peculiar exception, for most night-folk strong enough to taste fae blood never leave the fairy alive.” He smooths down his ruffled hair, trying in vain to cover the marks left by their passionate duel. “In any case, since you have managed to survive this afternoon, I see no reason why you may not come again.”

  “To risk my life once more?”

  He shakes his head. “No, to have more of this.” Stellan gestures at his bruised neck. “Though if you would like to be kissed within an inch of your life again, I would not be against it.”

  “Neither would I,” Aleksander says. He cups his cheek gently, running his thumb over a mark at the corner of his mouth. “So when I arrive tomorrow, I expect I’ll be served un-enchanted food, and be guaranteed to leave here alive?”

  “Tomorrow?” He smirks. “Certainly, Aleksander. I will be waiting tomorrow afternoon, with treats far more delicious than the ones served today.” He pecks him on the nose. “I will be looking forward to it.”

  He bends down to pick his gloves up and slides them back on. “Until then.”

  He must be the first of his kind, to not only survive afternoon tea with a fairy, but take their blood and nearly bed them. Aleksander leaves the cottage with a grin, already anticipating tomorrow’s thrill.

#aph romnor #aph romania #aph norway #aph fanfiction #my writing #owowo #never written romnor before but this was fun

[remywrites5]

May I please have some spideypool banter? Love your writing so much!

Happy New Year! 

***

           Peter sat on top of a high building with his legs dangling over the edge. He had a clear view of Time’s Square without being in the thick of it. He knew there were a few discount Spider-mans in the crowd, posing to selfies with tourists who are out celebrating New Year’s Eve. He probably could have gone down and made some money, charging five bucks a pop to get a picture with him. But as a New Yorker he knew better than to be in Time’s Square on New Year’s.

           Still, he couldn’t be at home with his Aunt for the holiday. Chances were there would be at least some drunk drivers, maybe a few unruly drunks, or even some small crimes that Peter would be able to help with. Sitting at home with his Aunt watching Holiday Inn would just make him a ball of anxiety and guilt that he was shirking his duties as Spider-man. It didn’t mean he liked leaving his Aunt to ring in the New Year by herself but she’d understood he had responsibilities.

           Peter heard some grunting from behind him and turned to see the tip of a red mask pop up over the side of the building. A few moments later the rest of Deadpool appeared as he hoisted himself up, tumbling gracelessly over to side and ending up sprawled on his back looking up at the sky.

           Peter walked over and put himself in Wade’s field of vision. “Need a hand?”

           “Is that an invitation for some sweet jerking it action, baby?” Wade asked, his mask stretching as he grinned. “Because the answer is always yes. Full consent from good old DP for the rest of time. Even if your ass did end up sagging I would still tap it on the reg.”

           Peter shook his head. “Charming as usual, I see.”

           “I just scaled a building for you, Spidey, doesn’t that win me any brownie points?” Wade asked, sitting up and turning to face Peter. Peter figured lying on katanas couldn’t be comfortable even with them being sheathed.

           Peter huffed out a breath.  Wade was always flirting with him when they encountered each other. And while it was easy to pretend he wasn’t affected by it, the truth was Peter was often grateful that he could hide behind his mask. The last thing he needed was Wade knowing just how often he made Peter blush. “It would have meant more if you’d done so with actual brownies,” he quipped, crouching down by Wade but still resolutely on his guard. Even though Wade had never hurt him in the past or even attempted to hurt him, Peter knew the Merc was dangerous if he wanted to be.

           “Wait!” Wade said, rummaging through his pouches. “I think I’ve got a Twix bar in on of these.”

           Peter raised an eyebrow even though he knew Wade couldn’t see it. “Is it fun sized?”

           “Yeah, baby, just like you!”

           Peter couldn’t help smiling as Wade pushed the candy bar into his hands. “I’m not fun sized. You’re just massive.”

           “Oh, you noticed that, huh?” Wade asked, leaning in towards Peter. “I work out.”

           Peter tried to stifle his laughter but it came out anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, wondering why he said it so fondly. Maybe Deadpool was growing on him. The Merc had taken up permanent residence almost six months ago in New York, causing havoc and showing up whenever Peter was on patrol. Peter had left the Merc webbed up to more than a few buildings even though he knew Wade could get out of it with his katanas. Wade had called it foreplay on more than one occasion, making Peter go bright red under his mask with the implications of it.

           Peter rolled his mask up to under his nose and took a bit of the Twix. “Are you a right Twix or left Twix person?” he asked as he chewed, not really caring about talking with his mouth full. It wasn’t like Deadpool would chastise him for his bad manners.

           “Left Twix all the way, baby.”

           Peter snorted. “Any particular reason?”

           Wade shrugged. “I mean a man has to take a stand somewhere, right?” He grabbed Peter by the front of his suit and hauled him forward until Peter was straddling his lap while Peter made an indignant sound at being manhandled. “Hmm, that’s better.”

           Peter finished his Twix and shoved the wrapped into one of Wade’s pouches. He was pretty sure his fingers brushed over some loose bullets, reminding him of how dangerous Wade really was. “I don’t think you’ve earned enough brownie points for this,” Peter managed to tease. He attempted to get up but Wade put his arms around Peter and locked him into place.

           “For once the Spider is caught in someone else’s web,” Wade purred. He leaned forward and slid his nose along Peter’s jawline, his breath hot against Peter’s exposed skin, making Peter shiver in response.

           “You gonna let me go?” Peter asked, putting his hands on Wade’s shoulders and getting ready to shove the Merc away. He wasn’t sure why he was hesitating.

           “Fuck baby boy, if the rest of you is as cute as your jaw and lips, I’m in real trouble,” Wade said, burying his face in Peter’s neck and nuzzling him affectionately. “You’ve already been giving me like permanent blue balls with all your teasing. I don’t think I can die of sexual frustration because – you know – super healing factor but it’s still not fun.”

           Peter gawked at him in surprise. “I haven’t been teasing you!” he said, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. It felt like if anything it was normally the other way around. Although Peter could usually play it cool, Wade had a tendency to make Peter feel equal parts embarrassed and flattered.

           Wade giggled. “Oh baby you’re such a fucking tease, you don’t even know,” he said, sliding his mask up to his nose as well and licking up Peter’s neck.

           Peter made a face and wiped his neck clean. “Are you part Chihuahua or something?’

           “Yo Quiero Taco Bell!” Wade cried out before laughing. “Fuck now I want tacos. Maybe a Mexican Pizza or five. You ever try those cinnabon bites they’ve got there with the icing inside? It’s like they jizz in your mouth except it’s waaaaay better tasting. Although I bet you taste amazing. Bet you taste like sugar, baby boy.”

           Peter felt his blush deeper. “Can’t you behave for like one minute?”

           Wade shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?”

           Peter sighed. “So is the plan to just sit here until midnight then?”

           Wade grinned. “Wanna kiss me at midnight, Spidey? Gotta start the New Year off right!”

           Peter cocked his head to the side. “I think that would be considered more wrong than right, Wade.”

           Wade dropped his hands immediately, releasing Peter from his impressive grip. The smile was gone from his face. “Ah, I get it,” he said softly. “Not that I blame you, Spider-babe. I wouldn’t want to mac on all of this either.”

           Peter felt bad and not just because he missed the warmth of Wade’s arms encircling him, keeping him toasty against the chilly December night air. He hadn’t meant to hurt Deadpool’s feelings. Usually it was harder to get a read on the Merc with his mask on but with it rolled up Peter could at least see his mouth and how it was nearly pouting, his lower lip protruding just a bit.

           “I don’t know what kind of a whore you think I am,” Peter said, joking lightly. “Kissing on the first not-even-remotely-a-date. What do you take me for? Some kind of a floosy? I don’t put out for Twix bars. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, maybe, but not a Twix. Besides, I’m right Twix as my ride or die anyway so this would never work.”

           Peter took it as a personal triumph that Wade was smiling again. “I could be persuaded to go right Twix.”

           “What happened to taking a stand?”

           “Does it look like I’m standing to you?” Wade shot back, putting his hands lightly on Peter’s hips. Not trapping him but holding him gently. Even through the gloves Peter could feel Wade radiating heat. It made Peter shiver again.

           Peter chuckled. “Fine, you can kiss me at midnight but no tongues. I know you’re Canadian and your lot is into the French but you’re in America now buster.”

           Wade wined and shifted under Peter slightly. “But Spidey, I wanna put my tongue in your mouth. How can you disregard my heritage like that? I had no idea you were so racist!”

           Peter shrugged. “Take it or leave it, Wade.”

           The countdown started below them and they had a perfect view of the ball dropping slowly. “Fine, fine, I’ll take it!” Wade said quickly.

           They got down to three and Peter licked his lips in anticipation. On the one he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Wade’s in a soft, chaste kiss. Wade’s tongue flicked against the opening of Peter’s lips and he let out a whimper when Peter refused him entrance into his mouth. He should have known Wade would try and break the rules, after all he was basically known for it. His hands had slid from innocently on Peter’s hips to full on gripping his ass.

           After a moment, Peter pulled back, taking Wade’s hands and putting them back on his hips. “Easy there, cowboy.”

           “Sorry baby, I couldn’t resist,” Wade said, grinning mischievously. “You’ve got the greatest ass since Captain America. What if I had called myself Captain Canada? Do you think I would have a museum exhibit too? I’d definitely have my own flavor of maple syrup.”

           “That would have been lame.”

           “There you go being racist again, baby,” Wade said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “We’ve really gotta get you in some meetings so you can get past your hate of my home country, especially if you’re going to date me.”

           Peter let out a startled noise. “Who says I’m going to date you?”

           Wade laughed. “Immersion therapy,” he said, gently sliding his hands up and down Peter’s thighs. “Come on baby, I’ll be so good to you. And you know they say how you spend your New Years is how you’ll spend your whole year. So that means you’ll be spending it with me.”

           Peter huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”

           “Yeah baby boy,” Wade said, nodding emphatically. “It’s like the wishbone on Thanksgiving except Thanksgiving is in October you uncultured American idiots.”

           “Now who’s being racist?” Peter teased, biting his bottom lip to keep from laughing.

           “Takes one to know one, Spidey.”

           Peter groaned. “If I spend my year with you I’m pretty sure I’ll go out of my fucking mind.”

           “I’ve already lost mine, baby. Oooh twinsies!”

           Peter leaned forward so he was whispering in Wade’s ear. “I’m not into twincest.”

           Wade moaned. “Those blue balls are going to come back with a vengeance if you keep doing that, baby boy. Like Keanu in John Wick 2…or 3.”

           Peter got Wade’s earlobe between his lips and nibbled on it gently. He surprised even himself with the intimate gesture. He had no idea what had gotten into him but he liked it. He liked having such an effect on Wade. Wade was all hard muscles and dangerous but Peter was fairly certain her could turn Wade into a puddle of goo if he wanted. “You know, we’ve got about fifty-five minutes until it’s New Year’s in Central time. We should probably kiss then too just to make sure we ring in the New Year right. Then an hour after that is Mountain Time and then an hour after that is Pacific time.”

           Wade smirked. “We gonna kiss every hour on the hour?” he asked in amusement. “What will we do in between?”

           Peter shrugged. “Cuddle?” He took his mask off and let Wade see his full face. He figured if he was going to do this he might as well go all in. Wade gasped for a moment and then ripped his own mask off. They stared at each other for a moment, seeing each other with their own eyes for the first time. Peter was struck by just how warm Wade’s eyes were. He took a moment to study the mottled texture of Wade’s skin, reaching out and brushing his fingertips over it lightly.

           “Fuck,” Wade said, his breath shaky. “Spidey, you’re a babe! And I mean that almost literally. How fucking old are you?”

           Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m twenty-one, you asshole.”

           “You still wanna do this, Spidey? Now that you’ve gotten the full picture that is my fucked up face?”

           Peter nodded. “Do you?”

           “Do you really have to ask that, baby boy?”

           “My name’s actually Peter,” he said, holding out his hand. He figured he might as well go for broke as long as he was being completely reckless.

           “Mm, I like it. Suits you,” Wade hummed, shaking Peter’s hand. “Gonna get it tattoed on my ass or at least I would but healing factor means no tats. At that point might as well just use the sticker ones. Get a butterfly or a unicorn or some kind of Lisa Frank type shit.”

           “Please don’t get my name tattooed on you, Wade,” Peter said with a deep sigh.

            “You’re right, you should get my name tattooed on your ass. Property of Wade Wilson. Sounds like a tramp stamp,” he said, wigging his eyebrows playfully.

           “Never in a million years,” Peter said, laughing softly. “And I already told you I’m not a tramp.”

