#important note: no matter how this post sounds like i am in not an asshole.. i just... like... to make words Go

[leatherbookmarking]

Some thoughts and a fic idea, because of course, about one Meng Yao, relatively unrelated to my previous ones, pleasantly semi-related to the topic of my thesis (once I get into something, it becomes the very air I breathe):

A nice chunk of the motives and problems cql/mdzs talks about is how easy it is to take a person, take some events, and twist them to your own liking, and how, with enough people, it’s enough to ruin someone, point at them and say “this is the fucking satan, lock them up”. And suddenly everything they do becomes evil. They blinked? They did it evilly. Did they help someone? Must have been planned, to get their gratitude and use it in the future.

This just so happens to be the exact problem with dokufu (literally poison women, guys! so subtle), a theme of criminal biography in 19th century Japan, and specifically a certain Takahashi Oden, who, well, killed a man and was sentenced to death for it, as you do. The morning after, newspapers started releasing their own versions of her biography, each claiming theirs is the most hashtag real. The most popular of such biographies has a surprising amount of details, both in descriptions of interiors and Takahashi’s facourite pasttimes as a child; the author also notes that he is but a journalist! and never wastes a chance to bring up how much research he’s done. But at the same time, look at the explanations for the girl’s evildoing: it was because she was Oden, because she was evil by nature, because she was a daughter of a gambler.

Does it ring a bell, everyone!!

And YES I have thought about doing* this concept wrt: Wei Wuxian, how could I not, but the thing is that... he comes back, magically. He gets to fix his fucked up opinion, of course not in everyone’s eyes, because Sect Leader Yao will be Sect Leader Yao, but the people that matters know, the future generations will know, that’s all that matters.

* as if im ever going to get it done! nice laugh we’ve had

Jiggy, though -- the thing with Jiggy is that he did, actually, do the thing. (I mean in the novel, Wei Wuxian also very much did the thing, but this is a cql only city, welp) I kind of doubt anyone would want him back alive in practice. So he’s not fixing anything, because there’s nothing to fix! He is an actual villain!

But to what extent?

I’ve lost this post and I’m going back to despairing about it as soon as I finish writing this one, BUT there was a post that was like, hey, nmj, maybe don’t go accusing jiggy of sneakily breathing and FEIGNING INNOCENCE when CARRYING WATER, it was your horny ass that forgot your brain in the car, and like, nmj’s horny ass aside (for now, but never in my heart), yeah!!! Let me see it!!! Your girl Oden murdered one man, what difference does it make if we write that she helped her husband leave this world as well? She’s already evil and also dead, what is she gonna do, haunt us?

(hm.)

There was another post that showed Jiggy committed... basically every sin there was to commit, look at this efficient dude -- surely someone like this was a monster, huh? Someone who does all that isn’t a person. He did it everything on purpose, with full awareness of his own cruelty, twirling maybe not his mustache, but maybe, idk, well he DEFINITELY twirled something, he was a villain. Chuckling evilly over his tongue tea with his (villainous) bro Xue Yang.

(I am SO !!!!!!!! about this relationship that I already have an annoyingly cute backstory for them in my modern au that will most probably never see the light of day hoooooo man am I spiralling)

But like, we are not Sect Leader Yao or teenagers on twitter. (this is a fascinating combination.) We know that no one is truly evil. So give me a jgy who cared more about the rabbits in Gusu than about his shitty father, but genuinely loved Qin Su. Or, if not -- Qin Su is whatever, whoops, a sister, well, life throws you a curveball sometimes -- but Jin Rusong is something else. He’s his boy. Give me a father who’s ordered his six-years old boy to be murdered. Fuck, give me the nut who killed the man who used to be his friend, g i v e me the fucking madlad who held his brother as he was dying.

Like. At what point do you think Meng Yao sat up in the middle of the night with a thunderclap of realization that he’s gone far enough that there’s no turning back? Was there even a turning back in the first place? How many times had he thought “maybe I should have trusted someone with this”, and with what emotion?

I would like (to write, but mostly think about) a series of The True History Of Jin Guangyao, The Living Demon, each truer than the others, describing in great detail how rotten to the core my dude was, cheerfully incestuous every day on a different surface!, scaring children!, in possession of an aura that made animals distrust him and and rice grow moldy!... All the writers 100% convicted they cracked it, it being the mechanisms of Jin Guangyao’s mind, his motivations as he evilly pretended to be a poor misunderstood son of a whore so the great Nie Mingjue takes pity on him. I want all the bored disciples to like, go all out with that shit.

And I want Lan Xichen to finish his seclusion and tentatively leave his seclusion hut or whatever, only to find out, and wish to immediately go back in. Or! Lan Xichen with his own brush, catching himself almost chewing on it like a junior disciple, because the more he thinks about it, the less things he’s absolutely certain about are there. And there’s no one he can ask.

Or is there?

#tl;dr i have officially lost my mind and it's not even for the villain i thought i would lose my mind for #i mean xy is a delight but i can't even pinpoint a moment in which i went from 'jiggy cool' to 'i am going to think about him all day' #important note: no matter how this post sounds like i am in not an asshole.. i just... like... to make words Go #thinky thots #finally a post worth the tag #or is it? i don't know it's late and i was in the Zone ^TM. as far as i know i might have written it half in polish #re: the last one: apparently both nmj and jgy were somehow sealed/exorcised/etc but ghost nmj and ghost jgy are like... the best? sorry #shut up shrimp

[peaches-and-creams]

The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson: A tale of tea

Pairing: BBC Sherlock x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Tags: fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1388words

Notes: This is written from John's perspective because why not,,, the indented parts are the actual events in the fic, the rest are part of John's retelling. It's a bit lacking since I did it on a whim but I really liked the idea that John would post things like this on his blog, Tell me if you want me to make another John's blog entry. Enjoy :]]]

"I am sure many of you, my regular readers, know of the tale of how Sherlock and I had met. I have shared my recollection of our adventures together, all the bizarre situations we’ve found ourselves in because of cases that interest him. I can safely say that I have gained a little understanding of just how that brilliant mind of his somehow works through the years.

However recently, I’ve been introduced to a friend of his. I know. Surprising, because ––as per his brother ––how many friends do you think he has? A lot, apparently. He forms friendships in the most unusual times, and this friend is no different.

I was told that they met as kids. Contrary to beliefs, Sherlock was very charming as a child. According to Y/N, Sherlock’s friend, he was a people person up until 1st grade –I’m guessing that was when he started doing his deduction thing. They said that it wasn’t until years later that they progressed as friends, when Sherlock helped them prove that they, as a matter of fact, did not cheat on an important exam. In the end, Mycroft had to step in to placate the matter as Sherlock’s guardian (lie) and clear Y/N of the accusation.

But I won’t go into detail on that because this is a tale of how I met Y/N L/N.

It was after Sherlock came back from the dead, months before my wedding. It was somewhat peaceful that day, we were getting fitted for our suits and gowns back in Baker Street when suddenly an unusual fellow walked in. I say unusual because they were dressed in medieval clothes, probably from the 1700s, and carrying a walking stick despite the lack of necessity. “Sorry, mate. We’re on a day off today.” I said, although they ignored me and walked towards Sherlock. I was on alert. Living with someone like Sherlock, you learn that occasionally, he pisses off someone who personally tries to settle things with him. The stranger backhanded Sherlock across the cheek, but he e only raised a hand to tell me to stand down. By now, they’ve noticed that they weren’t alone in the sitting room. They dragged him to Sherlock’s room and harshly closed the door.

“Oh, the neighbors!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, breaking the silence. “Should we be concerned?” Mary asked pointing at the silent room. “Oh, don’t worry. That’s just Y/N, they’ll be out in a minute.” Mrs. Hudson dismisses. “Who’s Y/N?” John asked. Mrs. Hudson laughs. “Don’t be jealous, John.” “Mrs. Hudson, I’m getting married, to a woman, she’s standing in front of you. I am not gay!” John firmly stated. Mary joined her in the teasing. “Y/N is Sherlock’s friend from school. They had an on and off communication for the last 10 years or so because Y/N was in Madrid, teaching. Poor fella, they weren’t here in time for Sherlock’s burial, they grieved alone all this time.” “No! You have been so unfair, Sherlock! I had to find out that you’re alive from Twitter. Then your first mail to me is demanding me to go back to London to play as your date to some stupid wedding!” Y/N’s shouts were heard. “…It’s not stupid.” They could hear Sherlock faintly respond. “Shut it, you don’t get to speak just yet. I mourned you, you asshole. Did you ever stop to think how I felt when I heard that you have died? Which by the way, I found out from Twitter, AGAIN! You could’ve told me it was all fake so I didn’t have to grieve for so long. I’m your best friend for god’s sake, Sherlock!” Y/N sounded mad, disappointed even. But they were also holding back tears, the tears that they had refused to shed out of denial when they received the news of Sherlock’s death. “I know…I’m sorry.” “No, you don’t. You don’t know how hard it was to hear everyone saying you’re a fraud. You don’t know how hard it was to hear you had died. You don’t know how it has been for me you…” Their words died at the end, no longer able to hold their grief, choking out an exhausted cry. It took a lot of apologies and explaining, that the people outside no longer heard, before the two of them calmed down. It was quiet for a few minutes before they both exited the room, both red-eyed from crying. Y/N had slipped on a shirt and a pair of trousers they borrowed from Sherlock, having relieved off their elegantly heavy wardrobe, they say quietly in Sherlock’s chair. “Tea?” Sherlock asks. “Two sugars, please.” They said, holding up two fingers. “Of course.” The sitting room remained quiet, only the sound of the water boiling was heard. John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson had all kept quiet at their end of the room while the seamstress took their measurements, only stealing glances at the two. Sherlock handed Y/N their cup and sat down in John’s chair.

We heard strings of unpleasant words from Sherlock’s room. For a moment, I almost dashed in to possibly save Y/N or Sherlock. Now, I said before that I lashed out at him a bit. But Y/N, I think they were just as close as dragging him back to his grave. Eventually, things became quiet, which worried us for a bit. It didn’t take long for them to come back out. I think they were both crying because their eyes were a bit red and they were sniffling, I don't think it’s bad allergies. I’ve only ever seen him cry a few times, one was when before he jumped (although his face looked like of an ant to me, I know he cried), another was when he pretended not to know how to defuse a bomb to dupe me. But really that wasn’t the most bizarre thing that happened that day. After their little argument, they settled in the sitting room. Y/N had sat in Sherlock’s chair (he never let me on there) and Sherlock made them tea (he won’t even make one for himself).

After a few minutes of silence, I suppose he couldn’t take it anymore, Sherlock proceeded to deduce everything that had happened to his dear friend.

“You arrived yesterday, and since have stayed in Mycroft’s place. You’ve had a limp a few months ago, obviously, you’ve healed. You started at your new work today, you wanted to make an impression on your students. Huh…you’ve broken off your engagement, didn’t like you working?” I remember, these were his exact words because Y/N responded with “Always a delight to meet you, Sherlock.” Which surprisingly sounded genuine. He later introduced them to the rest of us, and since then Y/N had taken my old room after I had wed.

They had managed to manage Sherlock. Seriously, it’s amazing! Yesterday I dropped by because as usual, Sherlock needed someone to do all the “boring” stuff for him, and the flat was almost a whole other place. I had to double-take to make sure I was indeed in 221b. The table where Sherlock did most of his chemical experimenting? Clean. I can smell the chlorine but it was clean! And the fridge, OH, THE FRIDGE! It had actual foods in it and ONLY FOODS. Apparently, Y/N had successfully convinced Sherlock to buy a new fridge for all his bloody equipment. About time someone talked some sense into that intelligent brain of his. Anyway, I’m about to clock in. hopefully you all will be satisfied and stop emailing us about who’s that 3rd fella who accompanies us sometimes in cases, Sherlock complains when these emails pile above his cases." Comments

Oh, don’t be jealous, John. I’m sure Sherlock hasn’t forgotten you! Mrs Hudson Again! I am not gay. John Watson Sure dear. Mrs Hudson John, you’re over-dramatizing everything. A tale for tea? really? Sherlock Holmes I really appreciate you dusting the flat, Y/N. Sherlock never let me touch his things. Mrs Hudson No problem Mrs. H Y/N L/N Y/N is restricting Sherlock’s thinking process theimprobableone Y/N, do not touch the microwave. I have an ongoing experiment in there. Sherlock Holmes Well, you better clean it after. And keep it in your damn fridge, Sherlock. Y/N L/N Great to hear someone has finally managed the great Sherlock Holmes. Mike Stamford

♣︎♣︎♣︎♣︎

#sherlock #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock fluff #john watson #sherlock holmes #bbc #william sherlock scott holmes #i am sherlocked #sherlock fandom #221b #sherlocked #221b baker street #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagines #sherlock imagines #sherlock fic #sherlock fanfic #sherlock au #sherlock reader insert #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock imagine

[the-dragon-hearted]

I feel like we, as human beings should address the one overarching issue of not just the Dream smp fandom, but any place where people come together and discuss things they love. The issue: Debate. Discourse. Deliberation. Okay, that was three issues, but you get the picture. We, as a society (yes I'm throwing the 'S' word out there) need to get better at Debate. I get it, the four-year-olds on political stages have set a horrible example but I am here to give y'all a Tedd Talk on arguments, mostly pertaining to content creators but this can be used in any disagreement you ever hold. How to Properly Hold an Argument without being a Child in 4 Steps: Step 1: Never walk into a Debate expecting to change the other's mind This is a big one and it's one of the hardest to grasp. What? What do you mean? What's the purpose of argument if I don't convince the other they're wrong? The purpose of a debate is to offer your opinion and defend it against the world while you pick another's claim apart. Don't expect to change someone's mind. For your own benefit. If you see an opinion that is absolutely horrendus out there on social media, YouTube, Twitchchat, et cetera... and you click on it to refute it. You need to understand you're not refuting it to change that person's mind, but to display to the rest of your collegues why that opinion is, well... Bullshit. You live in a society where people are Ignorant, Misinformed, Sensationalists, or Trolls. Frankly, against certain people (namely trolls) you can't win. No matter what you say or how 'awesomely' constructed your argument is. You can not and will not win. All you can do is build up an opinion and post it and then suffer what 'deez nuts' jokes you get. Here, an example:

Troll: *insert terrible opinion here* Person A: No. That's wrong for reasons a, b, and c. You shouldn't believe that or spread it. Troll: lol, take a joke will you. You're so sensitive.

Naturally, this would upset you. I would be upset and it's okay if you are too. But you should not under any situation continue to feed the troll. Never expect to change someone's mind and never expect to win, especially against people like this. There is no winning in an argument, there's only hurt feelings and over-used claims. The best you can hope for is for your argument to sound and appear as the best option/opinion. Alright? Don't attack people and don't reply with pure emotion. Just breathe easier knowing you made a good argument, posted it, and the other is making a fool of themselves. Honestly, who's the fool? The informed person or the twelve year olds laughing about Bofa? Bofa what? Bofa deez - Aaand we're shutting it down there. So now you know what to walk in expecting in an argument. What do you do next? Step 2: Construct a solid Claim DON'T RUN! I SWEAT I'LL BE MORE CONCISE THAN THE ENGLISH TEACHERS OF HIGH SCHOOL! A claim is the core of your argument; the thing you're arguing about. It can be broad, it can be specific, but the most important part is that you stay on topic. Don't lose yourself to ranting. Always re-read what you type and delete any paragraphs that change the topic. For instance, if you're talking about the Dream speed-runs, you probably shouldn't go on a rant about the manhunts as they're two seperate catagegories and you'll look a bit confused. Step 3: Be mature, be concise, and do some research First things first: Don't deflect in an argument simply because you don't know something. Take your time, do research, form an opinion and come back to it. This will give you time to blow of steam AND stay informed. On the same note, absolutely do NOT use red herrings. Red herrings? Oh, that's when you deflect attention from the main topic with a shallow issue that's related. For instance, let's use discourse discusing a content creator's bias against... let's do something stupid like stuffed animals:

Person A: We need to talk about cc!So-and-So and they're Bias against stuffed animals. Person B: Sure, but there are so many children out there who are lacking connection and are never able to get stuffed animals due to strict parents. It feels wrong to only focus on one subject when there's a whole problem out there.

^^ This is a red herring. It's not always this obvious but for the love of all things good, don't do this. Second things second - this is SUPER important. Stop using Ad Hominem attacks in any and all debates. Ad Hominem attacks are the type that personally attacking your opponent instead of focusing on their position. I'm sure you can tell that politicians love that one - but it's actually an immature approach that cheapens your argument. To see it in practice:

Person A: I don't think it's a big deal that cc!So-and-So did blank and I don't see why everyone's making a big deal out of it. Person B: That's because you're a cc!So-and-So Stan. Person A: Well you're just a hater.

