#Berry powerful developer

[jimberrydev]

I just watched a superheros series and thought "how silly that everyone chooses hero names. would ppl irl do that?"

and then remembered the internet. WE DO THAT ALREADY

anyways, now I'm trying to think of a cool super power with berries and software

[claitea]

a little personal project i'm slowly chipping away at, thought it would be fun to make it into a chart that i add a doodle to every time i finish a new character so i can track how i'm going with it!

by project i just mean i want an oc of each type. i'm not making a game or anything the positions listed are purely for fun HDJBFJFKE

[underthehedge]

Even that is still valuable. If people make it easier for researchers at big ag companies to find and promote a wider diversity of food crops that still helps towards food security, and it doesn't stop the public and NGOs etc. from accessing and propagating the information to use either.

https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-08-22/food-plant-solutions-malnutrition-farming-edible-plants/12580732

https://fms.cmsvr.com/fmi/webd/Food_Plants_World

This guy is my new hero. I LOVE learning about native food plants that just grow everywhere without human help.

The database is a little clunky to use (especially on a phone), but still loads of excellent information.

[jjenthusee]

Subtle Stitches

jason todd x reader

A/N: i had an idea then it kinda spiraled? idk if in a good or bad way but i kept adding more and more. i’m also so exhausted from day to day life so this is to comfort myself HAHAHA so ENJOY :D

Tags: fluff, domestic jason, silly jason, toxic jason if u squint but i’m blind to that 😌 and slight angst but all is well :)

You tiredly started putting clothes in the washer, throwing mixed pieces of clothing from your pile and Jason’s pile.

Colors were first, a mixture of fabrics placed in the machine.

After emptying the laundry basket, you remembered the shirt you threw on the floor from this morning. A bad habit you’ve started to pick up as you rushed to get to work on time.

Unsure of the precise outfit you wanted, multiple changes, then changing back into the original outfit, it gave you a pile of clothes thrown last minute.

You grabbed the shirt off the floor.

It wasn’t dirty necessarily, but now you wanted to wash it.

On your way back from the bathroom, you noticed a spare sock thrown sadly outside the door.

Then a completely different lone sock in your bedroom and a pair of pants you left to air-dry, but never bothered to put away still on the dining chair.

You gotta work on this bad habit you’ve developed, but after working all day and getting home late, you hadn’t been able to give yourself any down time, let alone complete any chores.

You hadn’t even seen Jason. Only giving him quick morning forehead kisses before work as he sleepily tried to cling onto your waist.

Wrapping a strong arm around you, locking you permanently to his side.

You had no idea how his sheer strength kept you in place as he lazily laid on the bed, but after much convincing that you had to fulfill your portion of the rent and several kisses to Jason’s face, did he finally let you go.

As much as it pained you to leave, you loved the wrinkled clothes left by his adamance to throw you back on the mattress next to him.

It felt like every weekday, he was getting closer to convincing you to drop everything, ditch the city, go off-grid and live deep in the woods surviving off berries and spring water, but alas you silently trudged yourself to the bus stop.

You left like a soldier going off to war, sworn to duty while their partner, like Jason, held their tears and waved a white handkerchief as the city bus wisped you away to 8+ hours of labor.

Both of your schedules, opposite of one another, never aligned. Jason swung the city in the peak of the night, under the stars and amongst the ongoing sirens, but you had the most torturous criminal in all of Gotham, a 9-5. It waited for you, forbade you from staying out too late.

You once joked to Jason over dinner that he should leave a small token of…warning to your boss, for a needed day off, but when Jason didn’t laugh and comfort you like you expected, you made sure to make him pinky promise he wouldn’t physically or mentally harm your boss.

When he wouldn’t wrap his pinky with yours, you refused to eat the warm meal he cooked. After dismissing every possible way he could make your boss beg, he reluctantly sworn the great promise of pinkies to not do any permanent harm in favor of you eating.

With a worrisome look, you took slow bites, watching Jason act like he didn’t create new torture tactics at a family dining table.

After another additional verbal reassurance from the man and an unconvincing sigh, he only agreed that if you promised to never miss a goodbye kiss before work, then he would follow any rule you set.

So far, no broken promises and no mass emails about a sudden company shut down due to threats, so it was a win?

Even then, they could force you to work remote, so unless Jason unrelentingly asks Tim to shut down all power and service in the area, you still had to be a working citizen.

The commute to and from work already took up most of your minimal free time, so it felt like you woke up to work, ate a quick meal, then fell asleep to wait for the next work day.

Luckily in the rare moments, Jason got to get a quick kiss on your shoulder before going out for patrol. Usually you were passed out on the couch, but with a beautifully handwritten note from your lover, you woke up on the bed thanks to Jason carrying you.

You needed a Jason recharge soon, but that had to be until the weekend and for work to even out before you got that luxury.

While the clothes were being washed, you started a small water to clean the dishes.

Soapy bubbles coating your hands as you washed the utensils that Jason used to make you daily lunches.

You almost cry at every lunch, adoring the beautiful meal that graced you, made with the scarred and gentle hands of Jason.

With the last pot placed on the drying rack, you sent one last text for the night.

You: clothes in the wash, was gonna put them in the dryer but i’m frog blinking and i need to sleep \(o-0)/

jay: ok, got the dishes when i get back :)

You: already washed them :(((

jay: how dare u be a responsible adult

You: i’ll repent 😔

jay: 12 years in the slammer, community service, and a lunch date with me on saturday

You: yes sir 🫡 i promise to reduce my sentence for good behavior

As you finished brushing your teeth, you noticed Jason’s jacket thrown on the couch.

You were surprised he didn’t take it out on patrol, but after the last stabbing incident there were relatively large holes in the sleeves and pocket.

You were grateful that most of the damage was in the jacket and not Jason, but he still kept it.

After looking at its sad state, you offered to shop for a new jacket together, but Jason was reluctant. Saying it could be fixed.

With a small smile, you grabbed the coat, grabbing your mending kit that you got for free from a hotel you stayed at a while back.

You messily stitched the first hole, but after finding the right pace, muscle memory kicked in and you finished up the stitching.

Not the best work, but you hoped the dark color would hide any mishaps and make it seamless.

When the handiwork was done, you left the jacket as you saw it and went to bed.

—

When work eased up, you almost got to see Jason for a full evening.

You cuddled on the couch, your legs over his, leaning on the pillows.

Engrossed in the movie, but time for patrol was near and Jason had to move your legs and get up to get his gear on.

When he reappeared from the bedroom, you saw the mended jacket back on his broad shoulders.

With a quick kiss goodbye, a quiet shut from the window, you finished the movie. Happy that you managed to save the jacket that Jason refused to let go.

After a couple nights, work was tougher on your body than usual and the jacket was back on the couch. A new tear on the sleeve that you closed up.

The several patchwork was starting to concern you.

You have to convince him that he needed a new jacket. One without tears preferably.

“Jay, I’m running out of thread. I think it’s time.” You tiredly held the worn out jacket in your lap. Poking the needle into the fabric, careful to not prick yourself.

“No, it’s still got some life. Since you’ve sewn it, it’s never looked better.” Jay washed the dishes.

“I’ve heard Roy ask if you tried to sew it yourself. I know it’s not the best work, but even you’re more meticulous than I am.” You knotted the end of the thread, cutting off the excess.

“Roy can’t even tie his shoes, so don’t listen to him.” Jason turned on the faucet, letting the water flow into the sink.

“I know we’re both busy, but I can run to the store after work to buy you one. I saw a really nice one that would look great, It’s not far and I can take the next bus—“ You tried to reason.

“Absolutely not, you already know how I feel about you taking that route so late.” Jason scrubbed the plate.

“I’ll go with a coworker, we do leave in groups anyway. It’s just once—“ You sighed, folding the jacket.

“No, this isn’t something you can convince me on.” Jason placed the glass plate down, a little more harshly than he wanted, but he grabbed a mug without stopping. “I have to meet Babs and Steph to talk about the recon tomorrow, I won’t be in the area.” Sternness filled Jason’s voice, unconvinced.

“Jason, we’ve talked about this, I can go—“

“I don’t want to risk it.” Jason held the cup, frustration in his eyes as he stared it down.

“But, I want to do this for you. We haven’t—“ You pushed, exhaustion making your patience thin.

“I said no!” Jason raised voice, shutting yours down.

The mug shattered in the sink. Jason flinched as if even he was shocked by his own reaction.

The faucet continuously ran water as all noise surrounding you stopped. Like it was inconsiderate to the tension that built in your apartment.

You sat for a moment before walking over to shut the water off.

“I’m—I’m so—“ Jason fumbled.

You looked into the sink, at the aftermath of the pieces of the mug that had snipped his fingers.

You calmly grabbed the sponge soaking up Jason’s blood as he stood there, letting you maneuver his body like a puppet.

You can rinse and sanitize the dishes later, but you grabbed a kitchen towel. Letting Jason sit at the dining table as you patched him up.

“I’m not mad, Jay. I was just surprised.” You disinfected his cuts, no reaction from Jason, probably from years of experienced pain. Years of trying to patch himself up.

It saddened you.

You didn’t realize the privilege of hating the pain of paper cuts and not stab wounds. Hating the sting of alcohol, not digging out bullets out of your skin.

“I know we haven’t seen each other and I’ve been missing you.” You cleaned up the miscellaneous bandage wrappers and sat in front of Jason. “But, you’re more stubborn than usual about this new jacket.”

You looked at Jason who was avoiding your eyes, rubbing at the bandages covering his skin.

With a sigh, he reached for your hand. A silent reassurance as he found the words.

“I’ve missed you too. That jacket—it’s been with me since I’ve met you. I’ve had it too long to just get rid of it.” He admitted, fluffy hair drooping the more he talked.

He continued.

“It’s just…hard to part with it. When I saw the new stitches, it felt good that a part of you was with me on patrol. We’ve also been so busy, I can only see you for a split second before one of us leaves. I know you wanna replace it, but…I need it.” Jason rubbed at your knuckles.

You put your hands on top of Jason’s, reciprocating the rubs as you listened.

“I didn’t know.” You gazed up to Jason, who hung his head down.

Vulnerability was a step that both of you had to learn. You focused too much on Jason, constantly forgetting about your own feelings and Jason still needed help in rightfully expressing his emotions.

You had barely made time to enjoy each other and despite living with one another, you weren’t updated in each other’s lives.

“I’m sorry.” You pecked Jason’s hands.

“Why are you apologizing? I raised my voice and broke a cup.” Jason leaned forward, hesitantly bringing his face and body closer to yours.

You stayed still, not to frighten his advances, to tell him it was okay.

“I would’ve known about this if I had made time for us. I’ve been so focused on work that I haven’t been able to even do simple chores.” You touched your forehead to Jason’s. “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep in next to you and go for a lunch date. But even that’s asking for too much, I guess.”

The vulnerability covered the two of you in a single blanket. Protecting and helping both of you finally be honest.

“No, no, don’t apologize for that. I was ready to help you in any way I could.” Jason kissed your eyelids as you closed them, the exhaustion slowly easing from your bones as you kept contact with him.

He held your face, hands wrapped in bandages.

“All I ask is you take care of yourself.” Jason whispered. Watching your lips, watching your eyes.

“All I need is my Jason recharge. I’m on empty.” You lightly chuckled, sleepiness apparent in your voice.

“I think I could spare some time.” Jason teased, kissing the corner of your lips.

You nudged his shoulder playfully.

“Shut up and kiss—.” You breathlessly pulled at Jason’s shirt.

Before you could even finish your request, Jason leaned in, using his thumb to rest on your chin, opening your mouth for him.

The rhythm was slow.

Jason always started like that, letting you control how far and how soon you wanted him.

Your face heated, letting feeling take over.

Your grip on his shirt got tighter.

Jason pulled your chair closer.

When it wasn’t close enough, he grabbed you to sit on his lap.

Effortlessly, you rested yourself on his thighs, making your body flush with his.

Grabbing at the roots of his hair, you tried to inhale his hums.

Your imaginary battery was slowly filling, maybe you would need to take this a step further for a full recharge.

As Jason’s grip got stronger on your skin, your breaths louder, and the more you pulled at his hair, he got more restless.

In one lift, Jason got you off his lap, laying you onto the dining table.

He leaned his body between your legs.

You watched his beautiful flush face as he lifted your shirt, his hands just as flushed as he kissed down your abdomen.

“Jay, I think I’m too tired to help you.” You breath hitched.

“Relax, this is my recharge too.” Jason leaned his cheek on the inside of your thighs, kissing the sensitive skin before a call rung from his phone.

It vibrated repeatedly as Jason continued to keep his attention on you.

When the ringing stopped, you could focus again.

Then the same ringtone started again as Jason’s face scrunched.

“Dammit, I’m gonna kill whoever—“ Jason reluctantly walked away from the table you laid on.

“You better be on the verge of dying, so I can go over there and finish the job, Dickwad.” Jason watched you sit up.

Another huff came out of his mouth as he was not pleased that he wasn’t getting his alone time with you.

Then your phone rung from the chair you were previously on.

Your stupid boss had decided to call about some other task he thought was too important for him.

With reluctance, you answered.

Both of you were disappointedly looking at each other as you were both occupied.

When both calls ended, you silently stared at each other.

You sat on the edge of the table and Jason stood in front of you.

He offered you a hand and you slowly fell into Jason. Burying your face into his chest.

“Sadly, we’re both needed somewhere. I think we need to take a rain check.”

“Can’t believe I have to set up an appointment to get laid.” Jason sighed into you.

You laughed out loud.

“Maybe if a miracle happened tomorrow, but we have the weekend.” You kissed Jason one last time.

—

The next morning, you woke up passed your alarm. Jason’s muscular arms and his even breaths were too soothing that it blocked out the repeated ringing.

The bus was arriving in 15 minutes.

You rushed outta bed, grabbing your keys, putting on mismatching socks on the floor.

Jason lazily perched his head up at all your movement, absently watching you run around.

“Sweethe—“ He called out.

“Shit, did I finish the report?” You ran to grab your laptop.

“My lo—“

“My watch! Crap, I didn’t iron my shirt for the meeting today.” You grabbed your bag.

“What about—“ Jason tried to interrupt.

