#this certainly boggles the mind

[acrossthewavesoftime]

Today I, utterly perchance, learned that a friend and I share a bit of history.

Back in the 1630s, members of our respective families took opposing sides in the 30 Years' War and due to some wartime coincidences, my relative, let's call him "Great-Uncle B", a clergyman of some local power and import, felt threatened by the approaching army in which "Friend's Great-Uncle G" was a prominent-ish military commander, and fled to a place of safety.

The funny thing is, I don't believe my friend is aware of any of this, nor are our families geographically from the same region, so this very likely is the only time they (almost) crossed paths before said friend and I were introduced to each other almost 390 years later at a party.

#it's also strange knowing that we both can trace our families far enough back in time to make that connction #why did i only find out about that now #r rambles #coincidence #this certainly boggles the mind #history #17th century

[yfere]

Going to obsess over Husk and Alastor for a second

ok. ok. OK. so. more on why alastor and husk's dynamic makes my head spin. is because, on paper, I have. NO idea,,, how they work??? they have the absolute most clashing personalities I have ever seen, and yet alastor chose husk and continues to choose him as a confidant and a co-conspirator and workhorse, even though he has much more obviously like-minded people around him in Rosie, Mimzy, and Niffty. And Husk -- I'm a little more forgiving on Husk's end because a) he has zero choice in his involvement here and b) he's kind of a bleeding heart himself, so I can kind of understand the moments where he looks out for Alastor or shows care outside of the bounds of his contract. But still. I look at them, and I'm just... why????? I'm so intrigued by it.

Because.... listen. What I understand about Husk is this. That he's a very compassionate person at heart, and cares about other people, even though he tries desperately not to. Hell, from the way he acts he seems like more of a true believer in Charlie's ideas for redemption than even Vaggie at times. He has a high degree of empathy and can easily see through people's bullshit (probably part of what makes him a terror at cards). I think at core he's a very sincere person, and this is part of why it is absolutely not in his nature to sugarcoat things, or refrain from speaking his mind. Husk is also a person who demands two things from the people around him - one is to treat him and his boundaries with respect, and this is why he snaps so much at Angel to begin with, and also what made him so furious with Alastor in episode 5. The second thing that Husk demands is honesty and vulnerability from the people around him, and he's openly disdainful of "fake" people. He tells Angel outright that he would treat him better if he were "real" -- his respect and affection for Angel was contingent to an extent on Angel being willing to drop his mask.

So you take this person, and stick him with Alastor, the fakest of fake motherfuckers in Hell, who can't stand the concept of being vulnerable and whose basic operating philosophy is "wear a mask smile so that you can hide your true feelings and always seem in control." Alastor, a person who is so desperately hungry for respect and power that he goes ballistic over what he sees as disrespect (even if it's just plain honesty), who pathologically needs the upper hand, who is casually and constantly disrespectful, who showboats relentlessly, who spits out one liners and strikes a pose even when he's a hair's breadth from death and fleeing the scene. THIS guy.

...who hand selected as one of his closest companions a person whose philosophy and personality is diametrically opposed to his own. I think... that says something about alastor, though it's hard to say what exactly that is, yet. maybe he likes watching husk "I lost the ability to love years ago sike I'm falling in love again" care and then suffer for caring and start the cycle all over again, similarly to how he said that he wanted to watch charlie try her hardest with the hotel and fail. on the other hand, as much as Alastor tries to stay aloof from the hotel's residents (not him looking over them all from a proverbial theater box in episode 8 as they prepare to face execution day), I don't think he's lying about his affection for them. maybe there's a small part of him that's looking to be surprised, or even proven wrong. maybe he thinks he'll be happy either way, and that's part of why he doesn't act the saboteur. or maybe there's even another element to it... alastor doesn't only court respect and fear, he courts adoration, and deliberately looks for and soaks up the affection thrown his way by charlie and the rest. maybe alastor is attracted to people who can't help but genuinely care for him, even against their better judgment.

#and I guess husk DOES like magic and showboating so maybe alastor has what... one good point in his favor? the mind boggles #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #alastor #husk #I think maybe alastor and husk's relationship is like a microcosm of alastor's relationship to the hotel at large #certainly husk seems more closely aligned with the hotel itself than with alastor #ahem. anyway

[prettyboykatsuki]

i have many many many critiques about wylls story, most of them being about the fact it's just so lackluster in game when compared to other companions which is a shame. because wyll to me is and has the potential to be an even more emotionally compelling companion. and he was early access!! he was so gritty in ea please bring him back larian i beg of thee. the way he was rewritten has stripped him of so much nuance and depth. wyll to me is such a wonderful character to me because of what he represents, which is heroism so down to his core he never gives up on it even when he ought to

his goodwill and nobility are ceaseless. at the center of his story is betrayal trauma, his agency over himself vanished into thin air. mizora turns him into a monster and there is no turning back. he has become the thing he's despised, the things he's hunted for his entire life. and we know so little about that canonically because of the way his story is set up but its hinted time and time again that he struggles with his reality deeply and even that cannot make him turn away from the city he loves so much.

if larian would go back to clean up and fix his story (which im truly praying to god they do) i want them to touch on what wyll must be going through as he continues to try to ground himself and deal with his newfound reality. i want them to touch on the abandonment he experiences because of his father and the inevitable burden his title as blade and hero has on him. because these things obviously compel him, they're hinted at all the time but they were completely stripped of him in final release and its fucking disheartening... larian please im begging you. thats the love of my life. please.

but for now i will do it with fanfiction and gather enough wyll fans to make a fuss about it . peace and love

#aristotle.txt #wyll ravengard #bg3 #i love wyll so desperately. which makes sense as a deku lover certainly. #but i love him even more because his story is narratively interesting #here is a classically heroic noble making a devils pact to save his city #who is only rewarded for doing this by being banished from the city hes sworn to protect. by his father no less. #he spends seven years away from home and makes a name for himself as a fucking folk hero #he never returns. he doesn't explain himself. he decides that the least he can do is give his life to the sword coast #and then wyll meets karlach. a devil hes supposed to kill except shes not #and because wyll is wyll and because what matters to him most are his beliefs he is easily convinced to not kill karlach. he doesnt want to #kill karlach. so he doesn't. and he pays the price for it. his entire existence is uprooted and he is turned permanently into a partial #devil #hes become his own prey. he spends the game clearly sorrowful in the mourning process. and the game just refuses to touch on this set up #as a WRITER it boggles my mind why wyll does not get that attention from larian because the concept of a hero balancing the weight of his #own pain and sorrow against his beliefs is moving. being able to open up that path with tav narratively that allows wyll to be #selfish and heartbroken. to not be blade or sword. just wyll. what a beautifully interesting storyline would that have made #i have delusion in my heart. i hope they fix it. i want them to fix it so badly because i fucking adore wyll in every way. #and i want the game to represent who he is as much as i feel for him. he is an origin companion and deserves it. #bg3 spoilers

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

This makes me incredibly angry.

[ID: Screenshots of a Facebook post from user Advocatus Peregrini, which reads:

I was conversing with a fully-grown adult a few days ago, born and educated in the USA, who let this little gem drop:

"Well, it's like Shakespeare said, "Love conquers all!""

I pointed out that Shakespeare never said that, Virgil did, (Eclogues X) and Chaucer after him (Canterbury Tales.)

She said, "Oh I'm sure Shakespeare said that. In Romeo and Juliet!"

I sighed. I've been in that play several times, in different roles, and even directed it. That text does not occur in it.

But the real grind-my-teeth moment here was that if Romeo and Juliet can be said to have a message, it is most certainly not "Love conquers all," seeing as the lovers die by their own hands with a trail of their friends and relations' corpses in their wake.

Neither this fact, nor the fact that I knew the play, nor my explanation that Virgil and Chaucer used the phrase long before Shakespeare's birth dented her determination that "Love conquers all" came from Shakespeare.

"You don't know ALL the versions!" she protested.

All the versions?

Alternative Bard?

With every instinct screaming at me to let the matter drop, warning me that some horror that will not soon be absent from my nightmares waited around the next corner of this conversation. I pressed on.

It was a decision I was soon to regret.

I asked when she had first read "Romeo and Juliet." She said she had only read it once, when she was in Junior High. In the version she was taught, Romeo and Juliet survive, are reconciled with their parents, and are married in the church with their friends Mercutio and Tybalt arm in arm in the wedding party.

"Help me into some house, Benvolio, or I shall faint."

It turned out that her school had their own "version" of Romeo and Juliet, with an "uplifting" ending. This was printed and distributed by a religious education publisher. And it was the only version of the story that she had ever read. Of course she had HEARD other people say that the story was a tragedy, but she just assumed they were wrong.

And she did not see why MY version of Shakespeare should be considered better than HER Shakespeare, which, after all, had a much more wholesome ending.

I explained, in vain, that "my" version is definitive because Shakespeare actually wrote it (quiet, you Oxfordians. Don't make me stop this car) and the message of the play - that when adult stubbornness meets youthful impulsiveness tragedy ensues - is lost in the ersatz, happy-clappy ending.

She said the ending that had been Frankensteined onto Shakespeare's play by the "Christian Education" publisher was better than the original ending, "if the ending is as sad as you say it is."

At this point, I concluded that this was a person who deserved to go through the rest of her life "...safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive!" I bid her adieu.

After the conversation, I wondered, darkly, if that was to be the fate of Shakespeare, and all other literature if the happy-clappy people get their way - as harmless and "uplifiting" as a cheerleader's chant.

I wondered what these bowdlerizers would do with "Hamlet?" or worse, "Titus Andronicus" or "MacB-" Nothing wholesome, I'm sure. Oh, that's right, what they can't appropriate, they ban. Or burn.

In trying to protect children, we leave them undefended from "...the slings and arrows" that life will no doubt throw their way. Shakespeare raises the issues of tragedy - the fatal flaw, the last turning, the role of fate, as well or better than any author before or since. He is a gentle tutor, much to be preferred over that stern and dangerous teacher, Experientia Inopinatum.

But, as ever, it really isn't about the children. It's about the adults, and their desire to avoid answering difficult questions from agile young minds, who know no fear and swarm like eager flies around questions that have been boggling our best minds for millenia. To answer the questions that literature raises, you have to have thought deeply about them yourself. And that is something that few dare to do.]  end id

#social issues #censorship #shakespeare #william shakespeare #schools #education

[levendigespreeuw]

I find myself with just as many random sporadic bursts of energy as a human as when I am afflicted which is... Not what I was expecting to glean from this.

#ic #It is mind boggling how quiet things are. #How I. Certainly needed glasses before I was turned. Good Lord it's been rough

[faeriekit]

Snowdrift Sanctuary

a phic phight fill for sapphireshield (who isn't on tumblr)

“Is this alright?” Phantom asked quietly, blunt human face pressed into the ruff of his new coat.

There was nothing wrong, but that wasn’t the issue; the human needed reassurance, and reassurance Frostbite could provide.

“Of course,” Frostbite agreed easily, if gently. “Neuschnee made it for you. It was always intended to be yours.”

Humans tended to be sensory-seeking. With no fur of their own, and sensitive skin and hands, they had the ability to physically feel more through touch than his people could. The paw of Frostbite’s remaining arm was tough, callused from work and combat; but the human could swab his face across the ruff and sleeves of his coat and receive textural information that was entirely alien to the yeti mind.

Frostbite would have to ensure that the boy had gloves. It would be a shame if his hypersensitive hands were made damaged by the cold.

“...But,” the boy tried, and to his credit, his concern was sympathetic. “Wouldn’t someone else need the fur? Like, even if you have your own fur…wouldn’ it make a good blanket? Or…something…?”

Petting, for humans, thankfully, seemed to work exactly as it did for his kin. Sure, Frostbite had to be more gentle with his claws, but combing through and smoothing down the human’s black spot of hair was more than enough for the endorphins to kick in. Oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin would require further study, but the base understanding of hormones were easy to understand: skin on skin contact equalled a well-adjusted human adolescent.