           “Not yet you’re not,” Wade said, giving Peter a wink. “But give me until midnight Hawaii time and I bet I’ll have you sinning.”

           Peter leaned forward and kissed Wade softly on the lips. “There better be breakfast involved. “

           “In the actual act or afterwards?” Wade asked, nipping gently at Peter’s lower lips. “Because I would happily cover you in syrup and lick you clean”

           “Afterwards,” Peter said decisively, ignoring the way heat was pooling in his groin at the thought of Wade licking him all over. “But only if we do proper bacon and not that Canadian shit.”

           Wade tsked and shook his head. “Please at least tell me you like Celine Dion, she’s a fucking treasure.”

           Peter made a face. “Does anyone like Celine Dion?” he challenged with a raised eyebrow.

           “The Bare Naked Ladies?”

           “I only know that one song.”

           “Ugh, you’re killing me, Petey!”

           Peter laughed. “That’s actually impossible.”

           “That’s it!” Wade said, capturing Peter’s lips and kissing him hard. “Tonight will be a marathon fuckfest sountracked by the Bare Naked Ladies. And when you cum you better scream out Oh Canada!”

           Peter laughed harder and got to his feet. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” he said, holding his hand out to Wade. Wade took it and Peter lifted him to his feet.

           “Too late,” Wade said, kissing Peter again. “Happy New Year, Peter.”

           “Happy New Year, Wade.”

#spideypool #i write things #fluff #new years eve #so many canada references #peter parker x wade wilson #long post #anon prompt

[chaoticspacefam]

Character Traits Meme: The Ahaszaai Twins

I was tagged by @stratosara​ (thank you!) I shall tag (no pressure, as always, feel free to ignore if you don’t feel like it!) @pauletta-00​ , @commander-kulan​ , @mercurypilgrim​ , @a-muirehen​ and anybody else who feels like doing it!

We’ll start with the Ahaszaai twins (of course, they are my favourites), but I’ll probably do this for a couple others and throw it in the queue too, cause this one is fuuuunn :D

Bold for currently applies, italics for formerly or sometimes applies, strike for never applies (AFAIK, that’s what I’m using anyways XDD)

MANDATORY REMINDER THAT MY FICVERSE IS CANON DIVERGENT BECAUSE THERE’S ALWAYS GONNA BE SOMEONE COMING TO COMMENT “ThAt’S NoT CaNOn!” I KNOW! THAT’S THE POINT XD

SAARAI

[WEALTH ]

$ Financial : wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

[Could technically count as “wealthy” but since most of what they make goes right back into the Alliance I’m gonna call it moderate. When she fled to Rishi with Ty, though, they had very little, she was able to make enough doing odd jobs knocking pirates around etc. for them to get by, but it was a little rough.]

✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged

✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / transient / slave / unsure 

[If Valkorion hadn’t killed most of their family and she’d stayed as the heir to the Sith throne, she would’ve been considered upper class. She’s not sure what to call herself while she and Ty were on Rishi and once she becomes Empress of the Eternal Alliance she’s technically upper class again, but Saarai doesn’t like to consider herself “above” the other Alliance members and prefers to see them as equals with different viewpoints so she’s not going to label herself as “upper” class]

✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other

[Technically finished training at the Sith Academy, but because she didn’t stay for long after becoming a Lord it doesn’t count. She has plenty of knowledge of the Force though and is always learning new things when she can (though she’s not the smartest, she tries!) so she gets by.]

✖ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / classified

[Doesn’t have one, because she ran before it could be traced back to her. If her sister hadn’t taken the fall for her, though, she would’ve suffered the same fate (or worse), for murdering one of Arkous’ apprentices.]

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: has a child or children / has no biological children / wants children / has adopted children

[Has a son, Ty. In an ideal world where there was nothing stopping her, she’d want more kids because she loves them. But trust issues and being one of the main figureheads of the Alliance means she doesn’t really have time to be on maternity leave to raise a baby. So she makes do with helping teach the youngsters and/or babysitting her nieces, nephews and grandchildren instead :3]

◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

[Saarai only has one sibling, her twin sister Ni’kasi, and they are very close, so close that they have a Force bond, in fact!]

◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable  

[Father was killed when she was a very young child, she only has vague memories of him. Was raised by her mother for most of her life, till things (which she still blames herself for) caught up to them and her mother was killed too. Though they don’t reunite officially till Iokath, the twins are adopted by their uncle Vowrawn and his husband Abaron after their mother dies.]

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

[Saarai is careful and guarded (but polite, unless you give her reason not to be) with strangers, but with those she is familiar with she is very vocal and extroverted.]

♦ dis-organised / organised / in between

♦ closed-minded / open-minded / in between

♦ calm / anxious / in between

[Only gets anxious in specific situations, otherwise is generally pretty calm.]

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

♦ cautious / reckless / in between

[cautious in certain very specific situations, but when it comes to the battlefield and protecting her loved ones or allies Saarai is very reckless. She operates under the principal of “if they’re hurting me then they’re not hurting you and I can take more beatings than you can”, much to Lana and Koth’s dismay XD]

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

♦ leader / follower / in between

♦ empathetic / unempathetic / in between

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

[Since the trauma in her past, Saarai had to learn the hard lesson that she can’t assume someone isn’t going to try and hurt her, so she tries to be more critical of people, but her first attempt is always to see the good in someone.]

♦ traditional / modern / in between

[Holds more to the old old Sith traditions she learnt from her mother (and the few memories she has of her father), than Valkorion’s Empire’s traditions. Is relatively open-minded about adapting and changing her views, within reason.]

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured / uncultured  / in between

[Has a generally dignified air most of the time. But on the battlefield or when she gets really angry, she’s fucking feral. She has teeth that can crack bones and she will use them on you if she has to.]

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / other*

[*Polycurious, and strongly woman-leaning, does end up in a closed poly relationship with Lana and Koth mid-way through KOTFE.]

❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable / naive and clueless

[Had to work through some stuff after her trauma, but has managed to work through (most of) it now through the years and is all for it.]

♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable / naive and/or inexperienced

[Saarai is one of the sappiest romantics you have ever met. If she loves you, she’s not afraid to show it in any way possible: cuddles, kisses, dinner dates, stay-at-home-and-watch-movies dates, random flowers, anything you can possibly think of, if it makes you smile, she’ll do it.]

❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

[Absolutely knows what she’s doing (and can certainly give you a good time ;)), but isn’t particularly adventurous.]

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

[After her bad experiences with Ty’s father, she’s not comfortable with any sort of intimate contact with men, not even Koth (and she trusts him more than anything - they have it all worked out between the three of them though and everyone’s happy with the way things are). Sticks almost exclusively to women, would probably be okay with fem-presenting people of other genders, but masc-presenting people would worry her.]

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

[Heavily female-leaning, but not adamantly against a romantic relationship with a man...it will just take her longer to trust and feel comfortable with them, but as long as they respect the boundaries she sets out (thank you, Koth!), she’s fine!]

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none  

≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✍ Artistic Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[Do not let her near a computer or explosives, for your own safety, please. Even she will warn you as such and refuse to touch it. She’s not good with them LOL Saarai can do very simple things like plug something into a navcomputer, or scroll through files on a datapad/in an archive but that’s about the limit of what her abilities allow.]

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

[Social drinker, but never over the top.]

☁ Smoking: trying to quit / never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

✿ Other Narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

[Assuming this refers to kolto and whatever else they put in the medpacs etc. Then yes. Sometimes if she gets hurt and Lana or her sister isn’t around to fix it for her.]

☻ Indulgent Food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

♣ Gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

NI’KASI

[WEALTH ]

$ Financial : wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

[Formerly a slave with nothing to her name, but since rising the ranks of the Dark Council has made quite a name for herself, even after leaving the Empire to join up with her sister in the Alliance.]

✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged

[During her time as a slave she was deliberately kept sickly/weak to stop her from fighting back properly or trying to escape, but once she was re-entered into the Korriban Academy and started training she gradually re-built her muscle tone. She’s still less bulky than her sister because of this, but she’s got decent enough muscle by mid-way through her canon storyline.]

✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / transient / slave / unsure

[Like Saarai, would have stayed upper if Valkorion hadn’t happened. Spent almost half a decade in slavery, but gradually worked her way up again to make it back to upper class.]

✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other

[As a Dark Council member (and eventually Alliance Council Member), Ni’kasi is very much one of the leading authorities in her field. That doesn’t mean she’s stopped studying though, not in the slightest. She’s always looking through the archives to expand her knowledge base so she can use it to help her family and allies.]

✖ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no / classified

[Was on the books for Tsâhis (Ty’s father)’s murder, though this was wiped after she became high ranked enough within the Empire as she’d earned that much. What no one but their family knows, however, is that though she confessed to the murder, Ni’kasi wasn’t the one who did it. She simply said she was so she could protect her sister and ensure that she could get her nephew, Ty, out of harm’s way (otherwise Ty would’ve had nobody to raise him).]

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: has a child or children / has no biological children / wants children / has adopted children

[I haven’t named them yet (or gotten that far in their part of the story), but she has at least two with Andronikos, maybe a third later on down the line. I haven’t made my mind up yet.]

◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased

[Her only sibling is her twin sister, Saarai. They’re very close and even share a Force bond. There’s nothing in the universe Ni’kasi wouldn’t do for her sister. If Saarai says “jump”, she asks “how high?”.]

◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable  

[Father was killed when she was a very young child, unlike Saarai, Ni’kasi has very few memories of him. Was raised by her mother for most of her life, till things caught up to them and her mother was killed too. Ni’kasi reunites with their uncle Vowrawn and Abaron much earlier, and they adopt the twins as their own since their mother’s passing.]

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between

♦ dis-organised / organised / in between

♦ closed-minded / open-minded / in between

[Ni’kasi, too, sticks more to the old old Sith ideals taught by her mother, but is far more openly critical of Jedi views. She won’t completely throw them aside but it will take a lot of convincing to get her to come around.]

♦ calm / anxious / in between

♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between

[Mostly agreeable...but is still not fond of Jedi. Where necessary, she will tolerate them, but she makes it clear that she can’t wait for it to be over when that happens.]

♦ cautious / reckless / in between

[This woman has a back up-back up plan for the back up plan for the back up plan. She thinks through everything before she makes a decision or follows through an action and very rarely reacts on impulse.]

♦ patient / impatient / in between

♦ outspoken / reserved / in between

♦ leader / follower / in between

[Usually a leader and quite bossily so. Except where her sister is involved; she will follow her sister anywhere and listen to any order Saarai gives her, no matter what, because Saarai’s the boss.]

♦ empathetic / unempathetic / in between

[Comes off as unempathetic, but is in fact simply very literal/logical and has a bit of resting bitch face XD.]

♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

♦ traditional / modern / in between

♦ hard-working / lazy / in between

♦ cultured / uncultured  / in between

♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown

♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual

❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable / naive and clueless

[She’s a Sith, it’s like...one of the most important “rules” they teach XD.]

♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable / naive and/or inexperienced

[”Repulsed” is  a strong word, I’d more call it “hesitant”. Ni’kasi is demiromantic, so she needs to know a person well enough before she can actually fall in love with them. When she does, though, and she accepts that that’s what it is, she’s alright with it and comes to enjoy little romantic gestures here and there. Though she and Andronikos are certainly more private about their affections, she prefers it that way (:]

❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

[Relatively experienced and open to try new things, within reason. Won’t do anything too crazy.]

⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

[Kas is demiromantic, strongly leaning towards men because that’s who she prefers in bed.]

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[Good on the battlefield, as long as she’s not close-range, her footwork is sloppy and she’s incredibly clumsy, despite being the less bulky between her and her twin, Kas is the one that trips over her own feet while duelling.] 

≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✍ Artistic Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

[Kas is a lightweight, she can’t hold her liqueour well and gets drunk very easily so she prefers not to drink if it can be helped, but is occasionally persuaded to have a glass or two by Andronikos or some of her other companions.]

☁ Smoking: trying to quit / never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

✿ Other Narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

☻ Indulgent Food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

[Didn’t get much of it as a slave, Andronikos likes to surprise her with nice things like chocolate on occasion because her face always lights up when he does (:]

$ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

[Not often, due to coming out of slavery, she understands the value of money and is somewhat picky about what she spends it on, but isn’t above picking up something nice if she knows she can afford to spend on it.]

