#who came up with this absurd phrase

[itsallyscorner]

Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two | H.S

pairing: boyfriend!Harry Styles x reader

summary: you unintentionally help Harry with a song he’s been struggling to write

warnings: a lil on the cheesy side tbh, but she’s cute. Mentions the pandemic

a/n: this was one from the drafts, originally written when Harry’s House was released and I finally got around to finishing it :)

Sometime during 2020 and the pandemic

His soft murmurs and humming were the only sounds that can be heard in his makeshift studio. The occasionally creaking of the house or him clicking his pen would break the silence from time to time. His frame was hunched over on the burnt orange colored couch, with his knees almost pressed against his chest, the couch was far too small for his tall figure. However, he liked the couch and it was comfy to lay on when he took breaks from writing. The journal he used to jot down lyrics was balanced on his left knee while his right hand scribbled words on the paper sloppily.

He had just gotten off a zoom call with Kid, Mitch, and some other members who he’s been working with for his new album. While they were supposed to be working in the studio for today’s session, one of the writers had come down with a cold. While it wasn’t confirmed to be COVID, Harry and his team decided it would be safe if everyone just isolated themselves for a while until further notice. Harry actually enjoyed the thought of working on the album at his home. He considered this to be one of the most intimate albums he’s ever made. The artist in him believed that being in the place where he’s comfortable being vulnerable would allow him to write more personal songs. Being home also allowed him to be closer to his muse—you.

The small claw clip holding his fringe from his face began to feel a bit too tight and his eyes were straining against the warm toned light to look at the page on his journal. He had been stuck on a certain verse for a while now and couldn’t bring himself to just call it a day on writing. He had been on the grind when he first started it, but all of a sudden his verses were turning into single words waiting to be properly knitted into a song. So far, some words/phrases he had were:

Wine glass

Puff pass

Side boob ;)

Cocaine

Toothache

Yellow sunglasses

They were the most random and absurd words to be grouped together, yet he knew he was going somewhere with whatever he had. His train of thought came to a halt when your voice rang through the room.

“Hey, you”

His eyes shifted towards your voice and there you were leaning against the door frame. You wore one of his old sweatshirts, which came up to your knees, and some socks on your feet. You weren’t wearing much but your presence and the soft smile gracing your features screamed comfort to him.

The slight frown on Harry’s face turned into a smile that resembled yours. Pushing off of the door frame, you slowly approached Harry’s spot on the couch.

“Hi angel.” He greeted you, spreading his legs out to make space for you. You happily make your way in between his legs and settle on the floor. You crossed your legs and sat so you were looking up at him. Harry craned his neck to place a kiss on your temple, his lips continuing to move down your face to spread little kisses all over your face. When he got to your lips he placed a soft peck on them with a smile on his own pinkish lips.

“Hope you don’t mind me bothering you.” You tease, the sweet smile still on your face. Harry scoffs playfully, “Y’never a bother to me. I missed you today, what’ve y’been up to?”

He’s been in the “studio” since the morning, having a quick breakfast with you and immediately hopping on zoom to work with his team. It was now 6pm and you couldn’t recall seeing or hearing your boyfriend leave the room throughout the day for a break or a snack—which led to you checking in on him.

“Not much, finished up some things for work and caught up on some Love Island.” You shrugged, Harry rolling his eyes jokingly at the mention of the reality tv show. “How ‘bout you? Was today’s session successful?” You ask. Harry hums, reaching for his journal.

“S’half ‘n half. We finished that track we wrote last month—don’t know if y’remember it—but it turned out really great. I have a good feeling ‘bout it once it’s out.” He began while still flipping back to the page he last wrote on. “I started writing another, b’now I’m just stuck. M’brain feels like it can’t think of anything else, s’blank.” He ranted using his hands to express his emotions. You let out a chuckle as you avoid one of his large hands waving around from hitting your face.

“Maybe it’s time for you to take a break, H. You’ve been here all day, god knows how long you’ve been slouched on this couch.” For emphasis, you nudge said couch, Harry shooting you a look.

“S’not a bad couch, leave m’couch alone.” He pouts, silently agreeing that it was definitely time for a break. You duck out of his arms and get up, walking towards the door. Harry follows, moving to get up but halts his movements when a crack comes from his back. You swiftly turn around with your eyes wide and an amused look.

“Oi m’back!” Harry exclaimed in shock. He stood there for second before making eye contact with you. The two of you burst out laughing.

“I fucking told you!” You pointed at him, only to be gently pushed out the door by Harry who was muttering for you to “shuddup”.

Despite the two of you being home, Harry linked his fingers with yours while you both walked to the kitchen. His large hand engulfed yours, his rough thumb stroking the top of your hand.

“I’m actually hungry.” Harry thought aloud once the kitchen came to view. He was wondering what he should eat, deciding between leftovers, cooking, or ordering in. However, he let out a gasp when he saw food already on the table.

He turned around to you beaming, “Y’made my favorite!” On the dining table were pancakes, hash browns, eggs, and coffee. Even though he was eating healthier, Harry believed that one can never go wrong with breakfast for dinner. The main reason why he loved it was because of a memory you both shared during the early stages of your relationship.

The two of you had overslept at his house after movie night and skipped dinner. By the time you both woke up, everything was closed. So the two of you ended up rummaging through his kitchen only to find eggs, pancake mix, frozen hash browns, and coffee. Harry loved that night so much because it was the moment you two truly got to know each other more and connected. It was like finally breaking the barrier of whatever was holding you back from one another. Till this day he remembers the sleepy haze behind your eyes as you shared stories from your past. Your mascara smudged beneath your eyes and your hair was a mess, but none of that mattered because he thought you were beautiful either way. Ever since that night, the two of you would have breakfast for dinner as a staple in your household.

While Harry piled two plates with eggs, pancakes, and hash browns, you filled up two mugs with coffee. Harry liked his black, while you liked yours with a bit of cream and sugar. The two of you settled in the living room, ditching the dining table because it just wasn’t comfy enough. You smiled down at your plate—which had maple syrup dripping down a tower of pancakes—as Harry picked a record to put on. Call it old school, but it was one of the normal things keeping you sane during this lockdown. He had chosen one of his Elvis ones. The same one he played that first night you had breakfast for dinner.

You sat across each other on the couch, feet nuzzled together and your knees bumping alongside the other. The sound of your forks and knives scratching against the plate filled the room along with Elvis’s voice on the record player.

Harry had forgotten he had been writing the entire day. Instead, he remembered all the places you traveled to and the memories you made together on those trips. Being stuck at home for months made the both of you crave the outside world and the normality of it all. Though as much as you wanted to book a trip to Italy, it wasn’t safe to leave the country.

It felt like the world was ending, but to Harry it didn’t feel like it because he was with you. You brought light to the darkness—yes, it was cheesy—but it was the only way Harry knew how to describe being with you.

You guys spent the night eating and reminiscing on past memories you made together. As the hours passed, your plates were now empty and on the coffee counter, while you had found your way into your lover’s arms. His arms held you close to him as your body rested perfectly against his. Your head laid upon his chest, allowing you to feel him breathe and hear the beating of his heart. You were surrounded by his warmth and it was truly all you ever wanted.

Harry could feel you dozing off, your sentences had gotten shorter and your voice had a slight slur. With his nose against your temple he whispered, “Y’know I’ll always love you, right?”

You shifted your head to look into his dark emerald eyes, “Yeah.”

His eyes squinted at you playfully, “How so?” He tested you.

“Because I know I’ll always love you too.”

Then just like that, a spark set off in his head, and all of a sudden the words he has jotted down earlier that day made sense.

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles drabble #Harry styles blurb #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #Harry’s house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles

[goldsainz]

ECHOES OF LOVE — one shot.

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

2K CELEBRATION. MASTERLIST.

taglist: @lorarri @lpab @whatthefuckerr @noncannonships @lunnnix @elliegrey2803 @schumacheer @saintslewis

summary: you can only watch as the man you love becomes a shell of who he once was.

request: “i would like to have ✒️— with prompt “i don’t even recognize you anymore.” with Charles!”

warnings: angst, ferrari being enemy #1, poorly proof-read, charles’s an asshole.

NOTE: this is all over the place but i kinda like the mess. every time i write for charles i read it over and over bc i don’t know if i am doing him justice. i hope you all enjoy this and find it entertaining, at least.

[ word count: 1,2k ]

Forza Ferrari sempre. 

You didn’t know when, but somewhere along the way you grew to hate the phrase. You suppose it was when Charles started to lose himself in his devotion to the team or when he no longer had time to even look at you some days. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that Ferrari was one of the main priorities Charles had in his life, what you didn’t know or even have in mind, is that it went above you. You who had stuck by him through thick and thin, who heard him cry out of frustration when the team made a decision not even then could comprehend; you who loved him for Charles and not il Predestinato. 

Sometimes you miss the past. It wasn’t always that you indulged in nostalgia, but when you did, it made you resent what your life has become. How could you not? Everywhere you went there was a reminder of all the things you had lost, all the little things you slowly left behind and now missed. 

You remember a time where talking about Ferrari was fun. When all was hush-hush and Charles had just signed his contract with the Scuderia, rambling on and on about all the things that could happen if he was on the team; from fulfilling his family’s dream to becoming a World Champion. Ferrari signified hope to Charles, so it was the same to you.

Now, Ferrari was the breaking point in your relationship. It wasn’t about ultimatums, you were almost certain that if it were you would have to pack your bags and start fresh somewhere else. No, this was about putting effort into a relationship, one that over time seemed to be one-sided.

Being home — if it could still be called that — was awkward and not like it once was. You watched Charles fumble around the kitchen as he pretended to cook, something he wasn’t fond of or good at. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many thoughts to be shared, and you would’ve kept them under lock and key if it weren’t for the fact that you were supposed to be spending time together.

It was unbearable to live with someone who you once knew so well and now was someone else entirely. The same could probably be said for you, but you knew that it didn’t matter how you changed, you love for Charles didn’t.

“I was thinking on going to Maranello on Friday.” Your boyfriend said, breaking the silence that loomed over you.

“What?”

“Yeah, get some stuff done. Just for the weekend, though.” You waited for Charles to turn around, to face the words he was saying. But once more, you are left behind in his plans: in his life.

“You’re not being serious, right?”

“Of course I am, Y/N.”

That was when he turned around. If there was something you rarely did was complain to him about his work trips, because most of the time you went him. But you knew that he knew that what he was telling you was outrageous.

“We have this one week to ourselves, Charles. You promised to leave work related stuff behind for one week.”

“I know that, but things came up.”

“Things came up? Come on, Charles.” You heard his exasperated sigh, now frustrated you weren’t bending to his wishes.

“Look, I’m sorry that me working to maintain the life we live is such an inconvenience for you.”

“I never complain about anything!” You exclaim, shaking your head at the absurdity of his words, “I’m your biggest supporter, Charles. I just wanted one week to enjoy ourselves.”

You hear pans clattering as he abandons his attempt at cooking, his attention now fully on you.

“This whole week is a distraction, and I can’t have distractions right now, Y/N.” There is a silence that builds the moment he says that, as you look at him you wonder when it was that all the time you spent together ended up in this.

“Oh, so I’m a distraction now?” You finally speak up, watching as the situation fully clicks for Charles. You watch him move from behind the kitchen counter, approaching you like a wounded animal.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You almost laugh at his words, you want to tear your hair out from your scalp from frustration.

“It’s not?” You ask, watching as he falters at the brashness of your words, “Because from what I see, Ferrari will always come first.”

He doesn’t say anything. Nothing to deny the claims you are making, and that is when you truly know. That despite the way you want to delude yourself that the current Charles is the same Charles you met all those years ago and fell in love with, you know that the man who stands before you is not him.

“You can’t even deny it! You are so far gone on this quest to make Ferrari the team you want them to be, that you’ve lost sight of everything else around you. Including me.”

You wait for him to say something, but nothing comes out of his mouth, nothing at all.

“Say something, Charles!”

“What do you want me to say? That me driving for Ferrari is the worst thing ever? Because I can’t.”

Despite the urge to cry you manage to keep your composure. You hope that the gloss in your eyes isn’t noticiable, that he doesn’t see how tired of your situation you are.

“If I don’t work with Ferrari, what do I have left?”

That is when a tear slips. That exact moment were he utters those dreaded words, is when you falter before him. His dismissal of your relationship breaks your heart, it breaks your heart that he believes Ferrari is all he is worth. As if he isn’t one of the best drivers on the Grid currently, as if there aren’t various teams interested in him if he wanted them.

“I don’t even recognise you anymore.” You whisper to him, watching as his posture tightens and the look in his eyes turns cold.

It is then when you truly know that there is no going back to who you once were. That your relationship, however much of it was left, is now over.

He takes a deep breath, dragging his hand down his face. His brows furrowed, considering what to do of the predicament his in.

“If you dislike who I am so much, leave.” Charles says with no remorse in his voice, no care for the fact that you have limited places to go to in Monaco. “Nobody is stopping, if this situation is so bad for you, leave.”

