#it is a truth universally acknowledged that this show is going to drive me out of my mind

[ineffable-suffering]

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

#good omens season 2 #good omens #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #my own meta #the bloody vol-au-vents made me do it #aziraphale has balls #truly #jaune austen ball #it is a truth universally acknowledged that this show is going to drive me out of my mind #azi just wanted his silly little love confession #but then he had to surrender the angle #bummer

[star-anise]

Everyone's got a take, and I've got a take too, about the current Internet Villain: James Somerton, a gay Youtuber who just got exposed (in the back half of a 4-hour video) as massively plagiarizing the work of LGBTQ+ media critics, historians, and memoirists, and then exposed in another 2-hour video as just making up the wildest nonsense about the topics he demonstrably had access to accurate information on.

He achieved a six-figure income on his work by squeezing money out of his audience with claims...

That only he was creating content that preserved queer history and elevated the voices and experiences of the LGBTQ+ community (a lie)

He was in serious financial distress and would have to go out of business if people didn't give him tons of money (a lie)

That he was going to use some of that cash to make definitely good and not-at-all-plagiarized independent movies, a thing he was definitely skilled and experienced enough to do (a lie), and

That those plagiarism allegations were incorrect,, and frankly,,,, hurtful and homophobic. (a GIANT lie)

Like, here's a visualization of the script of one of his videos, "Society and Queer Horror". The highlighted bits were lifted nearly verbatim from the works of others—the 18 authors identified at the time the exposé was posted—and presented as Somerton's own work.

So here's what drives me absolutely up the wall about this:

If he had just ADMITTED that it was the work of other people, THAT WOULD STILL BE COOL. If he had just said, up front, "We are going on a survey of thoughts and insights people have had about this topic", that would still be a good video with a real audience!

Like yes, he studied business in university, he might not have gotten the kinds of research skills and knowledge someone like Kaz Rowe uses to not just report on the history and analysis of others, but evaluate their relative validity and trustworthiness.

But honestly, since watching my niblings (oldest is 13) watch Youtube, I think you honestly can't underestimate the number of viewers who are really hungry for someone saying, "I don't understand this topic! Let's explore it together!"

But NOOOOOOO, Somerton didn't want to be just some schmuck waxing enthusiastic about homoeroticism on film and acknowledging the smartness of other people. He wanted to be HIM, MR. SMARTYBOY, very sophisticated and alluring and thoughtful and deep. Definitely an intellectual heavyweight who just happened to spout off his own personal ideas and analysis that put him at the forefront of all the scholarship on the topic he's come across.

I hate being wrong. Hate being wrong. But blogging for most of my life has forced me to confront constant textual evidence that two or ten or twenty years ago, I said some dumb-ass shit. Honestly, it'd probably keep me up at night sometimes even if I didn't have a written record. I absolutely understand the desire to scan the field, find the coolest people around, and quickly clothe yourself in as perfect an imitation of them as you can manage.

But if you want to be an artist or a scholar who produces something lasting, you can't prioritize coolness over truth all the time. To develop your true, independent voice, you need to find a time and place where it is just you and just the work you're doing, and you have pick up your tools and say, I don't know if I'm doing this right, but this is what feels right to me.

There are a lot of things in life to which we can only truly contribute our presence and our perspectives. Things we can only witness or hold space for. We cannot go back and bleed the pain out of history, or erase the complexity of another person's life. Not honestly, at least.

But those are the times that need our presence, our perspectives, our witness, and our space. When we gather round and tell sad tales about the death of kings, honesty can be the only thing you give that's worth a damn in the large scale of things.

If this dude had owned up to the truth and honestly showed the work of trying to piece together a queer understanding of the world, trying to draw the threads of culture together until he found a place he fit inside them, it would have been so much more valuable to our culture as a whole.

He probably made more money this way, though. While it lasted.

#staranise original #james somerton #plagiarism #lgbt discourse

[kaythefloppa]

Lion Guard Rant: Janja's Redemption

One of the things that annoy me about The Lion Guard [as much as I enjoy the series] even after nearly half a decade of the show being over is how they handled Janja's redemption arc.

You may think I'm referring to how he was forgiven too easily and got no consequences [I'm not mainly talking punitive, but no further acknowledgment of what he's done or having to own up and apologize] - That's part of the reason why I didn't like it [I still like the character and JanjaxJasiri is a guilty pleasure of mine but yeah there's that little hiccup]:

The other reason is something that almost no one talks about and it drives me nuts, so I gonna have my time to shine; Remember back in The Rise of Scar when Ushari joined the hyenas and suggested communicating with Scar? And then he had this little exchange?

The show makes it very clear that Janja doesn't know the real reason behind Scar's death: That Scar dug his own grave trying to sell out the last hyenas who helped him [who, in case you're new to the TLK/TLG pipeline, are ancestors of Janja's clan, but don't expect that to ever have any relevance in the story --- a rant for another day]. This is important because they use this as an in-universe explanation as to why the hyenas [in the series] would want to help Scar.

Then there are moments like this in the series:

Sound familiar?

Scar makes the same promises as he does to his last army as a means of keeping them in line, regardless of whether or not he actually means it. He wouldn't do this if his audience [the hyenas] were smart enough to catch onto Scar's BS. And again, because Janja's hyenas don't know how badly Scar screwed their [presumed] parents over, they go along with it, continuing the vicious cycle.

Finally, there's the Hyena Resistance, in which Jasiri states she knows about the "legend of Scar" being a hyena.

Now setting aside the fact that there's so much missed potential with that line [like say, maybe Jasiri's clan were members of Shenzi's clan before a revolt, and thus they learned the value of the Circle of Life but again, a rant for another day] Jasiri knows about Scar's alliance with the hyenas, and being allied with SImba's family, who played an instrumental role in Scar's downfall, would give her knowledge on the real reason Scar died:

Combine that with Janja saving Jasiri and offering him a place on the good side and it's clear that the story connects itself together like a bow: Janja realizing the error of his ancestors, thanks to the effort of his fellow hyena and breaking the cycle by fighting for the Circle of Life, fitting the theme of the LK movies of "fighting the demons and evils of the past in order to carve the path for a better future" A very clever and reasonable bit of writing.... except it's not and all but one of the abovementioned stuff goes NOWHERE!!!

Was I the only one actually expecting this to go somewhere??: With how everything was set up and with how the show wanted to tie itself in with the movies, I thought the 3 abovementioned episodes were building up to a season finale where Janja learned the truth of Scar's betrayal of his predecessors and chooses to break the cycle of manipulation and treachery by turning against Scar, possibly finding some way to bring the original trio back into the franchise [one of the biggest golden missed opportunities for the show] and starting his redemption from there on out. I was completely dumbfounded at how all of this un-wraveled in actuality!

Janja's ancestry and Scar's betrayal of the first hyenas who served him have nothing to do with him switching sides, and they leave it pointlessly ambiguous as to whether or not Janja ever finds out that this is not the first time Scar was a backstabbing douche to hyenas.

Oh and they apparently offset this through this really awkward retcon where no one knows how Scar died and everyone thinks Simba killed him by yeeting him into the fire... even though Simba is implied to have told Kovu the real story behind Scar's death [because he SAW the motherfucker getting ripped to shreds by hyenas] and there is never an in-universe explanation given as to why everyone thinks Simba did it [and you can't even use the censors as an excuse, they could easily say "they ate him" - gluttony is the motivation of half the villains in this show, you could easily say the hyenas ate Scar and the kids at home wouldn't be traumatized].

This is also slightly off topic, but I almost find it to be somewhat of a double standard that Janja and the other Outlanders got off the hook, yet Ushari, who left the Pridelands because of the Lion Guard's mistreatment of him, is killed off with no one reacting to his death or his prior betrayal [again, both of which are partially the Lion Guard's fault].

#the lion guard #the lion king #the lion guard janja #the lion king scar #the lion guard scar #the lion king hyenas #the lion guard jasiri #2023 #disney jr. #disney #I know it's a children's show so I probably should lay off of it #But I watched the show from Day 1 since I was 9. Those clips had came out when I was 11-12. #And even I was able to piece together some stuff and be hyped for it only for Season 3 to completely let me down #I think there's an issue when even people who were within the show's target demographic during its airing can point out some writing issues

[wishingyouback]

Just For Tonight. KSM

synopsis: your friendship with seungmin has always been black or white. yes or no, on and off, nothing in between. you either speak, or you don't. but one night, he seems to surprise you.

pairing: seungmin x reader.

genre: tiny angst, reader and seungmin have a sweet friendship.

warning/s: none.

Author's Note: not proofread, any errors or typos will be fixed as soon as i can get back to it. happy readings <3

Seungmin and you have never gotten along.

For as long as you could remember ever since starting your freshman year of university, he had always been passive. Nonchalant in everything he did towards you, and quite frankly while he never directed any hatred nor harsh words towards you to your face, you could sense there wasn't much he liked about you.

You saw the way he would talk to Minho, how they bantered and how he would make jokes that made everyone laugh to the point of tears in their eyes. You knew that Felix, Jisung and Jeongin would occasionally meet up at his house to have movie nights. You noticed how despite how often he would poke fun with Chan and Changbin due to the age gap, he still held so much respect for the two boys, even more so any of the older boys that he knew when to step back if it got too far. He was their go-to person, their close friend — their best friend. But to you, Seungmin was just an acquaintance to say hello to. To acknowledge if you were to see each other outside of classes, but that was all.

"Hey," Jisung slings an arm over your shoulder, letting it lightly rest there, "You okay? You haven't been talking much tonight."

"Hey," Jisung slings an arm over your shoulder, letting it lightly rest there, "You okay? You haven't been talking much tonight."

"Hey," Jisung slings an arm over your shoulder, letting it lightly rest there, "You okay? You haven't been talking much tonight."

"Been better," You say honestly, because you knew even if you weren't telling the truth, Jisung would be able to read you like a book. "Just a little tired," You tell him and that isn't a lie, but it is a half truth.

The only reason you feel as tired as you are at only eight in the evening is because work had been getting to you. Workload was starting to pile up, and to add to that, the person you were seeing the last six months, called it quits an hour prior to the party Chan was hosting. Only Chan was aware of the person you were seeing, and he had been kind enough to not mention their name throughout the evening, but it still plagued your mind after having yourself become so attached and familiar with that person.

"Already?" Jisung glances down at his watch, then purses his lips, "Tell you what, let's both mingle for another half an hour and I'll drive you home, what do you say?"

"I thought you wanted to stay out late tonight?" You ask with a small smile on your face. There had been an ongoing inside joke between you and Jisung that every time he announces he'll stay out late or go out a little past midnight, it almost never happens.

Jisung books your nose with his finger, then shakes his head, "Changed my mind as I always do." He grins, "Want me to get you a drink?"

"I'm okay," you show him your bottle of soda, "Planning to stay sober tonight.

"Good idea," Jisung notes. The commotion inside starts to get a little louder when a new face walks in, "I think Minho just got here. Come say hi?"

"I will in a few," you squeeze Jisung's bicep to reassure him when he gives you a look. "I'll look for you."

"Good," Jisung pulls you in for one hug then leaves you be by the balcony as he jogs back inside. You don't doubt that he's gone off to annoy Minho and decide to look back up at the stars in the night sky.

Barely ten minutes pass by when you hear the sound of the sliding door squeak open. You've told Chan countless of times to have it cleaned but the older boy doesn't listen.

When you turn around to see who it is, you almost don't expect to see Seungmin standing by the door with two cups in his hands with his eyes wide open as if he had been caught shoplifting.

"Seungmin?"

"Hey," He clears his throat and awkwardly slides rhe door shut behind him. Because of how rusty it's starting to get, it takes him a while to close it shut but he manages. "Guess you didn't really expect me to be out here, huh?"

"To be out here?" You turn to look at him when he reaches your side, then look away, "Sure. To be out here next to me, talking to me? Not what I had in mind." You say.

From your peripheral you see him cringe, flinching almost from your worlds but don't say anything else. You pretend to not see it.

"Fair, that's fair," he mutters to himself while he sips at his drink. As if remembering what he was holding in his hands, he brings the other up to you, "I got this for you. Chan said you weren't planning on drinking tonight so it's just water."

You take it carefully, placing your other cup on the floor. "Thanks," You smile. "So, don't get me wrong I don't mind the company, but what made you come out here?"

Seungmin turns to you then looks over his shoulder at the crowd in the apartment.

"Would it be hard to believe I came out here to talk to you?"

Yes.

You chuckle at his words, "Honestly a little bit, yes."

He does the same, looking down at his cup then back out at the scenery.

"I heard about what happened with you and the person you were seeing," Pure disbelief makes it way into your eyes when your eyes lock with Seungmin's. He notices quick under the moonlight, "Chan mentioned in passing that things didn't work out, but it's only because I asked him."

You ponder.

"You asked him?" This causes confusion to fill your mind, "Why?"

"I never said I disliked you, Y/n," Seungmin starts off with a ghost of a smile.

"I've never said it out loud that you did," You fire back.

"But I know my actions towards you have made you feel like I do, but I don't. He clarifies with a serious tone, "The reason I asked was because Jeongin mentioned you weren't being yourself, so I came to ask if you were okay."

"It's shocking coming from me, but I just wanted to tell you that I don't hate you. I don't think any of us could," he glances over his shoulder and you do the same, noticing your seven closest friends yelling while laughing.

"Could," you tease.

"Not likely," He says to you, making the smile on your face grow. "And for what it's worth, whoever it was that decided to drop you like that without a proper explanation or reasoning, is missing out on how much of an amazing person you are."

The surprise must have been written all over your face because Seungmin waits for one minute, another until he finally bursts out laughing at how you stare at him. Despite the outburst of laughter, he almost sounds shy.

"Seungmin, you're full of surprises what on earth! That was so sweet," You tell him, joining in on the laughter when he doesn't stop.

"So I've been told," He calms down with a chuckle and carefully places a hand on your shoulder, waiting to check if you're okay with it then pats it lightly. "C'mon, let's dance."

"Dance?" You don't object, but you're even more baffled to find out that Seungmin loves to dance. Most nights out together he would be standing by the side or sitting at the table.

"Just for tonight, if it'll make you smile," He says.

"Okay, just tonight," You laugh and let Seungmin pull you away from the balcony, back into the living room where you're overwhelmingly showered with love and hugs from your closest friends.

#stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #seungmin imagine #seungmin fluff #seungmin imagines #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader

[baezdylan]

thoughts on cuddy's ending?

Oh. My. God. Nonnie!!!!! *takes a deep breath*

I HATED IT!!!!!!!! Cuddy as a character has always worked against the show's (*coughs* misogynistic) logic (not to mention House's logic), she's the driving force behind a vast majority of instances!!!!! The light, the heart of it all!!!! (no wonder the s8 filter is so dark djdjdjdjksk) After seven years of being a series regular, she deserved so much better. Hell, she deserved so much better while she was still a part of the show!!! Buuuuut, me being me, I had to figure out an in-universe explanation for *gestures vaguely* whatever that finale was and an explanation that satisfied me well enough (It's dark. I'm a fan of the imaginary friend!Wilson theory, ofc it's freaking dark), so here you go (read at your own risk):

Okay so, Cuddy's primary purpose at the beginning of the show is to be House's narrative foil, right? He rebels against authority -> she's authority personified. He's "the outlaw" and she's all about "the rules". But then there's s2 and by the end of it, they start to blend into one another for the first time (there are little tiny clues at the beginning of the season tho, like Cuddy's famous computer password, that imply that she might not be your classic uptight overachieving boss lady WHICH I ADORE ABOUT HER #cuddyfanclub4everrrr)... or better yet they (just as the audience) start noticing the similarities that have always been there, but weren't acknowledged. One giant parallel that was developed with time has to do with the way their bodies betrayed both of them (which will later happen to Wilson as well :/) and it's maddeningly interesting. But it also positions Cuddy as the heart of the show for the first time because House finds her ways of dealing with her situation admirable. Ridiculous! But admirable. (not to say that chronic pain equals infertility, but you get what I mean) Which is kind of like his whole perception of her, almost like she shouldn't even exist, Cuddy is that contrasted with the world from House's perspective. This is why he mocks her, he's trying to find the "real" truth within her, because she just can't be carrying her truth for everyone to see like she does (can be applied to Wilson too, tho Wilson is, if you ask me, more intertwined with House's identity than Cuddy is, I feel like House views Wilson as the best part of himself and Cuddy as someone whose existence symbolises something larger and brighter than who he is), she must somehow be as awful as everyone else is, horrible like he is. (what he doesn't get here is that he's the only person who gets to see that truth so easily and it's not a decision Cuddy has made consciously, it's a decision she didn't even know she was making) BUT!!!!! She proves him wrong (almost) every time. Because Cuddy genuinely is caring and kind and patient and loving. And when s7 comes to an end, Cuddy has done what House would have done if he was in her shoes. She broke up with him and that decision brought her closer to the part of House that House hates, closer to everyone else. What House does in the s7 finale is the ultimate act of self-hatred, you know? It's terrifyingly twisted and more insane than perhaps anything he's ever done. He's crashing into Cuddy's house, but his aim is to destroy himself. And scare Cuddy away, scare her so much that she never comes back. I think House needs that knowledge of a certain light or hope being out there, just a proof of its existence, even if it doesn't directly affect him at that point and I don't think he realizes he needs that kind of assurance, not before he loses Cuddy completely. Because that's when he starts to worry that he might have changed her, not necessarily for the worse, but made her a little more like the rest of the world (which is such a faulty assumption, but that's House for ya), a thought planted by Cameron back in s6.

#i have... complicated feelings about house's character downgrade in s7. sometimes i'm like... happy doesn't mean boring writers!!!! #and sometimes i'm like... negative development is a valid thing too #house m.d. #lisa cuddy #meta #restless wind inside a letter box💌 #lisa cuddy is my favourite superhero #that's my best friend lisa cuddy is my best friend

[myherowritings]

so in love

— “I’m so in love with them, I don’t know what to do.” Requested by @apollochjld​. 

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader word count: 1.8k genre: fluff, timeskip iwa in socal

a/n: wow writing this made me wanna be in love; someone make me fall in love with them pls,, jkjk...unless FHDJKFD kidding,, i hope u enjoy reading!! [p.s. i was listening to “i love you 3000 ii” while writing if you wanna match the vibes hehe] xx sof

「 hq masterlist 」

Iwaizumi had been in love approximately once before.

It was in high school when he dated a girl who made his heart race and face flush. She was quiet and dependable, cheerful and kind. Although it didn’t last after he left for university in the States, he enjoyed the relationship while it lasted. It was sweet, it was comfortable. It was what he needed at the time.

But what he felt then paled in comparison when he thought of you. If she made his heart race, you made it soar. 

Iwaizumi found himself thinking about you at the most random times of day—wondering what you were doing, wishing he could be doing those things with you… Whenever his phone buzzed, he would hope it was a message from you. And he’d be embarrassingly disappointed if it wasn’t. 

Since the two of you started dating, you had taken over most of his mind. Things he once thought of as ridiculously mundane now reminded him of you. (How could fuzzy blankets and Christmas lights even conjure up the image of one specific person? He wasn’t sure. But when he saw them, he smiled while thinking of you cuddling him during the colder seasons.)

He had never felt this strongly about someone and it almost scared him how deep his feelings ran.

A mixture of anxiousness and excitement filled his stomach at the realization and he decided to call his best friend for advice. Though Oikawa could be an ass, he was one of the two only people Iwaizumi felt comfortable enough to confide in about everything (the other person being you, but he couldn’t exactly go to you to ask for advice about you). 

“Oi, Shittykawa, you asleep already?”

