#essentially what it's like to have any given conversation with me

[docholligay]

When you hear an accent/dialect/we're not going to get into that debate here that sounds 'odd' to your ear, think about that! Not even in a "Wow, I hate that" way, or a "I need to examine my classism/racism/etc way I am a bad person way, but in a secret third way called, "curiosity and openness to experience"

I was EXTREMELY EXTREMELY FORTUNATE to have a required class in college called "History of the English Language" which was one of the 'weeder classes' for the English majors at my school. It was very very difficult, but the man who taught it had an INSANE passion for English. He LOVED IT, he would talk about it all goddamn day, and it taught me so much about how and why things get changed and said the way they do, and it made me so CURIOUS about why something is unusual or fun for my brain to listen to.

So now, anytime I hear someone pronounce something or verbalize something in a way I think of as "odd" I get so excited and curious*. What is it I haven't heard before? Sometimes my tongue will move around my mouth trying to figure out how they make that sound (I am REAL bad at this. Accents are in no no no way my forte, which is annoying because I'm very good at HEARING them and hearing the differences between them, I just can't DO it) because it is so interesting and cool all the different ways one fucking language has been DONE over so many years.

Anyway I so far off track I am no longer a train, but looking at dialects as you might look at an interesting bug instead of like a pop song on the radio or a sign font is a really good way to start opening your mind to language as something other than a value marker. And that doesn't HAVE to be another way of whipping yourself for being a piece of shit--I assume you have plenty of reasons--but a way of going, "Oh, something unexpected!"

*Also not to attempt to introduce nuance on the 'no nuance we die like men' website, but I think there is a big difference between loving teasing and mockery/cruelty. I don't actually mind if friends, especially ones with VASTLY different ways of speaking, imitate my accent I think it's fuckin funny as hell! Jetty has the WORST rural western accent on the planet, and I love to make fun of whatever the fuck she's got going on there, but it is FUN and there is a sense of LOVE that comes with it. And it's not even a "well yeah, Holligay, when you've known someone for a long time" No no, I once sat in a shitty pub on the east end, now closed (rip) and me and my mom ending up striking up a conversation with two old-school cockney guys, and as soon as he tried to say "Montana" the way I did, the race was ON, and it was FUNNY, and we all laughed and had a good time, it is about attitude.

And I know I'm gonna get something about "well how do you KNOW and that is why i turned off reblogs but come on y'all, 9 times out of 10 you can tell when something is done with deep affection or camaraderie or because even just something feels cool in your mouth it's fun to try. I can't do 87% of the linguistic features I think FUCK SEVERELY (intrusive R, the way a word that genuinely does not start with the letter h has a different sound than a word when the h is uptaken (this has a fucking word and I cannot find it it's making me nuts)) but I LOVE them.

Quick quiz to help though: Are you affecting this accent to in some way sound stupid/ridiculous? We can go back and forth about that a little: one of my buddies says "well shiiiiit" exactly the way I do, for funsies, but it just...feels neat. What I'm saying is you have to use some discernment here and I know we are all allergic to that but give it a shot/go/whatever the hell Australians say for this.

Post script: All of this reminds me also about how I studied the phonemes and linguistics of English with intense fervor in college, and got REAL COCKY, and then in the Orkneys had my very first ever, in life, "We are both speaking English but damn" moment. Normally I am The One for this. I am unruffled. My wife gets confused by the word takeaway (she is smart I swear) but I'm rock-solid. Until. Hubris.

This guy is rollin on up in his van, which is the 'bus system' on Rapness, and it's cute as hell as a system, but I ask him something stupid about the timetable, and he answers me in what I can only describe as a Nordic-flavored Scottish accent. It is actually really remarkable and I went on a weird deep dive of the Orkneys afterward because I had never heard anything like it but I digress. I DID NOT GET A FUCKING WORD. And so, because I panic, I do what I always do when I feel flustered or emotional or angry: I sound like Yosemite fucking Sam. So now he can't understand what I am asking him!

Good news is, we both give a little bit of a laugh, I go, 'Let's try that again" and I do manage to exchange that this van picks up outside of the Pierowall hotel in time for the ferry.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[reidmotif]

I’ve Got My Eye On You

Summary: Reader is a Special Surveillance agent assigned to spy on Spencer. He manages to see through her cover, and thoroughly enjoys the confrontation that follows.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, f!masturbation, slight dubcon regarding recorded sex, heavily based on that one scene in scandal, iykyk.

Word Count: 3.5k

Masterlist

I’d always been good at watching people. 

My life had been spent mostly to myself, divulging the information people offered without even realizing. When you talk less, you learn that body language, passing remarks, or even the quirk of an eyebrow gives away more than anyone ever realized– maybe more than an actual conversation at times. 

And I took it all in stride, not a single detail left unanalyzed. People were always surprised when I’d mention my observations, finding a way to explain a seemingly unexplainable situation, those around me wondering how on Earth I could’ve been privy to that. I’d always shrug at their queries. 

Pay more attention, I guess. 

It wasn’t a surprise that I’d ended up here, I suppose, in the end, as an Investigative Specialist for the FBI. I doubt that my listening skills were exactly what landed me the job, but I’d like to believe they contributed more than they actually did. Regardless, I’d never expected the result of the decisions I’d made over the years to lead to this– involved in spying on an agent of our own. 

The infamous "Dr Reid".

His specific circumstances had been shrouded in secrecy and mystery, apparently having just been let out of prison. (Prison? How’s he an agent then? Anyway, not my problem).

 The Bureau had been curious about erratic behavior on his part, and the string of discrepancies involving the unit he was involved in. Apparently, there had been multiple unforeseen and unprecedented events all occurring under the same team in a relatively small time-frame, and despite smaller investigations, nothing came out of them to warrant any real disciplinary action.  Probably why they brought me in, in the hopes of changing that. 

I’d been assigned to put up small, virtually undetectable cameras and listening devices within his apartment. 24/7 home surveillance, no exceptions. I couldn’t help but think that the guy really should invest in better apartment security, despite how easy his naivete made my job. His lack of caution surprised me, given the details I’d been given. For a guy who had a penchant for being framed by the ghosts of his past, he sure didn’t live like it.  Even as an FBI agent, he essentially had no technology to counter my own, and the height of his protection was a standard deadbolt. Was he insane? Unaware, somehow? Only time would tell, I suppose. And I had plenty of that, to watch and deduce the nature of his mind on my own terms. 

My time spent with Spencer resulted in one, overwhelming conclusion. Spencer Reid lived a relatively quiet life. His apartment was barely used, honestly, given the sporadic nature of his job. (Which was a shame, in my opinion, because it’s a nice apartment).  When he was at home, he seemed to remain quite unassuming. The positions I’d see him assume often were that of being hunched over on an aging leather sofa, pouring himself into grading papers, or creating lesson plans for his students. Oh, right. Did I mention he was also a professor? He is. I’d assume he likes the job, given how much of himself he gives into it, or maybe that was just who he was as a person. I wasn’t sure yet. 

I monitored his life outside of the apartment occasionally as well, just to see what intel I could gather with further investigation. There wasn’t much. Coffee shops. Book shops. Coffee. Books. Coffee- God, does the guy do anything else with his life? 

Most days, though, I’d liken him to butter spread too thinly over toast. Sleepless from nightmares that would have him walking around his apartment until daylight broke through the window panes. I felt exhausted just watching the guy, and it seemed insane that he could continue to live on when he left that apartment at the break of dawn. It didn’t seem like he had anyone to talk to, honestly. From what I was seeing, he wasn’t a threat to the Bureau, just a sad, middle-aged man who’d been dealt the most unfair of hands in life. 

I’m sure there’s a moral somewhere in all that. To waste your potential on something that gives so little back. Oh, well. My report was nearly finished at this point, and the most I could recommend the higher-ups was to get Spencer a better therapist, maybe. This one wasn’t really helping, it seemed. Besides that, his personal behavior wasn’t indicative of anything worrying to the interests of those managing him. 

At long last, it was my final night of watching him. Coincidentally, the date lined up with Halloween, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to finally be free of this specific survey job. Don’t get me wrong, Spencer seemed nice- but God, his life was boring. I don’t want to say it was like watching paint dry,  out of respect, but previous targets had offered at least some part of their life to be interested within. Spencer had nothing. No friends over, no gossip-like phone conversations, no drunk wanderings home. Nothing! I know he didn’t sign up to be watched, but God. 

Like, come on. Give me anything here. 

Needless to say, I’d become accustomed to the quiet, and this night was no different. If he was following schedule, he should be home right about … now. 

Now? 

Now… 

Silence. 

Spencer was definitely a creature of habit, so to not see him adhere to the routine he’d so meticulously stuck to in the past was a bit jarring, but I assumed he was just running late. 

A few hours later, I reasoned he must be running really really late. It was bordering on midnight, and he still wasn’t home. I checked train schedules, possible reports of a car crash, just about anything that could keep him from his scheduled appearance at home. 

I was just about to call my supervisor to look into whether or not he’d been called out on a surprise case, but that’s when the door of his apartment creaked open, and I felt my shoulders deflate in relief. Okay, he was home. He was going to go to bed and- 

He wasn’t alone. 

Spencer was dressed in all black, a leather belt adorned with a gold belt buckle being the only color his outfit brought. He wore tiny devil’s ears upon his head, the headband pushing down on the mop of curls that sat atop his head. He looked absolutely delicious, if I must say myself, and it seemed the woman in his arms would agree with me. 

He practically pulled her into his apartment, kicking his door in with his leg before slightly fumbling with the lock. As soon as the mechanism slipped into place, his hands were all over her, pressing her flush against his body, as if he couldn’t bear to have any space between them. 

For all the time I’d been watching him, none of his behavior indicated the presence of any kind of significant other, so this girl must be a stranger. If this is how Spencer treated strangers though, I was surprised he didn’t have a barrage of women lining up at his door every night. 

His lips absolutely devoured the girl, his hand cradling the side of her face, before his thigh slipped in between her legs, possibly to soothe a building ache that had built up there in the time they’d spent together, which I found entirely possible, considering I, personally, was heated from simply watching. 

I watched the pixels on the screen with such precision, innocuous shades of red, green and blue painting the most sinful of images. I found myself noting the way his hand snuck up the girls’ dress, the way her breathing hitched as she pulled back, watching as Spencer presumably played with her clit. I could feel myself squeezing my thighs together, recognizing just how wrong it was to be turned on by the scene in front of me, but I couldn’t stop myself. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a target had behaved sexually in front of me. (Or in front of the camera, I suppose.) I’d seen and heard just about anything you could think of, but this was different- in a way. To see Spencer so filthy, so confident, so- interesting. It lit a fire in me that burned with every passing moment he touched this girl. 

I’m able to watch him circle over her panties in a way that has her groaning directly into his ear, a smug grin plastering his face as he watches her every reaction. 

“Like that?” He murmurs, and I’ve never heard his voice so fucking deep.

She nods frantically, and it only serves to widen his grin. I can feel myself rocking slightly in my own chair, doing anything to try and soothe the fast growing arousal within me, unable to stop from imagining myself in her place. His hands, the feel of hot breath down my neck- 

I’m stopped dead in my tracks, however, when his eyes suddenly shift to the camera closest to him, his eyebrow raising, as if in challenge. He continues to whisper in the girl’s ear, and has the galls to wink. I’m horrified, a very sudden and intense heat rising to my cheeks. I can only watch for a second more, before he’s suddenly pulling her away, and I realize he’s taken her  within one of the only blind spots within the apartment. 

I’m scrambling to turn off the feed, stunned into silence whilst, my heart beating uncontrollably and eccentrically. Oh god. He knew. He knew and he did that?! 

I stare into the empty space, a multitude of thoughts inhabiting my brainscape. On one hand, the aplomb shown in that situation was commendable, since most people would react to the knowledge that they’d been secretly watched in their own home for the past few months in a much more hostile way. On the other hand, how did he even acquire that knowledge? The cameras were virtually undetectable, and he’d never let on that he was aware of their presence, and I’d know, considering how closely I’d watched him. 

I shake off the thoughts, focusing on something other than the overwhelming mortification coursing through me now.  

Alright, tomorrow, get into his apartment, remove the cameras, and hopefully never have to look at the man again. In any capacity, honestly. 

When daylight broke, I turned on the cameras for the final time, a bit more sheepish, knowing he was aware of the devices plaguing his home. However, it seemed like he was once again pretending like he wasn’t aware of the looming existence of them, sending his female companion off her merry way once they woke up, before going about his normal routine, heading out of the apartment for what was most likely his morning coffee and then afternoon lecture at the university. 

That was my cue. I turned off the cameras,  quickly making my way out to sneak into his residence, the heavy door offering little resistance to my advances, my movements quiet and undetectable. 

I’m  in the process of removing the final camera I had placed in his bedroom, hidden behind a copy of  The Sign of Four. Doyle. He had good taste, I could give him that. 

I’m just about to turn around and get the hell out of there, when I hear a voice behind me. 

“I noticed that one first, you know.”

I turn around slowly, embarrassed and slightly fearful to find Spencer’s eyes meeting mine. I’d watched him for so long, but seeing him now– his eyes were so beautiful. The camera didn’t do him justice.

He continues, despite the silence. “The other ones were harder to spot, I’ll give you that, but once I knew where they were, it was a bit obvious, don’t you think?” 

I’m speechless. My mouth is agape, and all he seems to do is smile at my lack of prose. 

“Don’t look so surprised. I know this apartment. I’m not here a lot, but I spend enough time to know when things have been shifted around.” His tone is cheeky, and he pauses, almost theatrically to add on:

“I’m sure you knew that though.”  His smile turns into more of a smirk. 

God, did he have to be so hot?

“Are you going to complain to the Bureau?” I manage out, keeping my eyes steady on him. 

“Did you find anything of note to tell them?” He responds, tilting his head with curiosity. 

I shake my head vehemently. “No, um. Nothing pertinent to say.” I get my words out in a hurry, my gaze continually trained on him. 

He meets my eyes with the same stare. “Then I don’t have much of a reason to complain.” 

I nod solemnly. I’m wondering where this situation will lead- what either of our next moves are. Before I can ponder long though, he surprises me and takes a step closer.

“I saw you, you know.” He says. “Thought I was going insane when the same pretty girl kept showing up at the bookstore and coffee shop out of the blue, but I’ve never been one to believe in coincidences.” 

“Oh.” I whisper. I really wasn’t as good as I thought I was. 

“You really shouldn’t beat yourself up.” He says, chuckling with some mirth. “Again, I’m observant. I notice these things. That, and you’re pretty.” He says, forward. “So, more of a reason to notice.” 

“Oh.” I reply, yet again, dumbfounded by the events currently transpiring. 

“Yes, oh.” He chuckles, before he starts to move closer yet again. “Tell me. Were you watching last night?” He murmurs, his voice dropping a bit deeper as he directly addresses the elephant in the room. 

I give a movement of affirmation, because at this point, what could he do? What could I do? 

“So you saw.” He mumbles, moving to position himself right in front of me, his eyes darkened and laser focused on my figure. 

“Yes.” I whisper, my voice hushed as our proximity decreased, his breath fanning out over my face now. I’d be uncomfortable, if I wasn’t so distracted. 