Right away you should be able to tell that there was no tangible argument against or for the content creator. Just a bunch of kids slinging mud on their opponents. Calling someone a 'hater' or a 'stan' shouldn't invalidate their opinion or bolster your own argument. Just because someone 'likes' or 'dislikes' something doesn't mean they can't talk about it, it just means they're likely to possess Implicit Bias or a subconcious bias towards something. Implicit Bias isn't a bad thing and it isn't something that invalidates an argument, it's something that should allow you to at least understand the reasoning for someone to hold a position. If you attack someone's personal standing instead of their opinion it only cheapens your argument because people now assume YOU have no idea what you're talking about and all you can do is hiss at your foe like a feral raccoon on drugs. No one wants to agree with a feral racoon on drugs, kind of how no one wants to agree with a politician. So, how can you better form an argument without mudslinging? It's a bit more complicated, but worth it. You research, you think before you type, you stay respectful, and... you listen to Step #4. Step 4: Sometimes. You have to accept that you were initially wrong. This one hurts. It hurts you and your confidence and all you can do is handle it best you can. I've taken debate and been in dozens or "professional arguments" (I hate that phrase) and I have been 'wrong' plenty of times. There's grace in that and it's an important lesson to learn. It is impossible to be right 100% of the time and it's impossible to be infallible. You have to accept that of yourself and those around you. If your opponent accepts they were wrong, do not continue to harp on them. That's cruel. Alternatively, if you realize you were wrong with your claim, you can admit you were mistaken and amend it. It takes a big person to do that and if your opponent has any decency, they'll recognize that. If they don't, congratulations, you've been arguing with a literal child. And now, you know everything about Debate. (That's a lie, but you know the basics and you can do a lot with the basics.) A good friend of mine once said that every opinion out there came from the mouth of both an asshole and an angel and we all have to be one of those things at some point in our lives. Debate, discourse, argument, all of that is hard and it can be straining or even toxic. Take a step back when necissary. Take a deep breath. Know that if you're feeling personally attacked, you're opponent is using immature methods to tear down your arguments. If you're argument is torn down and you don't know what to think, that's okay too. Take a breath, take a break, and allow yourself to mull it over. Forming your own opinion takes time and a clear mental space. You need both. So next time you see a troll, a jerk, an asshole, a hater, or a stan - don't let emotions get the better of you. Remember you are an intelligent person who is capable of forming your own opinions and NO ONE can take that away from you. Think, research, and then type.

TLDR: Don't expect to win every argument, don't expect to be always right, don't divert your opponents attention, don't personally attack your opponent, always be respectful, always do research, never do anything with pure emotion. Remember you're forming your own opinions and that takes time and space so give yourself that when you need it.

That's it! Best of luck Debating~

#This got ranty... my bad #I love y'all #If I get hate for this I'll be surprised and amused so come get it suckers #dream smp fandom #dsmp fandom #fandom #Longest post I ever made #Hope this was helpful to at least one person! #<3

[idw-sonic-fan-blog]

The Mandates

Just wanted to share my thoughts on the pro-ported mandates because they cast a shadow on this comic.

“Game characters cannot have relatives unless they were estabilished in the game canon, i.e. Cream and her mother.”

This one is understandable and you can blame Penders for this. Mind you that most licensed comics of gaming franchises don’t actually delve too much in personal family relationships or expand on them. So this is expected and honestly Sega should have put the screws on Archie decades ago about this.

“Game characters can not die. There are workarounds for this, such as being Mistaken for Dying or "Mistaken For Dead”

Again. Yes. Not a big deal.

“Game characters cannot have wardrobe changes unless approved. Chao Races and Badnik Bases has some characters (mainly the female game characters) wear different clothes for extreme conditions. Male characters remain the same.”

This is a useless rule but whatever. I mean Sega, you are the ones putting bad wardrobe choices on the characters so again it’s whatever.

“Sonic can't be shown getting too emotional (i.e;cry)”

This is one that it complained about because it really wouldn’t matter unless it is called attention to. A lot of superheroes don’t cry. But that doesn’t prohibit them from expressing themselves. IDW Sonic has been sad. He has been pissed. He has been furious.

Is this not too emotional?

Is he not expressing himself appropriately?

I don’t even know why this is brought up. When in this comic has Sonic not been expressive or displaying the appropriate amount of emotion? When did Sonic needing to cry be necessary?

“Game characters cannot enter in a relationship.”

Oh GOD YES. Don’t threaten me with a good time.

“All major Character Development must be approved by SEGA.”

Yeah, of course. Let me remind you that Penders and Archie ruined any strand of trust Sega could have in comic media. They played loose at first and all of the sudden, they are involved in a lawsuit about characters in a Sonic comic that they didn’t even know about. They probably lost a video game business relationship because of it. If they want to be involved in the comics, fine. That means that they are now forced to World Build. They have to invest in it now and not just be like Lucas Films and let anybody do anything with their flagship title.

“Much like the post-reboot of the Archie comic, the words "Mobius" is banned—the planet is simply called "Sonic's World". Unlike the Post-Boot, which allowed the names "Mobian" and "Mobini", anything related to Mobius is banned in this comic.”

…Of course but how about you throw the writer’s a bone and I don’t know, name the fucking planet. If it is not Earth, give it a name.

“Sonic must always win at the end. Even if he and his friends are at the losing end in an overarching story (the Metal Virus arc, for example), they must come out on top when it concludes.”

I don’t even get this rule and the knee jerk hatred for it. Why even have it? Why even share the existence of this rule? Archie Sonic didn’t really lose too bad. It’s more on how you frame a victory. The fact of the matter is that Eggman is still actively trying to conquer the planet. Sonic stops him but Eggman still has control of land and has military installations all over.

This rule is offset by this. While Sonic can’t lose, Sonic can’t completely win.

“Characters and material from other licensed properties (Sonic the Comic, Sonic the Hedgehog (Archie Comics), Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM)', Sonic Underground, the OVA, Sonic X and the Paramount films cannot be used. This rule extends to characters and redesigns done by the current writers. The only exception is Sticks from Sonic Boom, and that's because she was created by SEGA themselves and showed up in non-Boom media, but any ideas regarding her use still need to be okayed by SEGA.”

First off I am glad that Sticks was spared by this rule and I look forward to her eventual inclusion. Second, again, this is not much of a big deal as it was expected. Sorry Freedom Fighter fans but honestly deal.

“Male characters, sans Eggman, can't wear pants, which was also a thing in the Post-Reboot, albeit never explicitly stated. The inverse is also true; female characters have to have some form of lower clothing.”

Okay this is a pedantic rule. It is so weird with how precise it is. Like…huh?

“Classic characters such as Mighty, Ray, Nack/Fang, Bean, and Bark won't appear in non-Classic issues, as Sega doesn't want Classic and Modern Sonic to mix.”

One of the most bullshit mandates fueled by the nostalgia boner fans created. Like this is stupid because Archie Modern Sonic has added more character and depth to all of these mentioned characters than any of the Sega Sonic games they appeared in which only amounts to 1 or 2 at most. Why neuter your own potential stories with this stupid limitation?

“According to Ian Flynn, a specific incident involving Shadow's characterization when he's exposed to the Zombot infection was written in a specific way because of Sega mandating that he be written as an "overconfident asshole rival" character, similar to Vegeta. He later followed up with an explanation that out of every character, Shadow has the most mandates and notes attached to how he's portrayed. According to the podcast, Sega says that Team Dark is no longer a thing. The three members are not a team and they have never worked for G.U.N.; Shadow also doesn't even consider them friends.”

This is my opinion is the worst rule. First it’s contradictory to the character Sega introduced us to. Stop trying to be like Dragon Ball for once and actually be your own thing. It’s one thing if we are changing it because Shadow was unpopular because of his personality. But no one likes this Shadow. People miss the somber but reserved Hedgehog that continued to fight in spite of the world betraying him. Hothead Shadow is a cheap Knuckles. And I don’t even understand why Shadow even has so many mandates when he wasn’t the most egregious offender. Knuckles was.

Also, Team Dark aren’t a thing and Shadow doesn’t even consider them to be his friends. First off that doesn’t even fly in your own games. Who outside of Sonic does Shadow interact the most? Rouge. They have teamed up and were a packaged duo since their inception. When Shadow appeared, Rouge appeared right next to him. If Rouge was in a game, so was Shadow.

Team Dark or just Rouge has fought alongside Shadow in every game they appeared in. Who else does Shadow talk to if not Rouge?

“Sega has stated to Flynn that only male hedgehogs are allowed to go Super with the Chaos Emeralds.”

Except in Sonic Mania.

“Ian isn't allowed to directly reference a game, since the comic is supposed to be its own thing.”

Okay. Not only is this rule stupid. But it’s untrue.

This references the end of Sonic Forces.

The first page of comic.

It has referenced Sonic Adventure, SA2, Sonic Generations , and Sonic Unleashed.

This referencing Shadow the Hedgehog.

I don’t believe this rule exists and even if it did, it is dumbest rule since the whole point of this comic is to base it off the games more. The dumbest rule.

“Knuckles is not allowed to leave Angel Island unless he has a very good reason to.”

For decades, people have complained that Knuckles routinely leaves the island. For decades. Now does this mean Sega is going to 1. Use Knuckles and 2. Amplify the importance of Angel Island and the Master Emerald? No. Again, this criticism should be levied at Sega because they often conveniently forget Knuckles purpose and just hand wave it instead of giving Knuckles more to do on the island like I don’t know, have other entities invested in attacking him.

In summary, here is what I think is going on. Do I think most of these mandates are real? Yes. Given what happened to Archie, I do think Sega is doing some brand alignment. I think they got the clamps on.

But what I think is going on is a Japanese cultural thing called Power Harassment. It is normalized abuse of power. Sega of Japan is normally laxxed about their brands. They don’t mind blatant rip-offs of their mascot nor do they get stiff about fandom creations or mods. The comic division, however, is getting tough love because not only did it cost them a publishing deal, but ruined a relationship with a high end developer. So the IDW writers and staff are being subjected to intentionally hypocritical rules and strict mandates that they know don’t make sense until they’ve shown to be obedient.

A lot of the mandates aren’t strict. But some are so asinine that I don’t think they aren’t aware with how stupid they sound imposing those rules. Like Shadow is the most narratively complete Sonic character and yet, Sega puts this tight mandate as if Archie Shadow was the most egregious thing. Archie Shadow was overpowered. He wasn’t out of character like Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails were. They can’t be that stupid or be that intentionally dense. So they want to see if the writing crew can follow orders. That’s it.

But that’s just my take.

#idw sonic #sonic the hedgehog

[narisjournal-blog]

These Nights

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Chuck x Reader

Fluff

Words: 1685

Notes: This was a request from honestly years ago and I’m such an asshole for only just posting this - I’m so so sorry. I haven’t included the name or request as it was quite personal. You know who you are :) This is of course a soft, fluffy, loving Chuck from before The Twist in Supernatural. 

Thanks for reading!

***

Warm water cascaded over your hair and your shoulders, soaking you in a chaotic, relentless stream. 

You had long finished your shower but still you stood unmoving in its grasp.

It was cold out there and dark. You held onto the reprieve a little longer.

You gave a heavy sigh.

‘I wish you would show your face,’ you said. ‘I wish... I need...’ 

you sighed again, shaking your head. 

Standing up, you turned off the shower and stepped out. 

You grabbed a towel and quickly wrapped it round you, shivering. 

Once in your pyjamas you sat heavily on your bed and towelled at your hair. You gave up quickly and curled up on your bed, letting the tears flow. All you could see behind tightly closed lids was his face. Those big blue eyes, both gentle and stern at the same time. Chuck- the god you never knew you needed. 

What would he think of you now? You so desperately wanted to see him, but not like this. He would be so disappointed, you thought. 

‘I wish I could be what you want me to be,’ you choked out. 

You always intended to pray before bed; to check in, pay respects and show you were thankful. Like in the movies, knelt by your bed, peaceful and worthy. 

But it never worked out like that. The more you thought about what you wanted to say, the more overwhelmed you became and realised he would never have the time to sit and listen to all of that. 

You began to shiver, partly from your damp hair but mostly from the despair that was taking hold of you.

You felt the mattress dip and you gasped. Then you felt a warm hand on your back and his calm took over you.

You looked up into big blue eyes, full of concern. 

‘Do you really believe that?’ Said Chuck softly. ‘That I don’t have time for you?’

‘It’s not... I mean... I’m just a giant waste of your time. I’m sorry,’ you cringed. 

‘Please,’ He said. ‘Don’t ever apologise for existing.’ Chuck gave your arm a squeeze. ‘And no, you’re not.’

You wiped your eyes and sat up.

‘You have far more important things and I’ve dragged you here.’

‘With all due respect, y/n, you don’t get to tell me how to spend my time.’

You couldn’t look in his eyes long. They broke you. There was so much love that you just couldn’t handle. 

Your shame made you wish you were alone again. 

‘But you don’t really want me to leave, do you?’ He stated softly. 

You continued looking down at the bed.

After an abnormally long silence you gave the smallest shake of your head and sighed. 

‘Is there anything you want to talk about?’ He said, hand resting on your back just below your damp hair.

You shrugged and stuttered. ‘I ... there’s...’ 

So much, you thought. But I can’t even begin to wrap my brain around it. 

You knew he could hear you.

You know what, sometimes I’m just so tired of trying to figure this all out or having to figure out what I mean or where I belong. Sometimes I need you to just tell me! Sometimes I need...

‘Sometimes words are hard. I understand.’

You held your forehead in your hands, as if in some desperate attempt to hide your face. The man was infuriating. You wanted to scream at him, but all you could do was huff out a breath. He could feel you shaking by now. 

‘But you know sometimes the best way to figure things out and understand your needs is to talk. Even if it seems stupid or redundant to you in this moment.’

‘You’re God,’ you almost whispered. ‘You know everything. It is redundant.’

This is why you were better alone. You drew your knees up to your chest and buried your face in your arms.

‘Look you can just go,’ you mumbled. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

He obviously knew what you were going through but was choosing not to help and you felt embarrassed you had even thought about bringing him here. 

After a long silence you realised his hand had not moved from your back. 

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ 

You lifted your head and chanced a glance sideways at him. Your gaze was met by the brightest blue and a rush of warmth and love flooded you again. You looked away.

‘Ok, here’s a deal. You tell me about one thing that’s on your mind and then no more talking, I promise. Deal?’

You sighed heavily. You spoke as the words formed in your mind, slowly and broken up.

‘I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. I feel like...’ you swallowed the lump In Your throat but it didn’t stop your voice from cracking.

‘I feel like I’m not ... not good enough at anything... like I just...’ your voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Take up space.’ 

Chuck rested his head against yours and pulled you into him closer with a sigh. 

He kissed the top of your head and pulled back, brushing hair from your face. His eyes connected with yours and you felt a weight lift of your chest before he had even spoken.

‘Y/N, you matter so much to me. I created you and I have no regrets. I am proud of you every single day because of how strong you are.’

You looked away. ‘I’m not.’

‘Don’t argue with me,’ he said, his voice firm and authoritative now.

Your head whipped back up, surprised by his tone.

Piercing blue charged right through to your soul when he looked into your eyes now.

‘You are strong,’ he affirmed. ‘Strong doesn’t feel easy. You’re stronger than you know.’

Tears began to spill once more, but this time it felt like freedom. For that moment as he held you, you felt truly safe. Loved.

He continued. ‘It might not be clear now. You feel a little lost, I can see that. Trust me. I’ve got you, and you have so much purpose.’

Your shoulders shook as you cried, and he squeezed you once more. Without speaking, he helped you dry your hair, holding you when you shivered.

‘Can you make it warmer?’ you whispered, teeth chattering. He chuckled, pulling the bedcovers back and helping you into bed.

You lay down, curled up on your side and felt Chuck’s warmth move through you as he lay next to you.

You didn’t need to say anything else. You just lay there, allowing yourself to feel safe and relaxing fully for the first time in maybe years. Chuck stroked your hair and said softly, ‘You haven’t been sleeping too good.’

His hand rested on your forehead and you felt a peace radiate from his palm.

‘Goodnight,’ he whispered as you felt your eyelids close and the calm of sleep envelope you.

**

It was already light when you woke, which hadn’t happened for a very long time. Your cheeks flushed with warmth and you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. Your mind slowly uncoiled itself and you rolled onto your back to find the bedsheets beside you cold. He was gone. Of course he was gone.

Had he really meant all those things, or was he just trying to get some peace away from your spiralling thoughts?

You breathed in deeply, trying not to let your mind poison the calm you had felt with him and – was that cinnamon you smelled? You sat up. It was definitely cinnamon. Sweet cinnamon, and you could hear music. No, singing. You could hear singing.

Pulling a hoodie on, you stood up and made your way downstairs towards the sound.

And there in your kitchen, pulling something out of the oven and humming to himself, was Chuck.

He turned as you entered and beamed. ‘Right on time,’ he said.

‘Did you make cinnamon buns?’

‘I know how much you love them, but never have the energy to make them.’ He placed the tray down on the heat proof mat on the side. Mixing bowls lay strewn clumsily about the sink. Of all the thoughts you could have had in that moment, you honestly wondered if God was going to wash the dishes.

‘You’ve made a mess,’ you added, nodding in that direction.

Chuck raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.

‘I mean… Thank you,’ you garbled. ‘I- thank you. I love them.’ You surveyed the kitchen once again.

‘But couldn’t you just, you know…’ you pointed your finger, indicating using his powers.

‘Ah, that’s no fun,’ he shrugged.

Chuck leaned across to the cafetiere you had forgotten you had and pushed the top down.

‘I thought you’d have gone. I was expecting you to be gone when I woke up.’

Chuck smiled again. ‘I’m never really gone, you know,’ he said. He poured coffee into a mug and handed it to you, the heat sharp against your palm. ‘I’m always here. Next time you taste coffee, remember this moment.’

You sipped the strong liquid and savoured the taste.

‘Next time you lie in bed feeling alone, remember me there next to you.’

‘Next time I wash the dishes, I’ll remember when you used my kitchen,’ you said with a smirk.

‘Next time you taste a cinnamon bun’- you cut him off.

‘I get the idea, Chuck. So are those ready to eat, or what?’

He chuckled as he divided them onto plates and guided you over to the kitchen table.

And for the first time in forever, the day ahead was filled with hope and the promise that you were not doing this alone.

***

Tags:

(I hope I’ve got my list right, I may have missed a few changes people have requested - if I have I’m sorry. My list is a clusterfuck tbh.)