There was a mocking sigh on the other side of the line. “Iwa-chan,” he chided, “haven’t you learned by now that’s not the proper way to greet someone?” 

He grunted.

“Fine then,” Oikawa pouted. “To answer your question, no, I’m not asleep yet. Did you need something?” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi was silent for a while, thinking of how to phrase his feelings. “I… Y/N…” 

“What about Y/N?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Let me guess— You finally acknowledged you’re madly in love with them and you need help coping with the fact you’ve realized your emotional range is now bigger than a baby carrot?” 

Iwaizumi blinked. How—? 

Apparently his pause was enough for Oikawa to figure out he was right. “Holy shit. I actually got it?” He cheered and Iwaizumi could picture him dancing around the room smugly. “That’s great, Iwa-chan!”

He chuckled at his friend’s enthusiasm, Oikawa’s reaction surprisingly helping soothe his nerves. Maybe it wasn’t abnormal to have these feelings? But then again, Oikawa didn’t know just how intense these feelings were. 

“Is it weird?” Iwaizumi found himself asking. “It feels weird. It’s like… I’m so in love with them, I don’t know what to do.” 

That was the first time he had ever told himself he was in love with you out loud. Hearing it with his own two ears made his stomach clench and his palms get clammy. When he pictured his future in five years, he couldn’t imagine one where you weren’t there. He wanted to see your smile, hear your laugh, be there for you when you cried. He just wanted you. And he hoped you wanted him too.

“Did you just realize that?”

“Yeah. Just earlier.”

“Hmm. And have you told them yet?” 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Then why are you still on call with me?!” Oikawa chided. “You should be driving to Y/N and getting ready to tell them how much you love them like a gushy fool in love.” 

Iwaizumi winced at Oikawa’s blunt wording. The thought was weird. The thought was uncomfortable. He’d never been a guy who was particularly in touch with his emotions. He could rarely admit his feelings to himself— And it was even more uncommon to share those feelings with someone else. That required vulnerability and trust. 

It was terrifying. 

But for you, it was worth it. 

“Go get your beauty sleep now, Assykawa,” he said, grabbing his keys and getting ready to hang up. He shrugged on a sweater and headed out the door, heart almost bursting from nerves.

“Not that I need it,” Oikawa huffed haughtily, and Iwaizumi could just picture him flipping his hair to the side. “But I will. You go tell Y/N how you feel now.”

“I will.” He started his car. “And Oikawa…?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.” 

Oikawa laughed dismissively. “Don’t mention it, Iwa-chan. It’s my duty to help ugly, hopeless losers who somehow managed to make someone beautiful and kind-hearted love them back.”

“Fuck you too, Trashykawa.” 

And with that, Iwaizumi ended the call with an amused eye roll. He gripped his steering wheel in determination as he let out a deep sigh, driving over to your apartment. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve given you a text before showing up unannounced, but in this moment, his thoughts were so occupied, being rational didn’t end up crossing his mind. It wasn’t uncommon for you to surprise him with an impromptu visit and he would always welcome it, but randomly dropping by with no plan had never been his style. 

He hoped it wouldn’t bother you.

Iwaizumi was so lost in his worries, he almost didn’t notice he was already parked in front of your complex and walking towards your door in minutes’ time. Slowly, he found his knuckles rapping on your door before his brain could rethink his decision and drive back home.

The front door cracked open and he heard a cute little surprised noise escape your lips.

“Hajime?” you said curiously, though your eyes lit up as you invited him in. “Did I miss a text from you? I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, face suddenly heating up in embarrassment. A heads up would have been the courteous thing to do. What if you were busy? Or what if you didn’t want to see him at the moment? The second thought made his stomach drop.

“Not that I mind though!” you quickly amended, smoothing out the furrow between his brows with your thumb and placing a soft kiss on the lips. Iwaizumi smiled into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug as his worries melted away. “My day always gets better when I see you.”

His fingers ran down your spine and planted his lips on the top of your head before pulling away. Smiling, you led him to the couch where you leaned into his touch. 

“Did you have something you needed? Or did you just want to hang?” 

“I just wanted to see you.”

You smiled, a shy look suddenly befalling your face as you drew circles atop Iwaizumi’s thigh. “Yeah? I was actually just thinking of you when you showed up. I thought I might’ve been daydreaming, but I guess it was just a wish come true.”

He let out a short chuckle at your sentimental words, the blush on his cheeks betraying his true pleasure at hearing them. “I can never think of anything to wish for when you’re around. It feels like I already have everything I could want when I’m with you.” 

The repetitive, gentle movements of your finger on his thigh halted as your eyes widened. “Really?” 

His first instinct was to take back what he said and distance himself. A nagging part of him told him that he said too much and shouldn’t have been so forward. But Iwaizumi swallowed his insecurities and the discomfort he felt from being vulnerable and nodded. 

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff. “Really.”

Taking note of the serious tone he spoke in, you straightened up on the sofa, angling your body so you could see his expression directly. 

“I know we’ve only been together for a few months, but I just...had to tell you that I’m in love with you. And it feels so strange to say,” he admitted, cheeks blazing red. He couldn’t even manage to bring his gaze directly to your eyes or he knew he’d grow too embarrassed to continue on without stumbling. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and, at this point, I don’t know if I’d ever feel this way about anyone else. And this in no way means you have to say you feel the same already. I just thought I should let you know how much you mean to me.”

When he finally met your eyes, he saw they were filled with unshed tears, making your irises look like they were shining. You looked up at him with such an endearing look on you, as if Iwaizumi promised he hung up all the stars in the galaxy by hand just for you. 

“I love you so much— No, I’m very much in love with you too, Hajime,” you responded, sounding overjoyed as you threw your arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck while he planted a kiss on your temple. “I’m so relieved you said something now because if you hadn’t, I might’ve just blurted it out one random day.”

He snorted, teasing. “Like I did just now, you mean?”

“Well, yes, but probably not as eloquently,” you laughed. “You know, I never understood movies or shows that talked about true love or finding someone you’d actually want to spend your life with. That concept seemed so foreign to me, or like it was something so far out of reach… Until I met you.”

Spend your life with? His heart soared out of his chest at your words. He felt like he could touch the sky if he tried. 

“And it sounds so cheesy to say that!” you whined, burying your head in your hands. Iwaizumi chuckled at how cute you were as you peered through your fingers. “But though it’s cheesy, it really is the truth.” 

He hummed. “Sometimes cheesy is good.”

“Mhm.” You nodded in agreement. “I guess loving someone enough to want to be this cheesy with them is something special in itself. Because I could never imagine having moments like this with someone other than you.” 

“I couldn’t imagine this—being here, feeling this way—with anyone else either.” Iwaizumi laced his fingers through yours, stroking your thumb so softly, it was light enough to leave a ticklish tingle. “And I wouldn’t want to.” 

“Then I guess we have no choice but to make more of these cheesy memories together.” 

Iwaizumi leaned in to place his lips on yours, the both of you smiling into the chaste kiss. Even the smallest touches could light a spark within him that he never wanted to die out. 

Making memories didn’t seem so hard. Especially when they were with you. “I think we can manage that just fine.” 

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyu!! #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

[wee-wee-witch]

Inadequacy

A/N: sigh… can’t believe this started with smut part and then I wrote start of the story. I have to thank @kinsurou and @aonesteddybear who gave me the idea.

Pairing: Sukuna x reader with a side of cute boyfie Yuuji

Tags: noncon/dubcon, abo universe, breeding, choking, degradation, dumbification, hair pulling, biting

WC: 1.5k

You knew Yuuji since both of you were freshman year in college. He was so sweet the first time you met him, immediately making your young little heart melt.

Yuuji always thought you were way out of his league, mostly because you were omega, the cutest prettiest omega he ever laid his eyes on. He couldn't understand how there was no alpha walking you to and from classes. No one looked over you? Maybe you had a long distance relationship? You never gave away an alpha's scent either. Yuuji could never sniff out anything and he was the type of person that was very prideful in his sharp senses. He had a way sharper nose than most alphas did. This beta was pretty exceptional in everything that he tried, especially if it was competing at sports. That's how he earned a sports scholarship and met you in this exact university.

Could it be that you really didn't date anyone?

Time on campus was terrible if you were alone without Yuuji. Often, an older alpha would corner you somewhere without much traffic. Where students and teachers would rarely pass by. Forcefully scenting themselves on you. Beta with exceptional physical capabilities like Yuuji, whose senses rivaled the strongest of alphas could always find you and get you out of trouble.

It happened a couple more times before you finally confessed. Overjoyed that you choose him. Him! Over every alpha on the campus you really picked Yuuji!

The butterflies in his stomach dispersed soon after, when you started showing interest in claiming. Yuuji could feel your body sending him signals that it's ripe for claiming. Playing the game of chase, Yuuji managed to avoid your advances most of the time. You weren't the only one who was getting tired of his strange behavior though.

"If you don't claim her soon she'll run to another alpha, brat."

One extremely important detail that Yuuji always left out of the conversation was that he was a little bit special.

Yuuji was sharing a body with Sukuna, an alpha who was growing tired of Yuuji's antics.

Sukuna will never tell Yuuji what happened on his own, but they still share a body. His memories start to invade Yuuji’s dreams. Scenes where he can see your sweaty body under Sukuna's grasp. Your innocent face scrunching up in pleasure as Sukuna raked his nails over your scalp, running them through your hair until he reached your neck wrapping his long fingers around it. The soft protests you’d whine out, begging him to explain what's going on, only so Sukuna would slam into you even harder. Causing your voice to break and your whines to morph into full blown out crying.

He took his sweet time, placing you on his lap and telling you every little detail of your innocent little boyfriend's condition. The ambiance of short sniffles accompanying his gravelly voice. Sukuna was simply overjoyed by Yuuji's gentle nature that allowed him to corrupt you.

Thanks to the stupid brat, he was the first one to ruin your body.

It was so sweet of you to deny Sukuna the answer he desperately wanted, swaying the mattress with his thrusts. Pushing your cunt open, wider and wider, the burn of his cock trashing your weaker body.

˝Who treats you better pet?˝

He’d growl against your ear. You tried to hold your own the best you could. Resisting the pleasure shocking though your back as Sukuna’s voice hummed against your ear. With your teeth clenched you’d ignore every deep thrust, every growl, praying that Sukuna will be done soon.

Praying that you won’t disappoint your sweet Yuuji.

So virginal, so gullible. Do you really think Sukuna can’t stop himself from cumming? Snickering at your weak tries at resisting him, Sukuna places his other arm against your sensitive bud.

¨You’ll answer me now brat.˝

Sukuna bites your ear, pulling you back so you’d land in his lap. Screaming in shock from the new angle his dick is coursing at, you try to wiggle yourself out of his grasp, only to make the sensations even worse. His fingers pressing against your nub that’s soaked in slick juices, rubbing it to heighten your pleasure.

His teeth still clamped against your ear don’t stop you from shaking your head in a desperate ¨No!˝ making his tugs more painful with every desperate shake.

He couldn’t ask you to act better than this if he tried, how dumb you act in your stupid little protests, only causing more pain. Maybe you like it after all? Sukuna grins, mouth busy with your ear. Soon you’ll surrender to him.

Your head falls flat on Sukuna’s chest as he pops off his mouth from your abused ear. Your weak glare does nothing to appease him, it only makes his canines peek up more as he grins down at you. Stubborn brats like you were the best for breaking. Now with his both hands free, Sukuna squeezes you against him. Knocking the air out of you. His cock has fully barged into your womb, with his knot close to being completely engulfed by your squelching cunt.

His tip brushes against the wall of your womb, making your eyes roll back. Sukuna knows he had you as he feels your body relaxing in his grip. Your resolve is crumbling. Seeing as you had no more strength to fight him off, Sukuna removed one of his arms to grip your hair, making you look up at him.

˝Who treats you better?˝

This time his tone was way more stern, way more deep. He won’t give you any room to disobey him.

Your body feels weak, legs and hands wobbly. Sukuna is toying with you, not using an ounce of his real strength and it makes you feel so defeated. Only power you have is denying him your acknowledgement. Denying him the truth; that he really does treat you better than Yuuji. Of course he does! Sukuna is an alpha and no matter how much love you hold for Yuuji, how good he is to you, how gentle he is with you. Yuuji is still a beta.

You know that. Sukuna knows that, even Yuuji knows that, but you don’t want to crumble in front of Sukuna.

Pulling at your scalp even harsher as a warning, Sukuna is rushing you to answer.

Sniffling weakly you let out a weak mumble.

˝What was that brat?!˝ He snarls at your face.

˝Suku..na...˝ your lips wobble again, voice a bit louder this time.

˝Good!˝

Your back is thrown on the mattress as Sukuna leans over you, pushing your legs back so that he can slam into you even deeper. It’s finally time to kont you fully.

Taking a deep breath Sukuna roughly drives the rest of his knot into you. As he breathes in, your breath is forced out. A high pitched shrill diffuses in your small bedroom. Your needs are completely satiated as your cunt envelops his knot fully.

Sukuna senses your immediate change in attitude as a pair of legs draws him closer to your body. Your arms follow suit, wrapping around Sukuna’s neck where you nuzzle your sensitive nose and breathe in his scent to help you calm down from the sudden rush that Sukuna granted to you.

You two stay connected like that for a couple of more minutes, enjoying the pleasurable jolts. Sukuna is still filling you up with his seed, your jolts coaxing more seed out of his cock.

Cooing at the feeling of being full, happy and satiated with a real alpha’s knot you start to giggle into his neck. Sukuna knows that you’re still at your high, he is at it too, giggling together with you.

˝That feels nice.˝ you admit to Sukuna.

˝Oh? Does it?˝ He asks you with that sickeningly sweet voice that he often uses when taunting Yuuji.

You nod, hiding under his chin.

Wrapping an arm around your back, Sukuna places you beside him, trailing his palm gently across your naked body. The only bearable thing while residing in this body was that this beta idiot was lucky enough to score an omega like you.

Speaking of Yuuji, let’s see what kind of answer you’ll give him now, after you’ve experienced what it feels like to be knotted by a real alpha.

˝So… Who do you like more now after everything is done, pet?˝

You look up at him, the weight of things that occurred finally settling in your chest. Mouth that has been spread in a wide grin just a moment ago shrinks into a thin line.

˝He’ll… He’ll understand.˝ you conclude.

Before returning the body to Yuuji Sukuna let out a loud guffaw. Entertained by what this relationship between his vessel and omega has come to. He’s really looking forward to the conversation that soon follows after Yuuji wakes up with you in his arms, disturbed from a memory that was never his.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #itadori yuuji x reader #reader insert #sukuna smut #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna smut #sukuna x you #ryoumen sukuna x you #sukuna imagine #sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna imagines #ryoumen sukuna imagine #tw choking #tw dumbification #tw hair pulling #tw degradation

[loveatfirstwriteblog]

A Complete Analysis of Harry Potter

Like a lot of kids, we probably grew up on Harry potter. We were obsessed and rightly so. The universe created in the world of Harry Potter was, and is, a hugely successful one because of the fact it gave kids a world where magic exists! It seemed to be a great world to live in and it made even better with the fact that it included elements of empowerment, Whether it be showing girls can be just as successful if not more in various pursuits(Hermione), or the fact that even if you have a history of bad events, you can have a good heart(Hagrid), Harry Potter teaches us a lot.

JKR has written a mind-blowing plot in a world of magic, wizards, witches, wands, potions, friendship, love. Our inner-five-year olds--and actually most of our young adult selves too--jumps around excitedly at the beautifully penned words that creates an exit out of this world and into one where magic does exist. 

As you get older, though, you begin to think of Harry Potter in a more critical fashion. The thought of “oh my god, it’s magic” no longer completely overrides my mind, but more of “but what are the laws regarding this? Can people just do this whenever they want? Are there no ethics?” 

No matter how much we’re going to expose the flaws and plot holes in HP now, we’ll always love the books--we grew up on them! But some things just niggle you as you get older, and that’s what we’re going to be focusing on in this post.

Something I adore about the HP books is that everyone, including the “good guys”, has flaws. Harry has a “save the world alone, do first, think later” complex, a driving force that makes him go save Sirius, Ron is very, very insecure to a point where he ditches Harry twice, probably when Harry needed him the most, Hermione is a judgemental, narrow-minded nag (her thoughts on Luna, divination, Trelawney, basically anything that doesn’t fit her black and white world), Molly Weasley is misogynistic and blatantly favourites her children—probably being one of the main factors behind Ron’s insecurities, Arthur is condescending towards Muggles and makes several comments you cringe at while reading the books as a young adult/adult, Sirius, Snape, and Lupin still haven’t let go of their childhood grudges and hatred, etc etc etc. 

These flaws are what make these characters so three-dimensional, so layered, so human. But the problem was, most of these flaws are never intentionally acknowledged. And honestly, that could have been such a good character arc, because the main characters are mostly students. No student is the same through their teenage years—they change, they evolve, they get over their flaws, they try to better themselves. I would have loved to see Ron becoming his own person, Hermione opening her mind up a little, etc. 

Neville is not one of my favourites, but I love his growth and development, from someone who was scared of his potions professor to a man who faced down Lord Voldemort. Ginny Weasley could have had character development, from the trauma she went through in second year, but that was never written in.  She went through this terrifying ordeal when she was only twelve years old, and jump to a year or two later and she’s absolutely fine, with no transition from her trauma whatsoever.

Some of JKR’s characters are brilliantly written and fleshed out, but some of her others lack the structure and complexity that usually comes with being vital to the plot—Ginny Weasley for one. Her internalised misogyny also plays a huge part in the way her female characters are written. We see this again in the case of how she wrote the character of Ginny. 

Ginny Weasley is not a favourite of ours (if you don’t know that by now). She feels a lot like a convenient male daydream—when she waits for Harry to notice her by dating other guys, gets annoyed by Hermione “not knowing quidditch”, etc etc—and fits the “not like other girls” archetype too much, almost like she was made for it (hint hint). She’s portrayed to be strong-willed, spunky, and independent, and I love the idea, but I really don’t see it. To me, she’s a very shallow character, the least fleshed out one. 

Just like James Potter wasn’t necessarily redeemed just because JKR said he was, and Ginny isn’t interesting just because JKR writes that she is. 

Hermione also fits the archetype, but she’s JKR’s self-insert, so we really can’t say much about that. 

To make things worse, Ginny and Hermione are pitted against each other in a very subtle way. Ginny is the sporty, pretty, flirty girl who’s never single from book 4. Hermione is the not-conventionally-attractive, nerdy girl who’s had a few dates here and there but never a relationship. They’re very different characters (the only thing they have in common is the archetype) but they’re against each other in the defence of Harry. 

Another place where JKR’s misogyny shows up is the way other girls are written. Lavender Brown is shown as vapid and immature, just because she likes clothes and boys and didn’t know how to handle her first relationship. Cho Chang is perceived as shallow because she’s emotional. Pansy Parkinson is seen to be throwing herself at Draco Malfoy. The Weasleys hated Fleur because she was beautiful and sexy and French, and that was ever really resolved in the end (Molly accepted her, but we never got Ginny’s and Hermione’s opinions again). You see where we’re getting at? The typical “girly girls” are portrayed as insipid, shallow, emotional, and boring, while girls like Hermione and Ginny are seen to be fun and multilayered. 

The problems with Harry Potter don’t just stop with non-fleshed out characters. There are plot devices that go unacknowledged, issues like blood purity—which is the basis of Voldemort’s tyranny—are never really resolved, huge Chekhov’s guns that aren’t fired. 

A common misconception, which if cleared up could probably expose a load of problems in wizarding society by itself, is that the wizarding world is racist. It’s not racist. Muggles and Muggleborns are not a different race, they’re a different class, at least according to pureblood wizards. Mudblood is a classist insult (a direct reference to nobility blueblood and aristocracy).