“Tell me.” He whispers, letting his calloused finger finally touch my skin, running down my neck. “Did it turn you on? Watching me with her?” 

I feel the familiar heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks, my eyes suddenly widening not only due to the sudden proximity, but also the scandalous nature of his words. Did he mean for me to watch? Was that his plan all along? What was this sick and twisted game he was playing?

“Did it.. get you off?” He whispers, his lips leaning in to kiss lightly at the side of my neck where his finger once was. 

I freeze, leaning into his touch and going statue-like all at once. I can’t help the shakiness of my voice when I reply. “I.. wasn’t neutral.” 

“Mm.” He murmurs, kissing now at my jawline. “Did you get off? When she did?” He whispers.

“I didn’t watch that long.” I reply, helplessly, as I feel his hands start to envelop my waist, pulling me closer to him. 

“What a shame.” He mumbles. “I think you would’ve liked the show. I did it for you.” 

At this point, I can barely speak, a slight moan escaping me instead of a coherent reply as his lips continue to leave warm, wet kisses on the expanse of my flesh. 

“I’m sure you’re curious.” He says, his voice soft and seductive. “Would you like me to show you what we did?”

There’s no hesitation, finally, a resounding thought I can translate from brain-to-mouth for him, in complete certainty.

“Yes.” I manage out, breathlessly. 

He makes a noise of satisfaction, quickly pushing me onto the bed. 

“I’d already gotten her wet by touching her before, but if my suspicions are correct.” He murmurs, his hands working deftly to undo my jeans and feel the wetness that had accumulated in between my thighs. “You already are.” He finishes. 

I let out a small whimper as his fingers touch the heated flesh, unable to help my sensitivity to his small, calculated strokes over my clit through my underwear. His fingers starts to move a bit more aggressively, upon feeling the wet patch that had formed there, the flimsy fabric doing little to hide the stickiness he was now collecting on his fingers. He quickly pulls them off as well though, bringing his slightly damp fingers to his mouth, tasting the hint of my arousal that had accumulated there. His eyes were dark, watching my face for any reaction, and in that moment, I know all he can see is pure want. 

I can see the same hunger within his eyes, and I feel a rush of pride as the approval radiates off of him. 

“What next?” I whisper, already desperate for his next slew of ministrations. I don’t care how needy I looked. I was needy. I’d spent so long watching him, and now he was here.

“She wanted my mouth.” He murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His thumb brushes over my clit, his tongue running against plump, pink lips, wetting them, watching over me with a predatory gaze. 

Before I can respond, he’s suddenly everywhere, ducking his head and allowing his tongue to brush over my sex in broad, wet strokes. My response is immediate, my hips bucking up to meet him in a frenzied motion. It seems that he relishes in whatever control he can have in this situation, because he quickly holds down my hips in a firm grip, squeezing the fat there while he continued to ravage me. 

I can barely look at him, pretty brown locks splayed in his face, his lips moving hypnotically against my cunt. Little whimpers escape me, absolutely aching for more. He seems to catch on, and flicks his tongue over me, before suckling against my clit. It’s wet, messy, and the picture of debauchery– and it’s enough to drive me over the edge, my hands gripping the sheets as I cry out his name. 

He seems to be unaffected, getting off his knees, his mouth glistening with my release. The sight makes me wish he could do it again, but before I can get a word in, he’s positioning himself over me, caging me against the bed. 

“Then I fucked her.” He whispers, starting to undo his belt with his free hand. “Can I?” 

I nod, feeling a wave of anticipation, before registering the sensation of the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I feel my chest tighten, watching him with bated breath, absolutely exhilarated. 

“Relax.” He whispers, kissing the lobe of my ear. “You’re in good hands.” 

He utters the last word, before sliding into me, a hushed gasp leaving the both of us. He groans in pleasure, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the feel of my warm, wet cunt around him. He takes a moment, before he’s setting a steady pace, his hips bucking rhythmically into me in a way that’s designed to bring us both so much pleasure. 

I can’t help the string of moans that come out with every slide of his cock inside me, my legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer than he already is. My hands grip onto his shirt, clawing onto the fabric to find any purchase, wanting– no, needing him on me. 

Is it odd to wish a stranger could crawl into your skin itself? 

“Fuck, Spencer.” I moan, unabashedly. “You feel so good.”

“You do too.” He groans, his arms braced on either side of my head before gently lowering himself to crash his lips against mine in a messy kiss. 

I can feel myself barreling towards release, as is he, if the twitch of his cock inside me were to mean anything. It’s not long before his hand reaches in between where our bodies are met, rubbing my clit in fast, small circles. It’s intense in the best way possible, my body barely being able to process how good it felt in the moment. 

“Come for me.” He moans, in between kisses. “Wanna feel you around me. Please.”

I can’t help but obey his words, my cunt convulsing around him in obedience as he subsequently finds his release inside me, groaning loudly as his hips thrust erratically. 

He pulls out, and we’re a tangle of limbs, sweaty and sated, breathing heavy. 

Of course, it’s him, yet again, to break the silence. 

“Two things.” He mumbles, breathlessly. 

“Mm.” I reply, weakly, my head a mess of airiness and complacency after the orgasm he’d just brought me to. 

“One. I want your name.” He says, rolling to his side to get a better look at my face. 

“That can be arranged.” I murmur, nodding dreamily. 

“Second.” He whispers, kissing my cheek. His voice takes on a teasing quality to it, before leaning to brush his lips against my ear.  

“You missed a camera. Behind the plant. They don’t stop recording, do they?” 

okay wowww. clearly this was meant for halloween, if you couldn't tell! this is one of those pieces where i'm like.. hmm .. do i like this? question mark? do i want to put it out? hmm .. but regardless, i hope you guys enjoyed it!! please, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!!! it is sooo important as an author that i get some feedback and know what you guys think, in any capacity. i truly appreciate all of it <33 thank you for reading, thank you for everything!!!

[mv1simp]

Into It ♥️ Part 1 of 3

Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!Reader

i'm into it, yeah, says she wanna fuck me later, girl i'm into it

the one in which you’re newly dating your gorgeous boyfriend, max verstappen, after months of pining and flirting. he’s the perfect gentleman, so romantic and treats you just right! now how do you tell him that you’re desperate for mad max to come out and rail ur insides without sounding like a freak 😚

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut but this time with some plot lol, reader essentially is just trying whatever tactic she can to seduce her bf and make mad max come out in bed, size kink, dom/sub elements, 4k WC

PART TWO HERE ♥️ PART THREE HERE ♥️

You look up blissfully at your boyfriend, Max, from where you’re tucked into his side, his strong arm scooping you against him and keeping you warm. You’re rewatching an old classic, Shrek 2, as you wind down from your dinner plans with your friends earlier than evening. Lando and Daniel had joined as well, teasing you and Max mercilessly about how you two were finally together and that the whole F1 grid had been placing bets on when you would make it official.

You had flushed in a combination of embarrassment and giddiness, unable to hold back a matching laugh with Max who had looked over at you with an adoring gaze, his own heart warm with happiness about finally being able to call you his own. You two had run in the same Monaco circles for years - with him as a driver and you on the McLaren legal team. Though initially you only saw glimpses of him through paddock interviews or social media posts celebrating his multiple winning streaks, the two of you had become a lot closer the past couple years through his friendship with Daniel and Lando. Soon enough you were joining them at weekly Padel sessions, leading to you and Max exchanging funny cat memes or popping online to decimate him and Lando on a Call of Duty stream and then eventually onto deeper conversations, from his latest breakups with his model girlfriends or quiet ramblings with a bottle of wine outside a booming party about the pressures of demanding fathers.

Of course, tongues were wagging anytime you two were seen together - especially when Max had his first time in years being single for months before you had gotten together. You couldn’t deny that you had always thought the older Dutch man was incredibly handsome and funny, always full of interesting facts about niche topics, and you found his intensity and passion for his racing career so attractive, as a high powered professional yourself as a lawyer for a luxury car brand’s executive board. But you had always curbed any growing feelings you had for Max, paranoid that it would compromise the strong friendship you two had developed. Besides, given his affliction for dating vogue models, and his respectful gazes or polite touches compared to the much more flirtier ones from other drivers on the grid, you had never thought max considered you attractive.

But somehow, despite both your busy schedules, despite max being across the globe, you always ended up calling each other first to share sad, happy, or even just boring news. You had never once imagined that after winning his most recent championship the first person he came looking for in his celebrations that night was you, his face flushes from champagne and hugging you tightly, his eyes shining with warmth as he told you he couldn’t have won it without you and suddenly you could no longer deny the rapid palpitations of your heart when you looked up at him. And as he looked at you, thumb gently brushing across your cheeks, warm breaths mingling together as your faces drew closer, he couldn’t deny himself any longer either - Schat, all I’ve been thinking about is what I really wanted for my prize instead of this trophy. Can I kiss you now?

And the rest was history. Fast forward a few months and it’s still so surreal to call Max your boyfriend, you think, as you come back to the present, watching him fondly as he chuckles at the movie. Dating him has been a dream - he’s your first serious relationship, your standards too high to waste time with any of the subpar guys you had gone on first dates with before - and wow, did Max know exactly how to knock all of those standards out of the park. He would always drive and pick you up anywhere you wanted, in his sleek luxury cars that had pedestrians gawping, one large hand on your thigh and asking how your day had been. You had literally stopped taking your wallet out anymore as Max always slammed down his black Amex at any opportunity to pay for you - dinners, trips, jewellery and luxurious shopping sprees - and although the staunch feminist in you had initially disagreed you couldn’t help but feel so cared for, so looked after - knowing all you needed on a night out was one hand around his arm and the other clutching a pretty little Chanel purse he had picked up for you at last month’s race weekend, with a matching Dior lip gloss inside. If you were ever having a hard day at work he would always order your favourite foods straight to your apartment, where he would meet you and bitch and vent alongside you about whichever client had been giving you grief.

And my god, the sex - THE SEX with your man had been absolutely amazing. Considering the difference in your past number of relationships, max was keenly aware that he had a lot more experience than you and was so unbelievably sweet and patient - letting you take all the time you needed to go slow and work up the confidence gradually to ask for what you wanted for him. Your first time together had been incredibly romantic, a night at a private house he had booked out for the week on the Italian coastline. After a candlelit dinner and a bottle of wine you found yourself in his lap on the outdoor chaise, soft kisses turning more and more heated, max whispering are you sure, liefje? If you’re not ready-

to which you had cut him off with another deep kiss, pleading for him to make you his once and for all ❤️ His eyes had flickered with a deep intensity at your possessive statement before softening out to adoration again as he gently unlaced your dress and trailed kisses down your body, worshipping you. you’d both cum embarrassingly faster than you’d have liked, high off the feeling of one another, max cleanly finishing inside a condom he threw away before carrying you in his arms to the bedroom inside. Since then, you’d both figured out you had a combined very high sex drive, using every opportunity in your schedules to make love, max never hesitating to always make sure you came first, either on his fingers, tongue or cock. You had the perfect boyfriend. Truly. You couldn’t ask for anything more, yet -

- yet, here you were, feeling like an absolute bitch about the recurrent thoughts that had planted in your mind as you watched max come out of the bathroom freshly showered, getting ready for bed after finishing a gaming stream with his mates following your Shrek 2 viewing. The issue was that your boyfriend - your incredibly hot, sexy, tall Dutch boyfriend - was so stupidly enticing but so oblivious that he has no idea what he did to you. You bit your lip as you looked at him, hair dripping wet, distractingly saying something to you while texting on his phone - but your mind was only fixed on how big and strong Max looked. Your boyfriend was much bigger than you, almost towering over you at 6”1 with your 5”1 frame. His athletic training currently during the season meant he had been looking extra delectable lately, defined abs, thick muscular thighs and a broad shoulder and back that narrowed down to a narrow (or as Lando joked, slutty) waist, highlighted now by the grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips that did nothing to hide the sizeable bulge in between his legs. It was undeniable that he was packing, to the point where you had called it his third leg after first seeing him naked, making him laugh but also take even more care everytime he entered you - you were a lot smaller than his previous partners, after all. He always made sure his pace was gentle and slow, avoiding fully entering you too much in worry of causing you pain. Truly, your boyfriend was too sweet - everything he did was to avoid causing your any pain or distress - which is why you felt too embarrassed to ask him directly to be rougher with you when he was simply looking out for your comfort. It has been perfect for you initially, but now you felt more adjusted to his size, and each time you slept together you felt yourself becoming more and more desperate for Max to be just a little bit rougher, a little bit more controlling. What would he think when his usually sweet, happy go lucky girlfriend admitted she actually fantasised about him completely ruining her? So, of course, you being you - an ambitious feminist - have decided to hatch a conniving strategy to seduce your boyfriend into giving it to you just right!! 💕

Starting tonight - you had already planned to spend the night at Max’s, relaxing after the hectic work week you had both had. Often, you wore his comfortable hoodies that dwarfed you and smelt just like him as you cuddled in bed. Instead tonight you wore an angelic pink lace Agent Provocateur nightie, bows and all, pushing your cute tits up on display for him and complimenting your caramel skin perfectly. Enough to drive Max crazy, right? Sitting against the plush pillows, you had been reading one of your steamy dark romance novels - your latest outlet these days while you manifested getting some back breaking sex with Max - but of course had ended up distracted by the sight of your himbo boyfriend emerging from the shower.

-Schat? So what do you think? Max finally looked up from his phone, making you come back to reality and realize you hadn’t been answering his question. Max’s eyes widened seeing your pretty little form on his bed - he had never seen you wear an outfit like that in bed before. He cleared his throat, inconspicuously shifting his stance so you didn’t notice his hard on at the sight of you when you hastily stumbled to reply - Oh sorry maxie, I missed what you were saying, just a bit tired after today

Max immediately came to your side in bed, looking guilty. Of course Schat, sorry, I’m keeping you up with my gaming stream aren’t I? You had such a long week already, we can go straight to bed now. You cursed your own slip up - of course, your sweet Max would put your comfort first over what you were sure looked like mission successful given the rapid hardening of his bulge you had zoned in on.

You try again as Max dims the bedside lamps, taking your book gently away from your hands and setting it to the side. You lean softly in next to him, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, tits right up against his hard biceps so that your breasts are basically cushioning his arm right in between them. Your nightie rises up your legs, showcasing your soft, luscious thighs for him. Max smiles lovingly at you, cradling your face before peppering your cheeks with baby kisses. You look so pretty, sweetheart. So sweet to wait for me before falling asleep, mein Schat.

You lean in further, lips pouting in an effort your boyfriend would finally catch the hint but instead you found yourself gently maneouvered and tucked into his side, his large hands rubbing soothing circles along your back as he placed a final kiss on your forehead. Goodnight, darling. Your eye twitched at his definitive words, perplexed at how your plan had been so unsuccessful, but you sighed and wished goodnight to Max, falling asleep and already plotting for another day.