“I gotta go, but let’s eat out tonight? I’ll call you when I get off.” You ran out the door, blowing air kisses to Jason.

You barely managed to get on the bus before the doors shut and you were scrambling to get yourself in a seat.

After a deep breath, you were gonna make it to work.

A late start, but you made it. You stepped off the bus, walking to the large building that made your jaw drop the first time you laid eyes on it, but it didn’t seem all that spectacular after a couple years of seeing it.

As you were walking, several people were rushing out the building.

Crowds walking out in large strides, taking what they could as papers fumbled out the doors.

You watched in confusion.

What sick villain was wreaking havoc on your building at eight in the morning?

You were about to turn around when your coworker bumped into you.

“Thank goodness you’re out. I was worried when I couldn’t find you.” They grabbed your arm, giving you a once over as you stood there.

“What happened?” You looked up at the building. It seemed fine.

“We gotta go, they got the boss and I don’t wanna be next.” Your coworker pushed you across the street, trying to get you farther from the sea of people shoving you outta the way.

“What?”

“I don’t know, but it all happened so fast, then all the alarms started and ya know when shit starts happening you gotta get outta there. One moment I was making scans, then the boss’ computer flew right by head and his glass walls were shattering. I saw the back of a big red guy and I just got this job, so I ran. I only need to see the back of Nightwing, if you know what I mean—“ You coworker rambled.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes widening at the realization.

“That son of a—“ You raised your voice before your phone rung from your pocket.

You angrily tapped the accept button before you were yelling at the invisible person, yanking your arm out of your coworkers.

“You crazy motherfucker—“ You swerved your body back toward the building, tension built up in your bones that you could only angrily walk back to the building in chaos.

Tons of employees dodging you.

“You forgot your lunch, so I decided to deliver it myself. I hope I got the right floor—“ Jason sung into the phone, walking past a suited man kneeling on the floor, glass digging into his knees.

“What are you doing?!” You marched to the front entrance, gripping your phone as you shoved the doors open.

Jason walked over to sit in the swivel chair, pushing himself to spin once and throw his boots on the overpriced desk. Not caring about dirtying the papers on it.

“Don’t worry, my love. We all make mistakes. We can all be forgetful.”

“What?!” You pushed the elevator button, waiting for the doors to open, but the wait only made you angrier.

“You broke a promise, sweetheart.” Jason spun a pen on his finger, letting gravity and motion balance the pen perfectly.

“What are you talking about.” You entered the elevator and pushed the button for your floor.

“You can’t even remember.” Jason glanced over to your boss still on the floor, motioning with his hands dramatically pointing to the phone. “What am I going to do? This is ridiculous, right?”

Despite your boss not being able to hear the conversation, he fearfully nodded his head quickly, not quite understanding why the Red Hood made a visit in broad daylight. Sweat beating on his forehead.

As Jason counted the elevator rings for every floor you passed, he smiled while on you stayed on the line.

Covering the bottom half of the phone, Jason looked at your boss, his helmet staring down the man.

“Beat it.” Jason commanded, not an ounce of the sweet playfulness he spoke with before.

Your boss was frozen, scared and confused as he looked back at the vigilante sitting in his chair.

In one motion, Jason nodded at the door, never saying another word as your boss ran out the door, throwing his body into the emergency exit stairwell, hopping down the steps.

Now with the man gone, Jason strolled to the elevator.

“You better be gone when I get there Jason Peter Todd—“ As soon as the elevator doors opened, Jason grabbed you, swinging you into his arms as he lifted his helmet and passionately kissed you in the aftermath he created.

In one woozy turn, you were back on your feet as you tried to process everything.

“Now that you fulfilled your promise, I would tell you to have a nice day at work, but, well…” Jason glanced around the office floor. Some lights burnt out and others flickered. You watched as glass littered the floor and chairs were thrown as everyone fled their way out. “You might be out for a couple days. The food is probably cold anyway, so let’s go out for lunch instead.” Jason grabbed you by your waist as he led you to a window he smashed open.

He smugly took your hand and swung your arms as he spoke, overjoyed.

“Watch your step, please.”

“You’re so dead when we get home.” You grabbed onto his arm, afraid to look out the edge of the building.

“What’s another death?” Jason held you tightly to his side. “If it’s by your hands, I’d face death any day.” He looked at you through the red helmet, his words modulated. It would’ve been swoon worthy if he didn’t just evacuate your entire work building, probably humiliated your boss, and costed you your job.

“I’m for sure fired.” You hit your head against Jason’s chest plate.

“Tim wiped all the service and power a mile out. Cameras stopped working before I even stepped in here. I tampered with the security myself, a personal touch. It’s like you weren’t even here, besides your boss isn’t so innocent, but Dick’s got him, he owes me for last night.” Jason’s gloves rested on your sides.

“How did you even convince him?” You couldn’t believe Jason would even ask for the help.

“Blackmail.”

You didn’t believe a second of anything that came out of Jason’s mouth.

After you gave a blank face to Jason, his helmet was looking back at you until he finally broke.

“Fine, it was a humiliating picture of Bruce I’ve kept for the perfect opportunity.”

“You risked all that because I forgot a goodbye kiss?” You raised an eyebrow.

“That you promised.” Jason emphasized.

You could only laugh out of disbelief.

“Fair enough.” You looked out toward the blue sky, wind picking up against your face at this height. “Your banned from any kisses for a week for this.”

“Sorry, wind is picking up!” Jason fell out the window with you in his arms. Grappling hook dragging your bodies across the city.

[brittle-doughie]

If I had nickel for every time I saw a demon butler in media I watch, I would have three nickles. (1. Peppermint Butler. 2. Sebastian (Black Butler) 3. Barbatos (Obey me))

So i decided to create my own for y/n cookie.

If you see a house that was emitting an ominously shining crimson light, stay away from it, as it belongs to the evil witch that created Crimson Berry Cookie. From the moment he was born, he developed an interest towards dark magic, maybe due to fact that he was baked with half of dark magic and half of enchanted berries. After he was taken under Evil Witch's teaching, that interest seems to be intensified as he learned more and more dark secrets of magic. But after Evil Witch was gone, he was ready to leave behind the house he was born in and follow his own dark path. But which this path leads to? What exactly is his goals and motives?

Crimson Berry Cookie is often portrays calm, professional, but sometimes a mischievous and carefree behavior. He is Y/N Cookie's devoted servant and mostly seen helping Y/N cookie with deeds in the castle or around kingdom, to most cookies he is a trusted member of cookie kingdom, but to more perceptive ones, there is more to him than meets the eye.

From the moment he met them, he wanted to get close to them somehow, so he found a way by becoming their butler. He won't let other cookies to hurt them, even those above him, as even most powerful ones have a weak spots.

Due to growing up under evil witch, his sense of morality is rather questionable and warped. He is capable of getting close to someone and appreciates loyalty above all else, but he also won't hesitate taking his loved ones' souls and be with them forever, (If Y/N cookie would crumble or something else) but he would be alright to serve Y/N cookie for eternity if they were immortal. Not only that, but he is rather experienced and knowledgeable about magic and supernatural, thanks to that, he is very capable of protecting kingdom from numerous threats.

Despite his questionable activities, he is genuinely devoted to y/n cookie and their kingdom, using his powers and knowledge for the sake of kingdom's protection and y/n Cookie's.

He is actually a fan of Dark Enchantress Cookie, but he won't join Cookies of Darkness due to already devoting himself to y/n cookie, he would've joined them if he met them first though. But... If y/n cookie is part of cod or joined them, he would've became cookie of darkness as well.

Yeah, with that tapping into the darkness side of him, he may not be all that trusted around the entourage Cookies. As depicted above, with Dumpling being the most off-put by him.

[sweetestberryofthebunch]

Maya Mason x Intern!Reader HCs

We have a solid 10 minutes of screen time and I have MUSINGS so. You’re welcome.

Content/Warnings: Fluff and Smut, NSFW content separated from SFW, afab!reader but no pronouns used, one good girl mention, power dynamics, bitches be switches, mentions of some anal play, free use kink, degradation and praise, Orgasm denial, semi public sex

Tagging @msharkness here u go angel 💚

SFW:

When you started the position, everyone at the Studio pitied you. Maya is loud, audacious and not exactly known to cooperate very well. She has chased many interns right out of the industry.

But you refuse to let her break you. Every task she gives you, no matter how outlandish or ridiculous, you fulfill with bravado, handing her a finishes report just hours after. So of course, she begins to take a liking to you.

Every morning, Maya makes you grab her reusable mug and run to Starbucks. The reusable mug looks good for her image, but in reality she couldn’t care less about the environment.

You know she starts to like you when one day, there’s a second cup on the desk next to hers. When you ask which one she wants her drink in, she rolls her eyes. “Mine, obviously. The other one is for you. Go get whatever you like, before i change my mind. I want my usual!”

All your coffee and lunches are charged from her credit card.

You have lunch with her in her office, where she tells you the latest gossip from set as well as all her frustrations about her idiot coworkers. Seriously, if it wasn’t for her this company would have already failed.

She is short. Definitely shorter than you. At first, she seems very bothered by it. As your relationship develops, she starts to enjoy when you rest your chin on her shoulder or her head though.

She’ll grab you by the back of your head and place you there, your arms wrapping around her waist so she can rest her hands over yours.

As a boss, she’s quite strict and has very high standards. However, at parties and galas she will sing your praises to everyone who will listen, especially A List celebrity guests.

Its how Charlize theron learned your name. A fact that still makes your head spin to this day.

For your anniversary, she gifts you a small necklace with an M as a charm. When you ask how you’re supposed to explain it at work, she scoffs. “Make something up. I thought you’re in creative marketing.”

„Be a doll and fetch me those files from the art department. That’s my good girl.“

„Baby“ „Angel“

Once you go official at work, and honestly even before that, she always has a hand on your lower back, manicure digging into the fabric of your shirt.

She just likes to have you close, likes when people can see she has claimed on you first.

At work, she keeps pda on a minimum, she has too many responsibilities for that. But at home, she’s a big cuddler.

Loves to curl into your side or lay on top of you on the couch, loves her hands on her waist.

Adores it when you play with her hair, brush it, braid it, wash it for her when you shower together. Its one of the few times she melts into you, just lets herself relax and enjoy.

Maya is not a big fan of cooking, except for breakfast. Every morning, she will make you the best breakfast you coule imagine. Eggs, warm toast with molten butter, bacon and sausages, a little yogurt parfait with fresh berries and granola.

Her habit of making a big breakfast single handedly turned you into a morning person, because there is no way you’re missing out on your daily feast. Or the view of her in her satin pyjamas and fluffy socks, hair unkempt in a big bun on her head, the freckles on her nose full display.

You sit at your usual spot on the counter, watching her work away. She’ll brush past you, getting on her tiptoes to steal a quick kiss.

Or she’ll cage you in by planting her hands on the counter, taking her sweet time as she kisses you slowly, languidly.

If you’re late for work no one dares to comment on it because she tends to unleash hell on those who attempt to

At work, she has a strict no kiss policy. However that doesn’t extend to other activities…

NSFW:

Her work is frustrating. God its so frustrating. Thank goodness she has you at her beck and call, always there to help her out however she needs at the moment.

Loves to take you in her office, bent over her desk as she lets all her frustrations about her coworker’s incompetence out in you.

Or, when she’s stuck on desk duty, she likes to have you bent over her lap, lazily playing with you with one hand as she answers emails and calls with the other.

Both holes. I would even say she loves to tease your ass actually.

If you’re lucky, she was merciful enough to bite her nails off first. But you definitely had to take the full acrylics at least once when she was too worked up to care.

She made sure to take care of you afterwards, got you an ointment for the scratches and was extra gentle with you the next few days.

You have a free use agreement at work, if she needs to blow off steam, you are always right there to give her what she wants.

„I don’t know why Tyler would approve these candids.“ „I don’t know why you’re not bent over this desk yet.“

Maya makes sure you sit next to her in board meetings. When the conversation bores her, she‘ll just entertain herself by sneaking her hand between your legs. She loves to watch your face as you try to remain composed.

You can tell when she gets hates a pitch because she‘ll thrust into you harder under the table, and when she likes something she‘ll focus on circling your clit instead.

She’s absolutely a powerbottom at heart, and teaches you exactly how to please her and expects you to deliver. It you don’t, she‘ll keep you denied until you prove you deserve her touch.

She can leave you squirming for days, but you better never try to deny her. She will turn into an absolute brat if you do. No one denies her what she wants.

She has a tongue piercing that most people don’t know about, but it’s one of your favourite secrets about her. For obvious reasons.

At home, away from her dumbass coworkers and the fast paced work environment, she is a lot more gentle with you.

She loves to take long, steaming hot baths with you, making out sloppy as you take turns riding each others thigh, movements lazy and slow.

If you really want to treat her, you turn her around and gently thrust your fingers into her from behind, her knuckles white as she gripe the edge of the tub.

At work, all you get from her is sharp orders and degradation, but in the safety of her home, she whispers sickly sweet praise into your ear, talking you through it gently.

Seriously, the only time you can shut her up for a moment is when you have her in your lap, strap buried deep inside her as she rides out her orgasm, head thrown back and nails digging into your scalp. And even then she’s vocal, just not exactly coherent.

After, she will call you a good pet, hers and only hers, her treasure. Always whispered quietly into your ear as your arms are around her sweat coated body, but she means every word nonetheless.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

A Parasite

Norae was always... resistant to having a doll. Her covenmates tell her about theirs like they're little slave-things, always wandering around your house and doing things you should be doing on your own. It's creepy, and (she would never say this out loud) enabling laziness.

But as her power grows, so does her manor. She begins noticing hallways stretching out longer than they once did, with protrusions shaped like doorknobs emerging from the walls. There's already a set of stairs leading uselessly into the ceiling, no doubt where the second story will begin to grow.

The effort she put into keeping things in order used to be paltry for a witch as powerful as her, but she's starting to get annoyed by the distractions. She is growing tired of pruning new furniture like weeds.

She knows nothing of clockwork, and she never developed her skills in magical dollcraft for obvious reasons. But she will sometimes catch sight of a stray, trying to find purpose in picking the wild berries just beyond her yard. She wonders if she'll be helpful enough, before quietly correcting herself and wondering if it will be helpful enough.