Another factor that wasn’t talked about but made the HP world so complex and realistic is the inherent classism in every single pureblooded wizard, including the Weasleys.

 The “Light” wizards all operate on the notion “at least I don’t kill or torture Muggles”. The Weasleys refuse to talk about Molly’s squib cousin who’s an accountant, the Longbottoms were so desperate for Neville to not be a squib they nearly killed him trying to force magic out of him, Ron makes fun of Filch for being a squib, thinks house-elves are beneath him, and confounds his driving instructor in his mid-thirties, the ministry workers kept obliviating that muggle at the quidditch World Cup, etc. 

This could have been a metaphor for how small prejudices and microaggressions (kind of the wizarding equivalent of white privilege) enable discrimination and murder, if JKR had actually acknowledged it. 

The parallel to Nazi Germany is very twisted and definitely shouldn’t be taken too far, but the Nazi ideology grew on the basis of everyday antisemitism, “that’s not that bad” little things. Voldemort’s circle and army grew because the wizard superiority complex festered and blew up in some people, egged on by a deeply classist society. 

Ultimately, Harry Potter has very, very shoddy worldbuilding, the kind of worldbuilding that’s obsessed with answering the “what” of the wizarding world, rather than the “how” or the “why”, which is strange, considering that fantasy or dystopian-era novels’ driving plots and conflicts are usually answering the questions the worldbuilding raises--The Hunger Games and The Shadowhunter Chronicles are two of the best examples of brilliantly written YA fantasy and dystopian novels. 

In HP, however, the main plot just avoids the questions the worldbuilding brings up like the bubonic plague. 

Voldemort’s agenda is built on prejudice towards Muggles and Muggleborns, but the plot just validates the negative perception of them—at the end of the day, being a wizard is what’s special. The Statute of Secrecy is the foundation of the main concept—blood supremacists believe wizards shouldn’t be hidden away—but only vague, barely-there answers are given to why it exists (a Chekhov’s gun that was never fired). 

There are love potions that function like date rape drugs (even Harry was given one by a girl who wanted him to ask her out), potions that force people to tell the truth, potions that literally let you disguise yourself as another person, but the ethics are never talked about, and the laws are so lax that three twelve-year-olds broke them and were never caught. 

But at the same time, the worldbuilding is so authentic, because it transforms the wizarding world into straight-up fridge horror. The everyday horrors are just accepted and rolled with. A corrupt government, constant obliviation of Muggles, slavery that isn’t even talked about. These things aren’t obvious to us as readers, or to the wizards as characters, because they match up to the real world, which is filled with things that are horrifying if you dig deeper. The multiple, normalised forms of abuse, police brutality, the violence in prisons that nothing is done about, the glaringly obvious cultural problems we have with consent, etc. 

The abusive authoritative figures in HP, like Rufus Scrimgeour, Cornelius Fudge, Dumbledore, Umbridge, etc, are so authentic because real-life politicians and people in high places of power behave that way, and their abuse is excused. 

The wizarding world is just like the real world. Corrupt, prejudiced, messed up, but if you’re privileged, or at least have certain privileges, you’re probably not going to notice. The ultimate problem is that the plot doesn’t acknowledge a lot of fridge horror things are messed up either, which is why it miserably fails. 

#harry potter #shoddy worldbuilding #flaws #plotholes #ron weasley #hermione granger #draco malfoy #jk rowling #tom riddle #lord voldemort #dumbledore #rufus scrimgeour #cornelius fudge #dolores umbridge #ginny weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #pansy parkinson #fleur delacour #luna lovegood #lavendar brown #cho chang #hagrid #sirius black #severus snape #james potter #remus lupin #amortentia #veritaserum #polyjuice potion

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

drive you crazy

summary: there’s absolutely no way you and Matt have feelings for each other, right?

warnings: mentions of past drinking 

word count: 5.1k

note from the writer: my love for sam and rasmus really jumped out in this one, huh. let me know what you think!

Matthew Tkachuk was a constant presence in your life no matter how much you wished he wasn’t. He was loud, cocky, and it absolutely did not help that he knew just exactly how attractive he was.

Not that you found him attractive, of course.

When your roommate and closest friend, Jen, started dating Matt’s teammate Sam Bennett, you were introduced to a whole roster of boys. They were all nice enough, and you quickly developed close friendships with a few. Except, well—

“Matt’s here, and I need you to entertain him.”

“No, absolutely not.” You put your foot down, not caring how much you sounded like a child. Jen pouted, slipping fully into your room and shutting the door. It did little to block out the sound of two raucous hockey players laughing at something in your living room.

“This is the third time this week Matt has crashed our date night and I really need you to just get him out of my hair.” Jen pleaded, sitting on the edge of your bed. You were under the covers, the next episode of your favorite show queued up on your laptop. The last thing you needed was to have Matthew ruin your evening.

“Can’t you just tell him to leave?” You argued, pointing out the obvious while ignoring the blatant fact that Matthew was stubborn and would never be convinced to do something if he truly didn’t want to.

“He won’t listen to us, you need to tell him.” You couldn’t hide the roll of your eyes at her words.

“And what makes you think he’ll listen to me?” If you had known what Jen’s response would be before you asked the question, you would have kept your mouth shut. Instead, you watched in confusion as a grin grew across her face, the one that you knew meant nothing but trouble.

“Because he’s like, in love with you.”

And that was truly something funny, because it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You laughed loudly, knowing there was absolutely no way that he liked you, let alone loved. Your dynamic with the curly-haired forward was defined by constant bickering and backhanded comments—not loving glances and hidden feelings.

“I’m serious! He’ll do anything you say.” Jen added, sensing your disbelief. This was far from the first time she had alluded to Matt’s so-called feelings for you, but she never had been so direct.

“Yeah, right.” You snorted. Jen didn’t say anything at first, and instead shot you a challenging look and stood from the edge of your bed. Her smug look never once waverd as she opened your bedroom door, and without looking away from you called out to the boys in your living room.

“Matt! Can you go with Y/N to the grocery store?” You rolled your eyes at her question. You didn’t need to go to the grocery store, it was just a rouse so she and Sam could have some alone time. Why they couldn’t just go to his place, you weren’t sure, but you were torn out of your thoughts when Matt’s response came soon after.

“Yeah, does she need a babysitter?” His voice was light and it was clear that he was teasing, but you found yourself pouting. Jen grinned, gesturing wordlessly to you as if she was declaring victory in the situation. You hadn’t considered it a competition, but if it was, you figured she was far from winning.

“That doesn’t prove anything.” You huffed, shutting your laptop. As much as you didn’t want to go, you knew from the moment Jen asked you that you would. She was your best friend, and if spending some time with Matthew meant she got some alone time with her boyfriend she already struggled to see as a result of hectic schedules, you would put up with the menace.

“Mhm.” Jen hummed, clearly not believing a word you said. Before either of you could say anything else, your door was pushed the rest of the way open and Matt was standing in your doorway, his typical smug grin on his face.

“It’s nine o’clock and you’re already in pajamas?” He teased upon spotting the sleepshorts and oversized t-shirt you had put on. Making your way to the closet, you briefly acknowledged Jen shooting you one last look before slipping out.

“Not all of us need to stay out every night.” You shot back, pulling out a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt to wear as a defense against the Calgary cold. Tossing the clothes on your bed, you turned to see Matt still standing in your doorway. “Can you leave so I can get changed?”

“Are you sure you want me to leave?” Cocky smirk on full display, it took everything in you not to throw something at him.

“Matthew.” You warned with a glare leveled at him. He raised his hands as if he was claiming innocence, and you rolled your eyes at his response.

“Kidding.” He chuckled lowly, before finally leaving the room. You sighed once the door was shut, running your hands down your face to try and rid yourself of the image of Matt grinning handsomely.

It’s Matthew, you reminded yourself. The same Matthew that took joy in critiquing every guy you mentioned you were interested in with a harshness you had only seen in his eyes on the ice. Not that you paid much attention to him while he was on the ice. The point was, you should not be letting Jen’s words get to you.

Matt didn’t like you, he liked annoying you.

Hurrying to get changed, you met Matt waiting for you in the hallway outside your bedroom. He had been mindlessly scrolling through his phone, but upon hearing your door open and shut, he shoved the device into his pocket and looked to you with a grin so wide he rivalled the Cheshire Cat.

“Ready?” You questioned, hoping to avoid finding out what exactly was making him so smug and keep things civil. You weren’t sure exactly how long you were supposed to entertain Matt, but you’d rather spend as little time with him bickering as possible.

“Nice sweatshirt.” He commented, and you had to look down and see which one you grabbed. It was an old Flames one that didn’t even technically belong to you. You weren’t sure why Matt was so smug about seeing you supporting his team, since you’d been to your fair share of games.

“Thanks, Rasmus gave it to me when I spent the night at his a few weeks ago after we all went drinking.” You explained absentmindedly. While you spoke, you began heading towards the front door, so you missed the way Matt’s expression fell. You did see Jen’s smug grin, and watched Sam shoot Matt a look you didn’t have time to decipher. “See you guys later.” You waved with one hand while the other reached up to grab your car keys. Before you could get them off the hook, though, Matt’s hand shot forward and snatched them up.

“I’m driving.” He grinned. A dozen and one protests came to mind, but you chose to simply roll your eyes and head out the door. You heard Jen shout something along the lines of ‘use protection’ before she was shut out by the door, and you opted to ignore her teasing. You glanced at Matt out of the corner of your eye, and to your surprise you noticed a faint blush on his cheeks.

You scrolled through your phone as you waited for the elevator, trying to ignore the fact that your perfect evening plans of a night in were ruined by Matt. Well, Matt and Jen. The elevator arrived and only once you were both inside and the doors were shut, did Matt clear his throat to get your attention.

“So what do you need at the store?” He sounded genuinely curious, and you couldn’t help but snort at his question. The sound drew a smile out of him, and you briefly wondered why your heart fluttered as it did. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t need anything, Jen just wanted me to get you out of the apartment so you’ll stop third-wheeling her and Sam.” You explained with a lightness to your voice that usually wasn’t present when you were with Matt. He let out a loud laugh just as the elevator doors opened, and you followed him out.

“Well, I’m not going to hang out at a grocery store if you don’t need anything.” He explained as he led the way out of your building and towards where your car was always parked. You watched in curiosity as he moved to the passenger side of your car, and your brows tugged together in confusion as Matt opened your door for you.

“What are you doing?” You asked skeptically. You were certain there was going to be some joke in there somewhere, but you couldn’t find it and he didn’t seem like sharing it.

“Being a gentlemen?” He replied with just as much confusion as you. You tried to hide the way your lips quirked up in a grin, but he noticed and repeated the action himself.

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that.” You quipped as you climbed into the passenger seat. Matt didn’t take your comment too seriously, and instead you heard him chuckle as he gently shut your door. In the time it took for him to go around the car and get in on the driver’s side, you thought about why he was being so nice.

Maybe Jen did have a point.

No, he was Matt and you were you. You weren’t exactly friends, so you definitely weren’t anything more. But the way he was acting was definitely something more. Your heart started to race and you wanted to kick yourself, but you couldn’t exactly do anything about it as the driver’s side door opened and Matt slipped in.

“So, where are we going then?” You asked, hoping the mundane question would help calm your sudden and completely new nerves. Except, the universe was apparently not on your side, because in response Matt shot you a wide grin and you felt a circus of butterflies flutter inside you that had never been there before.

“It’s a surprise.” He told you, backing out of your parking spot. You busied yourself with plugging the aux cord into your phone and picking music, giving yourself time to compose yourself.

“I don’t like surprises, Matthew.” You replied, hoping that now since the silence in the car was filled by music, it wouldn’t be so awkward.

“You can call me Matt, you know.” He told you, casting a glance towards you with an unreadable expression in his eye before focusing back on the road. Your brows tugged together in confusion at his words, and he must have seen the look on your face because he elaborated before you had the chance to voice anything. “You always call me Matthew, but you can call me Matt.”

“Okay, well, Matt,” you emphazied, drawing a laugh out of him. “I don’t like surprises.”

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s someplace we’ve both been together.” And while you still were confused about where he was taking you, it certainly narrowed the list down. There wasn’t a lot of places you had been with Matt, considering that you and him were little more than people who bickered often and happened to share close mutual friends. There wasn’t even a title for the type of relationship you and Matt had.

“You’re not taking me to a bar, are you? It’s a Tuesday, Matt.” You groaned, jumping to conclusions about where he was taking you. If you were hanging out with him outside your apartment, it usually meant everyone was going out drinking. And since your apartment was currently off limits, you assumed he was taking you to the usual bar he and the boys always picked.

“It’s not a bar.” He chuckled brightly at your response. You couldn’t help it, you found your self smiling softly at him as he focused on the road. Calgary’s night lights lit up his face and you distantly wondered if that was the reason he had been driving you crazy all night—a different type of crazy than he usually made you. You knew you were in danger when the corners of his lips turned up in the smug way they typically did, but it was too late. “You’re staring.”

“Am not.” You defended childishly. At this point, you were just trying to save face. He chuckled at this, turning his attention fully to you. It was then that you realized that at some point, Matt had pulled into a parking spot and you hadn’t even noticed.

“You’ve been staring.” He teased, smug look on his face that you couldn’t argue because no matter how much it pained you to admit, he was right. Instead, you opted to roll your eyes and look at where Matt had taken you.

“Frank and Mary’s?” You questioned, unrestrained glee in your voice as your head whipped from the diner to Matt. Frank and Mary’s was a hole in the wall diner that you frequented while either drunk or hungover, and one time you had dragged not only Sam and Jen there one night, but Matt and a litany of others. It was your favorite, and you remember telling the others that countless times.

“I figured we could get milkshakes and fries and not tell my trainer about it.” You laughed at this, a real and genuine laugh and Matt’s grin turned into a real and genuine smile. “Good idea, right?”

“You were bound to have one eventually.” You teased, though there was no trace of malice in your words. Matt smiled at you for a moment longer, his gaze softening and you felt his studying his face. You coudn’t get mad at him for it, you had been caught staring at him only moments earlier, but it was more than that. You didn’t want to get mad at him for it.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but you. A frown etched by confusion found home on your features as you tried to understand his change in behavior. Nonetheless, you got out of your car after him, smiling politely as he held the diner door open for you.

You picked a booth to sit in, and Matt didn’t complain as he sat opposite you. The time before the waitress arrived was spent silently shedding coats and avoiding the other’s eye. You smiled politely as the waitress set two menus on the table and got her notepad out to write down orders.

“What can I get you guys?” She asked sweetly, looking between you and Matt. You opened your mouth to order, but he beat you to it.

“Two chocolate milkshakes and an order of fries, please.” He said, handing her the menus back. You nodded, affirming that was your order before she slipped away to start making them. You raised a brow at Matt, a wordless question of why he knew your order. “You may have mentioned they’re your favorite once or twice the night you dragged us here.”

“They’re really good.” You defended meekly, having a hard time forming a thought that wasn’t why would he remember that and other things about him that weren’t useful at the moment. Matt chuckled, and for a moment it was quiet again. You smiled softly at him, and he readily returned it, but something flashed in his eyes as his gaze fell to the sweatshirt you were currently wrapped up in.

“So, you and Rasmus, huh?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but you heard an edge in his tone. Your brows scrunched together in confusion as you tried to understand the meaning of his words, and when it clicked, your eyes widened.

“There is no me and Rasmus. We’re just friends.” You assured him, unsure of why you felt a need to make it clear to him that you weren’t seeing one of his teammates, or anyone, for that matter. He was Matthew, the guy that drove you crazy and annoyed you with his constant teasing comments. The guy that was always at your apartment, third wheeling Jen and Sam until they either kicked him out or he found his way to your room to bother you.

The guy you wouldn’t mind kissing every once in while.

“You sure about that?” Matt questioned with a ghost of his usual smug grin, dragging you out of your earth-shattering thoughts. You wanted to kiss Matthew. You wanted to kiss Matthew. You. Matthew. You and Matthew.

Well, that was a problem.

“Yes, I’m sure, you dick.” You teased, hoping your words didn’t reflect that you were freaking out. That you weren’t going crazy about the idea that maybe all your so-called annoyance at him was just some ploy to cover up your feelings for him, a ploy so clever that not even you knew about it. “Guys don’t like me like that.”

“Well, that’s not true.” Matt interrupted your mental panic, because you absolutely had not meant to voice that to him. It was a subtle confession about how he didn’t like you like that, Rasmus and any other guy being the furthest thing from your mind.

“What?” You questioned rapidly, hoping that maybe he was making a not-quite confession like you had. That maybe he liked you and he wasn’t just trying to be nice.

“Hm?” He hummed, as if he hadn’t said anything and suddenly all your hopes came crashing down around you. Both of you were saved from having to come up with something to say, because just then the waitress returned.

“So, is this date night?” She made small talk as she set the first milkshake in front of you. You weren’t sure who was flushed more, you or Matt, but either way you were rushing to shake your head while he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nope.” Matt’s smile was tight as his gaze met yours in a moment that felt charged with something you couldn’t place. “We’re just friends.”

You had two weeks to figure out why the statement made your stomach twist the way it did. Two weeks before you saw Matt again.

“Matt’s coming tonight.”

“Okay.” You told Jen, not looking up from your phone as you scrolled through it on the couch. You didn’t have to look up to see the confused look she gave you, and when you saw her out of the corner of your eye stand before you with her hands on her hips, you sighed and looked up.

“Okay? What do you mean okay? You’re never okay when Matt’s here.” She questioned, and you couldn’t help the grin that made it’s way onto your face at the way she was so perplexed by you being nice to Matt.

“Aren’t you the one that wants me to be friends with him?” You teased, locking your phone and dropping the device into your lap. An expesperated look crossed Jen’s face, and you felt as if you were being scolded by a parent.

“No, I want you to be more than friends with him. And I need that to happen tonight because I have a bet with Sam and—” She started explaining, and you sat up as she piqued your curiosity with her last few words.

“What? You have a bet on Matt and I?” You asked, waving hand around to cut off her rambling.

“Yes, because it’s so obvious that you two belong together!” She didn’t even pretend to be ashamed by her actions, and you couldn’t find it in you to be mad at her. After all, you did have a similar bet going on when she and Sam first started seeing eachother—but that was different. Sam clearly liked her, while Matt was just another of your friends.

“You’re ridiculous.” You told her flatly, leaning back against the couch once more. She scoffed at this, reminding you once more that somehow you ended up in a position to be scolded by her like you were a child.

“And you’re blushing.”

“Am not!” If you weren’t before, you definitely were then, and you wanted nothing more than to have the ground open up and swallow you whole. So what if the idea, however unlikely, of Matt liking you made you flushed. You were only human, after all.

“Mhm, keep denying it.” She hummed, clearly amused by the whole situation. You shook your head, grabbing your phone and standing from the couch. You began your retreat to your room, Jen hot on your heels.

“I don’t have a thing for Matt, he drives me crazy.” You told her, a little white lie. Because he did drive you crazy, but no longer in the ‘he’s so annoying, I want him leave’ way, but in a ‘he’s so annoying, I want him’ way.

“That’s because you—” She called after you, grin evident in her tone despite not even looking at her.

“Don’t finish that.” You warned, sitting on the edge of your bed. Your suspicions had been correct, Jen was grin smugly ear to ear and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her.

“I’m just saying!” She defended herself, as if she was innocent in the situation. You shot her a pointed look, but decided to not comment further.

