#Definitely no wise sage

[lionblaze03-2]

personally I don’t hate gray wing nearly as much as everyone else because he’s a great example of having rose colored glasses just because ‘well, he’s family’, and not realizing until far too late that that essentially ruined his life and made him amount to almost nothing. Because clear sky is his brother, he wants to assume the best of him. Surely, my brother would never. Surely he didn’t mean it like that. Surely he’ll do better next time. He’s my brother. He COULDN’T be a bad guy. So he keeps giving him chances, over and over and over again, until it’s completely destroyed him. Until he can no longer breathe, his lungs full of toxic smoke that clear sky abandoned him to breathe in, until he is under his claws, nearly killed under the moonlight, until his people are battered again and again, until borders become inevitable. But he never, ever realizes, because- it’s his brother. Surely, his brother will do better next time. Surely, he didn’t mean it. Surely, he will change.

And believing that is the death of him.

[female-malice]

We DEFINITELY need to talk more about the intersection between misogyny and ageism.

Society celebrates talent in young women while diminishing and erasing older women who have mastered their craft. A precocious young female talent is often used as a tool to bludgeon older women with.

This same dynamic is not seen among men. The talents of young men never eclipse the legacies of older men. Men's legacies are sacred and respected in this society.

Older men who've achieved great things in their past are treated like wise sages.

But older women who've achieved great things are treated like undesirable witches.

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Big Hands (Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend, Spencer, are getting ready for a night out, when your insecurities start to get the best of you.

Word Count: 1531 -- it's just a lil guy

Warnings: Body insecurities, maybe a little bit of a big-girl-soapbox

A/N: I definitely wrote this very quickly this afternoon because I literally just felt like it. This is just a short lil one for the big gals who just want someone to notice them.

Anyway hope you enjoy! Thank you all who have commented/reblogged/liked my last fic!!

-

Your jeans hugged your curvy hips as you tugged them up to your belly button, covering the bottom, larger part of your stomach. You were tall, for a woman, but not taller than Spencer. He was, what, 6’1”? You stood around 5’9”, so he still towered over you, still had to look down at you when he spoke, still had to crane his neck to whisper in your ear. 

You were wearing a flowy, sage green blouse. Why were clothes so hard to find for a larger girl? It was all cold-shoulders and obnoxious patterns. You just wanted something that flattered your body type and made you feel sexy. Apparently that was just a ridiculous request. This blouse was cute, but modest, with a ruched, fluted bunching of the fabric in the middle. The collar was low-cut to accent your breasts, but the sleeves were long, which was annoying. You were going dancing tonight with your boyfriend and his coworkers. You didn’t want to show off all of your body, by any means, but you wanted to look hot. Who could blame you? And it was also going to get hot, temperature-wise. Long sleeves just didn’t feel like the most pragmatic choice. 

Sometimes you just gave up and went with the best option. And this blouse, that made you feel like you were going to a casual church event, not to a bar, was, unfortunately, the best option. 

You inhaled sharply and shrugged your shoulders as you looked in the full-length mirror hooked on the back of the closet door. Your hair looked really cute - the two biggest pieces on either side in the front were braided and dangled in front of you, effectively bringing your hair out of your eyes but also provided something to give your hair a little pizzazz. Your makeup looked great - a simple, subtle smokey eye and glossy lips. Your black boots looked good, peeking out from your wide-legged jeans, which hugged your hips and, honestly, made your butt look really good. 

It was just this stupid shirt. And maybe you were getting too much in your head about it. But you were transfixed on it, hating the way the sleeves bunched up a little, how the bottom half flowed beneath the ruched fabric, effectively covering your stomach, meeting your jeans and the top of your thighs. The color was too muted for a going-out top - you wished you could wear something more exciting. 

You sometimes wished you looked like Emily or JJ, or had the self-confidence to rock loud looks like Penelope did. But then you remembered that you were who you were for a reason. You looked like you simply because that was what you looked like. And there was no point in wishing you looked like someone else. 

Plus, Spencer was really into your body. He was nearly always staring at your breasts when you were in private, sometimes to the point where you had to snap your fingers in front of his eyes to garner his attention. 

It was flattering. You didn’t mind it if your boyfriend objectified you a little bit. He was respectful about it. 

“Y/N, are you about ready?” Spencer walked into your bedroom as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes met Spencer’s and you saw his neutral expression turn into a full-fledged grin, biting his tongue and all. “You look really nice,” he said, and you shook your head. 

“I look like a chaperone at a middle school dance,” you frowned, tugging at the fabric of your blouse in some illogical attempt to make it look different. 

“What?” Spencer stood behind you in the mirror. His chin basically met the top of your head, like too puzzle pieces. One hand rested on your hip, while the other slowly brushed your hair to one side so he could press a kiss to your neck. “I think you look great,” he added. 

You immediately felt tingly and your knees wobbled at the action. “But I’m not dressing for you,” you said, your voice instinctively dropping as Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck. You were having trouble concentrating on what you were trying to say. “I’m dressing for me, and I want to look cute. I can’t believe you’re even going tonight. You don’t dance, Spencer,” you pointed out, your self-control somehow beating out your desire for Spencer in the moment. You broke away from him and turned around to face him. 

“You do look cute, Y/N. I don’t understand what the issue is?” Spencer’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at you. “Also, I’m going out tonight because you want to. And I’m trying to keep an open mind. I might enjoy it.” 

You were proud of him. When you started dating about six months ago, he would have simply politely declined an invitation to a night out. And while you didn’t love going out every night, or even every weekend, for that matter, you did enjoy a night out occasionally. 

Regardless, he still didn’t quite understand what you were feeling about that damn shirt. “The issue,” you began, heaving a sigh, “is that I’m insecure about my body. Like any woman. You don’t get it, because you’re a man, and you literally have nothing to be insecure about.”

You knew the words were incorrect the moment you said them, but something kept you from backpedaling. You watched as Spencer shook his head, letting a small laugh escape him. “You could not be further from the truth,” Spencer pointed out, and you knew he was right. Men had plenty to be insecure about, and it was, in some ways, even more difficult for men to express those feelings. 

“Well, I think you’re perfect,” You let a small, playful smile creep onto your face, and Spencer rolled his eyes as you used his own tactic from earlier. He stepped towards you and his hands found your waist, contouring to match your curves. He knew them so well now, he could probably draw a map of your body with his eyes closed. 

“I appreciate that,” Spencer said, his voice a little softer as your eyes met his. His head dipped down, and you thought, certainly, that he was going to kiss you, but instead, his lips stopped just barely by your ears. You could feel his breath on your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine as he spoke. “You might be insecure, Y/N, but I am, too. You’re just human.” 

“What are you insecure about?” You found yourself asking, pulling your head back to look at him properly. Now you were curious. 

“My hands, mostly,” Spencer removed his hands from your waist, holding them palm-up, as if to present them to you for the first time. 

“What’s wrong with your hands?” You asked, placing your palms atop his. 

“They’re really big,” Spencer said timidly, and, admittedly, they were. But just by comparison. Your hands fit into his with plenty of extra space. You used your index fingers to trace his palms. 

“They’re not too big,” you told him, and Spencer just smiled down at you, shaking his head, like he was just humoring you. “I love your hands,” you continued. “I love that you can put your palm over an entire half of my face,” you said, guiding his palm to your cheek and grinning when his skin touched yours. Spencer’s thumb brushed your cheekbone. 

“And I love your body,” Spencer replied, and you just pursed your lips and shook your head. “No, Y/N, listen to me.” 

You let out a frustrated little exhale through your nose and let him continue. 

“I love the way you look. But I wouldn’t care if you were any bigger or any smaller. Because I love you. I’m attracted to you, to your mind, to your sense of compassion, and to your body. I love the way your hips fill out your jeans, how your stomach looks in your yoga pants,” he said. “I love the way you wiggle your toes when we’re watching something funny on TV, how you do a little shimmy in your seat when you’re eating something you really enjoy,” he explained, mimicking the movement. You looped your arms around his neck. “But mostly, I’m in love with your personality. How you challenge me, how you seem to bring out the best version of myself.”