You watch him for a second, this time you don’t look for regret, you look for love. If you had more time in your hands you could probably dig some up, but you shouldn’t grasp at straws to find love. And so you do what he wants. Once more. But this time will be the last time.

With little fuss, little care, you grabbed your necessities that were laying around and left. Opening the door to leave his flat feels like relief.

It isn’t until you are standing in the street that you realise that all those years with Charles would now remain in the past. Forever frozen on what could’ve been if life were fair.

#*ੈ✩༄ my works ! #── my 2k celly #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 fanfic

[blaiddraws]

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for those who missed it, there were Two updates yesterday!

transcription of the journal page under the cut

xx/xx/18xx

Entry 1

Lady Irida suggested I begin to keep a journal, to ease my anxieties about my memory. I have elected to take her up on the offer to let me use this one.

Hello. My name is.. something. My memory fails me, so I have been going by the name "Emmet" in the meantime. [illegible]

I came to Hisui three weeks earlier than the current date. The Pearl Clan and Lady Sneasler found me wandering the wilderness. I would have likely... not survived, otherwise. The first thing I remember is waking up in the Settlement. (l am told they suspect I came from the Rift. The notion seems absurd, but who am I to argue?)

The clan has graciously taken me in, despite my strangeness-- the incomprehensible words and phrases, the odd ways I move my body, my mannerisms are almost fundamentally different than the residents of this land. I know they feel a sense of unease around me.

And yet, despite everything, they have chosen to take me in, to accept me. I am truly grateful for their actions.

Sincerely, Pearl Clan's newest member.

#i tried SO HARD. to keep it short and concise. but alas i cannot help that ingo is so WORDY #pokemon #submas #submas au #emmet #placeholder au

[thesamoanqueen]

Nothing left

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut, jealousy, errors.

A/N: As we said here, leave your hands at home.

She loved their room. Maybe she would take a picture to put on her phone, frame and look at in moments of despair, because she didn't want to get out of there.

With a deep breath, she took off her heels abandoning them under a chair, while already she slipped off her earrings and the whole package. Behind her, it took Roman longer just to close the door, but Y/N had already taken over the bathroom to fix her hair and change. It had been one of the busiest mornings of her life and it was absurd considering that for years she had followed the pace of two rosters during the PLEs and the weekly routine. She hadn't had to run around endless hallways that day, the headphones hadn't stuck to her ears, there hadn't been any change of plans, no one to call in hurry, staff and technicians had been helpful, even offering Y/N her favorite frozen mango lemonade smoothie. They were so nice, but she liked the hotel room better. She needed a break.

- Have you changed your mind? Is it not a good opportunity? - she heard Roman ask from the room, finishing unbuttoning her dress to replace it with something more cozy.

They were not talking about a four am program, he watched it too when at home.

- It's a great opportunity Ro, for the company and above all for you - she obviously noticed, receiving a strange look, when she came out of the bathroom - it will give you visibility, it will increase your stats, it will help establish you on a wider audience and that’s the long-term goal for the future, even if you will boycott it with your list.

Standing next to the table, Roman cracked a smile taking the blow as she lay back on the bed, laptop already open on her legs, in what in a few minutes had become her personal sprint to shut the rest of the world out for at least a couple of hours.

- Is that why you are not happy to go to the studio? For my list?

Oh no, she was happy about that. Everyone out there seemed unable to get him to talk about anything other than his titles. At least they had found a compromise to please the company while still supporting him as more than the face of WWE.

- You can make all the lists and smiles you want, to whoever you want, don't worry. Do your things - she reassured him, opening the report to be sent to the executives for the following day's appointment.

Biting the corner of her lip, fingers racing across the keyboard, she finished in record time with a couple of randomly thrown standard phrases too, but she couldn't concentrate quite as well on emails, Roman staring thoughtfully at her without moving from one inch.

- What's up? - she asked, however, avoiding taking her eyes off the screen.

- You're not jealous – he threw out of blue and Y/N took a break to look at him this time.

Of course she wasn't. She wasn't that kind of woman. She didn't make a scene, she didn't get angry, she had learned to distinguish who deserved her attention and her precious time, she had survived a year of nothing with her head high and had been repaid with a perfect relationship, she knew what value she had for him and what value she had herself. She didn't low down to those levels, they even joked, she had compiled a list of the most obscene and hilarious comments about him found on the web.

- What should I be jealous of? - she asked.

Because she was really curious to know what made him suspect that her desire to go back to the hotel, get the boring work done quickly to have some time to relax and maybe be ready for a night out in a city that offered a million opportunities to celebrate those small successes, without having to worry about shots, uncomfortable or trivial questions, suits and skintight dresses, people who treated her as if they had been homies and greeted him with hugs that not even their coworkers dared, was for jealousy.

His phone, lying on the table next to the welcome note, rang when Roman had just shook his head and Y/N knew that it would be the end if her eyes hadn't locked there for a second too long. And she also knew that he had noticed it, but they would have not talk about that nonsense. Because it was stupid, meaningless and she wasn't jealous.

She went back to work on her laptop, ignoring him as he reached out to pick it up and Y/N opened the email, ending up ignoring even the latest updated communications from the program for the following day and scrolling through it. Roman glanced at her again, quickly, but Y/N forced herself to stay focused until he left the phone to go to the bathroom too. She took a deep breath as soon as she was sure he was out of range and she mentally forced herself to regain control.

It had only been a moment, perhaps because of this new set-up, all those changes, she really had nothing to stop and think about. Even if that hug had been a bit too much and… no, she had to stop thinking about it!

When Roman came out with his inseparable tracksuit to lie down next to her, Y/N was still with her laptop, gaze focused on some shots sent as pre-show tests.

- I would never do it, you know – he reminded her after a few seconds of silence, making her stomach do a flip.

Yes, she knew it… she trusted Roman more than anyone and she never doubted him for a second. She hadn't even doubted that morning actually, she was just… annoyed, but not for him. The truth was that Y/N had only wanted to go back to the hotel because it was simpler and because she didn't feel right fighting with a woman like her, although perhaps she could have since it were her hands that had been on him longer than necessary. But practically nothing had happened and Roman had went back to Paul's side as soon as possible.

- I know, I'm not the jealous one here – she reminded to both him and herself, while he was playing with his watch.

She had also had a moment, yes, but him… oh, he was a league on his own! Y/N had stopped counting before they even decided to put a name to their relationship, the times it happened. It was pathological.

- I value what belongs to me. I don't take you for granted - he returted seriously, no doubt in his voice and Y/N found herself staring at the screen, her stomach freezing this time.

Roman was a man, not a boy. He knew how to take care, respect and support her, he treated her as the only thing that really mattered and what would have been a flaw on anyone else, on him looked terribly sexy. And she always fell for it, without exception. Especially after spending the morning, trying to fight off the mood at having seen too many hands on her man.

- You're unbearable when you do that – she snorted, closing the laptop to leave it on the bedside table and climb on Roman without hesitation.

With a smug grin, Roman helped her into position, eyes searching for her, as she reserved the same fate as her laptop for his watch, fighting then with the zipper of his hoodie.

- Don't you want to know what time is our reservation? – he chuckled hoarsely, hinting at the message received minutes before and helping her anyway when she quickly stripped him of his shirt as well, her hands sliding down his chest to stop on his shoulders.

- I already know, I chose it - she murmured against his mouth, biting his grin.

Jealousy was for those who lacked confidence, not for them. She wasn't jealous. In that relationship, born out of nowhere and raised between dates at unthinkable times, meetings in lockerooms and buses, calls and messages from everywhere, mental and physical breakdowns, nights spent sleeping and mornings of sex followed by doubts, she shared more than the path with Roman. She had discovered that she was as possessive as he was, because she valued, them. What they were building together was everything to her and she wasn't willing to lose it or let someone ruin it.

She felt Roman hold her, hands sliding up her hips, keeping her pressed against him, as they deepened their sloppy kiss and Y/N ran her fingers over his chest. The rapid beat of his heart slammed under her fingertips, warmth surrounding and encouraging her to move, grinding against his pants which she had merely undone. He was solid beneath her, ready to let her control even though his tongue had already won their fight. Knowing that he belonged to her, to have power over him, to be the only one to have his attention and to be able to have him like no one else out there thought was an injection of confidence that excited and pushed her to reclaim what belonged to her and her only.

His big hands had worked their way through her soft clothes, stroking her hips, touching her skin, ass, eyes glued to hers as she slowly traced every inch of his torso after pulling away from the kiss. With the taste of him still in her mouth, she reached down to kiss one pec and then the other, working her way up to his neck, his beard pinching her cheeks as she licked the jugular then bit his ear, feeling him pull her up to place her on his boner now awake. She rocked on top of him, feeling him hard against her center, his hands moving up under her shirt lifting her breasts and hers going down instead, moving his pants down. Slowly biting the skin of his neck, Y/N took it in her hand, squeezing his meat just enough to feel Roman stiffen, his breath catching in his throat, her tongue stopping under his ear, merely tasting his skin, sensing the blood pressure without marking him.

- I don't need to do it… - she whispered, nail scratching his already wet tip -...not this time either... -she added, rubbing up and down until she drew a hot breath from him - ... right? - she asked, placing an innocent kiss on his full lips before leaning down and taking something else into her mouth.

A low, rough growl filled the room as she ran her tongue over his vein, feeling the flesh throb, the taste of it overpowering as she slid it against her palate until it touched her throat, in that one smooth motion she'd been busy to learn. She liked the feel of it pulsing against her tongue, his hand gripping her hair and indulging in the slow movement of her head, before curling into a needy caress as he struggled to fight the instinctive thrusts. Y/N loved seeing him close his eyes, his breathing getting heavy every time her lips licked the tip, sucking out all the air in his lungs to make him pulse.

-Ain't going anywhere babygirl – Roman panted, licking his lips, biting the lower one when she slid her fingers over the sensitive skin to scratch and free him – do what you want-

She let it slam against his bare stomach, a trail of spit and precum dripping onto his skin, those dark curls driving her crazy. Getting up on her knees, Y/N locked her eyes on him and threw away the extra clothes, remaining only with the shirt that soon ended up covering him too, when she slipped it into her soft hot folds. Her body greeted him with an almost sigh of relief which he returned low and dangerous, their bodies warming and melting like every time they did it.

She had fucked every kind of man in her life. But with Roman it wasn't even sex, with him it had always been more than that. Everything in him seemed made to slip inside her and mix, it was a loss of consciousness, something shared back, something unique that made her feel at peace, in her place. Her place was with him and his with her.

Nails digging into his torso, she slowly, unhurriedly rocked her hips, his now-rigid erection spreading her deeply, never letting go as her butt lifted.

- Mmh… keep it slow, like that… yes, thats it – he approved hoarsely and Y/N reversed the movement, guiding him inside her in that weak gasp which was setting both of them on fire.

Her caramel skin itched, thighs taut and soon her shirt became a torture, one Roman took care to make worse by sliding his hands down her side, catching a dark nipple between his fingers to turn it over and make her moan with a cry. Y/N ducked a little, her center filled with his flesh, as she flattened against him resting where someone else's hands had been that morning. Her mind clouded by the arousal brought back the memory, clear and her hips instinctively moved, without increasing the pace, only deepening the thrusts until Roman slammed against her sweet spongy spot.

They could make jokes, imagine, try even, but no one would have what she had. No one would feel him tightening his grip on her hips, throb from the grips of her body, know what it was like to burn, as the sweat trickled down her back, between her shoulder blades and up to the curve of her round ass from his thrusts or the kisses he left on her skin. No one would see the bleary, hungry gaze he gave her as her eyes lowered to seek him, the heat building more and more at the bottom of her belly.

- You're so good for me… so good inside me… ahn!

- Take it… le-mme hear those pretty sounds yes

His hand slid under her shirt again, this time without searching for her breast, his thumb digging into her wet folds, where their bodies joined to rotate slowly around the button of nerves she had rubbed against him until that moment. The contact sent a sharp shiver on her body, and Y/N dropped her head back, moans becoming almost cries as her back arched, giving Roman more room. Everything in her was burning, relentlessly, slowly, consuming her down to her toes, making her melt on him in a mess of moods and sweat. With an effort from his abs, Roman sat up, a big strong arm sliding behind her, pulling her close to him, his finger moving slowly and forcefully between her folds. The desire to kiss him made her almost cling to his neck, getting up again a little on her knees, helping him in that last run that had filled the whole room with their smell and the sound of their bodies clashing. One thrust, another, like a carousel she never wanted to get off, until the heat became too much and Y/N felt it explode suddenly, making her squeeze around Roman's stiff shaft, letting his name rush desperately from her lips to be swallowed up by the kisses he never spared.

There was nothing left in her mind, except that feeling of peace and satisfaction that only being with him could give her, that drained and recharged her as soon as his arms tightened around her, when her body welcomed his limitless lunges and his seed, which filled her like a mark that no one else had granted and that no one else but her deserved.