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to be in my room, I’m not up for hanging out tonight.” You sighed. It wasn’t a lie, you weren’t in the mood to be around everyone after a tiresome day at work and an exhausting two weeks dealing with your unrequited feelings for Matt. Jen pouted, but knew when to back off. She sent you a pitiful smile and told you to have fun, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. With one last look, she slipped out of your room and shut your door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, you changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, a considerable upgrade from the uncomfortable work clothes you had previously been wearing. Crawling into bed, you opened your laptop and put on your favorite show. It didn’t take long for your mind to wander, especially when you heard the boys and Jen laughing at something in the living room. From what you could tell, it was more than just Matt and Sam, recognizing the voices of Johnny, Sean, and Rasmus before a knock at your bedroom door startled you.

“Come in.” You called, only half surprised to see Matt stick his head in the door. He grinned at you, and you waited for the comment about you being antisocial and curled up in bed, but it never came.

“Why aren’t you out with everyone?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious. He stepped into the room fully, and you feared he could hear your heart pounding as he shut the door behind him.

“I don’t feel like it tonight.” You explained with a shrug. “Why aren’t you?”

“I wanted to see you.” He explained as if it was that simple. As if your mind currently wasn’t racing a thousand miles a minute to try and decipher what that meant. He sat on the edge of your bed, body turned towards you. You noticed a faint blush on his cheeks, and you briefly wondered if you looked just as flustered. “I’m kinda waiting for you to tell me to leave.”

“Would you even listen if I told you that?” You grinned, watching with a warm feeling in your chest as his smile widened and he chuckled.

“Is that an invitation to stay?” He hummed before kicking off his shoes and standing. And, well, you didn’t exactly say no as he pulled back the edge of your comforter and climbed in beside you. Before you really knew it, you were curled into Matt’s chest with his arm around you as he sat up against your headboard, laptop playing a show you truly couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to anymore.

Your head was tucked under his chin with a hand resting on his chest. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, but also the rapid beating of his heart. You tried not to think that maybe you were making him nervous, because that would just lead to you getting your hopes up. Instead, you focused on the way his fingers were trailing absentmindedly up and down your arm, the other resting innocently on the crook of your knee that he had hitched across his lap shortly after laying down.

It was another two episodes before the silence was broken between you and Matt for something more than him making a comment about the characters or how he was completely lost on the plot. Two of the characters in the show were confessing their love for each other, and as soon as the scene started, you felt Matt’s already rapidly beating heart increase in pace. Deciding you throw caution to the wind, you called his name softly. He only hummed in response, eyes glued to the screen, so you paused the show and called his name again. This time, you earned his full attention, brows drawn together in confusion in such an adorable way you felt your confidence slipping away.

Now or never, you thought.

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You asked, and then immediately wanted to kick yourself. It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask, but it was better than nothing, you supposed. You weren’t expecting Matt you laugh, though, and hold you just a little bit tighter to avoid having to answer. Your hand settled back over his heart to prove to yourself it really was beating abnormally fast, and when he wouldn’t meet your gaze, you called his name again. “Matty.”

And if you thought that his heart was beating quickly before, after the simple nickname fell past your lips, you thought he’d explode.

“It’s ‘cause of you.” He mumbled, your own heart picking up in pace. He was suddenly being shy, and you were certain you had never seen Matthew Tkachuk shy, at all, ever.

“What?” You asked for clarification, not wanting to get ahead of yourself. All signs were pointing towards what you hoped for, but you needed to be certain.

“You drive me crazy.” He confessed, his blue eyes finally meeting yours head on. You propped yourself up on your elbow so your face was level with him, and even though he was right beside you with an arm around you, you felt miles away as you tried to process what he said.

“Matthew…” You said softly after a moment, knowing that you needed to say something. He must have interpreted your lack of response as something bad, because the hopeful look on his face fell and he began backtracking.

“I know that I annoy you and that you don’t like me, but I had to tell you. I can go—” He started, and when he grabbed the covers as if to climb out of your bed you snapped to reality, grabbing his hand and effectively halting his movements.

“Matthew.” You stated, a lot more firmer than you had moments before. A grin grew on your face, and you saw his shoulders visibly relax. “Shut up for a moment, please?” A smile toyed with the corners of his lips and he nodded, but otherwise he complied. “You do annoy me.”

A puzzled look crossed his face—that clearly wasn’t what he thought you’d say.

“You’re annoying and yet, somehow, that’s endearing. We bicker and tease each other but at the end of the day I don’t actually hate you. And I don’t think I could ever actually hate you.” Your confession was quiet, and as you finished you used your free hand to cup his jaw. He leaned into your touch slightly, the simple act nearly melting you entirely. “You drive me crazy, too, Matthew.”

It was almost as if he couldn’t stop himself then, surging forward to connect your lips in a kiss you hadn’t realized you had been waiting months for. He was much more gentler than you thought he would be, but as the kiss went on he had you pressed into the mattress. When he finally pulled away so you both could catch your breath, he was hovering over you, bracing himself with his arms so not to lay his full weight on you.

“A good crazy, I hope.” Matt teased, grin wide and happy before he ducked down for another kiss. You giggled against his lips, revelling in the way you felt ten times lighter after confessing your feelings. Knowing that how you felt was reciprocated washed away any worries you had, and the smile you wore was truly genuine.

“A very good crazy.” You affirmed, looking at him with adoration. You brushed your hand through his curls that you wished he would grow out and take better care of, your hand settling on the back of his neck to gently guide him down for another kiss. You were so lost in Matthew that you didn’t hear your door open.

“I called it!” Jen announced loudly, causing Matt to roll off of you in shock. You glared at your roommate while the rest of the boys groaned, muttering complaints about how Jen won the bet or how Matt should have just waited a few days.

“Jen!” You threatened while flustered. Matt dropped his head back against your pillows, clearly annoyed at his teammates for interrupting while you were just embarrassed. It wasn’t a big deal, you knew, but it wasn’t exactly enjoyable having your roommate walk in on you making out with someone. Especially the someone she had been trying to get you to go out with for what seemed like forever.

“We’re leaving. You two have fun.” Sam winked at Matt, and when Matt shot you a look, you frowned and swatted at his shoulder. He laughed at your response, letting you know he had been just teasing.

“Use protection!” Jen shouted her favorite line as Sam pulled her out of the room and Johnny shut the door with a smug grin you weren’t used to seeing from him. You groaned as soon as your friends left, flopping back against your pillows and earning a chuckle from Matt.

“I change my mind.” You huffed, grabbing Matt’s hand and toying with his fingers to distract yourself from your friend’s interruption. He shot you a curious look, and your heart raced at the thought that he was finally yours. “They drive me crazy.”

“As long as I’m the only one that gets to kiss you.” He mumbled, having already leant down to connect your lips together. You hummed against him, fingers curling into his hair as he pulled back slightly to admire you.

“That, you are.”

#matthew tkachuk #Matthew tkachuk imagine #Matthew tkachuk x reader #Matthew tkachuk fic #calgary flames #Calgary flames imagine #Calgary flames x reader #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey x reader #nhl fic #nhl x reader

[romanticchemacademic]

Dear future health professionals and stem professors,

We need a revolution of thought. Only through a renaissance of pure and genuine passion towards medicine and other sciences will we have competent doctors, nurses, other healthcare workers, and teachers. We live in a world where people pursue noble professions for the sake of social and economic advancement. However, we lack individuals who love the process of learning and their career.

I recollect quite a marvelous excerpt written by one of the world’s greatest scientific minds, Albert Einstein. In his book, The World As I see It he writes:

ACADEMIC CHAIRS ARE MANY, but wise and noble teachers are few; lecture rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who genuinely thirst for truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.

We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what nature gives as one finds it. But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred years ago with that prevailing today. They had faith in the amelioration of human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our classics had lived and fought. 

  I believe that one of the faults lies within education institutions. Educators rely on testing, textbooks, and detached memorized lectures. Lectures lack passion and another essential factor: the real practice. The theory is important but the practice is necessary to understand the theory. But without passion, nobody will learn to love the material being taught. Ibn Sina is known for being one of the greatest physicians and teachers of Islamic medicine. I am not completely sure whether what I am about to mention is true. But I read that when he lectured theory to the medical students at the Madrassa (University) he would show them how it worked. Besides medical history and theory. He also taught physics, astronomy, philosophy, and mathematics. However, he is also famed for being an excellent teacher duly because he would take his students to test out the theories and practice what they have been taught. If they were learning medical theory, they were taken to the hospital to observe patients and their cases. If they were learning astronomy, they would all gather in the evening to look up at the heavens to look at the constellations. Lastly, his passion for his vocation was the final touch. Educators without the drive cannot teach. Learning is about understanding oneself, others, and the world. Learning evolves our minds and our spirits by making us get in harmony with the universe. I believe this ties in with Aristotle’s famous saying, “The unexamined life is not worth living”. Though my interpretation may be a wee bit off, I translate it as thus; we can gather all textbook knowledge as possible but if we do not put into practice the knowledge learned, what is the point? I yearn and I pine to experience all that I have learned. I want to see why the theory makes sense in reality. I want to conduct experiments. So much potential is being wasted. Biology is the study of life. However, when I took the course, it was so cold to a point that it did not even feel like I was studying the human body but something alien instead. There is also such a rush to memorize material within a couple of weeks because of exams that the material ceases to be interesting and becomes more of an arduous chore instead. Our sense of time-shifted completely after the industrial revolution. Perhaps this is a reason why we feel the need to rush through everything and not take our time to study profoundly. 

We need another Scientific Revolution, curious minds thirsting for the acquisition of knowledge and unanswered questions. However, I believe that the leading force behind this is a necessity. I would like to mention an example to illustrate what I mean from a novel I read a while ago called, The Physician by Noah Gordon. A boy from Medieval Europe lost his mother from an unknown disease leaving him orphaned. He then grew up with the necessity to learn what the disease was and how to prevent other similar deaths, so that others do not suffer what he has suffered. He then worked with Barbers (people who performed medical procedures in Medieval Europe). But the medical knowledge these professionals had was not enough to answer his question. Thus, he traveled to Persia where there was a quite renowned and exclusive medical school. He did not have the economic means or previous schooling to attend but he impressed the headmaster with his passion and knowledge. Thus, the headmaster admitted him into the Madrassa. The European boy then invested all his time doing research, dissections and treating patients until he finally found out what ailment caused his mother’s death, side sickness (appendicitis). He figured out a way to treat this illness, removal of the appendix. From his initial necessity which was the driving force for him to pursue a medical career, he became a famous physician and felt that all his suffering and odyssey were worthwhile. The sense of necessity leads to the feeling of passion. It was his love for his mother that made him follow such a journey full of obstacles. I am beginning to apply that to my own life. I want to figure out my necessity which will be the driving force to power through university and medical school without ever feeling burnt out. I want to feel fulfilled. I believe this is what all pre-medical students and teachers should think about. What is your necessity? We are going to be dealing with human life, someone’s mother, father, friend, sister, uncle, lover, husband, or child...It is not something to be taken lightly. I know so many doctors lacking empathy because they went into the medical field with just the intention of being acknowledged as “Doctors” and getting rich. But I feel that even the most apathetic healthcare workers can become great empathetic professionals the moment they realize that something was triggered deep inside them, perhaps a loved one having an unknown disease. This would lead the apathetic doctor to do mass amounts of research to try to find a cure. This feeling becomes a necessity. A necessity to not lose the loved one. A necessity to save lives. Thus, finding passion, purpose, and becoming a better person. Though each person is different, we all share a selfish feeling. Most of the time we do not truly care about other peoples’ suffering until it happens to us. Once we are affected by something, we drive all our time and attention to find a solution or a way to deal with a problem. We become consumed and completely obsessed by it. I regard this as passion. I do not think passion subsides, it lingers on inside us. It is a fire that never burns out. I remember my high school teacher writing in my yearbook:

Remember a few things, BE PATIENT. You are eager and you will accomplish so much. But take your time, you are always rushing. Life is a journey, it is not about the destination. Be picky. You love everything with enthusiasm but enthusiasm can burn out. Find a fire inside yourself that burns for a long time.

-V

We cannot rush our personal legend. I believe it comes to us. It is Maktub (it’s written). But we also have to do something. Imagine you are on a stranded island but you have a machete, a fishing rod, coconuts, a cave for shelter, wood for a fire, an ocean full of fish. Everything required for survival is there, but you simply have to cut open the coconut with the machete, go fishing for food, fire to cook, and warmth. The fish isn’t going to swim right into your hands and the fire will not light itself. We must use our resources and do our bit. The Universe has a lot going on, we must help out a bit.

If you ever think about quitting, try to remember what made you start your odyssey in the first place. I do not know what my necessity is yet but that is okay. I believe it will come to me eventually. So for now, I simply love to romanticize academia. I like to imagine the: earthy tones of the universities archways, cobblestone paths, laboratories with clean Erlenmeyer flasks, beakers, pristine white lab coats, bunsen burner flames changing colors as different salts are added, Bromothymol Blue pen stains, elegant calculations inside a worn leather-bound notebook, formulas scrawled over the blackboard, forgotten cold Irish breakfast tea on the desk, academics discussing theories, applause from a successful experiment, gray rainy days spent inside the lab, Whitman, Hemingway, et Sir Arthur Conon Doyle being read during break, intellectual conversations with professors, chemistry reports being written, molecular models built, volumes of ancient words, fire slowly burning in the stone fireplace, trying to understand, looking at the constellations on a clear night in the astronomy tower, reciting poetry, Tchaikovsky playing whilst completing a long lab report on Lê Chatelier’s theory of Equilibrium, curious minds, sleepless evenings in the library, beautiful anatomical illustrations...Just imagining these things motivate and inspire me to continue my path. Though it may seem superficial, it awakens something inside me. I yearn and I pine to become a Chemistry Romantic. 

I want to conclude this letter by saying that pupils and educators keep ideals alive and can change them accordingly as well. We have the power to become excellent professionals or simply exist and do nothing for the human race. But if you plan on becoming a physician or educator, you must find the trigger which brings your passion to life, your necessity. Once you find that, you are guaranteed greatness and fulfillment. However, do not rush. Perfection takes time. A couple of obstacles should not hinder you from persevering. Many will tell you to give up but do not. That is the Universe testing you. Do your best until you master the topic. Once you know better, you are then able to do better. 

Regards,

Confessions from a Chemistry Academic

#stem dark academia #dark academia #academia #stem #philosophy #academic universitylife #unilife #chemistry #medicine

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

jacqueline wilson’s ‘love lessons’

tw: abuse, pedophilia, characters making Bad Decisions, long unnecessary spiel about my childhood like I’m running a recipe blog

It’s funny how loads of the authors who helped shaped me into the vaguely humanoid being I am today have names beginning with the letter ‘J’; Judy Blume, Jeff Kinney, John Green, J.K. Rowling (yikes, I know) … and Jacqueline Wilson.

I’ve never owned a Jacqueline Wilson book of my own; they were always borrowed from a friend, or from a friend of a friend, or from a friend of a cousin- you get the gist. Her books, for me, come with an entire aesthetic: something reminiscent of yard sales, and reading under the covers with a flashlight, and being lulled into a false sense of security by the deceptively innocent Nick Sharratt illustration on the cover until someone’s best friend gets mowed over.

So I knew what I was getting into when I picked up Love Lessons. I knew this was going to be Fucked Up; and boy, was I right.

(Here’s the part where I warn you about spoilers.)

From an abusive dad to creepy child predator teachers to slut-shaming and victim blaming, this book has it all.

The main character is Prudence ‘Prue’ King, who is homeschooled at the beginning of the book, along with her sister, Grace. Their parents remain rooted in the early twentieth century, and are very strict about- well, everything. No TV, no computers, not a single mobile phone in the house; their clothing worse than the orphans’ from Annie; and their father remains distinctly distrustful of modern institutions like the school and the hospital; and so on, and so forth.

Daddy King suffers a stroke, and has to be taken to the hospital. Meanwhile, Mrs. King (a floppy, spineless woman who lives in fear and awe of her, frankly horrid, husband) sends the girls to school, behind the then invalid Mr. King’s back. Cue Prue and Grace being the freakshows of the school, with their strange clothing and overbearing mother.

Grace manages to make friends, but Prue remains alone. The kids are dicks, the teachers are dicks… well, all of them but one. And that’s the art teacher, Mr. Raxberry (I just couldn’t get over that name; it seems like something you’d name a mythical plant from Pixie Hollow or some shit. I’m assuming it isn’t an actual name, since the spelling & grammar check on my computer doesn’t seem to recognize it), or Rax, as he’s called.

Oh, yeah; Prudence’s favorite subject in school is art, and she’s a whiz at it. This is relevant, because reasons.

And here’s where stuff gets murky. Prue develops a crush on Rax- which is perfectly normal. I’m definitely no stranger to it; I’ve had crushes on my teachers, my mum admitted she used to think one of her professors was cute. And yeah, as I grew older, I grew out of those crushes and now have a markedly more refined taste in men (unless he’s 5’ 7’’, born in ’97 and named Bang Chan, I don’t want him); and my mum married my dad, so I’m assuming she did, too. Admittedly, now that my dad teaches at a university, it’s icky to think that there might be students who have crushes on him- but I digress.

My point is, loads of us have liked our teachers. But I doubt the majority of us have acted on it.

And Prue actively showing her interest in Rax isn’t the worst part. That’s a spot reserved for Rax reciprocating her feelings.

Guess Ezra Fitz and Ms. Grundy (yes, I watched Riverdale; please don’t cancel me) have a new addition to the Creep Club.

The age of consent in the UK is 16, if I’m not mistaken. Prue is 14. She’s just barely become a teenager, and she’s being preyed upon.

Because that is what Rax is. He’s a predator; he preys upon this vulnerable girl who’s never been in a relationship before- hell, she’s never even had friends- her father’s abusive, so she obviously doesn’t have the best experience when it comes to men- she’s unpopular at school, with the students and staff alike- and he lures her in. I don’t care how bloody nice he is to Sarah, or what a good dad he is (well, he’s really not, seeing as he cheated on the mother of his children WITH A BLOODY FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD CHILD)- the guy’s a fucking pedophile.

I was staunchly stuck at a yellow light with him; like, sure, maybe Prue thinks he’s flirting with her- maybe she’s looking at this all wrong, she doesn’t know how relationships work- see, he drew a picture of Sarah, too, in his secret notebook- Prue’s just reading into this too much- up until he says he loves her.

Dude. Humbert fucking Humbert. She’s fourteen, for Christ’s sake, and you’re married. You have two children. She’s a child. She’s probably closer to your son’s age than she is to yours.

(This is the part where I bury my head in my pillow. And scream. Extensively, and with passion.)

The book does make some genuinely good commentary on slut-shaming and victim blaming and abusive parenting. And on one hand, I can see why so many people find issue with the romanticization of the when I kissed the teacher trope- but I can defend it, too.

The book is in Prue’s perspective. She thinks she’s in love with Rax, so obviously, she’s not going to throw in some valuable moral at the end- because she’s too young and inexperienced to think otherwise. And sadly, there are loads of instances of child abuse that go unreported because the victims just don’t know better.

What I have issue with is how the school dealt with it, ultimately. Prudence, a child, has to deal with the consequences of the actions of a literal child predator. Sure, Rax ‘clears his name’ by cooking up some bullshit story about how it was only a crush and he didn’t encourage it, but you’d think other adults would know better and, oh, I dunno- dig deeper into it, instead of blaming it on a child?

“She says you told Mr. Raxberry you loved him and he held you in his arms and fondled you.”

Which Prudence denies, because, again, she doesn’t know better. She then goes on to say that they did nothing wrong. To which the adult speaking to her, in this case, the principal, Miss Wilmott, goes on to say:

“I’m not sure that’s entirely true… I feel that there are some aspects of your friendship that could be considered inappropriate.”