A couple of weeks later you decided to up the ante. A sexy, bold crimson red lingerie teddy set, practically see through and showcasing your tan nipples through the lace and mesh, and a pathetic excuse of some lacy red panties to match. You smirked as you eyed yourself in the mirror - sure, it was quite a forward look, but you had found yourself becoming increasingly more desperate for your boyfriend’s attentions after attending his Monaco race today. You did your best to attend the races you could but with your own demanding schedule often struggled to make it, so were very excited to support your boyfriend this time - especially as you had been keeping track of how this season was difficult compared to earlier years given the poorer quality of the RB car. Your eyes had widened at seeing the events this weekend - a string of bad luck events. First, his engine had stalled during free practise, making him lose precious practise time, and then a red flag had been called as he was finishing an almost perfect qualifying lap, ruining his chances of pole, and finally during the actual race he was clipped on the side by one of the Aston Martin’s, making him spin out but still incredibly go on to get P2. It was amazing result given everything, but what caught your attention was a side of your boyfriend you had only every heard whispers about emerge on the track. In the past, you had only attended races he had easily won, appearing calm and collected throughout the weekends as he cruised to P1 - easily overpowering everyone else. Today though - Mad Max, his fans excitedly cheered and paddock staff gossiped, Mad Max is finally back!! In his villain era!!

And your Max was indeed seething at everyone - competitors, his strategy team, the stewards for not giving Aston Martin a penalty - and you had listened in on the radio to hear him angrily swear and yell to his engineer, seen him aggressively overtake and defend his place on the track, and finally seen the stormy expression on his face as he emerged out of his car, clearly pissed with narrowed eyes as he stalked off to his driver room without a word, not even sparing a glance at you or anyone else. Sure, you should have felt a little hurt that he hadn’t noticed you or seen the perfectly planned designer outfit you had arrived wearing, sending the paparazzi into a flurry, but you completely understood that his career was first on the line today and he needed some time to cool off. And honestly, instead of feeling bad for Max - the sick, twisted part of you couldn’t deny that he had looked sooo sexy completely dominating on the track, authoritatively giving orders over the radio and confidently outmanoeuvring his rivals. You had to catch yourself from biting your lip or squeezing your legs together as his rough accented tones got more and more angry throughout the race over your headphones, imaging what it would be like to be pinned down by his strong arms, to have him lean down behind you and whisper naughty things in your ear, to ask if you liked being a dirty little-

“Oh! Y/N! Can we get a quick word?” The sky sports reporters interruption hastily put an end to the illicit thoughts you had been having. Quickly trying to school your expression into something much more PR friendly, you flashed a dazzling smile, “Of course!”. As expected they tried to rile responses out of you to condemn Max’s aggressive performance. But you had stood for none of it, honestly and clearly stating that your boyfriend had driven very capably and fairly given the circumstances and you were extremely impressed with his performance. “He’s a triple world champion after all. Did you just expect him to roll over and not defend his title? If you don’t agree with it then no need to watch it. At the end of the day he’s the one driving the car over the finish line while everyone else is speculating hypotheticals.” The reporters thank you for your input, stumbling for words at your strong defence of your boyfriend. You wandered off before they could say more, catching up with Max a couple hours later when he had debriefed and collected his trophy, looking a lot more chilled out than earlier.

Hey, Schatje he mumbled gently, leaning down to kiss you on the lips after pulling you from a conversation with the other WAGs. Max! you had exclaimed brightly, congratulating him on his win and letting him know just how proud you were of him. You knew he would be tired - we could go to the red bull celebration yacht party for 30min, show our faces, and then play hooky back to ours? I already put in a dinner order for your favourite lamb kebabs.

Max smiled down at you - you knew him so well, always knew what to say and when he wanted to relax. Sounds amazing, Schat he voiced in agreement. Later, after eating dinner at home, Lando sent him a trending insta reel with the caption “Mate, she’s too good to you, you bagged a queen.” Max grinned, expecting some fanmade memes about you and him as he clicked the link (he has seen all the Queen Y/N and he’s just…Ken Max tweets already. You were a well liked figure on the paddock for years with your well mannered speech, excellent dress style and courteous relationships with most of the staff.)

He was suprised to instead see an interview post race of you defending him staunchly, shutting down any opportunity the reporters used to manipulate your words. He walked into his bedroom to find you conveniently waiting for him in bed again, nose buried in one of your romance models, and started laughing at how effective you were at putting the media clowns in their place. Thanks for sticking up for me always, liefje. You smiled back at him with pure adoration - of course Maxie, that’s the advantage of dating a lawyer, right?

He agreed enthusiastically, so caught up on now yapping about the race as he climbed into bed with you that he didn’t even notice the sexy little outfit you had planned just for him, covering you up with his soft duvet before you could properly twirl around and showcase it for him. Your eye twitched again as he yawned in between statements, grabbing your waist and bringing your back in against him, spooning you while his voice gently trailed off, falling asleep.

Meanwhile, your mind was running at 100 miles a minute, a scowl on your face. This was ridiculous, you had gotten all dressed up in an overpriced beautiful outfit just for your boyfriend to get distracted by a 3min interview you had done with an asshole reporter and then fall asleep instead of ravaging you?? You had tonight would be the perfect night, for you to be the one to support him for once, be the perfect outlet for his stress, to use you and manipulate your body for his own pleasure…heat pooled in your gut at your dark thoughts, and you grow wetter between your legs at the mental image of max having his way with you. Maybe it still wasn’t too late. Sighing gently, you closed your eyes, pretending to drift into sleep but moving your plump, barely covered ass behind you to gently grind up on your boyfriend’s cock, which was now rapidly hardening with your practised movements. You sensed Max had awakened when you felt his arms tighten around you, keeping you still in an effort to stop you from exciting him to much while you were still asleep and he couldn’t act on it.

Mmmhmm, maxie, feels so good~ you moaned, still keeping up the facade of having a wet dream, breathing getting heavier and pushing your tits against the edges of his fingers that were wrapped around your waist. You felt him exhale sharply as he came into contact with your hardened nipples, a smirk on your face. Your grinding had managed to push the duvet partially off, exposing your red lingerie in the moonlight - surely this would be enough to drive any man crazy!!

You heard him sigh behind you, shifting slightly and inadvertently pushing his cock against your skimpy underwear as he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck - and you had to hold back a squeal with how hard and big he felt against you, this was it, he was finally going to give in and fuck you awake while he thought you were having a wet dream, he could slide it right in, you were ready for it, for him, you were soo wet already just from imagining it, this was so hot-

Your fantasies are quickly shut down as max easily used his strength to turn you around so your face was buried into his chest again, your ass now devastatingly much too far away to get any action, and began rubbing your shoulders soothingly to get you to fall into a deep sleep again. You almost combusted at the action before deflating and accepting defeat once more. Your kind boyfriend of course would never toe the line of having sex with you in a dubious way were you were asleep. You wanted - no needed, to bring Mad Max out in your bedroom, and you were determined to do whatever it took.

Over the next few weeks you threw countless strategies Max’s way. Leaving your dirty romance books out in plain view, sometimes even opened up to a page right in the middle of a jaw dropping sex scene. Lacier and lacier bralettes and panties left everywhere to prompt him. “Accidentally” deleting his best SIM race time record on his rig. But nothing seemed to be working - max diligently tidyed up the stray underwear, reshelved the books, and generously forgave you for the SIM error before setting a new record later that night instead of fucking you angrily like you had planned. You got more frustrated as both your work schedules became busier, leaving you less time to connect with him. Fuck, last weekend - last weekend you had even thrown out all your boxes of condoms before jumping into Max’s arms when he had come home, laughing and eager to see you. One thing let to another and he was as eager to be inside you as you were to have him inside you, voicing It’s been too long Schat, I’ve missed your sweet body so much, so beautiful for me in between kisses as he reached for the bedstand drawer to grab a condom - only to find it empty. You pretended to have a confused look on your face (truly, you deserved an Oscar for your performance this past month) before oh so innocently suggesting Maxie, we- we don’t have to use one if you don’t want, I’m on the pill -

And there it was - a brief darkening of your boyfriends’ normally loving ice blue eyes, his sharp gaze on you at your suggestion of doing it raw for the first time - before he schooled his features back to normal and gave you a sweet kiss, It’s okay Schat, you’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to feel uncomfortable for my sake, I’ll just grab some from the corner store, da? He was off you before you could protest, promising he would be back soon as you blinked away tears of frustration and denial that yet again your plan had failed. When he finally entered you later that night, ever so gently, condom and all, you closed your eyes tight and imagined how each vein and ridge of his thick cock might feel when fully buried inside you to the hilt, if that goddamn condom broke, if he spilled all of his thick, creamy cum inside you, so much that it spurted out the sides, leaking everywhere, claiming you as his and no one else’s, making such a filthy, filthy mess-

- you came harder than you had the whole month, burying your face in Max’s shoulder to contain the scream that threatened to spill out. You sighed as you came down from your high. Fuck, you needed a drink.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Follow along for Part 2 of this 3 part series to see if dear reader will finally manage to uncockblock herself and release Mad Max!! 😚😚

[bamsara]

trod au ramble u can ignore

when i say slowburn in an enemies to friends to lovers for Trod I mean slowburn. 300k before Narinder even openly admits he cares for the Lamb, and Lamb actually opens up more than just a shield of positivity and another 100k of character growth, drama, complicated intricacies of grief and anger to communication. The Lamb has boundaries and sticks by them constantly in trod, they're not a pushover, but they don't blow up and react in explosive anger the same way that Narinder does and they are mistaken for soft by him for it, when it's him having to be the one who is constantly re-evaluating his priorities and his behavior because the lamb isn't taking shit from him, despite patience and love, and he's put in this position where he's allowing the grief and the hurt to keep hurting himself and the Lamb in the process, until he risks losing them and Narinder makes the active decision to work on himself. They HAD a healthy, wonderful friendship before, he cared for them. He still does. He wishes he didn't but god he still does.

but i dislike when characters do one change or have one realization and suddenly they're super nice. no I want them to be continuously complex. I want their bad habits and miscommunication to not instantly or quickly disappear, I want continuous effort from the wronger. do you hear me. CONTINUOUS EFFORT. that means a character fucking up again and again and relasping and changing and cursing and being like well he doesn't need to be any different because its not his fault then going back and being like. no. it was my fault. i am wronged and I am the wronger. i need complexities. Let us not forget the definition of 'enemy' in the enemies to friends to lovers here. if they start off soft then where is the growth. Where is the room for growth I want. Where is it.

they get to the processing of emotions they haven't allowed themselves to feel properly for centuries to take this friendship gone sour by betrayal, plagued by anger and hurt to something slowly blooming back into trust and care and soft until eventually its this healthy love of these uberly overpowered pair of gods

Trod bad end is when Narinder just speed runs the 'rehabilitation' part of the rehabilitation of death' and it circles back to him going feral in the head. Still an asshole? okay your lamb is gone. regret your pride and ego because the patient love you were afforded is gone forever and the last memory you gave them was not the love you could have given them but it will be the love that destroys mortality to get them back.

amnesia au Narinder is just happy to be here. no betrayal, no angst. eventually when his memory does return and he gets caught pretending he doesn't remember just so he can be sweet to them without his pride in the way will force a conversation that will essentially fix the horrific communication these two have. speedrun trod x2

Current Trod Narinder is a emo angsty bastard who's rightfully hurt at being imprisoned and (in his heart) betrayed by someone he trusted dearly (again) while Post-Trod Narinder is still a feral bastard but with truly un-constipated, true equal love for the Lamb that wears a wedding ring made of his own blood to the tune of 'i miss my wife tails' and got a praise kink

but if its not absolute hell getting to that point then WHAT IS THE POINT

and all these are mostly about Narinder but don't even get me started on the Lamb's issues. That sheep thang is hiding shit.

Except I can't talk about the Lamb's hiding issues Too Much yet unless you've been in my art streams and have seen some of my comics, then IYKYK but aaaaaaaaaaUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHG

[lqveharrington]

Silver Roses & Fallen Snow

PROLOGUE (masterlist for series)

summary: You and Coriolanus Snow having been dating, but your father disapproves of it, leading to an Ultimatum. Will the deal be secured? Or will the 10th Annual Hunger Games ruin it all?

pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: (proof read once !!) mentions of death, you and Coriolanus being oblivious, fluff, twinge of jealousy, angst, italics are flashbacks, (let me know if i missed any !!)

word count: 2k +

a/n: it’s been too long since i’ve written something. let’s hope this series does well :)

You and Coriolanus were given an ultimatum. Well, more like Coriolanus was given an ultimatum.

Ever since you were born, your father and mother wanted the best for you. Especially your father. Being born in a family belonging to the Capitol, you were already lucky, in a way. You were essentially being given everything on a silver platter. However, you were always in an optimistic mindset, even when the first Rebellion started. Your mother was the one keeping your family happy and looking on the bright side, but when she died during the Rebellion, your father completely shut the world out, including his own daughter. When the world returned to a sort of functionality, the first Hunger Games started up. As an eight-year-old with no mother, you relied on yourself and the help your father hired around the manor. Heading to school, you walked with your caretaker and occasionally the Snows joined you.

Your family used to be close with the Snow family. You remember them coming over for dinner parties and playing with their only son, Coriolanus Snow. It wasn’t until your father heard about what happened to them in the war he left them behind as the Capitol built up again. You, of course, always stood by the Snows. You visited them as much as possible growing up and when you reached Academy, you and Coriolanus became closer than ever.

“What are you doing, Coryo?” You ask, chin propped on his shoulder.

He smiled at you, “I’m trying to write my paper for English, but you are so distracting.”

You frown jokingly, “Sucks for you, I finished mine already.”

“Nice to know.” He murmured as he scribbled down a few more sentences.

You watched him for a bit before getting up, walking out of his room to find his cousin. You were always interested in her amazing skill for clothing, but another thing was on your mind at the moment.

“Tigris?” You call out, finding her sitting at the table at the front. She hummed in response, carefully hand sewing a beautiful dress. “I need advice.”

“About?”

“Well…” You take a seat across from her. “You’re a senior, right?”

“Mhm.” She pulled her dress up, looking a bit closer. You watch her focus shift from the dress to you after she placed her materials down. “What’s up?”

“You’ve like, you know… Dated someone… Right?”

“Where are we going with this conversation?” Tigris rested her head in her hands, watching your face redden. “Maybe I know where this is going. Do you like him?”

You flushed and looked down at the table. “Him who?”

“Don’t be scared, Y/N. What am I going to do? Tell my stubborn cousin? He won’t believe a word I say the second I mention your name.” Tigris spoke with an airy voice.

“Well—”

Coriolanus walked in, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I finished my paper, it didn’t take long.”

“Hey, Coryo.” Tigris smiled with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Hi?”

“Did you know that your lovely little flower, here, likes—“

“Tigris!” You glare at the seventeen-year-old. “You said you wouldn’t.”

“Oops.” She stood, wiping her dress from invisible dirt. “But, you know, out of curiosity… Coryo, do you like someone at school?”

Pink dusted his cheeks as he glanced down at you before looking at his cousin. “No.”

She squinted her eyes at him, “No?”

He shook his head, refusing to meet yours or Tigris’ eyes. She hummed and got close to both of you.

“My advice, ask them out before someone else does.”