You let out a wistful sigh. If this were a Jane Austen novel, you would have swooned. But instead, you used your grip around his neck to bring his face down to yours and kiss him. It was slow at first, then a little more intense, and when you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his. 

“You ready to go now?” Spencer asked, and when your eyes opened, you saw that he was smiling down at you. 

You shook your head, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. “Not yet,” you said, your hands sliding down his arms until your palms met his. You tugged him in the direction of your bed. “I want to show you how much I love these big hands.” 

[petermorwood]

Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' husband Gojo - You and I

Part 1

Tags- Gojo x fem reader, angst, self depreciation/suicidal stuff, miscarriage centered chapter

Synopsis- a look at both of their POVs, the aftermath a month later.

Satoru is devastated but so are you but worse...

22nd October, 2016...

22nd October of 2016 was when it happened. The Legal Separation between you and Satoru Gojo.

Fortunately or not but the whole fiasco never went outside the borders of The Gojo Estate, despite it involving a few 'third parties'.

Luckily, the servants of the house were on a week off or else by now you and Satoru would have become the new gossip of the town no doubt.

Mr Ijichi, an assistant director at the Jujutsu High and a very close and trusted accomplice of your husband... or ex husband, you can't decide.

He is probably the only person who knows about it, not in detail of course since Satoru is very specific on who he wants to be close with but yes, you suspect Mr Ijichi is a bit aware of what went down because he was the one driving the car on that day.

You also suspected at first that maybe Ms Shoko is also in light of the events because she is definitely someone who gets her information one way or the other and the fact Satoru might have... no! He has infact told Shoko about all of it.

When Satoru introduced you to the World of Jujutsu Society, Ms Shoko was the first he got you to meet with and since you have had good relationship with her.

Since your legal separation happened, Shoko and Ijichi have been a mediator, set up by Gojo, for communication since, you know it and so does everybody who knows Gojo Satoru, he's too prideful to go back wagging his tail where he's not needed. Or so he thinks.

Satoru thinks because of his work schedules, he is not able to spend time with you as your husband and not able give you the life you hoped for which definitely affected your mental health (as predicted by his six eyes) and thus you decided for a divorce.

But the new information that he got on that day from you made him realize maybe he was indeed wrong thinking that you are perhaps different from other women who only fell for the looks but mostly for the money and the status of the Gojo family in general.

He never had plans to marry in the Jujutsu Society or The human World (haha as if!) be it arranged or love. He did not care. He had plans to become the wise Sage or a Monk of wisdom, a teacher/mentor like in video games. But all of it changed when he met you, a simple average human.

You were the one who taught Satoru so much. You were the one made him realize that even the strongest sorcerer has a soft heart that has the capability of falling in love.

But what made him solidify his love, making him realize that yes he has fallen in love and he is glad it is you was when you (unknowing about his past with the incident with Riko and Toji) made him realize the fact that all humans are not same.

This was the last and final straw that made the fall for you really bad and sick. He wanted to marry you. But he never said it out loud because of the repercussions you would have to go through and that is why he protested as well when you brought up the topic of marriage.

But none of it matters

None of it

Not anymore

He is done

All humans are the same.

Greed

Lust

Money

Fame

Power

All humans are indeed the same...

Satoru has no interest in any sort of relationships anymore. Everything feels sour and bitter. All he knows now is his role. His role as the strongest sorcerer, a responsible mentor, as the Head of his Clan, Face of the Jujutsu Society altogether. These are his priorities.

Gojo would very much prefer a permanent sort of freedom from you now knowing your true face.

'Ugh awful, so disgusting. A whore? Really? Is that all you thought of yourself y/n when you voluntarily got physical with me before marriage?', he said to himself in his head.

The only reason Gojo sent Separation papers instead of divorce was because it would startle both of yours and his families. The society isn't kind to divorced women and that too the ex wife of the six eyes sorcerer. Oh what a wonderful way to make him vulnerable for the curses and curse users!

He can say whatever he want against you but somewhere, inside that beautiful big and kind heart of his, he wants to talk to you, talk things out, talk about your feelings and wants to listen. But his mind refuses to let down his walls, ever gain!

Days following the 22nd October, you mostly stayed locked up in your room while Mr Ijichi packed all of your husband's clothing and accessories.

Mr Ijichi isn't stupid, he knew it must be really hard for you that is why he tried his best to enter, collect the things and exit as quietly as he could.

'A whore? Why did you even say that you bitch. You really don't deserve ANYTHING in this world!', your days began with endless self loathing.

5th December, 2016

A lot happened in the month following the incident.

Most of your days were spent in self loathing because after your miscarriage at just 3 months, the doctor had declared that you're (uterus) not strong enough to carry a child.

These words are something a woman is most scared to ever hear in her life. And you were one of the unfortunates.

You had stopped taking your post miscarriage medications. You're mental health got worse as well due to continuous thoughts on how you acted up on impulses and ruined the only good thing you had. Days followed you couldn't even get the strength to get up from the bed every morning. Fading appetite lead to refusing food which further resulted to visible sunken cheeks.

The house staff didn't knew anything that took place during their week off and they had noticed changes around the household. From your behavior to the absence of the Head of the house. They were also worried for your health and didn't knew what to do.

The head of staff, Mr Kawaguchi, decided to make a call to the Master of the house since it is normal for him to be absent from the house due to his work.

Kawaguchi- Good morning Satoru sama. This is Kawaguchi from the house.

Gojo (a little annoyed)- I'm busy, call me later.

Kawaguchi- Sir actually there's a grave problem at the house.

Gojo (mockingly)- what? Did someone die or something? This better be important-

Kawaguchi- sir its Y/n sama. Y/n sama is not in good health.

Gojo (worried)- w- what?! What're you stupids doing? What happened to y/n? Is she okay? What did the doctors say?

Kawaguchi- uh about that sir... y/n sama didn't let us into her room and actually we had to... (nervously looks back at the the other staff, everyone nods)

Gojo- huh?

Kawaguchi- sir, we had to break into y/n sama's room. We have called the doctors and they'll-

Gojo- break into the room!? What is hap- Nevermind, I'm sending someone. You lot stay there and look after y/n till the docs arrive!

Kawaguchi- y- yes sir!

Gojo was now left worried at what the hell did he just hear on the call. 'What are you upto now y/n'. Is this some trick to bring him back out of pity and pretend nothing happened? That you, a month ago, didn't just randomly demand for a Divorce.

He was really annoyed and even if he wanted to go to the house he couldn't due to being out abroad for missions. He has been busy with overseas missions mostly after the separation.

He decided to send Shoko for a look and to inform him 'EVERY SINGLE DETAIL', verbatim.

Shoko was sitting at the morgue, smoking, when she received a call from Gojo.

'Ha? Gojo? At this hour?', she wondered.

"Yea?", Shoko said with her usual nonchalant voice.

"I need a favor"

Gojo explained her the situation to which she agreed without hesitant, knowing what has been going on between you two and now this.

When she arrived at the Gojo Estate, she was welcomed by the worried faces of the staff that guided her to your room.

She started observing every detail. She saw the entrance door, broken. The inside of the master bedroom, dim, even with long sliding doors facing the beautiful and bright gardens. There were half eaten bowls of food. A trolley with clothes overflowing.

Shoko turned to looked at you and felt her heart wrench a little at the sight of you. She was horrified and worried. She is usually a very calm and relaxed person but you, you really made her loose her calm.

She knows you and has seen you in your good days. In light yellow summer dress beside Gojo, all smiles to now? Like this. Dark circles umder eyes and slight sunken cheeks, chipped lips and several medications.... wait what medications?

There were already a doctor present in the room who declared that its just dehydration and that it'll be okay with a few medicines.