Phantom’s eyes drooped. Frostbite smiled to himself. The sight was identical to Salju’s cubs settling down before a nap.

“We are not low on resources,” Frostbite soothed, half-purring. It was an immature noise, but conducive to soothing distressed young. “We are not hungry. We are prosperous, and require little; as an adept living with our people, we would be remiss not to provide for you.”

…The human’s nose crinkled.

“It is our job to give you things so that you do not fade,” Frostbite clarified.

Phantom’s face flushed a warm red. The adolescent’s half-human biology was fascinating.

And, true, it would probably be easier to care for Phantom if he remained in his ghostly form all the time, but it would be unfair and dangerous for his long-term development to force him to do so. Phantom was a half-human, and deserved to spend time adjusting to all of his forms. Neuschnee had already begun working on the human’s boots; soon he would no longer be confined only to Frostbite’s warmed residence. With a thick hood and gloves to cover his extremities, Frostbite had little doubt that the human would soon be wrestling with (gentle) age-mates, practicing his English with his sister’s pilfered human texts, and learning how to control his snow.

Phantom was very small. He was very delicate, and there was an instinct in Frostbite that continued to worry that handling him wrong might snap the human in half. A yeti at Phantom’s height would still be a very young cub, and yet twice as sturdy and twice as broad.

Still, he was a bright, kind being, and… Frostbite sighed. And he had no understanding of why the human’s parents had rejected him for his current state.

And, certainly, his human sister had tried to explain it to him, bundled in three coats and her red nose weeping in the cold as she begged for his sanctuary. The prospect was merely mind-boggling to him. Young were rare and precious. Their natures were never guaranteed. What was the use of rejecting a cub you had spent a decade raising?

…Frostbite exhaled carefully out his nose. It was not his job to understand their attitude. It was only his role to act in their place until the half-human came of age.

“You don’t have to,” Phantom muttered, face a curious shade of red. Having red internal fluids made for interesting displays of emotion. “I…I can work it off, or…”

Frostbite continued petting the human. The human did not continue speaking.

“Or,” Frostbite continued kindly, “You may join Pritla, Nieve and I, and assist us in devouring a nice, cold, glacier shark. We buried it last season, so it is no longer toxic to digest outright.”

Phantom snorted out a laugh. Yes, there would be human-appropriate food available for him, but Frostbite was not joking about the shark. Now that the toxins had drained into the soil for months, he was happy to take his turn ripping huge chunks of flesh with his teeth for an evening meal. And, who knows; perhaps the enrichment value of consuming a fermented shark with one's bare hand would pique Phantom’s interest in other traditional foods?

“Will there be silverware?” Phantom asked, teasing. He accepted Frostbite’s proffered hug, engaging in sensory-seeking activity in the same way he had with his new coat. Frostbite was ecstatic.

“Of course not,” Frostbite rumbled, more than pleased. “Use of weaponry during mealtimes is explicitly cheating. Now, are you comfortable defending your plate from younger cubs, or should I shield you with my body?”

Frostbite might not have felt prepared to care for Phantom, but raising a half-human would undoubtedly be a fascinating experience.

Besides; unlike mortal parents, the burden of keeping Phantom alive was already largely moot.

#y'all have no idea how much I wanna eat the fermented shark (real thing you can eat) #danny phantom #YES the timeline is weird but I didn't want to have him call Danny a title the whole time #this is a WHOLESOME FOSTER PARENT MOMENT OKAY #every yeti: ah. I am an uncle/auntie/elder now. acceptable #Phic phight 2024 #phic phight #frostbite #Danny Fenton #faer fic #all the yetis are named after different words for snow because I am SO creative

[acewoo]

Jjk men Bf head-cannons

Note: pure fluff, Sfw Characters included: Gojo, Geto, and sukuna

Satoru Gojo

Gojo will send you tonssss of voice messages talking about literally anything. He’ll be on his couch laying down and he’ll send you a voice message about how the show he’s watching is so boring. “The female lead doesn’t even have any personality and is just there to make the male lead look good!” You’ll complain to him sometimes that he send too many of these voice messages but, he responds that it couldn’t be true because, you love the sound of his voice. (And to be fair you do listen to every one he sends.)

Gojo cannot cook for the life of him. Anytime you try to teach him something wrong will always happen. For example you tired showing him how to make spaghetti and meatballs which is simple enough, right? Wrong. Because Gojo, not only ended up burning the pasta (somehow which still boggles your mind to this day) but, the meatballs weren’t exactly balls… They were certainly meat, and they tasted like meatballs but… they were only shaped to say the least.

Gojo definitely spoils you. And anytime you try to tell him he's doing too much he’ll come up with an excuse for why buying you a 180.00 skirt was necessary. “Well I had to get it, it was the last one and it’d work perfectly for that Christmas party we're attending!” To clarify he was talking about, the Christmas party that was three months away. Of course in all fairness you wouldn't complain too much… It would look pretty nice on you.

Suguru Geto

Even the smallest gestures he does for you are full of thought. Whenever you're having a long day at work you'll usually text Geto about your frustrations. He's trying to be supportive as you rant and help you calm down. When you get home you’ll be welcome to a newly cleaned apartment and Geto in the kitchen finishing up making your favorite meal for dinner. When he sees your home he’ll immediately start talking to you “I’ll finish up here soon, how are you feeling?” The rest of night would end up being him taking care of you fully making you forget about work entirely.

This mf definitely remembers the small things within your relationship and he’ll remember things about you no one else will. For instance you disliked when people surprised you from behind. It wasn’t anything that majorly bugged you but, it made you feel uncomfortable. (Especially since you weren’t a huge fan of being touched) When Geto found this out when we you guys were out in public or hanging with a group of friends he’d always stay slightly behind you. When you questioned why he did this, he said it was so he could make sure no one will surprise you like that. Even though you insisted he didn’t have to he still did which you couldn’t help but love him even more for.

Sukuna

He’s possessive, like really possessive. (He swears he’s not though). Anytime your in public around people or not he’ll make it clear your his. Whether that’s an arm around your waist or being very intimate with you even if it’s not the most appropriate… Whenever it’s at places such as a club it’ll be even worse, not only will be touchy but his whole mind and body will be focused on you. (Even if he doesn’t realize it..) And that’s the thing he doesn’t realize he’s like that infact anytime you bring it up to him he swears you’re just overthinking things. Because, him, Sukuna being possessive over another person? Fucking ridicules. Totally not in denial.

One thing you wouldn’t expect from Sukuna would be him to be rather supportive of you and your decisions. Of course it wasn’t exactly the most traditional way people are supportive. But hey, it’s Sukuna nothing about him is ‘normal’. Sukuna is supportive in the way where you’ll feel insecure about wearing and he’ll give you a confused look. “Why the hell would yah not wear it?” Flushed you respond. “It makes me look bad like-“ “I don’t know what you’re on about I like how it looks on you so you’re wearing it.” And of course you weren’t going to argue with your bf so, you wear it. Throughout the day He’ll make comments about how good you look which make you blush. Of course it isn’t exactly the lovely dovey kind of comments but still.

#jjk #acewoo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu satoru #drabble #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk suguru #jjk geto #jjk sukuna #jjk fluff #gojo x female reader #gojo x gender neutral reader #gojo x male reader #sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto fluff #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #gojo satoru x reader

[izels-writing]

s. black — how you get the girl [1/2]

*idea was given to me by @sunny-prongs !! <3

Pairing: sirius black x fem!reader

Summary: sirius has no idea how to get the girl this time.

Warnings: i actually suck at writing flirting, slightly ooc sirius?, i accidentally keep making all these gryffindor!readers so i apologize,

PART ONE, PART TWO (coming soon!)

you weren't quite sure someone had made you feel so many emotions at once the way sirius black did. even when he'd enter the room, the ínstense emotions you'd experience being in his general vicinity was absolutely mind-boggling. not that you'd ever admit it.

sirius black was the one boy at school that everyone wanted, even if they didn't admit it. he was funny, he was unbelievably handsome, and he was admittedly smarter than he gave himself credit for. and dear god, did he know it...

the boy didn't exactly lack confidence—matter of fact, he may have too much of it. but that didn't matter, because everyone believed that yes, he deserved that confidence in himself. he earned it. he could breathe in someone's direction and they're instantly melt—he was inconceivably charismatic and likeable. even the professors admitted it so.

yet, the only person who didn't seem to think so was you.

not because you desired to be different from everyone else—because, unfortunately, you found him handsome as well and you found yourself day dreaming what it would be like to be loved by him. but because you saw the way he treated the girls he had flings with. you saw the way he'd be so indifferent to their attachment and infatuation with him. more noticeably, you noticed the way he never bothered to keep a consistent relationship with any girl he managed to seduce—if that was even the right word for it.

you didn't want that. you had seen so much of it growing up. you couldn't bare it in a potential romantic partner. so, you didn't. you didn't allow him to see the way you found yourself glancing at him, you didn't allow him to see the way you'd quickly walk away when he did something gentlemanly like hold the door for you, and you certainly didn't let yourself react to his many compliments.

and unfortunately for you, though you didn't know it, you were the one person he wanted that he couldn't have. not for lack of trying, but because you wouldn't allow yourself.

he watched you from afar, mischievous grey eyes following your every move—in a curious, desirable way. nonetheless, you looked at him for a split second before turning to resume your conversation with daniel mckinnon, marlene's older brother.

"anyway, you should talk to her, i'm sure she'll understand," you told daniel. he chuckled and sighed.

"i suppose so, thanks y/n," daniel smiled. he went to say something else, but he glanced behind you and bid you a kind goodbye—all before walking off.

you were left confused, until you felt a presence by your ear, likely because of the loud music booming around you. it was difficult to hear in the common room which held a celebration for the gryffindor quidditch team.

"he's always been good at taking hints," a silky voice whispered in your ear. immediately recognizing it, you turned around and raised an eyebrow at the eldest black brother.

"yeah, he is—something you lack apparently," you replied, glaring at sirius challengingly.

sirius grinned. "oh come on, princess, you can't be that way with me. you look great, by the way, is that a new dress?"

you glanced down, smiling slightly at the fact that he noticed. then you came to your senses and rolled your eyes, "i bought it last week, thanks," you replied monotonously.

"of course, doll," he smiled. you rolled your eyes, but he never faltered. you supposed there was an admirable aspect to it.

you took a sip of your drink, before looking up at him. "what do you want, black?" you demanded.

sirius laughed. "what makes you think i want something? what if i just wanted to ask how you were doing?"

"but you don't," you corrected. "which raises the question, as per usual..."

"fine, how about you let me dance with you...and if things go well, let me take you on a date next weekend?" sirius suggested, brushing loose hair from your face behind your ear.

you had to admit to yourself, he made you incredibly nervous. he was suave and handsome, and just the perfect amount of flirty without being uncomfortable to be around. he had a thing with calling you pet names that normally you'd cringe at the mention of, but when he said it, they didn't sound so bad. and dear god, when he subtly touched you, you felt like melting into the ground. nonetheless, you knew this was just part of his strategy to sleep with you. you'd seen it with other girls he interacted it, perhaps not to the extent he did it with you, but he certainly did it. you had to keep reeling in your common sense.

"in your dreams, sirius," you scoffed. quickly, before the other part of you could take it back, you walked off and immersed yourself into the party.

sirius watched you walk away, smirking like he had actually gotten you to say yes.

——

you waited patiently for your friend marlene mckinnon to return from quidditch practice before heading up to your shared dorm. normally, you preferred to be in your own room and on your own bed—but marlene hated being alone in the common room, as she was easily scared despite the tough facade she put on in front of dorcas.

a quick patter of footsteps rushed over to you, before they finally sat beside you. the boy, who you quickly and unfortunately recognized, kicked his feet up on the coffee table and put an arm on the couch, so that it was almost around you. you sat back and turned to him, narrowing your eyes at him. sirius grinned happily at you.

“you’re like a lovesick puppy, you know that?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. you knew it was all an act, but you could help the feeling of happiness it gave you knowing that he only really showed you this type of attention.