♣ Gambling: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

#swtor #star wars: the old republic #swtor OCs #tagged meme #OC meme #swtor oc: saarai ahaszaai #swtor oc: ni'kasi ahaszaai #the sith twins #some more backstory tidbits included #[wink wink nudge nudge] #;) #sith pureblood

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [21]

Chapter 20 - Chapter 21 - Chapter 22

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

You love your job. Really you do. This is the best career you’ve had. It’s fulfilling and the administrative work can be rather fun. You adore every person in this office. You haven’t had many bad days or terrible encounters. You also get to work alongside your partner in crime. But this….this is one of the rare moments you have to convince yourself you love your job.

“Look it’s not that big of a deal.”   “Of course it’s a big deal! That’s my personal space that you’re invading. And last I checked, you don’t have to suffer the consequences of your own actions.”   “Okay, wait, wait.” You put out a hand, halting Yoongi and Sunyi’s argument with each other. “Let’s take a step back and assess the root of the problem.”   “The problem is that he microwaved something in my office and now I can’t even walk in without wanting to gag and puke!” Sunyi is both exasperated and hysterical.   “Ever heard of mung beans?” Yoongi’s brow lifts with a mocking smile that adds more fuel to the fire. “It’s quite healthy for you and it’s really soft when you heat them up.”   “They smell like death!” Her fist pounds against the conference table. Out of the corner of your eye and through the glass windows of the room, you catch Lisa and Dahyun looking over from their spot at the front desk. It’s like these two are in the middle of a divorce mediation appointment. “Why can’t you just use the microwave in the kitchen?”   “Jin microwaved popcorn. I don’t want my mung beans to smell like popcorn.”   “You are unbelievable! Get your own damn microwave!”   “Listen.” He spins in his swivel chair, pointing his index finger down at the wooden surface of the table. “Why do you have a microwave in your office anyways if no one can use it?”   “It’s my microwave in my office for my own convenience and for me to use. Not for you, Min!” she spits it out in animosity and her blood vessel at her temple threaten to burst. “Not for you or your damn mung beans! Stay out!”   “Alright!” You shout above them both, straining your voice and getting between them before it spirals more out of control. “Enough. If you can’t discuss the issue properly like adults without screaming then how are we supposed to do this?” A long sigh spills from your lungs. “I’ve heard both sides and Yoongi, I believe you should apologize to Sunyi. It is her microwave after all and you didn’t ask permission to use it. The microwave in the kitchen is working fine and that’s for everyone to use. There’s no need to barge into Sunyi’s office.”   “Okay.” He nods once. “I understand and I’m sorry, Sunyi.”   “That’s it?” The female lawyer looks at you, her arms in the air. “There’s no punishment for him?”   “Well...if there’s a second offense, I’ll look into proper consequences. It’s a warning for now. If you need air freshener, I have some you can borrow.”   Sunyi falls back, collapsing into the chair while rubbing her temples. “Oh my god.”   Today is a heavy session of conflict resolution. You and Hoseok were chatting about the two lawyers casually on the sofa one night and he decided to put an end to it once and for all. It was getting pretty ridiculous when over three quarters of the complaints were of Yoongi from Sunyi. There are a lot of investigations still pending, but it’s time to put everything in the open and find the root issue to address it and stop this nonsense. Hoseok was here, mostly to observe and give you moral support, but much to your dismay, the lawyer looked more entertained than anything.   “Okay. Let’s take a look at some older complaints.” Your foot moves the first box forward and you lean down, plucking a random page from the papers sandwiched inside, as if you were picking a name slip in the Hunger Games. Your throat clears. “On February sixteenth of this year, Yoongi was calling Sunyi by the name Sunny all day and confusing the client they were talking to.”   “It’s a cute nickname, right?” Yoongi asks no one in particular, more so a thought aloud.   “It’s not good if the client is confused,” Hoseok adds.   You put the filled form down. “Yoongi, you should call Sunyi by her legal name since that’s what she wants.”   “Okay.”   You turn to her. “Is that alright with you?”   “I...uh...yeah.” She nods, cheeks heating up, and no one notices her reaction except for Yoongi who smiles to himself.   You pick another. “Here’s one made on December twentieth. Yoongi was wearing too strong of a cologne and it was clogging up your nose and making it hard to breathe.”   Everyone turns to look at her, giving the female a chance for further explanation. But instead, Sunyi’s head is downcast and she fiddles with her fingers in her lap. “Ummm...can...can I actually redact that? I don’t mind...it doesn’t bother me anymore.”   “Redact?” Your brow shoots upwards. “Alright. Makes the job easier.”   Yoongi gazes at her, staring, and goosebumps raise along her skin from the mere intensity of his eyes. Unfortunately, you don’t notice the exchange. You’re too busy picking out another sheet while Hoseok is preoccupied checking you out and making you send a glare his way, to which he gives you a greasy smile and flirtatious wink.   “Okay. November second, Yoongi spammed you email after email asking if orange pee is normal.”   Hoseok butts into the conversation, concerned for his friend. “Did you go to the doctor?”   “Yeah and I’m fine.” He smiles.   Sunyi raises her hand timidly. “Can I withdraw that?”   “Sure.” You put it aside into the accumulating pile. “Here’s another one where you said he was out to get you and driving you insane—”   “Redact that please!” Sunyi interrupts and Yoongi smirks.   He’s still staring at her, elbow propped on the table, cheek in his hand. “I drive you insane?”   She ignores him, speaking directly to you. “I’d like to withdraw it.”   “Okay…”   Somehow Sunyi redacting a lot of the complaints, especially those that attack Yoongi’s general character, personality or behaviour. You’re baffled, wondering if something changed her mind or they reconciled on their own. Nonetheless, the session is fairly successful and the two of them are less hostile towards each other by the end.   Still, you privately tell Hoseok to talk to Yoongi since they’re both friends and you know the latter man respects the former. Hoseok agrees and in confidence speaks to Yoongi about not wasting time or bothering Sunyi anymore to which the dark-haired lawyer nods along with. Sunyi leaves soon after, thanking you and it’s a job well done.   You high five Hoseok but he considers it inadequate, pulling you aside when you’re both alone and he kisses you eagerly, murmuring about how hot you look when you’re working hard. You scoff, chiding for him to get back to work and he salutes you with a firm ‘yes, ma’am’.