The servants thanked the doctor and ordered the medicines.

Meanwhile, Shoko was already in a shock. The medicines piled up beside you on the bed and the bedside table were... post miscarriage pills. She enquired the whole situation from the staff.

All while, the two women staff got you up in the bed and gave you water.

Eyes half open, you recognised what was happening. You passed out of dehydration and couldn't hear the knocks of the servants outside for breakfast. They were worried and tried the other doors, through the garden, but they were locked. So they broke the entrance and found still in the bed with pills surrounding you. They all got worried and one called the doctor and the head called Gojo.

Shoko noticed you were up and ordered the ladies to open the curtains and windows and leave her for a while. Afterall she's got some questioning to do in Gojo's behalf.

She extended her hand to hold your left hand. It seemed cold to touch. "Hello y/n. Remember me?"

You struggled to open your eyes and look.

"Don't worry i won't ask you how you're doing", she joked.

"But i will ask about the medications y/n. Do not lie. I'm a doctor too", Shoko knew now is not the time but she also knew that if you were pregnant then why didn't you tell Gojo because he obviously didn't know.

Your ears started ringing. And eyes welled up. You were reminded of it again. You wanted to just lay back down and bury yourself in the warmth of the blankets.

But the cat was out of the bag. Shoko is a doctor. She knows medicines. You cannot lie. You cannot hide. You have to be strong, you have to show her that everything is okay and Satoru needn't be worried, not like as if he is anyway.

"Please.", you mumbled, she had leaned in and caressed your knuckles. "Shoko, do not let anyone know of this, i beg of you."

"Shhh", she shushed you, "Don't say that. I won't. I promise"

She continued, "... but what about Satoru? You can't hide it from him. The child was his as much as it was yours-"

You cut her in, "Shoko i wanted to tell him! I wanted him and only HIM to be the first to get the news of the...", you struggled but continued, "...of the pregnancy. I got to know myself in the 2nd month and he was coming back home just next month, it was all perfectly going... until it wasn't".

Shoko was visibly upset. She didn't knew what to say. All she was aware of was the things Gojo told her...

He went home with gifts and souvenirs for you, you gave him divorce papers, he tried convince you not to, you weren't ready to listen, you said some hurtful things, he realised his place and agreed for separation over divorce.

Looking at you she can tell you would breakdown any moment.

And she was right.

You did.

You broke down in tears.

Hyperventilating you mumbled, "Shoko they said i can't have children! Can you believe that! I can't have kids! And I'm so stupid i brought out a f-fucking Divorce paper when Satoru came home."

"He was so angry with me i could feel it even if he wasn't! I'm stuck Shoko! I-i just - just want to go hide under a rock or maybe i should just kill mys-"

Shoko pulled you in for a hug. "Ah! Thats enough. That's enough. Shush now. Its okay."

"I won't tell Satoru, don't worry"

Series masterlist

Tags:

@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0pe @chayunwoo @Enaaneaen @sweet-almonds @sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @aesonsgirl @direwolf-5 @fairyyxsp @puroganggang @altyx @dianagracesworld @hermitkerm @leonesimp @minnerra @whitelittlebunny @letharue

[strayrockette]

His Eyes on Me: Part 1

a/n: I MADE MY FIRST COLLAGE AGHHHHH!!

Summary: His eyes are on her but she'd reluctant to believe it

Masterlist/Part Two-Part Three

“You’ve got yourself an admirer,” Lacey’s voice giggled beside me, the teasing lilt impossible to ignore. I hummed in response, pulling my straw into my mouth and taking a long sip of my milkshake. My voice was muffled as I spoke around the straw, “Ish pro’ly fa you.” I hadn’t bothered to look the first three times she mentioned it, figuring she was just trying to get a rise out of me. Lacey was sitting right next to me, all blonde curls and striking blue eyes that turned heads wherever she went. She was the kind of gorgeous that guys couldn’t look away from, and I was… well, the pretty girl next door by comparison.

I didn’t have Lacey’s sharp cheekbones or Natalie’s cold, model-like grace. My features were softer—plump cheeks, plump lips, and wide eyes that always made me look a little younger than I was. My body followed suit: wide hips, thick thighs, and a waist that dipped but was hidden behind layers of comfortable clothes. I wasn’t insecure by any means; I just knew my role in our trio. Lacey was the bombshell, Natalie the dark-haired siren, and I was somewhere in between—sweet, approachable, the one who got attention when no one else was around.

Lacey nudged me with a pout, her voice dipping into a whine as she tried to coax me into looking. “Come on, just take a peek out the window. You’ve been ignoring him all night.”

I hissed at her, “No, stop it. It’s definitely not for me.” My eyes stayed glued to my milkshake, focusing on the way the whipped cream was starting to melt into the chocolate swirl.

Natalie, who had been pretending not to listen, chimed in with a giggle. “Oh honey, he’s definitely eyeing you.” She waggled her eyebrows, her sharp hazel eyes glinting with mischief.

I rolled my eyes and stuck my tongue out at her, trying to brush off the attention. “You guys are just desperate to pair me up with anyone you can find.”

Lacey, never one to give up, poked my side playfully, wiggling her finger into the soft spot she knew would make me squeal. I jerked away from her, my shoulder colliding with the glass window and the counter digging into my ribs. “You promised you wouldn’t bring out the tickle monster,” I glared at her, pointing an accusing finger.

She crossed her eyes and puckered her lips in a comically exaggerated expression, her voice lowering into a mock-serious tone. “Yes, I did, but only on a specific condition that you had to follow.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, mimicking the look of a wise old sage. Silence fell around us, and we all stared at her ridiculous expression, trying to keep straight faces. But I couldn’t hold it in for long—I burst out laughing just as she took a sharp breath and choked on air. Her face twisted in surprise as she coughed, eyes watering. “I breathed down the wrong hole,” she wheezed.

Our laughter rang through the small diner, drowning out the clinking of silverware and the low murmur of conversations. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue through the windows as the evening crowd trickled in. It was supposed to be a girls’ night, just the three of us catching up, but I was starting to suspect my friends had other plans. Everywhere we went, they nudged me and whispered about some guy staring at me. I loved them for it—loved that they wanted me to find someone—but I knew the truth. Most of the time, the guys who feigned interest in me were just using me to get closer to my friends.

Natalie leaned in, snapping her fingers in front of my face to get my attention. “Just give him a peek and decide for yourself who he’s starin’ at, sweet pea.”

I glanced at her, seeing the encouragement in her hazel eyes, and then shifted to Lacey, who was already wiggling her fingers again, threatening another tickle attack. “No more tickle monster,” I warned, pointing sternly.

Lacey slumped in mock defeat. “Fine, fine. No more tickle monster, but you have to look at him.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of their anticipation. “Fine,” I grumbled, turning toward the window. “But I seriously dou—”

The words caught in my throat, disappearing in an instant. My breath hitched, and I felt my heart stutter as my eyes found him across the street. He was leaning against his motorcycle, completely at ease, like he owned the whole damn world and knew it. The sunset bathed him in a warm, golden light, illuminating every detail: his tousled blonde hair, rugged and windswept, and those eyes—striking blue, clear and sharp, staring directly at me.

There was no mistaking it; he was staring right at me. Not a casual glance or a lazy look, but an intense, unwavering gaze that made my skin heat and my stomach twist. His eyes were piercing, almost electric in their intensity, a shade of blue so vivid it was impossible not to get lost in. There was a quiet intensity to the way he watched me, like he was seeing something no one else did, and it was both unnerving and thrilling.

He was effortlessly handsome, the kind of guy who looked like he belonged on the cover of a gritty magazine. His blonde hair was slightly messy, perfectly imperfect, and he wore a black t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, showing off strong, defined arms and the hint of a tattoo peeking out just above his rolled-up sleeve. His jeans were worn and faded, and he wore rings on his fingers—little details that spoke of a man who lived his life on his own terms.