She told her coven how she was thinking about leaving a sort of trap for it, a cup of tea under a cardboard box held up with a stick, only half serious. Regardless, they told her that dolls are much more trusting and docile than she was assuming, and that she simply needed to approach and talk to it.

She waited with a book, just on the edges of her property. The wide brim of her hat helped block the glare of the sun as she'd occasionally look off through the trees. Soon, it came walking past her unceremoniously, seeming as if it's trying to ignore her. It's walking to the bush. There's already a few ripe berries piled neatly in its hand.

It was made with porcelain, with a more tattered version of the maid dress they all seem to wear, walking with just as much rigidity and poise. But this is the first doll she's seen with a wind-up key. It slowly turned just a few degrees for every moment that passed. She could see a little rope tied to one of the sides, presumably so that one could wind it on her own.

"Excuse me? ...Doll?" Just as she starts speaking, it perks up, looking ready to leap into action. "Y... yes, Miss?" Its voice is timid, but eager.

"Would you like to, uh..." She hesitates for a moment, feeling ridiculous. This is the first time she's had to say something like this out loud. "Belong to me? I have tea."

It gasps. "Yes! Oh, yes, thank you Miss!" She runs up to the witch as if to give her a hug, only to skitter to a last-second stop just in front of her and give a polite bow, with proper curtsy.

"Right. Um, follow me, then." She closes her book and begins walking back to her door, her movements awkward as the doll followed close behind. She can't stop looking back at it, at its bizarrely serene face and excited steps. "So, do you have a name?"

"This one's old witch called it Lullaby, Miss!" It seems so happy to say.

"That's... still your name then, I think."

"Yay! Thank you Miss!"

. . . . .

Colloquially, the word "doll" is often used to describe any construct that obeys a witch, with considerable variation thereupon. Perhaps the most infamous among these variants in classification is the combat doll. These ones can often be identified by their more metallic exterior, such that they can easily be confused for androids at first glance, but there also exists combat dolls that

"Excuse this one, Miss?" the thing knocks at the door to the witch's study. It lingers in the doorway, not wanting to intrude further.

Norae tries to stifle a sigh of annoyance as she turns away from her book. "Yes, Lullaby?" She just noticed that her its hair just a little dishevelled from working, but it's not nearly as matted and gnarled as it was earlier today. She's glad it looks so much more... healthy.

"This one has finished sweeping the first floor, Miss!" The doll smiled, clearly proud of herself. The witch is caught in her own head for only a moment, ruminating on owning someone... something so close to a human. "What would you like it to do next?"

"You..." it takes her a moment to stifle her shock. She's read enough to know that such a task is to be expected from dolls, but it still seemed to work so hard so fast. "Then you've completed your chores. Treat yourself to some tea." She tells it matter-of-factly and turns back to her book, trying to match the professionalism of her literature.

"But, Miss!" The doll says. Norae turns back, and sees the doll has a very human, very concerned look. "This one has barely worked today! Would you like it to scrub the floors as well? Or organize your bookshelf? It can cook for you, Miss!"

"Hey, calm down, it's alright." The doll's owner tries to sound reassuring, as one would to a friend. "I don't know how your last witch did it, but I don't want to overwork you. Do you like to read? I have a library."

The doll tried to swallow its apprehensive look. "This one will read for you, Miss." It nods dutifully and runs along.

That... went well, she thinks. She understands that dolls are... eager, to a certain degree, but she's sincere about not wanting to exhaust the poor girl thing. She also thinks about her own autonomy, and how listless she'd feel if left without her own chores.

. . . . .

Norae lets out a bored sigh as she watched the vegetables sizzle in their pan. She tries to stir them around, spreading them evenly in the oil, but it's more to entertain herself than to properly cook.

She hears Lullaby quickly, yet still with a polite reservation, hurry up the stairs.

"Miss!" It calls out, drowning out its footsteps before it turns the corner. As it emerges into the kitchen, it looks... mortified. "It's so sorry, let this one, good dolls should-"

"Lullaby, it's okay!" She holds the frying pan up, higher than the doll can reach. "You don't have to do everything for me just because you're a doll."

"But, Miss, this one wants to!" It looks desperate and pleading. "Please, Miss, you've been so nice, and this-"

"Hey, calm down, there's no need for that." Norae tries to sound reassuring. She sets the pan down and turns to give Lullaby her full attention, kneeling to match her its eye level and placing a hand on its shoulder. "I know you want to help, but I enjoy being able to take care of myself, too. You already do plenty, and you should be proud of that."

The doll trembles, only as much as its docility will allow. "Yes Miss, Thank you Miss." After a quick bow, it gets out of Miss's way, leaving her to return to her monotonous stove-watching.

Lullaby takes a seat on Miss's couch. eyes forward and hands on its lap. It's so comfortable, the soft cushioning much more enveloping that the stumps it was used to sitting on. It tries to find a place to rest its eyes. On Miss's roaring fire, magically permeating a tender warmth through the room? On the door to the maid's quarters, where Miss had cleaned it and told it all it had to know? On Miss's beautiful and intricate grandfather clock, which it is letting collect a thin layer of dust?

It shouldn't cry. Miss is being nice, after all.

. . . . .

The doll shakes itself from a stupor. It wasn't still; there was no comfort in its emptiness, just effortful restraint fading into a half-present miasma.

Norae gestures for it to face away, gently guiding its shoulders to face where she sat on the couch. "Lean forward, please."

"It's okay, Miss." The doll sounded groggy, words tumbling heavily out of its mouth. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

The witch leaned to the side, showing the sympathetic look she had on her face. "Why wouldn't I wind you up? It's no trouble at all, and... I can't just let you pass out."

Lullaby slowly, heavily, shook its head. It wanted to be polite, to word itself delicately and reserve itself, but its clockwork was moving too slowly to stop it before it spoke. "No, please. It's a bother. This one doesn't do enough, it's not worth it."

Miss places a hand on its shoulder. "Oh, Lullaby, no, that's not true at all. You do just as much as you need to."

"It's not enough." The doll rested its elbows on its knees, leaning forward and cupping its face in its hands. "Miss is so nice, and this one just... takes it all in without giving enough back. It feels so useless, and pathetic, and... i-it just wants to be helpful." Its voice falters just at the end, hitching into a repressed sob.

Norae felt a pang in her heart that deepened with every word. Of course, she's been such an idiot. She feels like a bum when she doesn't keep herself busy, how would a being purpose-made to be helpful feel? It finally dawns on her, what the extent of a doll's inhumanity means.

"I'm so sorry, I... had no idea you felt that way." There's a sincere sorrow in her voice, the doll hearing Miss's confidence drop for the first time. "I never meant to hurt you, I just didn't want to be too hard on you."

She placed a hand on her doll's back, careful to leave room for its key to turn. "From now on, you get to do whatever you like. Cooking, cleaning, anything. I might still make you take some breaks so I can do something myself, but I'll never leave you with nothing to do."

Lullaby slowly, hopefully, lifts its head to look at Miss. "This one doesn't want to make you do anything you don't want, Miss, it can-"

"Lullaby, if you do everything you can to never feel like this again, you'll make me the happiest witch in the world." She put on a reassuring smile.

Norae didn't have time to see the grin widening on her doll's face before it latched on for a hug. All it could say was thank you as its tears left wet marks on the witch's dress.

"I'm just happy that you're happy." Miss hugged back, making the doll feel more loved than it could remember. "Now let's get you wound up, you've got some dishes to do."

[lilianasgrimoire]

Herbs & Correspondences G-L

Galangal Root - Also called Lo John the Conqueror or Lo John. Carry into legal proceedings to help win. Money, gambling and hex breaking.  Also aids luck and psychic development. Element Fire. 

Garlic - Magical uses include speed, health and endurance, also protection, exorcism and purification. Use also to promote your inner strength.  Element Fire. 

Gentian - Increases spell power. Good luck and works well in love & romance spells. Element Fire. 

Ginger - Increases magic power. Success, love, money and power.  Element Fire. 

Ginseng - Promotes love, beauty, healing and lust.  Element Fire. 

Hawthorn Wood- Associated with Beltane. Magical uses include chastity, fertility, fairy magic, fishing magic, and rebirth.  Success in career, work, and employment. Use it to work with the fae. Used in weddings and handfasting's to increase fertility. Element Water.  Hawthorne Berries aid chastity. Hope, protection and happiness. Element Fire.  

Hearts Ease - Also called Violet.  It helps to mend a broken heart. Aids rebirth, peace, wishes and luck.  Calms the nerves and promotes peace and tranquility. Element Water.  

Hemlock - Use to paralyze a situation and a funeral herb. Highly Toxic.  Element Water.   

Henbane - Dried leaves are used in the consecration of ceremonial vessels. Used in love sachets and charms to gain the love of the person desired. Highly Toxic. Element Water.  

Hibiscus - Attracting love and lust.  Use in divination. Associated with lunar magic.  Element Water. 

High John - (The Conqueror) An "all purpose" herb.  Use it for strength, confidence, conquering any situation.  Good luck, prosperity and protection. Element Fire.   

Holly Hock - Protecting, all Fairy magic, abundance, personal growth and aids passing. Related to Lammas. Element Earth. 

Horehound - Protective against evil doings. Helps with mental clarity during ritual; stimulates creativity/inspiration; balances personal energies and healing.  Element Earth.  

Horsetail - Use for strength and resolve. Protection, cleansing and clearing unwanted emotions.  Element Earth. 

Hyssop - Used for purification.  Banishing, protection and healing.  Element Fire. 

Irish Moss - Used for luck. Ideal for gamblers!  Attracts money and customers for self-employed. Offers protection. Element Water 

Ivy - Protection, healing and fertility.  Use for love and hang at handfasting's.  Element Fire. 

Jasmine - The herb of attraction.  Helps prophetic dreaming, money and love. Element Water. 

Juniper - See Cedar berries.  

Lady's Mantle - Aphrodisiac and transmutation. Use in love spells and those of fertility.  Increases magic power in spells and connects with fairy lore. Element Water. 

Laurel- See Bay leaf. 

Lavender - Magical uses include healing, sleep and peace. It also promotes chastity and love. Increases longevity of life, tranquility and happiness.  Element Air. 

Lemon Balm - Also called Melissa. Love, success and healing.  Aids psychic/spiritual development. Supports mental health disorders and compassion. Element Water.     

Lemon Grass - Psychic cleansing and opening.  Use in lust potions and when using Dragon Magic.  Element Air.  

Licorice Root - Love, lust, and fidelity. Also attracts passion. Element Water. 

Lilac - Wisdom, memory, good luck and spiritual aid.  Element Water. 

Linden Flower - Wisdom, justice, love and protection. Element Air. 

Lime Tree Leaf - Healing, calm and love.  Aids strength and tranquility.  Element Air. 

Little John - See Galangal root. 

Lungwort - Use in air magic or as an offering to the Gods of air.  Offers safe travel when flying. Element Air.  

[tiredwitchplant]

It's Time for Samhain! (Oct 31- Nov 1)

What is Samhain? In the Celtic calendar, Samhain marks the end of summer and the harvest season, and the beginning of the dark, cold winter months. It falls opposite Beltane on May 1, which represents the beginning of spring and the life-filled growing season.

It’s believed that the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest on Samhain. Historically, people were worried that they would encounter ornery spirits if they ventured outside on Samhain night, so they dressed as ghosts or wore masks to disguise themselves. Folks would leave treats on their front porch or place an extra setting at the table to welcome any friendly spirits who stopped by. You can see how these Samhain rituals easily morphed into our modern-day version of trick-or-treating in costume.

Nighttime bonfires were another of the long-standing Samhain rituals - this one was thought to help combat the impending darkness of winter and the fearful chill that accompanied the idea of roaming spirits. Because the veil between living and dead is believed to be the thinnest on this night, Samhain is also a powerful night for divination and spellcasting by candlelight.

Usual Symbols of Samhain:

Ale or Mead

Pumpkins

Skulls

Besom or Broom

Beans

Cauldron

Bats

Keys

Squash

Pomegranate

Nuts

Apples and Cider

Bones

Herbs and Plants for Samhain:

Rosemary – Associated with remembrance and is needed during this season in taking time to honor the memories of our ancestors and other lost loved ones. Can be used in an incense blend and at ancestor altar

Fall Flowers – Includes flowers like marigolds and chrysanthemums. Are associated with protection and chrysanthemums come in handy with connecting to the spirit world

Apples (the fruit, branches and blossoms) – Is considered sacred to a lot of gods. A good apple harvest means that the gods have shown the community their favor. You can use apples in different rituals, especially divination

Pomegranates – Is associated with the realm of the underworld and helps with communication with the dead. It is also associated with fertility of the fall.

Squashes, Pumpkins and Gourds – Is associated with abundance and provides sustenance for your family when the fields become bare and covered in snow. Is linked to psychic awareness and development and protection.

Mugwort – Is associated with divination and dreaming. Using Mugwort baths or incenses in the rituals can focus on treating depression, especially with the seasons changing

Rowan Trees – The branches and berries are a way to keep evil spirits out of your house and are associated with good health. If you plant a tree near a grave, it will prevent the dead from rising.

Sage – Is associated with cleansing and grounding. Is a great incense to cleanse your home to bring in the new and out with the old

Hawthorn – Has been associated with the gateway between humans and the spirit world. Is also rumored to an area where you can see fairies.

Crystals for Samhain:

Amethyst – Aids in opening one’s third eye and is valuable to be able to see Samhain’s spirits around

Black Obsidian – Is great for grounding and protect from evil spirits. Can be used in scrying when speaking to deities and spirits of Samhain

Citrine – Is used to honor the sun. Aids in prosperity spells and carries joy

Black Tourmaline – Wards off unwanted spirits from your property and can be buried into the ground to protect from psychic attacks and spirit intrusion

Orange Calcite – Orange is a sacred color to Samhain. This stone is associated with one’s sacral chakra and can cleanse and align reproductive organs, sexuality and get creativity flowing

Bloodstone – Known to heal cardiovascular illness and disease. Can help with ancestry links and work

Spirit Quartz – Is great in helping communicate with the spirits of Samhain and releasing old and toxic habits

Lepidolite – Used to appease the fairies that roam during Samhain

Serpentine – Is associated with snakes and aids in remembering past lives. Loki seems to like this stone and may be great to use for him if you work with him during this season

Dragonstone – Dragons are guardians of the earth, spirits of place, and connect us to Mother Nature. Helps say goodbye to the old years and our old selves

Skull shaped Stones – Since skulls are symbols of Samhain, skull shaped stone can help with symbolism during this holiday. They represent the life-death-rebirth cycle, wisdom and our ancestors

Spells and Rituals:

A Samhain Tea (Apple and Hawthorn Berry)

1 apple, sliced

2 Tablespoon dried hawthorn berries (or 4 Tablespoons fresh)

1 cinnamon stick

A pinch of cloves

4 cups water

Honey, to taste (optional)

Combine all ingredients in a small stockpot.

Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes.

Strain the plant material from the tea, then transfer the tea into two mugs.

Enjoy one for yourself, and leave the other on your table or front porch to nourish any wandering spirits who may pass while the veil between the living and the dead is thinnest.

A Pumpkin Spell for Prosperity

A pumpkin

Some paint

Go to the pumpkin patch (or local store) and select a pumpkin. Or let the pumpkin choose you.

Bring it home and paint prosperity symbols on it – money signs, runes for prosperity or harvest glyphs (whatever means prosperity to you).

Then place by your front door to invite prosperous vibes into your home this Samhain season.

Bonfire Release Purification Spell

Paper

Pen

Source of fire (bonfire, fireplace, candle flame)

Gather your materials and sit by the fire.

Take a few minutes to just listen to the fire crackling.

Gaze into the flames and connect with this powerful element.

Next begin to think about what habit or person you are releasing this Samhain. Think about why you’re purifying your life from this thing or person.

Then write the habit or person down on the piece of paper.

Fold it away from you 3 times.

Hold it in your hands and allow all of the negative thoughts and energies inside of you to “drain” out of you and into the paper.

Then throw it in the fire and say,

“After this Samhain, never again. Never again. I release _________ from my life by the power of the Samhain fire. So, mote it be.”

How to Make a Samhain Altar

Beautiful autumn leaves or flowers that you collect on a nature walk

A candle

A mugwort bundle

A string of rowan beads

A bowl of apples or a small pumpkin

A hawthorn wand or bowl of freshly picked hawthorn berries

A picture of your ancestors

To make an altar, first find a corner of your home or a table surface where you can arrange a few treasures. You don’t need a ton of space. You could use the top of a dresser, the corner of your desk, an unused side table, etc. 

After you’ve assembled your altar, spend some time sitting quietly in the space. Light the candle and/or mugwort wand, sip on a cup of Apple & Hawthorn Berry Tea and meditate on this energetically powerful day. 

I could find specific written instructions for a crystal grid but I found a video!

Crystal Grid for Samhain

Let's get ready for Samhain and have a great and safe time!

[togenabi]

breaking news

roronoa zoro (opla) x journalist!reader

♡—you always had a feeling the straw hats could change your life, but meeting zoro shifted the entire world on its axis.

word count♡— 5.4k (omg?)

genre♡— fluff

content notes♡— opla zoro, afab!reader is a journalist whose boss is evil, inaccurate journalism and newspapery, mild violence, kissing/making out, alcohol consumption, long intro so start might be slowish?, no use of y/n, only slightly proofread

also on♡— ao3

author's note ♡— get yourself a man that can kick ass and let you use his arm as a tape dispenser

A stack of papers are slammed onto your desk. The pages are riddled with edits and red marks. Towards the end of the document, the person just started crossing out everything you had written.

“Stories like that won’t sell. It’s highly inappropriate.” Chief Editor Tildie scowls down at you. “Shame that you waste your talents on such rubbish.”

“But it’s not a story.” You mutter under your breath, not meeting her gaze.

“Did you say something?” She bends down, bracing one hand on the backrest of your chair.

“...No, ma’am.” Your response is barely a whisper, but she relents and begins to head back to her office.

“Stick to the politics and gossips, hon. If you know what’s good for you.” 

You almost break your pen in frustration.

All the other journalists in the room witnessed what happened, but they all keep their heads down, buried into their typewriters and desks. No one ever tries to fight for things to change anymore.

The Oceanic Times is such a joke. Why would a newspaper company named after the ocean not be allowed to publish anything related to it? Some people have said that the current chief is running the company to the ground. You’re beginning to think it’s true.

Running your palms over your face, you take deep breaths until you’ve calmed down somewhat. The first thing you see when you uncover your eyes is your article. The one you were so excited and passionate about.

You wrote about Orange Town, they had been suffering after the Buggy Pirates invaded. Everything was destroyed and the residents were imprisoned, forced to be the audience to their own home’s ruin.

Things had stayed that way for months, until the people were saved by pirates. It sounded so unlikely to happen, and yet it did. 

Knowing a scoop when you saw one, you sent a letter to Mayor Boodle along with some berry to donate for the town’s restoration. You tried asking if he wouldn’t mind being interviewed on what happened. 

He agreed. The result was an excellent piece on how a small group of rag-tag startups got the better of Buggy the Clown, saving an entire village from his reign of terror.

…And yet, this is what you get for your hard work. Your fingers trace the red marks and strikethroughs Editor Tildie made.

You know you’re right, people around here could do with some accessible, actual news and well-researched information. But simply knowing what’s right doesn’t come with the power to fix things, doesn’t it? 

The window by your desk offers you a view of the sun setting. It was one of the things that thrilled you when you first started, having a desk on the second floor. You were so determined back then.

It’s getting far too difficult to breathe in here. You grab your pen and treasured notebook, leaving the newsroom behind.

Your feet take you to the harbor. It’s quiet, with only a few fishermen around. You find yourself gazing out into the sea. The waves push and pull and ripple in patterns that calm you down. 

For a world with so many pirates, and many enthralled by the idea of adventure, you’re sure your writing will be appreciated… It will be appreciated here, eventually.

Once, you thought about moving somewhere else. Maybe to a bigger city and work under a more renowned publisher. But you like this town too much for that. There’s a good balance of things; it has all the amenities of a developed town, but is still close enough to adventurous waters. 

This place could be an excellent hub for information. If only you got the chance to show others what you dream of.

You know some people who are eager to leave, however. Some of your friends would give anything to work in some big city paper. You even heard rumors of Chief Editor Tildie applying for work in the East Blue Daily.

Oh, what you’d give to write about real news and the feats people are achieving. Letting out a sigh, you wonder where those upstart pirates are now.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait too long to find the answer. One of your co-workers bursts through the door a few weeks later, holding onto the wall to steady himself and catch his breath.

“Arlong has been defeated!”

Everyone in the newsroom stops what they're doing. Even Chief Editor Tildie looks shocked.

Apparently, Marines were chasing down a group of pirates, and those same pirates saved a village in the Conomi Islands from Arlong.

Pirates saving people? Could it be?

“It’s a new pirate crew, but they’re really powerful!” Your co-worker explains further. “Roronoa Zoro is second in command, and their captain took down Arlong by himself!”

“Does the captain wear a straw hat?” You ask, but something already made you sure he did.

“Yeah, here!” He passes you a wanted poster.

A boy is smiling in the photo, wearing the same straw hat Mayor Boodle mentioned to you. 

“Is that why there have been more pirates around lately?” Editor Tildie says gruffly. “Darn sea lovers should stay at sea.”

No one comments on how Editor Tildie curses like a pirate. You value your jobs (and lives) too much. (But everyone thinks it.)

Another thing no one mentions is the excitement that seems to buzz through everyone. Like an electric current, making the air feel alive and crackle with an energy you haven’t seen in this newsroom in a long while.

News is about to break. You have work to do.

Your research leads you to trace the Straw Hat Pirates’ steps. A map of the East Blue is laid across your desk, and you begin to plot the locations where they’ve been. Holding your breath, you analyze their trail. 

It might not be so far-fetched to say that they could show up here.

You think of the article you wrote on Orange Town. It’s still there, you’ve kept it safe in the trusty notebook you keep strapped to your waist. You couldn’t bear to just scrap it. But, maybe there’s hope for it after all, now that those same pirates rose to prominence in such a short amount of time.

“Still working, huh?” One of the photographers asks you. “We’re all headed for the tavern if you want to join us.”

You smile, but can’t imagine leaving your desk for the foreseeable future. “Thanks, but maybe another night.”

Everyone else leaves, the only light left on in the office is from the lamp on your desk. The night blankets the newsroom in shadows, and you pour over your research in the welcomed silence.

A loud crash is heard outside.

Someone is getting beat up. You were just about to ignore it and chalk it up to a brawl between drunks, but you hear the local librarian yell out in fear.

You sit still for a second, steeling your resolve before rushing out to the scene. You may not know how to fight, but you should at least help the old man get out of there.

The library is the building beside the news publisher’s, so you see everything the moment you step out of the door.

Thankfully, the old librarian seems to be protected by a green-haired swordsman. He stands menacingly against several thugs, his sword glints under the moonlight. 

Not that the thugs look like they have a chance despite their numbers. Two of them are groaning and wounded on the ground, the other two are hiding behind a cart full of books.

The green-haired man raises his blade. “Cowards.” He spits out, looking severely unimpressed.

It seems he intends to strike the other two thugs where they stand, but the librarian begs the swordsman not to damage the cart or the books.

“Please!” The librarian wails. “Not the books!” Are his priorities on straight, you wonder?

“I don’t really care about that.” The man says, getting ready to charge at the men—through the books.

“Wait!” You yell, unable to just stand there. They all look at you with varying degrees of ‘who the hell is she?!’.

You use their surprise to your advantage, running quickly to the cart and pulling it out of the way. Everyone watches, astonished, as you take away the only thing that separated the thugs from the swordsman.

Said swordsman merely shrugs. “Fine.”

He’s so fast his form almost blurs. The thugs scream in fear, and for good reason. They’re cut down in two seconds.

“Oh thank goodness!” The librarian sobs, cradling the books that did not get shredded.

“Would you like some help carrying those inside?” You ask him, but he declines.

“No, it’s alright. Thank you for saving the books my dear. Pirates just can’t seem to fathom not solving things with violence.” 

You’re baffled at how the old man can smile at you then look at the swordsman in disdain in the same breath. Shouldn’t he be grateful his life was protected?

He leaves, heaving the books into the library, but you stop him.

“No, hold on, let us help you.” You try again. “We insist.”

“We do?” The stranger asks incredulously.

“Yes.” You say, gesturing at how the old librarian’s arms are about to give out.

The swordsman looks displeased, but retrieves the books anyway.

“And you, sir,” You turn to the librarian. “You should thank him.”

The old man sputters. 

“Don’t bother.” The stranger says. “Don’t even know why I did.”

The librarian huffs, but his glare falters this time. “...Thank you, lad.”

The green-haired man blinks. Like he doesn’t know what to do after somebody thanks him. It’s strangely endearing.

You both help the librarian get settled inside. It’s still painfully awkward, but you like to think that things turned out well.

The two of you leave the library together. Being in closer proximity, you get a better look at him. He’s exceedingly handsome, but what catches your eye are the three earrings dangling from his left ear.

Your eyes widen in recognition. “Roronoa Zoro.”

“...Do I know you?” He asks, looking at you impassively.

“I’m a journalist.” You say instead of answering him, as you introduce yourself. You point to the newspaper company next door

“Hm.” Is all you get from him. 

You expected many things if you ever met any of the Straw Hats, but extreme disinterest isn’t one of them.

“Do you think I could ask you a few questions?” You ask, hopeful to convince him.

“You get one, and you just asked. So I guess we’re done here.” Zoro says. “Here’s my question, where’s the closest place I can get a drink around here?”

Undeterred, you try to meet him in the middle, “I have a bottle of whiskey in my desk drawer with your name on it.”

When he doesn’t reject you outright, you realize you have a shot at this.

You step towards him, eyes not leaving his as you make him an offer. “How about, I get you a drink, and you answer some questions for me?”

The confidence you feel surging isn’t normal for you, but you lean into it. When else are you going to get this chance?

Zoro studies you, more seriously this time. You can tell the moment his eyes shift that he must see right through to you. That you’re no fighter, but you’re determined. You’ll follow him around town until he gives you what you’re looking for if he disagrees.

To your delight, he nods.

But when you enter the building, you find something that you didn’t expect.

The entire place looks like it had been ransacked. You gasp in horror at the mess. Papers were strewn everywhere, all the desks were in disarray. How could this have happened in the time that you were gone? 

Zoro steps in front of you protectively. A hand hovers on the handle of his blade as he surveys the damage. You can’t help but feel responsible for this.

You should have locked the door. You should have just called it a night. You should have just joined your friends for a drink and worked in the morning like a normal person. You should have—

“This isn’t your fault.” 

Zoro’s back is still to you. For a while, he simply stays still.

Then he says it again. Slower this time, as if to emphasize the words, “This isn’t your fault.”

It’s not much, but it manages to make you pull yourself together. He’s right, it isn’t. So you have to find out who did.

You and Zoro head deeper into the building, taking careful steps in search for clues.

Zoro eyes the staircase leading to the upper floor, and he holds out his arm to block you from going any further.

“What’s wrong?” You ask in a very hushed whisper.

He points up the stairs, where you see the shadow of someone moving.

“I’ll deal with them. Stay here.” He instructs, but you grab his arm before he can take another step.

“No!” You whisper-yell. “I’m going too.”

He gives you that same, unimpressed expression he seems to be so fond of. To be honest, you’re becoming fond of it too. The effect on you is waning, if that's any indication.

“Why do you always look for trouble?” Zoro sighs. “Do what you want.” 

Is it because he’s whispering, or does his voice lack its previous edge when he spoke to you?

You don’t have time to think more on that, however. Zoro begins ascending the stairs. You’ve never been more thankful that the steps are carpeted, your shoes would have clattered loudly otherwise. 

Together, without a sound, you reach the second floor landing. It’s dark, but the damage you see is no better up here. The intruder really left no surface undisturbed. 

Sounds of someone opening and shutting drawers alarms you. Zoro, very carefully, pulls out his sword.

More alarm bells start to ring when Zoro approaches the sound, and you realize it’s coming from your desk.

Zoro holds out an arm again, giving you a look that says stay put this time. Fine. You hang back while he impressively sneaks up behind the intruder without a sound.