Everything list:

@afanofmanystuffs

@trashforwinchesters

@yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend

@natasha-cole

@greenappleeyes

@bisexualdolphinthings

@i-dont-understand-that-url

@misszombicorn

@lucerospn1detc

@robjackface

Rob/chuck list:

@tas898

@destielschild

@girl-next-door-writes

@winchestergirl-13

@a-banana-for-your-thoughts

@jelly-beans-and-gstrings

@kocswain

@gettingbywithalittlehelp96

@itsfunnierin-enochian

@rblstrash

@megthemewlingquim

@holamishamigos

#supernatural #chuck shurley #chuck x reader #God!Chuck x Reader #chuck shurley x reader #rob benedict #spn fic #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #god!chuck

[snarkwrites]

ssw | embry call ; let me take care of you.

NOTES:

As I said yesterday... I’m going to break down the list of prompts I originally intended to use for just one one-shot into a few different ones for this because I just felt like the first one flowed so well using only the one... This is the second part to the one shot I posted yesterday. And there will be at least a few more parts after this. I can’t say when they’ll be coming, but I can say they will be coming eventually.

Again, same as yesterday.. I am not a medical professional. Nor have I ever had amnesia of any kind. I’m trying my best with this, so apologies if it doesn’t seem realistic or whatever...If it matters/bothers anyone, that is.

Question though.. Would anyone be interested in at least one part of this being written in his point of view? Because I feel like it’d be interesting to write that way... It’d be third person..

PROMPTS:

Taken from [ here ] or [ here ]. The prompt used for inspiration here was obviously, Let me take care of you.

FANDOM / CHARACTER:

Twilight / Embry Call x Imprint!OFC, Merisa.

OTHER WORKS EMBRY & MERISA ARE FOUND IN:

[ he looks down. she looks up. ] 

WARNINGS:

amnesia tw, vague injuries mentioned tw, just gonna say her current soon to be ex boyfriend is an actual piece of garbage so.. yeah.. Sexual tension. Beyond all these, there’s not really anything else I can think of.

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee​  is the only one currently on my Twilight taglist. If you see this and you’d like to be tagged also, add yourself to the doc below or lmk. It’ll make me super happy.

OTHER STUFF:

[ faq | request rules | sfw masterlist | tag list doc ]

The phone rang, shattering the silence and my train of thought. Okay, so it wasn’t a train of thought because I was more or less staring out the window of my grandmother’s living room and watching Embry Call work on my grandmother’s old car out in the driveway, but.. The phone was a distraction I didn’t want.

I grumbled when it didn’t go quiet. And after a few more seconds I’d had all I could take of the high pitched sound in all it’s annoying glory. I sprang up from the couch gingerly, grabbing up the remote to pause the true crime documentary I’d been engrossed in about Richard Ramirez and I hobbled into the kitchen, wincing every step of the way.

A scowl filled my face and I tensed up just as soon as I picked up and I heard Greg on the other end of the line. Upon hearing his voice, all sorts of unpleasant memories came rushing back. It was too much. 

“Merisa?”

“What, Greg?” I snapped. Impatient. Peering out my grandma’s living room window. Biting my bottom lip as I watched Embry tug the stained tank top he was wearing up over his head and wipe at sweat on his forehead with it before tossing it on the concrete slab next to his open toolbox.

“I asked you a question.” Greg cleared his throat expectantly.

Is it bad that I was so caught up in watching Embry do mechanic things outside that I didn’t even attempt to make an effort to listen to a damn word Greg said? Because this is exactly what happened.

“I wasn’t listening.”

Greg gave an annoyed huff at my honest answer and I rolled my eyes. Grumbling. The crackle of static over the phone line breaking through for a second or two. Whether I asked for him to repeat himself or not didn’t matter at all because Greg went on and asked his question again anyway.

“I said don’t you think you should be planning to return to Seattle soon? You were only supposed to be gone for a few days. It’s been nearly four weeks.” Greg stated. Pausing for a minute to grumble to himself about how this was typical of me, telling him one thing and then doing something entirely different.

And I snapped.

“Does the fact that I nearly died three and a half weeks ago just not mean anything to you at all or..?” I snarled, going quiet for a second or two. Determined to stay calm. But exploding felt so damn satisfying. It was hard to resist. I got the feeling that I spent 90 percent of my time around Greg biting my tongue and that had me wondering why. What did this guy have that kept me with him? The more I wondered about it, the harder it was to come up with any real sort of answer.

“Sorry. I should know better than to ask questions I already know the answer to.” I apologized. In my own petty way, of course.

Greg took my apology as sincerity and he sighed. Disappointed, obviously because I wasn’t there to tend to his every stupid whim. “I’m sorry too, it’s just.. I told you we had plans. You know how important this weekend is to me and the fact that you’re not even trying to come back… I’m just disappointed, sweetheart. That’s all.”

,, well excuse the fuck out of me for grieving. excuse me for loving my mother enough to want to go to her funeral. Excuse me for nearly dying and needing to heal and getting in the way of your precious plans,asshole.” I wanted to say it so badly that I had to bite the insides of my cheeks and ball my hands into fists just to keep it in. I sighed. “Instead of making this harder than it has to be, you could actually be a caring boyfriend and come to make sure I’m okay… I mean.. I am dealing with memory loss and injuries...”

Surprise, surprise. He suddenly had a thousand excuses as to why he couldn’t -and wouldn’t, just do that. And my stomach churned. Did he even give a shit? Why was I still wasting my time? Why had I even bothered answering the phone in the first place this time?

I made up my mind right then. As soon as I got off the phone with him, I was going to block him on all socials. I was going to block his number on my cell phone. And if I saw his name on my grandmother’s caller ID when the phone rang, I was just going to walk out of the room.

“I’ve gotta go.” I muttered. Before Greg could say anything else,  I hung up the phone angrily. Slamming it down on it’s cradle.

From the doorway, Embry cleared his throat and stepped into the living room. “Trouble in paradise?”

“If that’s what paradise is I’d hate to imagine hell.” I flopped back on the couch dramatically. Wincing when yes, it still hurts to move certain ways. Or too much at once. 

Embry sat down in my grandmother’s recliner. Staring intently at the television which was paused on the clubhouse scene from Dirty Dancing.

I grabbed my cell phone from the end table and did exactly what I made up my mind to do. Blocking Greg on every single one of my socials. And out of pettiness, I changed my relationship status on Instagram to single.

He’d never even bothered to change his, if memory serves. Why had I changed mine?

There was still so much I had left to fill in as far as my memory gaps, but it was coming back in leaps and bounds. Something told me that the last thing I needed to have done was return to Seattle. Otherwise, I might not have ever remembered or  even realized to begin with, what kind of man I was involved with because I’m pretty sure that Greg wouldn’t have started to really show his true self.

He’d done a pretty fair job of hiding just how controlling and easily irritated by the slightest inconvenience he really was so far, I mean, I hadn’t dropped his ass.

I smirked in satisfaction as I put down my phone. 

I happened to glance over at Embry to find him staring at me. Like he wanted to say something or he was lost in thought. Before I could help myself, I was staring right back. Getting pulled into the depths of his eyes. Eventually dropping my gaze down. Lingering on his mouth when he licked his lips.

I couldn’t stop staring. This was starting to become habit whenever he was around. Especially if he wasn’t paying attention so I knew I could stare to my hearts content and get away with it.

I stood and cleared my throat. “I’m gonna go get myself some lemonade. Do you want anything?” I asked as I walked over to the doorway leading into the kitchen.

“If there are any more bottled waters?” Embry asked hopefully. I smiled and gave him a thumbs up. And as soon as I was in the kitchen, I leaned against the fridge. Fanning myself with one of my grandmother’s magazines that happened to be sitting on the counter.

After I managed to pull myself together just a little bit, I grabbed a bottled water for Embry and I poured myself a glass of lemonade. And when I turned to walk back into the living room, I found myself body to body with Embry as he stepped into the doorway between the two rooms.

My thighs clenched just a little at the way it felt to be pressed against him. Hard muscles against my own softness. For a second, when I opened my mouth to tell him I’d gotten his water like he asked for, the words hung in my throat.

Finally, I managed to get it out. “Your water, sir.” I held out the water bottle to him and after holding it against the back of his neck for a few seconds, he uncapped it, practically swallowing down half the bottle in one gulp.

Eyes locked on me the entire time. I know this because I’ll be damned if I could stop staring at him either. I tried. And failed.

He cleared his throat.

“Oh, right.. You probably wanted to wash your hands…” I stepped out of the doorway, pouting to myself a little because the second physical contact was broken, I missed the feel of his body against mine.

He walked over to the sink. Turning it on. Washing his hands. And I happened to notice he had a few busted knuckles.

“You need those sanitized. C’mere.” I nodded to the stool on the other side of the counter. Embry shrugged. Muttered that it wasn’t a big deal.

“It’s called infection setting in. And it can happen.” I insisted, nodding to the stool again. When he shook his head and took another sip of water and calmly insisted that he was fine, I shook my head and hobbled over. Grabbing hold of the hand that wasn’t injured. Leading him to the stool. “Sit.”

“Okay, alright. You know, you’re a lot bossier than I remember.” Embry muttered, gazing down at me. Even sitting down he was still taller. Bigger.

I stuck out my tongue at him. “If it keeps you from getting a nasty infection in your hand, I’ll take it.” I muttered. My gaze settling on him. Instantly getting sucked right back into those deep brown eyes and lost.

After a second or two of both of us staring at each other yet again, I cleared my throat. “I should go find the first aid kit.”

“It’s under the sink.” Embry answered quietly. I bit my lip. Nodding as I muttered mostly to myself, “Under the sink.” and turned away to get it.

“You don’t have to do this. I’m telling you, it’s fine. I deal with this all the time. Kind of happens when you work at a garage, Merisa…” Embry trailed off as I glanced back at him and stated in a firmer tone, “Let me take care of you, okay?”

I grabbed the bottle of peroxide and a rag. Sitting on the stool adjacent to his. Grabbing hold of his hand and placing it in my lap.

“You have tiny hands.” Embry muttered, almost sounding dazed. I glanced up at him through a curtain of hair as it fell right into my face because I bent my head just a little to see his hand better. I swallowed hard. Trying not to think of how good it felt to have his hand in mine. Or on my body.

When I exhaled, it was shaky.

That had me raising a brow.

If this man had one tenth of a clue just what he stirred up in me, I swear to God…

He jumped as the peroxide made contact with the open wounds, bubbling and fizzing as it cleaned the wounds out. 

A memory came back to me… I was younger. Probably around five. My grandmother sat on the stool Embry currently sat on and I sat on the stool I was currently sitting on. My leg was in her lap and she was dabbing some red liquid on it that burned like the fire of ten thousand hells. I was crying and trying to jerk my leg away, but my grandma just held onto it. And when she finished, she leaned in… Blowing gently on my injured knee. 

As the bubbling started to slow down, I raised Embry’s hand, leaning down. Blowing on the knuckles a little. Glancing up at him and teasing playfully, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I’ve felt worse.” he finally mumbled after we’d been locked in a quiet staredown for what felt like minutes instead of seconds. 

It sank in that I was still holding onto his hand. And he wasn’t making an effort to pull his hand away, either.

My grandmother cleared her throat from the doorway and smirked at the two of us playfully as she came in, sitting groceries on the counter. “Am I interrupting something, Merisa?”

“No, not at all.” I answered. Smiling. Letting go of Embry’s hand as my cheeks burned. I felt like a teenager just walked in on by her parents.

Embry slid off the stool and brushed his hands over his jeans. “I need to get back to it.” he muttered. Hurrying out of the house. As soon as the screen door banged shut behind him, I let out a ragged breath. Fanning myself with the magazine again.

Trying to ignore the look I was getting from my grandmother.

When she couldn’t resist any longer, she spoke up. “He’s single.. If you’re wondering.”

“Grandma!” I laughed out, shaking my head. My gaze lingering on the window. Fixed on him.

My grandmother spoke up again. “It’s been so nice having you here, Mermaid… It’ll be a shame to see you go.”

Before I really stopped to think about it, I replied “ Honestly? I’m tempted to stay.”

My grandmother pulled me into a tight hug. Smiling at me as the hug broke. “I won’t stop you. The decision is yours.”

I nodded. Waiting until she was in the other room with one of her soap operas going full blast before I wandered back over to the window that faced where Embry currently was outside. Staring out at him with my fingertips pressed against the glass.

I thought he’d caught me one time because he stopped what he was doing beneath the hood of the car to glance around the yard. I moved away from the window quickly, shaking my head and laughing at myself about it.

I’ll repeat. If Embry Call had one tenth of a clue the effect he had on me...

#embry call #embry call x oc #embry call x oc fanfiction #embry call x oc imagine #embry call imagine #embry call fanfiction #embry call fanfic #embry call oneshot #embry call one shot #embry call imagines #my writing ; embry call #my fanfiction ; embry call #my fics ; embry call #my oneshots ; embry call #my imagines ; embry call #// injuries vaguely mentioned tw #// amnesia tw #// imprint bond #// just haven't gotten around to figuring out how I'm gonna work that in here. #// me. fixing the fact that embry didn't imprint.

[cristalconnors]

TOP 20 SONGS OF 2020

20. “BELOW THE CLAVICLE”- EARTHEATER

“The meaning hasn’t come up yet. It’s still under the surface below the clavicle.”

It isn’t just Alexandra Drewchin’s ear splitting soprano when she hits that impossibly high B, practically shrieking out the “cle” syllable of clavicle, though that’s undoubtedly when I first knew that Eartheater’s avant folk was for me- it’s also the cinematic, lush strings, both bowed and plucked (is that acoustic guitar or harp? I genuinely can’t tell), deepening and complicating the sonic texture of Drewchin’s study of parsing through emotions you aren’t ready to make sense of yet. 

19. “PUSSY TALK”- CITY GIRLS, FT. DOJA CAT

“This pussy so ghetto, this pussy speak ebonics”

“WAP”’s funnier, classless Irish twin, though it’s important to note “Pussy Talk” came first. Yung Miami and JT enlist Doja Cat to expound on everything their pussies deserve and will absolutely settle for nothing less than. And why should they when they’re spitting out verses this inspiredly hilarious with such confidence and flow? 

18. “LICK IN HEAVEN”- JESSY LANZA

“Once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning...”

Jessy Lanza is talking about losing your cool, letting your emotions get the best of you and lashing out instead of letting cooler heads prevail, but when that earworm of a chorus hits- “once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning” - I can’t stop spinning. I’m that woman on the single art, a wine mom lost in the delirium of the dance floor and in Lanza’s hypnotic, fragmented rhythms.  

17. “GASLIGHTER”- THE CHICKS

“Boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat!”

“Gaslighter” finds Natalie Ames and her Chicks at their most simultaneously ruthless and ebullient, ripping Ames’s ex-husband Adrian Pasdar a new asshole and ratcheting up the righteous anger of “Goodbye Earl” tenfold, channeling it into a glorious wall of sound in what might be their most rousing, emotionally resonant chorus in their storied career. 

16. “HANNAH SUN”- LOMELDA

“Hannah do no harm...”

While “Hannah Sun” begins as an exquisitely observed rumination on grappling with long-distance, pining for someone who’s a continent away, it gradually becomes clear that Hannah Read blames herself for putting the distance between her and the subject of her longing, and that the distance isn’t strictly literal. Skittering synths (or is that distorted flute?) complicate and enrich the texture of the song, allowing it to build organically and stunningly towards a heartbreaking plea to herself- “Hannah, do no harm.”

15. “FIRE”- WAXAHATCHEE

“And when I turn back around will you drain me back out? Will you let me believe that I broke through?”

When I’d drive back and forth between Dallas and Austin over and over again when I was in college, I’d often get off I-35 past Waco and take the back roads through towns I’d never heard of, the sun setting spectacularly behind the titular hills of Hill Country that were beginning to roll out in earnest. I think about that a lot when listening to “Fire,” a song dripping in rural Americana that was, unsurprisingly, inspired by a road trip. We’ve probably all been Katie Crutchfield as she crossed the bridge into West Memphis- alone in the car, awed by the simple beauty of the American countryside, making speeches to ourselves about our past mistakes and figuring out a way forward. 

14. “3AM”- HAIM

“On the screen and in my jeans, just make me feel good.”

On an album full of genre departures and decidedly darker themes than we’ve typically heard from Haim in their near decade of syncopated bubblegum pop rock, “3AM” stands out not only as their most effective stab at pastiche, slipping into the trappings of contemporary R&B with shocking ease and gusto, but also as their most unabashedly fun track in their entire oeuvre. “I think you can hear the amount of joy and laughs we had making this song” Alana Haim tells Apple Music, and you absolutely can.

13. “QADIR”- NICK HAKIM

“We’re sinking down a hole without thinking about our loved ones who might be shrinking...”

I often wonder if I’m putting enough effort into maintaining my relationships with friends I don’t see regularly, who live several time zones away, living their own lives while I live mine. When the thought of sustaining simple correspondence becomes overwhelming, it’s easy for months to go by before you realize you haven’t spoken to one of your closest friends. “QADIR” plays less like a eulogy for a friend gone too soon (though of course it is that) than a plea to the listener to put in the work. It’s worth it. You never know when it’ll be too late.

12. “LEVITATING”- DUA LIPA

“Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes shining just the way we are.”

Just a few bars of that delightfully bouncy, extra-terrestrial beat is enough to launch me into space. It’s so refreshing to hear a song that remembers that pop is supposed to be joyful and is best when it’s a bit silly. When discussing this track with Apple Music, Dua Lipa cites Austin Powers as inspiration, elaborating that “if I do a video for this, Mike Meyers has to be in it.” Can’t you just see them together, performing a farcical pas de deux of seduction like the spiritual successor to “Beautiful Stranger?”