“That’s Benny Cross,” Natalie whispered conspiratorially, as if saying his name too loud would draw him in. “He’s got a bit of a reputation, if you know what I mean.”

Benny Cross. The name was familiar, whispered around town like a secret everyone knew but no one dared to speak too loudly. He was the kind of guy your parents warned you about—the rough-around-the-edges rebel who lived on his own terms. Not much was known about how he grew up, but the rumors were enough. His family was rough, the kind you kept your distance from if you knew what was good for you. Benny had carved out his own path, far removed from whatever mess his family was involved in. He was trouble, wrapped in leather and bad decisions, and yet, there was something about the way he stood there, so self-assured and unbothered, that pulled me in.

His expression was unreadable, He didn’t look away. He didn’t even blink. It was like he was studying me, taking in every detail, every reaction, and it made me feel more seen than I ever had before. Lacey’s teasing grin, Natalie’s knowing smirk—they were lost to me now. All I could think about was the boy on the bike, his piercing blue eyes, and the sudden, reckless thrill that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t staring at Lacey or Natalie after all.

“He’s probably starin’ at his reflection or somethin’,” the excuse fell from my lips, weak and lame even as I said it. I turned back toward the counter, pulling my milkshake close and letting my thick hair fall over my left shoulder, effectively hiding my face from his view. It wasn’t like I was hiding—I just didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I noticed. At least that’s what I told myself.

Natalie giggled beside me, her voice dripping with amusement. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be hidin’,” she pointed out, her eyes dancing with mischief.

I scoffed, hoping to deflect the heat rising to my cheeks. “I’m just tryin’ to enjoy this delicious milkshake in peace,” I mumbled, swirling the empty cup absentmindedly as if there was still something left to savor.

Lacey snorted, reaching out and snatching the cup from my hands. “Yeah, a milkshake that’s been empty for the last 5 minutes,” she teased, tipping it upside down for emphasis. A few melted drops hit the table, proving her point.

I glanced between them, trying to keep my expression neutral even though my heart was doing somersaults. Both of them were grinning at me like they were in on some secret I wasn’t. “He’s into you,” they sang in unison, their voices lilting with a teasing harmony that made me want to crawl under the table.

My face flushed, and I reached over, playfully slapping Lacey’s arm. “No, he’s not. I promise he isn’t,” I insisted, though my voice wavered with the insecurity I tried so hard to hide.

“Oh yeah?” Lacey’s tone held a challenge, her eyes narrowing with a spark of mischief. Natalie leaned in closer, her grin widening. “You wanna bet?”

I stared at them incredulously, my mouth dropping open. “Stop that!” I muttered, trying to hide how flustered I was, but they were relentless.

“Triple dog dare ya to go talk to him,” they said in perfect sync, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the dare.

“You aren’t even twins! Stop it,” I whisper-shouted, my voice tinged with annoyance. “He isn’t into me. He could be starin’ at anybody.”

“Then go ask him,” Natalie chimed in, her grin turning wicked. She folded her arms, watching me like a hawk waiting for its prey to make a move.

I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. “No. I’m not goin’ up to him. That’s insane.”

Lacey sighed dramatically, leaning back against the booth with a knowing look. “He’s been following us for a while, sweet pea, and his eyes are ON you. He’s definitely into you.”

I blinked, my stomach flipping at her words. “What?” I asked, my voice shaky. The thought of Benny following us sent a shiver down my spine, though I wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else entirely.

Natalie nodded, giggling as she recalled the day’s events. “When we came out of the picture show and were crossin’ the street, he was there at the stop sign. He was eyeing you like a kid at a candy store.”

I blinked again, my blush deepening as the pieces started to fit together. “He’s been following us?” My voice rose with a mix of surprise and something I couldn’t quite place.

Lacey shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing with the motion. “Not like that. But we’ve crossed paths with him more than a few times today. And he’s been parked outside the diner for an hour just starin’ at yah.”

“You guys don’t think that’s WEIRD?” I questioned, my disbelief spilling over. I couldn’t fathom why a guy like Benny Cross, with his effortless bad-boy charm and those piercing blue eyes, would spend his time watching me. It didn’t make sense.

They looked at each other, their eyes sparkling with shared amusement before they burst into giggles. Lacey leaned in closer, her shoulder bumping against mine. “Sweetie, some men know what they want, and when they do, they go for it,” she said softly, her voice gentle but firm, as if trying to impart some great wisdom I had yet to learn.

I glanced back toward the window, my eyes drawn to Benny like a magnet. He hadn’t moved, still leaning against his bike with that same steady gaze locked on me, unbothered by the world around him. There was a quiet intensity about him, something that made him stand out even when he was still. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t putting on a show. He was just… watching, like he was waiting for something. “He could be starin' at anybody...”

“Then go ask him,” Natalie chimed in, her grin turning wicked, her posture straightening as if she were gearing up for a show. She folded her arms over her chest, watching me like a hawk, her expression smug and self-satisfied, as if she were certain I wouldn’t take the dare. “Come on, sweet pea, prove us wrong.”

Their challenge hung in the air, heavy and charged, pulling at the part of me that hated being underestimated. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, my skin prickling under their scrutiny. They’d never steered me wrong before, but this felt different. My heart thudded in my chest, a frantic drumbeat that echoed their taunts. I wasn’t the type to back down easily, but the idea of walking up to Benny Cross, of meeting those piercing blue eyes up close, sent a rush of anxiety through me.

I looked between my two best friends; their expectant faces lit up with anticipation. Lacey’s blue eyes sparkled with excitement, her blonde curls bouncing as she nodded encouragingly. Natalie, with her dark, sleek hair and knowing smirk, leaned closer, her gaze unyielding, practically daring me to make a move.

Their confidence only made my doubts louder. I didn’t want to admit it, but a part of me was scared. Scared that if I crossed that street, I’d find out Benny was just like all the others—interested until someone better came along. But another part, the stubborn, reckless part, was itching to prove them wrong, to show them that I wasn’t afraid of a guy like Benny Cross.

I bit my lip, my thoughts swirling as I weighed my options. I could stay here, tucked safely behind the glass, hidden in the comfort of my friends’ teasing and the familiar din of the diner. Or I could take a chance, step outside and face whatever waited on the other side of those piercing blue eyes.

Natalie leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, full of excitement. “Just go. Ask him why he’s staring. Worst case, you come back, and we buy you another milkshake.”

I glanced back at Benny, still leaning against his bike with that same unreadable expression. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t looked away, and something in his unwavering attention made my heart skip a beat. There was a quiet confidence in the way he stood, like he was waiting for me to make the first move, and that realization sent a jolt of determination through me.

“Fine,” I said suddenly, my voice firmer than I expected. Lacey and Natalie exchanged surprised looks, their eyebrows shooting up as if they hadn’t actually believed I’d go through with it. “But you guys are so wrong,” I added, shaking my head.

Lacey squealed in delight, shimming out of the way to let me pass. I tugged at the hem of my skirt, feeling the fabric flutter around my thighs, and quickly ran a hand through my hair, trying to muster up some semblance of confidence. My boots scuffed against the floor as I made my way to the door, each step echoing the rapid beat of my heart.

Taglist: @storiesfromafan

[garfieldblunt]

Normal Javier Escuella HC because I said so

Let’s start with some cute ones :)

He’s got an ugly little giggle - he goes "hehhakbfeakjf" then blushes and twirls his hair

I feel like he’s really really clumsy

A lot of people say he’s a romantic, but the way he’s so awkward at the bar in chapter two tells me other wise

“Yes… uh he is a um…. *pussy* cat..????” Man has no idea what a pussy cat is and it’s so cute and silly

He’s definitely a nervous kisser when there’s people around - in private he is so lovey and romantic

Something about him tells me he has separation anxiety

Javier is probably a little ditzy on his own time

I just love imagining the “Big Mexican Badass who could kill you with one look” also picks flowers in his own time

He takes such good care of Boaz I just know it

Javier definitely forages for food, one of his little missions is for you to get him more Oleander Sage, He knows his foliage

Javier might be fierce and fiery, but I just know he's such a gentle lover

CAN YOU IMAGINE THIS MAN AS A GIRL DAD!?!?!?!???