The person is rummaging frantically through your desk, making noises that helps Zoro conceal himself. A document falls to the floor, and the shadowed figure kneels down to pick it up. 

Zoro points his blade to their neck before they can get up. They freeze.

You turn on the lamp on the desk nearest you. The light illuminates the room enough that you can finally see the intruder’s face.

Only, it isn’t an intruder.

“Chief Editor Tildie?” You gasp, confused.

Your boss looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but her expression suddenly melts into relief.

“Oh, I’m so glad you two got here! Everything was a mess there were, uh, robbers! Yes, yes—nasty thieves got into the building.” 

That doesn’t make any sense. What would thieves want to steal from a publishing business anyway? 

She cuts you off when you’re about to point out her suspicious behavior, “There were so many of them, I have no idea how they got in! I was going back to pick up some things, and the place was already like this.” 

“My dear…” Editor Tildie looks at you with mock concern, “You didn’t leave the door unlocked, did you?”

How dare she?

“You’re so full of shit.” Zoro tsks, inching his blade closer to her skin. “I would have noticed if a bunch of guys went through the front door.”

You blink when the puzzle clicks in your head. “She was in here the whole time.”

“You can’t prove anything, you wannabe writer!” Editor Tildie bursts out, her expression once again shifting back to panic.

“Who do you think they’re going to believe?” She glares, daring you. “You? Some no-name writer? Or ME, the Chief—”

Zoro knocks her head with the hilt of his sword. She falls with a thud.

You run a hand through your hair, letting out a long sigh. You’re exhausted, but you should really investigate why your boss did all this then try to put the blame on you.

Like the others, your desk was trashed. Even your notes are scattered all over the floor. The map you were painstakingly studying was torn in half. But strangely, the other things you had been working on are missing.

Zoro walks around the desk. “Over here.” He says, having found something.

It’s a large duffel bag, filled to the brim with papers of… rejected articles? You sift through the contents, they all seem to be your co-workers’ recent work. You remember proofreading several of them, everyone has been doing so well lately. 

But why would the Chief Editor steal these after rejecting all of them?

“Could you watch her for a minute, please?” You ask Zoro. “I need to check her office.”

Zoro looks at you strangely, you can’t quite pinpoint his expression. It’s half ‘you’re leaving me here, really?’ and half ‘will you be okay?’.

“Scream if you get into trouble.” He sighs, settling into your office chair. “‘Cause you eventually find it.”

You leave, shaking your head fondly. So he does care.

Inside the Chief Editor’s office, things are a mess as well. You suspect that was probably done to throw investigators off. But she left some things here, and from there, it’s easy to put together what happened.

A briefcase sits on her desk. It’s left open, with several letters lying inside. They’re all correspondence with famous newspapers.

‘The East Blue Daily would be delighted to host your article on the events in Orange Town. Please submit a draft at your earliest convenience. We are excited to...’

You have to set the letter down and stop reading. This bitch was planning to steal everyone’s work. Fury rushes into your head as you let out a disbelieving laugh. How could she do this after tearing everyone down?

It finally makes sense why she never greenlit any of the best articles. She probably sent them to other companies claiming they were her original work.

Judging from the other letters and her packed bags, she likely intended for this to be her last stunt. The Oceanic Times would sink into nothing, and she would be off to work for some famous paper.

And she was right. If you and Zoro hadn’t caught her, no one other than your co-workers would believe you that she did this. And none of you were reputable enough to be considered credible. You would probably have to take the fall for leaving the door unlocked, just like she planned.

Zoro calls out your name when you’ve been in here for a few minutes. Despite how drained and tired you feel, you gather the evidence in the suitcase, carrying it out with you. 

You must look worse than you thought, because Zoro’s brows furrow in concern when he sees you.

Zoro hasn’t gotten up from your chair. He remains silent and still, but his attention on you is unwavering.

“She was planning to steal our work.” You explain, sitting on top of your desk. “I would’ve been powerless.”

“Would’ve been.” Zoro says. “But you’re not.”

When he stands, you worry that he might be leaving you. But instead, he drags Tildie (who you notice has been tied up) and traps her in her own office. Zoro moves a desk to block the door.

As he pushes it, your eyes follow the movement of his arms. You have to turn away to hide your flustered expression. For some reason, you remember Tildie’s words about your article: this is highly inappropriate.

He comes back, reclaiming his (your) chair. His hands reach for something under the desk. Under your legs. This is highly—

All thoughts in your head stop on their tracks when he meets your eyes again. He’s holding the whiskey you mentioned. You were about to mention your surprise that he didn’t drink any yet, but the words die in your throat. It’s entrancing the way his eyes seem to glow the same color as the liquid. 

Zoro taps the glass with his fingers. “I think this bottle has both our names on it.”

If you were in a normal state of mind, you would probably be embarrassed by how much you’re crying in front of Roronoa Zoro. Maybe Zoro would even regret offering you a drink.

You’re not drunk yet, but you’re probably getting there since you’re becoming an emotional mess. Thankfully, Zoro is an excellent listener. You let everything out.

“I just want to write. I want people to read my work.” You sob as you tape your map of the East Blue back together.

Zoro hums, indicating he hears you. One of his arms is extended on your desk, laden with strips of tape. How you managed to use Roronoa Zoro as a tape dispenser is beyond you, but you feel strangely proud of it.

“Why don’t you write, then?” Zoro asks, not taking his eyes off you.

“I can’t!” You sniff before pulling another piece of tape from his skin. “Tildie—that bitch—do you know her? She’s awful, she never approves of our good articles.”

“She’s gone now.” He says. “You can write what you want.” 

“Oh.” Right. He’s right, of course he is. “Okay then.”

There’s a beat of silence while you fix your map. When you’re done, you beam at Zoro.

“I’ll write about you.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Will you, now?”

“You can bet on it.” Smoothing your fingers over your mended map, you say wistfully, “I wonder where you’ll head off to next.”

Before he can answer that, you voice out a thought that feels strangely sad.

“...I wonder if you’ll come back.”

You can’t even meet his eyes anymore. Half-drunk or not, you knew how embarrassing that was to say. You only met a few hours ago, but why does it feel like you’ll miss him more than anything when he leaves?

“That depends,” Zoro clears his throat. “Are you going to give me a reason to?”

The way your face lit up with shock and happiness was so adorable that it caught Zoro by surprise. He almost lets out a full laugh, but he manages to conceal it with a fake cough.

Leaning down, you grab his shoulder and pull him to you. The office chair rolls over to right where you want him.

This is highly inappropriate… But you can’t help yourself when you respond, “You can bet on that too.”

Kissing Zoro feels electric. You feel your head go fuzzy and your hands are eager to hold onto something. So you hold onto him; the back of his neck—thread your fingers into his hair. He keeps his hands on your waist. They do not wander, but he grips you like you’re some sort of lifeline.

Lifeline.

You break the kiss abruptly, getting an epiphany. This whole experience was a mess, but this could be the lifeline you've been waiting for.

Zoro groans, trying to pull you down for another kiss, but you stop him with a grin, “Do you think I could ask you a few questions?” 

Before the interview, Zoro set some ground rules. A few of them involved you, like how you were not to disclose your relationship unless absolutely necessary, since it could put you in danger.

Others involved his crew, such as he couldn’t go into detail with the members and their abilities. That would just be too risky.

The questions themselves don’t necessarily matter to you, since the interview alone will be a huge boost for The Oceanic Times. So you agree to all of his terms… Including the one where he gets a kiss for each answer he gives.

“When you met Luffy,” You begin, “Did you know that you were going to follow him? Or did it take some convincing?”

“Convincing.” Zoro answers.

You wait for him to elaborate. “...Is that it?”

“Yes.” He responds before nudging you, “That’s two.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you kiss him twice but pull away before he can deepen it.

He frowns at you, and you laugh as you ask your next question, “So you didn’t plan on becoming a pirate?”

“No.” 

“...”

“...”

“...Zoro, stop making me ask more than one question.” You say, unimpressed.

“Don’t ask questions that can be answered with one word, then.” He quips back challengingly.

You hate that he’s got you there. You miss his lips on purpose, kissing his cheek in retaliation.

“What was that?” Zoro complains.

“A kiss.” You answer smugly as you write things down in your notebook. You hit him with your last question.

“Why do you follow your captain?” 

To your credit, this one makes him think for a minute. 

“...Because we all have dreams, and we’re all going to get there together.”

You smile at him, touched. “That’s beautiful.”

Zoro makes a face, leaning back into his seat. “Nevermind, don’t write that down. I take it back.”

“Aw,” You tease. “I wonder what your captain will say about that.”

Zoro grumbles something about how he shouldn't have answered that, but you can tell he meant it. But not to worry, you weren’t about to write some sap piece his enemies can use against him.

You were going to make breaking news.

That was the plan. Or it was, until you fell asleep at some point during the night. You had pulled over another chair, working your typewriter to the bone as you burned through your adrenaline rush.

You woke up the next morning with Zoro leaning on your shoulder; he was still asleep. You took this quiet minute as an opportunity to admire him.

Things would have gone so much differently if he hadn't been around. You probably would have gone out to help the librarian with those thugs alone, and you wouldn’t have made it back to the office soon enough to catch Tildie.

Realization dawns on you. Tildie probably hired those thugs herself, so that you would be preoccupied. You make a mental note to have those thugs questioned later. 

All that’s happened… It was scary, yet exciting, since Zoro was with you. He makes you feel eager to find the next big story to write about.

He rouses at that moment, eyes slowly blinking awake. He yawns and stretches, and when he properly looks at you, he shakes his head at your expression.

“Now I know what face you make when you want to go looking for trouble.”

After you reach out to the authorities, Zoro leaves to find his crew. You were sure they were worried sick by now, since he’s been gone so long. He tells you that they’re scheduled to leave this afternoon.

You’ll miss him, but you know it’s for the best.

The harbor is bustling with life when you get there, the complete contrast to how it was months ago. Funny how in both times your feet take you here, you’re wondering where a certain group of pirates are.

But your pirate is easy to find, he’s waiting for you by his crew’s ship. 

“Came to give me a reason to come back?” Zoro jests, taking your hand once you’re close enough.

“Couldn’t wait to see you leave, actually.” You joke. He startles you by pulling you close.

You’re about to kiss him when he spots something over your head that makes him frown. Your eyes follow his gaze to find his crew members watching you both.

“Don’t mind us! We’re just enjoying the show!” The one with a bandana on his head yells out.

“Did I miss something? I missed something, didn’t I?” A blond man asks, his face completely flabbergasted.

“I think we all did.” The woman next to him remarks.

“But we’re really happy for you, Zoro!” Their captain cheers and whoops.

Indeed, now might be a good time for the sea to swallow you up. Maybe you should jump?

“Get lost.” Zoro snaps at them. They all holler and laugh, but do as he says.

“Um,” You say. Maybe you should just give him his farewell present to distract yourself from the embarrassment. “I got you this.” You hand him a folded piece of paper.

It’s your article on Orange Town. One of his very first adventures, and the moment you first heard of him retyped on a special kind of stationery and everything. You even made sure the ink is good quality so that it doesn’t fade. (You also spritzed it with your perfume, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

“Ask your friends to read it, please?” You request. “Then tell me what you all think about it.”

Zoro glances at the paper, recognizing how much work you put into it, and how much you went through to get to where you are now. 

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” The soft, small smile he gives you makes you feel weak in the knees.

He pulls you in again, his arms embracing your waist. You respond by draping your arms over his shoulders. Your fingers play with the back of his hair.

“Write to me?” You ask softly, only for him to hear.

“Writing isn't really my thing.”

You pout.

“...I’ll send you a postcard or something.”

A laugh escapes you. That was such a Zoro kind of compromise. “I’ll take it.”

“As for me,” He presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll take this.”

The kiss is different from the kisses you shared last night. Maybe it’s because you don’t know when the next one will be. He kisses you dearly, showing you how much he cares when he holds the sides of your face tenderly.

“...See you soon.” You greet him.

The words strangely get stuck in Zoro’s throat, but he gets them out nonetheless. 

“See you soon.”

…

“Right,” Sanji taps a pen on his notepad. “Does anyone else need anything from the market?”

Luffy approaches him, reading the contents of the list over his shoulder. “Nope! I think you got everything.”

If the captain says so, he must be right. But Sanji makes a face, still feeling like he's missing something. He's double checking the cupboards when Nami walks into the kitchen.

“Nami!” Sanji beams. “Do you need me to get you anything from the market?”

“Sanji thinks he's forgetting something.” Luffy explains to her, pointing to the notepad left on the counter.

Leave it to Nami to figure out what's missing at a glance. “Zoro's newspaper.” She says, and the boys nod in realization at the same time.

“Ah, right.” Sanji scribbles The Oceanic Times onto the list.

“I’m actually really impressed by her.” Nami says on her way to crash on the couch. “She writes well.”

“Damn right she does.” Zoro says, entering the room with Usopp right behind him.

“Yeah but man,” Usopp complains, “You need to let us finish reading. You always hog it or give us a time limit on it.”

Zoro merely shrugs, like that isn’t his concern. “Buy one for yourself then.”

Nami smirks. “She must have you really whipped if you’re marketing for her.”

“I don’t think she needs it, actually.” Luffy comments. “The paper is doing really well, isn’t it?”

A small smile forms on Zoro’s lips. “Damn right it is.”

When he gets his hands on The Oceanic Times later that day, Zoro reads every bit of it. He rereads your name over and over again, proud of the ‘Editor in Chief’ title that goes before it. 

Though he reads every single word, he always skips the small gossip corner first, where anonymous people send in messages or thoughts.

Every week, like clockwork, there’s an anonymous reader who submits messages for her distant lover. When he first saw it, he instantly knew it was you.

‘I heard you were injured. I can’t believe you’re making me worry like this.’

Zoro laughs, and everyone in the kitchen freezes.

He slowly, almost cautiously, glances up from the paper. The Straw Hats look at him with a tricky sparkle in their eyes that makes him uncomfortable.

“Don’t even—” Zoro starts, but it’s too late. Usopp is already standing on his chair, acting like a newspaper salesman.