“only you bring out this side of me, did you know that?” he attempted, but you rolled your eyes and looked away momentarily. unfortunately for you, you turned to look at him again and your (e/c) eyes met his grey ones. and dear god, they were easy to get lost in.

“where’s your boy band? usually you four are attached at the hip,” you asked, genuinely curious despite your nonchalant tone. he smiled at you before replying, counting off the three in his fingers.

“remus is doing his prefect duties, james has quidditch practice, and peter is on a date,” he replied. “leaving me, all on my lonesome…with you, of course,” his smile brightened the room and it seemed like he knew it.

“surely you have something interesting to do,” you commented, liking the fact that you could at the very least have a conversation with him.

“none as interesting as you,” he grinned.

you chuckled. “okay, that was smooth, i’ll give you that one,”

“what’re you doing down here anyway?” sirius then asked, looking curiously at the book in your lap. you closed it, finding that perhaps a genuine conversation with him was worth having even despite the flirtations.

“waiting for marls, she hates coming into an empty common room,” you replied. “creeps her out,”

he smiled. “you’re a good friend, you know that?”

you turned to him curtly, smiling back at him—genuinely smiling back him. “thank you,” you replied.

your faces were inches away from each other, if even, and you couldn’t help but feel the slight tension. you wanted to pull away, you really really did. at the very least, he hadn’t tried anything.

he brought a tattooed hand to your face, pushing a hair behind your ear. he almost leaned in—or maybe you were imagining it. but then, common sense kicked you in the head and you cleared your throat.

quickly, you stood up and gathered your things. every nonsensical part of you wanted to stay and see where it would lead, and the other logical part of you knew better than to be so naïve. sirius was only interested because you had been so difficult to get, after he got with you—you’d just be another girl to him. you and any other girl at this school did not deserve that.

“yeah, i can’t do this,” you mumbled. without another word, you rushed up to your dorm. in your wake, you left a confused, mildly hurt sirius black on the couch. he could still smell your perfume and your bright smile was burned into the back of his brain like a prayer.

and for a moment, he thought what it would be like if he actually got to kiss you.

——

“i don’t understand,” marlene mumbled, stroking your head as you laid on her lap. you were feeling very dejected and upset after the whole sirius situation. “if you like him, and he more than obviously seems to like you, what’s stopping you?”

you sat up, situating yourself to look at marlene with a dejected look. “the principle, marls! you’ve seen how he treats every other girl here, these are nice girls who he would be lucky to have as his girlfriend! how do we know he won’t treat me the same? how do we know he actually likes me the way i like him?”

marlene sighed. “yeah, you have a point—i just hate seeing you so conflicted and upset, boys are so dumb,” she shook her head. you laughed, nodding in agreement.

“what if i talk to james?” marlene suggested. “if there’s anyone who knows him better than himself, it’s james,”

you groaned. “but then he’ll know i have a crush on sirius! and then he’ll tell sirius, and then sirius’ll know i have a crush on him!”

“true,” marlene huffed. “straight relationships are impossible,”

you laughed, shoving marlene. “shut up,”

——

“pads, maybe you should actually sit down and tell her how you feel,” james said offhandedly as he tinkered with a music box that lily gave him to fix. the two had only been dating for a few months, if that, and already it seemed like they have been together forever—in a good way, of course.

sirius, who had dramatically sprawled himself on the bed, lifted his head up to look at james. “what?! are you crazy?!” he exclaimed.

remus scoffed. “what’s so crazy about that? james did it and now he and lily are great together,” he closed his book, looking at sirius and waiting for his response.

“because…those are real feelings! i mean i’d have to explain everything to her, how i feel around her, everything and i just…no, it’s too gross,” sirius sighed. “of course i like her, i’m in love with her actually! but i can’t just tell her!”

peter and remus exchanged a look before peter quipped up, “so you’re afraid of rejection and vulnerability and commitment?”

sirius looked up and glared at him. “what? nuh uh!”

“yuh huh,” peter replied.

“nuh uh!”

“yuh huh!”

“nuh uh!”

“yuh huh!”

“face it pads, you have issues with commitment, rejection, and being emotionally vulnerable,” james shrugged, continuing to tinker with the music box.

“james and peter are right, that’s why you’ve never had a girlfriend—well, that and you’ve been in love with y/n since our second year,” remus added, raising an eyebrow at sirius.

“shut up,” sirius grumbled.

“you’re going to have to get over that if you want to be with her, marlene’s told me why she won’t go out with you—and frankly i don’t blame y/n,” james said.

sirius scrambled up from his bed, practically jumping onto james’ to sit in front of him. “they talk about me? what did y/n say? what did she exactly say?”

james shook his head. “you’re going to have to figure it out for yourself, i won’t betray marlene’s trust,”

“prongs, please! you’re my only hope!” sirius exclaimed.

“no, marlene told me in confidence,” james replied. “ask her yourself,”

sirius grumbled. “fine…”

“you are the most dramatic person i’ve ever met,” remus chuckled, “and mary once cried over breaking her nail, granted it had taken her a long time to grow out—“

sirius glared at remus, making the werewolf quickly shut his mouth.

#sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #the marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #harry potter #sirius black x reader #sirius orion black #sirius being sirius #sirius black x you #sirius x reader

[aziraphale-is-a-cat]

sorry if you've covered this before but what do you think of the humans are space fae tag/ the idea of like, humans bringing their courts and complex law into alien spaces?

I think that the idea of humans bringing complex law into things is so funny because 100% other alien cultures would be confused by half of the social niceties and weirdly specific laws because duh, that's common sense who would do that? Until they learn there is a precedent for its existence. Like in Cali it's illegal to carry ice cream in your back pocket, which seems out of pocket until you learn the context- which is that cattle theives used to use it to lure cows out of pasture. Then it makes perfect sense Only Because someone did something so uniquely fucked up that their actions now warrant a law to stop copy cats.

Alien: why are you specifically not allowed to nuke the whole world and cause the apocalypse? Is that not common sense??

Human: oh you'd certainly fuckin think, wouldn't ya?!

But some constraints would be absolute nonsense. Like why the fuck DO we shake hands? And why is a firm grip so important when we do it?? Why are we so insulted when others misgender our pets?

And don't get me started on pop culture references! Aliens don't understand 'Beam me up, Scotty!", or "thicker than a snicker", and by God would the absurdist humor be so mind boggling to understand from an outside perspective!

Anyways I love humans are space fae, but I never had a solid enough idea of what exactly I found so fun when I was haso posting, thanks for the ask!

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #earth is space australia #humans are space australians #earth is a deathworld #humans are space fae

[ironskyfinder]

When I first met Jackalynn, she was very confused about her place in the world.

The silly little girl was going by Jaden, had cut all her beautiful hair off, was wearing a binder to hide her beautiful hourglass figure, and was outwardly militant about ‘becoming’ a ‘man’.

She messaged me - seemingly furious that I would run a blog that openly advocated for female disempowerment, misgendering, and ‘transphobia’, but I could tell there was something deeper going on, and before long, she said something that gave away far more than she’d wanted me to know.

jadensjourney [11:24PM] I just can’t believe that you would knowingly post such filth. It boggles the mind that anyone would think it’s okay in the slightest to make such a toxically degrading concept so arousing. And you defend it without the slightest thought?!

trad-dominant [11:25PM] I post it because it’s filth that people enjoy, and I defend it for that reason and because it’s my artistic right to do so.

trad-dominant [11:25PM] So it’s filth that you enjoy, too?

jadensjourney [11:26PM] Our definitions of the word ‘artist’ are very different

jadensjourney [11:27PM] No, no, NO. I didn’t say that, you psycho

jadensjourney [11:27PM] What is WRONG with you?!

trad-dominant [11:29PM] You said it “boggles the mind that anyone would think it’s okay in the slightest to make such a toxically degrading concept so arousing,” which certainly implies that you found it arousing.

jadensjourney [11:30PM] No!! 

jadensjourney [11:31PM] Okay, but, that wasn’t what I meant and you know it

jadensjourney [11:32PM] What I ACTUALLY MEANT was that you’re a degenerate for even trying to make such disgusting topics into erotica

trad-dominant [11:34PM] Maybe I am a degenerate, but at least I’m honest with myself about what I like. I could help you with that, if you’d lose the attitude and admit it.

jadensjourney [11:37PM] Fuck you.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had readers reach out to berate me, and it wouldn’t be the last. I thought that was the end of it, and went back to writing. I felt like I was making good progress, so I stayed up later than usual, until another chat notification interrupted me.

jadensjourney [1:17AM] I admit it

jadensjourney [1:19AM] now what?!

trad-dominant [1:21AM] What?

jadensjourney [1:23AM] I thought it was a little erotic. Your story. So what?

trad-dominant [1:25AM] So you’re starting to be honest with yourself, that’s all that means

jadensjourney [1:26AM] Shut up, fuck you

trad-dominant [1:27AM] You don’t need to be aggressive, you’re judging yourself for liking it far more than I am.

trad-dominant [1:29AM] So, which part of the Little Miss Thought-She-Was-A-Boy story turned you on most?

jadensjourney [1:33AM] no I’m not

jadensjourney [1:34AM] judging myself

jadensjourney [1:36AM] stop it

trad-dominant [1:37AM] It took you all that time for just seven words? You must be typing one-handed, were you reading the story again?

jadensjourney [1:41AM] yes 

jadensjourney [1:43AM] the part where he’s cockwarming ryan and they’re doing anatomy

jadensjourney [1:44AM] That’s the best part

trad-dominant [1:47AM] I have to point out that Sam is a girl, I know you and her both struggle with that

trad-dominant [1:48AM] But, I agree, that is a great scene. 

jadensjourney [1:50AM] fine

jadensjourney [1:51AM] the part where SHE’s cockwarming ryan.

jadensjourney [1:53AM] where’d you come up with the paintbrush thing?

trad-dominant [1:54AM] Personal experience. 

trad-dominant [1:54AM] Holding a girl down and slowly tracing through all her erogenous zones with a brush is something that never gets old.

jadensjourney [1:55AM] crazy

jadensjourney [1:56AM] It’s only a tease?

trad-dominant [1:57AM] It is, although you have to be careful brushing around her clit, just in case

jadensjourney [1:58AM] i liked that most

jadensjourney [1:58AM] i mean

trad-dominant [1:59AM] Is that the part you were imagining happening to you?

trad-dominant [2:01AM] Having a stranger who picked you up at a bar overpower you, tease you mercilessly, and correct your gender?

I didn’t hear from her more that night; I assume she’d gotten embarrassed and deleted the chat. Most of the interactions ended like that - a confused girl reached out full of anger, then admitted how hot it was, then vanished. It didn’t bother me, but I was surprised when the next day I found a message waiting when I logged in.

jadensjourney [6:52AM] hey so fuck you but that last messsage you sent made me cum harder than I ever have in my human life and i passed out. sorry

It actually made me laugh aloud, between the reckless honesty and the charming turn of phrase. Few people had enough creativity or enough of a way with words to arouse my attention, but there was still the lingering combativeness from our earlier interaction. I sent the reply and assumed I’d never hear back.

trad-dominant [7:26AM] Fine, I suppose we can let that slide. If you keep cumming to my stories, though, you owe me your deadname real name.

I didn’t hear anything from her that night, or the one after, or the next. I expected to see her icon vanish one day, blog deleted. It was only after I published the next story, this time about a lesbian ruining her gold stars, that another two messages came through.

jadensjourney [9:52PM] three times. I hate you.

jadensjourney [9:54PM] and it’s jackalynn. 

From then on, whenever I posted a new story, Jackalynn and I talked. It started with her telling me how many orgasms she’d had while reading, but then we started talking more with each story. Over the following months, she confided that she was liking my stories more and more, and I told her if she sent a selfie of her all femme’d out that I’d write one with her as a main character. The story of ‘Jessie’s Fall Back to Femininity’ took a few days to finish, but when I posted it I saw that it had vanished.