Now for the not cute ones :(

I feel like we all agree that Javier got rid of his guitar once the band broke up

HOWEVER I believe that it was an accident - either he left it at camp while in a rush leaving for Mexico

OR it fell off the horse while he rode away and it broke while it crashed, forcing Javier to leave it behind

He cut his hair because it was the one thing that kept him close to everyone else in the gang

Someone pointed this out to me, and I hate them for life (jk jk) - but I totally agree that Javier had no idea that the gang was splitting up until it actually happened

I know he spend 3/11 or so years just crying and probably blaming himself

I think Javier kept tabs on John - He says "I HOPE YOU AND YOUR WIFE AND CHILDREN ROT IN HELL"

Either I think too much or somehow Javier knew about John's Daughter who died from being sick

I genuinely think that Javier thought he and John were still close enough to actually be brothers still

These make me sad :(

[smolvenger]

Greetings bestie 💖🫡

Requesting a Professor Hiddles story (you can choose what subject he's teaching) where he already has this friendly type of dynamic w/ Reader and she's nervous about finals week and he goes "Tell you what, if you ace all your exams I'll take you out to dinner. Anything you want."

…And then (surprise surprise) she wants to skip all that because she just wants him 🫠🫠

I shall leave spice level entirely up to you 😏

And for some ✨inspiration✨…

Hi bestie! Thank you for requesting a Prof! Tom fic! I loved writing it!

Exam Aid (Prof! Tom Hiddleston x Student! Reader)

Summary: When finals have gotten you down, your Shakespeare professor offers some help...and motivation...

Word Count: 5939 (woof)

Warnings: Eventual Smut at the end! NSFW! (Reader is a college student ((if undergrad or graduate that's up to you)) so she's over 18. Dom! Prof Hiddles and Sub! Reader, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, doggy style, doing it in an office. It's super filthy when it gets there, so be warned), mentions of anxiety and insomnia and mental health. My Shakespeare tastes and my IRL English Major college experiences are used and referenced bc it's my indulgent fic too and I do what I want. Some hurt/comfort. Prof Hiddles being both a dom and silly goofy in one fic bc get you a man who can do both.

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss@ijuststareatstuffhereok89@evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract (smut starts at "I'm good at more than just kissing" and ends at "He looked at you with a sweet smile", for your comfort, bestie) @eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@muddyorbsblr

 It wasn’t the actual week of finals. Oh no, you knew how the drill would go. It was the month or week before. It would be assigned. Every last essay thrown on top of you. And with professors without a touch of reality for students.

“Who the hell has time to read and finish A Tale of Two Cities in two days?!” you thought as you shoved your unabridged copy of Dickens in your bag. Promising yourself to get through as much as you can and then read the Sparknotes summary in the morning. You weren’t immune to it.

Throughout your time in college, you had many a professor. Professors came in varieties. There were creative writing professors who ranged from tiny women who would assign short stories that made no sense to blonde men with glasses and toothy grins who loved it when their male classmates wrote exploitative abuse. Mythology professors with Greek accents and tans. Then there were the mixed bag of literature professors. 

The previous professor of the literature survey for Shakespeare also taught the American Literature Survey course. He was Dr. Rutledge. He wasn’t from this year, or even this reality. Either a wise old sage or a kooky scientist from the movie. He had long, thin grey hair, and wore bow ties with black glasses and thick tweed jackets. He smiled and would speak for hours in a tone half sarcastic, half serious. You knew he would go back home and cozy up with a whole copy of Moby Dick next to a fireplace as he sipped on tea or even scotch if he was feeling adventurous. When he brought up sex and seduction with the Scarlet Letter it was the equivalent of hearing a nun confess her last orgy. 

So when you registered this year for the Shakespeare course, that was the sight you were expecting.

Since the first day in walked someone different. He may have been wearing a suit, but he definitely was not Dr. Rutledge. 

Everyone was gossiping and chattering and sipping on their iced coffees when they fell silent. Every single back stood up straighter at the sight of him. Young, tall, virile. Long, curly reddish blonde hair. A goatee and glasses to show his maturity. Sharp suits that framed every inch of his lean but fit body. Eyes and cheekbones to die for. A jaw so straight it made the men taking the class question if they were.

No introduction of “hi, I’m-” No icebreaker games. He only stepped forward, to his podium. Held onto it, everyone leaned forward. He had all of you in the palm of his hand. Then, with his clear, bright baritone voice, he spoke-

“Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York…”

His voice…something about it. So…rich…Goddammit, he picked that one, the opening speech of Richard the Third. If he picked Romeo’s balcony declaration or something like that, you would be in even more danger of falling onto the floor in a horny heap of suppressed yearning. But no…it was Richard the Third’s monolgoue. Of all the characters he was playing, of all the characters in the Shakespeare canon you could thirst after, it was fucking Richard the Third. Definitely not known as a hunk or even a likable person according to canon. 

But the way he said it- threatening, villainous even. He leaned in and confessed his true feelings about the royal family and his plot to destroy them and rule over them. You could already feel something stirring inside you. And it was eight am in the morning. 

As he finished the monologue, speaking it so naturally it was as if it were his own words, the class burst into applause.

With a casual bow, brushing his curly blonde-red hair out of his face, he introduced himself.

“Hello class- good morning. I’m your professor- Professor Hiddleston, and I will make this as fun and engaging as a morning class on Shakespeare can be.”

From then on, you enjoyed the class. You tackled it on- after all, you wanted to have some fun. You loved Shakespeare. But Professor Thomas Hiddleston…was a bonus. Thank the lord he wore suits. And if not suits, white shirts with the sleeves rolled up. He might as well as taken it off for you. 

You went through various sonnets. Then explored the poetry- Aphrodite and Lucretia. Then the plays. Even plays that the undergrads thought the most dull he made intriguing. He made everything clear with Shakespeare’s life too himself- how the Bard lost a son named Hamlet. How Shakespeare was accustomed to the great courts and low brothels Prince Hal tasted both of. 

When theatres did productions or there was the odd movie adaptation in theatres, everyone went to go see it. Then he had a showing of lesser-known film adaptations. Showing how Orson Welles framed the shot of Falstaff to make the large knight seem even larger. The Bollywood Othello where at long, long last Emilia survived and she was the one to kill Iago, much to the class’s cheering.

“Are there any other movies we should watch?” he asked.

One kid shot up and suggested Shakespeare in Love. He raised an eyebrow.

“ It was not Shakespeare’s invention to have the lovers die. Romeo and Juliet was a a known story in Elizabethan era England and everyone knew back then that the lovers died. It’s like someone just suggesting that Superman comes from another planet- we all know he does. Not  because of him having an illicit affair as his poor wife was left to raise their surviving children far off and alone!”

“What about Anonymous!?” cried one kid, trying to be cool.

He let out a deep, ragged sigh. 

“There is more than enough evidence to suggest Shakespeare wrote the plays. Every criticism says he can’t write it because he was uneducated. However, if you look, there are hysterical inaccuracies in his geography And no one questions the authorship of Maya Angelou because of her lack of formal education! Just because he was not a nobleman, does not mean he was not aware of things as you are! Every Anti-Stratfordian argument boils down to classicism.” 

It was the best class you took. Having him teach definitely helped. And he would invite people for coffee talks and of course, you would bolt to join. Yet you enjoyed it- seeing him so relaxed. Warm in his coat as everyone circled around to talk about plays they knew of but hadn’t read in this class.

“Well- all of us went through our high schools. We all read Romeo and Juliet- what do you think?” he questioned them one autumnal day. 