The restaurant has a cozy atmosphere, dim lighting that comes from candlelights placed in the middle of tables. The chatter and murmur of conversations blurs together with the soft music, but it’s quieter in the secluded area. The scent of food wafting from the kitchen is appetizing and the quality is only imaginable considering the toasted bread and creamy butter the waitress brought out is already mouthwatering.   You imagine this would be a fancy, hot date between you and Hoseok. But nope. The person sitting across from you is Kim Seokjin who’s devouring the bread like a wild animal starved. You’re also jammed between Naul who sips on her glass of red wine, lost in thought like she’s seen too much in her lifetime, and Namjoon who has his fingers attached onto his phone.   Hoseok is sitting at the front of the table with Jimin, visibly more tortured than you are.   “Jin! What the fuck!” Lisa moves her arm away, shooting him a disgusting glare. “You’re slobbering! And butter just hit my fucking arm! Eat properly, you dog!”   “Look.” He chews, cheeks stuffed to the brim. “I haven’t eaten in literally five hours, okay? I’m starving and the food is taking forever!”   “Can we not swear in a fancy place like this?” Seulgi pleads with a long sigh. “It makes us look unsophisticated and uncultured.”   “Are we supposed to be sophisticated?” Taehyung moves his sunglasses down, looking over the rim of his dark shades.   “What the hell are you even wearing.”   “It’s fashion. Ask Namjoon!”   “Don’t ask me,” the legal assistant mutters while still tapping away at his phone.   Sunyi scoffs. “You’re wearing pajamas, Taehyung.”   “Pajamas are in. Right, Jungkook?”   “Uh...” The younger lawyer reaches for his glass of water, sipping through the straw and refusing to give an answer.   “I can’t believe you blow your money on shit like that.” Lisa shakes her head in disapproval, obviously judging his horrible tastes.   “Don’t tell me how to spend my money and I won’t tell you how to spend yours, Miss-I-get-a-pedicure-every-other-day.”   “Excuse you! It’s relaxing for me.”   “Well, shopping is relaxing for me.”   “I prefer online shopping,” Inyoung timidly murmurs, attempting to mediate the argument.   They ignore her, but Dahyun swoops in with a smile to acknowledge the accountant. “Same here.”   “Look, I’m sorry you fools have no fashion sense.” Taehyung leans back in his seat, arms on top of the other chairs beside him. “And if Namjoon was paying any attention, you would know that he has the exact same set as I do. We actually pre-ordered it together.”   Seulgi turns to her friend with a frown. “What are you doing, Namjoon?”   He doesn’t look away from the screen and she thinks he’s actively ignoring her, but then the corner of his mouth moves. “Texting my girlfriend.”   “What.” Everyone cranes their necks over to stare like they’re hyperactive dogs and he’s a bouncing squirrel. “Since when?”   “Since years ago. Haven’t I talked about her?” The paralegal pockets his mobile device and finally lifts his head, pushing his glasses up the slope of his nose before it slips too far. “She plays in the philharmonic orchestra.”   “No, you haven’t talked about it,” Jin spits at his best friend, absolutely appalled and shocked at this news. “What the hell…”   “Yeah, she’s nice.” Namjoon shrugs nonchalantly and it doesn’t do much to lessen the shock.   But it goes quiet as they mull over the new revelation. And Jimin takes the opportunity to stand up. “Alright, alright. Let me get everyone’s attention again. Fellow employees of Jung and Park, do you know why we’re all here on this lovely evening?”   “Food?” Jin jokes, but he’s all too serious at the same time. He looks around and his eyes pin on a waiter holding a plate...only for that waiter to brush past and head to a different table. Dammit.   “No. We’re celebrating Hoseok’s and my anniversary!” There’s a pause. “Of being called to the bar!”   “Right.” Naul nods and holds up her glass, congratulating him before downing the rest of her drink.   Jimin is not impressed. “Can we get some more enthusiasm in here?”   “To Hoseok and Jimin!” Yoongi holds up his glass of water and everyone mimics him, raising their glass. Each gives one monotonous and short shout and then rehydrates themselves, making you laugh and Jimin snicker.   He opens his mouth, but gives up, taking a seat again with an exhale. His partner, on the other hand, grins. “Would anyone like to make a toast?”   “I will.” Taehyung volunteers, happily taking the spotlight as he stands and holds his water with a boxy smile. “I have been working at this firm ever since it started and I’m so glad that you dragged and threatened me to be here, Jimin. You were right. I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed that tax firm….even if they paid me more and had better benefits and was a closer commute…..”   Both friends laugh and he turns to smile at the other lawyer. “Hoseok, you’re scary. When any of us make a mistake, you glare, but lately you’ve been a lot nicer and approachable. I just wanted to say that it’s okay if any one of us mess up. We’re human after all.”   No one knows where he’s going with the toast, only that he’s ballsy enough to be this direct to Hoseok and still stand in front of him. Though Taehyung has no malice in his voice, just idiotic joy and he inhales, looking carefully at everyone. “But I think we have to mention a very special someone who’s sitting at this table right now. Y/N!”   “Me?” You blink, dumbfounded.   “Yes.” His lips are tilted upwards, cheeks puffing out, too cute. “You are the backbone of our entire firm. I don’t know what we would do without you. Thank you for being here. Thank you for staying with us. Thank you for saving us from scary, scary Hoseok.”   He sits back down and Lisa jumps up. “My turn! First off, I want to congratulate my two bosses, Jimin and Hoseok. Jung and Park has been the best place I’ve ever worked at and even though I know my job is technically less important than all of yours, you have never once made me feel insignificant in the office. For that, I am grateful. Congratulations on your anniversary.”   “But…” She quickly moves on before anyone can stop her and applaud. “I also have to thank Y/N.” Lisa smiles and shifts to you, eyes twinkling. “I know we got off on the wrong foot and I wasn’t always the nicest. But you never once took that and used it against me. You listened to me when no one else would. You helped me during tough times. You feel like a ray of sun in the office. God knows before you came, everything was a mess.”   The receptionist laughs and the others agree, nodding along. “There were boxes everywhere and I couldn’t walk without bumping into anything. So, thank you, Y/N. You don’t know what you mean to all of us.”   She sits back down and Jimin protests, “Wait a minut—”   “Hold on.” Timid Inyoung stands, adjusting the length of her skirt before she picks up her glass and presses it to her chest, gazing at you endearingly. “I also want to thank Y/N.”   The girl is sincere and you’re smiling, tears filling your eyes, overwhelmed by their appreciation. “I know we’re all kind of doing this as a joke to take the light away from Jimin and Hoseok—” She glances at them with a soft laugh. “—but I really mean it. Y/N, you are the sweetest person I know and you were there for me during one of the scariest times of my life. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be right now. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. You’re the one who sticks up for everyone in this office and I don’t think we tell you that enough. You’re the one who time and time again proves that you genuinely care about us. And for that, thank you.”   You’re speechless. “You guys…”   Jungkook clears his throat. He steps up as well. “Y/N, I know you already know this but, you’re my role model. I aspire to be someone like you, someone who works hard and is so passionate about their work. The office has been changed for the better ever since you arrived. Jung and Park wouldn’t be able to function without your...uh..presence….”   He’s blushing from the attention and awkwardly shuffles back into his chair.   “You guys, let’s not take the light away from what we’re actually here for.” Seokjin grins mischievously, pushing away his hunger and chaotically getting up, scratching the leg chairs against the floorboards. He looks at the front, eyeing both lawyers. “Hoseok...Jimin…” They’re both expectant and Jin lifts his glass higher. “...thank you for hiring Y/N.”   There’s laughing and chuckling all around. Jimin opens his mouth to whine at the audacity to treat him like this, but unknowingly, you interrupt, getting to your feet and scanning your surroundings to imprint this memory into your mind. “You guys, I’m absolutely flattered.”   “You’re the ones who make me love my job so much. To be completely honest, before I came here, I was having a difficult time. I was applying everywhere trying to look for jobs, but I never expected to land my dream career. You’re the best bunch I’ve ever had the opportunity of working with. I’m so lucky and sometimes I wonder if I deserve it all.”   “But let’s not forget about Jimin and Hoseok.” All jokes aside, you shift to address each of them. “Jimin, you’re sweet and generous to everyone regardless of who they are. Congratulations on your anniversary for being called to the bar. Thank you for needing an HR rep.” The lawyer giggles, smiling wide, finally having his proper praise.   “And Hoseok.” Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re focused on him, tunnel vision, everything else blurring into the background. “I don’t think you’re mean at all. Well, maybe sometimes. You’re passionate about your job and I admire that. If people got to know you better, they’d know you’re literal sunshine on this planet. Thank you for hiring me.”   There’s a pause where you take a deep breath, eyes locked into his. “Thank you for picking me...out of everyone else.”   Your speech is coming to an end and you spin on your heel to address the rest of them. “Also, I’d like to use this opportunity to remind everyone that the fridge is a communal space. This has been an issue for a while now, but please do not eat food if it’s not labeled as yours and if you don’t know, it never hurts to ask.”   There’s a round of applause and you sit back down, hands falling into your lap, slightly embarrassed from the whole ordeal. No one notices, but you can feel Hoseok’s gaze on you.   Jimin grins. “There we go! Finally, a proper toast!”   And like perfect timing would have it— “Food’s here!” Jin’s announcement garners cheers as waiters and waitresses approach the table, passing around the food. People begin to dig in and you take one look around at each person’s face, all too happy to be here.   Your eyes meet Hoseok and you smile. He quirks his head to the side as well, staring and smiling back.   //   The pair of you return to the office. Giggles and drunken laughter echo down the halls, fluorescent lights flicker on slowly, flooding the entire floor with light. You teeter inside, throwing your bag and coat onto a chair at the empty front desk as he follows behind.   “Did you have a good time?”   You spin around, arms thrown around his neck. “Course I did.”   “Everyone loves you.” Hoseok grins, searching your face. “You took the spotlight.”   You laugh again, leaning closer and tilting your head. His breath skims along your skin, lips a millimeter away and his hands find purchase on your waist. Hoseok’s eyes become half-lidded, flickering down to your mouth and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Now you really can’t fire me, Jung. Else there’d be a riot.”   He laughs softly. “You know how to capture people, minx.” And Jung Hoseok leans in, breathing you in. His eyes are slightly open, watching your expression until he shuts them, relishing in the tender touch, enjoying the way your hands run through the strands of his hair, tugging ever so gently.   You pull away after ten seconds. “Wait, wait….we said we wouldn’t do it at the office again. What happens if we get caught?”   “You really think anyone would come here at this time?”   “I don’t know.” You giggle, feeling ticklish by the way his hands move along your side. You play with the hairs at the nape of his neck, lips pouty. “We should’ve just gone to your apartment instead.”   “That’s too far away.” He moves closer, body pressed on yours and the air becomes heated, making your skin feel hot. “Would rather have you right here, right now.”   Another giggle spills from your kiss-bitten lips and you draw closer as if you’re addicted to his scent, his hands. But then something stops you from planting a kiss on his mouth. There’s a subtle clatter, like the sound of thunder, but quieter and yet, closer. “Hoseok.”   “Hmm?” He’s too busy staring, touching, taking you all in to notice.   “What was that?”   You both crane your necks over. He holds your hand, stalking the noise. It’s probably a bad idea. You’ve watched enough horror movies, and you don’t know what to do if the office is haunted; knowing Hoseok, he’d probably pick up and move Jung and Park to a warehouse instead.   The noise comes from Taehyung’s office and you frown. Hoseok extends his hand, fingers wrapping around the knob, and he throws the door open. It crashes against the wall. You gasp. Eyes wide. Jaw dropping. There are clothes all over the ground, a small lamp fallen on the carpet as well, probably the noise you heard.   More importantly, on top of Taehyung’s desk, with papers amok is Sunyi and Yoongi wrapped around each other.   “Oh my god!” — “Holy fuck!” — “Don’t stare!” — “Sorry!”   It’s horrifying. You wish you saw a ghost instead.   //   The need to wash your eyes is all too high. But you compose yourself, trying to act like an adult, especially in this moment. You’re sobered up. If possible, the intoxication has been scared out of you.   The conference room is deathly quiet. Hoseok called for an emergency meeting and the two lawyers are barely put together. There are purple and blue hickeys all over Sunyi’s throat, her blouse still unbuttoned. Yoongi has lipstick stains all over his mouth and cheeks, hair riled up like he was electrocuted. It’s so unbearably uncomfortable that you feel yourself dying inside.   “How long has this been going on for?”   You’re the first to start off with a crystal clear voice, enunciating each syllable with your hands clasped on top of the table. “It’s complicated.” Sunyi is mortified, face reddened, head downcast. “It’s been...on and off.”   “When’s the first...time then?” It’s not like you want to intrude into their lives or overstep your boundaries, but this is unfortunately part of your job. You can’t pretend like you didn’t see it.   “Two years ago,” Yoongi states plainly, more composed than the female beside him.   “Years?” Hoseok’s brows shoot upwards, wholly surprised.   “This is purely a sexual relationship,” Sunyi scrambles to explain as if it can save the situation.   “Yeah right.” He scoffs, looking at you to explain. “We’re dating.”   She automatically protests, voice moving up a pitch, sharp and offended, “No, we’re not!”   “Then what do you describe going out ten times to movies and dinners? What? Are we friends?”   “It’s not dating. It’s just...hanging out...or rather, being at the same place by coincidence.”   Yoongi scoffs again, ignoring her. “We’re living together.”   “No!” She sighs. “I just have a lot of my stuff at his apartment and it happens to be closer to work than my place and my landlord is an asshole—”   “Alright.” Hoseok stops them before he gets a headache. He pinches the bridge of his nose, letting them off the hook considering how late of a night it is. “Obviously you need to talk to each other and figure this out. I don’t care what you guys are doing on your own time and neither does Jimin, but we need to know to prevent liability issues, okay? You’re both lawyers and you should understand that. So go home, figure it out, and in the morning, go report to HR.”   Sunyi nods frantically, grabbing her coat and covering herself up, walking out before she’s humiliated any further. But as you all make your way, Yoongi’s cat-like eyes are sharp and narrowed into slits. It sees right through you. “But...why did you two show up?”   He inhales a shallow breath and the corner of his mouth tugs, like they’re tempted to pull into a smirk. He knows.   “I had to pick something up.” Hoseok swallows hard, pupils diverted elsewhere.   Yoongi smiles and he glances at you for a millisecond. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”   “Goodnight, Yoongi.”   The pair of you watch them leave, still unable to wrap your minds around this bizarre development. Then, a tired exhale leaves through the seams of your lips. “I’m going to have to do another presentation on office romances and not having sex here, right?”   “Probably.” Hoseok nods, still looking ahead at the elevator doors with you. “But right now, we have unfinished business.”   “If you think for one second that after that we’re going to your office—”   “To my apartment we go!” Hoseok laughs, clutching your hand in his and dragging you off as your mouth curls and a soft scoff leaves it.   The trip to his place isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Well, considering Hoseok kicks the front door open and he’s carrying you. You didn’t have to take many steps, but he was slightly struggling, almost crashing into the wall and wobbling from side to side. “Oof.”   “I thought I was light as a feather, Hobi.” You make fun of him, tugging on his chubby cheek and mimicking his words from inside the apartment elevator.   Still, the fool of a lawyer manages a laugh and a grin. “You’re heavy as one brick. So not that much.”   “Lovely. Comparing me to a brick.”   Once he’s made it to the bedroom, he throws you onto the mattress, making your body bounce once and you feel absolutely giddy from head to toe. He strips off his jacket before jumping on top of you, causing laughs to bubble out. You complain he’s too heavy and too warm, pushing him off.   But even when Hoseok’s moved aside, he’s relentless, arms wrapping around your abdomen, nuzzling into you. A quiet yawn leaves him and he cuddles into your body, head propped on top of your crown. “Y/N…”   “Hmm?” Your lashes flutter, finally simmering down.   “Wanna just sleep instead? You’re too soft to let go. Like a pillow.”   “Okay.” Your hands card through the strands of his hair, patting and petting him. The man who’s melted into putty hums in satisfaction, reminiscent of a cat being lulled by their owner. “But Hoseok.”   “Yeah?”   “I still need to brush my teeth. And take off my makeup. And change into pajamas.”   There’s silence.   You wonder if he’s fallen asleep. “Hoseok?”   “Yes, ma’am.” He pulls away, albeit reluctantly and obviously tired. Yet somehow, he manages to scoop you up in his arms again, carrying you into his bathroom to get ready for bed. He’s all too silly and as you laugh, you wonder how it’s possible sunshine has been encapsulated into one man.

#bts scenario #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fluff #hoseok scenario #THE END IS NEAR

[neekaxiv]

Dominique La’fleur aka Neeka

(( While I’m not actively SEEKING new RP right now, I’m not against something blossoming but I wanted some up to date information available with the Data Center split.  ))

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: 30

Birthday: Unknown (17th Sun of the 4th Astral Moon)

Race: Highlander Hyur

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual 

Marital Status: Partnered to @theash-hatrukoth

Server: Balmung

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Auburn with honey-hued highlights

Eyes: Dark amber

Height: 6 Fulm (6 Foot even)

Build: Feminine, fit, toned

Distinguishing Marks: Large sprawling vines with thorns and roses tattooed on her back. A very large scar that starts at her pelvis and wraps around to her lower back

Common Accessories: several facial piercings including eyebrow hoop, a diamond nose stud, and diamond labret stud. Rings and earring are always present. A soul crystal embedded into a pendant around her neck. A large bracelet designed with roses and thorns.

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Publicly - Mercenary; Privately - Assassin

Hobbies: Drinking, sex, working out, watching theater productions, cooking

Languages: Eorzean, some Hingan

Residence: Several. The La’fleur Manor in Ishgard, a beach home in Shirogane, as well as several condos scattered throughout the city-states.

Birthplace: Ala Mhigo

Religion: Agnostic

Patron Deity: None

Fears: Publicly - None; Privately - Chains, her past, spriggans

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: @theash-hatrukoth

Children: None (Those miqo’te boys do NOT count)

Parents: Adopted - Robert La’fleur ; Biological (Unknown to her) - The Thornbreakers

Siblings: None that she is aware of

Other Relatives: None except for those closest to her that she would consider family. @nalukaixiv would be one such example

Pets: Too many for her liking. Larry the duck and Bowser the bullpup are the two main ones.

TRAITS ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Inpatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION & SPECIAL NOTES ––– –

Smoking Habit: On occasion Drugs: On occasion Alcohol: Frequently 

Neeka is a very private person, as such many details of her life aren’t readily available for most to know. If it logically makes sense that a character could find a piece of information out, I’m all for it!

Neeka is committed romantically to Asher Rukoth, however, it’s not uncommon for her to have one night flings with random faces/bodies when she’s away from home.

Expanding on that, Neeka is a very sexual character. She /will/ attempt to sleep with someone if she finds them attractive or if they have something she needs. While sex is very much enjoyable for her, it’s also a tool of power. This is not -me- being a horndog or trying to use and discard an RP partner.

Further expansion: She is not public about her relationship with Asher, at least in how deep it goes. She’ll say he’s her partner without a problem but you’re not going to hear her talking about her love for her ‘husband’ or ‘soulmate’. That’s kept private for him and him alone.