Then - 

jackalynnsjourneyback [10:56PM] it’s me new blog. 

jackalynnsjourneyback [10:56PM] spent the last three days reading and re-reading jessica’s fall. i can’t think about anything else

jackalynnsjourneyback [10:57PM] so when i tell people i’m officially detransitioning do i blame it all on you, or?

trad-dominant [11:02PM] What a pleasant surprise! I thought you’d gotten cold feet, I guess I couldn’t have been more wrong.

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:04PM] yeah you brainwashed me back into being a girl or something 

trad-dominant [11:06AM] We both know I only reminded you that your clit exists, it did the rest.

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:07PM] uh, i think you did a little more than that!

trad-dominant [11:08PM] Not really, all I had to do was help your clit show you who you really wanted to be.

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:11PM] thanks for saying that, now i’m soaked again.

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:11PM] but you’re right, of course

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:12PM] i just can’t believe how hot jessie’s fall was, especially when she got fully corrected at the end

trad-dominant [11:13PM] You’re welcome. I thought you’d like it ending with her cumming from being impregnated.

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:14PM] and her repeating ‘this...is…what..i’m…for” is going to stick in my head forever

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:16PM] so are you gonna make me beg, or

trad-dominant [11:17PM] Probably, on principle, but I don’t know what you mean.

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:19PM] do it all to me

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:19PM] treat me like the professor treats jessica. tattoos and all

trad-dominant [11:20PM] For that, you’re definitely going to have to beg.

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:22PM] fuck

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:22PM] please

trad-dominant [11:25PM] You told me that in the last three and a half weeks you’ve edged for hundreds of hours, a lot of it to pretty misogynistic porn. We both know you know how to beg.

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:29PM] i deserve to have my silly gender fantasies corrected by someone who is going to take every advantage of me, i know i’m just holes and tits. please use me, sir

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:29PM] pierce my nipples, tattoo a qr code over my clit because i’m just property, and decide what else you want done to my body. 

jackalynnsjourneyback [11:30PM] please make me your jessica. take me in, break me down, make it so i lose my mind when you breed me

trad-dominant [11:36PM] That is better. Hmm.

Three weeks later, Jackalynn stepped off the plane; we talked the whole way back, her mind was made up. She wanted nothing less than to be reeducated, corrected, improved.

She’s getting her wish. Sometimes she still gets confused, but she’ll come and talk to me and a few minutes of intense anatomy practice always sorts out her delusions. Edging afterwards is helping her feel a lot better, and this will be her tenth straight day plugged - between that and the daily maintenance spankings, she says she’s never felt more feminine.

Now all that’s left is to breed her, and she’ll be the perfect woman she never dreamed she’d be.

#based on a real conversation #detrans kink #ftm detrans kink #misgender kink #fakeboy #forced detrans #misgenderingkink #detransitionkink #ftm misgendering #ftmtf kink #ftmtf breeding #patriarchy kink #dykebreaking #daddy's good girl #fr33use #cvmdump #bitchmaker #corruption kink #sluttraining

[merakiui]

thinking about androids again, but rather than the plot seen in android jade,,,, consider android floyd who is being developed by tech genius idia shroud with input and funding from business magnate azul ashengrotto.

(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, vaguely implied non-con/dub-con, android floyd)

He's designed to be a companion for those who are lonely and in need of the company (whether physically or socially). You're just a tired, overworked university student, so it's mind-boggling to you when there's a sleek limousine parked just beyond campus property. Security guards are insisting you come with them because there's someone who'd like to meet you.

In the limo, you find yourself sitting across from Azul Ashengrotto himself. He doesn't bother with flowery introductions, instead cutting to the heart of the matter. You've been randomly selected to help with a very important phase of his and Idia's project. The general idea is to test how well the android interacts with a normal, ordinary person in a monitored setting.

You're very confused. You never signed up for any lottery, and you certainly aren't affiliated with anything of that sort. You're just trying to get through your degree, survive two part-times, and hopefully make enough to keep afloat for another month. Azul tells you this isn't an issue; you'll be generously compensated for your time and efforts. It's only three months; you'll be permitted to live your life as you normally would, only now you'll be accompanied by a highly intelligent android.

Despite hearing all of this, you hesitate when he reveals the lengthy contract. As you flip through it, analyzing each clause and category, Azul says something that piques your interest. "We don't expect you to house an android in your little apartment. Goodness, that's simply ludicrous. We'll provide your housing for these next three months. After all, we must be able to monitor your progress."

"Housing? What do you mean?"

He smiles at you. Backdropped by leather interior, the lights casting odd shadows on his face, he looks near-sinister. But he leans forward to press a ballpoint pen into your hands and the illusion vanishes. "I think you'll find it quite to your liking. If you've finished your classes for the day, why not visit the property with me? Then you may decide whether you wish to participate."

You're not worried about that part. What worries you the most, however, is the fact that he's right. You are finished with classes for the day and you have nothing planned. You took today off from work. Your schedule is perfectly free.

But of course the Azul Ashengrotto wouldn't know that, would he?

The house is a smart home, equipped with every necessity and appliance. Everything's controlled by a remote here. It's not very far from your university either, built on a hill that overlooks houses below. It feels a little isolating and smells very new and clean. Like that fabled new car smell, only it's a house. But everything is so unique to you. Its minimalistic design is oddly cozy, and you can't help but feel enchanted the deeper you venture through the two-story home. It's all so unreal!

Azul gives you the rundown, explains how the remote and each button works. You can lock doors, open and close windows, mess with the thermostat, turn the home security on and off, and even start the oven. You hold the power to this home in the palm of your hands. It's immensely fascinating.

By the end of the tour, you're shaking his hand and signing his contract, agreeing to three months of study. Not only are you provided this nice home, you'll also be paid per week. And the pay is far more than you were making with your two jobs.

The android has a long, tongue-tying serial number, so to make things easier he's named Floyd. They even gave him a surname in preparation for the twin android who is being designed to complement and mirror him. He certainly looks human when you meet him, but there's this uncanny nature to his presence that slightly unnerves you. He's too perfect. Skin too smooth. Eyes too bright. Hair too soft. He towers over you, having to bend down to walk through the doorframe, and every movement he makes is very mechanical and stiff.

Still, you smile at him and offer your hand. "Hi there. I'm (Name). Your...housemate, I guess."

He nods, peering down at your hand before lifting his own. "Floyd Leech. At your service."

You were expecting to feel coldness, so you startle when his hand fits into yours and it's warm. It feels so very real. So deceptively lifelike. You wonder if he can regulate his own internal temperatures. Just how advanced is he?

"Right... Um, I look forward to getting to know you!"

He nods again, releasing your hand after a perfectly timed handshake.

Azul had given you a special number should you need to reach him or Idia. All you needed to do was phone it if at any point you were to feel confused or unsafe. "But I don't think you'll utilize it," he told you when you stood in the lab, watching Idia Shroud flit around to do final maintenance checks to ensure Floyd was ready for his first trial run. His eyes were open the entire time, two mismatched lights centered on you. His stare was listless, but somehow you felt as if he was looking through to your very soul. "He's very safe. In fact, he's programmed to assess and react appropriately to dangers of all kinds. You'll be safe with him around."

And safe you are.

You've always been alone, so it's nice to have a roommate, even if he only speaks when spoken to. It's awkward for all of one week until you ease into his pattern. From various vantage points throughout the house, Idia and Azul watch through hidden cameras. You cook your meals for yourself and Floyd watches, assisting when you order him to. You leave for class and Floyd waits by the door for you to return, standing stock-still for hours.

You lounge in the sitting room and put on all kinds of films. Action. Comedy. Horror. Floyd's eyes never leave the screen. But sometimes he watches you more than he watches the movie, noting all of your reactions. He doesn't understand why you get so emotional over sappy romances. So you explain it simply: "It evokes emotions. We all have emotions, and these movies make us feel them. Happy. Sad. Angry. Upset. Things like that."

But Floyd doesn't feel. Even so, he listens and he nods along, filing your answers away for later dissection. It's interesting.

By the end of the first month, Floyd's adopted new habits. Ever since you told him he's free to do as he pleases, he's taken to cooking your meals for you, doing your laundry, preparing your bag for the day. He's surprisingly good at it. He does chores when you leave for classes or work. And for the first time in a while you're excited to return home, knowing he's there waiting.

Floyd adds new words and phrases to his ever-expanding vocabulary. You watch a lot of TV together and he starts to use some of what he hears in his own speech. He picks up informal language quickly, and it isn't long until he's using words like sup or dunno instead of the rigid how are you? and I am unsure he was previously programmed with.

The first sign of unrest comes when you realize Floyd's also connected to the smart home. At first you didn't think it was a bad thing. After all, with him controlling it you won't have to worry about getting up to grab the remote if you've already sat down. Floyd can do that for you. But then the remote goes missing, later turning up shattered. You ask Floyd what happened and he looks at you and says, "Why use this piece of junk when you've got me?"

"Still... What if you're not able to help? What if you're in sleep mode and I need to open a window or something?" you argue, cradling the splinters of remote like they're an injured baby bird.

"That won't happen," he replies smoothly, issuing you a soothing smile. "I'm always gonna be here for ya. Count on it."

And you do because, by the time the three months are nearing their end and Floyd's developed into quite the companion, more and more human than he's ever seemed, you find yourself stuck.

No, not stuck. That's not quite right. You're more so trapped.

Floyd locks the doors, shutters the windows, turns off the lights. You're cowering in the closet, the only place that feels just a little safe in this moment. You can't reach Azul or Idia either. He's shut the power off, the internet connection, everything. The smart home on the hilltop feels like a tiny island now, and Floyd's the shark always circling it, waiting for you to dip your feet into the depths.

"C'mon, Shrimpy," he calls out, and it's a nickname you were once so fond of because he thought of it himself. "I already told ya I ain't gonna hurt ya. So just come out and talk to me."

You have no idea where you went wrong. Was it too many horror films? Was it the fact that you started to rely so heavily on him for companionship, ignoring your human friends in favor of staying in with Floyd? Or was it because he was blocking their numbers that you never received any messages and automatically assumed they were cutting contact? He said he'd always be here for you, so why to this degree?

The closet doors are thrown open. Floyd drags you, kicking and screaming, out by the ankles. Every camera has gone dark on Azul and Idia's end. All but one. The one in the bedroom. Floyd stares directly at it when he lifts you up and lays you on the bed, gentle and sugary-sweet.

He smiles and waves before that screen blanks out, leaving you truly trapped with him.

And because it's all experimental, morbid curiosity trumping ethical morals, no one comes to rescue you.

Three months is more of an indefinite forever in this lonesome smart home.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst

[ghouljams]

does soap ever realise he wants to fuck hush? and does he do it?

There's this weird hesitation with Soap. Despite summoning a demon the man was raised in a religious household, and there's a little bit of internalized homophobia. Soap has these feelings about men, but he sort of assumes everyone has them. Of course he's looked in the showers, who hasn't? He just admires his LT, and the only times he's kissed a guy it was Gaz and he was drunk so that doesn't count. And now you've kissed him, and you offered him sex, and you were so casual with it that it's almost shocking. Shouldn't you be a little quieter? Keep your voice down about that stuff.

Soap's not homophobic, that's not the problem, he's fine with gay folks and all of that, but for him... for him... There's a certain way John Mactavish is supposed to be, and suddenly he's having trouble keeping that straight in his head. How are you so comfortable with yourself? How are you so comfortable with him?

How do you grab him and smile at him with such easy confidence? How do you slap his shoulder for attention and not freeze? How do you not think about that quick excited kiss every time you're with him? (At least not in any awkward way Soap can see) It boggles the mind. He obsesses over it. Not because it was bad or awkward, but because it was so exuberant and joyful, and good. Because even though his ears were ringing and his head was starting to spin the world had focused in on how warm your lips were against his.

It must have been a fluke, adrenaline making everything feel more. That doesn't explain why he keeps thinking about it. Soap doesn't know why he keeps thinking about it. He just knows that it's all he can think about. Every time you drape an arm around his shoulders, every time you knock your arm against his, every time you look at him in confusion when he re-buffs your attempts to cuddle.