“They’re just brats! Ugh!” one guy snarled out.

That you couldn’t take. You set down your drink, glaring at him. 

“They’re not!” you cried out passionately.

Eyes turned forward to you. You wished youcould have slapped him, but you stopped.

“Well, Y/N…why do you think that? Why are they not brats?” the professor asked. 

“I think…the plays aren’t meant to be realistic. Of course, they fall in love immediately- so do Rosamund and Orlando but no one calls them brats! It’s not Romeo and Juliet who get everyone killed! It’s not their love that hurts anyone- it’s just the feud and Paris l thinking he is entitled to Juliet’s body after her supposed death! No one knows about them- only they, the nurse, and the priest know about it! They’re innocent! Juliet calls Romeo her ‘friend!” Her one and only friend! That’s how alone she is without him! They are just innocent victims of a greater scheme. Hamlet and Othello fall prey to their own flaws- but Romeo and Juliet are just two young kids caught in the crossfire!”

You didn’t realize how passionate you were. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment as the class gaped at you. But the Professor was nodding his head. He gave you a small smile as you sat down.

“That was…very good. Next time, use the text and a few sources, and you have yourself a good essay, Y/N,” Professor Hiddleston said.

You liked how he challenged you. He would only want you to do better. He wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass, but he would support you. You would ask after each other. He told you a bit about his life- about how much there was to grade. How he got the job. Little things- but little things only added up to how much you liked him. Even…even…no, you couldn’t you would never say it aloud. But your bedtime fantasies…you were more than mere friends…but that was only for fantasies. 

You tried to let those regular Shakespeare classes comfort you. But finals were taking a toll on your sleep, and your health. You were so wound up and stressed, trying to read and perfect essays that you had trouble going to bed. Your brain kept churning- unable to think of anything else but your work. You couldn’t realx- you worked so hard to get into this school, this degree. If you didn’t pass then…you would be a failure and all that work to go to this school would be for nothing. 

At least after a sleepless night, you had something to look forward to- to distract yourself. But even lately in those classes, you curled into yourself. The heaviness of your exhaustion and the jolt of your anxiety over finals in an unending cycle of misery. You were so…tired…and done…and drained…you knew it would pass with time…

After class, as everyone filed out, Professor Hiddleston walked over to where you slowly gathered your things. He held out a hand to you.

“What is it, Y/N? You’re usually smiling and happy here. But you seem very grave lately…has something happened?”

You shook your head.

“Not really just…finals…I want to do well. I can’t get C’s- I want to do them perfectly! I want to! I want this degree! Now I…I’m so scared of failing…I wanted this school so much, now I…I…” you began to mutter.

You felt tears wriggling out of your eyes, and your breath shook as you uselessly tried to hold them back. He handed you tissues from his coat pocket. You felt like a trashbag- crying in front of this fucking Greek God. But he looked at you kindly. You wiped your eyes. Snot threatened to release from crying and you blew your nose. Ugh, he would think you were especially gross after that. But his gentle smile did not change. You wrapped up the tissues and tossed them aside- then he handed you the little plastic package.

“Is it mansplaining if I give you some advice?” he asked.

“Oh, no…it’s not…” you said. 

“Break your studies apart, Y/N. Ten little minutes at a time. A break. Then ten more. If you take time to focus, it will help you. Or if you make it fun and play music or make little drawings, then you have a picture as well…I know it means a lot…but if you rest, you will recover…and you must think smart, not hard,” he advised.

“Okay…” you nodded.

“Y/N, there are counselors here…they will help you and you don’t have to pay anything. They; 've helped me, and so many others, they should help you…” he suggested. He got out pamphlets from a corner of his desk to give to you. 

“I’ll see one…Why are you so kind to me?” you asked impulsively, looking up.

He put his hands in his pockets, glancing down, and then back up.

“If I may be frank, you remind me so much of myself when I was a student. I had a thesis I had to write on Shakespeare’s problem plays…and it consumed me. I wish someone had given me that advice at that time-I only want you to suffer a little less. Don’t be so hard on yourself- like I was on me…”

You nodded up at him, adjusting the straps of your bag and gathering your things in your arms. 

 “And I’ll..I’ll make it fun- I’ll think of a reward for after…” you said.

He placed his hands in front of him, his lips tightening, and then in a rushed exhale, he spoke. 

“Y/N…how would you…you…you like dinner? After finals?”

You perked your head up. Was this real? You blinked at him, saying nothing.

“Y/N…make me a bet…Go to counseling, break apart your studying, get through your finals, and do as well as you can…and I will take you out to dinner, how does that sound?” he asked.

You smiled at him, your heart beating fast. But yet…you were touched. You put a hand over your chest and released an exhale.

“Professor that…that sounds wonderful…” you answered.

“Ah, excellent. Now- is that a deal?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

You gave him a smile and a small laugh.

“It’s a deal,” you replied.

You managed to get a counseling session scheduled for tomorrow. You went inside, sat, met the kind therapist, and smiled as you vented and cried out your feelings. When you went back to where you lived and spent your emotions, you crashed onto the bed. It was the best nap you had ever taken. 

You followed his advice. You broke down studying or writing essays and researching. You took more breaks. You had made flashcards with doodles for the tests and were catching on quickly. Your research was more fruitful and your essays were getting better in your eyes. You found you slept a bit better at night.

Each day as you sat in at 8 am, the Professor would smile at you and nod. You felt more like yourself again despite the looming deadlines. And they didn’t seem like a matter of life or death anymore. 

Everyone knows the week before finals are hell. To study and work so much with no time off from usual classes. But… you would still miss that 8 a.m. Shakespeare survey- and the handsome professor in his suits.

“Y/N, don’t be scared- you will be phenomenal,”  He gave you a wink that turned you into jelly.

Damn him. To think you would have dinner with him. You turned around to peek at him erasing the markerboard and glimpsing his curved bum,  how his hair curled at the back, and his broad back.

Yeah, now that was motivation to do well.

You studied and wrote with enthusiasm. You completed it all in due time. The essays were to your satisfaction.  When you settled at night, you cuddled his pillow. Remembering his smell- be it his shampoo or cologne, the mild, citrus scent. Fantasizing about him. Of dancing slowly at a formal event with you in an evening gown. Feeling his hand on your back and his head lowering down to touch your forehead. Of sharing ice cream. Being a damsel in distress for him to rescue. Then you thought of his body…. And the images changed to something naughtier. Wearing short skirts and showing up to his class. And him noticing. And lifting it up…

You conked right to sleep.

Finals week began. The entire campus knew it was stressful and went ridiculously out of their way to cheer up the students. But it was a lot of fun, you had to admit. Having dogs on campus to pet. Discounts on coffee. That Monday morning the cafeteria was packed with the free breakfast they offered. Once you brave the long lines for free food, you headed out to your first final. 

Professors, to your amusement, dotted around the campus. If they didn’t have a class to be in, they were handing little care packages while dressed in silly costumes. The sight amused you and made you smile.

Then walking up, you turned to the right and jumped at the sight with a happy, surprised gasp that became laughter. Professor Hiddleston himself wore a light, frilly tutu made for girls a quarter of his age over his pants, little costume fairy wings over his shirt,  and had a headband with little stars on top like ears. 

He turned towards you and his face turned bright pink. 

“Professor Hiddleston! What is this?!” you asked.

He opened up his arms to present his silly costume.

“We’re doing our anti-stress events! I am here to provide you with help with your stress!” he announced theatrically.

You put your hands akimbo and surveyed his costume up and down. If the class knew, they would lose it.

“And you’re doing it?!” you asked.

“Why not! I’m not a stick in the mud all the time! I can have fun!”

You laughed again.

“I should take a picture and send you to the group chat of our class!”

“I don’t see why not!”

He posed as you took a picture. 

“And how are you feeling?”

“I feel better! Much better now- I feel like I’m ready…”

“Good! It will be done soon! A bit at a time!”