Neeka is a very powerful character, and as such, I like to be very careful when getting combative. It’s unfair to godmod from either side of an RP encounter, which is why when it comes to death/dismemberment/totally crushing someone I like to keep that to NPC related things unless there has been a HUGE conversation beforehand.

RP HOOKS ––– –

Ishgardian Nobility: Neeka is the Lady of House La’fleur. The title was passed onto her when her adoptive father Robert passed away. She’s not very good at being a noble, letting the staff of the house take care of almost everything however there are times when duty calls and she must answer

Failed Dragoon: Neeka owns a dragoon soul crystal which gives her the ability to fight like a dragoon. (Passed down to her from the La’fleur estate) She was trained for many years, but ultimately when the time came to dedicate herself to the Temple Knights she refused and vanished. It’s not uncommon to see her using those powers for less than noble causes.

Underworld: One of her monikers is The Thorn. A well-renowned assassin that comes with a hefty price tag. She has never failed, and the name tends to strike fear into the hearts of those it might be pointed at due to her love of paralytics and poisons. 

Anything fun: Neeka is a hedonistic creature who is always looking for a good time. Bars, clubs, casinos, plays, really anything that has some form of entertainment you’ll likely run into her.

OOC & CONTACT INFORMATION  ––– –

You can contact me here through tumblr messaging or catch me in game. I’m liberal with my discord information after first contact to chat. 

Even if we don’t end up finding the time to sit down and RP I’m all about chatting about potential connections or small head cannons that can be thrown into each other's stories. 

I have no problem with any type of RP, I tend to match my writing to my partner. I can do quick snappy single line RP or multi-para (The latter is one I would say I’m more comfortable with given my preference for Discord RP) 

Expanding on that, I also have no issues writing sexual scenes should it be relevant to a story somehow. If it’s sex just for the sake of sex then you’ll find me asking to fade to black. 

I stated it earlier, but Neeka is a very powerful character. In my stories, she does not fail when it’s something important, but that’s not to say that she never fails. She does, quite a bit and it’s a blast to write providing we’re both on the same page. 

OOC communication is the single most important aspect of writing to me.

#NeekaIC #character sheet #ffxiv #rp #balmung #crystal data center #Info dump

[winnipegpatty]

to all the boys i’ve loved before [pt ii.] | s.m.

a/n: tumblr hates me, and deleted pt. ii. so here i am reposting. apparently this is just a thing that’s gonna happen with all my writing. cool. anyway, enjoy if you haven’t already read. reblog, like it, come talk to me about it. pls. i need validation. 

part i. part iii. 

I should probably consider going to a therapist. I must be insane. I had to be. This is only a thing a crazy person would do. Not only had I considered Shawn’s proposal over the last twenty four hours, I entertained the thought. A lot. If Gen was sure to be jealous of their relationship, maybe Josh would be too. And not that I wanted to date Josh or anything, it would be kind of nice to see him jealous over someone else liking me. And well, maybe fake dating Shawn wouldn’t be so bad. He was cute after all, and popular. He might teach me a thing or two about dating, of which I knew exactly...zero things. So really it didn’t seem so bad. It couldn’t really hurt, could it?

But considering Shawn’s idea and actually accepting it were two different games.

In my own land where I control the outcome of each of my decisions, can know exactly what everyone thinks or does around me, well this idea sounds amazing. But in the real world. The world where Gen hated me, and I had exactly one friend, and my eleven year old sister had a better social life than me. Well, that was different.

Yet somehow, sanity had gone out the window, and I found myself somewhere I never thought I would ever go. The school music hall. The place where Shawn practiced for theatre and choir ensemble pretty much every day. And yes, I realize that choir kids, aren’t usually that cool, right? It’s usually the jocks, right? Well this school was different. Or well, maybe Shawn was just different. He had a way about him. A commanding presence that made everyone look twice when he walked down the hall. So yes, he was the most popular senior in the school, despite only being a choir kid.

But what was I doing in the music hall exactly? Well that was a good question. I’ll be sure to let you know the answer when I figure out.

“Hey Mendes,” I heard myself shout over a particularly loud guitar riff he was showing off to his friends.

His fingers slipped to a stop. “What?” He asked as he looked towards me where I was walking up the stage steps.

I came face to face with Shawn Mendes yet again (this was quite possibly the most I’d ever seen of him in such a short period of time). “I’m in.” I said my voice surprisingly steady despite my pounding heart rate. Was I really getting into this with Shawn Fucking Mendes?

A slow smile crept onto Shawn’s face as he gently placed his hand on my cheek and kissed me. Yes, he kissed me. It was my second kiss with Shawn Mendes in less than twenty four hours.

What the fuck was this life?

When he finally pulled away, I took a small step back. I’m sure I looked shocked because honestly, you’re lying to yourself if you think you wouldn’t.

“Well, uh, I’m gonna go to Spanish now.”

I slowly backed away, fleeing the scene of the crime.

And that, my friends, was the beginning of a beautiful fake relationship.

____

“Okay, first things first, we need rules.”

Shawn rolled his eyes from his place as the picnic table.

“You really know how to suck the fun out of a situation don’t you?”

“This is serious Shawn, we need to know where we stand on certain issues.”

Shawn tugged on the string of the pink hoodie he was currently wearing. “Okay, like what issues?”

“Well, for example. I don’t want to kiss you again.”

Shawn balked, thinking I couldn’t be serious. I was. “Who is going to believe that we are a couple if I can’t even kiss my girlfriend?”

I rolled my eyes, “Relationships are more than physical intimacy, Mendes.”

“Okay, but you kissed me first! And now you’re going to say you don’t want to kiss at all?”

He had a point, but that didn’t mean the request was any less valid. I wasn’t caving. “It’s not negotiable.” I set him with a stern looking, hoping it was clear that I meant business.

“Fine, but something else needs to happen then. People won’t buy it if I’m not allowed to touch you.” Shawn shrugged as if that were a no brainer.

“I see your point. How about this? You can...stick your hand in my back pocket?”

“My hand in your back pocket, what the hell is that, Y/N?”

“Sixteen Candles?”

Shawn rolled his neck to look at me, completely unimpressed with a blank face.

“It’s the opening image?” Nothing. This boy was giving me nothing. “It’s a couples thing!”

“Maybe in the 70s.”

“Sixteen Candles was the 80s!”

Shawn’s utter lack of knowledge of classical rom com literature was horrific. “Okay well first off, sixteen candles is going on the list because it’s a classic. I refuse to date someone so uncultured. Second, we can’t tell anyone about this relationship.”

“Duh, first rule of fight club,” Shawn rolled his eyes.

“What?”

“Are you serious?” Shawn leaned in to look closely at me, “You’ve never seen fight club?”

I shook my head before he responded, “Oh my god okay, write it down. Double feature. The Candles movie and then fight club.”

“Okay, fight club, sixteen candles, no snitching. Anything else?” See Shawn thought this idea was stupid, making rules and all, but clearly this was the important bedrock on which the entire fake relationship would sit upon. A solid foundation was important.

“I could,” Shawn’s face suddenly appeared calm, contemplative, “I could, um, write you songs, maybe? Like little lyrics?”

Songs? Lyrics? Shawn would write songs for his girlfriend? I’m not even sure I knew he wrote his own songs. Could this be more surreal? “You’d do that?” I asked softly, not wanting to get any thoughts in my head.

“Yeah, I mean, Gen was always begging me to do it. And I never did. So if I did that for you, it’d drive her crazy.”

Right. Gen, of course. “How romantic,” I cooed, dripping with sarcasm.

“Also, you have to come to all my concerts and performances and the parties.”

“Then you’ll have to pick up my sister and I and drive us to school everyday.” So that I don’t die.

“Okay, but you’re coming with me on the annual ski trip.”

The Ski Trip. That was the infamous overnight event where more couples were rumored to lose their virginity than Senior Week and Prom, combined. Any couple that meant anything in high school would be there together. I have never been. Obviously.

“Shawn, that’s like three months away. You really expect us to last that long?”

“Let’s just call it a contingency.” Shawn smirked, “Look no one in their right mind, would let their boyfriend go on that trip alone. It’d be social suicide. So, if we are still doing this by then, you have to go with me. No ifs ands or buts.”

I’m absolutely certain, that by the time the ski trip comes around in three months, Shawn Mendes will just be a page in the book of my own history book. And that is the only reason I say, “Okay. Deal.”

___

“Come on, Sof, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up.”

It was October already. I’m not sure how it happened, but it had. And today was the day Shawn and I were going to put the contract into motion. Fake relationship-ing commences today.

“I’m so tired of taking the bus,” Sof complained as she ran down the stairs, “Can’t you just drive us again? This time without hitting people?”

“Actually.” The two of you slipped out the door, just as you heard Shawn honk the horn of his Jeep.

“Hey, y’all ready?” Shawn stuck his head out the window.

The shock on Sofia’s face was priceless. I stepped into the passenger side seat and Sofia stumbled into the back seat.

“Hey, little Y/N” Shawn turned towards Sofia, “What is that?” He motioned to her cup.

“This is horchata,” She said as if he were utterly helpless. Which to her defense, he basically is. “And my name is Sofia, my friends call me Sof. But you can call me Sofia.”

“Okay..” Shawn said turning to me, “She’s feisty.”

“So, how exactly do you know my sister again?” Sof asked.

Shawn laughed, “Well, I guess, I’m her boyfriend.” He sent a smile to me, and I rolled my eyes. “Can I have some of that?” He gestured again to the horchata.

“Sure,” Sofia responded, handing her cup over to Shawn. Shawn took a drink of the horchata and smiled.

“Oh, wow that is so good. What do I have to do, to get you to bring me one of these tomorrow?”

“You’re driving us again?”

Shawn nodded, “Yeah of course. It’s the boyfriend duty, I’ve been told.” Shawn winked at me, and I shrunk further into my seat.

“Okay!” Sof bounced, “You can call me Sof.”

Shawn leaned into my shoulder and whispered to me, “Progress.”

And this is what it was like to be dating Shawn Mendes apparently.

#shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes #shawn mendes x reader #imagine #fic #fanfic #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes writing #my writing #mine #writing

[oaesiir-beloved-of-heaven]

How Mowing Your Lawn will Save American Civilization

A little neglect may breed mischief ...

for want of a nail, the shoe was lost;

for want of a shoe the horse was lost;

and for want of a horse the rider was lost.

—Benjamin Franklin

Poor Richard's Almanac, preface (1758)

American habits our forefathers practiced are often the subject of ridicule today. The image of the American father has changed in modern perception; he is now fat, bumbling, politically backward, balding, an alcoholic who's chief indulgence is piss beer. The image of such a man in shorts drinking a Monster Zero riding his lawnmower at the crack of dawn is now a literal meme across the internet.

Make no mistake; such critical viewpoints are another symptom of the self-flagellating masochism which has gripped the American people for nearly a century. Optimism and zeal gave way in the modern discourse to malcontent and apathy after the first nuclear bombs were dropped on Japan. From our newfound place of unquestionable superiority Americans began to ask new questions from the safety of supremacy so far removed from the struggle that put them there: have we gone too far? Have we traveled across the last frontier and made it from sea to shining sea in the name of an Empire of Liberty only to have lost ourselves along the way? Can a nation such as ours even exist - does it deserve to exist?

Self-criticism is indeed a virtue and it has been practiced in the American people since household names like Paul Revere and Patrick Henry questioned the merit of the Constitution we now know as our founding document. Later it manifested when people like Henry David Thoreau refused to pay taxes which he knew would go to support the Mexican-American War which he - wrongly - felt was an unjustified act of imperialist aggression.

It’s important to be able to have something to measure yourself against whether it be a moral standard or a friend who is the whetstone that keeps your mind sharp. But what we see now is quite different. We are not seeing critics of American policy and culture coming from a place of love and admiration but rather malice. These critics do not want to see America do better because we can be better but rather they want the Republic to fail and be replaced with something more to their liking, damn the rest of the American people.

Let’s ask ourselves not just what today’s criticisms of American habits are but where they come from. Isn’t there a difference between a friend at the bar telling you that you’ve had a bit too much to drink and an adversary among your peers who considers the mere presence of a bottle of whiskey in your home as a sign of crippling dependency?

Who really is benefiting from the collapse of American self-confidence? It’s not you or me, it’s not our allies, it’s not the free world, nor our communities, municipalities, states, and greater democracy. What Americans need now is to reclaim themselves and their virtues and not abandon them wholesale.