She rested her cheek in his hair, his face buried in the crook of her neck in an embrace that was everything to her. New York and its frantic pace couldn't take that away from her. Nobody could do it.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @angelreigns444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @wrestlezaynia @reignmyworld @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld @jeonmahi1864 @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @joanoai @southerngirl41 @blkbutterfly816

#roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #roman reigns oneshot

[qiutls]

TNGDH 001

I became a hamster. No wonder I thought I was hearing squeaks last night, it turned out to be like this. Shiny golden fur that doesn’t lose its light even in the dark. Four lovely pink-tinted feet. Long whiskers that twitch whenever I move my cheeks. The black curtains flutter and the light leaks in from the steel cage hitting my eyes. Wait a minute… a steel… cage? A cage?! ― Eek. (Why?) I didn’t just become a hamster. I became a hamster that’s been trapped somewhere. * Thud. Thud. Thud. The cage I was in suddenly shook heavily and my small body rolled around in different directions as the cage kept moving. Who is it?! Who the hell drives like this?! Can’t you drive safely! Thump. My body sways to the corner again and I feel my butt stinging from falling too many times. Then I heard a horse sniffing, it felt thrilling to think that I was going to ride a horse. However, it only felt thrilling for a bit before I thought, It seems like I’m gonna be meeting King Yeomra. King Yeomra is the King of the underworld, hamster thinks he'll die because of the cage being shaken. Where the hell are we going? Why did I become a hamster? And why the hell are we not riding a bus or a train, but riding a horse? This is unfair, I feel so wronged. It’s so absurd that I have to explain, it’s so obvious that I’m a human not a hamster! That’s right I’m human! Bae Soohyun. I’m turning 27 this year. Even though my life was like a thorny path, I am a small mugwort that didn’t give up and kept living. It was a life where it seemed like I kept working day, night, dawn, early in the morning, from Monday to Tuesday to Wednesday to Thursday to Friday to Friday to Friday… But I had no doubt that my hard work would pay off. After years of hard work, it seems the day has finally come. The day when the game I developed became a big hit. I think it’s dead. Dead… That’s right… I died. After the earlier confusion of becoming a hamster has passed, my memories slowly started to come back. The game became popular and it felt like the son I was raising finally became successful. I was finally able to receive the first batch of settlement money thanks to the game. I rushed back home feeling so happy that I could fly. Rattle. The cage suddenly shook as the horse started moving. And I started shaking back and forth, my head felt like it was going to pop and my eyes slowly lost shine as I felt dizzier and dizzier. Are you kidding me?! I kicked the cage a few times hoping for the shaking to stop and then heard a voice not so distant. “I’m sorry.” An unfamiliar, deep yet friendly voice. “Just endure it for a little bit more.” But why did it feel like I’ve heard this line somewhere before. I’m sorry, just endure it for a little bit more. I’ll take you to your new home soon. It suddenly came to mind. While walking at the crossing on my way home, I bumped into a child who seemed anxious while carrying a hamster cage, then a car hit my body. I instinctively felt my death then, all my senses were occupied by the fact that I was hit by a car, and my consciousness started fading away. Twinkle. In front of my eyes something glistened brightly. Wait a minute, what’s that blue thing… [ Hello World! ] I was stunned by the blue system filling up my field of vision. A familiar phrase, the most basic sentence someone with programming knowledge would know. This is the very first phrase you learn to code when you start programming. Then, several windows came up one after another.

[ Connection confirmed. Checking data. ] [ Determining quest. ] [ Calculating miracle value. ] [ Synchronization not complete. Please wait. ] [ Synchronization 0% complete. ] What does this mean? Data? Quest? Synchronization? Since the moment I woke up, this ridiculous situation started and kept going, I didn’t even get the chance to be surprised. While in a daze, the horse which had been rattling the cage non-stop suddenly fell silent and the owner of the voice earlier seemed to get off the horse. The tumultuous movement stopped, but I still felt nauseous. The cold wind blew into the cage, and I shivered. Suddenly, I heard another distant voice. “Your Highness, are you sure you don’t want to throw it out?” Your… Highness? First I rode a horse, now someone’s talking to a royal. These are words that you wouldn’t even hear in 21st century Korea. The term “Your Highness” is only something I heard as a child watching sageuk dramas. Then the deep voice I heard earlier replied. Sageuk is a k-drama genre in which characters wear historical costumes. “It’s a pup that was left alone by the horde, don’t you feel it’s a bit pitiful?” pup - baby hamster / horde - group of baby hamsters “What pity, Your Highness? It’s a child of a demonic beast, when it grows up,it will learn to seduce its prey.” I looked down at my small and round body, what do you mean seduce? Is this body even capable of seducing? In the first place, I’m not even a demonic beast, just a normal hamster, no I mean human! Heh, you’re quite convincing using that serious voice of yours, but you’re obviously joking! The man with the deep voice suddenly cut through my thoughts. “It’s still a child.” “A child of a demonic beast, Your Highness.” “That’s right, a child.” “Your Highness, the most important thing is that it’s a demonic beast!” That… Can you please stop referring to me as a child. It’s weird… While I was grumbling away my frustrations, I heard the man speak, this time anger laced his voice. “Are you questioning my decision?” He spoke words that could normally be taken lightly yet the way he enunciated it word by word felt like a threat, and that there was only one correct answer. “No, Your Highness, I was just momentarily confused since such a thing has never happened before. How dare I question the Grand Prince’s decision.” “Right. So, I’ll take care of it, surely you don’t think I am weaker than a demonic beast that’s barely the size of my fist?” You’re telling me he’s not just a royal, he’s the Grand Prince? “I already sent a man to the estate to prepare it's house, it would be fun to add little ornaments with it.” “Your Highness, you can also raise a real hamster, should I tell the man to prepare another one?” “No. Don’t test my patience.” “…Yes” This person is quite stubborn huh.

Soon the cage started shaking again, this time as the man walked, I could hear his armor rattling and his heavy footsteps rang. Then I felt the air around me get warmer little by little as he marched up the stairs.

It must be winter. Yet I died during summer, now I realize the abnormality of the situation. The man took me to a room and then removed the cloth covering the cage.

“Here we are.” I crouched in a corner and pretended to be asleep desperately. Somehow it felt like the smart thing to do, I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to tell him about my situation. Even if I told him, who’s to say he will not decapitate me for spewing nonsense.

How did my life become like this! Give me back my money! My skills! My future that was unfolding brilliantly! “Tsk. Tsk.” The man clicked his tongue, then he sighed deeply. Hey! I’m the one who’s supposed to be sad at this situation, why are you the one clicking your tongue! Ah, I really hate when people do that… Oh right, I was pretending to be asleep… Sleep… “Does it really not have a human heart?” He murmured.

What human heart? What is he talking about? “Looking at these naive eyes, before it turned into a demonic beast, did it really not have the heart of a human?” N-naive? Which eyes looked naive? Surely it’s not mine? “That’s right, for them there’s no such thing as compassion... Did I stay away from the North for too long? It’s no different from a glacier, it’s freezing. Tsk.” Suddenly, the man opened the cage, stretched out his hand and caught me in his palm.

― Eek! I was so surprised I forgot I was pretending to sleep, as I opened my eyes, I made eye contact with him.

[ 50% synchronized. ]

[ Kyle Jane Minehardt. Great Duke of Blake. ]

The blue system window showed up below his face. Hold on, this name, I’ve heard of it somewhere. Without knowing what was in my head the whole time, he raised me closer to his face. I felt his warm hand full of scars and calluses against my soft fur. Then he rubbed my cheek.

E-excuse me?! “You did well enduring the ride home, cashew nut, you must’ve been bored the whole way.” Bored? The ride was full of shock and horror for me, okay?! Wait, aside from that, can’t you put me down first? What the hell is this situation, why did you suddenly remove me from the cage… Wait! No! Don’t peck me! ― Squeak! Eek!  [ Let me go! ]

“Yes, yes, I know how you feel.” What do you know… You don’t understand a thing! Ack! Why’s he kissing me like he’s dying of love! A kiss… ― Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!  [ You bastard! What kind of dog kisses nonstop like you?! ]

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” ― Squeak! [ Get lost! ] “Did you like being kissed?” I can’t take this anymore!

Wait a minute… This face… I took a moment to observe all his features, his pale yet tough complexion, distinct eyebrows, his hair that’s dark as a raven, his eyes which glowed crimson. A cold and resolute beauty.

― Eek! [ Grand Duke Blake ] I remember. The Duke of the North, Kyle. A supporting actor from the novel, The Heart of Winter, I always read while traveling to and from my company. Not only was he a supporting actor, he’s a supporting actor that dies in the middle of the novel. A man who’s life was miserable from start to finish, yet died with no regrets. The reason why I remember him, and not the protagonists of the story, was that he’s the unluckiest character in the novel. He was unlucky to the extent that I lamented his cold fate many times.

So, I died, and transmigrated into a novel? “Cashew nut?” Cashew nut, my name, I mean the name of the hamster’s body I’m occupying. Kyle stared at me, he seemed to be worried as if something went wrong. His gaze was warm and full of kindness.

Stop looking at me! This bastard, you’re gonna pierce through me with that stare! I’m just worn out… I flicked my head away from his stare, and turned back to glare at him. I tried my hardest to look as mean as possible.

“That look…” It’s scary right?! You’re so afraid you could die, right? I look like a dangerous demon, don’t I?! So put me down!!! You kiss crazed bastard! [ Cold and strict personality. Clean and thorough. Frigid and Merciless. ] “You look so cute, staring at me like that.” Aren’t you the cold blooded Duke of the North?! Let go of me! What do you mean cold and strict?! What merciless? ― Squeak! [ Let go! ]

Yet the Duke didn’t let me down for a long time and I had to put up with the crazy kisses the he bestowed.

Help me, please! Save this hamster!

novel ⠀✿⠀ next

#TNGDH

[kazamajun]

Did Kazumi want Kazuya killed?

I like Kazumi a lot as a character. Her design and music themes are bangers. One thing just always bothered me though, how she seemingly loved Kazuya but then requested that Akuma kill him back when he was only five years old. So I did a little investigating to try and make sense of it, rewatching both the story mode and intros and old trailers, and what I turned up was quite interesting.

Evidence for:

Akuma's pov flashback where Kazumi says "Kill him for me... And also... Kazuya..."

Akuma seems to believe it's what she wanted, and is how he interpreted the promise to Kazumi.

Evidence against:

The wording and phrasing is questionable. "Kill him" ... "and also" - why not just say "kill them" if she meant both? Additionally, ellipses are most often used to indicate omissions of words. What is being cut out?

This is perhaps answered where we get a more fleshed out version of the scene, like the 2014 SDCC trailer. The same footage is also in Japanese here, if you'd rather spare yourself the English dub. Transcription of dialogue: "If I die, if I can't stop Heihachi, then you must do it for me." "Kazuya? That boy is still too young. And Heihachi will soon realize that he was born with my powers. Heihachi is more powerful than you realize. Who knows what Heihachi will do to Kazuya or to countless others? It is up to me. I must stop Heihachi." "Even if this power consumes me and kills me in the process." No mention of killing Kazuya, in fact she seems concerned for his welfare. Why worry about him like this if she's asking for him to be killed? Evo 2014 reveal trailer transcription: "You're here. That must mean the time has come. Kazuya? I must stop him. I must stop Heihachi. By now I'm sure that Heihachi has realized he was born with my powers." Similar to the SDCC one, just shorter, as this one came out first. And again the same implication that she's worried about Kazuya's fate. From the PS4 opening cinematic: "My beloved Heihachi will inevitably engulf the world in war and destruction resulting in the loss of many innocent lives." No Kazuya mention at all.

Kazuya himself does not seem to believe it. He calls it absurd and laughs, and in the final confrontation with Heihachi, Kazumi's theme plays towards the end of this whole sequence. Also while not in the story mode; in the opening cinematic (and also in the trailers linked above) Kazuya says "You killed my mother!" before their fight, indicating that he is avenging her.

Kazumi has a reason for wanting Heihachi dead. The Hachijos sent her there as a 'sleeper agent' of sorts to take Heihachi out if he became a threat to the world, which he does after killing Jinpachi and taking control of the Zaibatsu. Kazuya, being a five year old, is no such threat obviously. It does not make any logical sense. If the Hachijos were in the habit of killing their own offspring, their lineage wouldn't go far. And if him being Heihachi's son was the concern, why even have him? Additionally, she genuinely loved Kazuya, something even Heihachi admits. Either way, a young child does not fit the profile of the 'scum' that the Hachijo apparently try to wipe out.

Miscellaneous:

Heihachi seems not to believe it initially; although his reason for questioning it is purely the passage of time as Akuma waited over 40 years to fulfill this promise.

A potential thought as to why Kazuya was perhaps not mentioned as one of Akuma's targets in the other cinematics occurred to me as perhaps it being a plot point that they wanted to keep under wraps, but this was easily debunked by the story trailer a few months before the console release, showing the fight between Kazuya and Akuma. There is also a showdown between them in a 2016 trailer that matches neither of the story mode battles.