“Step right up! Read all about it! It’s breaking news: The Roronoa Zoro giggled because of his girlfriend—” 

“You have three seconds to run.” Zoro threatens while folding the newspaper carefully. Usopp runs for his life.

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taglist: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @lownna @sweetexistentialism @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee

[liberalk1tsch]

Hi. Do you think until he was hijacked Peeta was able to show the Capitol that he is not simply a mere piece in their Games? How about by the end of the books when he had to overcome what they did to him?

hello anon!

oh peeta absolutely showed the capitol that he was more than just a piece in their games. as a matter of fact, i think that is largely one of the reasons they hijacked him in the first place.

from the start of the first games, he refused to play by their rules. in his interview, by declaring his feelings for katniss, he forces the audience to confront the fact that tributes have feelings at all and they absolutely eat it up. katniss attributes this to him being good with his words, but this is the first time he establishes himself as a player rather than a pawn in snow's game. someone to be reckoned with.

he manipulates the audience to the point that they change the damn rules to a game that — as far as we know — has never had a rule change in the entirety of its history (other than adding rules as the games developed ofc).

right off the bat, he joins the careers — the game favourites — last second, only to betray them and take a near-fatal wound for the girl he loves. he doesn't purposefully kill anyone in that games save for the one girl that cato fails to finish off (and let's be fr, that was more a mercy than anything). he's not playing because he wants himself to survive, but because he wants katniss to survive.

this destroys the traditional view of the games. that the careers, the big and powerful and deadly tributes, are not something to glorify, but rather to abhor. that if kids are going to be executed, they at least deserve the respect and humanity of being put out of their misery as opposed to having a lingering spectacle of a death. that it's more honourable to give up your own life for somebody you care about than to hunt down others for your own survival.

i realise that katniss views peeta's actions as him playing right into the capitol's game, but i personally view it as him doing the precise opposite. indulging his personal feelings humanises them as teenagers who are meant to be distinctly dehumanised.

and that's the whole problem, isn't it? that's why they change the rules. that's why katniss and peeta are able to pull off the berry stunt.

cos peeta forces their hand by making them see them as people.

he only reinforces this in cf by making friends with all the other tributes, dropping the baby bomb, etc. — he continually turns everything back onto the capitol, blaming them and holding them accountable for treating them as less than human.

katniss thinks that she's the rebellious one in the relationship, but honestly? she wouldn't have been able to do the majority of her acts of rebellion without peeta setting the stage for her to do it. he's not the innocent that she narrates him to be; he is just as — if not more — rebellious than she is. to control him via hijacking is to control her. not just emotionally, but also because he also acts as a catalyst for her. if 13 had both of them united, the rebels would've been unstoppable. and i stand by that.

obviously the hijacking is snow's attempt at bending peeta to his will and forcing him to become his pawn, but peeta overcoming the hijacking and growing back together with katniss, recovering the feelings he has for her, only further cements his success at evading being a piece in their games.

i just know snow rolls in his grave when they hit each other with the

So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

this is sort of just the tip of the iceberg, but just some of my thoughts:)

[gatheringbones]

[“The dance itself probably developed under the influence of recurring plague, as a street performance to illustrate sermons on the submission of all alike to Death the Leveler. In murals illustrating the dance at the Church of the Innocents in Paris, fifteen pairs of figures, clerical and lay, from pope and emperor down the scale to monk and peasant, friar and child, make up the procession. “Advance, see yourselves in us,” they say in the accompanying verses, “dead, naked, rotten and stinking. So will you be.… To live without thinking of this risks damnation.… Power, honor, riches are naught; at the hour of death only good works count.… Everyone should think at least once a day of his loathsome end,” to remind him to do good deeds and go to mass if he wishes to be redeemed and escape “the dreadful pain of hell without end which is unspeakable.”

Each figure speaks his piece: the constable knows that Death carries off the bravest, even Charlemagne; the knight, once loved by the ladies, knows that he will make them dance no more; the plump abbot, that “the fattest rots first”; the astrologer, that his knowledge cannot save him; the peasant who has lived all his days in care and toil and often wished for death, now when the hour has come would much rather be digging in the vineyards “even in rain and wind.” The point is made over and over, that here is you and you and you. The cadaverous figure who leads the procession is not Death but the Dead One. “It is yourself,” says the inscription under the murals of the dance at La Chaise-Dieu in Auvergne.

The cult of death was to reach its height in the 15th century, but its source was in the 14th. When death was to be met any day around any corner, it might have been expected to become banal; instead it exerted a ghoulish fascination. Emphasis was on worms and putrefaction and gruesome physical details. Where formerly the dominant idea of death was the spiritual journey of the soul, now the rotting of the body seemed more significant. Effigies of earlier centuries were serene, with hands joined in prayer and eyes open, anticipating eternal life. Now, following Harsigny’s example, great prelates often had themselves shown as cadavers in realistic detail. To accomplish this, death masks and molds of bodily parts were made of wax, incidentally promoting portraiture and a new recognition of individual traits. The message of the effigies was that of the Danse Macabre. Over the scrawny, undraped corpse of Cardinal Jean de La Grange, who was to die in Avignon in 1402, the inscription asks observers, “So, miserable one, what cause for pride?”

The cult of the lugubrious in coming decades made the cemetery of the Innocents at Paris, with the Danse Macabre painted on its walls, the most desirable burial place and popular meeting place in Paris. Charnel houses built into the 48 arches of the cloister were donated by rich bourgeois and nobles—among them Boucicaut and Berry—to hold their remains. Because twenty parishes had the right of burial at the Innocents, the old dead had to be continually disinterred and their tombstones sold to make room for the new. Skulls and bones piled up under the cloister arches were an attraction for the curious, and bleak proof of ultimate leveling. Shops of all kinds found room in and around the cloister; prostitutes solicited there, alchemists found a market place, gallants made it a rendezvous, dogs wandered in and out. Parisians came to tour the charnel houses, watch burials and disinterments, gaze at the murals, and read the verses. They listened to daylong sermons and shuddered as the Dead One blowing his horn entered from the Rue St. Denis leading his procession of awful dancers. Art followed the lugubrious. The crown of thorns, rarely pictured before, became a realistic instrument of pain drawing blood in the paintings of the second half of the century. The Virgin acquired seven sorrows, ranging from the flight into Egypt to the Pietà—the limp dead body of her son lying across her knees. Claus Sluter, sculptor to the Duke of Burgundy, made the first known Pietà in France in 1390 for the convent of Champmol at Dijon.”]

barbara w. tuchman, from a distant mirror: the calamitous 14th century, 1987

[cerastes]

Bro any time I think about Valkyria Chronicles I laugh my nipples off, the game is fundamentally flawed gameplaywise but, simultaneously, it's stupidly fun, which is the recipe for any club banger, it has a story that weaves flawlessly between "that's pretty poignant" and "this is some goofy goober shit", it's got the horrors of war but also this fucking pig piece of shit mascot, Hans,

It's an amalgam of white and black without any gray: It exists on extremes, and it never intersects, it's playing two parallel lines and coming to terms with the fact that you'll never see cohesion but that somehow enhances the end product in ways evidently no one intended. You have narrative comparisons with the persecution of jews and, at the same time, the game ends with the bad guy getting German Suplexed.

But I think the funniest aspect of Valkyria Chronicles The First is that the main character is the farthest thing from a war hero they could possibly muster with the expertise of a stoic Japanese swordsmith from the mountains crafting a god-cleaving blade: Welkin.

This Scout From TF2 Put Through An Anime Filter looking mother fucker was chilling in his hometown talking about how much he wanted to be a teacher and showing people his really good sketches of animals because he's also a gifted artist, when suddenly, the Dudes attack, and his reaction to the Dudes attacking is "hang on, I recall my dad hiding his actual service tank in the shed in the back" so he goes and, yeah, his dad's tank from a previous war is just there, chilling, so he takes it for a joy ride while the town baker, Alicia, armed with a rifle and infinite action economy due to the afore mentioned flawed gameplay, sweeps the entire god damn platoon of heavily armed machine gun troops.

The entire game is Welkin using his love for nature and his baker love interest to inflict insane personnel and materiel damage to an entire empire: Welkin and Alicia will come across a heavily fortified bridge, and the dialogue will go something like

"Welkin! They will pulverize us with the heaviest machine guns known to man if we step one foot in that bridge! They practically developed wooden low-orbit bombardment stations! What's the plan!"

"Well... Look at that duck over there. It's flying from the east to the west, right? Well, YOU SEE, that duck is known as a Balkunese Socioduck, and those, during this season, migrate from west to east, and they only exhibit this irregular flight path if a Matrisgel Weasel family is molting by the juniper berry bushes, their favorite food. Matrisgel Weasels only ever molt if they are put under the exact amount of stress caused to them by the sound of distant tank threads on the road, and they are known to hide in sturdy, stable soil."

"Welkin, SIR, what the fuck does this all mean?"

"If we follow the smoldering shrieking of the molting weasels, we'll find a SECRET PATH that will, as always, let us ambush, flank, and surprise our foes! Alicia, you know what to do."

"Ogggeyyyyy"

and then, invariably, no matter the level, thanks to Welkin's impressive knowledge of fauna and flora, and Alicia's literally infinite action economy in a game that wasn't properly beta tested in-house during development, they combine their powers like a piss poor Captain Planet and kill the absolute shit out of an entire Empire's worth of dudes, and it's legitimately one of the most fun and charming games you'll ever touch if you remember to not take it too seriously. I fucking hate Hans but I love this game.

[ishido-enjoyer]

So I know I haven't been so active in the Napoleonic community in recent months, as I've been pretty absorbed with studying Japanese history and the Japanese language, but the more I've learned about Hideyoshi, the more I found myself comparing him to Napoleon, so here's a post where my two main historical interests get to intersect. :)

Toyotomi Hideyoshi has often been referred to as Japan’s Napoleon Bonaparte. Perhaps a bit Eurocentric given that Hideyoshi was born in 1537, 232 years before Napoleon--if anything it could be said that Napoleon was France’s Hideyoshi, but unfortunately Hideyoshi is not a name most Westerners recognize—otherwise it’s an excellent comparison. I’ve read a great deal about Napoleon over the past several years, and, although my studies on Sengoku Japan are only really in their infancy, I couldn’t help but notice a striking number of parallels and similarities between the lives and military/political careers of Hideyoshi and Napoleon.

Both men came from relatively humble origins and experienced meteoric rises through the ranks via their military service. Napoleon’s family on Corsica were minor nobility—they were not wealthy by any means but at least possessed enough connections to get Napoleon into a military academy; once his training was completed, he was commissioned as an artillery officer. Hideyoshi was born a peasant; his father was an ashigaru (foot soldier) who served a samurai. Hideyoshi followed in his father’s footsteps and became an ashigaru himself, which at the age of 26 brought him into the service of Lord Oda Nobunaga, who was soon the most powerful daimyo in Japan. His talents and intelligence impressed Nobunaga, and Hideyoshi rose to become one of his top generals and retainers by his early thirties. When Nobunaga was betrayed and assassinated in 1582, Hideyoshi, then 35, moved quickly to step into the ensuing power vacuum; within three years he had defeated his main rivals, consolidated his power, and become the most powerful man in Japan himself. Napoleon Bonaparte became a general at age 24 and crowned himself Emperor of the French at age 35. Hideyoshi was never Emperor, nor, being from a peasant background, did he receive the title of shogun, but he was designated kampaku (Imperial Regent) by the Emperor at age 38 and was the real power in the land from this point until his death in 1598.

As a result of their respective meteoric rises and remarkable military successes, both men came to view themselves as destined for greatness. Napoleon frequently spoke of destiny and believed himself guided by it. “Is there a man so blind,” he wrote in December of 1798, “as not to see that destiny itself guides all my operations? Is there anyone so faithless as to doubt that everything in this vast universe is bound to the empire of destiny?” (Broers, Napoleon: Soldier of Fortune, 195) This belief, which pervaded through his life, also made him take great risks, convinced that he was destined to succeed in his endeavors. Hideyoshi came to genuinely believe his own rise was divinely inspired and even developed his own backstory, giving himself celestial origins, and making sure to mention them frequently in his letters to others as a means of convincing them of the rightness of his cause. “At the time my mother conceived me,” he wrote on one occasion, “she had an auspicious dream. That night, a ray of sun filled the room as if it were noontime. All were overcome with astonishment and fright and when the diviners had gathered, they interpreted the event saying: when he reaches the prime of life, his virtue will illuminate the four seas, his authority will emanate to the myriad peoples.” (Berry, Hideyoshi, 9). He even went so far as bringing up his supposedly heavenly origins in a letter to the King of Korea, in hopes of pushing his case to the King to permit his armies safe passage through Korea so he could carry out his planned conquest of Ming China.

Both were regarded as military geniuses by their contemporaries. Napoleon’s quick, dominant successes in Italy, and his crushing victories against Austria, Russia, and Prussia between 1805-1807, solidified his reputation as one of the greatest generals in European history, and arguably the best military commander of his time. Hideyoshi never suffered a defeat in the numerous campaigns he waged over the years to complete the work of unifying Japan that had begun under Nobunaga.