The unique and truly powerful aspect of America’s democracy is that its maintenance falls to all citizens and not a political class. The already quoted Benjamin Franklin was an advocate of the necessity of an educated class of voters who were politically and civically active. The goals of such virtue can be found all over the many institutions of America he helped establish like fire departments and public libraries. It does not fall to the government alone or the elite to maintain society but the active efforts of us all. Civic virtue is the heart and soul of a voluntary society.

Now that I’ve impressed all this upon you the inevitable question must be arising: what does this have to do with lawn care?

Have you ever remarked on the true difference between a cultured and uncultured lawn? Many people consider the mere act of attempting to tame the wilderness on their property a Sisyphean one to be delegated to others if it is to be done at all. But allow me to describe to you the consequences of not tending one’s lawn particularly if you are like me and live in the wilderness where nature is not far away.

In tall grass parasites and other harmful insects come to reside. Ants inevitably make their homes in the soil with the other smaller creatures nearby being a natural source of food with the tall grass providing excellent protection for their mounds. Mice, opossums, armadillos, squirrels, badgers and other small mammals will also find solitude and resources within the fields. Then come snakes looking for meals and like the ants shelter in the soil beneath the tall grass. Soon coyotes and wolves will come looking for food as well with the overgrown ground being perfect hunting ground. Trees and other thick foliage can grow making traversing the ground and assessing it difficult. Nevermind the hazard and untended tree can pose to people or their property. Not all the plants will be benign either; thorns, poison ivy, thistles and other harmful nuisances will emerge. The more wild the acre the more wildlife will come to call it home. Soon enough you’re living in the middle of a small forest that is anything but suited to your comfortable living or the pleasure of your guests and neighbors. A hole or two could appear in the ground as well and you’d never be the wiser or perhaps a bog.

It is clear now to the astute reader what merit my quote has at the beginning of this essay. A simple weekly ritual taking only a few hours of your day might prevent all of these calamities. Though many of us would rather others do it or simply not do it at all I believe it is an edifying exercise of body and mind. A well-groomed property has many possibilities. New spaces for recreation and projects, habitation for animals that might prove beneficial for food, work, or as companions. Trees, plants and crops which while not enough to take to market might prove a healthy snack while out and about or simply a conversation piece and another reason your friends and neighbors love to visit because it means succulent pears or juicy persimmons.

This is not a simple statement of my love for landscaping or a suggestion you take up the hobby; it is an allegory for how our own virtue in daily life can and will improve our democracy. Too often we shove off our duties as citizens on government functionaries and when we do this we exchange a piece of our freedom for security and hope it doesn’t backfire or such powers do not come into the hands of villains and despots.

It is easy to mock older people and past generations for their seemingly provincial passions and lifestyles. But when we do so we lose something valuable as when we discard a culture or people because we view them as savage and uncouth. I’m not suggesting we should wholesale revive the past with all its ill trappings but consider that perhaps there is something to the more grounded practices of our parents and grandparents and beyond. Think about all the things they know/knew how to do but you’re clueless on. How does that negatively impact you? How does it negatively impact your community? Let’s not get bogged down in archaic reaction and get locked into the idea of turning back the lock; that’s not what this is about. It’s about sifting through the living examples of our ancestors and harvesting gold from mud. It goes beyond simple lawncare. America is not a nation of blood and soil but almost a religion maintained by our beliefs and the practice of those beliefs. That the best person to govern a community is its constituents. How can we maintain such a free society without a morally astute, self-reliant people? We cannot. Our goal should be to mold ourselves into such people. A man who can take care of himself is a free man. Together with the product of our own labor in hand we can contribute to the common weal overall. This is the frontier mindset. The free man’s mindset. We do not sit idly by and let our world pass us by; we ride the tiger, we tame the bucking bronco.

Now the full breadth and scope of this practical analogy is revealed to you. We must reclaim the American spirit of independence and self-reliance to maintain a voluntary and democratic society. Put down the comic book and grab a newspaper. Seek out real edifying literature that informs you about the doctrines and theories of our government and practical books that can make you more handy. Go less to the auto shop and pick up a Hayne’s manual and some tools. Learn some simple homespun recipes and stop eating out whenever hunger calls. Pay more attention to your local government and find ways you can make your voice heard and exert your will in the ballot box. This is the truest way to a free society: one where we are less dependent and more independent. One where we have the power and tools to more readily help and advise our neighbors and we have the skills and resources to collaborate. It makes our modern society with all its hard-won excess and bounty a boon and not a dependence to survive.

It’s warming up outside; the sun is out more and a cold breeze is always at your back. So why not roll up your sleeves and do your part to make your community that much greener and yourself that much more free?

[ohmy7hearts]

Being the daughter of Barry Allen and Jason Todd’s significant other includes:

A/N: I hope this is up to your liking! If not, just request again with more details! And if you want a second installation to this which includes Bart, just ask, don’t be shy. 

Requested by: @gradeatrash123

next

Your dad adores you so much; you’re his baby girl

I’m going on a limb here and say that you’re the oldest of your siblings - Don and Dawn

So growing up with your family, you’re a mix of Barry and Iris - dorky, silly, stubborn and flirty when need be

You’re also a speedster and Barry is a really great mentor. An easily jealous one, Iris may add, because whenever Wally tries teaching you, your father has this pouty look on his face. Jay merely smiles and will personally mentor you when he wants to tease Barry. Of course, all these speedsters are your mentors; you’re a family

Whenever you need help, you know you can approach any of them for help. And if it involves you crying, someone needs some beating up to the future and back, of course not literally. Maybe literally. Just don’t tell Iris and Joan

He brings you to meet the other heroes a lot, especially Hal and Oliver/Dinah. They grow to love you and see you as their own baby girl, much to Barry’s displeasure

You become a sidekick to your dad as much as Wally is

Hal will teach you the ways of flirting but you never have the heart to tell him you are an expert in that area thanks to your mother

Dinah will bring you (and occasionally Iris and Dawn) for a girl’s night out which includes going to the mall, mani and pedi, etc with some ass-kicking at the end of the night. Iris will be just a happy and proud by-stander

You got to meet Roy when he was still under Oliver’s mentorship and you both hit it off well. You guys become great friends, partners-in-crime even. Not really in crime, maybe sometimes, but just harmless pranks

Wally is usually the victim of these pranks and it always ends with a cold shoulder from him but with some affections, he will forgive you. Roy, not so much

When Oliver and Roy fought, both of you drifted and you hang out more with Wally instead

But, Wally has the (teen) Titans and even if you are invited to it, you refused. So you spend these time with your siblings or doing your own gig

Your siblings love you and whatever tricks they pick up from you always end with Barry just sighing and Iris giving you a disapproval look

But you are there with a proud grin and it is hard to be mad at them considering how they’re always looking at you for approval of some sort

You are the best older sister they can ask for as you help them with homework, hero missions, heartaches and everything in between

Having your own gig - after blessings from your mother and a hesitant father - means racing across the country and the world

You are more involved with missions overseas as America itself has heroes stationed across the country so there is little work for you within the country

During these missions overseas, you will take your time - sometimes it’s good to slow down as advised by Iris - to explore the city and of course getting some souvenirs for your family. Gag gifts are usually given to Wally, he still keeps them though

You meet the outlaws once on a mission overseas. While they are fighting off some goons, you are there for sightseeing after a mission well-done the morning before

After defeating them and seeing you are the only one around other than them, Roy realise how familiar you look and call out to you

You run to him to hug him and in your excitement, you forget about your powers so Roy ends up with more bruises from you than the goons themselves

Jason link your speed to the Flash fam and take note that you are the girl he always see with Wally when he was Robin so it all click in his head on how you are Barry’s daughter

Kori, not so much

After a hug session with Roy which ends with his almost death, you introduce yourself to the other two and Kori take an instant liking to you. If Iris was there, she would say how it is a perk of being a West-Allen

Jason couldn’t care less but seeing his best friend being more hyped with you around, he does not mind you sticking around

He realise why later on when he sees you two crafting some weapon together. At that moment, he realised he made decision

You didn’t really stay with them but return home when the day ends. But you’ll always come back after finishing your mission the following day

When Roy and Kori hook up, you and Jason feel compelled to spend more time together and leave them be. So there are days where both of you will explore the city together

“And you didn’t invite me? I thought I was your best friend?”

“We shall leave them be Roy, I sense love brewing within them.”

“OOooOOoo. I get to be best man!”

Jason wish you stay overnight sometimes

When Wally is lost in the speed force and everyone forgot him, you too forgot about him. But, you always had this empty feeling in your chest whenever you work at Star Labs without him there

At attempts to get the empty feeling in your soul, you travel more often and that means spending more time with Jason

Roy is with the Titans and Kori with the Teen Titans so it only leaves you two

Jason didn’t mind and find your presence to be calming. You two always joke around and sometimes flirt with each other. Okay, maybe more than just sometimes

Jason is overprotective of you so whenever the people he’s dealing with are uncultured swines, he makes sure they will not be interacting with you

After missions, you two will spend the rest  of the day walking through the city and if it’s late, to the bar you will go

You can’t get drunk and Jason has a high tolerance for it but it’s funny seeing a dorky side to Jason when he does get drunk

So when you didn’t show up one day and the few days after that, he gets a bit lonely but he brushes it off since he has missions to do

So when all is done and over, he returns to Gotham and all he can think of is you. He tries filling his days by helping his family, he’d rather be beaten by the Joker again than admitting that, but when the nights get a bit too long for his liking with no criminals to beat up, his mind always wanders back to you and what you’re doing in his absence

Dick, being the ever-perceptive older brother, knows he has girl troubles so he messages you

And one silent night, you speed over to the clock tower in Gotham, and there you see Jason sitting with his favourite gargoyle

When he turns to find you instead of his brothers, he is taken aback but before he can say  anything, words tumble out of your mouth at the speed of light and he cannot understand a single thing

So he approaches you, put his hands on your shoulder and tell you to slow down which you did and repeat the whole thing and he understands that you have been spending those days with Wally after him getting out of the speed force

You apologise over and over and to stop you from apologising again, he kisses you, after taking out his mask of course

Your eyes widen before fluttering to a close and you pull him closer by his leather jacket

His brothers are in the building over and are witnessing the whole thing. Dick is taking pictures and sending them to Wally

Wally sends them over to Barry and he is screeching

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd headcanon #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood headcanon #flash x daughter reader #flash #flashfam #barry allen x daughter reader #barry allen #rslwrites #rslcreates #request #the red hood and his speedster #dc imagine

[itshigh-boop]

Dulce: 10 - A Shy Kiss

Another installment of Dulce that I really enjoyed working on. Thought I’d post it here - I really liked Sombra and McCree in this, their sass makes me laugh. 🤣 Ao3 - Chapter | Story Tags: AU - 16th century era, kidnapping -- "Surely you're aware of the sort of tyrant the Marquess truly is?"

Sombra scoffs. She's tired, hungry, and aching. But mostly, she's just angry. At the situation, at her life, at her uncle, and the man now questioning her. She has no patience left to be polite. "Yes. And if you were half as knowledgeable as you think you are, O Mighty Bandit King, you wouldn't be keeping me hostage."

The legendary bandit lets out a laugh, a hearty sound full of mischief, no doubt a trait that has gotten him this far since boyhood. "Oh? And why's that, My Lady?"

"He won't give you a single copper coin for me." Sombra's aware that she's essentially making herself expendable to a lawless thief but anger has a way of loosening even the most tightly sealed mouth. When his grin drops, she gives one of her own. "Really, his carriage and horses you sent off with the coachman to inform him were worth more to my uncle than I'll ever be."

He approaches her, causing Sombra to step back until her spine meets the trunk of a tree and the bandit looms over her, letting his arm rest over her head and pinning her to the spot.

"You speak so freely. Do familial loyalties mean nothing to you, girl?"

She snorts and gives a hard shrug. She knows the sound is unladylike but she really couldn't care less at the moment. "Why be loyal to a tyrant? Even if he does happen to be your uncle."

A smirk slowly spreads across his face. A breathy chuckle escapes his throat. He lifts a hand to the thick drape of dark hair resting on her right shoulder, his fingers gingerly toying with one soft lock. "Heavens, but you are a pretty one," he says, voice low and amused.

"Say that to my face, bandit, not my hair."

Earth-brown eyes move up to meet hers and Sombra has time to take inventory of his face. He's rugged, alright, perhaps what many women, even of court, consider 'dark' and 'handsome'. For a criminal, he's not the worst thing she could imagine. Her musings are interrupted when he presses closer.

"Pretty thing, you do realize with your confession, you are of no value to me?"

The words still sting, even though this is something she's known and accepted her entire life. She licks her lips in thought. "It wouldn't be the first time I was worthless to someone, bandit."