As you both got older with the passing time, your crush on him intensified and vice versa. Tigris always asked if either one of you asked the other out, but you both always said no. On your sixteenth birthday, he asked you to be his girlfriend, which was during your third year in the Academy. Around that time, you became better acquainted with those in your class. Coryo would get jealous, but ever so subtly. Even if that meant leaving mid conversation with another one of your friends just to talk to you.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!” Sejanus nudged your shoulder, handing you a small present.

“Thank you, Sej.” You take the gift and lightly put it in your bag. “I’ll open it later, I have a—“

“Hey, beautiful. Can I steal you?” Coriolanus appeared by your left, nodding at Sejanus.

“Coryo, I was just talking too—“

“No no, go ahead. I just wanted to give you your present.” Sejanus smiled.

“If you say so. I’ll talk to you later!” You call out to him, letting Coryo link your hands together. “I was busy.” You gave a joking pout.

“Yeah, well, I needed your attention.” He pulled you away, near the few cherry trees remaining at the Capitol. His tone sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine, but you pushed the thought away as he sat you down on a concrete bench.

“Okay, what is it?” You cross your arms and legs, looking up at him. “I promised my father I’d come straight home today.”

Coriolanus dug through his bag before handing you a small, rectangular box. You carefully took it from his hands, pulling at the small bow. You gasped at the contents of the box, a silver necklace with a rose pendant hanging at its center.

“Coryo… It’s gorgeous.” You gently took the necklace out of its container, taking a closer look. “How did you…?”

“I may or may not have found some odd jobs around the poorer parts to get money for this.” He shrugged.

You clutch the necklace in your right hand and give him the brightest smile you could muster. “I love it. I really do… Help me put it on?”

He took the necklace from your hand and unclasped it, adjusting it to your liking.

“You didn’t need to get this for me, you know? I like our usual birthday hang outs.” You say, feeling the cold from his hands emit onto your neck.

“I wanted to.” He clasped the necklace back together, bringing his head near your own. “You deserve the world.”

You turn your head, face millimeters away from his own. Your eyes flicker down to his lips before back to his piercing blue eyes which had done the same. Coriolanus held your face with his left hand, rubbing your cheek.

“Can I?” He whispered to you, earning a nod.

He pulled you close to him, planting a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled into the kiss, placing your hand on his chest.

Quickly running out of air, you parted from him, eyes fluttering open to see him. You looked at his lips and lightly laughed, rubbing your thumb on his bottom lip.

“Have I got something?” He asks, voice slightly breathy.

You hum, “Just a bit of my lipstick on your lips, nothing major.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls you into another kiss, this time, his free hand was on your waist. You made a sound of surprise before melting into the kiss as well, messing with the fabric in his suit.

“Be my girlfriend.” He says in between kisses as you ended up on his lap. “Please.”

“Of course.” You separated yourself from him, taking heavy breaths. “Of course, I’ll be your girlfriend, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Then I’ll gladly be your boyfriend, Y/N Lovett.” He placed one last kiss on your lips. “Now, how much lipstick is on my face?”

“A lot.” You giggle, resting your forehead against his.

Over the next few months, you told Grandma’am and Tigris that you started dating. Both were happy, but Tigris especially. She would ask about your dates and occasionally made you dresses for them.

Yet, when your father found out about you dating Coriolanus, he simply disapproved. He hated the idea that you were dating someone from a family with no money, no more power to their name. Of course, no one else knew that except Dean Highbottom and your family.

Everyday was the same battle with your father. He always commented on your behavior after learning you were with the young Snow and refused to accept the fact that you two were dating without any benefits for his own family name.

Therefore, the ultimatum was created.

“You must tell Tigris to stop making me dresses.” You fiddle with the bow on the strap.

“Do you not like them?” He squeezes your hand, the warm breeze of the summer hitting the both of you.

You shake your head, “No! No, I love them. But I don’t think she should be spending all these resources on me. I offer to pay, but she won’t—“

“You don’t need to pay. You never do.” He stops your pace, looking into your eyes.

“Coryo…” You sigh, looking around you. Deeming it was safe, you continued. “You and I both know she shouldn’t be making these for me without pay. I should at least help pay for some of the—“

“Hey hey, look at me.” Coriolanus took your face with both of his hands. “You don’t have to pay for us at all. Don’t worry about it.”

“But—“

“Get your hands off my daughter, Snow.” Your father demanded as he came out of the manor, both you and Coryo jumping at the man’s voice.

‘Sorry.’ You mouthed to your boyfriend, forgetting you were walking back to your home.

Your father clicked his tongue, “Come inside, we haven’t got all day.”

You hurry your steps to the porch of the manor, your father waiting for who knows what.

“You too, Mr Snow.” He beckoned the platinum blond over. “I doubt you don’t want to hear this conversation involving my daughter and your… Relationship.”

Your steps faltered at his words but you followed the butler into the living area, supposedly where your father wanted to discuss something. You sat on the lovers sofa as Coriolanus walked in with your father second. You gave a subtle gesture for him to sit next to you. Coryo took long strides to sit by you, still leaving a good amount of room because of your father.

“Tea?” He asked the both of you as the help walked in with a tray.

“Thank you, Em.” You take a cup of tea from her, setting it to the side.

“No, thank you.” Coriolanus waved her off a bit, hands kept to himself.

“Right.” Your father sat up straight on the couch opposite of you both. “About your relationship.”

A few beats pass.

“You both are comfortable with one another and that’s fine. But, Mr. Snow, you really aren't of any value to us at the moment.”

Your hand flexes at your side, suddenly angered by your father’s poor choice of words.

“Maybe, before the Rebellion, yes. But now, the Snows are nothing but rags disguised as designer material.”

“Is there a point to this, father?” Your eyes bore into his.

“Ah, yes. You see, I wouldn’t mind your relationship with my daughter at all if you were to somehow make your way back up. Let’s say, winning the Plinth prize. You win, I allow you to date my daughter. You lose, well, she’ll be arranged to marry another who will benefit the Lovett name.” Your father spoke with such a demeaning manner.

“Father, that’s not—“

“I’ll do it.” Coryo cuts you off, earning a wide eyed look from you. “I agree to those terms, sir.”

“Very well. May the odds be in your favor, Mr. Snow.” He got up, taking his leave. “Oh, and Y/N?”

You look at your father, a permanent scowl on your face.

“I advise you to look for other suitors before I pick for you.”

Your father finally left the two of you, your eyes snapping to the blond next to you.

“Coriolanus Snow. Are you out of your mind? Where has your brain gone?” You smack his chest in between every word before getting stopped by the male. “Let go of me!”

“You know I only agreed to it because I can do it. You know that.” He loosens his grip on your wrists. “I have healthy grades, I never miss a class.”

Your eyes gloss over, “You better win that Plinth Prize, Coryo.”

Coryo cradles your head with his hands, kissing the top of your head. “I’m not losing you. I never will.”

From that day onwards, it was a constant battle for him to be the best out of the best at Academy.

After all, Snow always lands on top.

(ask for taglist in comments or dm !!)

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[saphronethaleph]

Nu Jedi Order

“So, I’m curious,” Jocasta Nu said, over tea. “About your opinion on the ethics of clones, and of cloning.”

Yoda, Mace and Bant all sighed.

“This is going to be one of those difficult questions, isn’t it?” Bant asked, rubbing her temples. “Masters, can I bow out if this is too philosophically difficult?”

“No,” Yoda informed her, bluntly. “Stay you should. Good for you, it will be.”

“Thanks,” the Mon Cal muttered. “All right, so… I think that cloning isn’t any different to creating a child. The individual who has been created is their own person, both independent and autonomous, and you owe them a duty of care for their childhood and to make sure they are set up in the world. As would be done with a child.”

“That’s a strong start, Master Eerin,” Mace noted, with a nod. “Well done.”

“Thank you,” Bant said. “...though I hope someone else is going to speak up, now. I still feel nervous in these situations.”

“Nerves are the path to not speaking up,” Yoda said, sagely. “Not speaking up leads to ideas forgotten. Ideas forgotten are solutions missed, and contemplation lost. And a conversation, we are here for.”

“Do you think it’s ethical for a clone to be made into a soldier?” Jocasta Nu said.

“That’s… a difficult one for me, I admit,” Mace mused. “Because… we didn’t ask for the army. The army was already there.”

“What worries me about it is that they didn’t really have a choice,” Bant admitted. “They were trained for this since their birth, and… I know they don’t mind, they’ve said it, but I feel like I would have been more comfortable if they’d been given a choice.”

“The cloners of Kamino do consider their clones… output,” Mace said. “Product. It’s worried me about the whole thing.”

“When the war is over, the clones we will champion,” Yoda declared. “Nothing new, this is.”

“It’s not,” Jocasta said. “But I was thinking about it in the specific context of… raising a child from a young age to fulfil a specific role.”

She spread her hands. “That was what happened to all of us, after all.”

“You’re not wrong, Jocasta,” Mace conceded. “I feel like there’s a difference, but I’m not sure I can articulate it.”

“It’s that the Jedi are valued, I think,” Bant suggested. “We… well, it takes a long time to learn the self-discipline that’s essential to using the Force, and we have a position in the galaxy that is well thought of and well respected. The clones… they’re grown up faster so they can be useful more quickly, and they’re treated as a commodity.”

“So would it be different if the clones were better respected?” Jocasta asked.

Yoda frowned, putting down his teacup.

“An important consideration, it is,” he said. “To the rest of the galaxy, look like Kamino does to us, we might.”

“Perhaps,” Mace mused. “Though I think perhaps part of the difference is that we respect the decision of the parents.”

“Don’t the Kaminoans respect the decision of the parents, for the clones?” Bant asked. “If – if creating clones is like parenting, I mean. Jango Fett certainly gave permission.”

She looked troubled. “And is it the decision of the parents or the child that matters more? Did any of us really have the chance to choose to become a Jedi, except Anakin?”

“That gets back to the self-discipline argument,” Mace noted. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, I’m saying that… there are other ways to reliably get soldiers, but are there other ways to reliably get Jedi with the proper self-discipline?”

There was a silence for a long moment.

“Someone who wants to leave the Jedi order can do so,” Mace added. “But it’s not common, and having grown up in the Jedi Order… someone might not truly feel they can leave.”

“Should it have been an option given to the clones?” Jocasta asked. “To either fight in the Grand Army of the Republic, or to choose to not do so?”

“Perhaps,” Yoda said, slowly. “Perhaps.”

He sighed. “Protectors of the Republic, the Jedi are. But protect it alone, we cannot.”

“I don’t think we were ever meant to protect it alone,” Bant said. “To protect it against the Sith, yes. To help it stay together, yes. But… surely the population of the Republic should be willing to fight for it? At least some of them?”

She looked down at her hands. “And if none of them are… does that mean it should still exist?”

“If the clones hadn’t been available, then the Separatists could have done terrible damage to the Republic before there were armies able to stop them,” Jocasta pointed out. “They were the ones with the armies ready to go. It’s a paradox.”

The archivist sipped from her tea. “The worst time to build an army is after being invaded, but that army has to be attached to the ideals of the Republic more than it is attached to any one person.”

“Devoted to the Republic, the Clones seem to be,” Yoda said, frowning. “But ask them more often, I should. And raised to be, they were.”

“...which is curious,” Mace noted. “Given who their template worked for.”

“They were ordered for the Republic,” Bant said. “For the Jedi, in fact – that was what the Kaminoans were told from the start. And, as we saw, the Kaminoans keep secrets rather than betray their employers – and they raised the army to be as they should be, based on what they were told.”

“I almost wish that the army had been ordered about years ago,” Jocasta said, thoughtfully. “Raised at a normal speed, rather than twice as fast – and offered the choice. Having grown up in a normal community, in fact.”

“That would make them normal citizens,” Mace noted, though he wasn’t disagreeing. “Treating them as people would be far more ethical, you’re right.”

Jocasta nodded, stirring her teacup.

“And no more questions that deeply philosophical, please,” Bant added. “I’d rather enjoy the tea. I get so few opportunities to relax…”

Around twenty years later, an X-Wing starfighter dropped out of hyperspace in the Adega system.

“...well, I don’t see much of anything,” Luke admitted. “But this is where Master Obi-Wan told me to go…”

R2’s reply appeared on the screen, and Luke laughed.

“Yes, he was there,” Luke replied. “I guess… see if there’s anything out there emitting signals?”

He flicked a switch as he did, then sighed.

“I really hope we don’t have to search this planet and its moon,” he muttered, noticing the forest moon orbiting the primary world. “Planets are huge…”

Then a signal came in, and the comm systems of his fighter crackled.

“Skywalker,” a voice said. “You’re expected.”

“I am?” Luke asked. “You knew I was coming?”

“Yes,” the voice agreed. “The homing beacon is on frequency 13, band 4.”

The transmission stopped, and Luke frowned – mystified – before seeing that R2 had switched one of the sensors to frequency 13, band 4.

A weak, fuzzy signal was showing up on the forest moon, and Luke rolled his little fighter before pointing it down to see what was going on.

When he landed on a clear landing pad, the situation was no clearer. There was a moderately-sized settlement just on the other side of a shallow river from where he’d landed, with irrigated farms and pastures for woolly animals on the hills, but almost half the settlement was built into the trees.

And there was something… weird. He could feel it.

“Well, I guess we should find out what’s going on,” Luke shrugged, getting out of his fighter, and as he did an old human woman came striding out of the trees. There were two young men and a young woman with her – the younger woman was a dark-skinned tholothian, while one of the men was a twi’lek and the other was a human.

“Welcome,” the woman said, with a smile. “Master Obi-Wan Kenobi informed us that you were coming.”

“What was he like?” the young human added, then looked embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s not a problem,” the older woman told him.

Luke was staring, because… the young man was just a little bit familiar.

And he couldn’t define how.

“So,” the woman went on, pleasantly. “Tell me, Skywalker. Have you ever had an idea where you can’t decide if it’s an excellent idea or a terrible one?”

Luke blinked.

“…more than once,” he admitted. “Most recently, there was this attack on an Imperial weapons facility where Han disguised himself as Jabba’s – look, who are you?”

“I am Master Jocasta Nu,” the woman said. “And these are Teras Gallia, Tora’shen… and Joras Kenobi.”

Luke might have fallen over if R2 hadn’t been immediately behind him.

“So, speaking of ideas,” Master Nu said, spreading her hands. “When the Great Purge began, I absconded with as much of the Temple medical records as I could find, and managed to source some cloning cylinders… and we have had no idea what is going on in the rest of the galaxy until now. Would you be able to inform us?”

[elodieunderglass]

(Inspired by a conversation with NAMELESS FRIEND saying they found Killie sexy and wanted X Reader fic and I was like BABE?? YOUR JUDGEMENT?)

Pairing: Killie x Reader (any gender)

✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞

Killie’s horrible little smoker’s cough has taken on a new quality. After careful consideration, you decide that it sounds like someone taking a bladed implement to a piece of meat. A machete, maybe?

“What’s that cough?” You ask, interested from an anthropological perspective. Killie looks up at you quickly, like a small, wet creature that lives in a sewer peering up at an unexpected visitation from the outside world. A rat, maybe, with black shiny eyes, or an alligator.

“Nothing,” he says, although it being Killie sounds more like “nrtn,” and performs a disappearing act, like the Cheshire Cat, but without leaving a smile hanging in the air. He’s off to ride five races in the soaking mist, a completely normal thing to do.

✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞

In bed that night, you make a friendly pass at Killie, who coughs like Gollum trying to swallow a live squirrel. You tell him this. He looks at you, hollow-cheeked and burning-eyed like a medieval saint, and says “Colm’s vegetarian. Isn’t he?”

“Is he?” You say, before remembering not to follow Killie when he tries to distract you. “Hey. You need a doctor.”

In response he only hacks up a lung- Gollum has the advantage, but the squirrel isn’t making it easy - and regaining his composure, tracks back to the beginning of the conversation. The effort is gallant. “Didja want to have sex, then?”

✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞

The mention of Colm has given you an idea, and you manage to find out that he’s on one of his mysterious peregrinations around England with a horsebox. The stars align, and he comes by at your request, and interprets the rest of your request as “drop on Killie with the smooth inevitability of a landslide, wrap him in a bedsheet, roll him up and bundle him into one of the stalls of the horsebox.”

In the passenger seat of the very disreputable Land Rover you admit to being slightly impressed by his technique (is this what he does with horses? What does Colm DO, anyway?)

Colm nods peaceably, giving the impression that it’s no trouble.

Carrying the conversational torch, you comment on Colm’s heavy foot on the accelerator. He looks at you with a completely different species of drowned-animal reproach than his brother - Colm’s long-lashed eyes being more like a fawn sacrificed to a peat bog - and taps the speedometer.

“We have to be above forty miles per hour?” you interpret, cleverly. “Why?”

Colm looks at you.

You look at Colm.

“He wouldn’t jump out,” you say, reasonably.

Colm looks at you.

“He wouldn’t jump out,” you say again.

Colm sighs as he’s forced to decelerate for an amber light. His eyes flicker to the rear mirror.

There’s a quite small but proportionally fierce thump.

“FUCK,” you say.

✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞ ✧༺༻∞

Later that day, in possession of a Killie and his newly diagnosed pneumonia and his antibiotics in a brown paper bag, you meaningfully load a child’s medicine syringe with chicken broth and then menace him with it, significantly; until he eats the chicken broth himself with a spoon, essentially at gunpoint.

Killie coughs. His cheekbones show the shape of his skull, and the shadows in their hollows are faintly stained lilac.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know you wanted to have sex.”

You look at him fondly. Killie has got to be the least sexy thing the world has ever seen at the best of times, and right now he is worse. “I can’t imagine what gets into me,” you say. “That’s not a sensible thing to want at all.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured VII

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Alexia tries to get her act together

For as long as she will ever live, Alexia will never forget her mother's face that day at Alba's door.

She will never forget the genuine horror on her mother's face even as she took control of the situation. She will never forget that night when Alba slammed her against the wall after the final of the Copa de la Reina. She will never forget the way you hid behind Jenni's legs after your ballet lesson.

It's all she thinks about even as she sits in the rocking chair with a sleeping Jaume in her arms.

"Ale?" Olga says sleepily," It's three in the morning. Come back to bed."

Alexia doesn't want to. She doesn't want to let Jaume go but she doesn't want to look at him either.

He was so perfect. His birth had been quick and easy unlike yours. Alexia had felt an instant connection to him, unlike when she suffered a bought of post-partum depression with you. He was so soft and so perfect and yet...

Alexia couldn't believe that she has pushed you away in favour of him.

She had a beautiful son and daughter. Two children, not one.

She thought having a sibling would be the best thing for you. She wanted to build a family with Olga. She never considered that she hadn't actually included you in that family.

"Alexia," Olga says, a bit more awake now," Come on. He's due for a feed soon. I'd like some sleep before that."

Mechanically, Alexia places her son back in his crib, wiping away some of the drool on his face as she allows Olga to lead her back to bed.

A sense of numbness follows her now and it's clear to everyone.

Word has spread amongst the team now about what has happened. They know the bare minimum, only that Alba took Bambi and that Jenni has dropped everything to fly across the world for you.

No one knows why, officially. It's clear that Mapi and Ingrid have informed a few team members. Paredes, in particular, cannot look Alexia in the eye anymore and some of the younger players are wary seeing that.

Her life is falling apart. She had no idea you were the linchpin holding it all together.

Olga lays next to her, head pillowed on Alexia's chest.

"You're so tense," She says," Relax. Everything's going to be fine."

Alexia scoffs. "Is it?"

Her question hangs in the air for several minutes. Neither of them speak. Neither of them move.

"Yes," Olga says eventually," You need to stay positive, Alexia. If not for yourself then for your daughter-"

"Your daughter?" Alexia echoes Olga's words perfectly," My daughter? Is she not ours?"

The silence is telling and Olga rolls over and away.

"Is she? Jaume is ours. y/n is yours."

Alexia sits up in bed, reaching over to flick a lamp on. This wasn't a conversation she could have in the dark.

"We have a son together. We're going to get married. In what world is Bambi just mine?!"

"In every world!" Olga sits up too. "She has always been yours, Alexia! I am just the woman her Mami is marrying! Nothing more, nothing less!"

"How can you say that?! We're making a family together! Bambi is included in that family!"

"Of course she is but when have I ever taken that role in her life?! You took her to football! You take her to ballet!"

"She stays home with you all day!" Alexia bites back, standing now until they're both yelling at each other over the bed. "You make her lunch! You keep her occupied!"

"And you do her baths and her bedtime routine! You do her morning routine too! God, Alexia, I am essentially her glorified babysitter! You have never once let me take over those things!"

"You didn't ask?! Olga, if you wanted to do that stuff just ask me!"

"And be rejected? No! You've never given any indication that I was even allowed to try!"

"Because I thought you didn't want to! Bambi has always been mine! Forgive me for not knowing how much to put on your plate. I was trying to make this transition easy!"

"An easy transition?! Alexia, I was pregnant! I was already thrown in the deep end! Adding a self-sufficient kid wouldn't have been much worse!"

They're both screaming at each other now and Jaume clearly hears the noise because he cries from down the hall.

Alexia takes a deep breath, eyes shutting briefly as she counts to ten to calm herself.

Olga goes to get Jaume, moving out the door.

"If we're going to get Bambi back," Alexia calls after her," Then we have to both want her!"

The forms about your ballet class lay on the kitchen table when Alexia gets up the next day. Things were frosty last night when Olga came back to bed with Jaume but they seemed to be looking up when Olga said that they would have a mature conversation about the Bambi situation when Alexia got home.

Alexia picks it up as she eats her breakfast, skimming through it. It's for an extra class on Thursday nights (five until seven) on top of your usual ones. Apparently, it's for those little kids that have real potential. As in, the potential to be great.

Alexia had been one of those kids but for football instead of ballet. She had excelled. She was one of the greatest in the world now all because her father saw the potential in her and signed her up for a team.

She had tried to do the same with you. She took you to the under-fives Barcelona team but it hadn't turned out how she want it to. The other children had left you in the dust. Alexia had hoped that it would be a one time thing, that the first session was a fluke.

You were already so different to her and even back then, she knew that when Jaume arrived things would be different.

She'd tried to get you into football so you would have something to bond over together, at least until Jaume was big enough to play with you.

But it wasn't meant to be and her Mama had insisted in signing you up for something else.

Originally, Alexia had planned on it being another team sport, desperate to have something at least similar to football that she could cling to.

Instead, her Mama had reminded her of last Christmas when the family went to go see the Nutcracker and how enamoured you had been.

Ale's Mama had pushed and pushed for ballet and Alexia was glad that she had.

The forms sat signed on the kitchen table as Alexia washed up her bowl and dialled a number on her phone.

"Hola, Mama," She says," It's about Bambi..."

It's after training that Alexia goes to see her Mama and sister. They meet up at Eli's house and all crowd around the kitchen table.

Jenni is there too and when Alexia asks who is looking after you, she's told that Mapi and Ingrid have taken you for ice cream.

"I don't like this," Alba mutters from where she's leaning against the wall. She's the only one not sat, arms crossed over her chest. "How do we know that she's not going to take Bambi home and neglect her again, huh?"

It's the hardest words Alexia has ever had to say but she pushes them out of her mouth. "I don't want you to give me Bambi back, not now at least."

"What do you mean, Alexia?" Her Mama asks.

"I...I have a lot of making up to do," Alexia admits," I broke her trust and that is not an easy thing to get back. If I want Bambi to come home then she has to want it to. I don't want her to be unhappy again."

"What are you saying?"

"Let me visit her, please. Let me earn back her trust, please."

Everyone knows Eli is in charge here. She is the head of the family and everyone defers to her on big decisions like this. This is a family matter. This is about her granddaughter's happiness and her daughter's peace of mind.

"Bambi is very fragile right now," Eli says quietly but the house is so silent everyone can hear her clearly," This is a serious matter, Alexia and if it was anyone else's daughter, child services will have already been called."

Alexia looks down at the table, the same table she would be scolded at when she was young.

"Your father would be ashamed of you." Eli's words are hard and biting and it's exactly what Alexia wants, even if it causes a sharp pain in her chest. "This is not how we raised you. That little girl is so beloved by everyone and what you have done...I love you, Ale, but it is unacceptable."

"I know, Mama. Please, let me make this right."

"Bambi coming home is her choice. It is not a when...it is an if. If I decide that you are doing more harm than good then there will be other actions we can take."

She looks at Jenni, who up until this point has been silent and Alexia's eyes dart to her too.

"Mama, what are you talking about?"

"Eli," Jenni says," She is trying. We don't need to-"

"Jenni still has adoption papers," Alba says from her corner of the room," All they're missing is your signature. Mama is saying that if this cannot be resolved and Bambi doesn't want to come home..."

She lets the idea hang in the air. She doesn't need to say it out loud. They all know what she means.

"It won't get that far," Jenni says, looking at Alexia for the first time since all of this became real," Bambi loves you."

Alexia pushes through the lump in her throat and the tears pricking in her eyes. "If I cannot make this better then she will have the best chance with you."

Jenni looks away first. "She has ballet on Saturday until one. We can do a visit then."

"Thank you."

Olga is sitting with Jaume when Alexia gets home. It's an almost perfect image. All it's missing is you at Olga's feet, playing with your trains.

She can imagine it, your trainsets spread all over the floor and your ballet bag left abandoned on a chair. You will smile when you see her and Alexia will litter your face with kisses before doing the same to Olga and Jaume.

It will be perfect, Alexia promises herself.

"Hey, little man," She coos to her son, hefting him up into her arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Jaume giggles at the affection, lips smacking together as his hand whips out to grab at Alexia's nose curiously. He's been a little fussy recently and extremely sensitive to changes in light but he seems a little happier now.

"That's my nose," Alexia says. She wiggles it. "Is it really funny? Huh? Is my nose funny?"

"Jaume seems to think so." Olga rises from the sofa and pecks Alexia's lips. "How was your mother?"

"Helpful."

"And Alba?"

"She was...Alba."

"And Jenni?"

"How did you-?"

"I am not blind or deaf, Ale. Your team gossips. Jenni has comes back to Spain for y/n."

"Amor-"

"I'm not threatened," Olga laughs," You broke up for a reason but even I know that a meeting of y/n would involve her. How was it? What did they say?"

Alexia manages a smile. "I can see her on Saturday, after ballet. There's a place where you can paint pottery nearby. I think I'll take her there."

"That's nice," Olga says.

"I..." Alexia's been floating in a happy bubble ever since she started to drive home. She doesn't want to ruin it but she has to know. "Did you have a think about what we talked about?"

Olga sighs. "I love Jaume," She says after several beats of quiet," Because he is mine, yes, but mostly because he is yours as well. And I love you so much."

Alexia doesn't like where this is going. "And Bambi?"

"I'm sorry, Ale, but I do not love y/n but...I think I could learn to because she is so much like you and I love you. I do not know y/n like I know you and Jaume. I want to though. I want her home with us so I can love her like I love Jaume. I am sorry if it is not what you want to hear but it is my truth and I hope that is enough."

Tears fall down Alexia's cheeks.

"It's enough. It's enough, amor."

Alexia spends all week waiting for Saturday. There are matches to prepare for and media commitments to do but you're all she can think about.

She wonders if she should bring you a new train to mark the occasion but the model train store has finally shut down and Alexia cannot get one for you in time.

Next time though, she promises herself that she'll got you a new train for your collection. Her palms are sweaty and she's nervous when she spots you and Jenni walking down the street hand-in-hand.

You're still in your ballet clothes but you've got one of Jennie's jackets on and it's dragging on the ground behind you because it's too big. Your hair is still done up in a bun and a few wisps fall down to frame your face.

"Bambi," Alexia says, suddenly breathless when you look up at her.

"Hola, Mami," You reply, ducking a little bit behind Jenni as you greet her.

"Your Mami and you are going to paint some pottery," Jenni says," And I'll be right here to pick you up when you're done."

"You won't be late?"

"Of course I won't be! You're my most favourite little girl in the whole wide world! I'd never be late to pick you up!"

You smile and giggle when Jenni peppers kisses all over your face before gently moving you towards Alexia.

"Hola, Mami," You say again.

Alexia smiles and takes your hand. "Hola, Bambi."

You look very nervous and your hand is unusually warm in Alexia's, though she puts that down to you coming straight from ballet.

There's a big wall where you can choose what to make. Alexia gets a mug and, unsurprisingly, you want the train. It's at the very top of the shelf and you can't reach and you don't want Mami to get upset at you for asking when you could easily get something that's closer to your height.

But Alexia notices.

She's making sure to pay a lot of attention to you now. To the way that your ballet pumps are wearing a bit at the soles and the way you play with the sleeves of Jenni's jacket.

"Do you want the train, Bambi?" She asks," Do you want me to pick you up so you can grab it? Can I touch you?"

You nervously nod and Alexia pretends to not notice the way that you don't breath until you're safely back on the ground.

The little shop is quaint and fairly quiet and Alexia lets you choose the table at the very back.

Very gently, she telegraphs her every move to you as she rolls up the sleeves of Jenni's jacket so you don't get paint on it.

You're both quiet as you paint.

Your little tongue is stuck out in concentration as you dip your paintbrush into the paint and move it to cover your train.

"You moved up in ballet," Alexia says eventually," How was that?"

"Was good," Is the response from your tiny voice," It is harder now but still fun." You blink a few times as the overhead light buzzes and you scratch at you neck. It's been a little itchy since you last saw Mami and you don't like.

You haven't told anyone because you're scared they're going to get angry at you. You're a big girl now. Big girl don't complain about something as silly as itchy skin.

"I'm very proud of you," Alexia says," And I'm glad that you're enjoying ballet so much."

Your watery little smile back makes Alexia nearly cry herself. "Really, Mami?"

"Of course. I am so proud of my Bambi. You make me proud everyday."

"Are you sure, Mami?"

"Yes. I am very proud of you."

You sniffle a little and duck your head back down to continue painting. It hurts to move your head though. It's all stiff and tight so you have to hold it at an odd angle so you don't cry - though you're not sure if it's because of the pain or the fact that Mami is acting like this is the Before.

The Mami from the Before never got angry when you asked silly questions. The Mama from the Now got angry at you once when you asked a silly questions when Jaume was crying.