11. “RIQUIQUI”- ARCA

“Love in the face of fear! Fear in the face of God!”

Arca’s made a career of harnessing chaos and somehow making sense of it. On an album that finds her embracing more traditional, accessible song structures, “Riquiqui” is a reminder that even when working within an AB structure, she’s still breaking rules left and right and having a blast doing it. She’s also never sounded so ferociously empowered in either her femininity or in her Venezuelan identity, rattling off local colloquialisms with affection and verve without a second thought as to who’s going to understand it. 

10. “FANTASY”- AGAINST ALL LOGIC

“I think about you all the time...”

Or, the musical embodiment of this gif:

When Nicolas Jaar’s tormented synths and crunching beats give way to Beyoncé’s unmistakable alto, it is indeed quite the shock. But should it be? Even if 2017-2019 finds him ditching the dancefloor in favor of more severe, unforgiving soundscapes, his already varied career has shown us nothing’s off limits to him. So why not reinvent Beyoncé’s iconic “Baby Boy” into an industrial, vaguely sinister certified bop that arguably surpasses the original?

9. “PEOPLE, I’VE BEEN SAD”- CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

“If you disappear, then I’m disappearing, too.”

“People, I’ve been sad” plays out with the vulnerability and intimacy of a tumblr text post you put out in the middle of the night, only to hastily delete later when it gets no notes. It forgoes flowery language in favor of just getting to the point. “I’ve been sad.” Héloïse Adelaïde Letissier blows up this deceptively simple sentiment with richly layered textures and a big screen gloss not to offer any remedies but instead to offer solidarity. We’re all in this hell together.

8. “DESCRIBE”- PERFUME GENIUS

“Can you just find him for me?”

Mike Hadreas has never sounded so hopeless. Utilizing harsh, rattling guitar that would make Kevin Shields swoon, he conveys the experience of being so estranged from happiness and joy that you need to rely on others to describe the sensation to you. But how, when exploring darker textures than he ever has before, does he make despondency sound so divine? 

7. “4 AMERICAN DOLLARS”- U.S. GIRLS

“No matter how much you get to have, you will still die and that’s the only thing.”

Meg Remy picks up where she left off on “4 American Dollars,” reviving the subversive pastiche she mastered on In a Poem Unlimited, this time harnessing the power of funk to dismantle the fallacies we’re taught about the virtues of capitalism. Heavy stuff, but Remy makes it less didactic than joyous, ensuring the listener will be singing “I don’t believe in pennies and nickels and dimes and dollars and pesos and pounds and rupees and yen and rubles” until they start to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t, either. 

6. “STUPID LOVE”- LADY GAGA

“I freak out, I freak out, I freak out, I freak out!”

Due to a healthy spirit of contrarianism mixed with a touch of internalized homophobia and genuine bafflement at her universal appeal and praise, I was a proud Lady Gaga hater for as long as she’d been a cultural entity. I just didn’t get her at all and loved that about myself. Annoying, I know. 2020 was the year I was finally ready to let that all go. Just before the world fell apart in March, I was out at Flaming Saddles (RIP) with friends the night this song came out and by the sixteenth time it played, I understood why it was inducing such hysteria. This was a cultural shift. After a frustrating near-decade of Gaga subverting expectations so thoroughly that she was actively working against her strengths and sabotaging her cultural ubiquity in the process, coupled with the most frightening era of political upheaval in our lifetimes, she was finally ready to save us and be Lady Gaga again. Booming synth, drag sensibilities, absurd thematic conceits- all was right in the world. For the first time in a long time, people had something to be hopeful about, and as I danced that night, I felt that hope, too. 

5. “SHELLFISH MADEMOISELLE”- RÓISÍN MURPHY

“How dare you sentence me to a lifetime without dancing?”

As soon as that bass starts (the funkiest bassline in the history of music?) it’s like Róisín Murphy’s snake charming oboe, coaxing even the most stalwart curmudgeon onto the dancefloor and keeping them there, dancing frantically and involuntarily like the citizens of Strasbourg in 1518, trying their best to keep up with Murphy who isn’t even breaking a sweat, commanding the masses with a sultry remove, beckoning you closer, pulling you inexorably deeper into the mass of gyrating bodies and whispering in your ear “come and have a dance with yer mum.”

4. “PARTY 4 U”- CHARLI XCX

“I only threw this party for you...”

As PC Music / Bubblegum Bass / whatever you want to call it enters its second decade, Charli XCX proves not only that there’s still new textures to explore within it, but also that no one can exploit its artifice to get down to emotional truths like she can. How can she make something this slick sound so vulnerable? “I only threw this party for you” she croons over and over again over glorious syncopated synths that build exquisitely, reaching their climax only to immediately fall away, until it’s just her and her trusty autotune, pleading with the subject of the song to just come to the damn party. But they won’t, of course. They never do, do they?

3. “WAP”- CARDI B, FT. MEGAN THEE STALLION

“I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat!”

Sometimes you just immediately know you’re living through a significant cultural moment. No, not COVID. I’m talking about the experience of hearing Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s instant classic “WAP” for the first time, a titanic meeting of the minds that finds both of them at the apex of their cultural influence and at their most undeniable. Can the argument be made that these two aren’t the two best rappers in the game right now? How could you hear this inspiredly filthy sex positive juggernaut, where Cardi and Megan are trading the sickest verses of their careers, and not think these two deserve the world? 

2. “KEROSENE!”- YVES TUMOR

“I can be your baby in real life, sugar. I can live in your dreams.”

If the 2010′s were all about the pop-ification of all music, trading in live instrumentation in favor of polished synths, 2020 forcefully announced the return of the electric guitar when Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s back and forth lustfully submissive declarations of desire suddenly gave way to that nasty guitar rip lifted from Uriah Heep’s “Weep in Silence” to announce yet another cultural shift in a year chock full of them- rock and roll was, indeed, here to stay. 

1. “I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME”- FIONA APPLE

“I move with the trees in the breeze, I know that time is elastic.”

We live and we learn. Years spent soul searching and on self-discovery shape us into better, smarter people, progressively knowing and understanding ourselves and the world around us more and more clearly, but Fiona Apple knows that none of that can quell the ferocious desire to be loved by someone. By anyone. By you, whoever that is. We can know that time is elastic and that when we’re gone all our particles will disband and disperse and then we’ll be back in the pulse, and we can know that none of this stuff actually matters, but still- we want, we want, we want. 

#2020 MUSIC #Fiona Apple #Yves Tumor #Cardi B #megan thee stallion #Charli XCX #Róisín Murphy #Lady Gaga #U.S. Girls #Perfume Genius #Christine and the Queens #Against All Logic #Arca #Dua Lipa #Nick Hakim #Haim #waxahatchee #Lomelda #Jessy Lanza #City Girls #Doja Cat #The Chicks #Eartheater

[gryffindordaughterofathena]

Hi fellow Gryffindor! Hope you're read for:

Not Yet Wed Questions

Note: Great Scott! This week, we are going back in time to MC’s intern year. Think of Ethan’s relationship with them at this point and answer the following questions accordingly. It is entirely up to you when in year 1 this takes place (pre/post Miami, pre/post CH 15, etc). Feel free to answer with dialogue or pictures or both :) Have fun!

No worries. All of this is off the record and HR will never know!

The setting for this answers is:

For Both

When I first saw them, I thought__________

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Three people at work your coworker hates?

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

(Bonus round! Feel free to skip.)

Never have I Ever:

come into work hungover

had a fistfight

been kicked out of a bar

gotten a tattoo

broken someone’s heart

been in love

For MC (Ethan is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Last thing he texted you?

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

For Ethan (MC is not there)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Last thing she texted you?

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Ahh my favorite time of the week again. Also on a side note these questions are brilliant.

I am sorry for being late, my school thinks it's okay to torture seventeen year olds, smh

(Ignore if there are any typos, I am sleep deprived)

Previous Interviews

The setting for these answers is: Two days before they leave for Miami. Diana already knows about Naveen and as an extra context, they now spend time together at his apartment or at Derry Roasters to discuss Naveen's case and both of them (grudgingly in Ethan's case) call each other ahem...."friends"

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

[Two people make their way towards the busy little coffee shop down the street from the hospital, the man furtively looking over his shoulder, as if scared of being spotted, the woman, sensing her companion's distress, puts a tentative hand on his arm, which visibly seems to calm him somewhat. He sends a grateful smile her way.]

ETHAN : We are both busy doctors rookie, why are we supposed to do this—interview?

DIANA : It won't take long, plus we are already waiting for the test results for Doct- umm our patient.

ETHAN : Well if it will stop you from talking my ear off.

DIANA : (Says nothing just smiles)

(FOR BOTH)

When I first saw them, I thought ________

Diana : Actually the first time we met it was kinda in the midst of an emergency, so I didn't get much time to form an impression but once he left I thought he was a (glances towards Ethan, then says in a rush) handsome asshole.

Ethan : Excuse me, what?

Diana : Well after I helped save the woman you told me that it was incredible I didn't kill her, forgive me if I can't think that you were an asshole.

Ethan : (a little flustered) That's not what I said excuse me fo- never mind, I thought she wasn't completely incompetent for an intern and also that she's quite bold.

Di : "Bold" ?

E : Yes, you tried to flirt with me.

Di : Oh that was before I knew who you were.

What is your coworker's most used swear word?

Ethan : She alternates between Shit and Fuck

Diana : Goddamnit and Fuck

Quick: What color are their eyes?

Diana : Blue, a bright clear blue.... umm it's quite noticeable when someone chews you out every other day.

Ethan : Dark brown that appears almost black at times.

Diana : (mutters)I am surprised he can see my eyes from his giraffe height

Ethan : glares at her

Diana : What? Oh did I say that out loud? Umm well it's true (shrugs)

Three people at work your coworker hates?

Diana : (giggling) I think it's easier to tell you about three people he doesn't hate, he hates everyone except Dr. Banerjee, Dr. Emery both of whom he respects and well me.

Ethan : (a rare smile playing in his lips) who said anything about not hating you Rookie?

Diana : Because you are my partner in crime and I think we are friends.

Ethan : "partner in crime"?

Diana : Yes we go to burning buildings together and anyways deny as much as you want, you don't hate me.

Ethan : (softly) I don't. (composing himself) In case of Dr. Ramirez, I don't think she can ever hate anyone, she herself says "I love everyone" I don't know how that's possible but she doesn't hate anyone at this place.

What is your coworker’s strangest or most endearing quirk?

Diana : Definitely pinching the bridge of his nose thing, I once tried counting how many times he did it while morning rounds, it was exactly 17 times in two hours.

Ethan : Not my fault most interns are utterly hopeless. In Diana's case it's forgetting a hair tie every day and using a pen or a pencil to keep her hair up.

Di : This irritates him so much that he keeps a spare tie in his office now.

Ethan : I don't know why I put up with these habits (pinches the bridge of his nose)

If they had a crush on anyone at work, who would that be?

Diana : (in an uncanny imitation of Ethan's gruff voice) It's beyond me to have juvenile emotions such as a crush, it's mostly a result of continued exposure to the person for a long time anyways.

Ethan : What- I don't sound like that

Diana : You do!

Ethan : For her it might be one of her friends, they seem quite enamored by her.

Di : My friends....nah! It's someone else

E : Who else do you spend time with to have a crush on?

Di : A girl's gotta have some secrets. (muttering so softly that Ethan doesn't hear it) how much more oblivious can a man be?

(NEVER HAVE I EVER ROUND)

Ethan : What is that?

Di : You drink if you have done said thing before, it's a classic drinking game.

E : I am not playing any such game.

Di : Come on we are already doing this.

E : *Grumbles in agreement*

come into work hungover

The iced coffee lies untouched before both of them.

Diana : We are responsible doctors.

had a fistfight

Both take a sip of their respective beverages.

Diana : Okay I'll go first, I once punched a guy in seventh grade because he was being obnoxious and then his other friends taunted him on being punched by a girl which hurt his male ego and he tried to fight back but some of our teachers spotted me dodging it and I escaped punishment because of my pristine record.

Ethan : Well, in our field there are many power hungry morons who deserve being punched.

been kicked out of a bar

Ethan takes another sip, Diana doesn't.

Diana : Okay dish

E : We all do regrettable things in our youth.

Di : Really, you won't tell us?

E : (grins) I am going for an air of mystery.

Di : Well it's working

(Both smile at each other, forgetting their surroundings for some time)

gotten a tattoo.

None of them drink.

Di : It hurts like hell so I am never getting one.

broken someone’s heart.

Di : Nah! I haven't. But Ethan you drink this time.

Ethan : Why?

Di : Honestly have you ever seen the way the nurses look at you?

Ethan : If you say so (takes a sip)

been in love

Ethan : Doesn't drink but all of a sudden he fixes his gaze at her almost involuntarily.

Di : (Drinks) I like to think I have been in love before.

Ethan : (trying to look as uninterested as possible) What changed?

Di : Well we broke up after around two yearsof dating.

Ethan : (doesn't say anything but looks visibly less tense)

Di : Oh we are out of coffee...

E : You sit here I'll place our orders.

Di : Thanks

(DIANA)

Where do you see him in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Di : Professionally he'll most definitely contribute even more to the medical world, lead the Diagnostic Team like the best doctor he is. Personally, I dunno maybe he'll find someone, I hope he does, he needs someone to help and support him through his problem of shouldering every little thing.

What do you find the most impressive about him?

Diana : His passion for medicine obviously, you should see when he talks about medicine, it's so evident how much he loves what he does and also how much he cares despite the gruff exterior he puts on in front of everyone.

Last thing he texted you?

Diana : He hates texting, so I think his last text was, let me see (scrolls through her phone)

"We need to put ciprofloxacin in our list, can you do me a favor by adding it?"

It's uh about a case.

If he asked you out on a date, what would you say?

Diana : It's never going to happen, he's Ethan Ramsey and I am, well me, but if uh hypothetically he asked me out, I'd say yes immediately, hypothetically obviously.

(Ethan returns with the coffee, then looks at Di's flustered face)

Ethan : What were you talking about?

Diana : Uh nothing I was just - (her pager goes off) We have the test results, I'll go and bring those back in a few minutes.

(ETHAN)

Where do you see her in five years (both professionally and in his personal life?)

Ethan : She'll be an amazing doctor obviously, maybe even with a spot on the diagnostic team. I suppose she won't hear this?

Interviewer : No, she won't.

Ethan : Personally, with someone who values her contribution to our sphere of work, I suppose.

What specifically do you find attractive about her?

Ethan : I really shouldn't be talking about this.

Interviewer : Don't worry, no one's hearing about this, it's just some extra information so that we know you better.

Ethan : She's an attractive woman obviously, but I think her smile, it's difficult to ignore and her eyes.

Last thing she texted you?

Ethan : "I AM DONE WITH MY PATIENTS🤩🥳"

"IT'S LIKE EVERYONE DECIDED TO BE SICK TODAY"

followed by a series of emoticons

"😣😖😫😩"

If she asked you out on a date, how would you respond?

Ethan : I would have to turn her down, I am her boss.

(gazing wistfully at the street, eyes glued at Diana's approaching figure)

But perhaps in a different life I would have said yes.

Ethan : I think that's enough questions, she's here now and we have important matters at hand which require our attention.

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

Taglist : @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @drariellevalentine @rookie-ramsey @aleynareads @miss-smrxtiee @terrm9 @aestheticartsx @fireycookie @maurine07 @starrystarrytrouble @schnitzelbutterfingers @tsrookie @anntoldstories @iemcpbchoices @stygianflood @sophxwithers @actuallybored @iloveethanramsey @natureblooms24 @chemist-ana @mercury84choices @casey-v @uneravine @mm2305 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @smilex1104 @missmiimiie @shanzay44 @sweetheartdetectivex @potionsprefect @headoverheelsforramsey @jerzwriter @mainstreetreader @coffeeheartaddict @adiehardfan @mia143

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#newlyweds game #ask #messrprongs #e and d #dr. ethan ramsey x diana ramirez #queued

[randomingoftherandomness]

Could we get more of mob boss!ZZS sugarbaby!WKX? Jealous ZZS fucks his pretty boy in front of/in earshot of the other party (Duan Peng Ju?) before killing him. Bonus points for WKX being a needy whiny bottom!

A/N: I’ve got a trajectory for the mob au and I recently posted a second part to that au on AO3 here though it is archive locked as are all my fics on AO3. So, this little ditty has nothing to do with that. Consider it a random musing on my part.

Maybe I should do a proper list for all the WoH series and fics I am currently working on...

🌶🍋

--

“Boss.”

“Hm?”

Han Ying doesn’t hesitate nor does he pause for even a beat before saying, “Leader Duan is outside seeking an audience.”

The Boss curves a slow rise of an eyebrow at him, holding his respectful gaze with a coolly detached one of his own even as his fingers in Mr Wen’s long dark hair presses the man to take him further down his throat. Han Ying feels a twinge of sympathy for the man and makes a mental note to have the kitchen prepare some honey lemon tea to be served before bed. 

“Send him in,” The Boss says without even an inflection in his voice.

“That’s...” Han Ying hesitates at this. He knows that these two have zero shame in matters of who is watching them fuck; knows it because they do it so often around him, waiting for him to blush at the way pleasure each other, or even to just look at them with a hint of anything less than respect, or gods forbid, ask to participate like how everyone else seems to want to when confronted with their two beautiful bodies twisting and writhing together.

But Han Ying won’t ever. Not when he doesn’t ache for what they have in that way. Not when he has his eyes on someone else and is waiting for him to grow up.