FYI, lady, he kissed her- multiple times (not that kissing her once makes him any more redeemable), and told her he loved her, and admitted to fantasizing about running away with her and leaving his family behind. Fun fact: do you know Prudence is underage?

You’d think that Miss Wilmott would maybe give this whole fiasco a favorable ending, but it turns out she listens to school gossip;

“I haven’t been at all happy with your attitude. You don’t seem to understand how to behave in school. I’ve heard tales of unsuitable underwear and then a silly romance with one of the boys in your class. I feel that in the space of a few short weeks you’ve made rather a bad name for yourself… I don’t know whether you intend to be deliberately insolent but you certainly come across as an unpleasantly opinionated and arrogant girl… I can’t help feeling that you’ll be much better off elsewhere. I shall try hard to engineer a suitable transfer to another school.”

And then she comes out with this gem:

“If you won’t leave, then I shall have to ensure that Mr. Raxberry finds another position.”

“No, you can’t do that! He’s a brilliant teacher.”

“You should have thought of that before you started acting in this ridiculous and precocious manner. If I were another kind of headteacher, I would have Mr. Raxberry instantly suspended. There could even be a court case. He would not only lose his job, he could find himself in very serious trouble. Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Girlboss, gaslight and gatekeep. The fucking trifecta.

Also, by ‘another kind of headteacher’, does she mean the kind of headteacher WHO DOESN’T LET CHILD PREDATORS ROAM FREELY WITHIN THEIR HALLS?

This bitch is out here blaming a child, a literal child, for the crimes of an adult man.

The only time Prue seems aware of the fact that Mr. Raxberry is actually a very shit person is her immediate thoughts that follow after she tells Miss Wilmott she’ll take the fall;

I so wanted to save darling Rax- and yet why hadn’t he wanted to save me? Had he told Miss Wilmott it was all my fault, that I’d got a ridiculous crush on him, that I’d made ludicrous advances to him? … I wanted to tell this horrible, patronizing woman how hungrily he’d kissed me, but I couldn’t do it. I loved him. I had to help him.

NO, SWEETHEART; YOU MOST DEFINITELY DO NOT.

And maybe I’m going overboard with all these excerpts, but here’s what Rax has to tell Prue, after school, following her expulsion:

“I let her think the worst of you, the best of me, just to save my skin. I said it was ridiculous talking about a love affair between us. I said you simply had a crush on me, and that I was just trying to be kind… You were brave enough to stand up to me and force me to acknowledge the truth… I love you… That’s why I had to take a risk and see you this one last time. I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care… Every night when I close my eyes, I’ll think of us together in this car and how badly I wanted to drive off with you. I’ll imagine us walking hand in hand at the water’s edge… I wish I wasn’t such a coward.”

(I burrow into the pillow further. I’m trying to suffocate myself.)

And that’s where I think Wilson went wrong. Sure, Prudence getting expelled for something that was completely out of her hands is unfair, and horrible, but it’s real. That shit can happen.

What’s bad is showing Rax in a positive light after all that. If only Wilson had written Rax to not be the Romeo he thinks he is. Make him ignore Prudence, throw her under the bus in front of her face, instead of this star-crossed lovers bullshit it’s made out to be. Show your younger audience that Rax is not a good man. I’ve got a little over two weeks left for my twentieth; I can see why this is unacceptable. But I was a little younger than Prue when I watched Pretty Little Liars, and my only gripe with Aria dating Ezra was that Noel Kahn was so much cuter.

It shows when you scroll down the Goodreads reviews; you’ve got adults giving it one or two stars, and teenagers giving it four or five, with their biggest complaints being, “but Toby was cuter!!!”

Other non-pedophilia related complaints regarding the book include: Prudence being unlikable- which I didn’t really notice, considering she reacted to some people way better than I would’ve, even at 19 (which probably says a lot more about me than it does about Prue, but oh well). Still, Prudence obviously isn’t the most prudent of people- and again, she’s fourteen. Look me in eye and tell me you weren’t an arsehole at that age (unless you’re fourteen now, in which case, I assure you that you’ll look back on yourself someday and go ‘wtf was I thinking’). Bringing up Toby’s dyslexia in an argument was low, though.

There were people who thought the Kings’ almost-Amish lifestyle was exaggerated and unrealistic, but I assure you, it may very well be real. There are 8 billion people on the world- it’s fair to assume that several of them are complete weirdos.

Grace was a sweet character, and I adored her with every fiber of my being. As were her friends Iggy and Figgy. Honestly, I would’ve loved a book about Iggy, Figgy and Piggy’s (mis)adventures too.

#love lessons #jacqueline wilson #teacher #teacher crush #teacher x student #anti ezria #ezria #pretty little liars #aria montgomery #ezra fitz #when i kissed the teacher #book review #books

[nachosncheeze]

Music of Blindspot - end of season 2!

Music of Blindspot 2x22 - Lepers Repel

To begin, as always, I have to acknowledge that everything contained below is the ramblings of a regular, unaffiliated dork. The works of genius I'll be rambling about is the work of the brilliant Blake Neely, Sherri Chung, and their amazing team. I just... really love what they've done. Buy the Season 1 OST if you haven't already. All that crunchy, driving percussion is worth your time.

This week is less a music post and more a love letter. I wish that the company would release more music from this series officially, and this last episode of season two is in my top 2 reasons why (the other is 3x22. If we wanna talk top 3? 5x11.) Neely, Chung, and the rest of the team were scoring, recording, and mixing 5 episodes per week - one for each of 5 different shows (they also did Riverdale and the DC universe). I always find the fact that they created such a distinct set of sounds and themes for Blindspot amazing in itself. But the season finales are, absolutely, some of the best. In every single one, they managed to come up with a ton of music that doesn't directly reference anything specific, but just sounds like Blindspot... and they managed to make heartwrenching use of one or two existing themes at key moments. In 1x23, it was the main theme on strings and a short revival of the opening track from 1x01 in the safehouse, and before that the Oscar and Jane theme - released on the OST as See You on the Other Side - in the barn.