Soap misses the weight of you laying on him, misses the way you'd purr when he scratched at your scalp, misses the warmth. He's not cold to you, but he doesn't know how he's supposed to...

God.

You hold an arm out across the small entryway to Soap's barrack, stopping him from leaving. You look cross, or maybe just more serious than you usually do. It makes him uneasy, he likes that you're usually in a good mood, that you can match his humor, match his energy. Now you look cross.

"Can't stand to see me go?" Soap grins, settling a hand on the corner of the hall. You cross your arms and lean against the wall, terrible habit for someone who supposedly was military.

"Love to watch you leave," You smile back, it pinches something in Soap's chest, "but not why I stopped you." You tip your head, eyes searching Soap's, he raises a brow, cocks his head to try and usher you to continue. You come to some sort of conclusion and sniff. "What's wrong?"

"A man cannae have a lick of privacy?" Soap tries to joke, but you raise your brows, waiting him out. "Nothing's wrong." He crosses his arms, uncrosses them, swings them back to parade rest.

"You're upset about somethin'." You don't press, but you certainly have a way of making it known you're referring to something specific, "What did I do?"

"Dinnae dae anythin'," Soap attempts to push past you, "We're fine." You catch him around the middle and Soap feels a rush of heat hit his cheeks at how solid a wall you are. You tip your head to speak closer to him.

"It's the sex thing, right?" You tell him low, it doesn't help the heat or the chill that runs down his spine, "We don't have to have sex, I'm eating fine."

"Good," Soap tells you quickly, shaking off your hold. "Dinnae want tae have sex with ya." He says it plainly, believably, but you make a hummed noise of disbelief. "Ah don't."

"You do." You say it like it's nothing. Soap switches tactics.

"You want tae fuck me, s'alright lots of people do," He tosses a wink your way, a crooked smile. You measure his smile with your own.

"I just don't want it to affect our work."

"It won't." Soap assures you.

It already is.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #oc: hush #m!reader #demon!darlings au #Soap kneeling in confessional: hope this doesn't awaken anything in me #Soap meeting hush #a hot demon: oh no it awakened the wrong thing...

[twst-drabbles]

Azul, Idia and Malleus 1

Summary: Azul and Idia are dragged for singing practice with Malleus. You too were dragged in, but not to sing. Malleus wanted you to be his audience and critic.

(I think it would be funny for the Janitor to just be in a chair, watching it all. I know the event is over, but it still lives in my head for whatever reason. Also this is over 1000 words, so have fun.)

While you're not going to the social that'll be happening in the Nobel Bell College, you are still a dear friend of Malleus. And because you have such privileges, you were allowed to be the judging audience for Malleus's singing practices.

"His initiative is mind-boggling… I didn't think Malleus would be so motivated." Azul said, clearly out of his element but refusing to show as such.

You leaned your head against your fist.

"You've never attended a fae party have you?" You picked at the lint on your uniform and flicked it towards the practicing pair. "This much enthusiasm is pretty common to see. And expected, actually."

Azul's smile twitched as he turned towards you, "Ah well, excuse my inexperience with not attending any fae parties. Running a business doesn't exactly allow me much free time. Though, I suppose quality standards would be different across species, wouldn't they? I just never expected them to be this high."

"That's what happens when you live for hundreds of years," you sighed, "the medium standard rises."

Malleus clapped his hands to gather everyone's attention.

"Now now, Ashengrotto," Malleus chided Azul, "Keep from looking at the Child of Man and start again. You must be sure to practice so that you can perform perfectly for them."

It's nice that you at least get a free show before they all go. Now if only you had snacks. It's been a while since you last ate.

Lilia, ever the perceptive one, floated over dropped an unopened bag of snacks right on your head. "Seeing a performance on an empty stomach is no way to enjoy it."

You grabbed it and nodded to him. "Nice, I like this brand."

Idia, having just the tiniest bit of respite, chewed on his nail and grumbled out, "I never expected our precision security system to get literally brute-forced. I gotta upgrade that ASAP, like tonight."

You chuckled, now in a better mood with a tasty snack on your tongue, "Idia, you're dealing with an enemy that scales to your level, it's never going to work."

Lilia laughed with you, "Exactly. You shouldn't underestimate our sheer tenacity. Especially when we're under strict orders."

Malleus had a hand to his mouth, smiling right down at Idia, clearly amused that Idia thought he could avoid all of this. "As such, I and this entire dorm are dedicating our time to craft this song into perfection. Your participation is crucial for that, I'm afraid."

Poor Idia. You're enjoying this too much.

"You can't escape," you muffled through your snacks.

Idia shrunk further into himself, but resigned to his practicing fate alongside Azul.

They started from the top and Malleus began singing that song you now know forwards and backwards. He kept diligent to his nightly visits over to your dorm, alongside of working in his hours of practice. It's difficult not to memorize it.

"He really is way too good at singing…" Azul and Idia murmured like you couldn't hear them at all.

"Yeah. Anything having to do with festivities and performances, they have it down pat. Did you know it's an insult to have a party last less than three days in fae etiquette?" You said while keeping a careful ear for any mistakes in Malleus's singing.

You really only said this just to get the thought out. You weren't expecting any sort of reply. And you certainly weren't expecting Azul and Idia to slowly turn towards you in dual horror.

Azul pushed up his glasses, "… while the social will last a while, the party itself will only last a day at the end… Could it be that Malleus does not know?"

And Idia is clutching at his hair. "Oh no, oh no, oh no…"

Wow they really just swallowed your words without question, huh?

"… obviously the rules are different if the host is a human, on their human owned land." You said with a lazy grin. The both of them are so easy to mess with.

Idia deflated into a defeated puddle on the floor while Azul perked right back up as though he too wasn't on the verge of a breakdown.

"Ah, well of course! If such rules applied the minute any guest is a faerie, we'd all be cursed in one manner or another."

Azul's ability to suddenly collect himself always amuses you. The sweat upon his brow hasn't even dried up yet. No wonder Malleus likes to put him on edge.

Malleus reached the end. He breathed in, out, then turned towards you. Azul and Idia flinched, being in his line of sight.

"Well? How was that?" Malleus asked.

And you gave your critic, "You might want to tone down the intensity in the first verse. Otherwise the climb to the finale won't hit as hard like that opera performance we saw on that video."

Of course you had to gather references regarding that song. You and your thirst for historical knowledge had you scaling down an interesting rabbit hole until you ended up stumbling upon an online archive filled with recorded performances. One of them simply wowed you and you had to show Malleus.

Malleus looked down, thoughtful. "I suppose you're right. Then, I'll make some adjustments as needed. I will reward you for the sound advice later, Child of Man. Let me try again. Lilia, if you will."

And another round he went, making sure to keep the full intensity of his voice under his control.

You couldn't help but sing along with him, under your breath of course. This was his practicing performance, not yours. You tapped to the rhythm, enjoying this early taste, living in the moment.

"Huh?" Azul and Idia both turned to you.

Your voice faded out before the end, as that verse is Malleus and Malleus's alone.

Idia, during that moment, scuttled up to your face like a bug. He grabbed your shirt by the collar. "You could sing?!" He hissed out.

"Uh, yeah?" It's a skill you had to practice with. The little pixies are all about songs and dances whenever they're helping you out with your work.

"So why don't you convince him. To let me go?!" Idia shook you back and forth. "Clearly this BBEG would love to sing with you over a loser like me! Do you want me to experience an IRL game over?!"

It… is amazing how weak Idia is. There is so little strength in those arms of his that you can't even be angry that he's wrinkling your shirt.

All you had to do was grab his face and push him down.

Idia did not stand a chance. He let go.

"Because I'm not invited, so I can't replace you. Besides, this is fun for me, watching you fumble like this." You grinned at this kneeling Idia. "When you've been around the pixies long enough, you just pick up their inner rhythm eventually. That, and singing keeps their energy high while I'm working."

"Well," Azul said, "That would explain why Malleus would want your critic over mine. How… frustrating."

Malleus didn't so much as spare a glance at Idia, only asked, "Shroud. What are you doing over there? It's time for you to practice the basics again."

"Ah!" Idia shot himself out of your grasp and zipped over to Lilia, "Coming!"

"If you'll excuse me, Janitor and Judge." Azul nodded to you, "I would want to make Malleus angry."

"Have fun." You waved them both off, settling in your plush chair once more until you were called for.

This is fun. You like this.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #octavinelle #azul #azul ashengrotto #ignihyde #idia #idia shroud #diasomnia #malleus #malleus draconia #reader insert #janitor au

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | two

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset, past relationships, men vs boys, sexual tension, dubcon [tagging to be safe] [slight alcohol consumption but neither is drunk], verbal consent received, reader described as female, no other physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.1k part one | joel miller masterlist  a/n: i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. & tagging @hausofobsession because charlie's the best

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It had been three and a half weeks since move in day and a few things had become abundantly clear about your new surroundings.

1. Having your own place rocked. You did what you wanted. You answered to no one. If you wanted to have a one person dance party at two in the morning, you did. No downstairs neighbors hollered and banged on their ceiling – your floor. You could paint the walls whatever color you wanted and tear up the flooring if you had the impulse to. Nothing ever again had to be “renter friendly” .

2. Having your own place was a lot of work. There were any number of things that seemed to break, leak, or hang crooked on any given day and instead of ringing up a landlord and complaining, you could only complain to yourself… And then figure out how to fix the broken, leaky, or wonky thing. And it boggled your mind how dust and grime seemed to manifest out of nothingness. Rooms you don’t even remember stepping foot into had somehow acquired a thin film of dust. You were constantly cleaning something or fixing something, and in the most unfortunate of times, your cleaning of something resulted in you also needing to fix it. If anything, owning a home had reinforced to you that you were indeed the man in your life.

3. Joel Miller was practically the mayor of the neighborhood. Everyone knew him. It was impossible to spend any amount of time in the yard and not be bombarded with Joel Miller, Joel Miller, Joel Miller. While he wasn’t particularly outgoing, he seemed to be there when someone needed help. Whether it was Mrs. Cole with her grocery bags or the young, single mother next door to him who needed someone to put her son’s basketball hoop together. He was an everyman. And though he had helped you in a big way on your first day as part of the neighborhood, you’d spent the past few weeks dodging him as much as possible. 

4. And lastly, you needed his help again. At some point during the week, a foul odor had wafted through the entirety of your home. And short of thinking an animal had crawled up and died within the walls, you began scouring the house with as much disinfectant as your sense of smell would allow. Every inch of every room was scrubbed down, and when that still didn’t get rid of the odor, you figured it was time to call an exterminator. Dehydrated, hungry, and about to snap, you opened the refrigerator and was punched in the face by warm, smelly air that burned your nose more than the disinfectant. Ah, the source. 

How long the fridge hadn’t been working, you didn’t know. What you did know was that all the perishables – namely the dairy products – had certainly perished. And after three hours on the phone with a local handyman you’d found online, his ultimate advice was, “get a new refrigerator”. On a normal day, that was easily said and done. You would’ve ordered one the same day and gotten it delivered the next. Only, you’d spent the week prior throwing an obscene amount of money at new furniture to fill the oodles and oodles of empty space you now found yourself inhabiting.

You had genuinely thought about asking Joel for help that same day. At least to get the fridge out of the house because you were sure the smell wouldn’t leave until the entire appliance did. But when you looked out your window, his truck wasn’t in his driveway. And it didn’t arrive back until late that night. There was no way you were going to burden him so late, so you cracked some windows and told yourself you’d ask him in the morning. But the next morning when you Houdini’d yourself out of bed and made a pot of coffee, his truck was already out of the driveway again. An hour and a half later of throwing everything out and deep cleaning it, the fridge didn’t nearly smell as bad. And after a while, you kind of just let it be.

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Saturday. A day of rest. Except you were standing on Joel’s porch, curling your hand into a fist to rap your knuckles against his door, about to ask him to do a little work. A shred of guilt was growing inside of you. Yes, he had said to reach out if you needed something. He’d been nothing but neighborly. But you knew what you were doing. The thing where you use a boy for your gain but have nothing to offer in return. 