You hope that this Mami won't be mad because you ask a silly question.

"Mami," You ask softly, the memory plaguing you ever since your Jenni returned to you," Jenni says she wanted me when I was little. Did you want me?"

Whatever bubble Alexia was in before pops and it's like icy cold water has been dumped on her.

"What do you mean, Bambi?"

"You and Miss Olga wanted Jaume," You say," And my Jenni says she wanted me. Did you want me too?"

"Bambi..." Alexia doesn't want to think about those first few months of having you. The post-partum depression had hit hard and Alexia could do little but deal with yours and hers basic needs.

She had loved you and resented you all at the same time and the guilt had weighed on her for months.

"I always want you."

You shake your head before wincing and returning your head back to its awkward resting position. "But did you want me then? When I was little like Baby Jaume and when I was in your belly?"

Alexia moves from her chair to kneel in front of you. Her hand comes up to cradle you. Either her hands are big or your face is tiny because they cover your entire cheek.

"I love you," Alexia says," You're my Bambi and I've always loved you."

"But did you want me?"

"Bambi..."

"Mami...Mami, I..."

Alexia doesn't want to lie but she also doesn't want to tell you either. There were moments, that first week she found out she was pregnant when she didn't want you. She hadn't been overjoyed at the prospective of you. She hadn't wanted her career to be derailed by something as silly as a child.

She doesn't want to tell you the truth because she knows that it will be damaging to you. You're not old enough to be told things like this. You're not mature enough to be told this kind of information and not have it linger and fester within you for years.

But Alexia's always valued honesty. She doesn't like lying but she had lied to you all your life. She doesn't want to lie again now even if it's about something like this. Adults cannot fault other adults for telling their truth but you are neither an adult nor can you understand what this means for you.

"I want you now," Alexia says instead," I want you when I go to bed every night. I want you when I wake up every morning. I want you when I score a goal and when I win trophies. I want you, Bambi."

You sniffle and scratch more insistently at your skin, your wrists this time.

"I miss you sometimes, Mami," You say," But coming back to your house is scary."

"Thank you for being honest, Bambi. You don't have to come home if you don't want to." Alexia forces down tears. "When I next see you, we should go and see Abuela and we'll explain things to you, okay?"

"Okay, Mami."

"Is your train done?"

Your train actually is done so Mami gives it and her mug to the lady who works there to finish off and you both walk outside.

"They should be done in a few days," Mami tells you," And then when I next see you, I'll give you your new train."

"Okay, Mami." Her hand is in yours and you think that is enough for today, pulling your hand away as Jenni turns the corner and lets you run to her.

"Hey," She laughs, swinging you up into her arms," How did it go? Was it fun?"

You don't answer, burying your face into Jenni's neck.

"I..." Alexia says," I think next time when should go to my Mama's...Conversations are...difficult sometimes."

Jenni nods. "I see," She says," Next week, maybe?"

The words are complete autopilot. Alexia hates what she's said the moment they're out of her mouth but they're completely out of habit and she doesn't even think before she speaks.

"We'll see," She says," I'll have to check my schedule." She clamps her mouth shut the moment she says them. "I mean- No, I meant-"

You look resigned, like you are so used to this that it barely effects you but Jenni looks furious. She hefts you up higher in her arms.

"Say goodbye to your Mami, Bambi."

"Bye, Mami."

"Hey...Wait, no, Jenni. I didn't mean-"

"Bambi needs to have a nap," Jenni says," She takes one right after ballet. We changed her schedule for painting today. I should get her home."

Alexia wilts, slouching her shoulders and curling in on herself. "Adios, Bambi. I love you!"

Jenni is already walking around and you don't offer your own I love you in return.

Jenni's steady steps feel nice as she walks you back to Tia Alba's. Your itchiness increases and you scratch more harshly at your neck.

"Ma-Jenni?"

"Yes, Bambi?"

"Can we have cuddles tonight?"

"Of course we can. I love cuddles with my favourite little girl. Are we having them on the sofa after bathtime or in bed together?"

Before Ma-Jenni came home, you slept with your Tia Alba. Now you sleep in the same bed as Ma-Jenni. She's big and strong and she holds you just right. She doesn't let you go the whole night. You go to sleep in her arms and you wake up in her arms.

"Bed cuddles please."

"I love bed cuddles."

You grin. "I love bed cuddles too!"

You scratch at your neck again and Jenni gently pulls your hand away. She frowns, swiping at your skin with her thumb a few times.

"You've got a bit of a rash there, Bambi," She says," We'll have to keep an eye on that."

[nikethestatue]

There are certain fallacies that are so ingrained into the fabric of this fandom that they are being treated as some kind of 'fact' or truth, and it drives me crazy!

Azriel wants a warrior! (because his first love Mor is a warrior)

Azriel met Mor when she was 17 and he was 19. Mor wasn't a warrior of any kind. She just came into her powers and was about to be married off to Eris.

Azriel fell for her as she was. Basically at first glance. He hardly knew anything about her. Her eventually becoming a warrior had absolutely no impact on his attraction to her. He never mentioned her even being a warrior (unlike Cassian, who admires that quality of hers very openly). In fact, Azriel, despite Mor being a warrior is openly protective of her and doesn't want her to be put in situations where she could be hurt. Never has he acknowledged any need for or attraction to anyone who fights with a sword.

Azriel only wants a mate because his brothers are mated

This has been mulled over to death, but just as a reminder: the ONLY couple that Azriel is aware of being mates is Feyre and Rhys.

During Solstice and his fight with Rhys, no one was aware that Nessian were mates, because it was literally happening as they were speaking. So this assumption that 'Azriel only wants a mate because his brothers are mated' is automatically false. He might have suspected that Nessian are mates, but it wasn't official.

What's more, as it stands now, Azriel is aware of 3 mated couples: Feysand. Rhys's parents. Elucien.

Only one of those couples is a happy mated couple. The other two were/are miserable.

Again, Azriel is angry that Elain was given to Lucien, whom she doesn't want and who is undeserving of her.

Azriel goes after unavailable women (because he doesn't want an actual relationship)

We only know of Azriel going after 2 women. Mor and Elain.

Mor, in fact, seemed very much available after he brought her back from Autumn. She was rejected by Eris, she was technically free. She was no longer pure, she was no longer promised to anyone, she was no longer engaged.

Mor was available. When it comes to her sexual preferences, Azriel had no idea, especially back then. (I will not address how sloppily and nonsensically SJM wrote the whole thing, because technically speaking, Mor literally JUST hit puberty. Like a month ago. She was not only a virgin, but also essentially an equivalent of a 12 year old girl. So for her to already know that she was into women, and into men, but with a deep preference for women, is highly doubtful. She had sex once, with Cassian. For her to suddenly realize that she was basically a lesbian and walk away from Az, knowing that she will definitely prefer a lesbian relationship, is...unlikely. But that's a different conversation.)

Elain is mated to an unwanted mate. Does that make her 'unavailable'? I don't know. it's been over a year since Elain was Made and in a year and a half, she displayed no interest in Lucien. This is exactly what Azriel acknowledges 'and she has no interest in him anyway'. Azriel waited for 1.5 years to take a step to pursue Elain. Only AFTER making sure that she isn't into Lucien.

Does that qualify him as 'going after unavailable women'?

Azirel doesn't want a mate. He doesn't want a warrior. He doesn't want an unavailable woman.

He wants Elain.

End of.

[wriothesleysgf]

wonderland— wriothesley.

★ : wriothesley is tired of your phone ringing. he's not going to let something like that stop him having fun.

cw : riding, teasing, exhibitionism, praise, m. m-sturb-tion, spit, fem reader.

"fucking angelic," wriothesley growled, punctuating the phrase with a slap to your ass. the sound echoed around the room, combining with the grunts and groans emanating from the two colliding bodies.

you continued to ride him as best as you could, though the pace that he was attempting to set was becoming too much; the man was essentially using you like a toy at this point. what had begun as you slowly grinding on his thigh whilst he finished up some paperwork had lead to his thick cock kissing your cervix as he gripped your hips tight enough that the indents of his blunt nails were visible.

"is my pretty girl struggling? why don't i take—" he began, but was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. he ignored it initially, letting it go to voicemail. the caller didn't leave a message, so certainly it couldn't be important, right?

wrong. after the third call, wriothesley grabbed your phone from his desk and checked the caller id. he turned the screen to face you, and before even a syllable could pass your lips he had hit the answer button. he put the phone to your ear, hinting for you to take it and answer the call.

"y- yes, monseiur neuvillette? is everything okay?" you spoke in the most professional voice that you could muster, given that wriothesley's cock was still nestled within you.

"stay quiet, princess. you don't want your boss knowing how you really spend your lunch breaks, do you?"

your raised eyebrows soon turned into a warning glare, as wriothesley picked you up from his lap and put you onto his desk. with your back flat against the hard wood, he took a moment to see exactly how messy he'd already made your sweet cunt. even just with one finger traced through your sensitive folds, and you were forced to bite your bottom lip.

"is everything okay? are you feeling unwell?" the iudex queried.

you had to use every last ounce of strength to maintain your composure. "i'm perfectly fine, it's just a little cold, that's all."

wriothesley's smirk gave you the urge to slap it off of his face. he knew precisely how to drive you crazy, and it worried you. whilst trying to maintain the conversation with your boss, he continued to tease you.

he bent down to place a kiss to your swollen clit, and the short whine that fell from your lips was almost certainly audible on the other end of this call. if he did notice, however, he didn't mention it. nor did he mention any noises you made from the subsequent kitten licks to the sensitive bud.

wriothesley was enjoying this a little too much. he decided to go all out, lining his cock up with your puffy cunt despite the wide eyes from you— it wasn't a plea not to do this, no, but rather a look of shock that he'd go so far. in fact, it was turning you on even more. the risk of being caught was exhilarating, and had your slick dripping onto the desk below you.

"oh, baby," wriothesley cooes as he slowly pushes into you. "always take me so well, 's like your cunt was made for me," he punctates the sentence by collecting a fat glob of saliva in his mouth and spitting directly onto your clit. the combination of such a lewd action with his praise filled words never failed to make you weak.

with a few more harsh thrusts into you, your phone lay forgotten about on the desk. your whimpers became more prominent, and from the look in your eyes you were bordering on overstimulation.

wriothesley removed his left glove with his teeth, throwing it aside before putting two fingers to your lips. he didn't gag you, instead slowly allowing you to suck on his digits as a way to stay quieter— how considerate. you swirled your tongue around his digits, your hands both on his wrist. soft pleas came out distorted, though from the way that your cunt intensely pulsed, wriothesley knew you were close to cumming.

"think you can stay quiet, princess?" he chuckles. you nodded sheepishly, and he removes his fingers from your mouth. "good girl."

however, that trademark smirk start to appear again.

instead of going easy on you, he immediately targets your pretty clit. a couple of taps followed by a few strokes had you writhing around. wriothesley tutted a few times, unimpressed. "he can probably hear you thrashing around on my desk, darling," he reminds you, nodding towards your phone. you assumed he'd hung up, though the quieted calls of your name made it clear that neuvillette was still on the line.

wriothesley moved you around a little, pushing your legs up into somewhat of a mating press. his goal was to keep you still enough that you couldn't shift out of his reach as your highs approached. your ankles were at his shoulders, his body pressed against your thighs. the hard, powerful thrusts continued, and you were a blubbering mess. the man took a moment to slap your tits, always finding the way that your flesh jiggled incredibly attractive. with a pinch of your stiff nipple for good measure, he returned to his attack on your swollen clit.

"go on, baby," wriothesley cooed. "you know you wanna cum for me, yeah? let me hear it, princess,"

there were tears in your eyes from the overstimulation. with his thick cock consistently grazing over all the spots that made your back arch and the gentle touches to your cunt, it didn't take too long before your nails dragged down wriothesley's back and your thighs to begin to shake. you babbled something incoherent again and before you knew it, your orgasm came crashing down on you. it triggered the man's own high, and he shot his load deep inside of you.

he leaned over you, allowing you both to be close to one another as you caught your breath. wriothesley mumbled gentle praises into your ear and carressed your cheek, wanting you to feel as safe and loved as ever.

what the two of you were unaware of, was the absolute bliss being experienced on the other end of the line too. if one were to listen closely, they would hear the esteemed iudex's heavy pants.

[thecheshirerat]

On TAZ-

Wow that sounds like I’m about to summarize some sort of discourse but I promise I’m not. I guess I’ll say that I really like this show and I will keep listening even if my worst fears come to pass, so keep that in mind!

For reference, I started listening near the end of Amnesty.

I’ve noticed, with the past few arcs- really since Ethersea- the narratives have just… not been fulfilling their promises, so to speak. They’ve been placing a lot of guns that don’t go off. What I mean by that is, the characters are great. Excellent, really. Lady Godwin? HELL YES. Emerich Dreadway? Fuck yeah! And so on! And the settings and premises have been epic- the goofiness and also horrifying nature of Engrave, the mad and thrilling world of Steeplechase- these things are COOL AS FUCK.

and then the actual narratives keep flopping?

And honestly, I notice it most in the endings, because you can really tell when an ending doesn’t land. You feel the sense of disappointment. But with vs. Dracula, for example, I could kinda see leading up to it that the ending couldn’t really BE anything special, because they lowkey didn’t set themselves up for it.

They spent the campaign fucking around in Engrave, finding clues and solving problems and not really experiencing any particularly meaningful character arcs or growth or, idk, forming relationships? So there wasn’t much to pay off, I’m not gonna lie!

Of course it doesn’t feel quite as dissatisfying when you’re in the thick of it, because they’re funny and the stuff is cool and- oh hey! Lady Godwin’s been turned into a werehorse against her will?? that’s got some real potential for a LOT of allegories and exploration of some fun character development! And then it’s kinda played as a joke. And then they do that again and again.

And they actually said that that was a move they made intentionally, in the TTAZZ. I’m not quoting them perfectly here, this is from memory, but I do remember them mentioning that they wanted lighthearted comedy without the burden of real life story stuff. And I get that, honestly, but… it’s not the choice I would’ve made. I do think you can keep a lighthearted tone while also, idk, forming relationships and wholesomely engaging with some amount of emotion. And sometimes going way too deep is funny as a tone shift!

But I digress. One thing that’s also popped out to me is the almost complete lack of any kind of romantic storyline or even references. This becomes obvious if you’re in a fandom because everyone is always dying to ship SOMEONE, and you can tell when people are really getting desperate. I don’t blame them for not wanting to roleplay romance with their family, and I do think stories lacking romance are COOL and SHOULD BE ENCOURAGED!

However if you can’t find ANYBODY to ship together… that may mean you just don’t have character bonds. The growing popularity of the PC polycule is interesting to me; I wonder if it’s partially because

a) none of the pcs have significant relationships outside of their party and

b) even within the party, there doesn’t seem to be much chemistry between any given pair of characters…? I hope I’m making my point well here- the PCs all seem equally close and have more or less the same relationship to all of their compatriots with little distinction, meaning, essentially, no shipping fodder that doesn’t involve just all of ‘em.