Here in the season two finale, there are two brilliant reappearances of important themes. (please be aware that there is a lil 3x01 spoiler at the end of this post, if you're finding this as a new fan and haven't watched it yet)

~~~~~

The first is, of course, Torn Apart. But not just any section or mix of Torn Apart. Very specifically, they have gifted us with a new recording of the Remi and Roman theme.

Here's the original version, with the video if you want some visual context for it. This theme is the moment she met her brother. The first time someone showed her real kindness after the black site. The first human touch she's had that didn't hurt, since the moment Kurt turned on her. And it's also every other time she remembers them as children, clutching onto one another. That's it. That's the whole piece.

Here in 2x22, she had to make a choice for Roman: do what Kurt did to her, knowing exactly where he would go; or give him what he's begging for... the thing the nukes didn't.

But she remembers what they were, and she just. can't. Do It. (this is the 2x22 version)

Excuse me while I go sob a moment.

💔

The other is the Jeller theme, which is included in the stunning wonderful perfect two years later montage in Nepal. The music for that scene might honestly be my second favorite in the entire series. To my very, very great disappointment it has never, to my knowledge, been put out there in any capacity. So I made my own! (note that I don't know the first effing thing about sound editing - I basically just stripped the dialogue and pressed the volume to make it roughly level, since it fades in and out dramatically around the dialogue.... Yes the wind and crickets are still there, and the glow worm tattoo battery zappy sound; couldn't be helped, but actually, I kind of love them so whatever! xD). Okay, seriously though, I kept humming along to it in my internal brain stereo when I was trying to write so I figured I'd put some version of it through actual speakers. Maybe someone else will find some inspo too. :)

This piece starts, when Jane is climbing, with an expansion of the music from when Jane recovered her first memory, at the Statue of Liberty in 1x01. That carries through until she's back inside.

What we usually consider the Jeller theme is actually a mix off The Truth Can Save You from the season one OST. I won't tell you what scene that original mix is from because it would make me very unpopular and maybe ruin some people's day. We don't say the quiet part out loud, right? IT'S THE JELLER THEME. IT WAS NEVER USED FOR ANY OTHER SITUATION(s)* EVER. End of discussion.

In that spirit, the [definitely truly first and only time] it appears on screen is for The Scene in 1x10. I adore this mix they've put in 2x22. Everything before and after is sweeping, epic, angsty, evocative, tense, dramatic. Shout out to the strings and the timpanist!! But the Jeller theme nestled in the middle there is just... perfect. The timing to things on the screen - that Weller sound that kept dropping in and out of Torn Apart, coming into this mix just as he comes through the door, their two voices meeting in the middle, then hers again as she realizes what it means that, yeah, he is still wearing his ring. Somehow, it recaptures this sort of... sense of discovery, that hasn't been heard in it since that first appearance in 1x10, and frankly I'm not sure we ever quite hear again. I couldn't quite name what it is. The tempo, maybe? The Weller vs Jane vocals meeting at just the right point? The piano waiting its turn? Whatever it is, there's a sort of sweet, simple, fraught wonder in it, much like the reacquaintance happening on screen. It's just... *chef's kiss*

And then there's the not-so-subtle similarity between the driving crescendo, melody and overall sound when the new tattoos are revealed, and the... *drumroll*... Remi and Roman theme. ;D WELL DONE music team, you clever cookies. 😍

Now lest this get any ramblier or gushier than it is, That Scene in between the two aforementioned masterpieces. @indelibleevidence got there literally years before me, but for completion's sake: Make it Wit Chu by Queens of the Stone Age. :D *hypothetically if there were situation(s) there might be two. anyone feeling masochistic and/or chaotic? hmu i can maim you with facts and/or we can scream about it

#blindspot #blindspot 2x22 #blindspot rewatch 2022 #blindspot rewatch #blindspot ost #music of blindspot #blindspot s2 spoilers #blindspot s3 spoilers #2x01 is my forever love #but the last 12 minutes of 2x22 is my musical love #nachos blindspot oc

[crescentsteel]

Just Friends - Part 10

plot: fubu set up with Kuroo, model fem reader genre: fluff, smut, slow burn, angst  word count:  7k

A/N [More at the end]: 

I reviewed and edited Chapters 1 and 2 a bit because I kinda cringed at the errors and my writing was wonky (more than it already is now). No plot changes don't worry.

Thank you for all those who read this, especially to those who took their time to comment and feedback. It meant the world to me who stayed up later than usual and poured my heart out on this.

Part 9 || Epilogue || m.list

You instantly snapped your head up with expanded eyes. Despite the sternness his voice contained, you saw the delicate swirl of complex  emotions in his eyes, one that you haven’t seen him display before. You saw how the contrast of heartache and relief graced his features. 

“I love you, y.n.”

The quietness gave way for you to hear every single word he said. It was gently uttered, but firm on what it meant. 

It was almost magical, if not for the perplexity which came with that statement that enshrouded everything else.

As if the universe agreed with you, another set of lights landed on both of you, popping the enchanted bubble you two were in.

“Let’s go. We need to talk” He moved his hand from your waist to the back of your shoulder and guided you to his car. Still unable to regain your calm from what just happened, you absent-mindedly followed him and went inside the passenger’s seat.

“My place or yours?”

His question made you buck yourself up to the present again. It was the question that started your indecent affairs with Kuroo, and now he’s using it to settle what branched from said affairs.

“Did you really just ask me that?” You were unable to refrain yourself from retorting.

“What?” He asked back even though his eyes had a tender playfulness to them. He clearly knew what you meant but wanted you to elaborate for his entertainment.

You just rolled your eyes and ignored it. “Yours.” You weren’t playing his game. You just rather resolve the issue at hand somewhere not in your place. The last time’s conflict left you feeling vacant when he walked out the door and you stayed there with gloom lingering on every space of your place. You couldn’t do anything because it was your home. You just let it evaporate on its own.

In case things go South like they always do, you wouldn’t want to worsen the state of your already sullied abode. 

So you let him start the vehicle and drive off.

“I really thought you were gone again,” he broke the fragile silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I went to your place and they told me you left. I assumed you flew somewhere insanely far away for the second time.” All the involute sentiments he was carrying a while ago dissipated. He’s back to his laid-back self.

“Why would you think that?”

He sneered as his eyes flashed with bitterness even as he stared at the road. “Cause that’s what you do, kitten. You run away when things get too inconvenient for you.”

What could you say to that? 

Nothing. He was absolutely right. 

You tried to prove to yourself that you weren’t a spoiled rich brat by working your butt off, but it was never too difficult for you. You worked hard, but everything went smoothly like how you wanted them to. 

But with Kuroo, everything was in shambles. And in every chance you had to make things right with him, you chicken out. You blamed external factors such as timing not being right or other people were in the way. But you always had your chance. You just despised the fact that you had to cross certain barriers to move forward with your relationship with him. You wanted things easy. 

Before you left, you really believed that you wanted to confess to him just to get some clarity on your relationship. So why did you stop talking to him at all? If that was your only goal, you could’ve talked to him the morning after. But you didn’t. Because you didn’t like the pain of facing him again when he was messing around with women other than you. So instead of facing it head on, you ran away. 

It was the same when you confessed dead drunk and forgot the next morning. You were scared that he didn’t feel the same way, so you took the safe way out. 

And when it was becoming too much again, you were tempted to do the same exact thing you did ago: remove all the complications in your life by getting away from the source of it - Kuroo. 

With your mind flooded with realizations, you didn’t notice that you arrived at his place already. 

At least that was what you thought because he stopped the engine, but the neighborhood wasn’t familiar to you.

“Where are we?” you asked. 

“My place. Duh.” He answered before getting out. It was sarcastic, but it cheered you up. He was back to how he used to treat you before the drunken fiasco. It was just three weeks but it felt like you haven’t heard his taunts far longer than that. That’s how much you missed him.

You followed him and stepped out of his car as well. He must’ve moved out just recently, probably when you weren’t talking much, or else you would’ve known. 

“Glad to know you moved out of that dump.” Even with the current situation, you couldn’t just stay quiet when your mind instinctively thought of something to get back to his snarky remark. 

“Dump, huh?” He was looking at a certain building that you surmised was where his new apartment was. He scoffed before looking at you.

“Wonder why you agreed to let me fuck you in that dump though.” His grin spread wide enough that his teeth showed, clearly pleased with how he handled your usual battle of sarcasm.

You veered from his playful gaze and pursed your lips from the lack of a good response to bring down that haughty smile of his.

You regret ragging him on. You should’ve just stayed quiet. 

“Can we go inside now? It’s cold” You changed the topic being the loser that you were. 

“Come on then.” His satisfied smirk was still on his face knowing that he won that quick exchange. He waited for you to go to his side, then started walking towards the building.  

When you came back to the country, you thought it was odd that still stayed in his previous place. You were positive that he could afford to get a nicer one. Now it made sense. He was saving up for this. 

While heading to his unit, you could tell from the interior and the exterior of the building that the price of the place was above average. 

Inside the elevator, there was only you and him. He was about to press his floor number, but his hand stopped mid air before putting it down again.

“Wanna guess what floor I’m in?”

“And if I get it wrong?” He didn’t have to say it out loud for you to know where he was going with it. It was one of your gambling games. 

“You owe me nothing but the truth tonight.” Your bets were fun and the stakes were always petty but the weight of his stare let you know that the intent behind it was nothing compared to your previous wagers. 

He would demand nothing else but the truth from you when you two start to talk about the issue at hand. 

You found it strange. Of course, you would be honest. That’s the point of the conversation you’d be having when you reach his unit. 

But since he was acting like candor was of great worth to get from you, you’d ask for something of similar value. 

“If I get it right, I’m getting your Nekoma jersey. The one with No.1 on it.”

He was obviously taken aback from what you asked for. “Why that?”

“Why not?” You immediately asked back. 

He looked at the numbers on the side of the elevators while he scratched the roof of his teeth with tongue. 

“I changed my mind. I want all of them.”

“Huh?!”

“The odds aren’t right. There are 40 floors and the chance of getting it right is only 1/40. If you’d think about it, I’m even being generous.”

He clicked his tongue, acknowledging that your point was valid. “Deal.”

You instantly responded without even thinking twice, “22.”

You wished you could’ve captured his reaction. 

“You were already eyeing 22, dumbass. Your hand literally stopped in front of that number.” You shook your head as you snickered from that tiny victory, letting it take some of your tension away. “Say goodbye to your jerseys tonight,” you added. 

He usually won’t make such a mistake during your gambles. And because he did, you worked out that he must be distressed too. 

“Fuck.” He cursed then pressed the button you just said.

“Ugh fine, you can keep one.” You felt bad cause you even though the probability of you winning was low, the stakes for you were basically a given. 

The way on his unit was spent arguing on why the deal should be void because it wasn’t really a gamble since you already knew the answer. 

On his doorstep, you both hastenly arrived at a compromise of getting only his captain’s jersey, knowing that the inescapable confrontation is about to take place.

When he opened the door, it was nicer than you expected. It was modern looking with its minimalist interior and gray, black, and white tones. Your place was bigger but this looked more spacious because there weren’t unnecessary furnitures. 

The click of the door brought you back to why you were here. All the monkeying around a while ago was just a prelude to this and any impact it had on you was diminishing by the second. Things were about to get serious. You could feel anxiety crawling back to your skin. 

You didn’t wait for his hospitality and sat yourself on the couch. 

He immediately went after and sat beside you. 

You shook your head. “No.”

“What?” A frown creasing his forehead from the ‘no’ that came out of nowhere. 

“Don’t sit near me. It makes me uncomfortable.” It might have been rude, but you just had to say it. You want your mind working functionally so you can’t have him anywhere near your personal space. 

Instead of getting offended, he eyed you with consideration before standing up. He got a chair from his dining area and sat a good few steps away from you. He crossed his legs and arms. 

“So?” He proceeded, imploring you to be the first one to open the conversation that was suspended by the vehicle earlier. 

“What do you mean ‘so’?” You laughed sourly. “You’re the one supposed to explain things. Do you expect me to just accept what you said a while ago?”

He threw you a questioning look. “Is it really that hard to believe?” “You avoided me for weeks. When I tried to make up with you, you brushed me off cause you were seeing someone else. So my apologies for being so skeptical,” your last sentence full of uninhibited scorn.

“Who said I was seeing her? She’s just a volleyball player I’m working with.” If this was a normal conversation, he’d definitely have some snide comments to go along with it. But he didn’t swerve to his usual smugness. He remained pensive.

You couldn’t think of a decent reply except for an timid “Oh” that came from your mouth. You’re reassured that it wasn’t like that, but it was overpowered by the shame brought by your incorrect assumption.  

He didn’t wait for you to recover as he asked right away, “Why did you ignore me after that?” 

But despite the embarrassment, your brain was still running its engine properly. So you skillfully evade his query. “You still haven’t told me why you avoided me prior to that.”

He puffed a heavy breath. “I didn’t know how to get back to that friendship bullshit that you wanted so bad.” He uncrossed his legs and slouched with his elbows on his thighs. “Now answer my question,” he commanded.

“Well.. I didn’t want to intervene with whatever or whoever it is you’re busy with,” you said a bit too quickly without explaining further. “My turn again,” you continued on/

“No. I addressed two things from you so it’s still my turn,” he firmly asserted.

You were about to retaliate but he beat you to it with his own question. “How many times have I made you cry?”

It was an abrupt one that wasn’t in line with the previous questions that preceded it. You flinched from how it hit that certain memory you thought you moved on from.

“Never. What gave you that idea?” You denied as fast as you could. He didn’t have to know that insignificant detail. ‘It doesn’t  matter’ you told yourself even though you knew it was your pride that wouldn’t let you answer truthfully.

You’re glad to have won the bet earlier. Even though you thought you were going to be completely honest, there were just some details that need not be known.

Heated stares replaced words as both of you waited until the other withdrew. He was glaring at you, looking for an ounce of deceit. Too bad for him though because you have no intentions of folding. 

You arose the winner when he’s the first to concede as he straightened his posture from slouching. He leaned back on the backrest of his chair and sighed exasperatedly. 

“Man, I’d like to complain, but I guess your tenacity is one of the reasons why I fell for you.”

You were doing so well but with what he just said, your heart is back to the mess it was when he pulled you to him and said he loves you for the first time.

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” His smug grin back to its former glory, making you even more flustered than you already were.

“How can you say things like that so indifferently?” You voiced out, irritated at how he’s so relaxed while youre all wound up.

“Look. I’ve been keeping my mouth shut ever since you came back. Now that it’s out in the open, I’ll say it as much as I want to.”

Did you hear him correctly? He said ‘since you came back.’ When exactly did he start having feelings for you? 

“What do-”

“Hold it right there. You don’t get to ask anything yet since your last answer was a lie.”

You groaned. He shouldn’t be allowed to call you tenacious when he’s even worse than you are when he wants to be. “It is not. So let’s move on,” you tried to proceed but he cut you off right away.

“Kenma told me.”

Your solid defiance rapidly chipped from your secret being found out by the person you wanted to hide it from. You could only guess that Kenma told him just now. That’s why he was on a rampant chase to find you. 

The earlier gamble made sense now. He anticipated your refusal to admit what happened back then, back before you left. So he wanted to ensure that you would be forthright about it. 

Even after losing the bet, his goal was still secured for he had Kenma’s story as proof.

You tried to feel any hostility towards Kenma but you didn’t have it in your heart to do so. You trusted Kenma. He must have had a good reason for telling Kuroo now when he’d kept it well for more than a year.

“Fine,” you said under your breath. 

“Too many that I didn’t bother counting.”

Guilt darkened the diffidence on his face. He must not have expected that you would be the type to cry over a guy, especially him who started his relationship with you only as a bed warmer.  

But you went on with your previous question since that’s what was pervading in your mind. “When did you realize?” You were really curious since when the feeling has been mutual between the two of you. 

“Realize what?”

“That you l-,” you hesitated, reluctant to fully spat out the phrase completely even though he already said it first hand. Looking back, you don't know how you convinced yourself to admit your feelings to him when you’re stuttering from a trifling thing such as this. 

“That I love you?”

You staved off away from his perfervid stare, not able to handle it as you replied a brash “Yeah” to maintain your tough façade.

“At the very same night you were supposed to confess.”

You harshly returned your gaze to him. “Was that a joke?” You chuckled wryly. “In case you forgot, I was there.” 

You were grateful to Kenma being there at that moment, but it’s different when it’s finally Kuroo you’re confronting. You could feel all the unaddressed bitterness you buried deep inside take over you.

“I was hoping to get an honest conversation. Instead, I arrived at the godforsaken bar,” you continued with a forced smile, “and stood watch as you made that first move to kiss her, how you pulled her close like ….  like you couldn’t get enough.” The particular scene tore you back then and it does just the same now. Before you knew it, warm liquid pooled in the corner of your eyes without any warning. 

You turned your head sideway and let your hair cover your face. 

You didn’t want him to see how your lips quivered as you fend off a whimper that was already at the back of your tongue

You sealed shut any feelings you had for that certain chapter of your relationship with Kuroo. So you couldn’t understand the surge of sullenness that flowed through you. It must be from how paradoxical his narrative seemed. 

How could he claim to love you when he enjoyed the sultry company of another?

If Kuroo would think of two words to describe your personality, it would be determined and composed, to the point that you can seem cold and apathetic at times. You were the kind of person who didn’t give two shits to anything you found unnecessary or irrelevant. 

Since he met you, you constantly had your guard up as if people will find something awful if they get a tiny peek of what you really are. He couldn’t do something about that. He didn’t have any right to. You two were only fucking around. He later figured out that you didn’t want people to know who you really were - an heiress and a successful model. 

That’s why you traded carefully around people. 

But when you came back and asked only for friendship, you still had your fences up like you were hiding something. He thought maybe because you’ve had them up for so long that you didn’t know how to turn it off, even for him whom you considered a friend. 

So to see you struggling to keep your walls up that were slowly crumbling, he realized why you have a soft spot for Kenma. He’s already seen what you tried so hard to protect.

Disobeying your earlier instruction to not sit beside you, he stood up from the chair and moved to your side. 

When you saw him do so, you didn’t say anything. You only raised your hand to nimbly wipe your tears that were already falling. He grabbed your hand you were using and held it still on your lap. He replaced it with his own, drying your tears with his fingers. 

It was the least he could do with being the cause of it, and he was glad you let him even though you still kept your eyes away from him.

He trailed his fingers down your jaw and slightly lifted your face so he could look at you. What he saw was unrefined vulnerability, and even then, you wore it beautifully. 

He finally understood. That wall you built when you met again was exclusively for him. You guarded your heart from him. You created the friends only set up so you wouldn’t get hurt again.

It made him feel like shit. You really did love him back then, enough to cause you this pain.

“I’m sorry. I was half-assed about it at the time. Nothing more happened with me and whoever that girl was. I just,” he trailed off knowing that the next thing he’s going to say is gonna sound stupid. “used her to see if what I felt for you was real.”

You raised your gaze to him with eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“I know it’s idiotic, okay?” His voice took a slightly defensive tone as you were about to judge his line of thinking back then. “But we were only fuck buddies. I didn’t want to start a relationship with you then realize that I was just confusing the comfort of your company with something as serious as love.”

He stroked your knuckles after he explained.

“I really am sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.” His words dripping with remorse from every single tear that you shed for him without him knowing. 

“Why tell me only now? It’s been months since I came back.”

“You were insanely driven on being friends only. I didn’t think you feel the same way.”

No one said anything after. He couldn’t tell if you’re aware of it too, but he could feel tension in his every vein as his next question dangled on the tip of his tongue. 

“Do you?”

You bit your lip as you averted your eyes downwards again. 

“You know the answer to that already.”

Indeed he does. You wouldn’t be this affected if you didn’t. But he has to hear it directly from you. He has to hear you say you love him for real this time. 

“I need it to come from you.” He gently held your cheek to guide you back to his gaze. He needs to see the entirety of your face, especially your eyes, when you finally tell him how you truly feel about him. 

“I… I-” He could see your strenuous struggle to get the phrase out. You eminently tried as you kept uttering the first syllable but nothing after that. “I can’t say it,” you said defeatedly. 

He should be frustrated. He laid out all his cards open for you to see, but you refused to do the same when you had one last face down card that would declare the game over where you both win. 

But he held nothing but patience. He could wait for the phrase he’d been longing for as long as he made sure of something.

“You don’t have to if you can’t say it. But I’ll be honest. I,” he let out a deep breath before continuing, “I can’t stand us being friends only anymore.”

He removed his light grasp on your face as his hand travelled to the one that he hasn’t been holding. He lightly squeezed your fingers to get you to heed the attention he needed from you. 

“Be my girlfriend, y/n. Be mine.”

If you say no at this point, he’d lose his mind.

With his focus solely on you as he waited for an answer, he saw a subtle nod from you.

“Okay.”

It might seem too simple and bland of an answer. But you two had been going on through ragged stops for a year that he couldn’t care about trivial crap like that. 

It wasn’t sweet and he found that perfectly okay. Because it was you. He just needed you to finally let him be more than just fuck buddy, more than a friend.

And when your lips tugged on both corners to form a smile that was directed at him, especially for him, it made his heart soar.

“Is this really happening?”

You had the gall to be skeptical when his actions never hid his affection for you. He just didn’t say it out loud.

“You bet your ass it is.” Instead of his usual shit-eating smile that would’ve accompanied his response, his smile mirrored yours.

You were both happy.

Unable to contain himself, he acted on what always wanted.to without anything holding him back. 

He kissed you. 

No alcohol and no bullshit involved, just taking in that first touch of your lips as officially your lover.

His hands travel up to your shoulders as he scoots over to have you closer. You taste and feel ethereal. It was unlike any kiss you’ve shared in the past. The ache he had for you this whole time was being lulled by how your soft lips cascaded on his. 

His one hand goes up to the base of your neck while he parts your lips so he can have better access on the wonders of your mouth. 

You sighed helplessly to the kiss before withdrawing just a bit, your warm breaths still mingling with one another. 

“Wait,” you gasped inches away from his lips before burrowing your face on the crook of his neck. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked worriedly, stroking your neck and shoulder to soothe whatever it is that’s bothering you.. 

“It feels weird.”

“Weird how?”

You lifted your head and looked at him with the most insane blush he’s seen from you. Your cheeks were a rosy fury that highlighted a foreign countenance in your face. Your orbs were glossy and sparkling with a tiny hint of naivety that he’s never seen from you. Your mouth was compressed in a thin line that he could tell was done to prevent the trembling of your lips that was still slightly evident.

He managed to get another unknown aspect of you to surface, and goddamn what a pleasant surprise it was. 

He loves your confidence. It was sexy. But bashfulness was an exceptional look on you too. It provided depth to your character which was already fascinating to him to begin with. 

He couldn’t wait until he could fully discover everything about you, even the one you still weren’t aware of. 

“It’s like I’m overwhelmed by something until I can’t breathe. But I… I like it?” You glowered right after describing it, probably thinking that it sounded asinine. 

He was amused and charmed at the same time from how you tried to put into words how he was making you feel. 

“You do realize we’ve fucked countless times already.” He couldn’t resist goading further even when he knew exactly what you were talking about. 

“You don’t say,” you riposted, gaining your smart-assery back to which he laughs at. 

“God, I really love you.”

He lunges to claim your lips once more, his need to have more of you back with heightened intensity.

You were getting dizzy from how he was kissing you. It was much more needy than the previous one. You still haven’t fully grasped what just happened and yet he’s already filling your senses, making you forget the tiny insignificant details and retaining only one fact that mattered. 

You and him. 

His hand on your shoulder wanders down to your waist while you grasp his biceps for support as he pulls you even closer until you were straddling him. 

His mouth did not linger too long on yours as it impatiently trailed down your neck, interchanging loving kisses with hungry sucks that stirred your thirst for him.

You remembered some parts of the drunken sex you had, but they were just flashes and blurred images. The sensation from the experience wasn’t retained. 