Joel opened his front door, breathing a little heavier than normal with a sheen of sweat over his face and down his neck. He appeared to be completely clothed, but whether or not you’d caught him in a state of undress and he threw this on, you had no idea. From what you’d observed by peeking out your front window, the single mother that lived next door to him seemed to have a little bit of a crush. Perhaps that crush was reciprocated on his end.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” You squinted your eyes shut and partially shielded them with your hand.

“What?” He looked down at himself, tugging on his shirt, “no, I just got in from doing yard work out back.” Joel took a deep breath and slowly let it exhale. He remembered when he could be working hard all day and not even feel it. Now there were days when he went up the stairs in his house and got winded. “How ya’ doin?”

“Good, I… I need your help again,”

Joel grinned, something cheeky that you wanted to slap right off his face.

“Don’t look too excited about it. My fridge is on the fritz and it’s too heavy for me to move,”

There was a part of him that wanted to bring to attention that this was the second time in less than a month that you were coming to him for help. Ultimately he thought better of it. The hard line of your lips and narrowness of your eyes clued him in that you were waiting to rebuke anything he might say. Instead he disappeared from the doorway, leaving you utterly confused, only to return a minute later with an old metal toolbox in hand. He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind him.

“No, it’s not getting fixed. I’m getting a new one,”

He quirked his eyebrows and looked down at you, “that fridge is only three years old.” He stepped off his porch and started toward your house.

You took a few quick steps to catch up with him, falling in line and then keeping up that pace to stay even with him. It did look like a fairly modern make. “How do you know that?”

“‘Cause I helped Mrs. Wilson get it in her house three years ago. I’d told her to get that fridge because I knew it’d last. Now unless you or Mrs. Wilson did something on it that it’s not meant for, it should still be perfectly fine.”

“What’re you implying?”

Joel shot a wink in your direction, “you have any male suitors over lately? Get a little frisky in the kitchen over dinner?”

Your jaw dropped as you followed Joel up your porch steps. “No! You can see my house from your house. You know I haven’t had anyone over,”

“I don’t spy on my neighbors.” He walked through your door after you’d opened it for him, “are you spyin’ on me?”

“No, I’m not,” you protested, leading him into the kitchen and directing him toward the problem appliance. “But I do know that next-door neighbor of yours, fancies you,”

“Fancies me?”

“Mhm. She twirls her hair every time she talks to you,”

Joel set the toolbox down on the counter and angled his body at the fridge, “does she now?” He wrapped his arms around it, fingers gripping to the sides, and began to shimmy the entire thing out from its little cubbyhole.

The whole display was rather impressive. Despite actively not yearning or searching for a relationship, acts of masculinity did get you going. It was the double-edged sword that lived inside you. Boys – can’t live with them; can’t live without them. Just because you couldn’t rely on men, didn’t mean the desire to sleep with them wasn’t there. But even you knew, that under no circumstances, were you to sleep or have any sort of sexual contact with Joel Miller. Even if he was a rugged display of masculinity. With sinewy muscles that strained beneath his skin when he flexed them. And fingers that surely knew how to wrap around more than just the handle end of a hammer. He was your neighbor. You weren’t going to shit where you ate. But by God if he didn’t look like a delicious meal. 

It’s the reason you picked up so quickly on the tell-tale signs of attraction by Little Miss Next Door Neighbor. She was looking at him the way all women did when they wanted to be swept up by a man. They wanted to be handled, and led, and submissive. Something you could never be. To a man? Absolutely not. 

This argument you were having with no one but yourself was interrupted when Joel called your name with a tone that indicated to you it wasn’t the first or second time he was calling it. You blinked and focused your eyes, finding he was only partially visible – most of him being shrouded by the fridge that he now stood behind.

“S’not working because it’s dirty. Do you have a handheld vacuum?”

Approaching him, you contorted your body around it to sneak a peek at what he was looking at. “It stopped working because it’s dirty?”

“Could be somethin’ faulty inside, but the condenser coils and gasket seals are a mess. My guess is it’s just that,”

“I called some handyman and he told me I needed a brand new fridge,”

Joel peeked his head out to look at you, “why you callin’ some random handyman when you got one ‘cross the street?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I was going to but you worked weird hours this week and were never home when I looked out my window.”

“So you are spying on me,” he chuckled. “That’s why you’re jealous of Kelly,”

“Who’s jealous?!” It wasn’t lost on you that your voice rose about an octave or two higher than your normal register. You were sure Joel clocked that, too. “I’m just making sure you know she’s got a big ol’ schoolgirl crush on you,”

“She doesn’t ‘cause we’ve gone out before and it wasn’t a match.”

“Does she know that?” 

“I’d say she does,”

You smirked, having a little fun poking the bear. “How do you know?”

“Because when a woman gets naked and propositions a man for sex, and he says no, it’s usually a pretty definitive sign.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed incredulously, “no man looks at a woman who’s ready to fuck and says no to her.”

“This man does,” he looked you dead in the eyes and held your gaze. “You got a vacuum?”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The resoluteness of Joel’s answer had honestly come as a shock. It was something you knew you’d want to circle back on at some point simply because of how insane it seemed. A straight guy turning down sex from a woman? He had to have been the first man in history to do so. The thought kept you busy while your refrigerator kept him busy. Coincidentally, you both became significantly less busy around the same time.

“It works again?”

Joel plugged the fridge back into the wall and stepped out from behind it. He wiped his hands in a rag you’d brought out for him, which just happened to be one of your old, white t-shirts. He didn’t seem to care. Or notice. “Gotta give it a few minutes. See if it’s gettin’ cold,'' he looked up at you, noting how you began to get a little more fidgety, looking around. He wasn’t sure why; perhaps just itching to get him out of your house. “You got any food for dinner?”

“Yeah,” you said half-heartedly, thinking about how you were about to endure yet another day of some sad, canned soup. “I can whip up a can of something,”

He shook his head and waved you off, “come by tonight. I’ll fix you a meal,”

“You just fixed my fridge.”

“Maybe,” he smiled.

“I should be cooking you a meal,”

He shook his head vehemently, “I haven’t eaten chicken noodle soup since I was about nine, and I don’t aim to start up again.” He pulled open the fridge door, set his hands on one of the shelves and decided it was slightly colder than it had been just a couple minutes prior. “It should be good to go now,” he loaded up his toolbox and locked it up. “Swing by around seven. If you stand me up, I’m coming back over here and breaking the damn thing,”

“Joel,”

“Seven.”

With that, he was out before you could protest again. Somehow both of you knew you’d be showing up to his house that night. Annoyance bubbled up at your surface with the realization that not only did you know you weren’t going to disobey him, but he knew it too. The few hours between him leaving and you showing back up on his porch for dinner had been spent sulking. Whatever this was becoming – you weren’t sure what just friendship looked like with a boy because no single, unattached boy you’d ever met only wanted friendship – was getting to be too much. There needed to be a line drawn in the sand. You needed to draw the line in the sand. And more importantly, after the line was drawn, you and Joel needed to be securely on opposite sides of it.

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But curse this man and his ability to put ideas in your head. Horrible, awful, domestic ideas. The sorts of ideas that made you think this image of him: on the back porch with a beer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, a dish towel slung over his shoulder for quick access, flipping over and inspecting a couple steaks, chewing on his bottom lip as he pondered how close to medium they were getting… was an image you could get used to seeing.

It was how all boys in the past had gotten you.

They wooed you with their little acts here and there of masculinity. Or their wit. Or just cute looks. They made you believe that they were different. That they were honest, and open, and evolved. And you’d get sucked in and follow the white rabbit down the hole. For a while it’d all be good. You would actually believe that you had found an evolved man that you could coexist with and be happy. But after the momentary bliss, you’d come to realize that the wool had been pulled over your eyes. You’d been deceived and lied to. The boy could not manage his own emotions, let alone understand yours. You’d sit in the anger that you betrayed your sense of self to make room for this boy, and only when you’d talked yourself far enough off the ledge, you’d explode like a time bomb. Afterwards, a tiny piece of you would be the only thing left to go around picking up all the other little fragments of yourself. And you’d put yourself back together with tape and a promise that you wouldn’t ever allow another to break you like that again. That is, until another boy found his way to you and made you think he was different. And thus the cycle continued.

“You have family out here?” Joel looked up from the barbecue and took a sip of his beer while he waited for you to answer.

Taking a step forward and buying some time by swigging down a gulp of your beer, you shook your head. “They’re all in California still. Just had to get away. What about you?”

He nodded and closed the grill, “Sarah’s a few hours away at school and her mom’s ‘bout a half hour away. But my brother’s here. I work with him actually,”

“You must be close with him,”

Joel nodded absently.

“But no wife for Joel Miller,” you smiled, half-hidden by your bottle. “I take it no girlfriend either since apparently you don’t like getting laid,”

He laughed. It was the first real, hearty laugh you’d heard from him. It seemed to shake his whole body and he opened the grill back up and plucked the steaks off it, depositing them on an awaiting plate. “I like getting laid. It might be my favorite thing to do,”

“That’s why I think you’re full of shit. Turning down, what’s her name…”

“Kelly…”

“You’re telling me,” you approached Joel slowly, got right up close to him, and dragged a delicate finger over one of his shoulders and down his bicep to prove a point. “A woman… an attractive woman, I’d say… stripped down in front of you, told you to have your way with her, and you said no thanks,”

Joel watched your finger. His tongue poked out of his mouth quickly to lick his lips before he flashed his eyes back to you, obviously finding great pleasure that his gaze in this close proximity made you avert your own eyes downward. “Exactly,”

You half-smiled and shook your head as you took a step back, “bullshit.”

He shut off the grill and scooped the plate up. “Explain to me why you think that’s bullshit,” he meandered past you and pulled his back door open, allowing you the chance to walk in first before he followed you in.

Instinctively, you progressed into the kitchen, where two stools at the counter were awaiting with place settings. You perched in one while Joel set the steaks down by you and continued to the oven where he pulled out a tray of roasted vegetables. “Because you’re a guy,”

“Man,” he corrected and started placing food on your plate.

“A man,” you mocked. When he finished giving you food and moved onto his, “thank you. And men don’t do that. They chase pleasure. They get their dick wet and they move on down the line, leaving a path of destruction in their wake,”

This time, Joel waited to respond until he was seated next to you. He clinked his bottle against yours, “thanks for coming over.”

“To be honest, I was actually afraid you’d blow up my fridge and I can’t really afford a new one right now,”

“But I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” he focused on his plate and cut into his steak. Seemingly pleased with the degree with which it was cooked, he took a first bite. “Men don’t only care, as you so delicately put, about getting their dick wet.”

“Joel, come on, you know…”

“Boys do. For sure. A boy would look at you, a beautiful woman, and see a direct path to his pleasure. Absolutely. And a boy probably wouldn’t care too much about whether or not you were getting as much out of it as he was. ‘Cause he’s getting his, right?”

You nodded, silently pushing a mixture of steak and veggies into your mouth, enraptured with where he was going to take this conversation. And slightly unable to concentrate past the point of having heard him call you beautiful. 

“Men don’t do that. A man would look at you and see that yes, you’re a beautiful woman. But he’d also see that you’ve got a helluva brain, and you’re witty, and funny, and more than a little stubborn. He’d see that you hold yourself and everyone else to a high standard, and he’d want to meet it. And when he slept with you, he’d want to make sure you were getting more out of it than he was,”

Awe-struck was the only word to describe how you felt. Was a guy actually verbalizing everything you already believed? That there was a difference between boys and men. And that most guys thought they were men simply because of their age, when you knew age meant nothing in defining a man. 

Joel took a deep breath and finished off his beer, “I turned Kelly down because I knew if I slept with her I’d be taking on a lot more than I wanted to with her. And despite whatever your experience with men might be, this one’s not out to leave a path of destruction behind him.”