Either way, it makes me wonder if I can blame the “Graduation has too many NPCs!” critique. They really stopped giving the parties tag-along main NPCs after graduation, with the exception of maybe.. Urchin? Kodira? Shlabethany? Poppy? and even they get relatively little “screen” time. Steeplechase has great NPCs, I love them to death, but none of the PCs seem to ever have one on one conversations with NPCs or each other that do not explicitly focus on the plot. And I think that’s part of why the characters feel so underdeveloped despite having spent a lot of time with them- because in this character-driven genre, we get very little insight into their feelings or motivations or even their rudimentary backstories.

I started watching Fantasy High recently and it made me realize a couple things about TAZ.

1) Recently, TAZ has sooo few core NPCs, and it’s weird that the characters aren’t doing more one-on-one purely character based scenes. And that makes it really tough to develop them.

2) TAZ is- and I should have realized this before- one of many good dnd podcasts. They’re probably looking for a niche they can master.

And it sounds like they’re trying to get back to that old “Here there be Gerblins!” energy. They’ve referenced it so many times in recent TTAZZes- they wanted to be job-focused, allowing story stuff to happen organically, so they tried a more open world vibe with Ethersea. They wanted to be less afraid to kill stuff, so they tried playing criminals (and were still afraid to kill stuff). They wanted to be silly and light on character, as they tackled with taz vs dracula. Now they’re trying to bring in the silly cartoon vibe with Abnimals. I think they’re trying to make that family-friendly, funny and goofy show their niche. Something other actual plays can’t be better at them at.

And honestly it kinda makes me sad, that they keep trying to go back to Balance while ignoring everything they learned during it. Because I loved Dust. Because I loved Amnesty. Because I loved Ethersea. I loved these past arcs! But they keep doing their brilliant characters dirty for some reason!!! And i don’t know why!!!!

You know that meme about people who ask questions in movies and then the person responds “Have you ever been to a movie before? You watch them and the information is revealed.” There have been so many times in TAZ recently where information has Not been revealed and if they keep doing it the audience will stop bothering to suspend their disbelief, because the trust just isn’t there.

What is Montrose’s deal? What on earth was Carmine Denton’s whole thing? Tell me more about Zoox’s feelings, about Devo’s past, about Amber’s future. Show me how Lady Godwin feels about the body horror that is her life- like, seriously! WHY DID WE HAVE TO COMPLETELY DISMISS THE OPPORTUNITY TO DISCUSS GENERATIONAL TRAUMA IN MUTT’S LIFE FOR A JOKE??

Do you remember in Steeplechase where the boys were getting medical attention or something- i don’t remember, but they were all in one room and only talking about The Plot. And Poppy literally banged on the door (speaking for both Justin and me, tbh) and was like “does anyone want to share any feeeeelings??” and they were like NOPE! and they moved on!!

like. cmon. you can’t just put a character like montrose out there and then leave them severely underdeveloped to the point that what would be interesting in proper context, with audience insight, becomes confusing and chaotic.

I just wish they would take their stories as seriously as we do.

It feels to me like they don’t believe in themselves, and it makes me sad. Maybe they didn’t get the response they wanted from Ethersea and so they’ve been trying to pivot, hoping to recapture whatever it was that earned them a loyal audience.

Again, I love them. They’re so funny and I’ll keep listening until the day they stop making this show, and when it happens I’ll cry.

But i KNOW they have more in them. Remember the “we’ll grow gills” monologue from Justin in the Prologues? Remember Travis’s SOLID acting with Devo? Or his awesome choice to give Lyndon/Beef a clearly delineated work/irl identity? His excellent narration and prose? Remember when Montrose described being lonely?! Remember all those moments where Shit Got Real and you cared??? The nanofather said some dope shit! dracula and victor and sweater dracula had such a wild dynamic! Clint’s acting in Dust 2- I can’t remember the characters name right now- was ASTOUNDING, I genuinely didn’t know he had that in him and it blew me away!

I’m not referencing Balance on purpose, both because the fandom is way to hung up on it and because I want to prove that you don’t even have to look at Balance, or even Post-Balance arcs, to see this kind of good cool stuff!

GAAAAAAAGHHHH!!! I want them to have fun. But also. We’re starving out here.

[julietcpulet]

i still keep seeing people use "maomao can't say no to jinshi" as an excuse to justify why jinshi is a predator and maomao a victim and they use his outrageous actions in LN 8 + maomao's response to his confession in LN 7 (his words were essentially a command when spoken out loud)

and it boggles me because????? at this point maomao KNOWS who jinshi is??? she knows he is kind and he would never order her death and would never trap her in a cage so why are these people still under some delusion that maomao THINKS she has no choice but to accept jinshi's words when literally the very start of the story maomao has done nothing but disrespect and refuse to listen to him. why now of all times do people bring up his princely commands when it comes to his pursuit for maomao?

is maomao lying to herself and these people just happen to fall for it as well? she can't say no because of their time period, but she's done worse things than saying "no" to a prince. why bring up the issue now? i just get so shell shocked with these people that i find it hard to respond.

I get the frustration. Basically, I believe this point always comes back to a general need to make one person the oppressor and the other the oppressed. Apothecary Diaries isn’t that simple of a narrative, however. Both characters are shown to have struggles, difficulties and things they must overcome. Neither is completely in control or has the power at any given time. The point being that power is often in the eye of the beholder. While Jinshi may have the power in the eyes of society, it’s clear that in his eyes Maomao is often in control and he would do almost anything to help and make her life better if possible.

As such these moments you mention are worth expanding on to show how there's much more context to them that adds to the importance of the moments themselves and why the overall power imbalance argument falls flat.

The LN 7 moment - Regarding what happens with Jinshi supposedly using a commanding tone when saying he would make Maomao his wife, both he and her start off this conversation overtired from dealing with everything surrounding the supposed poisoning of the shrine maiden. They’re both at their limit so for once actually manage to have a somewhat sincere conversation due to not having their usual inhibitions since they’re fatigued. He gets exasperated at her evading him again so makes a comment about Luomen which riles her up considering she’s just disagreed with him which doesn’t happen often.

Maomao’s ears started ringing. Jinshi was tired; she knew that. He had nowhere to vent his frustrations, and he had a great many frustrations to vent, and on top of that he was suffering from lack of sleep. Any other time, he might have taken more care. Might have known not to say what he said. Yet said it he had. - Today she’d had that rarest of things, a difference of opinion with her father. Jinshi had seized on it. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was tired. Maomao hadn’t been sleeping so well herself. And at last she exploded.

This is where Maomao shows a rare moment of confronting Jinshi with her own feelings and provokes him first. As usual though she’s still off base acting like he needs to come out and clearly state what he wants like it’s not clear considering she does already know.

“You’re forever telling me I need to use my words, Master Jinshi, but are you in any position to criticize? Everything you say to me, everything you do, it’s like it’s calculated to save you from ever having to actually say what you mean! - Well, in my opinion, he could have avoided all that heartbreak if he’d told the woman how he felt. Clearly, unequivocally, so that she knew where they stood. It was the least he could have done!”

But aside that point, Maomao is the one who initiated here and Jinshi is in no way forceful in saying what he does, he’s simply responding to her insinuation that he’s not honest about what he wants.

He got up off the bed and stared down at Maomao. Shit. Now I’ve done it. She’d given him a piece of her mind, and he was about to give her one back. “So I should be clear, should I? Unequivocal? I should say what I mean? If I did, would you actually listen to me? Is that what you’re telling me? I’m going to hold you to that! Right this minute. I’ll say it all. Don’t plug your ears—listen to me!”

Even Maomao knows she started it by initiating this conversation, by pushing him when they both needed sleep. She admits at the beginning that Jinshi’s personality doesn’t lend towards him goading her for a fight usually or being the one to say rude things. It’s her prodding that brings him to say this out in the open. So the imbalance here is on Jinshi’s side. Where he had been working towards Maomao becoming his wife without saying so to her directly. Both of them knowing but neither saying, it’s actually Maomao who gets him to state it directly and then acts as if he’s at fault when in reality she’s the one who caused the conversation to escalate. She’s the one telling a Prince to define their relationship and he’s the one who says he will protect her by waiting until he can find a way to assuage her fears.

Finally he managed, “Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!” - “Be that as it may, you’re right that with things as they stand, making you my wife could only harm you. Neither of us wants that.” - “For you, I will remove every obstacle that keeps us apart. One day. Just know that.” - “I won’t let what you fear come to pass. I swear it.”

Him saying he wants to make her his wife is a way of phrasing, not meant to be that he will literally “make” her but that he intends for her to become his wife in the future, which is clear by his following words about the timing not being right because it would cause harm. In the end Maomao is the more confrontational of the two and Jinshi is the one who reveals his heart is still focused on her and what’s best for her in the end even if it means patiently waiting.

The LN 8 branding - The moment where Jinshi brands himself had as much to do with Jinshi and his being removed from succession as it did with his relationship with Maomao. It’s a heated scene with several players involved but all can see that Maomao was actually pivotal in finally moving Jinshi to take action where before he had become somewhat passive in removing himself as the successor to the throne. As pointed out by Gyokuyou:

Gyokuyou, however, only gave her a pitying look and shook her head. “Maomao, I think you’re half responsible for this.”

Maomao is what finally gave Jinshi the catalyst and in many ways the bravery to want to finally declare in no uncertain terms that he does not want to be Emperor. By falling in love with her and then having her express a fear of becoming Gyokuyou’s enemy, this led to Jinshi finding a way to both calm her fears and separate himself from the throne. Maomao had felt she could not deny Gyokuyou when she was being prsssured into returning as her lady-in-waiting so Jinshi taking it upon himself to brand himself as basically her slave and declare he is not her enemy while at the same time wanting Maomao as his wife is a line in the sand.

Jinshi looked at her. “Empress, I know you were hoping Maomao could be your serving woman forever, but perhaps I could ask you to relinquish that dream. Now that I have this mark, I can’t let just anyone see my body.” - “My wife will have to be a woman I can trust implicitly.”

He’s putting himself between Maomao and Gyokuyou, in this case using his power to protect her and keep her from being in the difficult position of refusing a friend and the current Empress, both precarious situations he knows she does not want to be in. Ironically this whole scene also shows us how Maomao can feel towards royalty when they push forward their true personalities. Jinshi came into that moment willing to endure even more than a direct punch to the face but it’s Maomao who feels fear and out of control watching the Emperor be enraged towards him.

There was a clatter so loud it shook the large table, and Maomao felt her hair stand on end. Some meat buns rolled off a plate. The source of the shaking? The Emperor, who had pounded the table with his fist. His expression, usually genial, if noncommittal, was a mask of anger. Please don’t!

People’s comments about Maomao being dragged into the situation because Jinshi puts her under his arm near the end of the scene and she expresses her discomfort are merely misunderstanding Maomao’s supreme discomfort at interacting with royalty at all. Again, it’s not her aversion to Jinshi personally, it’s status that scares her. But this whole moment is about Jinshi starting the path to eliminating that obstacle between them entirely. As we can see when he burns himself, Maomao could care less then about who is in the room and their dispirate level of status.

There was only one thing for Maomao to do. The extremely high temperature of the burn prevented much bleeding, but it was still red and swollen. She doused her handkerchief in cold water and pressed it against Jinshi’s side. She looked around the room, searching desperately for oil and beeswax, and anything that could treat a burn. Angry that she had no tools to work with, she took an expensive-looking bowl off the shelf and started crushing the oil and beeswax together. She didn’t care if the bowl broke or the spoon shattered. She didn’t have time to care.

She’s solely focused on Jinshi, almost radiating a panic to treat him. So any arguments that she was begging to leave or was unable to are untrue if you understand that Maomao’s actions betray her true feelings of the situation which is her subconscious concern for Jinshi. To drive the point home, when they’re left alone, Jinshi is frustrated that Maomao will not even then acknowledge part of why he did what he did, yet he allows her to press him still, despite him being the one in immense pain with a severe burn.

“Shut up and let me treat you. Sir.” Jinshi stuck out his lower lip. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, you know.” “Well, that’s not my problem; I’m an apothecary. Let me do my work.” On this point, she wouldn’t budge. It had been Jinshi’s show earlier, but she wasn’t going to let him push her around now.

And Maomao proves she has no trouble bossing him around when she flicks him on the forehead and tells him to shut up, both things she wouldn’t do if she truly cared about status. She’s the one who comes to the conclusion he likely thought this through and then acted, willing to accept what came of it. Also saying that like her he would fight back against his circumstances, showing that her lack of fighting back against Jinshi proves she doesn’t feel the need to because this situation with him isn’t something she is truly opposed to despite her inconsistent protesting.

I sure as hell wouldn’t have put up with it. Neither, it seemed, would Jinshi. Just like Maomao, he would fight back, try to escape. But unlike Maomao, he would do more than simply let his emotions run away with him, let his feelings dictate his actions. He was a person who thought things through, and at the end of all his thinking, he had come to a most Jinshi-like conclusion—and had acted on it.

Power Imbalance - The status issue gets brought up with Maomao and Jinshi most frequently due to a modern view of how people think relationships work. Girlboss mentality and wanting men and women to share the same roles has led to the idea that if a man has any kind of power or status more than a woman he must therefore be abusing it to hurt her. There’s no room for the thought that a male character could be written with proper characteristics of a future husband that uses his strength, power and protective instincts to do what is best for those in his care, namely the woman he loves.

For Jinshi and Maomao, the power imbalance issue is non-existent between them as far as they’re concerned. Although it may exist in the world of the novel and historically in the context they live in, Maomao and Jinshi have broken this dynamic repeatedly since they met and both are comfortable with it. As I’ve shown with both moments above and there are even more in the novels, often Maomao is the one who ends up in “control” so to speak because Jinshi, although having the outward societal power, hands Maomao control in the relationship because he values and respects her opinion. He doesn’t diminish what she says, who she is or what she wants. In fact he spends much time and effort trying to work towards goals that will honor her.

People who claim that there is a power imbalance have not seen that although Jinshi is earnestly pursuing Maomao and trying to achieve the best way for them to be together, if that doesn’t happen he is also willing to let her go instead of subjecting her to the palace life. On the opposite side Maomao has been given opportunities to leave Jinshi and instead has chosen to take whatever comes and make the best of the situation. She also understands that Jinshi has no interest in the status he has so the idea he would use it against her to manipulate her is not within his personality.

Maomao was fully aware that Jinshi saw his own status as nothing more than a burden.

Thinking that she’s merely being dragged along isn’t understanding her as a strong-willed person who wouldn’t allow anyone else to take her anywhere unless she wanted to be there. And Jinshi has proven himself worthy of her trust so much so that he’s one of the only people she’s able to break decorum with, be quirky around and speak her mind to. Their relationship is not about imbalance but about two people who use their individual strengths and talents to complement the other and find the perfect balance.

In the end some people just don’t want to look past the surface level of a story and read the nuance to see the beauty beneath. This causes a lot of misunderstandings in the narrative and of the characters as a whole. Apothecary Diaries has characters that are realistic, flawed and take time to grow through making mistakes and learning. That’s what makes it interesting but it means you can’t instantly be offended about one scene until you’ve looked and seen if that part might have more complexity to it. Overall though my best advice is if these haters are too bothersome, just pass on by their posts and enjoy the lovely Jinmao content where people lift them up. After all, that’s the best way to promote what’s best about the story if we enjoy it is to also promote others who are sharing it. Hope this answer helps you and thanks again for the question! 💕

[thebroccolination]

Hi Key, your post is the second I've seen that hinted at Joss but without further explanation. He generally has a positive public perception and I only know him from 3WBF (which I liked), so I'm curious where this shift in perception is coming from recently.