If Kazumi thought that Kazuya needed to be killed, she could theoretically have done it herself, easily. After her illness that activated her devil gene, Heihachi believed she was not in control of herself and she supposedly never remembered her attacks on him after she went back to 'normal'. And yet, during those times, her target was only ever Heihachi. If Kazuya was supposedly a threat to be ended too - why did that never happen when she lost control?

Late addition/edit: In Akuma's reveal trailer, the wording is altered again to "And also unfortunately, my dear son Kazuya" but this line is said AFTER Akuma has made the promise to Kazumi to repay his debt. And again, it is vague. Unfortunately Kazuya what? Unlike all the lines re Heihachi, she never actually says he must die. A potential reading of this could be that Kazumi felt Kazuya would be better off dead than suffering whatever Heihachi would do to him -- but then, if the goal was a mercy killing, waiting 40 years after the damage has already been done makes NO sense.

Conclusion:

It is my personal evaluation that Akuma most likely misinterpreted Kazumi's words (or perhaps misremembers them as it's been decades - hence why the dialogue in the flashback is an abrupt and chopped-up handful of words vs the more extensive scene seen elsewhere) and that her wish was for Heihachi to be taken down for the sake of the world, and her son. Akuma, being who he is, would lean towards interpreting any kind of ambiguity as referring to violence and death.

In an out of character sense, the vibe I get is that originally Akuma's hit list was only supposed to be Heihachi but at some point late in development they decided they wanted to have a Kazuya vs Akuma fight added in too hence that no-context bit in the 2016 trailer that doesn't match any scenes in the actual final story; and then the mangled flashback of Akuma's happens in the story mode to facilitate the fights that happen in the final version of the game.

But in an ic sense, Akuma misinterpreting Kazumi seems the most likely to me. I don't think he was deliberately lying, his vibe is sincere enough and he calls her Kazumi-dono which shows great respect. IMO, it's good to remember that characters can be wrong about things sometimes and that just because they believe something that doesn't necessarily mean that it is true.

#val talks tekken #guess it was time i made a tag for these specific rambles #i watched every single trailer i could find even ones not mentioned in this post bc they didn't have any kazumi lines #genuinely i tried to be unbiased here and the more i researched the more the math just wasn't mathing to be honest #also kaz being an unbothered king that loves his mom and avenges her even after being told something horrific. personally i love to see it. #meta #tekken

[shakespearenews]

In 2019, Sandra Hüller, one of Germany’s foremost stage and film actors, starred as Hamlet in a production at the Schauspielhaus Bochum, in the Ruhr Valley. For most performers, the part is challenge enough. But as Hüller prepared for the role with the theatre’s artistic director, Johan Simons, their discussions kept drifting to the character who animates Hamlet’s fantasies of revenge: his father’s ghost. In most stagings, ghastly makeup and lighting convey that the character is spectral. Could this lingering spirit be conjured without melodramatic clichés? Simons and Hüller agreed that it would be potent for the father to rise from within the son—speaking through him. As Simons recently described the conceit, “The father is so deep in your soul that you can’t get away from him—he is always in you.”

In the opening scene of the modern-dress, German-language production, Hüller stood alone onstage, her hands hanging uselessly by her sides, her eyes downcast. In a trembling near-whisper, she spoke lines that Shakespeare originally wrote for Hamlet’s friend Horatio: “If there be any good thing to be done, / That may to thee do ease and grace to me, / Speak to me.” Hüller smiled faintly to hold back tears, and her voice broke as she muttered, “You are here, you are here.”

When it came time for Hamlet’s encounter with the Ghost, an eerie chord resounded, and Hüller’s soft, breathy voice suddenly dropped an octave. She was no longer Hamlet, or not entirely. “Pity me not!” Hüller said, her eyes hardening and her voice quickening as she channelled the Ghost: “I am thy father’s spirit, / Doom’d for a certain term to walk the night, / And for the day confined to fast in fires, / Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature / Are burnt and purged away.” As Hüller played it, Hamlet wasn’t seeing a ghost; he was being possessed by it. Hüller’s previously gentle demeanor was displaced by lurching motion, and when the Ghost furiously commanded his son’s obedience—“List, list, O, list!” in Shakespeare’s original—she practically vomited up the words: “Hör, hör, o, hör! ”

The scene was as scary to watch as any horror movie, but it also felt profound: the sins of the old were literally infecting the bodies of the young, emphasizing the generational rot at the heart of the play. German critics hailed Hüller’s performance as revelatory—not just as an examination of character but as an exploration of the capacities of stage art. Der Spiegel said that witnessing Hüller wrestle with Hamlet and the Ghost simultaneously was like watching “an exorcism.”

Before the show opened, Hüller read an essay that portrayed “Hamlet” as a critique of the conventions of Renaissance revenge tragedy—and of the society from which those conventions emerged. “Shakespeare wrote the play at the edge of these times when blood revenge was still a thing,” she told me recently. “Shakespeare’s showing it one more time, but in the most absurd way—because everybody’s dead at the end. The play is saying, ‘This can’t be the way.’ ” At the Schauspielhaus Bochum, the climactic duel between Hamlet and Laertes swerved away from physical violence: neither combatant would make the first move. Instead, Hüller and Dominik Dos-Reis, the actor playing Laertes, hurled the phrase “fang an”—“start”—back and forth, battling not just each other but the demand for a bloody confrontation. The moment culminated, as it does in Shakespeare’s text, in an unexpected gesture of forgiveness. “They shake hands before they die, and say, ‘We don’t want to be like our fathers,’ ” Hüller said. “And, to me, that is something that applied to the world as it is now. That seemed to be something that I could identify with. Not to redo all the things that our ancestors have done before but to change them—to break the chain.”

Hüller liked that the production showed the effect of violence without actually showing violence. “When you show violence, I believe, it must have a strong form,” she told me. “You can’t treat it like any other sort of narrative in a story. It means something when you show a rape onstage, or when somebody gets slapped in the face onstage. It is crossing a line.” Her voice, usually soft, shifted to a more forceful register. “I have heard a lot of directors point out, ‘Yeah, but that’s what’s in the story,’ ” she continued. “I know what’s in the story. But still, I can decide, because I am the artist, what to show of it, and what not. I can decide how I want to shape the world that we are building onstage.”

#Sandra Hüller #hamlet #theater #theatre #actors #acting #ghosts #fathers #staging #new yorker

[iheartgod175]

Bugs Bunny — Warmonger

His very name strikes fear into the hearts of the most hardened warrior. Crimson and gold tear through all in his path, unmatched in its strength, and unrelenting in its power and fury. Celestial Warrior, Warmonger, descends upon the battlefield.

Bugs Bunny was a household name that was revered amongst comedians in Acmeville, and beloved by many. And one wouldn’t be blamed for being awestruck by him—his easygoing trickster nature would draw one to him like bees, something his greatest rivals would begrudgingly admit. Get to know him personally, and he’s the best friend one could have. Draw his ire, and no force in nature will stop him from getting his revenge, however creative and absurd it may be.

Yes, Bugs Bunny was a household name. Keyword was.

The world’s most famous star was caught up in a freak explosion in Acmeville’s business district, of which his co-star, Daffy Duck, was the only survivor. Theories ran rampant and multiple searches were conducted, but all came back negative, and everyone in the world came to accept the worst as pure fact. The world mourned the death of Bugs Bunny while simultaneously blaming Daffy for the buck’s death, accusing him of foul play. And while justice is still being pursued, the world moved on as more chaotic incidents forced them to turn their attention elsewhere. Still, some of his most rabid fans believe that he was still alive, and that no mere explosion could kill him. They believe that he’s laying in low and pursuing the person who tried to kill him, as Bugs wasn’t one who would let an attempt on his life go unchallenged.

As Droop-a-Long Coyote would learn, those rabid fans had a few things right, and they got a few things wrong.

Bugs Bunny did, in fact, die that day—but the reasons for his death weren’t as cut and dry as people believed.

Bugs Bunny was, in fact, alive, having come back from death as a pure Celestial warrior. Revived by arcane arts that are beyond human comprehension, it resulted in one of the most powerful Celestials known to mankind, with an Imperium Crystal that craves blood. Though already feared for his creative methods of retaliation, his masterful use of one of the few complete relics in the world—Dáinsleif, which was sought by many—and his Astral Skill, Flare Stealer, makes him a menace. While Dáinsleif draws its power from the blood of the innocent, his Astral Skill gives him the ability to steal Imperium Mana directly from an Imperium Crystal, effectively draining their heart. This essentially makes him a vampire, for he needs the Imperium Crystals of the innocents to keep him alive.

And yes, he was pursuing the person who killed him…but his path to justice meant leaving a trail of blood in his wake, something that he never would have done in his earthly body.

Droop-a-Long Coyote would meet his childhood hero in the worst way possible, learning that the “Bugs Bunny” he grew up with now only existed in the past. The Bugs Bunny he grew up with never had a soulless look in his eyes. The Bugs Bunny he grew up with never wore such armor. The Bugs Bunny he grew up with never wielded a sword so magnificently terrifying it froze him in place. The Bugs Bunny he knew could give his adversaries a thrashing—but “thrashing” seemed too gentle of a word to describe what the buck did to Avenger I, to Titan, and even Reaper.

That became the least of his concerns as the being formerly known as Bugs Bunny turned upon him, arcane flames dancing across his shoulder to heal the hit that Droop-a-Long had, by dumb luck, inflicted on him. Emerald green eyes, once soulless, were now alive and gleaming with intense rage. If speaking alone could kill someone, he would’ve dropped the moment he heard the phrase that lent to his new name, the phrase that signaled a terrible end for the one who wronged him—

“Of course you realize, this means war.”

—

I LIVE AGAIN!

Now, don’t worry, I will do a proper profile for Warmonger when I get the chance. I just don’t have the time because I’m gonna head into work in a few, and the length of this profile is gonna be the same as the Second Styles for both Super Why and Princess Presto (in other words, a freakin’ essay), so I’ll have to put it off until this weekend!

But anyway—LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT HOW BADASS HE IS. I was going for the “edgy anti villain” angle for Bugs, and it came out perfectly. I was trying to avoid doing black and red, but since Huck had black, lavender and purple and Ric has black, orange and amber/brown, I figured it’d make sense ^^ Plus the color scheme suits him really well!

Make no mistake, Bugs is one of the most broken characters in the cast—with a name like Warmonger, would you expect anything less?—and is able to wipe the floor with Huck, Yogi and Ricochet easily. But there’s a reason behind it, though, a reason that will be revealed in the upcoming profile!

I was half tempted to start numbering this like I did with the Einherjar Files and the Attero Dominatus Files, but I wanted to get Huck, Ricochet and Yogi done before I start in on this profile. And yes, I started out of order. BUT I DON’T CARE. Lol. XD

That’s all I’ll have to say for the time being, but I hope you love this piece as much as I loved working on it!

Big thanks to user @zero06iranosaurusrex for their awesome takes on Bugs, which inspired this!

#looney tunes #bugs bunny #fan art #my art #fanfic: the celestials’ guardian #character profile #character design #This is still one of my faves #hanna-barbera #Hanna-Barbera tag is for the fic itself haha

[persianflaw]

❛ are you wearing my shirt? ❜ (beejhawk)

OKAY SO THIS TURNED OUT CONSIDERABLY LESS PORNOGRAPHIC THAN I'D INTENDED, I HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT

cut is primarily for length but it gets ~suggestive~ so be careful if you're opening this on a subway or something

-

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

BJ looked down, still slipping his legs into his pants. He was wearing the same olive drab cotton he wore every single day. “How should I know?”

Hawkeye pointed an accusatory finger. “When you stretched, I saw a hole in the left armpit. That’s my hole. I’ve been meaning to sew that up for a few weeks.”

“So I’ll put it with your laundry at the end of the day. Here, take one of mine if it matters that much to you.” BJ grabbed a semi-folded shirt out of his trunk and tossed it at Hawkeye, who caught it deftly in one hand.

“No, no, no,” said Hawkeye, tossing it back. “You’re not getting out of this. I want my shirt back.”

BJ’s expression was incredulous. “You can’t seriously be arguing with me about an identical shirt. Not just that, a worse identical shirt!”

Hawkeye laughed triumphantly. “So you admit it! You admit it’s not identical!”

“Hawkeye, why on Earth should I care whose shirt this is? We all dress the same anyway, I’m sure our laundry gets mixed up all the time, how can this possibly matter to you?!”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” Hawkeye exclaimed, not quite at a shouting level but nearly.

“And what principle would that be, exactly?” 

“It’s mine and I want it back.”

“You’re absurd,” said BJ, sitting on the end of his cot as he put on his socks. “I’m not arguing about this anymore.” He knew it would be substantially easier to just give Hawkeye the damn shirt back, especially when he was clearly in one of his strange moods. But he was already wearing it, and he was practically done getting dressed, and anyway Hawkeye needed to learn that he couldn’t always get his way.

If he hadn’t expected a hand fisting in the back of his shirt, tugging him backwards onto his cot, well, more fool him. 