He handed over a stress-free care package. Exchanging smiles, you continued by with a lighter step in your shoes. 

You went to every test outside of the pre-written essay. You knew what to do as you wrote short essays for the tests. You didn’t completely panic and wrote them as well as you could. When it came to every exam,  you felt you knew and understood the material. The week flew by. 

Sure enough, on that Friday, with shaking hands and a turning stomach, you looked up your grades. Taking in a breath right when the clock hit noon, you tapped a shaking finger on the mouse.  The link buffered on your computer to view them. Then it lit up with revelation. 

You passed them. You passed them all. In fact, you did very well. 

Your heart was racing but—you realized…you didn’t have his number. Only his email address. With the still nervous feeling…you emailed him, your professor.

“Hello Professor,

My grades were announced- and they’re all spectacular. I passed all of them. So…you made that promise…are you available for dinner?”

You sent it off. You could only ruminate for five minutes- his response was quick. 

“Of course, dear Y/N…

Here’s my number below… Meet me in my office. The parking lot isn’t far from it.”

You managed to text him immediately. You were giggling and pacing your room like a high schooler as your phone buzzed with his responses.  You re-read them as you paced about with your phone in your face. The high of your crush floating you into the clouds. You were going to go to a nice restaurant- one wasn’t finalized yet, but something nice. And that meant you had to look the part!

You were so excited. You made sure your makeup was how you liked and that your hair looked clean. You put on a part dress-one with a shorter skirt. It was too perfect not to. It was cut only a little low to show some mild cleavage. The collar was wide enough so that it showed your collarbones. It was nice, but flirtatious and romantic. It hugged you in a perfect fit while making you feel amazing and sexy. 

Sure enough, you went over to his office. The place was abandoned. All offices and buildings on the Friday of the Finals are in the early evening. You walked over and knocked on the door.

He opened the door and your heart almost stopped.

He was lovely. In his suit. His curls and that slutty goatee combed. Smelling fresh and clean. He still was in his blue suit- bringing out the blue in his eyes. Loving, beautiful.

“Ah, Y/N- please, come in,” he welcomed.

You followed suit. He closed the door. There was a second where you just looked at each other. Despite his goatee, you saw him biting his lip.

“Now, how about that dinner, Y/N…” he offered. “There’s La Gardeniera-suitable. A nice place for a special occasion as this…”

You gave him a shrug.

“I don’t care…anywhere…” you replied. 

“Anywhere? ” he asked.

He put his hands in his pocket and looked at you. It was a simple office- white and brown as many are. There was a bright window, the blinds turned over, as the setting sun’s rays fell over it. There was a small bust of Shakespeare and a pitcher with cups of water. His desk had a neat stack of papers, and annotated books all over it. Cozy and comfortable- like how he made you. 

“I just…I want to be with you…I don’t mind. Take me to a McDonalds and I won’t care…” you went on.

“Y/N…I…me?” he asked.

“Yes, you! We don’t even have to eat or…to, uh…I just…” the words were failing you and you felt your heart pick up. You looked down at the floors and then back up at him. 

“You want to…to be with me…” he walked forward curiously. But you did not retreat. Did not back away. You only met him in his blue eyes, welcoming him.

“Y/N…are you sure?” he asked.

He took a step closer. He was right before you. And you did not retreat. You met his gaze. So close. The tension between you.

“Professor Hiddleston, I am sure…I just want to be with you…anywhere…you just…make me happy…” you finally confessed.

“You make me happy too…” he murmured

He leaned forward, seeking permission. You gave a shaky nod. 

Then he kissed you.

 Something in you released. So long it was boxed up- now wild and free.  He immediately took his hands and ran them up and down you and you held onto him in the kiss. Feeling him as he deepened it with the wet sound of lips. Grabbing onto each other, releasing what had been held for so long. He released and then kissed you-again, then again. Like he was drowning and you were air. 

“Mphm- what-what were the grades?” he asked before kissing again.

You caught your breath and took a break still close to his lips. 

“Passed them. Flying colors,” you reported.

 He kissed you again, moaning into it. Then he broke it again.

“Well now…my little student…doing so well…” he rasped.

You grabbed him and heart racing you felt him kiss you. His facial hair scratched against you. He kissed you back. He backed you up.

“You’ve been…good…” he breathed, pressing you there into it. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. 

“Mphm- this feels…feels so nice…you’re a good kisser,” you whispered.

“I’m good at more than just kissing, my dear-”

He held you, pulling you close. He backed you to the door-holding you against him. He then reached a hand and turned over the lock. It was sealed with a click. His hands then returned to you. He cupped your cheeks, then it slid down your neck, and your chest, and then settled on your wasit. 

“I’ve…I’ve…God, I’ve wanted you so much…I…I don’t know if I…think I can…hold back…my dear, I-I-if you’re not…not ready, I’ll-”

“I don’t want to leave yet- let’s wait for dinner-take me. Fuck me here, now,” you begged. 

You didn’t need to say any more than that.  ou shuddered. He found your skirt and touched your leg, lifting it up. Feeling your skin, cold from exposure.

“All this…is all for me now…”

His hand reached over your leg. His long fingers possessively gripped each bit of flesh. Enjoying it- feeling you for the first time. Treasuring you and making his mark- you were his and his alone. He wrapped an arm around you and lifted you up onto that door. You let out a sound He then took your leg and guided it to wrap around his waist, holding onto him. You were so dripping wet you could feel his pants brushing your soaked panties. He held you easily-so, so easily. Just muscle and wall holding you and keeping you in place. He managed to lift you up- keeping you up with how pressed he was to you. How warm. Keeping him on you.

Your lips crashed again. You kept touching him. One hand finally touching his hair- his beautiful, long curls. The other kissing into him. In his suit, he began to ground against you now that you had nowhere to go away- not that you would leave. He kissed you with tongue and fire. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back, wet noises and messy, desperate need.

“Tom…Tom, I-” you murmured.

He touched your chin, shushing you.

“We’re still in my office, my dear. And you will call me Professor,” he said.

He reached a hand down- feeling hte seat of your soaked panties. Smiling from teh effect already.

“Yes…yes, I will…” you breathed out. 

“Now- my little angel. She did so well…and she comes to me, so needy…so desperate-first for her finals and now for my cock-”

You held onto him, touching his tie. Pulling him up. You felt his erection stretching through his pants. The hooded eyes and soft voice, his hot breath. You gave him a smile- eager to have him. 

“I’m going to rip your clothes off and fuck you senselessly- and I want you- I never heard a thank you- I want to hear your gratitude for how I take care of you in every way…how does that sound? Too much for you?”

“It sounds wonderful for me-Professor,” you purred in response.

He wrapped an arm to help you up and carried you- legs around his waist.

. He then backed you over to his desk. He kept one by you- so close, so close. He took a hand and shoved aside the books and papers. It didn’t matter- now there was you. 

He pulled up your skirt. Desperately trying to find the zipper. Almost shaking in his long fingers. His erection seeping through his pants- he was so pent up.

“All that time. Wanting you. Feeling you near. Do you know how many nights I had to jerk off to imagine this- you! Seeing you- feeling you right there- my little beauty, angel, and siren at once.”

He shoved your dress off and down. Now in your bra and underwear. His hands went to under your straps- feeling them already- his bare flesh on your bare flesh. You were backed there.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you what?” he asked darkly.

“Th-thank you, Professor.”

He kissed you again. You were his little pet, his toy, his plaything. And you would please him- You held onto his shoulders. Grinding more into his body, He was still. Yet you heard his breaths, catching in his chest. He still remained clothed. 

Then in a rush, he gripped your bra.

“You won't need these- not with me.”

With a strength that made you gasp, He ripped your bra in half. He breasted so fast, panting like a beast. Looking down at your breasts.  Both large hands fondled them, moving them around. 

“Th-Thank you, Professor,” you whispered.