“What are you waiting for?”

Mr Wen licks his kiss swollen lips, chin shiny with spit and come, eyes watching him from between the Boss’ legs. “Go on,” He says, voice already wrecked. “Call him in.”

“Yes,” Han Ying bows dutifully, striding a quick retreat to the door.

He finds Leader Duan at the top of the stairs, openly regarding the painting of Mr Wen that the Boss commissioned last autumn. It’s a new one and it is more modest than the last, though in Han Ying’s opinion, anything would be more modest than a painting of your lover’s face in mid-orgasm.

“The Boss will see you now.”

Leader Duan’s beady eyes sparkle with a cruel sort of delight. Everyone in the circle knows that he has been coveting the Boss’ position for as long as he has been in that spot, and everyone and their dog knows he has been eyeing up Mr Wen for just as long too. The Boss hadn’t said anything about it, nor has Mr Wen, but Han Ying knows enough about the couple to understand that they’re just biding their time.

A trill of his phone and a quick read of the message has him forwarding it to the Boss. As they approach the door to the study, they can hear the lewd sounds of Mr Wen gasping the Boss’ name and the tell-tale sounds of flesh meeting in rapid succession, filter through the wood.

Han Ying doesn’t falter, pushing open the door for Leader Duan to enter and following behind. 

Leader Duan is mesmerised by the sight of Mr Wen being fucked, drooling, eyes rolled back into the hundred year old oak desk. From where he stands he can make out the way the man’s slacks distend heavily at the crotch. Han Ying has to stop himself from snickering at just how fake Mr Wen’s moans are.

When the Boss and Mr Wen are in the genuine throes of lovemaking and not this farce they put on to trap the stupid and gullible, it’s not like this.

“Han Ying says you have something to discuss,” The Boss grunts, hips moving in a frenzy, hands gripping Mr Wen by the hips, pulling him back to meet him thrust for thrust. “Hurry up and speak. I’m busy.”

The order seems to jar Leader Duan for a moment. In a disorientated stutter, he gives his report. From the sounds of it, this was something that could have waited until the next meeting to present. Nothing important at all to warrant a personal visit. 

Han Ying can tell that the Boss sees it too and holds back a sneer when he flickers his gaze down to meet Mr Wen’s.

There is a sharp, dangerous edge to the way Mr Wen blinks and smiles, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. Pushing himself onto his hands, he arches his spine, taking the brunt of the Boss’ brutality. 

Leader Duan doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He puts his hands into his pockets, showing off the way his erection curves the tailored lines of his pants. “Hey Boss, you ah, you think you’d be open to sharing that one with me? He looks real pretty and I think his mouth is a little empty, no?”

Oh.

Oh, he’s done it now. Han Ying sighs internally, thinking of the Persian rug the stupid asshole is standing on. Bloodstains are hard to clean up on Persian rugs. 

There was never a scenario that Leader Duan was going to get out of this one intact. Not when Han Ying had forwarded the evidence of him skimming the take and being a mole for the authorities to the Boss earlier. 

The sharp glare the Boss flickers over at him and the way Mr Wen reaches up to pull the Boss down on him is signal enough. These two are the definition of ‘Look But Do Not Touch’; this dog and pony show is nothing more than a smokescreen for the chaos that brews inside them, and they hate sharing.

Han Ying takes a half step back, just as Mr Wen throws a letter opener at Leader Duan that hits him right in the shoulder. 

Quietly, he leaves the room and calls for a few brothers to bring in the Boss’ favourite tools and some tarpaulin. The Persian rug may still be salvageable.

#not my mob au #wenzhou #word of honor #spicy lemons #wen kexing #zhou zishu #gab writes stuff #catch me slipping a pairing here that i never thought i wanted #just a hint tho

[gagmebucky]

hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.) 

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers. 

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works. 

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session. 

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.” 

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.” 

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!” 

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread. 

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along. 

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?” 

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage. 

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?” 

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?” 

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess— 

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you. 

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms. 

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender. 

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips. 

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure. 

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!” 

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.” 

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.” 

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back. 

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.” 

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins. 

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.” 

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel smut imagines #spiderman x reader smut #marvel smut #heh I am going to pass out #I.. #goodnight im off me ass sjdjjsxj

[shreddedleopard]

Twelve-million more reasons Historia and Levi are part of the Endgame. With Pictures.

You can read the first post I made on this here:

10 reasons it would make narrative sense for Levi and Historia’s character arcs to end together.

(This is the mega-evolved version.)

Okay, I’m going to put this out there now, and before you judge me, please just read the posts. You don’t have to agree. This is just an idea. But it makes a stupid amount of sense, at least to me. So here's your fair warning (and now I'm being bold): If you don’t want to potentially be spoiled, Do Not Read On.

Here’s the Theory:

Historia Reiss will give birth to a half-Ackerman child, and together with Levi, from the ashes and ruins of the world Eren destroyed, they will welcome the dawn of a new age for humanity, where Ymir’s curse and the power of the Titans is extinct.

I know. I sound like some crazy, Rivahisu nut. Granted, I am, but I’m not mad enough to make a claim like this without a shit-ton of evidence, because it’s such a damn twist it feels like it can’t be true. But just humour me.

Here’s the theory, then we’ll look at why it makes sense and how it might have been foreshadowed. Please note: I have less clue how this will tie in to Eremika endgame, so I haven’t mentioned this as much, but obviously that will be the other very important side of this coin.

10 months ago (In Japan, full term pregnancy is counted as 10 months), at the banquet celebrating completion of the new railroad, Levi and Historia, having had 3 and a bit years to bond over their shared experiences and become close, may have gotten carried away together and shared one night of being a bit more than friends. She’s well into her 18th year at this point, just to clear that up. This resulted in Historia getting pregnant. Okay just stay with me; I know. I know. I sound crazy. But hear me out. So this pregnancy, contrary to the belief of the MPs and rest of the damn world, was the complete opposite of planned. Historia tells Levi, and Levi immediately panics. Because, to steal Kenny’s famous line, Levi thinks to himself ‘I can’t be some kid’s dad.’

 Levi does what he always does best, and shuts down into business mode, telling Historia she will need to cover it up somehow. Historia does as he asks, probably reluctantly, because she really has developed very deep feelings for him during the timeskip, and finds some farm hand to take the blame, likely saying she made a silly mistake with some random and the father doesn’t want anything to do with the child, and so she needs a father for the child not to be illegitimate. Which is her worst nightmare, because of course, that’s what she was. Levi watches the exchange hidden in that famous hood, feeling very conflicted, because although he cares about her, he thinks it best if no one knows that it was him that got the Queen pregnant, and of course, he’s duty bound, with a vow to fulfil, so he has no time to be worrying about a family. (Silly Levi!) 

How ironic this conversation would be if this theory were true. Remember, Historia was completely willing to eat Zeke if needed. Instead, she got pregnant, unplanned, nothing to do with any plot or selfish wishes, just the result of a spontaneous act of love by two people who’ve grown to care for one another a lot. ANYWAY.

Because we know Levi actually has a good heart, he feels immensely guilty for all of this; he's just a product of his upbringing and thinks he doesn’t know the first thing about families, so it's better for all involved if he not be. See where this is going? The old cursed history repeating? Making the same mistakes as our parents? Plus, Levi is bound by his duty. He is incredibly important to the military still, and he cannot just abandon this for any of his own selfish wishes. He’s supposed to be the one to vanquish the beast titan. 

Cue ten months of Historia looking hella depressed and hopeless, and Levi being even more of an asshole than usual to everyone, and not really wanting to say too much at all, as well as making some terrible workplace decisions (lol) poor boy be distracted.

Look at his face 😭

Yes Levi. A month. Which means Historia is now due and you’re still stuck with beardy, without a solution and pretty soon no reason for the MPs not to turn the mother of your child into a Titan.

That’s what that face is. I thought he looked a bit weird first time I read these panels 🤔 He didn’t know about the wine. We see that later. Anyway, I keep getting distracted, stop. I’ll come back to this.

But fear not; Levi will have a choice to make. 

So this is where it gets a bit more iffy for me, because I'm not sure how it would work, so this could be a way off, BUT. I believe it will come to light that the combination of Royal and Ackerman genes will somehow cancel out a person’s ability to turn into a titan and connection through paths, thus making them truly ‘free.’

The founding titan has the ability to change Eldian physiology, according to what Zeke learned from professor Xavier. 

EDIT: Okay so here’s where I’ve had to tweak this a bit in light of there latest chapter. So we just had Zeke in PATHS. With none other than our second resident genius, and as proclaimed by Eren, the saviour of humanity: Armin. What do our boys have a conversation about? Reproduction and the importance of the small moments in life - it’s these little moments which matter, regardless of the desire or need to recreate. Interesting how both the leaf and baseball link back to what their ideas of ‘family’ became. If Historia and Levi were to be in the same scenario in PATHS, what would their items be? What truly means family to them both? 

Perhaps Armin and Zeke realise what is needed to lift the curse of the titans - maybe a blueprint for genes which can cancel out the connection to PATHS and the founder? If only they had a child with a new type of Royal-Ackerman DNA which might fit the bill ... 

Here’s Levi’s moment. He, with Historia, has created such a child - completely by accident, because of one of those ‘moments’ that both Armin and Zeke mention - moments that are simply just about enjoying what you have with no sense of how it might relate to anything bigger - a real rarity for both of them, considering their roles and constantly being asked to think about the good of humanity as a whole. What a beautiful irony, that in the moment they chose to be selfish and, to use freckled Ymir’s own words, really live for themselves, they set a chain reaction in motion that would ultimately save humanity. 

Where does this leave Eren and Mikasa? Good question. I believe Eren will die once the curse is removed, because tragically he is the character that has been forced to choose humanity over his own personal relationships. As Isayama has said before, Eren is a victim of the story. Mikasa will be the last thing he sees, hence the original dream at the start of the manga, where he wakes up crying. Something like this. But probably a lot better. Yeah.

Out of the ashes of the old world, a new one will be built, but through Historia’s kindness and love, and Levi’s guilt and understanding of what was sacrificed in the past, society will not repeat the same mistakes. The final panel could be Jean holding his child, perhaps with Mikasa, if she ever manages to get over losing Eren. That would be vague enough so that Isayama was able to show it to us already without spoiling much. Or maybe Jean’s dead and it’s not him at all. I don’t know. 😭

Right. Okay. So now you’re going, sweet story, but uh, there’s no way Levi could be the father. He’s so much older. Isayama wouldn't write a moment of romance like that. Not with him and Historia. YOU’RE JUST CRAZY.

Well this is where it get’s interesting. LET ME SHOW YOU. It’s foreshadowed literally everywhere. Right under our noses.

There is so much symbolism.

Dedicate your heart to what? has been Levi’s question recently. What are they all fighting for? What is he fighting for? How will he give meaning to his dead comrades sacrifices? Is killing Zeke really the extent of it? Is vengeance the true meaning of their sacrifices? Or is it something a lot more hopeful?

The answer is shown to us in the opening credits. And the ending credits. Several times. 

Levi says so himself - he keeps messing fulfilling the vow up - why? Why is he so worried about killing Zeke? 

Eren has the same questions to consider. Which PATH is the right one to take - revenge and violence with the rumbling, or love ... with Mikasa. We are literally shown what their choices will be in two virtually identically designed panels, which I’ll show you. Tragically, Eren’s choice is taken from him. He is a victim to the story - he must chose the path that saves humanity. Levi and Eren have been bound together through the theme of choices, and taking the ones which leave you with the least regrets, throughout this entire manga.

The upcoming anime episodes literally plot out the timeline of Levi and Historia’s changing attitude to one another, and then Historia’s pregnancy, it’s just so cleverly subtle. Isayama even tells us when/ during what event her child was probably conceived by just dropping dates in from other, seemingly unrelated plot lines.

Zeke gives pointed comments to Levi constantly - every other line of his is either a different jab at Levi about Historia’s pregnancy, a veiled question, or a reminder that he’s under the pressure of a 10 month time limit to do something about him, or Historia will have to eat him once she’s given birth. We start to see Levi unravel because of this, and make mistakes over and over.

It’s in official art. It’s in the soundtrack. Its in music videos. There’s interviews from Isayama that, when read in light of these ideas, suddenly take on a whole new meaning.

Isayama even trolls us. He’s laughing in our faces, the madman. Like, gotchu 🤣 suckers. While we’re all on Reddit and Twitter like, ‘Levi’s character has become so stagnated! He’s making such poor choices or not giving anything to the plot at all. All that’s left for him now is to give up and die! Be at peace, your story is over.’ OOF. Or, ‘Historia has just been forgotten! She’s become such a pointless character. Isayama just got bored with her and sidelined her.’

I’m going to try and write stuff up in the rough categories below, but these might change. I’ll link them when I’m done, and then pin this post. I’m a bit of a rambler so heads up - this may take a while 😅

There’s also a ton of people I have to mention who have contributed to this - I didn’t spot it by myself. I’ll tag them in the finished post too.

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 1

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 2

Historia and Levi’s Miscalculation: A manga tale featuring the Jaeger Bros., Pt. 3

Ackerman-Royal Bloodline and Levi’s Choice Pt. 1

Levi’s Choice Pt. 2

Suns, Moons and Songs

Akatsuki No Requiem - Right theory, Wrong guy

The Farmer and The Cattle Farming Goddess, or WHAT’S IN A NAME.

Mistakes of our parents and breaking the cycle

Memories from the future & Levi’s Guilt

Watch this space. And hold on to your pants. If I’m right, I’m getting very drunk.

#shingeki no kyojin spoilers #shingeki no kyojin manga theory #historia pregnancy #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman #historia reiss #rivahisu

[mythiccheroacademia]

No, this is 

A/N: Talk about record timing. Can’t believe I got this out in one go. This is the last part of the three part Sero fanfic series. No more angst. Y’all got lucky with this one ;)

Sorry for the mushiness. You and Sero are simps™️. It was kind of ugly.  However, it couldn’t be helped. 

I had fun writing this. I hope you had fun too. Enjoy 🖤

Pairing: Sero X Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, not graphic but heavily implied under-aged sex that teenagers don’t do (hope you noted the sarcasm), and fluffiness!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

No, this is

It was 24 days post-breakup. You were doing better. Much better. There were still days when the tears would burn, but it was nothing crippling. Not like it used to be. Besides, between training and your academics, you didn’t have time to mope around. You might be heartbroken, but you weren’t going deter your life because of it.

You sat on your couch, studying for your Calculus test the next day. The busy work had been down to a minimal, so you had more time to study for exams. For now, you were reviewing everything you and Momo had reviewed during the evening.

Then your phone buzzed.

You squinted as you read the name, assuring yourself you weren’t seeing wrong.

It was Sero.

It had been over three weeks since you received a text from him. And vice-versa. You almost forgot his contact was in your phone. Hagakure had said texting him in a moment of weakness would mean double heartache for you. So, you made yourself suppress any urges to text him.

There was a voice inside your head to ignore the message. It was only recently that you had been okay with seeing him on a daily basis. And the class dynamic was going back to normal. You didn’t want to ruin it again—

He double—no—triple texted.

Maybe you shouldn’t have opened it as quickly as you did.

Sero: Hey, how are you doing?

Sero:

Okay, that was probably weird. I’m sorry for texting you after all this time. I know I’m probably the last person you want on your phone so, I’ll make these next few paragraphs as quick as possible

Sero:

At first, I thought time apart would be good for us. 24 hours after, I was a mess, but seeing you smile and laugh…I thought I could suck it up and move on if you were too. Three weeks in, and I’m going crazy not being able to talk to you. I know it’s almost been a month and I am every bit of a coward for only now growing the balls to finally reach out to you, but I need you to know this. I didn’t want to break-up. I never did. I only said that because I was angry, defensive and I wanted to hurt you. It was in the heat of the moment, but that’s no excuse. I was being a dick. I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean to be condescending. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I never mean to make you feel like I don’t have time for you.

Sero: I would spend every waking moment with you if I could, but it’s just been a bit overwhelming lately with school. Something I know you can relate to and I’m sorry was acting like I was alone in that. I feel like such an asshole for letting you go. You’re worth fighting for, Y/N. These past 18 months have been so amazing and I’m not ready to let that go. I never want to. I want to be by your side through thick and thin. I’m sorry for not showing you that as of late, but I swear it still holds true

Sero: Long story short, I’m willing to fix this if you want to. I want to talk. Face to face. If you don’t want to get back together, I understand. I will respect your decision no matter what. I just want to make sure both of us lay our issues on the table so, at the very least, we get closure and, hopefully, stay friends. Know that you will always have me as your biggest supporter, even if it’s not in the way I want to be

Sero: I love you, Y/N. Now and forever. I’m so sorry I ever hurt you

He watched the dots in the chat bubble bounce, on and off, for 30 minutes.

You: Hey

Sero: Hey

You: Apology accepted. Thank you for reaching out and I didn’t mean to leave you on read. I just had to type up my corny paragraph in notes before I sent it to you. You know how I get

Sero: Of course. And even if you did mean to, I would deserve it

Sero: And I’m all ears…or eyes?

You laughed at that. Even after all this time, he was still cracking jokes.

You: I thought I could make peace with what happened that night. It was so hard going to bed, knowing we had fought and not making up. But you looked like you were moving on and I didn’t want you to pity me. So, I chose to move on to. Or, at least I tried to.

You; The truth is, I never wanted to break-up with you. I don’t even know why I ever suggested the idea. I was mad and I just started rambling, finding whatever I could say to hurt you like I was hurting. I’m sorry for that. It makes me feel happy that you feel the same way. When I heard you agree with me, I felt like I could’ve died right there. I thought ‘I just helped him get rid of myself.’ I felt like the biggest idiot for ruining our relationship. Thank you for apologizing, but I also have things to apologize for.