It seemed like a far away memory compared to how he was making you feel at the present moment.

You suddenly feel him slip his hand underneath your shirt, palming your bare skin upwards until it reaches one soft mound which he doesn't hesitate to squeeze.

“Haaaa. Kurooo, wait,” you plead breathlessly. You were getting overwhelmed by how he swiftly fanned the flames of desire that was spreading throughout your body.

His lips left the sensitive skin of your collar and met your gaze with restrained hunger.

“What is it?” 

You didn’t know what to say. Did you want him to slow down or just have his way with you already?

He must have noticed your conflict so he decided for you. 

He chose the latter.

Both his hands scurried to your hips, guiding you to raise them slightly while his lips find their way to yours again. Not bothering to remove or even tug down your leggings, he slid one hand inside which was welcomed by your slick arousal. 

“Why’d you stop me when you’re already this wet?” He asked with pride flickering in his eyes knowing that it was him who caused it. 

But he did not let you answer as he shoved one finger in your core.

“Aahh,” your eyes closed shut and your thighs tremble from the sudden pleasure as your hands move to clutch his shoulders to anchor yourself. You rest your forehead on his while puffing heavily. 

“Kuroo...” you whimpered.

He steadies you with one hand, but does not relent as he inserts one more digit.

“Hmmm?” You could tell that he was enjoying your wanton surrender just from the way he sounded. 

“It feels too much,” you admitted. 

“Too much? Oh kitten, we’ve barely even started.”

He took the hem of your shirt and lifted it up. “Bite it,” he commanded and you complied obediently. 

He hoists your bra down your chest, exposing your unclad breasts to him. He eagerly takes one perk nipple in his mouth while his one hand goes around your waist. He retacts his fingers inside and rubs the bundle of nerves above your slit in hurried circles that were driving you to the brink of madness. 

He was right. This was still foreplay, but you were already so feverish. 

Your moans were muffled by how hard you were biting the cotton fabric of your shirt. 

“Take your shirt off. I want to hear you,” his voice raspy as he stopped everything he was doing that was making you feel good. You quickly yanked your shirt off so he could go back to doing them right away.

 As soon as your top was thrown away, he inserted the same fingers back again and started pumping in and out aggressively. 

With his request and the absence of your shirt, nothing was repressing the salacious sounds that were coming out of your mouth

The heat in the pit of your groin was building up too fast. It was a very steep peak that he was rapidly coercing you to reach. 

“Feels-ahh-so good.”

He groaned in response. He took out his digits and loosened his hold of you which made you flutter your eyes open. 

“Let’s take this to my bed,” he said ruggedly as he was about to get up. 

You firmly grasp his shoulders to stop him. “Wait.”

A dash of timidness came over you again which you couldn’t understand. Just like he said earlier, you’ve had a lot of sex. You did things more scandalous than what you had in mind, but you feel flustered just thinking about saying it out loud. 

“What is it?”

“Uhh,” you swallowed your nerves. “Do you mind getting your couch dirty?” 

He raised an eyebrow from your question, but was immediately followed by a riveting smile upon realizing what you meant. 

“Not all,” he took off his shirt then proceeded to unclasp your bra that was still lugged your breasts. 

“We can get it dirty as much as we want,” he whispered right in your ear. 

--

Sex with Kuroo before usually ended with both of you scramming to get water or go to the bathroom to clean up. Then when you went back to his bed, both of you just settled down in  whatever position you were comfortable in. 

Holding each other after sex just was never on the table. No one talked about it and no one initiated so you figured both of you weren’t into it. You weren’t sure about him but you found the act too intimate to do between casual sexmates.

You had no idea it felt this good to be cradled by him.

Your head was nested on his arm that he extended for you. His other one was enveloped around your waist and your face and hands were burrowed on his chest. 

“This is nice,” was an understatement that you breathed on his skin.

“Mmhmm. More especially since you’re awake and sober,” he hummed on your hair.

“Hmm?”

He chuckles lightly as he caresses your hair delicately, his fingers sometimes grazing your nape. 

“Yeah, I held you like this the night of my birthday instead of going back.”

You definitely had no memories of that. You knew he took care of you, but you didn’t think he got cozy in bed afterwards. 

“I thought awww poor you. You seemed like you could use a cuddle. You did beg me to fuck you after all.”

Typical of him, he had to be an ass and ruin the moment. 

But you didn’t believe him. You knew that’s not what happened. You did kiss him first and asked him to stay, but you did not beg. Even if you did forget everything, you still wouldn’t believe him. You’re not the type of person to beg.

“Don’t invent stories just because you wanted to feel me up after sex.” 

His chest rumbles within your touch as he worked up a laugh from your snappy comeback. “You’re really something, kitten.”

“You’re gonna keep calling me that, huh?”

He cranes his head back a bit, creating some space between you. You could tell he was peering at you.

“Don’t like it?”

You smile at his question. You found the nickname tacky at first, but it kind of got stuck with you. He’s never called you any other pet names other than that and it made you feel like it was solely for you.

“No, I love it.”

You tilt your head up a bit to look at him.

“I love you.”

You were so apprehensive earlier because of the torment that still lingered from the many failed attempts to tell him so. 

You thought you would need more time, but that doesn’t seem to be the case as he easily whisked your worries away just by being with him like this. 

You were finally able to tell him sincerely in your own accord. You didn’t realize keeping these feelings all to yourself was so heavy that letting it out was such a liberating experience.

As you free your chest with the restless burden of secretly loving him, you don’t feel empty because your heart was filled with content from knowing that he loves you just the same.

It reflects on his face, more so now that his smile is growing broader by the second which was accompanied by a noticeable flush on his cheeks that was illuminated by the dim light of his night lamp.”

“I love you too, y/n.” His eyes exuding profound adoration for you.

“I had my chance to tell you the morning after I got wasted. I just-”

“Hey,” he cut you off then removed his hand on your waist to cup your neck, his thumb brushing gently the curve of your jaw. 

“I have you now. That’s all I care about,” the elated smile still not leaving his face. 

“I can see that. You look too freaking happy,” you said as revenge for how he ruined your moment just a while ago. 

“Well, sorry I’m not emotionally constipated like you,” he quickly outwitted your attempt to mock him. 

“You scumbag,” you hissed despite his blissful smile infecting you. 

He pulls you again closer to him until your bodies stripped off of any clothing are perfectly molded against each other. 

“Yea yea, say whatever you want but I’m the scumbag you love.” Even when you couldn’t see his face anymore, you could still hear how enraptured he was. 

And so were you as you snuggled with him until you fell asleep. 

--

“Sorry, I’ll be a little late, kitten. I need to be here for a while even though the game ended already.”

You could hear him scuffling around with the dwindling sound of excitement in the background. 

You’re already late from your planned time, but he was running even later. Not that you were upset. You didn’t have major plans or anything. You just agreed to go to his place together since you’re spending the night there. 

“You have my keys, right? You can go ahead.”

“I can go there and wait for you,” you suggested since you still have some energy left from the orderly photoshoot you had this late afternoon. Also, you’d just be restless waiting for him at his apartment. 

“You sure?” He asked even though you were sure he’s smiling judging from the way he sounded. 

“Yup.”

“Okay then! Have to hang up now though. Love you, kitten,” then he ended the call. 

It’s been almost a month now since you two were officially together but he sometimes still catches you off guard with how he expresses his love for you without reservations. But you have no complaints. 

Upon arriving in Tokyo Stadium, there were only a few people inside, and some of those few are heading out. 

Thank goodness for that. Even if you weren’t feeling tired, you didn’t wanna get squashed by Volleyball enthusiasts. It would also make your bed-headed boyfriend much easier to find. 

You don’t want to call him just yet. He’s probably still occupied so you’ll just look for him. 

As you paced the area unsurely, you were starting to doubt your decision to look for him on your own. You had no idea stadiums had this kind of structure on the inside since you’ve never gone in one. You thought it was just one big open area with elevated benches.

Instead of going inside the actual playing arena, you went to the narrow halls that branched to the sides of the building.

Just before passing a certain corner, someone emerged from a room that you weren’t aware was actually there.

“Oy Hinata, I’m going ahead if you keep being a slowtard,” a tall, dark-haired man aggressively stated before walking towards your direction.

“Kageyama, you impatient turd!” A bright orange-haired guy, who’s probably called Hinata, came out right after, hurrying to go after the dark haired one who’s most likely Kageyama.

Before he could even pass you by, you lock eyes with Hinata.

A snap of familiarity hits you both.

“Waah. Ms. Pretty!” He said in English, completely and overwhelmingly affable that it was almost adorable.

Oh right, you spoke in English the first time you met.

“Hello.” You smiled politely, still holding up your non-Japanese speaking facade.

Kageyama stopped walking and turned his attention to you. He bowed then looked at Hinata. “You know her?” He asked in Nihongo.

“Not really. But it was kinda funny, Kuroo-san called her ‘kitten’ but she didn’t really know him,” Hinata grinned from amusement only but Kageyama didn’t respond.

Hinata frowned and took a semi defensive stance. “You better not tell Kuroo-san I said that.”

You just alternate your gaze between the two men, deciding whether you should admit that you could actually speak Nihongo and that you’re looking for Kuroo or just let things play out as is. 

“What’s the noise all about?” 

Another set of recognizable faces turned up - fake blondie, curly, and black and white.

It wasn’t hard to guess why they were there. They were athletes. They weren’t just guests in the event. They were most likely brand ambassadors too, except for Kageyama. It’s the first time you saw the man. 

They must be part of the national team. Kuroo did say it was an international match today.

Fake blondie’s face lit up as soon as his eyes landed on your face. He quickly made his way to approach you, passing by Hinata when he did.

“You lost, pretty girl?” It contained everything Hinata’s previous compliment lacked, pure flirtatiousness together with a come-hither smile. 

So the Volleyball national team can somehow speak English. Although, they still retained their heavy accents.  

You studied fake blondie in front of you and quickly decided that you wouldn’t date him even if you haven’t met Kuroo. The guy’s hot, but he seems like an idiot.

“Y/n?”

Someone who you didn’t have to identify by his hair entered the scene, Yaku. 

You wave reservedly at him for you still haven’t forgotten how you acted around him the first you met.

“What’re you doing here?” He, then, turned to fake blondie. “Cut it out, Miya-san. I’m certain she’s not interested.”

“She can’t understand Nihongo, Yaku-san.” Black and white appeared to be whispering but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.. 

Yaku threw him a confused look. “What? I met her around two months ago. She’s a local, Bokuto.”

The Miya person scowled, “Geez. Could’ve saved me the trouble.”

You just ignored him and shifted your attention to Yaku. 

“I’m looking for Tet-” you cleared your throat. He’s been pestering you to call him ‘Tetsu’ every single day until you just succumbed to it and it became normal to you. You almost addressed him as such to these people who you presume he’s working with. 

“I’m looking for Kuroo.”

Yaku raised an eyebrow with intrigue twinkling on his whole face. “Oh?” 

“Mmmhmm,” you answered obscurely. 

“You friends or somethin?” Miya asked with an ounce of wariness, changing your initial thought of him being an idiot.

Yaku grinned. “They’re just friends,” he answered for you, obviously anticipating whether you’d agree or not. 

You weren’t ashamed of dating Kuroo, but you’ve had some kind of weird interaction with these people that involved Kuroo, save for Kageyama obviously. Poor guy must be confused at the novelty of what’s happening.

From behind Bokuto and the curly haired guy whose name you still have no idea what, the man you were looking for presented himself and walked towards you. 

Those he passed by had their eyes lingering on his back with Miya being the last person to notice him since Miya is the closest to you. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he puts a possessive arm around you, “ but this lost lady here is my girlfriend.” 

You tried to hold off a smile, but it was futile. You didn’t expect that announcing it to other people was that gratifying after more than a year of consistently telling people otherwise. . 

Damn it feels good to be more than just friends with Kuroo. 

A/N”

I want to cry. This was my very first fic and my very first series as well. I'm so happy to see it through and finish it.

I'm thinking of an epilogue maybe next year, but for now, I'm marking it as completed.

I love you all.

Part 9 || Epilogue ||  m.list

taglist (thos in bold and crossed out can’t be tagged)

@lia-faerie-queen @mkkhaikyuu @fastidious-and-precise @winunk @feelkindahorny @cece-lives-here @arendizzle @phantomneko0 @ysatrap @babythotshq @ameliaxo @miiy @kurooscoochie @lucifers-luv @suikrem

#kuroo smut #kuroo fluff #kuroo angst #kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu series #haikyuu x reader

[whydoilooklikeawetdog]

Day 16: Least Favorite Snow Kid

D’Jok  

Sigh, this is going to be long.

Jok is an ass that can’t reasonably handle his emotions so he explodes at people around him, now I never liked him for that even tho it was understandable because of how I was raised you know, personal stuff but some people thought it made him more interesting. I never liked how the universe seemed to spin around him literally and figuratively, how the show always portrayed him as “the best” even though every SK is crucial to winning.

There’s more I’d like to focus on what made me love him as a character and what was later run over with a car and thrown into a ditch. He is a douche but it’s shown that he cares so much for his loved ones and the scene where Maya tells him the truth about his past and the SINGLE THING that he focuses on is how much she’s done for him? Brilliant. He is competitive and fierce which can be explained by a lack of a father figure but let’s not dive into that, this need to succeed at the sport he loves most and growing with his team is what drives him but also destroys him for me, D’Jok is called out time and time again and sometimes he does acknowledge his fault but then the writers have him do the same thing again. He should know that treating Yuki that way is not going to improve their situation but he can’t handle his stress so he does something he later regrets. Personally, I can’t stand those types of people but goddamn, I’ll be damned if his development growing as a team leader, person, and friend doesn’t make that up. It is magnificent. I cannot wait to see him in the next season where his personality and development can shine! Oh, wait no, the season needs drama so we regress Jok’s development so that he can still be a pretentious asshole to his team. His S2 growth where he grows to be one of the best characters in the show? Never heard of it, let’s write that useless drama that doesn’t even lead to anything besides superficial conflict. Guys, Alphaim, please, D’Jok is great, he’s one of my favorite protagonists because he is an asshole and not the bland goody-two-shoes as many are but he’s still a good person whose goals are unique to himself. So another season comes around and they forget his development and use the same, the goddamn same gimmick with how he’s a bad leader, but like? Alphaim, my boy really is more interesting and has more things to explore with his character than just this one thing, I’m not saying to stop giving him development and just toss him aside just do not go repeating the same bs cause it is downright disrespectful.

Season 3. oh.my.god.

Jok leaves the SK. JOK leaves the SK. I’ll skip over the fact that he would NEVER but oh no our MC doesn’t have a dramatic enough moment this season! Yes he does, I am speculating this was going through the writer’s heads ‘cause I see no other explanation. Mei leaves, she’s always been there and now she’s gone because they both had a falling out before the season’s start, he fucked up royally after the lost “friendly” match vs The Shadows where Mei is clearly distressed and is bottling it all up and he just start going off, they’re both not innocent in this and Mei manifesting the Smog is the culmination of all of this. No matter if all of his development is thrown out of the window or not Jok would’ve reacted badly to this, he wouldn’t however act like this after the fact. So going back, D’Jok could’ve had his” big moment” as I mentioned previously by staying with his team and slowly working things out with himself with the aid of the team, this would’ve been so much more impactful than the superficial, dramatic ass, bland and empty, uncharacteristic, bullshit that season 3 served up and called it quit. Now, why is D’Jok misogynistic in season 3, after Lord Pheonix introduces him to Team Paradisia he is so triggered by the fact that they’re all women......I...have no words, D’Jok being a douche to Yuki in S2 was so, so annoying but it paid off and it was one of the best moments in the show. This. Why.  He used to be my second fave, look how they massacred my boy

#galactik football

[marjansmarwani]

I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart

5.1k || ao3

When Carlos and his partner encounter the bank robber with the bomb, Carlos knows in his gut that the man is telling the truth. But it's not that simple because nothing ever is so when the man offers a compromise Carlos jumps at it and he tries to help him by removing the bomb. It does not end well, and it's left to TK and his crew to pick up the pieces.

TK wants nothing more than for Carlos to be okay, than for this nightmare to be over, but when Gabriel Reyes arrives it's clear that the universe is not done throwing curveballs at them yet. ----- Day 3 of Angst Week: Coda/Fix-it for 2x08

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

“Trust your instincts, Carlitos,” his dad had told him, “they are the only thing in life that won’t steer you wrong.”

He had been 15 at the time and he and his dad had spent hours together, working side by side on the ranch, Gabriel dropping words of wisdom as they came to him and interspacing it all with anecdotes and thrilling stories from his job. It was normal, such a typical part of his life that he didn’t think about it until it had happened less and less shortly after he had turned 17, shortly after he had a certain conversation with his parents.

Logically he knew there were a number of reasons for this: he had graduated high school shortly after and was around the ranch less and less. His dad had gotten a promotion and was working longer hours. There were any number of reasons that all made perfect sense, but Carlos could never shake the feeling that maybe that one conversation had been one of them. It didn’t change the fact that those hours and those stories and chats had been so formative to Carlos. They were a large part of the reason he had become a cop, and they were a large part of what shaped his conscious and his decision-making process.

And now, standing in an alley with his gun leveled at a man with a bomb strapped to his neck and a bag of stolen money in his hands, it came back to him again: trust your instincts.

His instincts told him this man was telling the truth, that he was being forced and that his life was in danger. He believed him when he told him that he wanted nothing more than to get home to his son, to little Enrique. But he couldn’t just let him walk away with a bag full of several thousand dollars — not if he wanted to keep his job.

Mitchell and the suspect were both watching him, both waiting for him to come to a decision, to break the tie. He knew what his partner wanted to do. He knew that she wanted to follow the book, but his instincts were screaming at him that it wasn’t right, that they would be condemning an innocent man to death and a child to a life without his father.

Perhaps the man sensed his hesitation; maybe he somehow knew that Carlos was on the fence because when he spoke next it was directed to him, and it was a compromise: “If you can get this thing off of me,” he began, voice steady but eyes still pleading, “I will give you the money and go with you. I’ll tell you everything I know about the people who did this. Please, I—” he broke off and when he continued his voice had lost its steadiness. It was full of desperation, “I don’t want to die.”

Carlos looked at Mitchell, but he was already lowering his gun. They communicated silently for a moment before his partner relented, lowering her own weapon, “Fine, but we are not touching it. We are calling for the bomb squad.”

“There’s not enough time for that,” the man protested. “If I’m in one place for too long they’ll know something is wrong. And if they think something is wrong…” he trailed off, but Carlos could fill in the blanks pretty well.

“Go ahead and radio for the bomb squad,” Carlos told Mitchell as he holstered his weapon, “but I’m going to take a look. I think he’s right and that means we don’t have that kind of time on our side.”

“Reyes—”

“We don’t have a lot of options here, Mitchell,” he reminded her tersely. “Either we run the risk of driving what is possibly an active explosive device into a police station or we let him go. I think this is the best shot we have, for everyone involved.”

She bit her lip, but nodded, “Do what you can, but please try not to get yourself blown up Reyes. That’s an awful lot of paperwork.”

“I’ll do my best,” he agreed as he stepped forward, gesturing for the man to turn so he could see the mechanism clasped around his neck. It looked fairly simple, at first glance, but there were some wires that were concerning, to say the least.

“Anything you could tell me that might help?” he asked the man wryly, but he shook his head frantically.

“No, they just held me down and put it on. I couldn’t stop them. I…” he broke off with a sob and Carlos could feel his heart clench.

“Hey,” he told him evenly, “we’re going to do everything we can to get you out of this and home safe to Enrique, I promise. I just need you to stay calm and still. Can you do that?”

He waited until the man started to nod before thinking better of it and instead giving him a small, quiet, “Yes.”

“That’s good,” Carlos told him bracingly, “now just hang tight and I’m sure we’ll have this off in no time.”

He felt around the band holding it to his neck. While the device itself looked complex, closer inspection showed him that it was secured to the terrified man by simple straps. He made quick work of them with his utility knife, and even though some were too close to wires for his comfort he is still able to cut enough of them that between him and his partner, they are able to ease it off the man.

When it is finally off he nearly sags in relief, almost collapsing on the ground before them and only held aloof by Mitchell’s bracing hold.

“Thank you,” he told him appreciatively, “thank you! I thought...thank you.”

“Of course,” Carlos said evenly, studied the device now in his hands, “I’m just glad we were able to get it off without incident.”

“Maybe they were lying to me,” the man admitted, “I was too scared to ask too many questions. Maybe it’s just a fake after all.”

Carlos wanted to believe him, but while he was no expert in explosives the contraption in his hands did not look fake. His opinion was reinforced when the lights started blinking more rapidly, and the man paled.

“The tracker,” he whispered. “They must have realized that I’m not coming, they must have triggered it. I’m so…”

But Carlos didn’t wait to hear the rest of his apology. “Get down!” he instructed Mitchell, who pulled the man down with her even as his desperate eyes followed the device and his mouth still moved in soundless apologies. Carlos pulled his arm back and launched the device as far away from them as he could, further into the alley before them. Maybe he could throw it far enough, maybe it wouldn’t be a large explosion. Maybe whoever had made it wasn’t good with explosives, maybe it wouldn’t even…

But all of his conjecture was cut short by a resounding boom as the device exploded in the air. The force of the blast pushed him off his feet and the searing heat caught him on the way down. It was disorienting; loud and fast and hot. He could feel his body being pelted by debris, he could feel the sharp pain as it sliced through him on its way by. He hit the ground with a resounding crash that echoed in his head as it bounced off the ground as pain bloomed from everywhere all at once. His last view was of bits of destruction raining down like snow, gently drifting as it obeyed gravity. It could have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for the pain.

He blinked again, feeling his eyes grow heavy. He wanted to look around, to check on his partner and the man who had formerly had a bomb stuck to his chest. He couldn’t summon the energy to move an inch. He supposed he could take the small comfort of having been right, he supposed as his eyes drifted closed. His instincts had been right, on all of this.

His last fleeting thought before everything went black was that sometimes he wouldn’t mind if his instincts were wrong.

-----------

The 126 paramedic crew pulled up to the scene in tense silence. The intel had been spotty but what they knew was enough to have TK gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white: there had been reports of an explosion, there had been police on the scene before the explosion, and those police could not be reached now.

That was all they knew because it was all dispatch had been able to piece together. There was no saying what kind of explosion or what kind of destruction it had left behind. There was no knowing what had gone down or who the officers ever were. All TK knew was that his gut was filled with a dread that grew incrementally as he sped towards the scene. He knew that his team had picked up on his tension, that they understood how his fear was different from theirs. He couldn’t put into words how much he appreciated them letting him be.

There was an eerie silence over the scene as they stepped out of the ambulance when they arrived. They weren’t far from the main street; it was as if a hush had fallen over the alley in reverence to the fallen. Because there were fallen — they could see that now as they drew closer. Three figures sprawled on the ground; unmoving and surrounded by destruction. They gathered their gear and rushed forward, Tommy alerting dispatch that they would require additional RA units to respond.

It was another step and another heartbeat before TK realized just how well he knew one of the fallen figures and in that instant, he couldn’t breathe. His feet moved forward of their own accord and his mind frantically tried to process every detail of the horrible sight before him as he crashed to his knees besides Carlos’s still form. There was blood, but he couldn’t tell from where. Burns were likely too, given the singe marks and lingering heat. But TK’s chief concern was that Carlos wasn’t moving, that there had been no acknowledgment of his arrival. Even in sleep, Carlos seemed to know when TK was nearby but now, there was nothing.

He reached out a shaking hand to his neck, holding his breath as he waited, as he prayed to feel the familiar thrum of a pulse under his hand. For a long moment, there was nothing and TK was sure he would shatter. But he shifted his hand because Carlos couldn’t die today and tried again. He waited, every ounce of his being focused on the hand on Carlos’s pulse point until a slow but steady rhythm began to beat under his fingers and TK finally allowed himself to breathe.

“Pulse is weak but present,” he announced to Tommy who had kneeled beside him, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears. His captain nodded and reached into her bag, pulling out her gear as she appraised TK.

“Are you good Strand?” she asked. “Usually I would tell you to stand down, but given the situation, we don’t really have a choice. I need all hands on deck.”

TK took a deep breath and nodded, reaching into the case beside him to pull out what they would need. No, he was not good but he knew Tommy was right: there was no other option. Either he did this or risked losing Carlos for good, and he would always do anything in his power to stop that from happening. That was not an option he could live with. “I’ve got this Cap, what do you need me to do?”