He tried to sit up, only for Hawkeye to flop on top of him, trapping him in place as he straddled his hips. Of course BJ could have pushed him off, but being taken by surprise meant he just laid there instead, too shell-shocked to do anything as Hawkeye yanked at the fabric of the shirt, gleefully shouting, “Gimme gimme gimme!” like an overgrown child. Even after he got his senses back and started trying to squirm away, protesting fruitlessly, he was unsuccessful; Hawkeye had him too thoroughly pinned.

And, well, it had been a while, obviously, with Peg being thousands of miles away, and his dreams last night had been on the stimulating side, so he had already been feeling his oats a little that morning, so to speak. And he was a red-blooded adult man, so it was perfectly natural that he might start to stir a little, what with the squirming and the warm, solid weight across his hips and the groping at his chest. (Hawkeye still isn’t wearing a shirt, piped up a small part of his brain that was immediately, ruthlessly silenced by the rest of it.) BJ tried to speak up, to warn Hawkeye, to tell him to get off, but all that came out was a strangled little noise.

Hawkeye stopped dead, his eyes wide as saucers. Too late, BJ realized that the noise he had just made was in the same vein as the noises he made at night, the ones he tried to only make when he thought Hawkeye and Charles were asleep, but which he knew that they had surely heard once or twice and simply not mentioned anything, as roommates did. Which was fine; BJ himself had politely pretended to sleep through a lot of rustling and little noises (or not-so-little noises, as was frequently the case with Hawkeye). But it was a piece of information he really wished Hawkeye didn’t have at that moment.

“I, uh,” Hawkeye said, stumbling over his words, “I’ll just, uh. Get up.” He lifted up off of BJ’s hips and swung a leg over, which served the dual purposes of getting him off – oh God, that phrasing wasn’t helping anything – and inadvertently bringing his leg into contact with, well. BJ made another noise that made him wish he could reach out and grab the individual soundwaves out of the air before anyone else could hear them. Hawkeye scrambled the rest of the way off of his lap, almost falling to the floor in his haste.

BJ sat up slowly, cautiously. He knew he should finish getting dressed and head over to the mess tent before his shift in post-op, but all he wanted to do was crawl under his blankets and hide for at least a week, if not the rest of the war. Getting worked up over a little roughhousing – not even really roughhousing, just being sat on and pawed at for a minute! – was a new low. He needed to take a cold shower. Or, he thought as he didn’t watch the muscles in Hawkeye’s back play under his skin as he pulled on a shirt, maybe a very long, hot one.

Hawkeye had turned his back to BJ, facing the doorway, but he turned his head to the side to address him. “You can, uh. You can keep the shirt. Fits you better anyway.”

#ask #remyfire #sentence starter ask meme #mash #hawkeye pierce #bj hunnicutt #beejhawk #hunnihawk #THESE WERE ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 300 WORDS.... #my writing

[first-rule-of-clown-club]

Nonverbal.

This is the word that professionals, parents, and MANY neurodivergent people use for themselves when they find themselves unable to talk, or, yk, verbalize stuff.

If you look up nonverbal, like the definition, on Google, just about every entry will say something along the lines of "unable to verbalize or use speech to communicate".

Nowhere does it explicitly say that you have to be unable to speak...forever.

So uh...what's the deal, tumblr?

Like. Listen. I am autistic. I'm professionally diagnosed with ASD. I also have direct family members who have ASD. And literally for as long as I've known about autism, and specifically nonverbal as a term, it's been used to describe anybody who lacks the ability to verbally communicate. For any amount of time.

Recently, someone, idk who, came to me on tumblr, and all but told me that to call myself nonverbal was ableist. They said that nonverbal as a term is used explicitly for people who aren't EVER able to talk.

They told me to use the phrase "speech loss" instead.

Initially I was off put by this. Speech loss. I mean I guess that is technically a way of phrasing it, and I don't really want to be ableist, so... sure. Why not.

But the more I thought about it, the more absurd it started to seem. Speech loss?? Speech loss?????

It's such a mouthful. Doesn't roll off the tongue like at all. I have speech issues even when I CAN verbalize and even just this little thing makes trying to talk about my issues frustrating enough that I don't want to do it.

And for what?

It's the same thing. It's literally the same thing. Both are periods in which an individual is physically or mentally unable to communicate verbally or in any spoken form. (Surprise, I don't get to choose when or for how long I experience "speech loss".) It is still a LACK of verbal communication. By definition....

It's still nonverbal.

I also recently was able to talk to someone else about this issue! And it hit me how chronically online this cold take is. Like, I'm sorry, but no professionals are calling it "speech loss". That's an internet (specifically tumblr) born issue. People in real life, in the real world that actually matters, aren't calling it "speech loss".

I also heard from that individual that some people are pushing to call it "nonspeaking episodes"...which is even worse/more clunky than speech loss. Why would you suggest that. People with ASD commonly struggle with speech. This is just an added frustration.

And like not only does that tell me that people aren't considering how it actually sounds irl (probably bc nobody irl is using either), it also shows that...it isn't even like. A widespread or known thing. Bc its a new issue that some jokers made up for some reason!! Like it's not even coordinated enough for there to just be one overcomplicated word for it.

So this is my little psa.

Stop saying it's ableist. It's not. Stop saying it's inaccurate. It's not.

If you or a loved one has been told that it is, it's not. You need not consider that fact any longer. It was honest to goodness probably someone looking to stir up drama.

We don't need any more division in the community, especially over something that...literally is a non-issue. Nonverbal people are all valid nonverbals. Leave em be.

#actually autistic #asd #autistic community #autistic culture #autism discourse #personal post #important #dizzycourse

[hiso03]

I don't know why, making hal's dad abusive and also the main reason he doesn't feel fear is cuz the guardian removes his ability to feel fear is kinda a disservice to his character, and imo he actually more like a wooby that all

his ability to overcome fear is really interesting on its own and idk man

Lately I feel like they're trying to take away all of Hal's character development and background and I personally find it super unfair and silly, since Hal has an incredible background; but I feel like ever since Hal came back to life and with the 2011 reboot they've been trying to "rewrite" him in a pretty bad way.

There are good and redeemable things, yes; but there are many comics that I have read about him where they try to change his origin story, his motives and especially his relationship with his father.

From the beginning I am not convinced that Martín was an abusive father, and I feel that it does not even completely match the idea that Hal admired him or wanted to be like him.

People do not want to be like their abusers and many times if they want to be like them it is to be able to defend themselves against them, not out of admiration and longing like Hal.

Hal just wanted to connect with his father after losing him, he wanted to feel close to him.

If his father had been an abuser, Hal probably would not have tried so hard to be as much as Martin, and perhaps on more than one occasion he would have let out a comment or in some situation he would have let it be seen that Martin was an abuser, but believe me, those things are noticeable even if you don't say it explicitly, there are very exact phrases or words that let you know that type of information.

The reason they try to explain to us why Hal is not afraid is absurd, not very organic and not very credible.

The reason that Hal cannot feel fear, which was linked to his past with the death of his father, is tragic and traumatic, which gives that depth to the character and allows you to empathize with him, feel a little sorry and be able to understand him better. because there are people who can identify with that.

A traumatic event can fuck up your entire psyche.

But on the other hand, the explanation that a cosmic force came and took away his fear sounds stupid and empty.

But honestly it doesn't surprise me that they do this to Hal, they already did it with his season as "The Spectre" and when it was Parallax, the Parallax thing still bothers me a lot because it literally invalidated all of his feelings, history, bonds, trauma and reduce that whole arc to "It's just that a cosmic parasite took over him and that's why he became evil and got gray hair."

Just don't be surprised that they later remove another super important element from its story development and change it for something emptier.

#hal jordan #dc comics #green lantern #parallax #martin jordan #What the hell are you doing with Hal DC? #let go of my boy #and give it the development and treatment it deserves #ask #answered

[zodiactalks]

These 4 Zodiac Signs Think RULES were Made to be BROKEN

Generally speaking, rules exist to make living and working alongside others easier to handle.

Without rules, everyone would do anything they wanted, and if everyone did what they wanted, chances are life would be completely chaotic.

Sure, some rules are completely nonsensical, but for the most part, rules are there to establish some balance in our otherwise chaotic lives.

Try to explain that to these zodiac signs, though.

Whether they see rules as obstacles, challenges, or imposition, the following 4 zodiac signs will go out of their way to break rules.

After all, as far as they're concerned, rules were meant to be broken.

#1. Aries

For Arians, rules are more like suggestions: Good to keep in mind, but not something you must follow if it gets in your way.

While some people break rules because they fancy themselves rebels, that's not the case with Aries.

Aries doesn't care about appearing cool or making a statement, as Aries is perfectly happy following rules that benefit them.

No, Aries's disobedience comes from the fact that some rules get in their way of achieving their goals, and if a rule is holding them back, then they're entitled to ignore it.

Convenience is the name of the game when it comes to Aries.

Even the act of breaking rules isn't particularly thrilling to Aries, which is ironic because Arians are quite the thrill-seekers.

No, they're not rule-breakers for fun. They're rule breakers out of practicality. In short, they're avid believers of the phrase, "it's better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission."

#2. Libra

You'd think that someone like Libra, with their dislike for confrontations and desire for peace, would be completely against breaking rules, but you'd be surprised.

Like Aries, Libras don't break rules for the sake of it. They don't find any particular pleasure in going against the grain, and they too don't consider themselves rebels.

No, Libras break rules out of principle.

While they're not loud about it, Libras are actually quite the idealists, and they'll tirelessly fight for what they believe in whether others realize it or not.

When they believe a rule is unfair or unnecessary, they'll go out of their way to break it, and if it's possible, they'll bring attention to it until it's gone.

Though they prefer not to make waves if there's something that Libra hates more than unnecessary drama it's conformism, particularly if it leads to people getting hurt.

When that happens, Libra's aversion to confrontation goes right out of the window, and they'll become the most dedicated rule breaker the world has ever seen.

#3. Sagittarius

Curious and adventurous by nature, Sagittarians see rules as challenges, and they'll often go against them for the sheer joy of it.

They're not rule-breakers out of pragmatism or out of idealism. They're rule-breakers simply because it's fun.

They're used to living their life as they want it without asking for permission or giving explanations to anyone, so following rules, particularly rules that they feel are stupid, is simply absurd to them.

Sagittarians make a game out of breaking rules, and they often seek to do it in the most spectacular fashion.

If an apartment building prohibits owning pets, Sagittarians won't only own a pet, but they'll own plenty, or better yet, they'll own an exotic pet.

If a venue doesn't allow you to go in with food, they'll come up with new ways to sneak in increasingly complicated foodstuff.

If they're not supposed to go inside a building, they'll go inside and film themselves doing it.

And the list goes on and on...

#4. Aquarius

So far, we've had those who break rules because they get in the way; those who break rules they disagree with, and those who break rules because they think it's fun.

Aquarius is none of them.

Aquarius breaks rules because they hate being told what to do.

Aquarians see rules as an imposition, like something other people came up with, and are now trying to make it other people's problems.

They think they're stupid and unnecessary, and even when they agree that a specific rule is probably a good idea, they'll resent it because not doing it would be admitting defeat.

Aquarians are rebels without a cause, those rebelling against rules just for the sake of it, even if it comes back to bite them in the ass.

Particularly if it comes back to bite them on the ass.

They'd much rather face the consequences of their rule-breaking than passively accept a rule, particularly when they think the rule is remarkably stupid.

Of course, since Aquarians still need to live in society alongside the rest of us, most of them don't go around breaking rules in completely crazy ways, or else they'd probably end up in jail, but they still tend to disobey out of principle in small ways every time they can.

Whether it's wearing a 'forbidden' piece of clothing, sneaking a drink or two while they're on the job, or not wearing their seatbelts, Aquarians are obsessed with coming up with ways to break the rules, because they love doing it.