You: I’m sorry for storming in your room with an attitude. I’m sorry for being a hypocrite and getting angry with you whenever you had schoolwork. That’s important and I was being a jerk. When I confronted you, I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that either. I haven’t loved anyone like I love you, Sero. Losing you broke my heart in ways I didn’t think were possible. 18 months isn’t enough time. I probably sound selfish, but I want more. With you. Only you. I want to talk it out. I know we can fix this. I want to so badly because I love you too much to let you go

You: I’m so sorry for hurting you

Sero: apology accepted. not to be annoying, but you don’t know how happy I am rn. i’d kiss you if i could

You: simp

You: talk tonight?

Sero: look who’s talking

Sero: and as much as I want to, you have the calculus test tomorrow, don’t you? I want you to get all the study time you can

Sero: tomorrow night?

You: no, you have tutoring for the Japanese Lit exam Friday. I know how hard you’ve been working in that class, so I want you to put all your energy on that

You: we can talk after school Friday?

Sero: okay, sounds good

You: okay

You: thank you for not giving up on me

Sero: never

Sero: I love you, baby. I’m sorry again

You: I know. I love you more

Sero: impossible

…

The next day, your classmates were very confused to see the two of you walk into homeroom together. They gaped as you laughed at a joke he cracked.

After nearly a month of ignoring one another, you two were suddenly keke-ing it up? What?

Your friends wanted answers. So, you were forced to tell them after class. Most of them were happy the two of you would talk it out. They respected your split but missed how happy you two when you were together. It just made sense.

Mina and Bakugo said they would only be happy if the talk went well. Bless their hearts.

On Friday night, you were just about to text Sero to ask where and when you’d talk. Before you could send the message, a knock on your window made you jump.

“Helloooo~” the perpetrator goofily sung, dangling by his tape.

You rolled your eyes as you opened the window to let him in.

“You scared the shit out of me. I thought you said no more dangling by windows like a stalker?” you teased.

“I did?” he chuckled.

You let him use your shoulder as support as you held his waist and he climbed through the window. Detaching himself from the used tape, he finally stood on his feet, but his arms never left you.

A moment passed between you two as you stared at one another. Sero only looked at your smile for three seconds before he took your lips with his own. Your hands threaded through his hair as his cupped your cheeks, squeezing out all the space between you.

The kiss was firm, desperate, and it kind of hurt; but it was everything you two needed at that moment. It was a crash course of the 28 days you spent apart. The feeling of your lips pressed against his was arresting. You couldn’t think. All you could do was relish in the feeling of relief. Relief that you were re-learning that he tasted like warm cinnamon and spice.

It was oxygen that separated you two. You kissed one of his hands on your cheeks and Sero connected your foreheads.

“I missed you,” he whispered, against your lips. “I was an idiot.”

“You were.” You softly kissed him, biting his bottom lip and enjoying the way he groaned. “But I was too. I missed you so much.”

“Forgive me?”

“Only if you’ll forgive me.”

“Always,” he smiled.

You returned it tenfold. “Always,” you repeated.

Then your lips found one another again. This time, you drew impossibley closer. Your arms found purchase around his neck as his hands slid down to your hips. Your tongues explored the warm cavern of the other’s mouth, making up for lost time. You moaned into him and Sero felt his dick twitch. One hand gripped the back of your head, tilting your head so he could have even more access. His other hand gripped your ass, making you whine in need. Just as your hands touched the warm skin on his taut stomach, Sero pulled your head back.

“Fuck—wait, baby,” he panted.

“What?” you hissed, pissed he was interrupting.

Even with his eyes clouded with lust, Sero would always prove to be the rational one in the relationship.

“W-we still have things we need to talk about.”

“Hanta, you walked in here, your hair in a ponytail, and no underwear under your sweatpants. Your grey sweatpants,” you enunciated. “And you wanna talk?”

“W-well, this is important and—” He tried to continue even as you forced yourself onto his neck. He forgot how sensitive he was there. And were you always this good with your tongue? “A-and—shit—I mean, we promised to talk…talk about wh-what weeee neeeed…oooh right there sweetheart—fuck! No!”

He pulled you away again, this time glaring down at you. However, he didn’t manage long from seeing your glistening lips from sucking on his skin. Your eyes glowed in pride at the darkening mark and they flickered upwards, meeting his crumbling resolve. You licked your bottom lip, eyeing him like he was a four-course meal.

You were gonna kill him one day.

“We need to talk about how to improve our relationship,” he gulped.

You quirked an eyebrow but smiled. “How about a deal? We get rid of this,” he curses as you palm his erection. “And then we can spend the night talking, yeah?”

He didn’t even miss a beat.

“Bet.”

His mouth was on yours in an instant. You figure yourselves out between kisses.

“Door?”

“Locked,” you confirmed. “Condoms?”

Sero hissed out another curse. “Shit, no. I didn’t think we’d—”

“Don’t worry about it. I have some in the drawer.” You jump and he effortlessly catches you so your secure on his hips. The adornment in his eyes makes your stomach do flips. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him. You can’t believe you almost let him go.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing you almost impossibly soft.

You return it. “I love you too. Now, make love to me, Sero Hanta.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A third of the night was spent tangled beneath the sheets, letting your bodies explore each other until not a single curve or scar was left untouched. After burning through five condoms, the other third was left for conversation. Vulnerable moments were shared. Some tears were shed, but those intimate truths would forever be treasured. Finally, the remainer of the night was spent asleep, wrapped in the other’s arms. A silent vow floating between your lips that you would never let go.

Because, this truly was better.

#sero x reader #sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #mha x reader #sero fanfic #sero imagine #sero scenariio #bnha x reader #mha x poc!reader #mha x black reader #mha romance #bnha romance #bnha simps #honorable mentions: #bakugo #mina ashido #class 1-a is invested #sero smut but not really #kind of sad this is ending but i'm glad it's on a good note

[btsslowburnfic]

The Arrangement Chapter 4

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: The job interview continues, and Yoongi finally takes an interest

Author’s Note: I wrote a massive amount of this story last weekend and I am super happy with it. I can’t wait to share the rest of the chapters with you guys each Thursday <3 

Previous chapter here  ---------------------------------

You left Grindhouse feeling better about the job. Mostly. It was clear that Kim Namjoon, you resolved to try and use his real name in case you ended up working together, wasn’t your biggest fan but he did respect that you had researched the position. 

Parts of the job were definitely strange. The strangest part? Agreeing to get married if the client decided “he wanted to.” No pressure. Totally a normal thing.  You thought back to the interview

--------

“I’m sorry. So this is like a mail-order bride type thing?” You wrinkled your brow in confusion.

“Technically internet-order bride, and don’t make that face, it will give you wrinkles,” Namjoon replied waving his hand in front of his face.

“Ok fine. Walk me through a day in this job.”

“Huh. This is usually where half the girls laugh at me and leave.”

You awkwardly shrugged your shoulders and waited for him to answer your question.

“Wake up, check the itinerary for the day. A work schedule will be emailed to you every morning by 7 am. Ensure the client makes it to their appointments on time, accompany the client to events both domestic and international, organize small social events. Any and all of these things. Whatever the client asks for. I’m sure he’ll have work for you to do. You are also responsible for posting appropriately to social media about your burgeoning love story,” Namjoon looks boredly over at the door, surprised that Yoongi never came back.

You wrote down some notes. “ Will I be provided social media accounts? I don’t really want to use my own. “

“Yes, they would be monitored and managed by BigHit behind the scenes.”

“Ok.” You jotted a few things down. “I saw that I would be living on-premise. Would I still be able to see my family and how far away is the location?”

“Yes. The apartment is actually at BigHit Headquarters. Several floors are dedicated to staff apartments. You may see your siblings if you put in appropriate time off requests and mark yourself out. You may not skip important company events. You must also sign a nondisclosure agreement upon the beginning of the contract. Your family and everyone else can’t know you are being compensated for your role outside of personal assistant. As you can imagine, it would look bad for the company.”

“Ok. That makes sense.”

“One last question [Y/N]: Why are you so nonchalant about this job? The marriage stipulation had most of the girls running off. And I can’t tell you how many cards I handed out that never signed in.”

You pouted, “ And here I thought I was special.” You laughed dryly as he rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’m not getting any younger. Dating sucks. I might as well get paid to do it.” You flipped your hair behind your shoulders. “This is a lot of money. If I end up getting married, it’s just a piece of paper. As long as the guy’s not a total asshole I really don’t care.”

“Oh yeah?” Namjoon clicks his pen a few times, “What if he’s really ugly? Is the money good enough to make up for that?”

You don’t miss a beat, “I’m more of a personality gal myself. Which may explain why you and I aren’t exactly hitting it off,” you mused and he just laughed at you, beginning to acclimate to your dry sense of humor.

“Yeah. That’s why.” He rolled his eyes. “All  right. We’re done here. If you make it to the next round you’ll receive an email within the next few days.

----

Well that was a fucking disaster, Namjoon thought as he walked back over to the office. Three. He had started with 50 cards distributed. 20 returns. And three candidates that showed an interest after finding out more about the job. He groaned. Why had BPD thought this was a good idea? He took his phone out as he entered the lobby and to Namjoon’s absolute shock he saw that Yoongi had scheduled a meeting for the two of them that afternoon. 

Two things were extremely out of character: one that Yoongi had even scheduled a meeting at all; most of the time Yoongi had to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to the meetings. Two, that he actually took the time to put it in the agenda. He most often showed up when he felt like, walked into Namjoon’s office, bypassed a yelling Jimin, and then complained about something. 

Namjoon rode the elevator up to his floor. He didn’t get a chance to eat since the interviews had taken all of his lunch hour. He exited and walked over to Jimin. “Order me lunch. Surprise me.” 

“Of course Sir,” Jimin dutifully replied and pulled up the food ordering App. 

“Thank you. When Yoongi gets here send him on in.”

Jimin straightened up a few items on his desk, “Usually I have trouble keeping him out sir, but I understand.” Jimin was dying to know what was going on. Yoongi and Namjoon usually avoided each other but had interacted thrice now within the week. He resolved to make a coffee delivery mid-meeting. Yes. Excellent. Jimin smirked as he placed the food order and sent it. 

Namjoon took out the three remaining folders and placed them on his desk. Hopefully this meeting meant Yoongi had stopped being a little shit and decided to go along with it. He took out the paperwork he had prepared for Yoongi, a similar NDA to the one he had discussed with [Y/N].

An hour passed where he ate his lunch and caught up on emails.

Yoongi exited the elevator and lazily walked over to Jimin. “Is Namjoon ready?”

Jimin raised his delicate eyebrows. “You’re actually stopping to ask? Well that’s a first.”

Yoongi stuffed his hands into his pockets and rolled his eyes. “I’ll just head in then.”

Jimin sat there, utterly confused but also strangely excited. He ordered two coffees in preparation for his eavesdropping. Yoongi had never, ever stopped at the reception desk. Or made an appointment. Since when was he playing nice?

Jimin: GUYS. Yoongi and Namjooon are meeting for the third time this week. And Yoongi actually made an appointment.

JK: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

V: Are you serious?

Jimin: Yes. I’m sneaking in there in half an hour. I’ll report back.

Jimin didn’t know why he cared so much. It was just that Yoongi was such a mystery compared to the rest of the guys. He was good looking, talented, but kept to himself and seemed to resent everything and everyone else that worked there.

Yoongi opened the door to the office. Namjoon looked up from his desk, “Yoongi. You left the interviews early, I’m surprised to see you made an appointment this afternoon.”

Yoongi walked closer to the desk, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah well I had seen everything I needed to see, and heard everything I needed to hear.” He looked down at the desk. “Are those all the candidates that are left?” 

“Yes. Unsurprisingly it was difficult to explain the situation without sounding like we are running an escort service, as you can imagine.”

Yoongi had been practicing the conversation he wanted to have since he got back to the building earlier after the girl returned his headphones. “Are there any headshots included in these?” He asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Nope,” Namjoon replied, looking over the NDA. “You said you didn’t want to be, and I quote, unduly influenced by physical appearance.” 

“Huh. Ok.” Yoongi responded. He didn’t want Namjoon to know that he had met one of the women who had applied for the job. Wait. She had said she worked somewhere nearby. “Can I see the resumes?”

“Knock yourself out.” He said, pushing the papers toward the edge of the desk.

He flipped through them. The first one was a model. Nope. The second one was an office worker. The third one listed two jobs, including Club Tokki. That was the woman he had met earlier. She had gone back and completed the interview. Despite trying to school his face, he let a small smile creep across his face.

“Find something you like there?” Namjoon asked. 

“These two sound interesting.” He handed two of the folders back to Namjoon. 

Namjoon looked at the two he had kept, “Of course you dumped the model. Here we have Lisa. She’s nice. Boring but Nice. And [Y/N]. You know what? I’m not even going to tell you anything. She’s something. Let’s invite her just to see what happens.” 

Yoongi stood there for a moment, swiping his lips with his tongue. Really? It had been that easy? 

“Here. You need to sign this. It’s an NDA about the situation. As far as anybody else knows, the girl we hire is your assistant. None of this was arranged before time. Additionally, you are to tell her that you want this, not that Big Hit is forcing you to do this.”

Yoongi puffed out his cheeks, “Why does that matter if she’s in on it?”

“Plausible deniability on the company’s part I’m sure. I didn't write the contract, BPD and the attorneys did.”

Yoongi sat down and started to read through the document.

Jimin knocked lightly on the door before entering. “Coffee gentleman? I have two iced Americanos right here.” He walked towards the desk.

“Thanks Jimin, put them on the desk.” Namjoon said, standing with the files in his hand.

“Ooo am I getting a new coworker?” Jimin tried to ask casually.

“Yoongi’s getting an assistant.” Namjoon responded.

“Good maybe someone will actually answer when I call down to the studio.” Jimin quipped.

Yoongi snorted, “As if I would let her in MY studio.”

“Enjoy your coffee, Sugar,” Jimin said, purposefully pronouncing his alias incorrectly.

“It’s Suga. Thanks for the coffee.”

Jimin blinked slowly, not sure how to respond to Yoongi saying something half-nice to him and slowly exited the room.

Yoongi picked up the coffee, sipping it while he finished reading the document. “Alright. Give me the pen.”

Namjoon was excited to be moving forward on this stupid project. If it actually worked, he hoped he would have to babysit Yoongi way less. “Here you go. You need to come to the next round of interviews. I think it’s important for you to meet each other.”

“Yeah, ok.” Yoongi signed the paperwork and stood up. “Put it on the calendar. See you.”

NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist:  @lidda​ @anpanman-sonyeondan​ @firefairy1​

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts au fanfic #bts suga x you #bts yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #suga x reader #suga x you

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Seven

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Seven

Jace knew they were in trouble as soon as he saw Maia’s face. The Cheshire Cat had nothing on her grin as she sauntered into Java Jones Monday afternoon, the last of their group to arrive.

She pulled a chair up between Jace and Simon, spun it around with a flourish to sit on it backwards, and flung an arm around both their shoulders. “So, is this the part where I say mazel tov?”

“I am going to literally murder my sister,” Simon announced.

Lily perked up. “Wait, what happened?” She looked between Simon and Jace, then fixed an intense gaze on Maia. “Did one of them finally break down and call you? Why didn’t you assholes mention anything? Who won the bet?”

“Oh, I got a call,” Maia said. “Not from either of these fools, though.”

Jace drained his coffee cup, wishing it were vodka instead. There was clearly no stopping this, so he might as well just face the music now.

“According to Becky, she and her grandmother caught these two in a storage closet about to get down and dirty, and Jace tried to cover up what they were doing by pretending he was down on his knees to propose.”

“Oh no,” Maureen said through a fit of giggles. “That’s terrible.”

Jace flipped her off, which only made her giggle harder.

“Don’t worry,” Maia said, patting Simon’s shoulder, “Becky said she’s like ninety percent sure your grandma didn’t know what was really up.”

“I can hide two bodies,” Simon told her. “I have a van.”

“And my sister is studying forensics,” Jace added. “I bet she’d tell me how to cover up a crime scene if I asked.”

“Every time you bring up your family, I just have more questions,” Lily said.

“Wait,” Maureen said suddenly, holding up her hands. Everyone looked at her. “If you guys are giving each other clandestine blowjobs, does this mean everyone in our friend group has slept together now?”

“Nope,” Bat said, and Jace shook his head.

“Wait, really?” Simon sounded genuinely surprised.

“We thought for sure you two were hooking up back when Simon and I were dating,” Maureen added, looking at Bat. “Jace was over at your place pretty much all the time.”

Jace stared intently into his empty coffee cup. He wasn’t about to tell them he’d spent so much time at Bat’s because he couldn’t quite stomach spending time in his apartment when Simon and Maureen were there, together.

“Jace was over at my place sulking because he got his ass dumped.” Which was the excuse Jace had given him. “He swore me to secrecy because he didn’t want you guys giving him shit for getting his heart broken.”

“You seem to be a little confused about the whole concept of secrecy, though,” Jace said.

“You could’ve told us,” Maureen said, earnest and sympathetic. “We wouldn’t tease you about something if you were really hurting.”

“Well, I’d tease you a little,” Lily said.

“You had your heart broken?” Simon’s voice was soft, and when Jace met his eyes, he found a confused curiosity there. Which of course there would be, Jace realized, given the conversation they’d had on the drive home, where he’d admitted that he hadn’t been serious about anyone since Clary.