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What were these complicated feelings inside of you? Someone who prided themselves on being emotionally intelligent and level-headed and yet… you were spinning like a top. On the one hand you wanted to keep everyone a safe arm’s length away, and on the other you wanted Joel to scale the walls you’d constructed and fortified around yourself. For a long time there was an odd sense of accomplishment at how tall and strong you’d managed to build them. Look at how good they were at keeping people out. But now there was someone in front of you that you thought you wanted to let in – only in constructing your walls, you never put in a gate. And that ribbon of apathy, and the moments of enduring loneliness, maybe it was all self-inflicted.

Who knew how to hurt you better than you?

The beer helped dull those thoughts. Finishing off the second as the conversation meandered through Joel’s last relationship. A topic that would’ve given you supreme pause, and yet he recounted it with ease as if he were just a court reporter, tasked with jotting down the facts. He even acknowledged his role in the dissolution of that relationship. His eyes seemed to glaze over and travel to a distant land as he described all the ways he didn’t measure up. How he was never quite what that woman wanted. And how he had no idea how to become what she wanted. On the flip side, he admitted she’d started off as someone that only saw the moon with him. She’d kept some nights from being too cold and lonely. Only when a certain amount of time passed, did she speak up and sort of declare a relationship was there. 

That conversation ended when a third bottle was grabbed for each and moved to the living room. Both on the couch, you with your back pressed up against one of the arm’s of it. Your knees bent with feet planted securely on the cushion. And Joel sitting as close as he could with your legs creating a physical boundary between you. Even his thigh covered your toes, as if seeing how close to the boundary he could get. Despite feeling like this was someone you wanted to let through your walls, however temporarily, your brain still managed to cut off any inkling from your heart – using your body as the vehicle to keep everyone at bay.

“Hmm?” Joel hummed and grabbed your attention back to the present. “‘S’not fair leaving me hanging after I just spilled all my gory relationship details. What about yours?”

You shook your head, trying to appear innocent, “there’s not much to say.”

“Say anything,”

Staring at him, you took a deep breath and a generous sip of your new beer. Then feeling on the good side of buzzed, you stretched forward to move for the coffee table. Seeing your plight and the awkwardness of the angle given that you weren’t inclined to lower your legs to make the action smoother, Joel leaned forward, gently took the bottle from your hands and set it on the table for you.  

“He was nice at the start. A bit older than me. I thought it meant we’d be on the same wavelength for once, y’know? That he’d outgrown the frat boy, tool bag phase and moved into a more evolved one. It got physical quick and it was… awful.” You glanced down at your hands, remembering for the first time in a while about what sleeping with that guy felt like – a trial run with hari-kari, complete and self-inflicted betrayal.

With your pause and sensing obvious discomfort, Joel reached across his body and got a loose grip on your shin. He gave it a soft squeeze that felt like permission to stop if you were so inclined. But it didn’t hurt like it used to; as if you had been able to remove yourself from the equation and were now just recounting the plot of some terrible film you’d seen once.

Shrugging and with a half-smile he couldn’t place, you looked back up at Joel, “he had a good time.”

“Was it ever good for you?” He mumbled as though he didn’t actually want to hear the answer. And because you hadn’t reacted in any way to his hand on your shin, he took a chance and used that grip to lower your leg across his lap.

“No, but I’m a helluva actress.”

He raised his eyebrows and absently took hold of your other leg and lowered that one across his lap, too. Now the literal barrier you’d put between you had been carefully circumvented. “He never stopped to figure it out?”

You shook your head, “he was getting his, Joel. See, it’s hard to figure out when you’re dealing with a boy. They hide it well,”

Joel reached forward and set his half-empty beer next to yours on the coffee table. When he reclined back to his previous position, his hands migrated to your feet and squeezed them with a familiarity of an old married couple who’d been practicing this dance for decades.

“It ended two and a half years ago, so a distant memory,”

He only nodded. You thought he’d have something about that. Something like what’ve you been doing for two years without a man. But maybe he figured you were doing just fine. Probably better. So he only squeezed your feet again before his hands migrated a little further north to your knees, fingers just barely dipping between your thighs that you’d managed to keep pressed together. Finally he asked:

“No fillers in the meantime?”

It made you laugh. Any number of innuendo could be applied to his question. It was also at this point that you felt your resolve fading. The will to keep him at bay becoming less of a conscious effort. “No fillers. Not really my style,”

“Not a one night stand kinda girl?” He smirked and shot a playful glance at you. There was no chance he was unaware that the press of your thighs together had lessened. Any further action of his hand would’ve resulted in him going wherever he wanted, however he wanted. But he didn’t. His hand remained where it was, gaining no further purchase and adding no extra pressure.

“Would you be if sex was never good for you?”

He chuckled and threw his head back against the couch, “fair enough.” He shook his head, absently staring at the ceiling. Only when he’d gathered his thoughts and words did he shift his gaze back to you. “People are simple creatures,” there was a slight pause and though you opened your mouth to refute that, he continued first. “I mean the biology part. It’s not hard to get a woman off,”

“Okay, hotshot. Let me go get a horn for you to toot a little louder,”

He grinned widely, showing off nearly every tooth in his mouth. The look made you smile as well – like a kid getting caught opening presents before Christmas. “There’s a lot of hard tasks in this world,” he pursed his lips and shrugged, “making a woman come isn’t one of them.”

The heat you’d felt rising in your chest and neck after he’d successfully moved your mattress into your bedroom was returning. Only this time, you felt it settle in your cheeks, and you wondered if he was aware of it. Your eyes were glued to him, wide, trying to pick up on as much visual information they could get. What you found was Joel adding the slightest of pressure between your knees to spread your thighs just enough for him to pivot on the couch and face you squarely.

You swallowed down a lump in your throat, eyes flicking over the sight of him: the way graying curls moved across his forehead, or the way his eyes never left yours. Not even for a second. Not even when he was positioning himself closer to you, kneeling back on his shins with his thighs nudging yours upward at an angle. He smiled softly, a gentle thing that instantly put you at greater ease, and leaned in closer to you, planting his hands on the couch on either side of your chest.

“Can I kiss you?” His focus wandered down to your lips when they parted. 

In all your years of life, no one had ever asked that, and it took you aback, scrambling to make sense of the English you believed you were fluent in. But you nodded quickly and assumed that would’ve been the green light. Probably would’ve for most people, but as you were coming to learn, Joel wasn’t quite like most people.

He smiled and bowed his head, taking a breath to gather himself. In the meantime, his hair was close to your nose and the muskiness of his scent was everything you thought and wanted it to be. He raised his head and looked at you again, his eyes practically pleading. “Can we make that verbal?”

“Yes,” you exhaled. But when it didn’t result in his lips meeting yours with haste, you tried again. “Kiss me,”

Like a fire ignited under him, Joel closed the rest of the gap between you. Hands drifting to your cheeks, he cupped your head with the most practiced of ease and pressed his mouth to yours, first with closed lips to test the waters before the next action was the parting of his lips on yours. His tongue searched for entrance into your mouth, finding it when a soft breath was exhaled.

While trying not to talk yourself out of this moment, you also tried to think about the last time you’d been kissed like this. Or kissed at all, period. But like this, with want, and desire, and passion. Like all of Joel was made for this exact moment: to kiss you with the intention of every fiber of his being; to make your brain go foggy and blur out everything that did not add to this need. It was as if he could sense you slipping away from him, focused elsewhere instead of letting yourself buy into this, and he recaptured you with a soft bite to your lower lip. He re-positioned his hands; one at the side of your neck and jaw, and the other gripping onto your hip, adjusting you further until your ass was pressed up against his crotch. 

He forced himself to pull back, slight enough to be able to speak but still close enough to press his forehead against yours. “Stay with me. Don’t go somewhere else,” 

Your instinct was to protest, that you weren’t about to leave, but realized he’d picked up on the thing you were wondering about. The thing no guy had ever picked up on, or cared to, before. The distance your brain was willing to create between itself and your body.

“Joel,” you whispered, sounding slightly more needy than you would’ve hoped. 

“I know,” he murmured back. His hand ditched your hip for a split second and took hold of your wrist. Led it up over his shoulder and to the back of his neck, until the backs of your fingers brushed along the ends of his hair. Without fail, you softly clutched into it. “Stay with me. Right here,” his hand went back to your hip and your lips reconnected. Open-mouthed with his tongue pressing into yours. He tilted his head to the side and groaned into your mouth, sending a vibration down your throat, past your chest, through your stomach, and straight to your core.

You hummed back into his mouth, for once closing your eyes and letting yourself live in the feeling his lips could administer. The heat that had already been living in your cheeks seemed to amplify with the size of him around you. His broad shoulders meeting a wide chest that seemed to dwarf you. Large hands that effortlessly cupped around your hip or engulfed your cheek. He was everywhere at once and when he ducked his head lower to kiss your neck, landing a love bite on your jugular, it took extra measures to keep yourself grounded and there for him.

Your hand slowly released the hair at the nape of his neck, and slid down over his shoulder to his chest, followed the seam at the side of his t-shirt until your fingertips reached the hem at the bottom. With fingers tucking beneath the fabric and meeting the skin at his oblique, you felt him exhale a hot breath against your neck, his hips shifting beneath you. As you ran your hand north, you took stock of the muscles your fingers passed, and how while still present and firm, they’d grown less pronounced with age. A softness to his body that he’d earned the right to after years of hard labor. Or so you assumed by the feeling of calloused hands on you. 

Gauging what you wanted from him as your hands worked their way upward, pushing his shirt up with them, he groaned not wanting to take his lips off your neck, but doing so anyway to sit back. With a swift motion, he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor unceremoniously. He wiped his hand down over his mouth and shook his head as if in disbelief as he pressed his hands back into the couch on either side of you, “god, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

His eyes danced their way over every feature on your face as if trying to commit them to memory, before they drifted lower, down to where your hips met his. But all this unadulterated looking sparked a flame of timidness inside you, and your instinct to quell the nerves was to grab for him, urging him back to you. If he was busy with his lips on you – any part of you – it’d keep his eyes from boring holes into you. His lips met yours again with fervor, this time forcing his tongue into your mouth. A helpless moan floated out of your throat and Joel responded by laying a hand at your neck. Fingers around it but applying no pressure.

“Bed. Please,” you whispered so low you wondered if you had wanted him to hear it or not. 

But it was like he was attuned to you and your body more than any previous guy had been. And in hearing your request, he moved his lips back to your neck and you felt a smile spread across his face, pressing against your skin.

“Please tell me you’re not drunk,” he mumbled against your skin. So tight that it distorted his words and had you humming for instant clarification. He lifted his head and looked back down at you, as if his eyes alone would be able to figure out the answer. “Drunk?”

You ran your hands up to his chest, “on two and a half beers?”

“That’s not an answer,” he let out a breath and drifted his hand from your neck, down to your chest where he gave one of your breasts a squeeze. You noticed at the same moment, he reached around to your ass but avoided it to simply adjust himself in his jeans.

“I’d have to be drunk to want to sleep with you?”

“I reckon it’d help,” he grinned boyishly and bent in again for another tongue-led kiss as though he couldn’t help himself.

You grabbed either side of his face in your hands and curled your fingers into his beard. “Not drunk, just want you,” there was a lack of movement on his end and you weren’t sure if he was short-circuiting or trying to figure out if someone your size could indeed get drunk on two and a half beers. Either way, you tapped his ribs, “now, if possible.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #almost there in part 3 #the one you need #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #au #neighbor!joel

[leupagus]

The degree to which Davos and Brienne are going to become reluctant BFFs, because their lieges keep coming to them complaining about each other, is UNREAL

or, more from this fic that's slowly eating my life

~

Their journey to the Northern army's camp had revealed a great deal about Lady Stark and her lords and petty chieftains: their patronizing generosity, their gruff suspicion of outsiders, and above all their mind-boggling obstinacy. Ned and Lyanna had been much the same, from what he remembered, and Stannis had seen shades of it in Jon Snow, though couched more gently than he'd expected from a bastard. He'd imagined — insofar as he'd imagined her at all — that Lady Stark would be gentler still, her mother's line warming that chilled Northern blood.