Likewise, both men’s reputations for military genius were severely tarnished by campaigns driven out of an increasingly megalomaniacal drive for conquest abroad. Hideyoshi, his confidence bolstered by his string of military successes, began setting his sights on China, and even hinted in his correspondence that one day, after China had submitted as his vassal, he might even attempt to conquer India. To begin his conquest of China, he first needed to bring his armies through Korea. He attempted to negotiate with the King of Korea to gain safe passage for his armies, but Korea had strong ties to the Ming Dynasty, the negotiations soon broke down, and Hideyoshi sent his armies to invade Korea in 1592. The Japanese initially smashed through the pitiful Korean defenses and made a rapid drive up the peninsula, but with Ming reinforcements soon arriving to turn the tide, and the Japanese navy being repeatedly pummeled by the brilliant Admiral Yi Sun-Sin, the Japanese advance was soon stalled. Eventually the Japanese forces retreated to the southern coastline, where they hunkered down in hastily-built fortifications while peace negotiations dragged out for years between Hideyoshi’s court and the Ming court. When these negotiations also eventually broke down, Hideyoshi launched a second invasion of Korea, less for the sake of conquering China this time than simply for punishing Korea as much as possible for thwarting his initial plans. Hideyoshi himself never actually personally led his armies in Korea—he never went to Korea at all—but relied instead on the reports of his generals and inspectors, whose reports often downplayed or whitewashed the truth of Japanese defeats out of fear. Additionally, some of his primary commanders (like Konishi Yukinaga and Kato Kiyomasa) openly hated each other and their quarrels and personal rivalries occasionally hampered military operations, not unlike the quarrels of Napoleon’s commanders in Russia. The second invasion was turning into a stalemate when Hideyoshi abruptly died in September of 1598 at the age of 61. The remnants of the Japanese army eventually returned to Japan, and a six-year period of nearly relentless horrors and atrocities in Korea had all been for nothing. Napoleon, of course, launched his infamous 1812 invasion of Russia, which, while of much shorter duration than Hideyoshi’s war(s) in Korea, led to a much more thorough destruction of his armies and arguably contributed to his fall from power in 1814. Not that the Korean conflicts left the Toyotomi forces unscathed, and it can also be argued that the extent to which the Western armies had bled themselves out in Korea helped contribute to the victory of Hideoyoshi’s rival, Tokugawa Ieyasu, against his Toyotomi-loyalist enemies at Sekigahara in 1600, as Ieyasu, based in Japan’s eastern Kanto region, had pointedly kept his own forces out of the war.

Both men enacted sweeping reforms in their respective societies which long outlasted either them or the dynasties they both failed to leave behind. Both initiated nationwide cadastral surveys and land registries to make tax collection more accurate and efficient. In 1595, six leading daimyo under Hideyoshi drafted, on his behalf, a code comprised of fourteen brief articles, all of which were centered around keeping the peace, carrying out justice, and governing the behavior of the various social classes in Japan. Napoleon issued his civil code (also not written by himself), now known as the Napoleonic Code, in 1804. While not as brief as the Toyotomi regime’s code, it was written in the vernacular to make it more accessible to the average person.

Both were patrons of the arts; in Hideyoshi’s case, of Noh theater (which he became so passionate about he eventually even performed in plays in front of his subordinates), tea ceremonies, and painting; Napoleon also patronized painters, established art museums and, while not up to becoming a performer in his own right like Hideyoshi, he did attend the opera regularly.  

Both Hideyoshi and Napoleon struggled to produce an heir. Hideyoshi’s only son, Tsurumatsu, died at the age of 2 in 1591. Hideyoshi named his nephew Hidetsugu his heir in the meantime, but hoped to have another son. Neither his wife nor his considerable number of concubines were able to give him a child, leading historians to speculate that Hideyoshi may have been sterile by this point, possible as the result of a sexually transmitted disease. In 1592 his concubine Yodo-dono, also known as Chacha, gave birth to a son, Hideyori, who would become Hideyoshi’s only heir (the unfortunate nephew, Hidetsugu, was soon charged with treason and forced to commit seppuku not long after Hideyori’s birth). Hideyoshi’s inability to create an heir with so many other women led to rumors spreading, even before he died, that Hideyori was not really his child. Napoleon also struggled to produce an heir for years after crowning himself Emperor, but, as he demonstrated no problem creating sons with his mistresses, the problem was attributed to his wife’s infertility. He divorced Josephine, married a much younger princess, and soon enough had an heir of his own.

When Hideyoshi died in 1598, his heir was only five years old; when Napoleon fell from power in 1815, his heir was four years old. Both Hideyoshi’s heir and Napoleon’s heir died at the age of 21.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Got You- Pt 1/3

John Walker x Reader (nicknamed Talon with black canary style powers)

Trying to ignore your feelings for one of your teammates is easier said than done when you’re assigned to play spouses on a mission

Mention of violence? Dirty thoughts?

You were stretched out across one of the mats in the gym, cooling down after a workout. You’d already done your stretches and was considering whether or not Bucky would actually carry you to your room again if he found you asleep here like he did last time when the door opened. You turned your head to the side to see it was in fact not that super soldier walking in but one of the other ones that resided in the watchtower alongside you.

John stopped as soon as he was in the room, a smirk slipping onto his face “Talon, are you awake?” you waved a hand to let him know you were indeed conscious “Just cooling down before I talk myself into going to my room to shower”  “Let me guess, you didn’t bring a second water bottle despite knowing you always drink twice as much as any of us because of your powers” he scolded and you rolled your eyes “You’re not the boss of me Walker”

He shook his head and you watched as his broad frame got closer to you, blocking the overhead light as he leaned down and placed his water bottle next to your head “Cool down. You need it more than I do” it was true his serum did help his body regulate temperature a bit more but he could still dehydrate and you had already drank one water bottle worth. “It’s fine John” you assured him with a smile. He raised an eyebrow “Take a swig or two. At least” 

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, staring up at him. He was a sight indeed. Those damn work out shorts he wore around that he definitely didn’t need to along with that black compression shirt. He’d be stripping the shirt off soon enough and you really needed to be gone before then. That damn serum gave him and Bucky both fairly good hearing. 

“You don’t mind drinking after me?” you teased, reaching for the water. He winked at you “I’m confident you don’t have any spreadable diseases. Hell with the way you and Yelena share food she’d be dead by now” you laughed and took a few long swigs of his water. He nodded approvingly then took the bottle back “Good girl”  you were glad you had already swallowed the water by then or you probably would have spit it out. Damn him. He held his hand out once he was sure you had the water down,  “I’m not carrying you to your room like Bucky but I will offer you a hand up” you slipped your hand into his “I’ll take what I can”

He easily pulled you to your feet, thumb tracing circles onto the back of your hand. You felt your face warm slightly before the moment broke and you both pulled away from each other “I’m gonna go shower” you mumbled and he nodded “I’m gonna work out.”

You headed for the door of the gym, just barely stopping to grab your empty water bottle and towel on the way out of the door. You’d developed a crush of sorts on John. You hadn’t meant to, lord knows you’d fought it. When this rag tag team had first formed everyone had their opinions on each other but then Valentina fucked up by shoving all of you together. 

The whole lot of you slowly learned how your broken pieces fit together. How one of your jagged edges may meet up with the others. Three super soldiers, an enhanced human, a former assassin, Bob who held two extremely strong beings within his form and you, a metahuman who never knew you carried the gene until you were mugged as a teenager and accidentally leveled three city blocks. Shield had a field day with that one.

Over the time all of you had inhabited the same place, worked the same missions and just came to be a unit. John had peeled away that arrogant persona he tried to push forward. He wasn’t really that man. You noticed from day one that man never failed to put everyone in front of him where he was in the line of fire first. He came back for his team, he did things like spot cactus berries while Ava and Yelena were talking and offered to share with all three of you.

He’d done wrong, he’d made mistakes but a lot of his mistakes stemmed from the fact that the government trained him to do a job and when he did that job well they praised him to no end. When he was no longer a useful tool and needed mental help they threw him away. 

He cooked for everyone, even making separate dishes if one person just wasn’t up to actual food but still needed sustenance. The plus side was he was actually a good cook. He made sure he kept up on his child support to Olivia, even if she still wasn’t confident in his mental state enough for him to see JL. He called Lemar’s mother every sunday if he wasn’t on a mission and if he was he called her as soon as he could once the mission was wrapped.

You hadn’t ever downright hated John like a lot of people had simply because of the amount of people that had judged you for something that happened when you were a teenager. You had so much blood on your hands before you could ever legally vote. All any of you could do now was try to move forward.

When it came to you, John was sweet? Nearly soft but not enough to make you feel like he was handling you with gloves like so many people had. Your friendship had blossomed over nights where neither of you could sleep, snatching phones out of each other’s hands when bad articles came out so neither of you could drown in it, unconsciously defending each other. 

When you made it back to your room you shoved the door open and slipped in before letting it slide closed with a hiss. Yeah you just needed a shower and to get your mind off the resident blonde haired super soldier.  

John knew he was beginning to feel more than friendship for you and he didn’t know how to feel about that. He accepted that his divorce had long since been finalized, that his marriage was over but it felt… almost like cheating. Not to mention, you were gorgeous and sweet. You truly cared about people no matter what you’d gone through at Shield’s hand. You had no issue jumping in front of your team to protect them. Your sonic scream was nothing short of amazing to witness at times. It stunned multiple enemies at once, incapacitating them. He’d even seen you use it to shatter objects like weapons being wielded, damage buildings and once use it as a sonic barrier.

The only downside to it was your team had to make sure you had a partner because you would push yourself to the point of exhaustion in every single fight if need be to give them the advantage, no matter the cost to your own body. He’d had to carry you back to the jet more than once.

Why would he tangle you up in the train wreck that was him? No, he’d never do that to you. He cared about you far too much. 

“Bucky, what the actual fuck?” you sat across the table staring down the metal armed super soldier who was one of your closest friends on this earth. “It’s him or Alexei darlin” he offered with a shrug and you groaned, running your hands down your face. “So, it’s an undercover. We’ll be going in as buyers for some missiles” he nodded “Buyer is a sucker for the good old fashioned American couple” you rolled your eyes “Has John been debriefed on this?” “Debriefed on what?” came from the semi open door behind you and you damn near jumped across the table, a hand covering your mouth on instinct as a reaction to getting spooked.

You wordlessly held out the folder in your hand. John took it with a raised eyebrow, you could see his eyes moving as he skimmed over the page. “Doesn’t seem like it should be too big of an issue Talon. I mean is it really that hard to act like you like me for a couple days?” you cut your eyes at Bucky who smirked “Yeah Talon, is it?”

You rolled your eyes “I’ve had enough training to pull off damn near any act” you didn’t miss the slight fall of John’s shoulders but he kept the playful grin on his face “Good, honey. Then I guess we need to hit the jewelry side of the armory to pick our wedding bands” you groaned inwardly at the idea. Valentina kept a small vault within the armory that consisted of enough jewelry to stock a small store. It was for galas, undercovers and any situations she didn’t want all of you “looking like you’re avengers yet too poor to have proper accessories”

“I like silver” you offered with a shrug as you stood, taking the folder out of his hand and brushing past him to leave the office. You heard him chuckle low and heard Bucky say “Good luck. We’ll give you two the first day to settle and make initial contact then we’ll set up our surveillance nearby to move in once he trusts you enough.” “Copy that” you hollered over your shoulder considering you were damn near to the elevator. John shook his head and barely had to jog to catch the door with one hand before it closed.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to tuck yourself into the far corner. He stood about half a foot away from you and was quiet for a moment before reaching over to hit the emergency stop. “John, what the hell?” you pushed yourself off the wall, going for the emergency stop but he moved in front of you, blocking your path. “Why are you so mad you have to pretend to be my wife for a week tops?”

“Because I hate these kind of ops” you muttered, eyes dropping to not fall into those damn blue eyes of his that seemed to reflect even the least amount of light. He scoffed lightly “You didn’t mind when you were Ava’s girlfriend or Bucky’s mistress. Why the sudden attitude at being my wife?”

You lifted your eyes to his, a shiver running through you when you realized just how close your bodies were “I don’t want to trudge up any bad memories for you John” you admitted finally and his face softened “Oh” “Yeah, oh” you whispered, sliding around him to hit the emergency stop so the elevator would lurch back to moving.

He remained silent when the elevator stopped on the armory floor. You stepped out and he followed you to the vault, waiting while you typed in your code and let it run your prints. Once it clicked open you waved a hand “After you husband dear” he grinned slightly “Yes ma’am”

He walked in so you followed him. The wedding bands were on a top shelf so he had to pull them down. He sat them down on the counter and opened them “Your pick honey” you shook your head and looked into the small chest. You ran your fingers over them until you found an elegant looking silver band in your size. “This will work. What size is your ring finger?” he told you so you looked through the men’s until you found one that matched yours. You closed the chest back but then he was pulling another one down. You knew your confusion was plainly written across your face so he tapped your finger “You need a diamond too. I’m not exactly gonna give you just a band. I didn’t even do that when I was in my early twenties” 

You shook your head “Fine, go ahead” he nodded “What size?” you told him so he shifted where you couldn’t see what ring he was picking. He closed the chest and put both back up on the shelf. He reached for your band and you rolled your eyes again “John! I can put my own rings on” 

“I know” he teased, holding your left hand a little too gently as he slipped the band on first, followed by a gorgeous diamond. Your eyes widened “That thing is beautiful” he seemed proud of himself at your words “Nice to know I can still pick a ring” 

You laughed and reached for his hand “Well I might as well do this” when your hand brushed against his larger one you felt him shiver slightly. “You ok?” you asked and he smiled “Yeah” you sighed and opened his hand, laying the ring in the palm of it “Why don’t you just wait and put this on at the last moment? I’m used to wearing a lot of rings so a couple more isn’t gonna bother me too much”

He smiled softly “It’s nothing to do with you sweetheart” you nodded “I know” but still reached down to shift your rings from your left hand to your right. When he noticed you shrugged “Just until we get everything together”  “Let’s get on that. Our reservation to check in for the suite is a nine” “And in Paris?” you asked and he nodded “Yelena is gonna drop us. We’ll take a car in” 

You trudged into the suite after John, grateful he’d grabbed all of the bags. You hated these style of heels, this style of dress was annoying you and you just wanted a hot shower and some sleep. “Mr & Mrs Lewis” you wanted to drown yourself in the damned shower and the op was just starting.

“You good?” John asked, eyeing you after he sat down the luggage. You nodded, toeing the heels off, a little moan of contentment leaving you when your bare feet sunk into the soft rug that took up a good amount of the floor. A light blush graced his cheeks and it was only then you realized what you’d done. “I’m um, I’m gonna go shower” “I’ll be out here” he waved around the room so you went to walk past him and he went to move to the other side of the room and that kind of resulted in both of you crashing into each other.

His hands came out to steady your waist, your hands going to his chest and christ why were his eyes that freaking blue? “Thanks” you whispered and he nodded “Yeah” you untangled yourself from him and grabbed your smaller bag before heading into the bathroom.

John watched you go, until the door closed behind you and was already mentally kicking himself. Why had that little moan affected him the way it had? Because it was you. Because he was watching your hair fall down, the little wiggle you gave once your feet was free of those heels. The way you’d had to walk with your hand in his through the lobby. How you’d been calling him baby and he wanted that to be true.