“Start the exam while I finish up his vitals. We need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

“What about the other two?” he asked even as he started following her instructions. “Don’t you need to…”

But Tommy shook her head, “They’re both relatively fine, Nancy can handle them until more help arrives. Reyes here seems to have taken the brunt of the blast.”

TK nodded without hesitation. It sounded like Carlos, after all: always trying to be everyone’s shield.

He began his exam, starting with his head. It seemed like every moment revealed a new injury: blood on the back of his head, likely from a fall. Cuts and abrasions of various sizes littered across his body, fragments of what looked like a car taking up residence where they didn’t belong. Each new discovery struck TK like a physical blow, but he pushed on.

The head injury was the most concerning, for a while. But as TK moved forward, as he examined more he learned that was not the case. There was a large piece of sharp metal sticking out of the left side of his abdomen and though TK had no way of knowing how long it was, it looked as if the majority of it was buried inside Carlos’s body, far far too close to vital organs for TK to breathe easily. He sucked in a breath and alerted Tommy, who grimaced when she saw it.  

“Pack it tightly,” she instructed him, handing him the gauze and tape necessary for the job, “make sure there is no room for it to move during transport. We want it held still until they are able to remove it at the hospital.”

TK nodded and took the gauze, tightly winding it around the intrusive object so that it held firm. He watched with dread as the gauze steadily turned red as blood sluggishly leaked out from around it. There were so many ways an injury like this could go wrong, too many ways that it could turn fatal. The thought alone was almost enough to send TK reeling but he pushed it down. This wasn’t the time; Carlos needed him here. He needed him focused. He couldn’t risk falling apart when the very existence of the one person who just might mean more to him than anyone else in this world depended on it.

TK and Tommy had finished examining Carlos and packing what wounds they could to prep him for transport when the requested additional units arrived. Tommy gave them a run down as TK and Nancy loaded Carlos onto the gurney and transferred him to the back of the ambulance. Not a word was said when TK climbed into the back instead of the driver’s seat, Nancy stepping around to take that spot instead without a word.

As they drove he and Tommy continued working; monitoring and treating Carlos the best they could. In all that time and all the movement, Carlos had not stirred once and TK tried hard not to think about that, to dwell on what it might mean. He managed to hold it together, to stay professional and focused until they arrived at the hospital and unloaded the gurney, Tommy relaying the necessary info to the medical team that met them at the doors.

He held it together until the moment Carlos’s still and bloody form disappeared through the doors of the trauma bay. Then, with nothing left to focus on, he finally let the tears come.

He felt arms around him and felt himself being guided to a chair that he sank into gratefully, aware now that his entire body was trembling. Now that they were here and now that Carlos was in the care of the doctors, the situation was out of his control. Whatever happened now, he had no say in. He had done all he could and he had to hope that it was enough. Carlos’s injuries returned to him in flashes and TK knew with a sinking dread this was not going to be a short wait. It would be a while before any news came; good or bad.

So he sat here in the waiting room, tears running down his face and his team at his side, waiting for the answer he knew would come eventually, hoping and praying that it would be one he could live with. That somehow, despite all the odds, Carlos would be okay.

TK couldn’t lose him, it was as simple as that.

---------

After a while, there are no more tears left.

It was a surprisingly short time before he cried himself dry, until he pulled himself together and settled into quiet fear. Tommy and Nancy settled in to wait with him, offering their quiet reassurances and comforting presence until their radios sounded. He found words enough to assure then that it would be fine, that he understood. That he would be fine on his own. They didn’t look like they believed him, but what other choice did they have? So, with a promise that he would keep them updated and that they and the rest of the crew would be by as soon as they could, they were gone and TK was alone.

He sat in silence, alone in the waiting room, trying to keep his mind from spiraling. But no amount of bouncing his leg could keep him from picturing the scene, from thinking of what Carlos must have gone through, from imagining the worst. He twisted his hands in his lap, noticing a spot of blood that had slipped past the protection of his gloves on the inside of his wrist. He swallowed and turned his arm so he couldn’t see it. He didn’t need a physical reminder; the scene was still all too fresh in his head.

Every single detail of it was seared into his mind and TK knew with a sinking dread that this was one of those times where being a paramedic put him at a disadvantage. He had seen more than his fair share of injuries and over time, you got a sense from the ones that people walked away from. The injuries he had treated Carlos for — the ones that had littered the body he loved so well — were not those. He knew that losing Carlos was a real possibility.

He also knew that it wasn’t that simple. He knew that losing Carlos meant losing his world, and he couldn’t face that.

Nearly an hour of silent, solitary waiting passed before he heard footsteps approaching his seat in the waiting room. His mind was still too fractured to process their proximity so when they halted and someone sank into the chair beside him, he hardly gave it a thought (he hardly had a thought left to give). The tears may be gone but the bone-deep fear was ever-present and all-consuming; his constant companion as he sat and waited, rubbing his still shaking hands on his legs.

And so he doesn’t process anything until the figure beside him started speaking: “You know, Carlitos didn’t always want to be a cop. He wanted to be an astronaut first, for the longest time.”

The voice was shaky but startlingly familiar. It took TK a moment to place it but when he did the shock was visceral; running through his whole body as he looked up to see Gabriel Reyes sitting next to him, eyes staring off in the direction of the treatment rooms that currently held his son.

“Maybe if I had encouraged that desire a bit more, we wouldn’t be here,” the man said quietly, sadly. “Maybe he would be a world away, but safe.”

TK didn’t know what to say to that. Somewhere between the shock of his boyfriend’s father appearing and the fact that he was speaking to him as if he knew him TK had lost the ability to speak. He could simply stare.

“I suppose that’s neither here nor there though,” Gabriel continued, “I suppose we are past what-ifs.”

He turned then, taking his first look at TK. He looked him up and down, registering the blood staining his uniform and the anxiety and fear radiating from him with a grim expression. “You treated him,” he observed, voice growing quieter and softer. “First of all, thank you. No matter what happens, thank you.”

His gaze held TK’s, his eyes (so much like Carlos’s it almost broke TK to look at them) sad and heavy with worry. TK swallowed down the tears that threatened to return and nodded.

“I can’t imagine having to do that,” Gabriel continued in the same tone, “I can’t imagine having to keep your head about you when you see someone you care about hurt like that. That shows real strength, in my opinion. I’m not so sure I would be as strong.”

TK heard the words being said, but he simply stared in response. Someone you care about he had said. And the look in his eyes…

“You knew?” TK said, finally finding the words that had eluded him for so long, “About Carlos and I?”

Gabriel nodded, “Since we ran into y’all at the market,” he confirmed.

TK was left staring again, but for a different reason. Carlos’s parents had known. They had known for weeks now. They had known as Carlos tore himself apart, they had known as the secret almost ripped TK and Carlos apart. They had known and they hadn’t said anything.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he finally managed.

“We wanted Carlitos to come to us on his own, in his own time,” Gabriel told him softly. “We didn’t want to push.”

TK watched the older man look sadly back towards the doors separating them from Carlos and for the first time since it happened, he found an emotion besides fear rising up in him.

“It has been eating him alive,” he told Gabriel, voice far stronger and far sharper than before. “It almost cost us our relationship. He is afraid of how you will react, he is so afraid that…” he trailed off, feeling that he was veering into territory he should never enter without Carlos’s consent or presence. He allowed himself a breath before he continued: “He was afraid to tell you and this whole time you’ve known?”

It’s not until his hot anger begins to fade from his mind that he can fully process the reaction from his boyfriend’s father. Gabriel’s eyes are wide in shock and horror, and TK came to his senses with a resounding crash.

“I’m sorry,” he says more softly, calmly. “That was out of line. It’s not my place to—”

“No, I think it is,” Gabriel disagreed, cutting off TK’s apology. “It’s your concern as much as his, after all.”

“Still,” TK tied again, “I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“Perhaps not,” Gabriel agreed with a dry laugh that felt so foreign amongst the fear still so heavy in TK’s heart, “but it certainly got the point across.”

They studied each other for a moment before Gabriel spoke again, “I know I haven’t been a perfect father,” he admitted, “but I do love my son.”

“I don’t doubt that,” TK assured him. “Carlos loves you too, I know that for sure.”

“And you?” Gabriel asked, fixing him with a piercing gaze. “Do you love my son?”

“I do,” TK said firmly. “More than I have ever loved anyone.”

“Does he love you?”

“Yes,” TK said, without hesitation. “He has never let me doubt that, even when I’ve wanted to.”

There was silence again as the two men regarded each other and after a long moment, Gabriel nodded, expression sad.

“We’ve missed so much,” he said quietly. “We should have done better. We will do better,” he promised, voice stronger as he met TK’s eyes, “when he wakes up.”

His voice was strong and his eyes certain, and TK nodded, taking comfort in the older man’s certainty that there would be a future, that they would get to see Carlos again.

Gabriel smiled at him before continuing, “I’d like to get to know you, TK. You and my son and what you are together; if you’ll let me.”

The expression on the older man’s face was sincere and despite everything, TK managed to find the smallest of smiles.

“I’d like that,” he agreed. “I’d like that very much.”

-----------

If Carlos had to describe everything that came after the pain in a word it would be confusion.

There was pain and then darkness, that he knew for sure. But everything after was a haze. There were moments of awareness (he thinks) here the darkness lifted and he could hear voices. He couldn’t make out the words and the voices didn’t make sense. It sounded like TK and his father, but he didn’t know how that was possible. Awareness didn’t last for long though, so his final thought before he slipped back into the darkness was that his mind was playing tricks on him.

When he woke up again, his head felt clearer. He was more sure that he was actually awake and alive, this time. There were still voices and he could almost make out the words. He could even place them with absolute certainty: they were TK and his father. But that still didn’t make any sense, even to his less hazy mind.

He blinked his eyes open, having to repeat the process several times in order to adjust his eyes enough to see. There was a hand holding his own and he squeezed it, hearing a familiar intake of breath in response.

“Carlos?” TK asked voice choked with emotion, “Can you hear me, babe?”

“Ty,” he said in response, pulling his eyes open fully and tilting his head to drink in the sight of his beautiful boyfriend, grinning through tears. He tried to reach up a hand to wipe them away but his limbs felt heavy.

“Try not to move too much,” TK said softly, “you’re still pretty hurt.”

“What happened?” he asked, and TK looked across his bed before another familiar voice cut through the room.

“What do you remember, Carlitos?”

Carlos whipped his head around to the other side of the bed - or at least, whatever the slow and painful equivalent of whipping his head was - to see his dad sitting in the seat to his right.

“Dad? What’re you...” he trailed off turning to TK again with a baffled expression but his dad pressed on.

“Try to answer the question, mijo. What do you remember?” His dad’s voice was soft but the instruction was clear. Carlos looked into his dad’s eyes as he tried to pull the bits of memory together into a cohesive memory.

“There was a man,” he said slowly, “he robbed a bank, but he didn’t want to.” He paused and his dad nodded and smiled at him, urging him to continue. “There was a bomb around his neck, he said two guys forced it onto him. He said they had a tracker on him so he couldn’t go with us because they would set it off. He said that if we could get it off of him he would come with us though and tell us everything he knew, so I did. I guess it didn’t like that much though, because the last thing I remember is it exploding, I think.”

There was silence as he finished his account and Carlos pieced the rest together in his mind. Mitchell hadn’t wanted him to try, she wanted to wait for the bomb squad…

“Mitchell!” he exclaimed, looking frantically back to TK, “and the man. Are they…?”

“Easy Carlos,” TK said calmly, squeezing his hand again and leaning closer, “don’t worry, they’re fine. A little banged up, but you got the worst of it. It looked like you were closest to the blast,” he added quietly, voice turning more serious. “You were certainly the worst off of the three of you.”

Something in the way TK said it filled him with dread. “Did you…” he began, and TK nodded. “Ty,” he said softly, squeezing his hand this time as best he could, “I...I am so sorry. I wish you never had to see that, I can’t even imagine.”

“Don’t you even start with me, Carlos Reyes,” TK told him firmly. “This was not your fault. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

“Besides,” his dad added from the other side, “I think we should all count our blessings that it was your boy and his team. I have no doubt they are the best and that they would have moved heaven and earth to save you.”

Carlos couldn’t agree more, as much as he would rather TK never have to experience that level of pain on his behalf ever. He was about to say as much when something else his dad said struck him. Your boy. He knew. He knew that TK was his boyfriend. He looked to his dad again, searching his face for any clue before finally asking the question.

“You know?” His dad’s expression didn’t change and Carlos shifted his gaze to TK, who looked down.

“I’m sorry Carlos, I know you wanted to tell them in your own time but…”

“But your boy did nothing wrong, Carlitos,” his dad interrupted, shooting TK a firm look. “We already knew. I approached him. All he did was make me see how we had been hurting you by not acknowledging it and for that, I am so sorry son.”

Carlos blinked at his dad, processing his words before turning to TK with a raised eyebrow, “Do I want to know what happened while I was unconscious?”

TK grimaced and his dad laughed, “I will say you’ve found yourself a tough one. He has spine for sure, mijo.”

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed, studying TK as he winced at his dad’s statement, “he’s pretty special.”

TK relaxed at his words and gave him a warm smile, squeezing his hand gently. Distantly he could see his father watching them fondly and Carlos was struck by the surrealness of this moment. He had pictured this so many times: his boyfriend and his dad co-existing, him casually showing his affection for someone he loved in the presence of his family. He had ached for it for so long and a part of him had always been convinced that it would never be any more than a dream.

Yet here they were. The proof was right before him in the hand holding his own, in the soft kisses pressed to his forehead by the man he loved, in the soft smile of his father as he watched from his chair on the other side of his bed. Never had he expected to find such happiness in the wake of such pain and fear, but he knew he would be eternally grateful for this ending to this disaster because it had brought about a wonderful beginning.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #carlos reyes #tarlos fic #tk strand #my writing #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #usermaximus #userbones #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #reyesstrand #jazzyjess #hierophvnts #maizsnex #buckybarnesalways #reyeslonestartag #immortalstrand

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Dumbass got stabbed III

I really thought I had finished with this two shot but after a request from @/booksrlife300 on ao3 asking for the aftermath I really couldn't resist making it a three shot. And my writing demon certainly agreed because it really went wild during my plane ride.

Anyway here is part three (and i think the final part) to dumbass got stabbed.

Recap (since it's been over a year):

Percy gets stabbed by a monster after coming back from the movies with his friends and the first place he goes to is Jason's house. Jason nearly has a heart attack after Percy collapses on his door and then he pulls him inside and stitches him all up.

This fic starts with Percy waking up the next morning.

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Percy wakes up to searing pain. It spills across his skin like an upturned sowing box. He doesn't know where it's coming from because it feels like it's coming from everywhere. He can't even take stock of his body because he feels like one big pincushion. He supposes being stabbed makes him a pincushion.

He doesn't want to open his eyes. He can feel the light behind them. Too bright. Too loud. Too not how he feels.

He feels like deep darkness. Like the darkness just before a star explodes. The darkness before the sky erupts. The kind that blankets all of his senses except the one that pings danger. That's red and wailing at him. But then pain so untamed it turns his vision orange lances across his side and his eyes snap open with a low howl.

He can see white ceiling. He can see black dots. He hears scrambling, clothes rustling and something falling over. And then he can see blue eyes. And then he can see skies and oceans and glass bottles and concern like mothering hens staring down at him.

"Percy," His name is a growled gasp. Sleep still clinging to the strings of his friends voice box, scratching it's way down his throat.

"Hello, I'm in immense pain." Vaguely he notes that he sounds like an automated machine relaying it's faulty inner workings. That's half how he feels now that the burning-orange pain has lessened to a caution-yellow.

"Here," A golden hand, fingers wrapped in individual bandages, long and racing with green veins, holds out a square to him. It is small and unassuming. Nobody would guess it holds the food of gods. Then again nobody would guess those gods existed.

His mouth feels as though he's been eating his clothes for sustenance the last week. All heavy tongue, dry saliva glands, and teeth too smudgy to be healthy. He considers turning the square away for some toothpaste and a glass of water. But neither of those are going to magically cure the wound marking his side. So he opens his mouth, his jaw, and let's Jason drop the square onto his tongue. Warm fingers brush his lips as they pull back and he wants to chase the lightning-blue zing that they leave behind against his sarcastic mouth.

Instead he snaps himself shut and chews slowly. Only half interested in the cookies, then brownies, then soda— which he somehow knows is blue— disappears down his throat. He feels the magic working through his veins, skin stitching itself together. A headache he didn't know he had disappates.

With a long exhale he relaxes back against cotton cushions and finally takes a good look around the room. He has every detail of it already memorised, having spent many a day and night in this position bothering his friend endlessly. There's the singular shelf that houses old trinkets tattered and bruised from years of moving; the single arrow from Thalia's set— given in protection and as a reminder that she would always be there, for real this time; there's the gaudy new York taxi keyring he had given the blonde, now without the ring part, so of no real use; and the snow globe from Piper when she visited Paris. The soft yellow wall— lemon drizzle if you want to get specific— sits in perfect contrast to the charcoal grey of the rest of the room. It sort of embodies Jason's whole presence. The desk, well used and scattered with books and paper and Chinese takeout containers, sits in the corner opposite the bedroom, right near the window. He says if he can see the city he can breathe a little easier. He knows what he's working towards. Percy thinks it's so he can see the sky and know there's always a way to escape.

Him and Jason are good at that. Escaping. From bad situations, from big feelings, from each other. There's always something left unsaid between them. It drives their friends mad, but it's all they can do to stop from becoming hurricanes and devouring the entire universe.

"How are you feeling?" The blonde is sitting in his swivelly squeaky desk chair, leaning over him with all sense of care and concern. It makes him feel like duck egg blue.

"Much better thank you." He attempts a grin. He hopes it's not a grimace. "No matter how many times I get stabbed it doesn't seem to hrut any less."

Jason narrows his eyes, "I wonder why."

See that's what Percy likes. Everyone else is always giving him disapproving looks and worried scoldings when he says things like that but Jason? Jason indulges him, makes it feel not so suffocating to always be injured and bruised and relying on little squares of God-food to get him through the month.

"How do I look?" This time it's definitely a grin. He can feel the green of his eyes go emerald with amusement.

"Very pretty as always." The reply is solemn, but there's a twitch of pink lips and it's all he can do to not reach over and touch it.

"Want to tell me what happened?" A frown replaces the amusement and he wants to rewind the last few seconds again and again. "You were a little...out of it when you showed up."

"Yes I suppose getting attacked by a monster makes all the smart chemicals in my brain go a little foamy."

"You don't know what attacked you?"

And he is pinned to the bed, to the room, to the world. Because nobody can read the words behind his words the way Jason can. Can read the emotion behind his pauses and the expressions behind his masks. He is neon purple.

"It was dark." He resigns himself to the story. When he's done, laid all the boring details bare, he studies the floors.

The silence stretches around them, cocooning them into something too delicate to touch. It feels almost awkward, or it would if he knew anything about that when he was here. Instead it's just quiet.

"Can you stand? You need a shower."

"Oof Jase," He puts a hand to his chest, hurt painted like clown's make up falling across his face. "I can't look that bad."

There's a precious smirk, full of quick whips kicking up in his friend. "It's the way you smell actually."

He takes an exaggerated whiff and nearly gags. "I smell like I'm decaying." He shudders.

A laugh bursts from the blonde and Percy doesn't want to move in case the music ends. He feels candy floss pink in that moment.

"Right up you get. I'll sort out breakfast and then you can entertain me for the day."

"You don't have to take care of me." He rolls his eyes, sitting up with a hidden wince. His feet settle on the floor. He's grateful neither of them acknowledge that he came here in a haze. That Jason did take care of him. That when his mind was nothing but blinding pain this was the first place his legs took him.

"I'm not taking care of you. I'm using you for entertainment."

What his friend doesn't realise is that Percy can read all his hidden scripture just as well. How "entertain me" means I'm keeping an eye on you. How "mind helping me with this" means I can do it just fine by myself but I want company. How winks mean "it's a joke between us" but smirks mean "it's honesty but gently". It warms his heart to know he can do this. It's a sunshine yellow thing to know someone the way they know each other.

"You good?" Jason stops at the door when he still hasn't moved from the bed.

"Yes just preparing to haul my very large body into your very small shower." He feels the eye roll more than see it. It tugs a smile onto his face.

"I'll remind you that I'm an even larger body and I make it work."

"How on earth do you ever have shower—"

"Percy Jackson!" He is snapped into a laugh.

And then he's in the bathroom and his mouth is full of mint bubbles and although there are circles as deep purple as squished plums under his eyes they shine with contentness. He doesn't fear or worry. Not here. At home, in his mother's house, he's the protector from monsters only he can decimate. At camp he is the protector from monsters that are determined to destroy. But here. He is just Percy. And his protector is cooking pancakes in the kitchen. He is just Percy. And he is sage green as he steps into the steam of the shower.

He looks down, catching the fading wound on his abdomen. His brown skin let's droplets of water rest briefly before rippling and they go racing down to the tiled floor. He stands there for a good minute just staring blankly. But then he hears the sound of a kettle whistling and it jolts him into action as he scrubs the grime and gross of yet another something trying to kill him, off his body.

By the time he's done— sweats and a loose tee rummaged from Jason's closet draping over his too hot skin— the pancakes are neatly stacked on two plates and fresh steaming coffee sits to the right of their food. He feels honey brown.

"Looks delicious."

"I know the way to your heart." The blonde shrugs.

"It's more of a journey than most bargain for." He laughs quietly.

"Dont worry I've brought my hacksaw and my hiking boots I'm willing to run through Amazonian forests."

"Well that's relieving," He grins around his mug. "I was beginning to think I'd be stranded in my stone tower forever."

"All alone?"

He snorts, "No I've made friends with all manner of being. I can't be alone, you know that." He bites into his pancake, blueberry slipping off his fork with a thudding splash into the syrup.

"I do know." The blonde's voice is all buttery and melting. And the truth that comes with it knocks a new vein into Percy's heart.

They're quiet for a few minutes as they devour their breakfast. When there's mere sips of coffee left he settles back in his chair and regards his friend.

"What manner of entertainment am I providing today?"

"Whatever you want but I'm not leaving the house."

"Oh good I don't know if I can make it ten steps out your door without half crumbling to dust these days."

"You wouldn't."

"Mhmm," He hums distractedly, gaging the weather to decide if they're going to huddle up with movies and far too many blankets or throw playing cards at each other while drowning in lemonade. It's a movie sort of day, he decides.

"You wouldn't turn to dust." Jason is saying. "You're too much god and too much good to die like monsters." There is that silent reading again.

"Maybe I was." Percy shrugs, "Before you know..."

And he doesn't need to add anymore because the big space the catches onto that sentence no matter how much time separates those events from the now still means the same thing. Before Tartarus. Before he made a ventriloquist puppet out of a goddess. Before he became unhinged.

"You are not a monster for protecting yourself. Or others." Golden voice is firm. Solid.

"You may be the only one who knows and thinks that."

"Doesn't matter it's still true."

"Okay enough seriousness." He doesn't have the energy for their circling conversation. "Shall we binge Pirates of the Caribbean?" For a stormy grey second he thinks his friend is going to keep their talk going but then he sees the surrender behind the blue eyes and a part of him unwinds.

"We can." There's a raised eyebrow accompanying the agreement and he knows there's conditions attached. Like a damn insurance plan. "If your promise to let me walk you home this evening."

"My big bad wolf." He teases.

The blonde responds with a low growl that makes his whole body turn a violent azure blue. "Fine. We shall stare at Captain Jack Sparrow and then you can valiantly walk me to my front door and shake hands with my mother."

"Wonderful. Now let's get some blankets down."

Jason smiles as he stretches on his tiptoes to reach the fluffy ones. He feels the soft material under his palm but the there's a hand over his brown one and it's tugging the blanket down. He sticks his tongue out at his friend.

Percy is ocean blue.

#Dumbass got stabbed #Part 3 #PJJG fanfic #PJJG series #Percy jackson #Jason grace #Jercy