#Zodiac #Zodiac Signs #ZodiacFacts #astrology #astrology signs #Aquarius #Aries #Cancer #Capricorn #leo #libra #Sagittarius #Pisces #taurus #scorpio #Gemini #virgo

[writingpei]

wicked games (l.m.) - chapter three

previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

pairing: lee minho x reader genre: academic rivals to lovers wc: 4.5k words

hit you harder

y/n never had many things that she could proudly call her own, but it amazingly didn't bother her as much as it would if it was anyone else. 

her bedroom was a hole of white and hollow spaces that any girl her age would be delighted to cram with posters, magazines, records, and picture frames. she, however, was not like the other girls her age, and she had far more important things to worry about that did not consist of the superficial bother of not leaving marks of her existence in the walls that contained her. 

her mother had a bone to pick with it. every time she entered her daughter's room (the occasions which were rare, but nevertheless existed), her face contorted into an expression as if she were expecting something completely different inside the room, a sharp yet silent disappointment. the silence wouldn’t last that long, because the phrase "your room is a reflection of your mind" always found a way to slip past her lips in a reprimanding whisper.

y/n never let that get under her skin, because she knew it was the exact opposite of her reality.

she was always, always on edge. her thoughts were so fast she couldn’t shake the feeling they one day would spill out of her head and make a gruesome mess all around her. no matter what the day, time, or place; whether it was lying in her bed in the dead of the night, her eyes begging her mind to let them have a little rest for the next day, or the load of the school hallways that caused her eyes to hurt and ears to screech. always on the edge. 

her backpack being her mother's, from her college days, was something that wasn't big enough of a struggle to compete with the laborious physics worksheet that the teacher had given her in the first two weeks of class. not being able to afford the school lunch was child’s play when standing next to the complexity of the subject that had been taught in advanced calculus class that she hadn't mastered yet. the fact that her uniform was second-hand, given to her by one of her mother's fellow nurses whose daughter went to haneul before her didn't rank high among the report she had to turn in the next day. 

those who cared so much about that kind of thing weren't ready for real life, never delving beyond shallow, and y/n hated shallow people. it wasn’t hard to stand in the grand field of things she hated, but this was one that stood out the most among her loathing list. she couldn’t help but be disgusted by the expression of surprise and confusion people got when they found out that she lived in a stupidly tiny house with only her mother, where they shared the same and only bathroom in the place and didn’t have things that were considered conventional for everyone else, which she never had the opportunity to experience owning. "you don’t have a microwave? but… how do you heat things up quickly? how do you make popcorn?", and all this made her want to die.

always on edge.

even though she wouldn’t admit, now and then, she wished her mother’s saying had a grain of truth. during the thin hours of lack of sleep where she was forced to coexist with her never-ending thoughts, she imagined a life where her mind was a blank slate and even the smallest of things stood out so intensely in her devoid consciousness that she came to appreciate the little things around her. the wonderful comfort at the idea of ​​a path she had nothing to worry about, being a person exempt from the absurdity of the world around her.

however, the freedom of her thoughts was the very indication of these absurdities, and desires and wishes of hope were a very comfortable illusion. she had not believed in things like that since she was little.

discovering that things could only change through her hands and effort was both a blessing and the beginning of her abyss. y/n was well aware that beggars couldn’t be choosers, however, she always knew best to make the most of this philosophy. she was never afraid of hard work and was always aware of what she needed to do in order to achieve everything she wanted. it certainly contributed to her incessant need to win at everything.

lee minho’s existence didn’t help that need at all.

he was like a disease, a parasite that crawled up her skin, putrefied her complexion. he brought her down from her highs, pulling her down harshly until her feet touched the ground of this planet once again, a constant reminder of earthly movement and the degrading reminder that he was always orbiting around her, a ghost that crept into the blind spots of her eyes, ready to pull the rug out from under her. 

as long as lee minho remained, she knew that she always needed to be ready to put up with a fight.

the weird thing about this whole state of affairs is that she couldn't single out why minho was the way he was with her. even though she had known him for years upon years (pure psychological torture resulting from his constant presence in her life), she didn't have enough repertoire about what minho's life was like outside of the school environment to make a list. despite this, she would put her hand to the fire on a single proposition about lee minho's person, and that was that he was loaded. filthy rich. old money.

given that fact, she could not understand what his business was in entering a competition for a free scholarship at a school that he could pay for his entire tuition with the money he probably had inside his raven leather wallet right this second.

thus, when she walked out of her room that morning ready for her walk to school and found her mother sleeping on the couch still in her work clothes, an effervescent feeling took over her insides. 

she must have arrived in the middle of the night and couldn't fight the fatigue enough to reach her bedroom, stopping in the living room and completely collapsing on the brown sofa. 

y/n’s hand twitched at her side. always on edge.

no one couldn't escape the shy yet intense cold weather of those days, so she had to retrace her steps and look for a blanket to cover her before leaving.

"minus b plus the square root of the delta, all divided by 2 times a…" she whispered as she walked, loud footsteps against the stone floor of the sidewalk. the uniform skirt did nothing against the cold wind that hit her skin, and she had to resort to straining her head remembering the mathematical formula to take her mind out of the shivers that attacked her skin.

avoiding minho wasn't such an easy task when she shared a considerable amount of classes with him.

she still tried her best not to see him around outside of these exceptions, but it didn't matter. it seemed that with the competition for the scholarship he had become more irritatingly persistent than he already was, if that was even possible.

when chemistry class arrived after recess, she found herself once again sitting alone at her high bench, stationary already sprawled on the long table full of lab material. perhaps she intimidated the other students, not that she cared tremendously about how others viewed her, true interpretation of her character or not.

the room was already silent and the teacher was writing the instructions for the experiment that the class would be performing today on the board, being evaluated for the first time that year in their skills inside the laboratory. the lull was interrupted, however, when the door to the room was flung open with exasperation and a panting demon appeared, looking as if he had run a long way to arrive, even if he was late anyway.

after a brief scold and advice about being on time for his class in the future, mister yang opted to spare him the lecture, simply resorting to saying "you can come in, minho. we are scheduled to do the experiment that is written on the board. oh, look at that! miss park doesn't have a partner, sit and do it together with her".

despite being baffled at his ability to get away with murder simply due to his good student facade, she grimaced at what was to come. 

“uhm…” she saw the glint in minho's eyes as he started to formulate a way to object to the order. she realized she was not the only one unhappy.

“it's already decided, come on. we don't have all day after all!” mister yang caught the animosity in the boy's stare but didn't have any of it, ending any chance of argumentation that could save both from the displeasure of spending an hour having to interact with each other. 

he swiveled his head towards her and made a disgusted face, which only served to darken her mood. swallowing her dissatisfaction, she starts looking for her chemistry book in her bag, counting to ten repeatedly, doing her best not to lose her temper right at the beginning of the torture that lasted an entire hour. 

her calming counting is interrupted by a loud sigh from him after he managed to trudge over to where she was sitting with perceptible slowness. it was only when he came closer and sat down beside her that she noticed that the buttons on his shirt were in the wrong order as if they were done in a hurry. she wasted no time in pointing out his mistake with the tip of her finger and a sickened look on her face, opting not to spare him the effort of speaking out loud to him.

“oh, oops…” a mischievous smile is drawn onto his face, and she started noticing other clues in his complexity that lead him directly to the crime he must have committed during recess: his lips are swollen, his tie is badly done, and his hair, which he always strived to make as perfect as possible, is messed up.

cringing in disgust at the conclusion she's reached, she couldn't hold back the words flying out of her mouth and blurted out "you're repulsive" in a quiet chide.

the smile remained planted on his lips, motionless.

"the abandoned janitor's closet has its perks" she felt nauseous at the confession that rolled so effortlessly down his tongue. "so what do we need to do?"

letting the repulsion from their conversation roll down her shoulders, she pointed at the board at the front of the class like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "do you pay attention to anything other than yourself? he just said the instruction was on the board"

and just like that, minho's mood was ruined and his smile was wiped from his face. "i can't believe i'm paired with you", the weight of the realization finally entering his mind.

"oh, and i'm practically climbing up the walls with excitement"

"ugh, i wish i could have been paired up with yongbok. yongieeee..." he called out to the boy who was currently on the opposite side of the room working alongside a boy with broad shoulders and a manly face. y/n knew him as chris, he was a transfer student whom she gave a tour of the entire school when he arrived for his first day, due to her recognizable knowledge of english.

rolling her eyes, she rised from her seat. "i'll get the zinc solution and metallic zinc. you set up the equipment we are going to need.”

“hey, who do you think you are to order me around?” he retorts, a frown evident on his face as he leans his head lazily in his arms that are draped on top of the counter.

“if you don’t shut up i will glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth again” this seems to make him stop, but it didn't scare him one bit. he just clicked his tongue in annoyance and straightened his back, starting to prepare the bunsen burner for them to use.

"bitch..." he whispered as soon as she turned her back to him.

"what the hell did you just say?" she asks, heat filling up her ribs, and she is facing him once again.

minho looked up at her as if she was a lunatic and his fake innocence crawled up his face, settling in his shiny doe eyes. the act doesn't last long, because his filthy mouth is opening once again "i called you a bitch".

she looks at him in complete disbelief, crossing her arms tightly against her chest in order to prevent her hands from circling his neck and strangling him to death in the middle of the busy classroom.

"what a gentleman, minho" she resorts to saying, his name tasting bitter on her throat as she made sure he knew of it just from her tone while spewing the word. "is that type of language that scores you janitor's closet rendezvous?"

his doe eyes quickly dissolve into something naughty.

"some of them like it more than you would think" bile rose up her throat as she watched him smiling as if he was proud of himself. "and don't flatter yourself, you don't deserve a gentleman, your manners are worse than a sailor's"

she doesn't hesitate giving her back to him and heading over to the storage room, where mister yang left all the material the students would need to complete the experiment.

truthfully, is not uncommon for her to daydream about her possible past life; could it be that she was such a despicable human being that god didn't send her straight to hell when she died but made her live it in real time, in this life? she was sure that if she concentrated her stare hard enough, she could see the horns sticking out of minho's head. perhaps, this really was her hell.

she took a moment longer than necessary in the small room to try and calm herself down. she needed to be the bigger guy so that minho would look fucking stupid trying to get on her nerves while she just ignored his presence.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

don't flatter yourself

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

you don't deserve a gentleman

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

your manners are worse than a sailor's

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6-

some of them like it more than you would think

"calm down" she whispered to herself feeling her fist tightening around the glass pots in her hands.

when she's back at the table, she did her best not to take minho's bait, allowing him to talk to himself until he finally got bored of not being answered and stopped, with the experiment proceeding in complete silence. if they finished quickly, she could leave sooner. mister yang is usually okay with letting his students take their leave when they finish the assignment, as long as the experiment is perfect in his own concepts.

when they were finished, mister yang stopped by their workbench to take a look at their work. his eyes shone due to finding a group among so many others that managed to do the experiment correctly as he expected.

“park, lee, as always, an excellent work. just what i’d expect from both of you.” he exclaimed.

"actually, sir" y/n's contentment shuddered the moment minho opened his mouth. her eyes threw daggers at him, not understanding what the hell he was doing. "don't you think there's something wrong? i don't know, it looks like it's... badly done. her hands were shaking a lot while mixing it, i don't know what came to her"

her hands truly were shaking during the making of the experiment, and that was because they were the only part of her form she couldn't control against the anger she felt while listening to him by her side, trying to find an inadequacy in anything she did, in every move of her body.

he was trying to embarrass her, and because he didn't manage to do it by himself, he resorted to finding backup.

mister yang frowns, bending down to take a closer look at the experiment to confirm or deny the boy's suspicions.

"i don't see anything wrong here, minho. what do you think is wrong?"

"i'm just saying that, as you know, we're the top students, so we have an insatiable hunger for knowledge.” he draws out the ‘a’ in ‘insatiable’, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands. “so, don't hesitate to deduct points from us for any little mistake, as we're always looking to improve and learn more. and i mean, any mistake really." minho blinked his eyes at the man in front of them dreamily and received a silent yet strong kick from y/n under the table. was he really trying to get the two of them to have points deducted? on purpose?

he was a fucking idiot. she was going to kill him.

mister yang's eyebrows arch, and he bends down once more to assess the experiment thoroughly. y/n's hands curl into fists, begging for nothing to be out of place and for her grade to be perfect like it always was in that class. the silence was excruciating and seemed to go on for hours and hours, but apparently, the situation didn't seem to faze minho one bit, given the discreet playful smile still on his face (even though her kick undeniably hurt).

"no, everything is the way it should be, really." a breeze of fresh air washes over her, relief rushing down her spine. "you two are free to go"

"ugh, at least that much" he cheers, eyes traveling to his wristwatch, seeing that there were still 10 minutes left before class actually ended.

minho stands up, gathering his things at lightning speed, ready to flee the classroom. that is until y/n held up the sleeve of her blazer imposingly with fire in her eyes.

"you honestly aren't afraid of dying, are you lee minho? because i swear to god, i have no dark desire to spend the rest of my days in a jail cell, but you make that change more each day"

"it's not my fault that you react so easily to anything i do" he smiled foolishly, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. "if it wasn't so much fun messing with your, i swear, pinky swear i wouldn't do it"

"you are an absolute jerk, unfit for the common society" red clouded her vision, her breathing becoming harder and harder by the second.

"and you" he suddenly placed his hands on her shoulders, making her shudder from the sudden contact. he then turned her towards the worktable they had previously been using to do the experiment. "didn't turn off the bunsen burner" he said, close to her ear.

it was true, the mixture had been sitting over the fire all this time and now it was bubbling dangerously. she quickly freed herself from the grip he had on her shoulders and turned off the fire, praying that mister yang hadn't noticed her slip-up. luckily, he was busy explaining the difference between a liter and a milliliter to a student, and the sight almost made her laugh out loud to the detriment of her earlier despair. chemistry could really be traumatizing.

when she realized it, minho had already fled the scene, and now it was her turn. putting her materials in her bag, she tried not to linger in the room much longer, fearing the bell would sound and the corridors would be clogged with fervent students and she hated the rush.

strangely, standing in the empty hallway, there was a tall boy with long, almost white hair leaning against the wall next to the room she had jkust left. trying to ignore him, she circled around him, following her path until "are you park y/n?" reached her ears.

even more confused, she spun on her heels to turn once more towards the boy.