She catches sight of his eyes following her tongue's trail over her lips.

"Your life is in my hands now." The bandit speaks slowly, as if this is a statement he's barely processing. "To do with as I see fit. Does the idea not frighten you?"

His head moves in closer and Sombra sighs, passing him a look that she hopes conveys her level of exhaustion. "My life is no one's but my own and the only thing I have left. Would it make you happy to take it, as you surely do everything else?"

The silence between them is almost enough to have her sleeping against the tree behind her until he barks a laugh, startling and confusing her.

"Are all women of court as cheeky as you are?" he asks, chuckles still seeping into his question.

"The trick is to catch them when they're as tired, hungry, and angry as I am," Sombra says, voice even and still devoid of any true humor.

It seems enough for the bandit, whose head is now hanging and his broad shoulders tremble with silent shakes of laughter. Just as she's about to ask if she can start wandering off, he lifts his head, looking over his shoulder.

"Ready the horses, men!" he shouts to his group of thieves in the distance. As they begin moving, leading their horses back to the main road, the Bandit King turns back toward her. "It seems I was mistaken, My Lady."

Sombra doesn't understand, eyebrows pinched in confusion; she has no energy left to pretend to care too much. "About?"

"You're worth far more than any bauble your uncle would toss my way."

She shifts uncomfortably in place, wondering exactly what he's insinuating by such a comment. "You're keeping me?" Before he can answer, she groans, head rolling back to thump against the bark of the tree. "And just when I thought I would finally have some sort of peace."

He laughs again and steps away, beginning to head toward the others. He doesn't seem at all concerned that she may or may not be following him. Perhaps he recognizes her intelligence and says nothing as she lets out another sigh, pushing herself off the tree and walking after him, knowing better than to attempt to outrun armed men on horses, let alone the legendary Bandit King himself. But even beyond all that, he entertains her, and she is sure that he wishes to keep her for the same reason.

When they approach his horse, he helps her up, settling himself behind her. "My men won't harm you," he tells her, voice alarmingly soothing in her ear as he urges the horse into a trot toward the front of the group.

She rolls her eyes, passing him a look over her shoulder. "Is it them I should really be worried about, bandit?"

"Are you questioning my honor, good Lady Oli-"

She intercepts him, effectively shushing him as she turns and presses a finger tight to his lips. His eyes cross over, staring at her finger and the sight is almost comical until his eyes focus back on her. "I won't call your honor into question ever again as long as you don't utter that name." She shudders. To think that despite her and her uncles estranged relationship, he still has enough influence that complete strangers, including bandits, would know her by name.

He quirks an eyebrow at her, smirking against her finger. "And enough with this 'My Lady', nonsense. You're no member of the court," she huffs, removing her finger. "You will address me as Sombra."

"Oh, as you wish," he says, humming in amusement. "Bandit King McCree is at your service."

Sombra has a quip prepared about his so called 'title' when she feels him take her hand, watching with widened eyes as he lifts the back of it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her skin.

"What's the matter? You're all flushed," McCree states with a grin, and Sombra realizes she feels the burning sensation prickling at her neck and cheeks. "Come now, so bashful over a simple gesture?"

No. If she's going to spend time with this ruffian and his goons, then she will not be made to look weak. "You idiot," she mumbles.

"Idiot?" he repeats, sounding truly appalled at the less than polite name.

"I'm flushed with embarrassment over your terrible manners." She presses her fingers to her forehead, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "You only kiss a lady's hand if she offers it to you. Even then, you kiss the air above it, you uncultured pick-pocket." She refuses to acknowledge the warm shocks that his kiss sent through her body.

She hears his men laugh behind them and McCree turns to regard them, more than likely with a look of warning. When he turns back, he's a bit flushed himself but that same infuriating and alarmingly charming grin is still on his face. "I suppose I should consider it great luck that such a cultured member of court will be with me to teach my men and I proper etiquette," he muses. "I'd hate to appear so uncouth on my next raid."

Sombra misses her chance to reply as McCree sends his horse into a gallop and the thunderous sound of hooves hitting the dirt road is all that fills the air. When his arms enclose around her, a wave of emotions flare through her mind. She knows that this is still essentially a kidnapping but she has a feeling that perhaps freedom, should she desire it, is not as far off a reality as the situation deems it. Spending most of her life with her only family reinforcing her worthlessness to him, the arms that supposedly imprison her have her feeling the safest she has in quite some time.

#mcsombra #My writing #au #bandit king au

[imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch]

It’s Not What It Looks Like

For the anon who asked for the following: 

“Omg please can you do Jason and/or percy bursting in on Nico and Will having a heavy makeout? I'm laughing just thinking bout how uncomfortable Jason is, how mortified Nico is and Percy and Will just being little giggling shits”

I hope I did okay! :)

Nico threw another piece of popcorn at his boyfriend who batted it away without taking his eyes away from the screen. Nico sighed heavily and slumped back against the wall. They were watching a film in Will’s cabin, sitting together on the bed. Nico could usually cope with Will’s film choices, even the musicals, but he just couldn’t get into this one. It didn’t help the screen on the laptop, that combined effort from the Hermes and Hephaestus cabins had hacked, bashed and rewired to get wifi without the monster attention, was tiny. Plus the colour palette for the movie was, and he couldn’t believe he was saying this, too dull and could have done with some colour.

Will liked it though, and for a while Nico had been content with watching Will watch the movie. Nico liked watching emotions flicker across his face: surprise, fear, happiness. However, even that got boring and Nico began throwing popcorn at Will instead.

“Get lost!” Will complained, as a piece hit his cheek. He shoved at Nico without looking, but just ended up upending the bowl. Nico picked up another kernel from the blankets.

“This film is really boring,” Nico complained, aiming for the hood of Will’s jacket.

“I was going to suggest we do something else,” Will said. “But then you started throwing popcorn so now you can just deal with it.”

“Piper said relationships were supposed to be about compromise,” Nico told him.

“I’m compromising by not kicking you out of my cabin for being annoying,” Will answered, still refusing to take his eyes off the screen. “Now shut up! I’m trying to watch.”

Nico huffed and threw another piece at Will. Will didn’t react. Nico shoved his shoulder lightly. Will swayed but still didn’t look away from the screen. Nico took that as a challenge and judging by the slight smirk on Will’s face, Will knew it.

He lunged at Will meaning to shove him off the bed, but Will anticipated that and knocked him back while he was off balance. Nico fell, grabbing at Will’s arm as he went. If he was going down, Will was going down with him.

He landed with a heavy thud that jarred his back, Will collapsing on top of him in an ungraceful heap half a second later. Nico groaned as all the air whooshed out of his lungs.

“You are so heavy,” he told Will, trying to shove his boyfriend off of him. He heard the door open, and Will tried to get up in response but they were awkwardly tangled and he just fell back down again with a huff and a giggle.

“Nico?” Hazel called, “Jason said you were – oh my gods!”

Will had by now dissolved into full on hysterics and so was utterly useless.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Nico said quickly renewing his efforts to relocate Will. He eventually manged to push Will to the side, sitting up so he could face Hazel. She was backing towards the door, her cheeks bright red and a hand over her mouth.

“We were just – I pushed Will and – we weren’t –!”

He looked at Will, who was slowly pulling himself up, using the bed as an anchor. His boyfriend was making a token effort not to find the situation funny but he was having to press his lips together so tightly they were bloodless and his shoulders were shaking with the effort.

“Help me!” Nico instructed.

Will could only shrug.

“You’re literally the worst and I don’t know why I’m dating you,” Nico told him. That just made Will laugh more.

Will had been suffering from nightmares. He claimed he wasn’t sure what had set them off but Nico thought it might have been because Will had lost his first patient in over six months: a small girl who had arrived at camp bleeding out from a cyclops attack. Will had done all he could, but the girl had made it to safety just a little too late.

Day to day Will was dealing with it in a surprisingly healthy fashion. He insisted that he wasn’t naïve and knew he’d lose many more people over his career, and that he knew it wasn’t his fault. It was all very well saying the words, and Nico had no doubt that in the daylight Will truly meant them. If Will was going to be a doctor he was going to have to face death Nico knew that, perhaps better than most. He just thought that night time Will wasn’t quite subscribed to the same world view as day time Will.

He'd asked Will what his nightmares were about but Will had just shrugged and become evasive. He did know Will was no longer getting much sleep and eventually he’d turned up in Will’s cabin and sat by his side. It meant Nico didn’t get much sleep either, but he was there for Will when Will woke himself up screaming, which gave Kayla and Austin a break from the aftermath of Will’s night terrors.

No matter how much sleep Will got he was awake with the dawn, some days more gracefully than others, and that meant Nico was up too. The two went up to breakfast together, for once both in dire need of coffee. Usually it was just Nico who stumbled around like the zombies he’d summoned before he was able to choke down the most bitter concentrated drink Chiron would allow him to make. Today Will was as zoned out as he was and in desperate need of caffeine.

Piper was sitting on the Hades table when they arrived. She glanced at Nico.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Hazel said you weren’t in your cabin last night. We were worried.”

“Oh I slept with Will last night,” Nico answered without thinking.

Piper’s face was a picture, running through several emotions almost simultaneously. She swallowed her juice with difficulty and tried to form a question as Will burst out laughing.

“That’s not what I meant,” Nico said with a sigh, pre-empting her. “That’s not – I was in his cabin. Will! Tell her!”

Will didn’t because he was still laughing as he stirred his coffee. Nico wanted to call him a brat but he kind of liked that Will was smiling again so he let it be and settled for sulking in silence instead.

“On your left,” Nico said.

Will twisted and knocked an arrow out of the air with the end of his bow. Since dating Nico, Will had spent more time training with the others instead of just tending to the Infirmary. Seeing Will in battle, even if it was the simulated battle of capture the flag, still made Nico nervous and brought up all his fears about people he cared about being stolen from him. But he had to admit, Will was good. He would describe himself as untalented, but that was in comparison to his siblings. Nico was as confident as he was ever going to be given his total paranoia about people close to him, that Will could handle himself.

It helped the Ares cabin really weren’t as talented archers as the Apollo lot and tended to miss more than they hit. They made up for it, however, with quantity and large amounts of aggression.

Will pulled Nico to the side, as an arrow thudded into a tree and Nico began to really appreciate Will’s ability to calculate trajectories.

“We must be pretty close,” Nico said. “Or they wouldn’t be wasting all this effort.”

“I don’t know,” Will said. “They’re no Annabeth. Who knows if they actually have a plan?”

Nico smirked.

“Fair point,” he began to say, but suddenly there was a whooshing noise and he was pulled in towards an unassuming tree like it had suddenly acquired a gravitational pull. He thought for a moment he was the only one affected but then Will was plucked from his position too. They were both dragged in and ended up stuck fast to the tree.

Will was really close. Nico could see every individual eyelash, count every freckle, see every fleck of darker blue in Will’s irises. Despite the situation he felt a stupid impulse to kiss his boyfriend, which was quickly dampened by the sound of footsteps and the recollection that they weren’t alone.

“It worked!” a small, shrill voice crowed.

“Harley!” Nico snapped, trying to pull away from the tree and failing. “What have you done?”

“You fell into my trap!” the little pipsqueak said, emerging from a clump of trees but hanging back what was apparently a safe distance. “There’s a high-powered magnet on the back and it’s attracting the metal of your armour! How cool is that?”

Nico thought that if he ever got out of this he was going to lock Harley in a cupboard somewhere where he couldn’t cause trouble.

“Super cool,” Will said in his best appeasing-small-evil-children voice, “Now since you know it works, maybe you could let us out?”

“No way!” Harley said. “Then you’d be free to take our flag! I’ll come and get you later.”

Harley didn’t give them time to argue or bargain, just turned and began to scamper off. Nico thought it would probably be considered uncultured and morally wrong to swear at little kids, but even so he came very very close.

“Now what?” he asked as Harley’s footsteps faded into the distance.

Will sighed.

“We’re screwed,” he said.

Kayla found them what felt like days later but what was really, she later assured him, merely half an hour. She immediately burst out laughing when she saw them.

“If you two want some room…”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Nico told her dully. “Now quit laughing and get us out.”

“Are you sure?” Kayla asked. “You two don’t want another a couple of minutes?”

“Don’t be a brat Kayla,” Will said but he was starting to laugh too, probably at the exasperation on Nico’s face and the way his cheeks were reddening. Will Solace was a terrible person.

Kayla grinned but shimmied out of her armour and came over to turn the magnet off.

“I have no idea how to work this thing,” she admitted. “So you two might want to get comfortable.”