“I wasn’t heartbroken,” Jace said, putting as much disdain as he could manage into the word. “Sasha just had some very strong opinions when I told her I didn’t want to get serious, and I kind of wanted to lay low for a while after.” The part about Sasha wasn’t even a lie.

“Oh,” Lily said, dragging the word out with relish. “You were embarrassed because she told you off in public.”

Bat looked skeptical. “You really expect me to believe you spent three weeks curled up on my couch eating Double Stuf Oreos because your ego was bruised?”

“Of course not.” Jace grinned at him. “That was because you’re a sucker who kept buying me Double Stuf Oreos.”

Maia smacked his arm hard enough to sting. “No taking advantage of Bat’s kind and generous spirit.”

Bat looked unconvinced. “Well, next time you decide to hide out at my place because you definitely didn’t get your heart broken, you’re on your own for Oreos.”

Simon was still watching him. “I would’ve shared my Oreos if I knew you needed them.” His tone was far too serious for a conversation about Oreos. Like maybe he knew Jace was hiding something. Like maybe he suspected what Jace was hiding.

Jace flashed him a shit-eating grin. “I hope you know I’m taking that as an invitation to steal your Oreos whenever I want from now on.”

“Dude, you can’t just steal Oreos!” Maureen protested. “That’s like rule number two of the roommate code.”

“What’s rule number one?” Bat asked.

“Booze,” Maureen and Lily answered in unison.

“And for everyone who keeps asking how we managed to share a dorm and not murder each other freshman year,” Lily continued, “this is the answer.”

“Truth,” Maureen agreed.

This sparked a lively debate about what did and did not constitute violations of roommate code that lasted until Jace had to leave for his evening class.

Two days later, a package of Double Stuf Oreos appeared on Jace’s desk. He didn’t bring them up, and neither did Simon.

~~~

Jace wasn’t sure exactly how they started studying together on the couch instead of their separate rooms. It might have been that one group study session where everyone else had to bail early. But somewhere along the line, he’d started dragging his textbooks and laptop out to the living room any time he needed to get work done. Half the time, he found Simon already there, and the times he didn’t, Simon usually joined him pretty soon after.

And it was…nice. Comfortable in a way Jace tried not to think about. Just another item on his ever-growing list of things not to think about. Conveniently, his assigned paper on the Thirty Years’ War didn’t leave room for thinking about much of anything else.

Which was probably why it took him so long to notice on this particular evening that he and Simon had somehow migrated from their usual spots at either end of the couch to sharing its center. And once he did notice, all thoughts of the Second Defenestration of Prague went out the window, the warmth of Simon’s leg against his own and occasional bump of their shoulders as they worked driving him to distraction.

It was stupid, really. It wasn’t like they never touched. In fact, Jace would bet they’d spent more of their time together over the past few months touching than not, in increasingly creative ways.

But they didn’t touch like this, without teasing or seduction or intent. It made Jace feel twitchy. Restless. There was a part of him that wanted to sink into it, to let the warmth of Simon’s touch seep under his skin. But a far greater part was telling him to pull away, to retreat back to his end of the couch. Or maybe to turn and press Simon back into the couch cushions and turn this into something far more familiar. Something safer.

“Hey,” Simon said, making Jace flinch in surprise. If Simon noticed, he didn’t let on. “I was gonna make stroganoff for dinner tonight, and I’m pretty ready for a break. Any chance I could talk you into slicing mushrooms for me while I start on the beef?”

It took Jace several seconds to process the question, so far from what he’d been thinking. “Um. Yeah. Sure, sounds good.”

Once they made their way to the kitchen, Jace was grateful to be back on familiar ground. They didn’t cook together often—didn’t have much time for cooking at all, really—but they’d done it a handful of times, and they worked well together in a kitchen, which was not something Jace could say about most of his friends, or his family.

It was also, he realized as he stood next to Simon at the stove, boiling egg noodles while Simon stirred the roux, acutely domestic. It was another addition to the list of things he wasn’t going to think about.

When they returned to the living room, bowls of saucy noodles and beef in hand, Simon sat right back down in the middle of the couch, where he’d been before they got up to make dinner. Jace hesitated only an instant before reclaiming his spot next to him. Simon flashed him a quick smile before pulling his financial analytics textbook over to balance precariously on his knee so he could read while he ate. Jace tore his gaze away, turning his attention half-heartedly back to his notes.

By the time he finished eating, Jace had realized two very important things. First, he needed to make another trip to the library if he wanted to have enough sources to back up his thesis. Second, it would be far too easy to get used to nights like tonight, and that wasn’t something he could allow himself to do. Before he could make himself do something about it, though, Simon shifted, half-turning to pull his knees up onto the couch and letting his head rest back against Jace’s shoulder.

“This okay? The light’s better like this.”

Jace took maybe a second too long to answer. “It’s fine.”

He placed his empty bowl on the coffee table—gingerly, so as not to jostle Simon—and returned to his reading. When he shifted a few minutes later, tossing one arm over the back of the couch and letting Simon rest against his chest, it was just a matter of comfort, really. Letting his hand come to rest on Simon’s chest, fingers absently toying with the neckline of his shirt, was not, but Simon didn’t object.

When his fingers encountered skin-warm metal, it took Jace several seconds to realize it. By the time he did, his fingers had already followed the line of the chain down to the center of Simon’s chest, where the object that hung from it rested beneath his t-shirt. He recognized its shape at the same time he felt Simon go unnaturally still.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Simon said in a rush.

Jace traced the shape of the ring through Simon’s shirt. His ring. “It’s a good place to keep it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jace agreed, flattening his hand against Simon’s chest. The ring pressed into his palm, the telltale beat of Simon’s heart thrumming behind it. He wondered if his own were beating just as fast.

“You know,” he said slowly, “Alec is getting married next month.”

Simon relaxed against him with a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah, I think I heard something about that in the approximately five hundred phone calls you’ve had in the last couple weeks.”

“A best man’s work is never done, apparently.” He took a breath, let it out. “But, I was thinking, you should come with me.”

Simon craned his neck to look at him. “Like, to play your boyfriend again, or…?”

As my date. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t force the words past his lips. He wasn’t ready to risk that he might be reading this wrong. He’d done it before, and for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on, it felt so much more dangerous now.

“I mean, it would be weird if you didn’t, right?” he said instead. “Since my entire family thinks we’re together still.”

“Right.” Simon looked back at the book in his lap, but he didn’t make any move to pull away. Jace could almost imagine he sounded disappointed. “Totally weird. I think Clary’s expecting me to be there, anyway.”

“Cool. I’ll RSVP you as my plus-one.”

Simon made a soft noise of affirmation and returned to his reading. Jace tried to go back to his, but he found himself unable to concentrate. After reading the same paragraph five times and not retaining a single word of it, he gave up and let his head loll against the back of the couch, cheek resting lightly against the top of Simon’s head. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift.

Jace was pulled out of sleep sometime later by gentle fingers stroking through his hair. He scrunched up his face and made an unhappy noise; he wasn’t ready to be awake.

“If you’re going to sleep, you should go to bed.”

Jace cracked an eye open to find Simon watching him with a fond smile. Still half-asleep, it was easy to smile back, something warm and soft settling in his chest. Sometime while he slept, they’d shifted again so Simon was leaning back against the arm of the couch with Jace sprawled half on top of him. Simon’s books were stacked neatly on the coffee table. Jace wondered how long they’d been there.

“‘M comfy.”

Simon chuckled. “You won’t be if you stay here all night and wake up with a sore back.”

Jace thought that spending the night with Simon as his pillow might be worth waking up with a sore back, but the fog of sleep had lifted enough that the feeling of impending danger was returning. He pushed himself up to sitting and immediately missed Simon’s warmth.

“I think I’m a couple decades away from waking up with a sore back from one night spent on the couch.”

He reached for his dirty bowl, still sitting on the table, but Simon stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Leave it. You’re tired; I’ve got the dishes.”

Jace frowned at him.

“Go to bed,” Simon insisted with a laugh. “You’re obviously exhausted.���

It was the laugh that got him. The way Simon’s eyes crinkled at the corners. The way he always smiled wide enough to show teeth. The way it never failed to tug at something inside Jace, urging him to smile back no matter how much he might resist it. Except this time it was less of a tug than a wrench that threatened to break him wide open.

Jace remembered, with sudden, vivid clarity, that drunken conversation he’d had with Maia last year. The one he tried to forget ever happened.

They’d all be hanging out at Maia’s new apartment, a tiny studio that wasn’t really big enough to host a six-person housewarming party, but they’d made it work because she was so proud of finally making good enough tips she could afford to live in her own place off campus.

Everyone but Jace had early morning classes that semester, so he’d stayed behind to keep the party going with Maia while the others had headed home. Jace didn’t remember how many shots it had taken for him to start complaining about Simon’s propensity for wandering around the apartment in only a towel, but he absolutely remembered Maia’s knowing grin.

“Someone’s got a crush.”

“It’s not a crush,” Jace had insisted. “He’s just annoyingly hot.” If he’d been sober, he wouldn’t have spoken the next words. He wouldn’t have even let himself think them. “And I bet he’d be stupidly easy to fall in love with, too.”

And then Maia had laughed so hard she’d fallen over onto her cheap, beige carpet that still smelled faintly of new plastic while Jace was left to deal with the slowly dawning realization of what he’d just said.

“Before you fall asleep again,” Simon prompted, snapping Jace’s mind back to the present. Where Simon was smiling at him with an indisputable fondness that made Jace feel raw and exposed.

“Right,” Jace said, practically jumping up from the couch. “Bed. Thanks. For,” he waved his hand vaguely, “dishes and whatever.”

“No problem,” Simon said, bemused. “Sleep well.”

Jace understood what that feeling of danger was about now. It seemed there was some truth to that old adage about finding answers at the bottom of a bottle; it had been so easy, he wasn’t even sure when he’d fallen in love.

~~~

“You’re sure this is a classic?” Jace eyed the grainy opening shots of the movie playing on Simon’s laptop with some skepticism.

They normally did movie night out in the living room, on the flat-screen TV that had probably cost more than every other piece of furniture in their apartment combined, but Simon insisted a film this old would look ridiculous on a large HD screen. Considering how bad it looked even on Simon’s old laptop, it was probably the right call. And Jace wasn’t going to complain about having to squish together on Simon’s bed so they could both see the screen, even if that did make it feel perilously close to being a date.

“Cult classic,” Simon corrected. “Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama is, like, peak so-bad-it’s-good 80’s horror comedy. And they’re making a sequel with the original cast, so you have to watch the original.”

Jace grabbed a fistful of popcorn from the bowl in Simon’s lap. “You mean so you can drag me to the sequel when it comes out?”

“Exactly.” Simon grinned at him. “Thanks for offering to see it with me.”

“That’s not what just happened,” Jace said around a mouthful of popcorn.

“Agree to disagree.”

The movie turned out to be surprisingly entertaining, film quality and 80’s aesthetics notwithstanding. And the atrocious special effects. And, well, the entire plot, really.

“Do you think sororities were really like that back in the 80’s?” Simon wondered as the titular sorority babes outlined the hazing their pledges would undergo.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if some of them still are,” Jace said. “But Greek life isn’t really my thing, even if I have seen the inside of a few sorority houses in my time.”

“Was that supposed to be a flex?”

Jace ignored that comment and pulled out his phone. “Alec might know, though.”

Simon leaned in to watch Jace type, resting his chin on Jace’s shoulder. “I know I’ve only met your brother once, but I’m having trouble picturing him anywhere near a sorority.”

“Alec was in a fraternity in college,” Jace explained.

“Yeah, no, still not seeing it.” Even after Jace sent the text, he didn’t move away.

Alec’s response came only moments later.

why would I know that Phi Beta Kappa is an academic fraternity and sorority girls are well outside my areas of interest

“Okay, that makes sense.” Simon slid the bowl of popcorn off his lap so he could lean more fully into Jace’s side.

maybe ask Iz

Jace snorted and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He reached for the popcorn and gave an irritated huff when he found it just out of reach.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Simon grabbed the bowl and moved it to Jace’s other side. On impulse, Jace caught his hand and laced their fingers together. They hadn’t talked about that night on the couch—not about the casual intimacy or Simon wearing Jace’s ring around his neck or Jace falling asleep on Simon or any of it—but there was no question things were different between them since. Or maybe it was just Jace that was different, knowing how deep he was in this just making him more reckless with his heart.

Simon’s fingers curled around his, his arm coming to rest draped over Jace’s hip as he let out a small, contented sigh.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just Jace. But Jace wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. He could probably have written an entire treatise on navigating hookups, but he had no idea how to navigate…whatever this was. The only experience he had with actual romantic relationships was with Clary, and despite how fucked up they’d both been back then—or maybe even because they’d both been so fucked up—there had never been any ambiguity about how they felt, no questions about what they were to each other. No wondering if she knew she could do so much better than him.

It was different with Simon. Simon, who never seemed fazed by the shit life threw at him. Simon, who actually dated, and always seemed to leave a breakup on good terms. Simon, who held him like he was afraid Jace might break, who fucked him like he wanted him to break.

Simon, who had to know he could do better than Jace.

“Let me guess,” Jace said as the two characters he’d mentally tagged as the protagonists ducked into a closet to escape a demonic minion, “the nerd and the hot bad girl are the only survivors, and they get together at the end.”

Simon gave him an unimpressed look. “You don’t get any points for guessing that. This is a comedy made in the 80’s that leans heavily into the tropes of the era.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why I guessed it. I just figured you’d be into the whole ‘nerd gets the bad girl’ thing.”

“That’s not why I like this movie,” Simon said. “But Spider might have been part of why 12-year-old me liked this movie,” he admitted.

“Thought so,” Jace said smugly.

“You’re the worst.” Simon’s arm tightened around Jace’s waist, belying his words. “I’m seriously questioning why I even like you right now.”

“Because I’m charming, witty, and great in bed.”

The smile Simon flashed him probably shouldn’t have made Jace’s stomach do a pleasant little flip, but it did. “Those are some pretty great selling points.”

“Watch your dumb movie,” Jace said, trying and failing to hide his own smile.

When Jace’s phone buzzed several minutes later during a particularly tense scene, they both jumped. Jace pulled it out to check his new messages, then chuckled and turned the screen so Simon could read Alec’s message.

Magnus says there was at least one sorority exactly like that five years ago also I’m now being subjected to this atrocious movie, so thanks for that

“I knew Magnus would have good taste in movies,” Simon commented.

“I’m disturbed you can even talk about this movie and good taste in the same sentence.”

“Oh, come on,” Simon said reproachfully. “Didn’t you once tell me that any movie with boobs and explosions was a good movie?”

“Yeah, but this movie doesn’t have any—” On screen, the nerd threw a Molotov cocktail at a possessed sorority babe. Jace sighed. “Objection withdrawn.”

Simon flashed him a smug grin. “Admit it, I’ve got fantastic taste.”

Jace smirked. “I do like the way you taste.”

“Not what I—” He cut off as Jace illustrated his point by licking a line up Simon’s throat.

Simon let out a hiss. “You’re going to miss the end of the movie.” He didn’t pull away.

“Told you,” Jace murmured, scraping teeth along his jaw, “I already know the nerd and biker girl are going to survive. I don’t need to see the end.”

Simon turned his head to catch Jace’s lips with his own in a surprisingly gentle kiss, his hand coming up to cup Jace’s cheek. They stayed like that for what felt to Jace like hours but couldn’t actually have been more than a minute or two judging by the tinny screams coming from the laptop speakers.

“What do you need?” Simon whispered when he finally broke the kiss. His tone was teasing, but the way his thumb caressed Jace’s cheekbone was all sincerity.

“Just this,” Jace whispered back, and it was the truest thing he’d ever said.

Then they were kissing again, slow and soft, and Jace thought he might drown in it, thought he might want to drown in it. He kissed Simon like he’d been wanting to for weeks, for months. Maybe longer. He put everything he felt into the kiss—his hope and his love and his fear—and prayed that Simon would understand, that he wouldn’t pull away.

He didn’t.

They kissed until they were breathless with it, until the last strains of the movie’s closing credits had long since faded away, until there was no room for anything in Jace’s thoughts and heart and dreams but Simon. He knew he was grinning like an idiot when they finally broke apart, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Especially not with Simon grinning back at him.

“See?” Jace combed a hand through Simon’s curls. He couldn’t stop touching. “Way better than that movie.”

“You don’t know that,” Simon protested. “You didn’t even watch the end. It could have been twenty straight minutes of boobs and explosions, and you’d never even know.”

“Weirdly, I think I might like kissing you even more than I like boobs and explosions.”

“Wow, high praise.” Simon was still teasing, and Jace suddenly needed him to understand how much he wasn’t really joking.

“No, seriously.” He wrapped a hand around the back of Simon’s neck, drew him close enough to feel his breath. “I—” Words he meant far too much—that would be too much—stuck behind his teeth. “I’m not really here for the movie,” he said instead. “No matter how many boobs or explosions it has. You get that, right?”

“I—yeah.”

There was something subdued and almost vulnerable in Simon’s voice, something that didn’t quite track with the conversation they were having, but before Jace could even catch the thread of it, he was being pushed back into the bed and kissed breathless once again. By the time Simon was tugging his shirt over his head, brushing calloused fingertips over a peaked nipple and making him gasp, Jace thought he must have imagined it.

Simon took him apart slowly, deliberately, maintaining a calm focus even when Jace teased, never altering his pace even when Jace begged. And Jace did beg, edging on desperation before they even got all their clothes off. By the time Simon had him spread out on the bed, opening him up with slick fingers and teasing his dick with strokes far too light to even approach enough, Jace wasn’t sure he was capable of anything but begging.