"uhm, who wants to know?" she questions, skeptical eyes narrowing. people didn't usually seek conversation with her. those who knew her and were already aware of her strong personality had more than justifiable motives, and those who never came across her never had any reasoning or interest.

"i'm hwang hyunjin, a friend of mine told me about you" he says but that was about all he had to spare her. she arched her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue with his monologue that explained why the interaction was even happening, and when he didn't, she simply started striding back the path she was initially taking.

"no, wait!" he exclaims and she hears his light footsteps until his figure appears in front of her, blocking the track. "i really need your help. do you have a moment to listen to me?"

"how would i help you? i don't even know who you are"she crosses her arms against her chest, stance brutal, eyes not afraid to lock against his even though he was way taller than her.

"i'll explain everything" he scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor, apparently trying to organize his thoughts.

only now she stopped to effectively absorb hyunjin's appearance. he was wearing a headband that kept his hair from falling over his eyes, his body wrapped in a sporty white tank top with a basketball on fire print down the middle, and running shorts. it looked like he'd come straight out of the gym just to have this conversation with her.

"i play on the high school basketball team, and i'm really good, i even got a college scholarship offer just for that."

"okay… congratulations?” she said slowly, finding the interaction painfully awkward. that was a rather questionable way to talk to someone for the first time, even she knew it. “and what do i have to do with it?"

"it's about this scholarship. apparently, i need to get good grades to score it, and that's a big problem in itself" he said, sounding defeated.

"were you skipping school just now to hang out on the basketball court?" she looked at him up and down once more, suspicion growing.

“this is rather stereotypical of you to assume” he crossed his arms just like she did, sounding offended. they soon fell back to his sides and his voice dropped so drastically she could barely hear the "but yeah, i was" that came out of his mouth right after.

"i don’t enjoy sounding repetitive at all," she sighed deeply, throwing her weight from one foot to another, the conversation already tiring her. "but i can't help but ask again: what does all this have to do with me in the first place?"

"jisung, this friend of mine, said that you were the smartest person in this entire school and that your grades were higher than mine and his combined. that's why i came here to ask you, no... to beg you" it all happened extraordinarily fast.

in a matter of seconds, hyunjin was kneeling on the ground with his hands clasped together in prayer. y/n almost jumped back in fright at the boy's sudden motion. "please tutor me. i need that acceptance more than anything, i'll do whatever you want, and i'll even pay you, but i need you to help me. i will never get into college if it isn’t this way."

the terror begins when the bell rings deafening down the immense corridor and the classroom doors begin to open. y/n was never one to be visibly embarrassed, she thought it was an obvious sign of vulnerability that she didn't allow herself to deal with.

what happens is that, at that moment, people started to invade the halls, and the little show that hyunjin was putting on was now public, in the midst of dozens of teenagers thirsty for gossip and false rumors to bring any kind of emotion into their monotonous lives.

"hyunjin, hyunjin, get off the ground..." she whispered loudly, trying her hardest to pull him back to his feet by his shoulder as she looked around in exasperation, seeing that people were already taking notice of the scene. they were in the middle of the hallway, to make the situation even more unbelievable.

"do you agree to help me?" she honestly intended to do anything but at the moment; he wasn't getting up no matter how much force she used and the state of the occurrence was getting more and more severe.

"get up!" she begged and he just grabbed her hand that was on his shoulder in between his.

"please, y/n, i'll get up as soon as you accept it. my mom is going to murder me! you are really going to leave me to have a horrible future, one where my talent will be wasted and i won't even have food to feed myself. for fuck’s sake, i might even end up living under the bridge-"

"yes, yes! i'll help you with whatever you want! i promise, now get up!" she exclaimed, giving in.

hyunjin rose to his feet just as quickly as he had knelt down in the first place. a smile of pure happiness bloomed on his face, creating a stoic contrast to the terrified expression on y/n's one.

she could only hear the whispers at her back. from mouth to mouth, the story of hyunjin sprawled at her feet would get more and more dramatic, and she couldn't fathom what the final yet fake version of what was going on would be considered the ultimate truth.

"i'm really glad you accepted" he was still holding her hand, she noticed it when he began to shake it vigorously. "it was great doing business with you. now tell me, when do we start sessions?"

still dizzy from everything that happened in such a short span of time, she didn't even realize when the word slipped past her lips "we can start tomorrow after lunch, in the library" in a bizarrely lifeless voice for her.

“that sounds perfect!” he celebrates. “see you there, then!” 

and then he disappeared into the sea of ​​students who shamelessly stared at the very strange event they just had the pleasure of witnessing. park y/n and hwang hyunjin knowing of each other's existence? interacting with each other? him at her feet in the middle of school on a tuesday morning?

she wanted to vomit.

despite all this, y/n only had a single thought tattooed on her mind that repeated itself like a mantra: she had never met a normal man during her 18 years of life, let alone a decent one.

stay tuned for chapter 4! ☆

#leeminho #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #hyunjin #hwanghyunjin #leeknow #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #minho #minho x reader #minho x y/n #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #skz #stray kids #straykids imagines #straykids headcanons #skz headcanons #skz series #pei writes

[polutrope]

Writing Year Wrapped (2023)

Thank you for the tag and for creating this, @eilinelsghost!

An advisory off the bat that a few of these explore some themes and relationships that won't be for everyone (don't want Tumblr to censor me completely so sexu@l themes and inc3st lol).

3 Favorite Fics You've Written This Year

Scorched (E). Elrond/Maedhros, Elrond & Elros, past Maedhros/Maglor. Started as a quick fill to get a prompt from @i-am-a-lonely-visitor out of my head but then Maedhros was such an unreliable narrator that I needed to tell more of the story. I loved exploring this complicated entanglement from four very different perspectives and it gave me confidence to write more about this period.

Who By Fire (M). Amrod/Fingolfin. I broke new thematic barriers (for me, not for the fandom) and dug deep into two characters I hadn’t written much/at all before with this one, and I’m really pleased with how it turned out and how it was received. 

Everlasting Darkness (E) Eärendil/Maedhros, Elwing/Maglor. I feel like I’ve mentioned this one a lot, but I just think it’s so fun and absurd and pretty clever if I do say so myself. And hot. I’ve received a lot of great comments on it including that Anon who’s got Eärendil/Maedhros brainrot – sending you flowers.    

3 Fics That Stretched You the Most

If You Are the Healer (E) Maedhros/Maglor. I started this one-shot in December 2022 and didn’t finish it until February 2023 for @maedhrosmaglorweek, which is a long time for me to spend with a one-shot. I wanted to write something that would be credible to people (like me, when I started) who weren’t totally sold on the ship and that proved a real challenge, but based on some feedback I got I pulled it off.

And Love Grew (T) Elrond & Elros & Maglor. After two years of rotating this deeply complex relationship, I started my first foray into a long fic. I struggle a lot with (confidence about) writing an engaging plot and I came close to abandoning this endeavor because I couldn’t imagine exactly how everything would unfold so it felt reckless to start sharing it. Then I said “to heck with it!” and it was the right call. 

The whole Silmarillion Phrase Prompts series (mostly G, some T and M). It’s 20 ficlets so this is a big cheat, but I put this prompt list up to get myself through a creative slump and some of these were a real push to get out but I’m proud of completing all of them and writing so many different characters and situations. 

3 Favorite Lines Short Passages You've Written 

It was not well known among Tirion’s elite that the staid and formidable Nerwen Artanis Arafinwiel was as ambitious about the acquisition of lovers as she was about the acquisition of athletic and intellectual accolades. Because Artanis was decisive and efficient, eschewing the coquetry that normally preceded an act of pleasure, it was believed, by those she did not bed, that she was uninterested in such matters. As for those she did bed, the reverence and fear she inspired kept them from making any boasts about having breached the steely exterior of Arafinwë’s daughter — at which each believed him or herself to have been uniquely successful.

From Snakes and Ladders

He was so close now that Nolofinwë’s eyes had to dart about to take in the whole of his face. Nolofinwë inhaled deeply, attempting to gain control of the thundering of his pulse, and his nostrils were filled with the sweet scents of the anise and chamomile oil used to soothe Amrod’s pains. It only made his heart pound harder. “Telvo, what are you doing?” he asked. “Unkinging you.”

From Who By Fire

Since then, Maedhros has plotted the narrative of centuries building towards that boundary drawn. The tale of a liege devoted beyond reason to his lord, giving and giving until his spirit was as scorched as the lands he lost. They do not touch anymore, not even in violence. Maglor has no need of him. It is his foals, grazing upon his barren spirit, who have brought him back to life.

From Scorched

3 Characters You Enjoyed Writing (that surprised you)

Eärendil in Everlasting Darkness (E), Ungoliant’s Bane (G), and Beacon (E)

Galadriel in Snakes and Ladders (E) and Flight and Freedom (G)

Elrond in Scorched (E) and Stained Glass (G)

3 Unexpected Inspirations

Skipping because I can’t think of any that were unexpected. 

3 WIPs You're Excited About in the Upcoming Year

And Love Grew

Giving my OTP some love with more Daemags smut. Possibly “Kinks Through History”. 

I have a plan brewing for something meta-related that I’m not ready to disclose.

3 People Tagged to Share Theirs (if you want!)

@ettelene

@thelordofgifs

@meadowlarkx

#ask game #2023 wrapped #2023 reflections

[royalwhumpness]

If anyone ever calls you a “snowflake”, which is usually an insult towards those who speak out against racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and the like, you can hit them with some of these cold, hard facts:

Which version of the term ‘snowflake’ are they using?

If they’re using it’s original meaning dated back in the 1800s (mostly used in Missouri), then they’re mixed up, as they would be calling you a racist; which is very much the opposite of what the modern day snowflake is known for. It was coined to describe those that hoped slavery would survive the country’s civil war.

If they’re using it’s 1970’s meaning, then they are insulting you for being white, or if you are a poc, then for 'acting' white. Or they’re calling you cocaine. Again, modern day bigots and incels who throw around the term snowflake are usually white themselves and they would most likely not be trying to insult themselves. Also, they’re probably not calling you cocaine.

If they’re using the modern terminology coined by Chuck Palahniuk (pronounced PUL-nak) in his book/movie, “Fight Club”, kindly remind them that Chuck Palahniuk is a gay man who was writing a satire targeted at hyper-masculinity and consumerism. (You could technically stop there, or you could continue…)

The phrase, “You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake” is not about someone who is weak or sensitive. It was originally a mantra Chuck used as a way to deprogram himself from seeing himself as another mass-produced “genius”. (You know, the way that bigots and incels see themselves.) It was also about rejecting the system that spits out lies of conformity to placate the general population so they stay in their mundane jobs. It was about breaking free of the mold.

- If you don’t want Fight Club spoilers, don’t read further, but I dive into reasons why those that use the insult are idiotic because the movie and the insult don't mean what they think it means.

However, the last paragraph, I think, is a pretty good way to sum up what they're actually saying when they call you a snowflake. -

This post really got away from me lol. It became longer than I wanted, but it was really fun to write.

——————

Fight Club, besides being satiracle, is a form of existentialism, and I would argue absurdism, towards gender roles and consumerism and how they intertwine under the patriarchy.

The Narrator, the protag, is lonely and suffering from debilitating insomnia. He seeks refuge from different support groups which give him comfort, though he does not belong in them. When a woman enters the picture, attending the same support groups which she also shouldn't be apart of, he is thrown off, upset, and quits going, which brings back his insomnia and lonliness.

That’s when he meets Tyler Durdon, a hyper-masculine version of himself that uses aggression and anger as a form of release, the titular fight clubs. Tyler Durdon himself is a satirical representation of the “alpha male”, and a rejection of any and all femininity. He is also a representation of the working class, livid at the classist system and his inability to become the master of his own life. Again, remember, Tyler is The Narrator.

Tyler creates Project Mayhem to destroy the financial institutions, wanting to give a fresh start to the masses. He created this paradox where he aims to destroy this patriarchal institution where he is out of control, by creating a patriarchal institution where he is in control and threatens to castrate anyone who question his authority. Castration has already been established in Fight Club as losing what makes you a man and reduces you to femininity.

How does this relate to gender roles?

- First let me point out that the birth of Fight Club came from an experience Chuck Palauhniuk had when he went to work sporting bruises from a previous altercation, and his coworkers refused to ask him what happened. This is a common theme among most men to refuse to delve into each other’s personal lives, which is seen as an ‘effeminate’ thing to do. -

There are barely any women in fight club but Marla Singer, the woman that intercepted the Narrator’s search for comfort. She is a strong character that exhibits autonomy over her own body (when she walks into traffic, not caring if she lives or dies) and her own free will to do the same things he is doing. To the narrator, she is competition. To Tyler, a caricature of the alpha-male, she is a sex toy. The Narrator’s rejection of women, particularly strong women, entering his world unless used as an object, is a commentary on the sort of utopia hypermasculine and incel men desire. He himself feels demasculinised (is this a word?) by her so his alter ego, Tyler, is his response.