He couldn’t. Fuck he couldn’t. He sank down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands until the sound of the bathroom door cracking open made his head fly up. It was open only enough you could pop your head out and you looked downright embarrassed. “What’s wrong?” he was trying to think of what could have that look on your face. Had that time of the month popped up unexpectedly and you assumed he’d be an ass? Hell he’d do a store run if you needed him to. 

“I forgot to pack anything to sleep in. I have the undercover wear. I have my suit. I don’t have anything else and I really don’t think either of us want me sleeping in just my bra and panties” his mouth went dry because now he was getting the mental image of the two of you having to share the king size bed he was currently sitting on with you… nope not going there. “Want one of my shirts? I packed a couple extras” he offered and you smiled hesitantly “Are you sure?”

He grinned “I’m sure” he stood up and walked over to his bag, digging around until he found a couple of his shirts “Want a button down or a tee?” you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth and pointed to the blue button down in his hand “That one” he laughed and tossed it to you “How did I not know? You’re always accidentally forgetting a jacket whenever I wear that one” you shrugged “It’s soft and always smells good” you disappeared back into the bathroom before he could overthink the fact that you just told him that one of his favorite shirts always smelled good. 

A few moments later the door opened and he had to think about damn near anything to not get hard. Fuck he hadn’t thought this through either, had he? You walked out the bathroom like it was no big deal, like your hair wasn’t falling around your shoulders like a damned halo, like your legs weren’t bared showing that birthmark on your thigh, like seeing you wearing his shirt wasn’t hitting some sort of deeply possessive streak he had no right to feel towards you.

You finally looked up after a moment and smiled “The shower’s empty. Good water pressure too” he nodded dumbly “Good to know” and grabbed some clothes before heading into the bathroom.

You watched John retreat to the bathroom and was wondering if you’d done something to upset him. He was acting a little weird. Maybe it was jet lag? You were damn sure beat. You crawled onto the bed, sliding under the covers and hoping you and John slept on different sides so an argument over that wouldn’t ensue.

You were almost asleep when the bathroom door opened and when you leaned up your thighs clenched together. Fuck. He was wearing a pair of black joggers, riding low on his hips. No shirt, blonde hair darker from the water and a few droplets finding their way down his chest as he towel dried his hair. 

You had to swallow twice before you managed to get out “Um is this side of the bed ok?” he looked up and smiled “Of course. Honey, I can sleep anywhere” you nodded and laid back down, trying to ignore the super soldier in the room with you that looked like he walked straight out of every wet dream you’d ever had.

You felt the bed dip under his weight after a moment and when he slipped under the blanket you sighed contently which caused a low grumble of laughter out of him “What was that? Sounds like I got a goddamn cat in the bed”  you felt your face warm “I was a little cold. You got under the blanket and it was like a rush of heat”

“So, you’re calling me hot then?” he teased and you shook your head “Fuck off” “That’s no way to talk to your husband” he spoke close to your ear and you titled your head to realize the two of you were close enough one good breath would put your lips touching “Considering none of my relationships have ever lasted. It’s apparent I don’t care about that” he laughed and pressed a kiss right below your ear “Night Talon”

He rolled over so his back was pressed against yours. You wiggled just slightly closer to him, despite yourself “Night John”

You and John had to meet your seller Pierre Jonan around noon at a cafe. He wanted a “casual” meeting to get a feeling of the two of you. You knew what that meant. He wanted civilians around so if you weren’t who you said you were it would be harder to take him. You weren’t interested in just him however. You needed those damned missiles.

At least you had boots on today. The dress and boots were Yelena and Ava approved. Fucking versace, thank you Valentina. You walked along the sidewalk, John slipping his arm around you to shift you around so you were next to the buildings and he was between you and any traffic before he tucked you into his shoulder, fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder like he’d been doing it for years. You knew he could feel your eyes on him but he gave nothing away except for that damn smile. 

The fact that when you woke up he’d had one arm tucked around your waist and your legs were tangled together under the blanket definitely wasn’t helping your already muddled brain where he was concerned.

You slipped your arm around his waist, laying your head over on his shoulder as you walked. You had to look the part of marital bliss. Even if part of this particular marital bliss was making your fortune off selling weapons of mass destruction. “Easy there sweetheart, might look like you like me” he whispered, featherlight.

You shrugged “I’m a good actor” his laughter rumbled against you.

When the two of you got to the cafe, John held one large hand at your lower back. To any passerbys it would simply look like he was leading you through the crowd, ensuring you don’t get separated but no, it was because you had a gun at your lower back. All he had to do was slip his hand into the small separation between the top and lower part of your dress and he was armed. Same reason your hand hovered towards his side, he had a gun and a couple of your knives on his body.

He spotted Pierre first and tugged you into his side “Barnes mention he’s famous for flirting with the wives?” you glared at him and he grinned “I’ve got you” 

The two of you walked over and Pierre stood along with his two bodyguards “Mr Lewis, it is a pleasure and this divine creature must be your wife” he reached for your hand and when he bought it to his lips to press a kiss on your knuckles it took every last thing inside of you to suppress a full body shiver. 

You tried to gingerly pull your hand away and he held on. Before you had to say anything John’s large hand was covering yours, calloused fingers wrapping protectively around yours. “Yes, she is my wife” he pulled your hand free and Pierre chuckled low “No disrespect of course Mr Lewis” John nodded “Of course. Let’s get down to meeting each other properly”

John kept his arm around your shoulders the rest of the meeting and you tucked yourself fully into his side. Here? You would have no choice but weaponry or hand to hand. Too many people in the cross hairs, too much collateral damage.

The two of you played the part perfectly. The meeting went over well. He invited the two of you to his estate. He was having a “get together” you knew that meant a bunch of rich assholes that did a bunch of illegal shit that their money always got them out of. “It would be our pleasure” John told him with a smile as all of you stood. John and him shook hands and he simply winked at you “I see your husband is quite territorial Mrs Lewis, so I will simply bid you adieu” 

“Was a pleasure” you assured him with a sweet smile. John pulled you into his chest as the two of you walked out of the cafe. You needed to get back to the hotel and update the team. You moved next to the buildings so he wouldn’t have to move you and felt his hand slip down to lace his fingers with yours. You looked down at your interlocked hands then back up at him “Gotta play it in public” he offered with a shrug. You didn’t exactly mind but your heart was in for a beating.

John knew he was playing a dangerous game and that game damn sure wasn’t this op. He got pissed when Pierre didn’t let go of you. He wanted to break the bodyguard's face when he saw his eyes linger on your cleavage. When he woke up before you and realized you’d fallen asleep in the damn rings? That had done things to him that it shouldn’t have.

Now? Walking down the street with your hand in his as you pointed out different landmarks and leaned in to tease which ones would be easiest to knock down with a scream he knew the game was getting more and more dangerous because it was getting more real with each moment that passed.

“Sweetheart! Are you listening?” you laughed and he blinked, a grin slipping onto his face “Yeah honey. I’m listening”

The plan was that you and John would go to the “get together”, confirm the missiles then the team would move in to back all of you in taking Pierre down. That also meant that you and John had to be packed so Ava could phase in for your bags and you had to get her to hide your suits somewhere on Pierre’s estate because your evening wear didn’t exactly have the benefit of being slice proof and harder to hit.

You were getting ready in the bathroom while John got ready in the bedroom. You knocked on the door and he whistled to let you know he was decent. You stepped out, holding your shoes in your hand and froze. Damn, why did he have to go with that suit? Navy blue, tailored and good lord he looked amazing. “You look good” you breathed and he grinned “You too honey” then tilted his head “Must say though, I think your zipper being down is a distraction”

You rolled your eyes “I need help with it” “I got you” he assured you, walking over and motioning with his fingers for you to turn around. You did so and felt his fingers brush your skin before he tugged the zipper up into place. He patted your hip gently “All good”

You turned to face him, bracing one hand on his shoulder to slip your shoes on. He shook his head with a laugh “Now I feel like your husband” you winked at him “Naw, I would kiss you for your effort at least” 

John wasn’t sure where the filter between his brain and mouth went but he managed to stick his foot squarely in his mouth by saying “I’m not turning down a kiss for my efforts” he half expected you to slap him but no, you got your other shoe on, straightened your dress then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek “There ya go”

He grinned “Good enough. Let’s go Mrs Lewis” you slipped your arm into his “After tonight I’ll no longer be” he laughed “Add another divorce to my pile” you swatted his chest playfully “Oh hush”

You didn’t have time to get to your suit, your weapons so plan B. You hit the com in your ear and spoke over it “Cover your ears boys and girls” you waited until you heard everyone’s response then ran to the highest point of the hill and took a deep breath. The waves going off of your scream made every guard on the premises drop to their knees, windows shattered and a few people just keeled over. 

You could only keep it up for so much longer and Yelena had to land the jet. You spotted the black shadow over head and heard Bucky calling for an evac. You could feel yourself starting to drift but right before you fainted a set of strong arms grabbed you and you were against a firm chest.

John wasted no time moving towards the jet. Ava had grabbed your suit, the missiles were secure. This place would be up in smoke in five minutes time. “John?” you spoke his name softly and he whispered “I got you” you smiled and curled into him. When he got onto the jet he sat down with you in his arms. No one said anything besides Ava asking “Is she ok?”

He nodded “Just wore out from using her scream that long” “She just needs rest and food. She’ll be ok” Yelena assured them and he nodded “I know”  he adjusted himself in the seat and you adjusted with him. “So is this a thing now?” Bucky asked and when John glared at him he held up his hands “Just asking man” and walked to the front of the jet.

“I can move” you offered in a small voice and he shook his head “Only if you want” “I don’t” you admitted, eyes dropped like you ashamed of wanting to be in his arms and he understood that. “Hey, it’s ok. I’ve got you” he assured you yet again. You smiled “Thank you” and curled up to his chest. You ended up sleeping most of the way back to New York in that position.

Part 2

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Any older Kurt? Like could you give me a list?

Love you

Thank you

I assume you mean, there's an age gap between them? Rather than Kurt being an old man! Here's a list, that hopefully will keep you busy reading! ~Jen

I won’t let you down by MrsCriss2012

AU. 16 year old Blaine moves to Lima with his mom and new step family. Desperately unhappy and alone, he is befriended by one Burt Hummel who lives across the road. The pair start to restore a classic car together, but what will Blaine make of Burt’s surly 27 year old son?

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It's Not Babysitting by @anxiousssquirrel

AU, present time. Kurt Hummel is 28 and has been living in New York for ten years now. He has a good job, nice apartment and two best friends anyone could wish for: Sebastian, a snarky lawyer, and Cooper, a workaholic investment specialist. What he doesn't have is luck in relationships. But then Blaine, Cooper's 17-year-old brother comes to NY to spend the summer. He turns out to be gorgeous and quickly develops a huge crush on Kurt...

~~~~~

Crush into me by @gleekto

Third year NYADA student, Kurt, returns to Lima for an internship coaching the Glee club. The leather jacket and eyebrow ring-clad senior, Blaine, thinks he’s cute.

slightly older teacher-ish!Kurt/ badboy!Blaine

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Through Different Eyes Verse by GLEEanna

Blaine Anderson-Berry is in love with his big sister's best friend Kurt Hummel. Will Kurt ever see him as more than a little kid?

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Distraction by @kurtsascot

Blaine Anderson is doubling as Saturday Night Live’s host and musical guest to promote his first album in 10 years.

He’s also secretly fucking his manager.

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Stay by @bowtiesandboatshoes

Written for the prompt: Kurt and Blaine’s parents are close friends, so they sort of grew up together even though Kurt is 5-10 years older than Blaine. Blaine has just graduated university and Kurt offers to let him move into his apartment until he can find something better.

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Lights Flash and We Run by kurtpuppet

Blaine Anderson found himself secretely dating Vogue's creative director, the powerful, attractive and older Kurt Hummel. It's as if all his dreams came true, except everyone had something to say about it once they're found out.

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Undiscovered by @heartsmadeofbooks

All Blaine Anderson needs is a little help to put himself through school. That’s all. But he’s going to get so much more than he hoped for when he meets Kurt Hummel, the successful, sexy workaholic who in turn needs someone to make the loneliness disappear.

~~~~~

Push verse by orphan_account

Despite a 12 year age difference, neither Kurt nor Blaine can deny just how much they want each other. Blaine might only be 16, but he knows what he wants -- and what he wants is for Kurt to push him just a little.

~~~~~ Story of my life by klaineanummel

Kurt reflects on the past twelve years of his life, coming to realize that one man in particular has affected him far more than he ever thought he would

~~~~~

Washington is burning By @quizasvivamos

Widowed at a young age, Kurt was left to raise his only daughter on his own. Knowing that she must marry into a wealthy family to ensure the retention of their family fortune, as her seventeenth birthday is approaching in October of 1812, Kurt makes arrangements with the Andersons. However, complications arise with the marriage arrangement when the eldest son, Blaine Anderson, and Brittany’s husband-to-be, becomes an unbearable distraction for Kurt.

~~~~~

All of me by CoffeeCat72

As a young and successful fashion designer living in NYC he shouldn't have a problem finding a sub. Yet, he has been alone since a college relationship gone wrong. When the Department of D/s affairs proposes that he be a mentor for a college bound troubled sub from Dalton he accepts knowing it will be the right thing to do. What he doesn't expect is the perfectly submissive Blaine Anderson. Title based off the John Legend song.

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The Dumbing Down Of Love by JustGidget

“The butterflies in his stomach had been lying to him and it was only in that instant that he realized it. He wondered just how long his traitor brain had been duping him. All he was sure of was that what he was beginning to feel for Blaine was very, very dangerous.” AU. Klaine. age difference. older!Kurt.

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Oh, For Fuck's Sake by @teddyshoney

When Finn calls on his brother for last-minute help with McKinley's musical, Kurt agrees to come back and lend a hand. There, he meets school badboy!Blaine Anderson who flirts with him until he finally gives in to his very sexy advances.

Rated M for language and Blaine Anderson being a little to sexy on school property

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If I Lose Myself by @fablewriter

Anonymous asked: Can I prompt you ; billionaire older Kurt and pretty young thing Blaine in a relationship and just Kurt spoiling him and just fluff and smut or whatever, take creative freedom as you wish(: 

Read at:  [PDF]