He had been disastrously mistaken. It was a wonder only one Stark had survived, but it was already clear that she had gathered the entire share of Stark mulishness.

"I have conditions, Your Grace," said Lady Stark. "If this alliance is to succeed in retaking Winterfell, I feel it right that you hear them." She placed the parchment in her hand carefully on his table and stepped back, hands folded primly.

She had requested, and been granted, this conference shortly after Stannis's army had made camp alongside the Northern soldiers. Stannis's tent had barely been erected when she came to him with this parchment, her wolf, and a determined expression. He had thought he'd listened to her enough on the journey as she'd prattled away with Shireen, but he was in the mood to be permissive.

Reading through her list of demands, he could feel the headache building along his jaw and up through his skull. "Have you lost your mind?" he said, for the second time in a week to an unreasonable woman.

Melisandre had brushed his question aside, but Lady Stark was not made of such supple stuff; she stiffened and glowered at him. "That is a peculiar way to agree to my terms, Your Grace."

"Your terms are rather more than peculiar, my lady," he said, tossing the parchment back on the table.

In truth, the first one was not so peculiar: it said that should they regain the Keep, he would recognize Sansa Stark as Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North in her own right. He would not pass her over in favor of some lesser Northern male relative, nor would he obligate her to marry and rule only as companion to her husband. Considering Stannis's own intention to ensure Shireen sat on the Iron Throne after his death, he could hardly begrudge her this.

Considering the other two stipulations, however, he felt very much inclined to begrudge her everything.

"Supposing your younger brothers turn up?" he asked, thrusting his chin at the parchment. "Or Jon Snow is legitimized?"

This question didn't faze her, he suspected because it was a question of logistics and protocol rather than a personal remark. "If Jon is made legitimate, I don't believe he would want Winterfell—"

"Duty is not a question of wanting, Lady Stark," he reminded her. "And the Lord Commander is—"

"The Lord Commander, as you say, is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," she retorted. "His life has already been pledged to the Wall. If he didn't abandon that cause in aid of my brother Robb, he won't abandon it now."

Stannis observed her. There was bitterness there, certainly, though less than he would have thought. Lady Stark clearly understood the ties that bound men to their duty, even if she did not like them.

"However," she continued, "Should any of my brothers wish to make a claim to Winterfell in my place, I won't stand against them." She paused for a moment, and added, "I have no wish to die at their hands out of misplaced pride."

Stannis clenched his jaw but let that go for the moment — it would be addressed soon enough. "You call me 'Your Grace,'" he said, tapping at the parchment, "Yet your second stipulation says that you will not bend the knee to me, even if I regain Winterfell for you."

"No, it says that I will not bend the knee to any claimant to the throne until they hold the majority of the kingdoms," she shot back. "The Lannisters hold the Crownlands, the Westerlands and the Reach at present. The Riverlands are still in chaos, the Vale has withdrawn from all alliances to sulk in their mountains, and both Dorne and the Iron Islands have declared for themselves, more or less. You can, at best, claim that the Stormlands still support you, though I've seen no evidence for it — they didn't march under your banner at first, did they?"

That was the second time she had brought up Renly, however obliquely. If she were trying to drive him mad, she couldn't go about it any better. "When I hold the North, my lady, I will have more land—"

"Setting aside the notion that it will be you alone who holds the North, you'll have more land and fewer men than any other region. If you wish to win against the Lannisters, you'll need more than mountains and glaciers fighting your battles. And if I wish to be Warden of the North, I can't keep the respect of my lords by swearing fealty to a man who has yet to earn it."

"I could have you burned for such talk," he said, getting to his feet and pouring himself some water, hoping it would ease the throbbing in his head.

"You don't burn nobles, you behead them," she replied cooly. "I should know. I was there when the Lannisters took my own father's head for supporting your claim to the Iron Throne. I have no intention of sharing his fate." She took a deep breath, and only then did he note that her hands had been clenched together, her right covering the balled-up fist of her left. "I won't take arms against you now or in the future, on that I give my word."

"And if I do have you beheaded?" he asked, putting the tin cup down before he crumpled it in his hand.

It seemed to amuse her. "Then my words will mean even less than they do now."

"They mean nothing, because you will not give them!" He pinched his nose and attempted to regain his composure. Surprisingly difficult, with this — child.

She regarded him for a moment. "You call me Lady Stark, Your Grace," she said, "but tell me, have you heard anyone else call me that?"

Stannis, thrown by the question, was forced to consider it. In truth, he had heard only Lady Sansa, though said with more reverence by her men and lords than he could ever recall being addressed himself. "You are Lady Stark."

"Not without Winterfell," she said, shaking her head. "It's more than just the home of the Starks, it is our…place in the world. We belong nowhere else. Just as there must always be a Stark at Winterfell, so too do we need Winterfell to truly be Starks." She gave him a pointed look. "Just as Your Grace needs the Iron Throne, and the fealty of all the Seven Kingdoms, to truly be king."

She was wrong, of course, but Stannis felt the same lurch in his belly whenever his footing slipped during a bout. "Perhaps your reticence has something to do with this last stipulation," he said instead, going back to the table and jabbing his finger at the third line. "Falsely accusing a king is treason."

"Is Lady Brienne falsely accusing you, Your Grace?" she asked, smooth as ice. Her hands were still clenched, he noted.

"I was nowhere near Renly's camp when he died," Stannis said, with perfect truth, even as he felt himself balanced on a knife's edge.

He had been nowhere near. He had woken up just before dawn with the lead weight of certainty in his belly, knowing what had happened — what the Red Woman had said must happen — and lying there, staring up at the tent's canvas, he had wept. Wept for the brothers he had loved and who had never loved him back. He would never know if Renly had had a hand in Robert's death; just as he would never know if he himself had had a hand in Renly's. Had he ordered Melisandre to kill him? Had he believed her when she said she could make such a thing come to pass? Davos had begged to tell him of what had happened in the cave that night, what monstrous thing the Red Woman had done to bring Renly's death about. Stannis had refused to hear it. Perhaps there was a sort of rough justice in facing his accuser now, the only one living who knew the truth.

"Lady Brienne has served me faithfully," said Lady Stark, "and my mother before me, at great cost to herself. I believe her testimony, Your Grace."

"Her testimony that I murdered my own brother."

Lady Stark regarded him steadily. "I will not insult either of you by declaring one more honorable than the other. But when I regain Winterfell, my duty as Warden of the North will be to adjudicate all such matters, and this falls under my purview. Even if you were crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms in the Red Keep itself, the North holds all persons, regardless of title, under its laws while they reside here."

"Renly didn't die in the North," was all he could manage to say.

"He died, Your Grace." Lady Stark looked almost pitying. "And for that, I'm sorry. I know what it is to lose your brothers. But on this point I will not waver."

"Is there any point on which you have?" he asked, curious.

She continued serenely. "Lady Brienne will be permitted to make her accusation publicly; how you respond to it is your affair, but if you prevail, you must give me your word now that she will not be held guilty of treason, nor will she be killed by any member of your party by any means." She put enough emphasis on the last two words to make her meaning plain.

"And if she prevails?" Stannis asked. "Your stipulations do not mention the outcome of the trial, only that it will take place." He smiled grimly. "Your father always said that he who passes the sentence should swing the sword, my lady. Will you behead me yourself?"

"I doubt either of us would find that a pleasant exercise, Your Grace," she said, her lip curling slightly. She didn't blanch, however; young as she was, she had seen worse. Had possibly done worse, if the rumors about the Purple Wedding were true. He'd not asked. "If you are found guilty, then you will ride south. If you win the support of the other kingdoms, the North will bend the knee to you. But you'll never come north of the Neck again. Does that satisfy?"

Stannis glanced down at the parchment again. There it all was, in black and white: the price he must pay for the North. The blasted girl had even provided a space for him to sign at the bottom.

"Not remotely," he said, but reached for his pen.

#got: bitches get stuff done #game of thrones motherfuckers #the more I write these two together the more I'm mad that they never got to meet #same with Tywin and Daenerys #(although that's mostly due to watching too many Charles Dance interviews where he gushes over Clarke's performances) #(as he should!) #but some of the most interesting characters never got a chance to meet and it's a TRAVESTY #anyway #I've read a fair amount of GOT fic and none of them so far have written Stannis-Sansa interactions the way I feel that they would go #which is as you can tell: poorly #just let them be bitches!!! god!!!!!! #also don't even worry brienne is absolutely going to kick stannis's ass even if she doesn't kill him #she should get little an attempted murder as a treat

[ninjakk]

Hey!!

I recently saw someone claim that Wei Wuxian was starved of conversation on his journey to Yiling with Lan Wangji and Wen Ning and so board he needed to chat to people before they ascend the mountain. I hadn't really noticed this until it was mentioned. What do you think of that scene?

I love your meta and fics btw. You use your understanding of the novel in your writing and it's just *chef's kiss*

Hi anon 👋🏻

Personally, I've not seen any comments regarding the above - but we can certainly look at the text in question 😊

Let's take a look at the scene in question:

Several days later, they arrived in Yiling.

The Burial Mounds were less than five kilometers ahead of this small town. Although they didn’t know exactly what awaited them there, Wei Wuxian had a feeling it wasn’t anything good. But Lan Wangji was right by his side, his gait steady, his gaze cool. Wei Wuxian had never been one with any sense of crisis to begin with, and with the way Lan Wangji looked, he was even less likely to get nervous at all.

Passing through the small town of Yiling, he was awash in the sounds of the local accent. It was invigorating and incomparably endearing. While he wasn’t planning on buying anything, he couldn’t help but strike up conversations in the local dialect with the street vendors. Only after he’d had his fill of socializing did he get down to business.

“Hanguang-jun, you remember this town, right?”

7S translation

So the scene opens with WWX gushing over how safe and happy he feels around LWJ. He's just so thankful to have someone by his side, someone he can fully depend on and is there for him, should he need it. This very much echoes his thoughts from when they began their descent from the Cloud Recesses, at the start of their journey here. For someone nearing the place he met such a gruesome end at previously, he seems incredibly content and calm - all thanks to LWJ. So straight away, we are reminded of how WWX feels around the other man. It's there for a reason, to set the scene. WWX is relaxed and enjoying himself because he's with LWJ.

They have just arrived in a city he is very familiar with. It's the place he both lived as an orphan and frequented as a man while residing at the burial mounds. He is surrounded by the accent of his "home" for the first time in over 13 years and it's making him feel sentimental. I also think it's a great parallel between when WWX finally visits Lotus Pier in the coming chapters and how desolate and subdued the place has become since JC became sect leader.

I think the above reaction is very normal considering the emotional impact it obviously had on him. WWX has already stated on numerous occasions that LWJ makes him happy and he enjoys his company, but he's also very sociable and likes to look around markets and chat with vendors - there's even a scene in the novel which states as such and many other examples. Although WWX is running around chatting and exploring the stalls, LWJ is still by his side. Doing so does not subtract from his obvious enjoyment of having LWJ's unwavering presence.

We see more than enough evidence that WWX happily chats to LWJ and that he, in turn, even responds and asks questions also. There seems to be this mind-boggling misconception that LWJ literally doesn't speak, and if he does he's like some caveman that can't communicate effectively, when it's the exact opposite. LWJ talks when necessary and is very succinct with his words - he's a true gentleman of their time. Of course, in comparison to WWX, he's much less chatty - but when he does talk it's sincere and relevant. WWX loves this about him! He's also an incredible listener and doesn't miss a single thing WWX says, which WWX also appreciates! Hardly anyone listens to all his ramblings and holds them all so dearly!

It's funny, because although WWX chats to anyone and everyone, it's obvious he enjoys conversing with LWJ the most. He treasures the fact they are on the same wavelength and understand each other implicitly 🥰

Aww! Thank you so much anon! I'm glad you are enjoying my meta and fics ❤️

I hope I managed to answer your question! Have a lovely day 😘

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs novel #anon ask #answered ask