Would you mind making a post or directing me to where I can learn more about his general...situation.

I apologize if this is intrusive since I know you don't like to engage in Fandom Drama and like to keep your space positive, but I don't have XTwitter and his Tumblr tag is usually quite dead.

Thank you in advance!

Why I Don't Fuck with Joss: An Extremely Academic Essay of Words and Screenshots

Hi Anon!

I normally would have DM'd you an answer to this, but since you sent the ask anonymously and you were very kind in how you asked, I didn't want to ignore you.

However, two things:

I do generally make it a policy to keep my negative personal thoughts about certain actors to private conversations or, y'know, Discord servers, just to keep it off public platforms where toxicity is already rampant. In this case, though, I think the situation is interesting enough to comment on. (Plus, y'know, I'm amazed he was even managing a comeback when he's been known to Be Like This for years.)

I didn't get a lot of primary sources for this post because quite frankly I don't like Joss and I don't want to look at his face any more than I already have. However, friends who've been following this more closely than I have were able to verify that there are sources out there for everything I'm going to mention. Just, y'know, don't use me or this post as a source. This isn't one of my Citations Included Posts, this is just a Why I Don't Fuck with This Guy Post.

So, for context, I made this post last month, and someone made a more explicitly worded reblog here that's honestly better if you're going in without any context.

Essentially, Joss has had a dodgy reputation for years, but I think because fan turnover is high in interfandom and he's never been in a BL series before, most interfans just know Joss as A Tall Man Who Likes Sportsball.

But when I got into Thai BL back in 2020, Joss was one of the first actors I heard of as ~Problematique~ so I looked into him, and what I learned made me go, "Ew," so I just keenly ignored him from then on. (General gross stuff like the Domundi boob-grabbing prank and some assorted Dudebro comments about women. I don't remember specifics anymore because he was barely on my radar, but a friend at the time who'd been in fandom longer basically told me, "Yeah, that's Joss, lol.")

Interestingly, before JossGawin became a thing, most interfans were rooting for JossLuke, but I think given how vocally left-leaning Luke has proven to be, I wouldn't be surprised if Luke saw the prospect of tying his public reputation to Joss and went, "lol no goddamn thank you."

Gawin, on the other hand, seems to be down for whatever GMMTV wants him to do, so he probably just sees Joss as a colleague he makes out with (acting is a weird job). He went to high school in western Pennsylvania, he has white relatives on his dad's side, and he hangs out with the Gym Dudes of GMMTV, so I'm sure he's completely desensitized and is one of those guys who thinks, "Nah," but doesn't go so far as to say, "Not cool, dude." The Gawin Caskey Method seems to be: throw a basketball, make out with a dude on camera, go home and eat an edible. Dismount.

Unfortunately, even though Gawin's never really made any political statements or taken any major stand for the queer community, he's gained goodwill that some people are now calling into question because of Joss.

Anyway, apparently Joss used to follow Andrew Tate on Twitter until Tate was suspended, so it seems a lot of people assumed Joss unfollowed Tate, but yeah, between the sexist comments, Boobgate, and admiring Joe Rogan, that was enough for me to physically recoil from the screen when I saw the teaser for MGB.

Okay NOW, everything from this point onward is new stuff I've learned over the past month that made me go, "Oh. So he's worse now."

Joss has apparently had that Joe Rogan quote pinned to his Twitter account since 2020, but people just shrugged it off because they like his man stomach or something? (I don't find him attractive, but even if I did, I truly don't understand how he made it this far. It feels like he's been pretty firmly canceled every year since I got here, honestly.)

I also didn't like him weight-shaming Gawin. There's some older clip of him calling Gawin fat, and I know in Asia it's more common to comment on other people's bodies and weight, but I also recently found out that he got Gawin a meat cake for his birthday because idk actual cake is for pussies? (Sorry, Anon, I was trying to aim for an objective tone but I abandoned it because I reeeally don't like this man.) And apparently a lot of JG fanservice is just Joss and Gawin at the gym so Joss can teach Gawin self-control or something? I've had their tag blocked from the beginning, so you'll have to look into that if you're curious.

Ah, and at some point in the last few months, Joss was apparently asked what his "type" is and he said something like "white, skinny English-speaking Europeans/Americans"(?) Which apparently made Asian women go, "Hey, c'mere real quick: good. Bye."

I also thought it was a huge red flag that Joss has been in the industry for years, and his domestic fanbase is still quite small. Others have pointed out that very few fan interactions with him are in Thai, and he's clearly courting a western audience both in his individual engagement and by partnering with a mixed American actor. When he did the LGBTQ+ panel last summer, apparently the reaction from Thai commenters was, "lmao why Joss?" not, "Oh yes, of course, Joss!"

So it seems like GMMTV has been trying to do a rebrand for Joss using Gawin and interfans more generally since Joss speaks English and interfans don't generally seek out the resources to do research. Remember last year when GMMTV announced that Y-MIND script competition? It was originally domestic only, but after Thai fans overwhelmingly went, "The contract terms here are wildly exploitative, so fuck off," GMMTV rereleased the promotional material in English and went, "HEY INTERFANS WANNA SEND US STUFF :D?"

That told me they really don't think especially highly of us.

On December 15th, someone pointed out that Joss didn't just follow Trump on Twitter, he also followed a ton of extreme alt-right accounts on Instagram. Not normal political figures, either. Obscure figures like Pearl, Candace Owens, that guy who was saying Your Body My Choice, and Andrew Tate's right-hand man, and more! Some of his fans tried to point out that he follows progressive Thai politicians, but as far as the American side, he only followed alt-right conservative accounts with zero liberal accounts.

Though, in fairness, someone did point out that Joss also follows famous progressive Democratic figures [checks notes] comedian Chris Rock and basketball player Stephen Curry.

So. Whoohoo for that, amirite?

Since Joss's fans weren't having much success defending him on their own, they threw some @'s at his account to get him to make some kind of statement that would somehow explain away why he was following a deep, deep alt-right fanatic like Pearl. (Spoiler: He didn't.)

The JossGawin International fan club even released the above statement to address the issue, then received such alarmingly vitriolic backlash from the JossGawin fandom for "betraying" Joss that the fanclub decided to deactivate entirely. (I have no idea if they reactivated or not, since I stopped keeping up with this whole debacle shortly afterward.)

One Thai(?) JossGawin fan actually seems to have used ChatGPT to create an English comment to chastise the fanclub for their lack of support in Joss's dire times:

Amusingly, rather than address his fans' concerns or unfollow any of the accounts causing the chaos, Joss instead just started deleting any comment on his Instagram that called on him to comment.

Five days later, he unfollowed 137 accounts. No idea how many of those were alt-right extremists and how many were just extra padding to make it look like a general cleanse, but it was at least fifty last I heard, and the fact that 1) it took him nearly a week to do anything but delete the comments calling him out, and 2) his first tweet after this whole mess was a quote-retweet of GMMTV's message welcoming Barcode into the company saying, "lol this kid looks like if me and Gawin had a baby" just goes to show how unthreatened he feels.

After all, Joss has been this way for years, and his upcoming series with Gawin is probably going to do numbers regardless. He's successfully rebuilt his stagnant career off the support of interfans, and he knows he'll be fine.

Even Foei has a show with Tay! We're all good here. \:D/

So yeah! That's why I don't fuck with Joss. \:D/

This'll be the last I say on Joss publicly.

I just figured I'd make one all-encompassing post so I can link back to this in case anyone asks why I'm not supporting any of Gawin's projects with Joss. It's a shame because I do really like Gawin, but this isn't even a hard choice for me to make.

Oh, and while we're on the subject: the director of MGB, Ark, is also Not a Good Dude by all accounts I've heard from multiple people who've interacted with him privately. I mean, he sure is queer, but he's also said to be a misogynist with some white-people-worshipping tendencies. He doesn't have the highest opinion of BL fandom in general, either, especially when you look back on his whole direction of IT'S NOT A BL Shadow. Just, y'know, another reminder that queer people aren't Virtuous or Evil by nature. We're a big ole clusterfuck of nuance, so you don't have to support MGB for Ark just because he's a queer man. I have zero proof that I can share publicly, so you don't have to take my word for it. Just, y'know, in case you were on the fence, I've heard he's a dick.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go write absolutely filthy gay porn to purify myself from writing Joss's name so many times.

[aizenify]

[💌] AIZEN SŌSUKE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS

[NOTE]: Aizen has a variety of character arcs, so this won't be limited to any specific one. I do plan to create a more detailed version covering the different Aizen arcs in the future, but you're welcome to request any specific one in the meantime.

[ ☕️ ] My ask box is open! If you have a specific prompt you'd like me to write about—whether it's relationships, everyday activities, or anything else—don't hesitate to ask! I encourage you to suggest whatever your heart desires.

TW: none!

This will be split into 2 sections

What does Aizen look for?

— If you were Aizen’s partner, you’d definitely be someone very special to him. Looks wouldn’t be as important; rather, it would be your personality and ideologies that matter most.

— For instance, Aizen values someone who enjoys challenges and is willing to take risks. He’s all for that, but, of course, you’d also need to be cautious at times.

— Aizen greatly appreciates a deep understanding of the world. I like to think that he and his partner would engage in philosophical conversations daily. He’d want someone to explore the world with, to venture into new places, and try new experiences. Aizen definitely strikes me as the type to enjoy travel.

— He would want someone who challenges him. Given who Aizen is, he wouldn’t be interested in a partner who is passive or follows the crowd. He wants someone who will challenge his ideas, his ethics, and his worldview. He seeks someone who is on the same intellectual level, someone equal to him, or perhaps even better. This is something he has always longed for.

— I believe Aizen is sapiosexual, meaning he is attracted to people with high intelligence, and also likely demisexual or somewhere on the aromantic/asexual spectrum. He deeply values intelligence and personal space. For him, the sexual aspects of a relationship would not be his focus; instead, he values the fundamentals. His understanding of "love" is more complex than that of most people.

— Building on what I mentioned about his view on love, you would also need to respect his needs and be patient. Trust is essential here. Aizen doesn’t easily trust anyone, so the idea of him loving someone would make him feel extremely vulnerable. While he views trust as a form of reliance, his approach to trust in relationships is different. His way of showing trust and love will likely be expressed through his actions. Perhaps after Muken, Aizen would become more open and free. Muken Aizen, after all, is much more carefree and relaxed.

I’ll keep this section as is since it’s getting long. I’ll leave the rest for another day!

What will Aizen be like with his S/O?

— Aizen would likely ask for your thoughts on his plans or if you have any alternative suggestions for execution. He enjoys the sound of his own voice, so don’t be surprised if he rambles on about his strategies or just shares his thoughts from time to time.

— He will shower his partner with gifts and words of affirmation. Aizen is incredibly attentive and will take note of even the smallest details about what you like, even if you haven’t explicitly told him.

— Quality time will be very important to him as well. Despite his preference for solitude, having someone by his side will be a refreshing change. After being alone for so long, it’s natural to crave companionship. Aizen will likely plan a variety of activities for you both to enjoy together, whether it’s shopping, cooking, or simply taking a walk. Every moment with you will be meaningful.

— Physical touch is something Aizen might find unfamiliar at first. He’s used to being cautious with those around him, especially with anyone who gets too close. However, I think he would offer hugs from time to time as a way to show that he’s there for you and cares for you. If he knows you enjoy physical affection, he’ll make an effort to meet that need, even if it takes him a while to become fully comfortable with it!

— Expect a lot of playful bantering. Aizen seems like He enjoys a bit of lighthearted back-and-forth.

— Aizen will take you out on extravagant dates or to fancy venues. He is undoubtedly classy and chivalrous, he will treat you with the utmost respect and make sure you always get the best of everything!

That’s all for now! Thank you for reading!!! This is my first published hc 🧡🤎☕️

[bennetsbonnet]

If you were to ask me to select a single passage which demonstrates the respective pride and prejudice of the hero and heroine from the novel of the same name, I would select the following exchange between Mr Darcy and Elizabeth from Chapter 11.

There are many conversations between Elizabeth and Darcy during her stay at Netherfield due to Jane's illness that greatly inform us about their respective characters. The following discussion clearly demonstrates to us how oblivious Darcy is that his ego is the size of Jupiter, but evidence of Elizabeth's obliviousness to her own flaws and her hypocrisy is also on display at this moment, which follows shortly after Caroline Bingley (rather ridiculously) insists that Mr Darcy possesses no flaws which could be laughed at:

'Mr Darcy is not to be laughed at!' cried Elizabeth. 'That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh.' 'Miss Bingley,' said he, 'has given me more credit than can be. The wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.' 'Certainly,' replied Elizabeth—'there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.' 'Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.' 'Such as vanity and pride.' 'Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation.' Elizabeth turned away to hide a smile.

Though Darcy seemingly admits (despite Caroline's insistence to the contrary) that it is impossible for anyone to lack any sort of personality traits which others could joke about, he immediately undoes that hint of self-awareness by bragging about his 'superiority of mind.' Admitting that even he may be flawed might appear to be a moment of vulnerability at first glance, but in fact Darcy is essentially telling us that while he might perhaps be a bit prideful... it's to be understood because he is such a magnificent, incredible and awe-inspiring individual who is (in his mind) aware that everyone else is flawed, and thus can easily avoid making those same mistakes because he is smart enough to recognise them in others. Which is hilarious in itself... because if he was indeed so good at recognising such flaws, he would have observed them in himself long ago!

You can clearly see his prideful belief of his superior mind; you can also see his prejudice against the rest of society, as he believes that only he can understand their follies and is thus determined not to be like the rest of them.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth is similarly so close to connecting the dots but alas also falls short of recognising her own hypocritical behaviour and the double-standards she holds those she likes to, compared to those she dislikes. Despite her hope that she will never be the sort of person who ridicules others, especially those that are inherently good, she proceeds to judge Mr Darcy and demonstrates both her prejudice against him and her pride in her belief that she is an excellent judge of character.

Darcy is wrong for believing that his 'superiority of mind' protects him from becoming too prideful... but Elizabeth is equally wrong about his true character, and though her harsh judgment of him is understandable given his abhorrent behaviour at the Meryton assembly, she hardly knows him well enough to laugh at his assertion. Yet, she 'turned away to hide a smile,' clearly (and rightly) tickled at Darcy's failure to recognise his own pridefulness, yet without the ability to observe it in herself... for she is just as guilty of misjudging others.

Over the course of this passage, you can see the pride that both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy possess in their own abilities to assess the shortcomings of others, without being able to identify those failings within themselves, and also their tendency to slip into prejudice against the rest of the world and especially those that they do not like, as they tend to hold the rest of society to different standards than those they set for themselves or people they like.

It's a particularly pertinent moment which highlights how they both possessed flaws which needed to be addressed before they could become the best versions of themselves and lead a happy life together.

I love it when Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen contains characters that are both prideful and prejudiced.