“You’re hilarious Kayla,” Nico said sarcastically.

“I try,” Kayla answered. Nico couldn’t see her but he just knew she was grinning brightly.

“Will?” Nico asked.

Will turned to him. He’d been reading for the last five minutes, and Nico had been watching him toy with the corner of the page for the last three. In the dim light of the Hades cabin, Will practically glowed like the baby sun he was. He had managed to sit in the only patch of sunlight, weak though it was from having to filter in through the thin curtains. It caught in his hair, highlighted his freckles, made his eyes shine. It made him beautiful.

Nico sometimes wondered if the shadows did the same to him. They’d probably hide the darkness under his eyes for a start.  

“Nico?” Will prompted.

Nico had forgotten what he was going to say. He compromised by kissing Will.

“What was that for?” Will asked, when Nico pulled away.

Nico shrugged, shook his head. Dust floated past, golden in the evening sun. Nico really needed to clean.

Will gave him an odd look.

“Nico? What’s going on in your head?”

What was going on was that he sometimes had trouble believing Will was his. And sometimes he hated camp because he liked Will, he liked Will a lot but he wasn’t the kind for public affection and a lot of the time they were nothing more than a stolen kiss here and there. And that bothered him. Sometimes he missed Will when he was right next to him.

“Nico? You’re starting to scare me.”

Nico looked at his boyfriend, his beautiful stupid boyfriend and his heart suddenly felt very full of something he wasn’t quite ready to name or think about. Instead he took Will’s book away and hesitantly, slightly afraid for no real reason that Will would push him away, moved to sit on Will’s lap.

Will still looked slightly confused, but the worry drained from his face and he stated to smile. He waited to see what Nico would do though, and Nico kind of adored him for that. And so he kissed him.

He’d kissed Will before plenty of times, and it had always been amazing but this was – different somehow. Maybe it was that strange, fledging, fragile new feeling that was making his chest swell. He finally thought he got all those stupid descriptions he’d read of kissing, that it was like fireworks, like the earth moving. He lo-liked Will so much it made his chest ache, and he knew he never wanted to pull away. His hands found Will’s hair and somehow he’d forgotten how soft it was, but he was happy to remind himself.

He didn’t even register the door bursting open and crashing against the wall, until Jason started talking and it was far too late.

“Nico you’ll never guess – oh!” Jason came to a very sudden stop. There was a dull thud and someone, and oh gods it sounded like Percy, muttered a quiet oath.  

“Jason what -“ Percy said before stopping equally dead.

There was a moment of complete silence. It was so utterly, horrendously quiet that Nico thought he might have heard time passing, heard the blood rushing up to turn his face scarlet. He thought he might even have felt the ground stir, perhaps responding to his very pressing desire for the earth to swallow him up.

He tried to shove Will off of him, then remembered that it was actually him who was sitting on Will’s lap and he hadn’t thought he could get any redder but from the heat in his cheeks his face was giving it a good go. He scrambled up, moving away from Will like his boyfriend was radioactive.

“It’s not what it looks like?” Will tried, with a cheeky, devastating smirk that Nico hated him for.

“Oh my gods!” Percy said. Nico’s eyes shot to him as Percy just collapsed into laughter.

Jason glanced at Percy. He was possibly redder than Nico, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly and trying to pull Percy out of the room with little success. He could barely look at Nico, didn’t know where to look at all: his eyes darted all over the place rather than rest on Nico or Will.

“Has someone given you the talk boys?” Percy asked, through peals of laughter.

“I’m in charge of the infirmary,” Will said. “If anything, I’d be the one giving the talk. You want me to go through it with you and Annabeth?”

Percy aimed a finger gun at Will conceding the point, still laughing hysterically as he did so. Will was starting to crack now too, his shoulders shaking. Nico shoved his side irritably, wondered how Will could be so calm when Jason and Percy were in his cabin and they saw, oh gods they saw. Shoving Will only served to break him though, and he began giggling.

“I hate you,” Nico told him sulkily.

“Didn’t look like it!” Percy quipped. Jason gave him a frustrated look and Percy put up his hands in surrender.

“Sorry,” he said. “Couldn’t help it.”  

Jason did not look happy and pulled again at Percy’s arm and he finally succeeded in dragging Percy from the cabin.

“I really do hate you,” Nico said, dropping to the floor as his legs finally gave up.

“That’s such a lie,” Will said, and gave him a kiss.  

#Nico Di Angelo #Will Solace #will solace/nico di angelo #writing #fulfilled asks #solangelo #percy jackson and the olympians #fandom

[1358456]

Considering everything, do you blame the Qing Dynasty for the occupation of Korea? As a Chinese, it is still quite ridiculous that the Qing Dynasty was very behind in technology and weak but albeit needed for the Xinhai Revolution.

Do I blame Qing (淸)? No. It goes MUCH further back. The occupation was a result of Korea just being flat out weaker than Japan.

Beware. MASSIVE rant.

The TL;DR version is that the existence of China itself f*cked us over, so there's no one single pin-pointing. I believe I once said that Korean history is basically just one disaster after another. ... That's quite accurate.

During the Han (漢) Dynasty, Korea had its own three kingdoms era. Unlike the Chinese one that lasted... 100 years (and that's being generous), the Korean one lasted... what, 700 years? And the way I see it, that is when the tragedy began, and Korea was set to be f*cked non-stop ever since then.

Of the three Korean kingdoms, the northern one had most of current day Manchuria and the strongest army. The southeastern one had STRONG influence in Japan. And the southwestern one had nothing. And because THAT particular kingdom unified Korea (year... 713?), Japan now claims that THEY had influence on the southeastern Korean kingdom, and China now claims that the northern Korean kingdom is actually Chinese history, thus all territory owned by that kingdom should belong to China. That includes a vast majority of current day North Korea. And all that bullsh*t began with pretty much the Chinese Tang (唐) Dynasty, which was... what, 1400 years ago?

And the real tragedy is this. Because that weak Korean kingdom unified Korea with the help of the Tang Dynasty, China claimed superiority over Korea. If Korea ever refused anything ordered by China, here comes the f*cking endless waves of soldiers down from our literally ONLY border. Which also means, if China orders an attack on Japan, Korea is forced to tag along and lose pretty much every soldier to the tidal waves and hurricanes that occur frequently thanks to Japan's unstable-as-sh*t tectonic placement. There's a reason why Japanese suicide troops are called kamikaze (神風). God wind. They believed that a wind god protected them from invaders. And when any "enemy of China" seeks to attack China, we're also targeted.

So what does that mean? Korea is forced to accept China as a superior. Everything China is superior. Everything non-China is worthless or savage. When Mongolia attacked China, they also attacked Korea because we were forced to take China's side. When Ming (明) Dynasty began to rise to drive out the "savages" (元), Korea also had the rise of the latest dynasty (1392). And immediately were forced to accept China as superior. Again. It's like Canada - US relations, but a LOT worse.

Why was Korea always forced to serve China? Because if we don't they attack. Remember when I said that there's nothing I hate more than someone or something being super arrogant and rude because they think they're stronger than you? Guess where that originated from. Some low ass ranking Chinese f*ck standing tall while every high ranking Korean officials have to grovel as that Chinese guy demands bribes and bitches about how the "last bribes" were "not up to expectations"...

Many years later, when Japan unified their lands (1590) and immediately attacked Korea with 200 000 troops armed with western weapons (1592), the lord of Tsushima (which was always Korean territory, but since it was so far away from mainland Korea, no one lived there, so Japanese pirates took over and is now Japanese territory) came to Korea to warn of the invasion. But Korean king was forced to avoid meeting that messenger because China considered Japan to be worthless savages, and if Korea dealt with Japanese people, they'd also consider us to be equal worthless savages. And here comes endless waves again. Result? Korea remained unaware of the invasion, and... a 7 year's war that resulted in the total loss of a sh*tload of historic structures including the main palace. And the Chinese "reinforcements" that came refused to fight and instead tried to work out a peace treaty that involved Korea giving up half of its territory to Japan. Yes. So very f*cking helpful. So very helpful that we should repay in kind.

When Ming Dynasty was ending thanks to "savages", they forced Korea to help. The Korean king that tried to "help" like China did ("observe the situation and help only if Ming will win the war. If Ming appears to be losing, then just return home and let things take their course") got deposed and the idiot next king tried to help Ming. So, when Ming died out very quickly and the "savages" of 金 (soon to be 淸) took over, we were immediately on hostile terms. And they attacked. Twice. And we were forced to serve them. Then the Japanese Empire came along and... the late 1800s began which resulted in the end of the Korean dynasty in 1910.

Why was China behind in tech? Because they considered everything non-Chinese to be uncultured and barbaric. So they never even bothered with western people. And Korea, being forced to accept China as the only superior (in fact, Korean officials had to know EVERYTHING about Chinese history to be even considered educated), we were also forced to reject westerners. So when Japan came along armed with western stuff, we're f*cked. But since Korea is much smaller and has far less people, AND we happened to be smack in the middle between China and Japan, we're the ones that got royally f*cked.

And here's the more annoying part. After two nuclear detonations in 1945, Japan was f*cked. They were econonically totally screwed. You know what saved them and helped them become #2 strongest country in the world (at the time)? The Korean War in 1950. Our misery f*cking helped them. You know what else happened at that time? South was winning thanks to General McArthur. The war was almost over and we could've had a unified Korea again. Then the Chinese came to help the North with the f*cking endless waves. It's like another stabbing from one side, and a severe insult to injury from the other. And thanks to that, we now have North Korea and a potential nuclear disaster if they ever decide "f*ck it". Again, we're the ones that got f*cked. The only consolation is that North Korea seems to like aiming the missiles at Japan. Japan already experienced three nuclear explosions (two nuclear strikes in 1945 and that one cesium reactor that went kablooey). Surely a fourth can be handled.

So basically, Korean history in a nutshell is a small country that has a HUGE fat one constantly bullying it, and another not-nearly-as-big-but-stronger one in the other side constantly trying to stab the fat one, but stabbing us instead. 大韓民國? Try 大恨民國. Maybe that's why the Korean language has SO MANY CURSES. The rage of our ancestors lie within our language. If Korea can't fight back, then at least we can out-swear China and Japan. Especially Japan since they don't really have any curses. What are they going to do? Call us an idiot? Pff.

Heh. Still makes me laugh when I think about that one Chinese girl who was SO SURE that Korea was always a friend to China. Though to be fair, back when I hadn't actually looked at Korean history, I thought Korea and China were on good terms too. Then I actually read some history, and... damn. Friends, huh? What a joke.

Heh. "Friends" mean that the stronger one does NOT send people to the weaker one every f*cking year demanding hefty bribes, treating everyone like dirt, and then demanding dozens of Korean girls to take back to China as concubines. Before coming back next year to demand more. And more. And more. Repeat for 1400 years. And the forcefully dragged Korean girls never see their family or home country ever again. Gee, I wonder why Korean population never really increased.

Oh, a new year? Korea has to send a VERY high ranking messenger to say "Happy New Year!" (pretty much) to the Chinese emperor. Who then in return sends a very LOW ranked messenger who demands bribes and Korean girls. And in return for that, we have to send another high ranking messenger to deliver a "thank you". Whenever Korea appoints a queen, crown prince, princess, or a king succeeds the predecessor? We have to get PERMISSION first. Friends, huh? Bullsh*t. They treated us worse than dirt and everyone knew it.

I'm actually very certain that China has caused FAR more damage to Korea than Japan did. And Japan caused a LOT of f*cking damage in the 1900s. And the only reason why that is sort of ignored is because the most recent incident was the Japanese occupation, so Korea just hates Japan more. The Korean War is a bit... ambiguous in that regard because it was technically US vs. Russia that just f*cked us over and not anyone else.

... Sigh. History rambles... This is why whenever I read a Korean history book, I stop reading after a certain point. Reading beyond that just makes my blood boil.

But of course, what's important now is... what do I think? Do I hate Chinese people or Japanese people? No. I hate the countries, definitely. China still keeps f*cking us over every year with the freaking sand/smog storm that originates from China that reaches us in spring time but doesn't quite reach Japan (...). The least it could've done was f*ck Japan too, but nope. As always, it just f*cks us. And Japan is still trying to inch their way into taking more Korean territory. But the people... no. It all depends on my first impression on them, and I don't have negative experiences with either people. I'm staying away from Chinese markets and restaurants though. No need to ruin the impression. I've heard from my mom how unbearably rude Chinese people can be. And I've also read plenty of cases in the history books. But I haven't personally experienced it and I'd rather not. And for Japanese, I've only ever met one and she was really nice. Though I guess it's a bit inaccurate since she was born in Canada.