“Simon, please.” He scrabbled ineffectually at Simon’s shoulders, trying ineffectually to drag him close. The angle was bad for it, but Simon was also strong, something that was easy to forget until they were like this. It was also seriously fucking hot. “Please. Fuck. Need you in me already, please.”

“You’re so beautiful.” There was an edge to Simon’s voice, but Jace still thought he sounded far too composed for what they were doing, for what he was doing to Jace. “God, do you even know?”

Jace couldn’t even begin to answer, because Simon chose that moment to press his fingers very deliberately against Jace’s prostate, and the only words Jace was capable of anymore were garbled curses and Simon’s name.

“You have to know.” Simon withdrew his fingers and all Jace could do was whine in protest. “I bet people tell you all the time.”

Jace shook his head, not sure if he was disagreeing or just objecting to the sudden tragic lack of Simon’s hands on him and in him. Simon pressed a soothing kiss to his knee before pulling away to roll a condom onto his own dick, which took way too long in Jace’s opinion, but it was enough time for Jace to find his voice again.

“Please, Simon.” His voice was half a sob, and he didn’t even care. “Need you.”

“You’ve got me,” Simon breathed, the faintest tremor in his voice as leaned in to line his cock up with Jace’s hole and brushed the lightest of kisses against his lips.

“Yes,” Jace whispered. “Yes, please.”

And then Simon was finally, finally pushing inside, and Jace was rocking down against him, desperate and greedy for everything Simon was willing to give him. It took exactly two thrusts for Simon’s composure to crack completely, and Jace swallowed down his moans as greedily as he took everything else, licking into Simon’s mouth to chase every sound.

Jace would have been embarrassed by how quickly he came after that, lasting maybe a full ten seconds after Simon wrapped a hand around his dick, except that Simon was right there with him, following him over the edge with a barely audible, “Fuck, fuck, Jace, oh god.”

After, they lay next to each other on the bed, catching their breaths. This would normally be when one of them left to go back to their own room, or went to take a shower, or make food, or anything, really, to keep this thing between them from seeming like more than it was. Except it was more for Jace. Maybe for both of them.

“You’ve got me.”

Jace wasn’t sure if Simon had meant the words the way Jace wanted him to, but he wasn’t ready to let go of the possibility that he did. Trying not to overthink it, he curled into Simon’s side, resting a hand on his chest.

For a few seconds, Simon went absolutely still, and Jace thought for sure he’d fucked everything up. But just as cold dread was beginning to claw its way up his throat, Simon let out a shaky breath and cuddled closer, pulling the blanket up to cover them both and covering Jace’s hand with his own. Jace smiled into Simon’s shoulder.

“You’ve got me.”

He would hold onto that for as long as Simon let him.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis #pun absolutely intended #i regret nothing

[metanoiyed-archive]

The Ahistorical “Burning Times”, Or: Why White People Shouldn’t Be Trusted To Record History

*cracking knuckles* If you saw this post about this post, you know what this is about. If not, read them and come back. Without further ado: The Ahistorical “Burning Times”, Or: Why White People Shouldn’t Be Trusted To Record History.

“The important backdrop for this group is the time period that modern witches and pagans refer to as The Burning Times.”

So the first thing you’ll notice about posts or books that mentioned the ‘burning times’ is that they use very purposeful wording and diction. Notice how the OP says ‘that modern witches and pagans refer to as’ and not, “what historians refer to as”? That’s because historian’s don’t refer to it as the burning times, they refer to it as the ‘Witch Craze’ or ‘Witch Hysteria’, where many people in medieval Europe and America [14th-17th century, but 16th and 17th were the most popular years] were often falsely accused of witchcraft and hung - not burned - for the crime. During the Salem Witch Trials, especially, people like to say ‘we are the granddaughters of witches you couldn’t burn’ -- but no witches were even burned at the stake in Salem (1). Accusing someone of witchcraft was very, very often a political tool used by the Roman Catholic Church or others who operated under it to execute whomever they wished, but we’ll get to that in a second.

“Europe and America were thrust into a moral panic and hysteria over alleged satanic witches. Most of those accused were midwives, healers, poor women, women suffering from mental health issues, and women who were practicing preChristian traditions.” So... Yes to: hysteria, healers and women suffering from mental health issues and practicing pre-Christian traditions. No to pretty much everything else. Men who were healers or suffering mental health issues were also accused, but that’s because anyone could call witchcraft like a boy crying wolf and it was believed. In my ‘A Deed Without A Name’ notes, I go over how in some cases it appears that a certain aspect of people who are in some way different can indicate they’re touched, but often in the past I’m inclined to think in most cases it was simply used to execute people. Also, they killed people practicing pre-Christian traditions because they were racist Europeans and colonialists, and most of the time those pre-Christian traditions were by POC. 14th Century-17th Century is by no means pre-Christian, by that point a lot of folk belief in Europe had been touched by Christian belief, not so much that it entirely changed it, but enough. ‘Alleged’ Satanic witches? Are we just purposefully looking away from Isobel Gowdie’s confession before she was executed? Confessions of people [of those who confessed and were actually witches] who made deals with the Devil/Man in Black/Witchfather in some form are overwhelmingly common. (2).

“Many witches fear a return to the Burning Times, when any old woman was burned at the stake for merely existing below the poverty level.” I really have nothing groundbreaking to say about this one, just that I hate the OP for making me look at it and I hope they stub their toe. ‘fear a return to the burning times’ my ass.

“The total number of those murdered under the guise of witch accusations varies widely by source. Many historians have argued that the number is anywhere between 40,000 and 60,000. Other sources, however, have claimed the number is closer to 100,000 with potentially hundreds of thousands more unaccounted for. It has even been suggested that there were 392,000 in Great Britain alone. The highest number, and number that has become part of popular legend, is approximately 9 million (with the fullness of the Crusades and Spanish Inquisition included). It will never be certain how many women, men, and children were killed, and truthfully the numbers game is irrelevant in the face of trauma. Any genocide, no matter how big or small, is a moral stain on our history.”

Other sources? What sources. You don’t name any of yours, I noticed. ‘Any genocide ... a moral stain on our history’ yet I am sure you turn a blind eye to the plight of those right in front of you, while my people suffer a real continued genocide, you make a fantasy crime. Statista did a chart on how many people were tried and executed between 1300 and 1850, and the number is even lower than you think. (3). 

“The Burning Times were a systematic rooting out of female power and autonomy, and non-christian practices. The midwives and healers posed a threat to the structures and systems of politics and medicine... both groups challenging the patriarchy.” This sounds... so fishy. Doesn’t this sound like a weird radical-feminist argument? I’m not implying anything about OP, but the way this whole paragraph reads while trying to include ‘men, women and children’ and then focusing on how this was a whole attack on the women against the patriarchy just... grosses me out, a lot. Because it was never about that, has never been about that, and will never be about that. I also just don’t trust people who refer to women as ‘females’ but that’s just me.

“Most of the following women were (wrongfully) believed to have had sexual intercourse with Satan, signing their names into his black book with their blood.” Again, are we just ignoring Isobel Gowdie’s straight up confession? Or any of the other confessions from Scotland, England, and surrounding areas? This stupid purity culture of wanting to be seen as better to outsiders is so annoying. “I’m not like that trope of witches you’ve seen, we don’t actually have sex with the Devil or sign his black book with blood!” Just because some of us aren’t worried to get our hands dirty and you are doesn’t mean that other witches don’t do that. “wrongfully” where the fuck are you getting your information? Many confessions that they did get included detailed accounts of joining the Man in Black for sabbats, having sex with him, and signing his black book. Not everyone continues the practice today, but some definitely do, they definitely did, and it definitely wasn’t “wrongfully believed”. They were powerful women in their own right. If anything OP, by trying to separate themselves from the legacy of these women, has disgraced them in that way. It takes courage and strength to work with infernal forces from the otherside like that, and here this asshole is just shittin’ on their name pretending they never risked their lives doing it. A source on this from Isobel Gowdie, “As I was going betuix the townes of Drumdewin and the Headis, I met with the Devil, and ther covenanted, in a maner, with him.” and from ‘A Deed Without A Name’ by Lee Morgan, “As we can see when we look over the testimonies of witches from earlier times not everyone is initially approached by an animal spirit. Isobel Gowdie seems to have initially been approached by ‘the Devil’, Bessie Dunlop by a faerie man who claims to have once lived as a human man, others were taken by faeries or by the spirit of another living human practitioner.” (4)

And obviously there are various other sources, these are not the only ones. I’m just too tired to go through my library, cite them all, attach them all - y’all gotta do your own work for once. Read actual history, please. Learn discernment. I don’t even have the energy to go through the list of people the OP put as ‘in memoriam’ because I have no idea if those are historical reasons, either, but honestly I don’t even wanna know. Anyway, it’s bullshit and ahistorical, thanks for coming to my tedtalk. If you push this narrative you owe Black, Native, Jewish people and anyone else otherwise affected by the witch-craze repatriations immediately, I don’t make the rules except I do and those are the rules.

Citations:

Andrews, Evan. “Were Witches Burned at the Stake during the Salem Witch Trials?” History.com, A&E Television Networks, 13 Aug. 2014, www.history.com/news/were-witches-burned-at-the-stake-during-the-salem-witch-trials.

Wilby, E. (2013). The visions of Isobel Gowdie: Magic, witchcraft and dark shamanism in seventeenth-century Scotland. Brighton: Sussex Academic Press.

McCarthy, Niall, and Felix Richter. “Infographic: The Death Toll Of Europe's Witch Trials.” Statista Infographics, 29 Oct. 2019, www.statista.com/chart/19801/people-tried-and-executed-in-witch-trials-in-europe/

Morgan, Lee. A Deed without a Name: Unearthing the Legacy of Traditional Witchcraft. Moon Books, 2013. 

#witchcraft #witchblr #isobel gowdie #bessie dunlop #a deed without a name #lee morgan #emma wilby #burning times #ahistorical narrative #ahistorical #history lesson #history #witch craze #witch hysteria #long post #history of witchcraft

[a-dorin]

it takes two to tango

pairing: professor!obi-wan kenobi x female reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: professor/student relationship, unprofessionalism, flirting, cursing, age gap, love triangle(maybe?), allusions to sex, mentions of oral

a/n: hellooooo! this is a little blurb or oneshot based off my ardor au, featuring professor!maul as well as other characters in college! for some context, this idea stemmed from this post linked here! i hope you guys enjoy! :))

read the first chapter of ardor here! 

“welcome to writing foundations. i am professor kenobi, but i go by an array of names. you can refer to me as obi-wan, obi, or ben. if you’d like, you can just keep the professor kenobi. it makes things a little easier and maintains the professionalism.”

letting out a quiet sigh, you fidgeted in your seat, chin resting in one hand, the other absentmindedly brushing over the keys of your laptop. your phone rested on your lap, vibrating every few minutes or so with a variety of notifications.

however, one notification in particular caught your attention, pulling your focus away from the professor.

it was a text from your boyfriend, flashing across the face of your apple watch.

i miss seeing your gorgeous face in class. :’( maybe i should’ve failed you so you were forced to retake the course. just kidding! or am i? ;)

upon reading the message the corner of your lips tugged into a shy grin, hands flying to your phone to respond.

“am i really that boring? or, is that text too important for you to focus?”

the inquiry was laced with scorn, your cheeks flushing as your eyes traveled upwards, focusing on the front of the classroom. professor kenobi arched a brow, his arms folded across his chest, a frown etched across his features.

“well?”

giggles erupted from several of the freshmen, the sound bouncing off the walls. reluctantly, you set your phone face down on the desk, “sorry.”

“i expect your undivided attention for the rest of the period,” he retorted, “i do not tolerate any disrespect directed towards my time in lecture. that does include texting, snapping, and sleeping in class. i will not hesitate to take your phone either.”

“i said i was sorry,” you gritted your teeth, your jaw clenching as the laughter continued, “you can proceed, professor kenobi.”

“i’m glad we’re both on the same page,” he rolled his eyes, plucking a marker off the tray, “now i’m going to write down my contacts on the whiteboard here. feel free to utilize my email at your leisure. i am aware of how some professors feel about giving out their numbers, but i have the utmost confidence that you all won’t abuse your texting privileges. well, maybe not all of you.”

fiddling with your laptop, you pulled up a new document for some notes. although you sure that professor kenobi wasn’t going to dive straight into lecture, who knew what his next move entailed.

already, you understood why maul was not fond of the professor. his aura was cold yet witty, and a bit pretentious. well, he was warm and kind, spitting out a few jokes here and there. that was until he caught you typing out a text. maybe that was just one of his pet peeves.

or maybe he was just an asshole, like maul said.

to your right, there were a couple of twi’leks scribbling away on the syllabus, copying what was written on the board. although you were a seat away, you could make out a few breathy giggles and hushed murmurs.

“maker he is so hot.”

at the comment, your eyes shifted towards the english professor. for the first day of class, he was donned in a tweed jacket, the color a darker, more chocolate brown, with beige patches on the elbows. the jacket was paired with a pair of khaki slacks, the glitter of a chain dangling from his pocket. it was more than likely a pocket watch.

he was average in stature, with a pale complexion. from your guess, he was a younger professor, somewhere in his late thirties, early forties. sure, although he was older, he had a handsome face. and the auburn beard only enhanced his features, complementing the icy blue hue of his eyes.

that was one of the first noticeable aspects of professor kenobi. his eyes were a brilliant color, bursting with emotion and shining with warmth as he welcomed you into the classroom.

yet, his first impression was nowhere near maul’s.

“i wish he would yell at me in class like he did with that girl.”

“be quiet or she’ll hear you!”

“now,” professor kenobi cleared his throat, smoothing out his coat, “i want to take the last twenty-five minutes to discuss your first assignment. don’t worry, it’ll only take me a few minutes to explain it then you’ll have the rest of the time to work. for your assignment, i want you to write about someone important in your life. i would like to hear what you find admirable about them, along with a few of their quirks. it can be anyone: a relative, friend, or significant other. the paper should be three paragraphs: an introduction of your chosen person, a body with an explanation of why you admire them, and then a conclusion. how you craft the conclusion is up to you.”

a hand shot up in the air, prompting a question. professor kenobi’s brow furrowed, “yes?”

the twi’lek to your right cleared her throat, “can it be a member of the faculty on campus?”

“it can be anyone of your choice. it can be a celebrity for all i care,” he chuckled, “the assignment is an assessment of your writing capabilities. it’s so that i can see where everyone is at.”

another student raised their hand, professor kenobi’s voice drowning in your ears. clicking on the title tab, you began to formulate a title for your paper, biting your lip as your mind buzzed.

who would you write your paper about? well, your mind was gravitating towards one individual. a crimson zabrak.

but would that jeopardize everything? would kenobi be able to read in between the lines? surely not. they were professors in vastly different departments. surely they rarely crossed paths.

“are you going to write about professor maul?” the twi’lek’s friend teased her, “if you do, you better hope that his girlfriend never finds it!”

“he has a girlfriend?” her companion snorted, “i was in his class this morning and he never mentioned any girlfriend.”

“there’s rumors going on all over campus. he has a girlfriend, but he won’t give anyone her name or even a picture. the only picture anyone knows about is the wallpaper on his macbook. i guess it’s just really private to him.”

the blush in your cheeks only deepened by their comments, your heart fluttering. was the entire campus really creating rumors about maul? and why did everyone care so much?

yet, the sound of his voice ringing across the class ceased your eavesdropping.

“now, i am sure this is the statement you all have been waiting for: class is dismissed. i will be sticking around for a few minutes if any of you have any questions.”

with no hesitations, students sprang to their feet, a flurry of chatter swirling all around you as they filed out of the classroom. plucking your laptop off the table, you placed it into the its case, shoving it in your book-bag. the twi’leks next to you flashed you a meek smile, shouldering past your seat.

“you know, you’re quite distracting.”

your lips pursed as your head swiveled towards the front of the class, “excuse me?”

“i’m not going to repeat myself,” professor kenobi shuffled some papers together, filing them into his satchel, “by the way, you need to watch your tone. i don’t like brats in my classoom.”

your breath hitched in your throat, “w-what? i’m not a brat.”

“yes you are,” kenobi fired back, “blatantly disrespecting your professor like that? i’m afraid that’s bratty behavior, love, and i don’t like it.”

“well i’m afraid it’s not going to happen again.”

you nearly couldn’t process what was happening. although he was putting up a tough exterior, the words stern, his tone said otherwise. it was light, laced with a tease. 

was he flirting with you?

“good,” he nodded, “because i have a tendency to punish bratty students.”

“i--” your throat tightened, “oh my--”

“by the way,” he crossed over to the table where you were situated, a smirk plastered across his features, “you have gorgeous eyes, (y/n). i never noticed until now, but your sweater complements them. now, you should head out. you have other classes, don’t you? i look forward to seeing you in lecture tomorrow. oh, and you better watch that pretty little mouth of yours.”

within seconds, he was out the door, leaving you stunned in your chair. 

the confrontation had your cheeks burning, your mouth dry. 

not only did you happen to capture the attention of one professor on the first day of class, but you managed to do it twice. 

yet, what professor kenobi didn’t know was that there was a certain zabrak in his office, awaiting your arrival in a matter of minutes. 

and what professor kenobi didn’t seem to grasp was one singular aspect about a relationship. 

it always takes two to tango. 

at the moment, he was the only one expressing interest. 

tomorrow though, who knew what he would do or say. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

tagged: @shannon-odonovan @maulieber @snips-n-skyguy0501 @calamity-queen @anakinswhore @justalittlecloud @pascalz @hounding-around @sasurah @laorme34 @littlevodika

#ardor: a professor maul au #professor!maul #professor!kenobi #ardor #star wars au #obi wan #obi wan kenobi