Another good example, is the support group for those with testicular cancer. The Narrator describes Bob as having “bitch tits” which resulted from his castration. The whole group is a mockery of sensitivity among men because it proclaims that the only way a man can be sensitive is by having their balls removed.

There are so many small, minute details in this book/movie that poke fun at the typical hyper-masculine mindset that this was supposed to be a short “in your face” piece on how to combat the snowflake insult that it’s become a small essay on the subject.

Some examples of these small details:

The woman who wants to have sex before she dies is a clever response to the idea that disabled individuals are asexual because of their disibility.

The desire The Narrator has to destroy the face of the well-groomed man is another nod to the idea that masculinity doesn't make room for men to groom themselves or look 'pretty'. (Remember the whole 'metrosexual' thing from the early 2000's? Yeah.)

When Tyler forces all his 'space monkies' to endure the pain of the chemical burn on their hand, it's symbolic of the pain men endure to keep up these masculine appearances whether it causes them physical or mental anguish. It is also a physical mark given to them as a form of conformity, which is also when Tyler gives his snowflake speech, proving that they are not individuals anymore, but are under his patriarchal control.

The term “snowflake” is a jab to the bigots that use it, which is hysterical. What they’re saying is, “You’re not a unique snowflake, you are just like me, a drone of society that cannot think for themselves and has become a consumerist puppet used to feed the system that I admire which is also responsible for keeping me down. The fact that you reject your programming offends me because it forces me to face and question the societal rules, roles, and structures set in place, by man, that I have relied on my entire life. It forces me to face and question the patriarchy, which I currently worship and am a part of.”

#i should be working but I suddenly got the urge to do a deep dive into the snowflake insult and here we are #I personally love fight club and have loved it before I ever knew the author was gay or before the term snowflake was thrown around. #it always was and always will be a great book and a great movie #fight club #snowflake #incels #hyper masculinity #chuck palahniuk #tyler durden #long post

[lady-o-ren]

Kiss The Blood From My Hands

For easier reading here's the Ao3 link (HERE)

//

Paris, 1756

Claire Beauchamp finds herself the target of Les Disciples du Mal, an underground cult that her Uncle Lamb had been investigating that ended with his murder. But she finds an unlikely savior in the darkly mysterious James Fraser who marries her to keep her from harm and just maybe to redeem his own tormented soul.

//

"But his flesh upon him shall have pain, and his soul within him shall mourn. "

Job 14:22

P A R I S

1 7 5 6

My husband was a stranger to me when we married some months ago.

All I had known was his name and that he'd been born somewhere in the Scottish Highlands ten years before myself in Oxfordshire yet had the look of a man twice his age, worn from a thousand wretched sleepless nights as I would soon learn.

 We did not share a marriage bed nor did we have love for one another, but there were moments where we found a quiet kinship here in this foreign land not our own. Be it in a shared glance of amusement at the absurdity of the many rules of etiquette we were subjected and expected to follow to an unexpected turn of phrase that tickled the other to a fleeting smile. 

He even indulged my interest in botany by giving me the run of his courtyard to grow a garden of my own, himself admitting to having lost the spirit to foster seed to green a lifetime ago. He never told me why, leaving me to wonder what sort of man he used to be that didn't shrink from the light. 

Our conversations were sparse but cordial. Sometimes strained with awkwardness and an undercurrent of something I couldn't quite explain that resulted in his inability to meet my eye, suddenly at a loss for words, and avoid my presence for long stretches of time. 

It was rather a lonely experience, our marriage, but I counted myself luckier than most. 

My husband was neither cruel nor violent towards me and he certainly never forced himself upon me when he so easily could. He was a good man if more than a bit rough around the edges but it was nothing I couldn't bear. 

Though his nightmares troubled me greatly.

They came infrequently. Loud and sorrowful, bursting with rage, waking me from bed with my heart a pounding, painful fist against my ribs. And the only way he could break the terrible hold these terrors had on his mind was to take to the streets of Paris only to return home well into the next day.

Sometimes I'd catch him coming up the backstairs to his bedroom much to his dismay. His eyes would be bloodshot, his knuckles bruised, reeking of alcohol and perfume that darkened his face with shame. 

I didn't need to ask where he'd been. 

Not that he would ever bear his heart to me. 

Or so I thought . . .

//

I laid awake in bed, staring into the dying flames of the hearthfire, with a copy of Manon Lescaut left abandoned on my lap. I hadn't been able to read more than a few pages of the doomed romance as I was far too distracted thinking about where my own Des Grieux was this awful rainy night.

But then I heard a noise from downstairs that gave my heart a jolt and sent poor Manon flying to the floor as I leapt out of bed, reaching for my robe. 

I hurried down the staircase in a flurry of yellow silk, guided only by the flashes of lightning that shone through the lone window, and called out -

"Jamie! Jamie, is that you?"

But only the howling wind and rain replied, provoking a frightful thought to mind. 

What if it wasn't Jamie downstairs nor even a creeping servant? 

What If . . . 

I shuddered, unable to finish the thought, as I recalled the night Jamie and I had first met. 

The night he had saved my life. 

And I was no better prepared to protect myself than I was back all those months ago.

But just as I inched my cold bare foot backwards on the step, a thin beam of light shot out into the hallway, signaling who the rain had brought home. 

I breathed a sigh of relief and followed the lighted path into the parlor where I stopped myself at the doorway. Struck by the sight of Jamie. 

But it wasn't his imposing figure or striking features that caught my eye - though it did give one the impression that he was made of something more than simple mortal flesh. 

He was leaning against the mantelpiece with water puddling around his boots, holding his right hand against his chest, bloodied black to the cuff of his sleeve.

"Jamie," I gasped, crossing the room. "What's happened to you?" 

Jamie snapped his head at me, sparking the red-gold flame of his hair like hellfire. 

"Away wi' ye," he said sharply. 

"But - " 

"Damn ye, Claire! Do as ye're told. For once." 

I flinched back as if I'd been slapped. 

Jamie never spoke to me out of anger. And scarcely did he ever call me Claire. My name was reserved for formal occasions or as a token of profound gentleness that always made my heart sore right at the center where it bled most tender. 

"I - I'm sorry - I -"

I saw Jamie's face twist with that familiar shade of shame and self-loathing as he bowed his head and thumped the mantle with his good fist, hard enough to disturb the hearth. 

"I'm sorry, lass. I didn't mean to snarl at ye. But I've the devil's temper tonight and canna bear the company. Now, get ye to bed . . . Please." 

The last was said so pitifully that I didn't spare a thought to consider Jamie's plea. Instead I reached for him and took his maimed hand in mine. 

"Push me away if you must but I won't leave you like this. Let me help you for once . . . Please."

I was met with grim silence and readied myself to be thrown out the parlor but then Jamie let out a brandy laced sigh, loosening the tension in his jaw and shoulders soaked from the rain. 

"What choice does a wretched beast like me have when ye've my paw in yer hands. Aye, Sassenach?"

I felt a warmth spread over my cheeks hearing Jamie's name for me that was his alone to speak, and lowered my face, hoping he didn't see. I then carefully peeled the bloodied stiff cuff away from the back of his big hand and tried not to wince.

"I see no thorn here, you poor beast. Unless you pulled it out with your teeth." I meant it in jest, glancing up at Jamie's face, but I found it set in cold hard stone. 

"Who did you hit?" I asked tentatively, imagining masked men in alleyways beneath the dark menacing glow of a blood moon.

 The truth instead broke my heart.

"A mirror," he answered flatly. "I didn'a like what I was seeing."

//

After fetching some much needed dressings for his hand I came back to the parlor and found Jamie as I had left him - By the hearthfire in his wingback chair with a throw I'd taken from the settee in the corner wrapped around him. An improvement over the soggy coat he was wearing that was left to drip over the mantle. 

His eyes were closed and his long legs were stretched out in front of him and for a moment I thought that maybe he'd fallen asleep, but then he cracked one dark eye open to scowl at me.

"Ye're going to enjoy this, aren't ye, Sassenach?" His mouth twitched at the corner and I felt my own do the same. He was only teasing me. 

"No, but I'll try not to laugh when I douse your hand in vinegar," I said, taking my place by his knee, and saw his eyes, circled by shadows and glossy from a night of drinking, twinkle like sapphires in the firelight. 

I set myself to work washing the blood from Jamie's right hand, taking particular care around his battered knuckles where the ugly gash stretched across them. Luckily, it looked worse than it was and would only need a suture or two. 

Here and there I'd glance up at him, watching me with a sort of quiet fascination as I worked, tired as he was. This time he caught my eye and murmured something drowsily, almost longingly, in gaelic. 

"What are you saying up there? Something beastly?" I asked, as I finished bandaging his hand. 

Jamie looked startled, maybe not realizing he had spoken aloud and quickly adjusted his features, cocking his stubbled chin down at me.

"I said that my hands afire with all yer poking and prodding and I'd like to have it back in one piece - Not that I don't appreciate yer mending," he amended, and twitched his nose at a damp forelock that hung low past his brow. 

"Well I'm all done here - I just . . ." I hesitated and bit the inside of my bottom lip. 

It must be now, I thought. For I didn't think I'd ever have the courage to be so forward with him again. 

"I just want you to know that you can talk to me, Jamie," I said softly. "Whatever it is that's troubling you, that keeps you up at night, you needn't suffer alone." 

He stiffened and his right hand would've curled into a fist if I hadn't taken a hold of it. 

"I have to," he said in a tone barely above a rasping whisper, looking down where our hands were linked. "Ye'd never be able to look me in the eye again if ye kent the truth of what haunts me. I couldn'a bear it, Sassenach. "

"Try me," I dared, giving him a little shake by the arm so he'd raise his gaze to mine. " Or do I have more faith in that gallant heart of yours than you have in mine?"

His eyes narrowed with seriousness and no short amount of pain. 

"You have no idea what little faith I had before I met ye, Claire. Tis why I fear losing whatever care ye have for me."

I leaned forward across his knees, my heart in my eyes. "Then trust me Jamie as I've trusted you unequivocally with my life. "

After what seemed a long silence, where I thought I could feel his pulse hammer against my palm, he spoke again.

"There were things done to me against my will that haunt me still," he began, and I saw a tremor ripple down his throat as he swallowed. "Whether I'm awake or when I dream, I feel the touch of the devil himself on my soul. My fear in hell is all that keeps me from taking a knife to my gullet and sometimes even then . . ."

"You don't mean that," I said half choked, feeling the pinprick of tears at the corner of my eyes threatening to fall as I shook my head.

A sad smile tugged on Jamie's mouth as he gently touched my cheek with the back of his good left hand. 

"Aye, ye're right. It was true before but now my life is bound to yers. For as long as ye need me, I'll always be at yer side, mo bheannachd."

I grasped his hand when I felt him pull away. Held it nearly to my throbbing heart. 

"Promise me then or I swear I'll drag you from the pits of hell just to strangle you."

Jamie blinked at me, wide-eyed, clearly caught off guard. Then leaned back into his chair and laughed deeply from his belly. I never heard such a sound from him before. 

"Christ, Sassenach! Only you would seek vengeance on a puir man pouring out his miserable heart to ye." He laughed again, bringing out a much needed flush to his face and clasped his other hand over mine.  

"Aye, I promise. I'll not leave ye. Not until ye find someone worthy of yer heart."

He meant it too. And I felt the truth of it pierce my breast. 

I hadn't given much thought to our arrangement. Our marriage was in name only and would only last for as long as my safety was in jeopardy or if I asked for a divorce.

I never once considered that Jamie might ask one from me if he were ever to find an attachment elsewhere.

"What about your heart, Jamie?" I asked around a hard knot lodged in my throat.

An extraordinary look of tenderness bloomed across Jamie's face that seemed to breathe life back into his soul that beamed bright through the shimmering blue of his eyes. 

"My loyalty is to you, mo ghràidh, and no one else. Not a Laird nor King. Even God would be jealous of such devotion."

I blushed not knowing what to say. I remembered the smell of perfume that sometimes clung to him whenever he'd come home from one of his ventures. 

Jamie then cleared his throat where I saw a red flush arise and carefully flexed his hand in front of his face.

"Thank ye for my hand, Sassenach. Ye've earned yerself a good lie in."

" And you? " I asked when I saw him slouch back into his chair. 

He gathered the throw tighter around him and shrugged. "Dinna fash. I'll stay here till the fire goes out." 

I sat stubbornly back on my heels and pulled my own robe tighter around myself. "Then I'll stay here with you. Maybe it will help."

"Help what? " 

"To keep your demons at bay. That's why you don't sleep. Being alone makes it worse, doesn't it?"

I immediately regretted what I had just said as I watched Jamie retreat into himself. Before I could apologize, he said with a bit of gravel to his voice -

"Do as ye wish, but not on the floor. And I'll put another log on the fire for us." 

I didn't remember falling asleep but I obviously had and woke up in my own bed. Still in my robe. With the faintest impression of something lovely pressed to my cheek.

Not a kiss. 

But warm breathed words, indecipherable, yet spoke to my heart. That swelled and overflowed with love. 

//

A/N: The notes for this are long so hit up ao3 if you're curious.

#outlander fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #outlander