“But there’s one thing- one thing keeping me- from what I need” he growled.

He reached down, and in a second, he ripped your panties apart again in half. You gasped at the feeling. The cloth in two- uselessly falling apart.

“No bra- no panties when I see you -easier access- do you understand…I have a need for you, do you get it-”

“Yes- yes, sir.”

“Close- but not it. You forgot. And you’ll be punished.”

He turned you around, so your bare ass was shown. He immediately spanked you hard- it clapped around you. You let out a shout.

“It’s thank you-Professor.”

“Thank you Professor!” you cried out, feeling the sting. 

“And you will get it right!”

He spanked you again, harder. The momentum made you move against the desk, feeling your ass move with it. And feeling his greedy eyes all over your exposed skin.

“Th-Thank you, Professor!” you cried.

He pulled you back up but kept your back to his chest. He kissed your cheek, fondling you from behind, whispering in your ear.  

“If you don’t want another punishment-Tell me what I am-”

“You-you’re my-my-”

The words failed you. He leaned you down again and spanked you.

“You’re my professor!”

He spanked you again.

“Say it again- and say thank you-”

“Yes- yes- thank you, Professor…”

He grazed over you. Feeling you. You were catching your breath. Dripping so hard. He put his hands against your inner legs. 

“The more I do this- the more I see you, the more I’m with you, the more you- you torture me. I can’t stand it- I-I have to have you, Y/N- I have to, I have to-do you- do you want-”

You lightly turned your head over to see him and could have gasped. 

He unzipped his pants and lowered them. Already his cock was large and twitching. It leaked so much, that his precum made you shiver. It drizzled down and made a path down his leg. You clutched onto the desk, smiling and bracing yourself. 

“Yes- take me- take me on your desk, Professor…”

He smiled, and then his hand made you bend over it again. ‘

“Spread. Your. Legs.”

You were such a horny querying mess, he touched your legs so that they spread for him. Then finally, you felt him at your entrance, and inside. 

You let out a long groan- and so did he. As he got in - inch by inch. 

“Yes- yes all-ah!” you cried out as he got all of himself in you. 

He eased you in at first. Your legs again over. He gave a few gentle, experimental thrusts. It was slow, even sloppy. Each intrusion, poking you inside. You were making an appreciative groan. You ground your hips further against him. The room was hot and smelled thick with sex.

“There…you can take…take all your professor's cock, can you?” he growled.

“Yes-yes I can..”

He then made a sharp thrust inside and you cried out.

“Oh!”

He then experimented- hips rolling towards your ass. You let out sounds like you never heard yourself make. He then had a hand to keep you down. To keep you down And then he began to pick up. Slamming into you. Keeping you still, close, on him. 

“Nrg-nrgh- yes-there-fuck-there’s my-myfuck- good litlte student-nrgh-want to please me- hrng-begging-begging to-shit-yes-yes-darling-begging for me-”

You were moaning into it. Your body shakes forward and back from his thrusts. You felt yourself spiraling. Then he slowed. He leaned down and whispered into your ear. The pleasure was at a standstill, you caught your breath as you heard his hot voice right beside you.

“You have another order- cum only when I’m about to-cum when I tell you- yes?” he demanded

“Yes!”

“Yes, are you grateful!” He moved his hands to feel your arms. 

“I am- th-tahnk you, Pr-Professor.”

He went back up and began to thrust again. Slow- then medium. You let out those pornographic sounds out as he did.

“Fuck- what you do to me, darling,” he breathed out. 

He let out another gasp, his voice itching up in a groan and then back down. Then he slammed into you, letting out a loud voice. 

“Who is going to let you cum?  Who lets you cum when you’re a good girl?” he rasped. 

“My-my- fuck-professor will- will let me-cum-yes!

“Not yet- not yet-mine is-if-fuck, it’s building.-”

He spread your legs wide and entered you. Then he grabbed your hips. He began to pound into you. The desk shaking- the wall quivering. Slamming against that wall with a thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. He whimpered your name. You clung onto it, your knuckles popping out of you.

“Yes-Yes you are-beautiful little student- you are-g-grateful- fuck.-tight-so tight- shit-”

He was so deep, just rutting into you. He was an animal. Pure fucking you into the desk You felt the itch of his suit- the deepness of it. The papers scrambling away- scratching you. The pure ecstasy of it.

“And” thrust “tell me-” thrust “tell me this”- thrust “darling-”

He laced a hand, it reached your folds. You let out a whimper. He dug around- two fingers in-already feeling you. God- you weren’t going to last. He wasn’t going to like it, but you weren’t going to last. You let out a whimper as you felt him inside you.

“What” thrust “ is it” thrust”- “what is it- good” thrust “good girls do- ”thrust

“They-they-they get to-to-to come, Professor-”

“Yes! Yes-you're at my-my limit-gods-gods- what you do to me-You’ve been good-so good- I can’t-I can’t-so cum, darling-”

He strummed you. And you let out another intense gasp. He was strumming you. His fingers making you more open, his cock in, out, in out. You felt it build- he played with your clit so much. Trying the right place, You felt it rise, but not there. And he kept thrusting. A frustration in his rasp.

“Yes- dammit- why won’t you now? Why won’t-won’t you cum?! Cum, dammit- cum- darling- fuck, fuck- god- yes, gods, I’m there…I’m getting there, cum, dammit- why won’t you cum…”

With a new fury, he pounded against you into the desk- the filthiest, most intense thing you felt. The pleasure building up you, going up, up about to be out of control. 

“I’m- I’m going to-I’m going to-I’m going to cum, professor I-I-I”

It would spiral up, yes, but you had yet to reach it. You ground your hips further, moving from his thrusts, as his fingers were there- finding you at the still of your high and just needing your brink.

“Yes- God, yes-cum, darling-I order you, your professor orders you-Yes- yes, cum, girl, dammit- do it, cum, darling- fuck, I’m about to- do it- CUM!” he deamnded like a yell.

With a last shout you cried- “PROFESSOR!” and you came.

Spiraling down from the pleasure. It broke into chills over you-your voice left you and yet your heart was racing. You could feel him gushing into you and yet you could also feel the cum from your own body between your legs, on his fingers.  He panted. He then moved you over. You saw his hair wild and arrayed. You moved it out of his face.

He looked at you with a sweet smile then took your hand and kissed it. He sat you down on a chair and took off his jacket- putting it over you like a cape. Then he went over and got you a glass of water from the pitcher. 

His voice had softened, he kept touching your face, checking for any accidental bruises or marks.

 “How are you? Are you…are you alright, Y/N? I didn’t go too…too-”

“You were perfect- it was perfect,” you replied with a smile. The water wasn’t super cold- but it was fresh. 

He let out a sigh of relief. He then cupped your cheek. 

“You should see yourself how I see you. You’re glowing. Absolutely glowing-I had only hoped you were…were happy with it…”

He looked down at the ruined bra and panties.

“I’ll buy you another…” he muttered in apology.

“Oh- an orgasm and dinner and new bra and panties? You spoil me rotten already!” you teased.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and then he helped you back to dressing. 

“Here-we could…go back to my place and order something. At this rate, it might get late. I’m not that good of a cook-I was hoping a restaurant would impress you. I hope you don’t mind…”

“How could I, Professor?” you added, taking your hand in his. 

[nightcolorz]

Just remembered when I was reading the vampire armand I was so confused the whole time I was like why tf is marius playing hot and cold mind games with this teenager wtf is going through his head what is his deal only for it to be explained in blood and gold that the reason marius started to act like a resentful freak when armand got older was bcus he bought him thinking buying a horribly traumatized child who was gonna die anyway would be the kinder merciful alternative to turning Bianca into a vampire bcus this kid has no chance at a life anyway so it’s not so bad to raise him to be a vampire, only for armand to grow into his most intelligent athletic healthy capable pupil who could definitely grow up and do great things if he was given the opportunity, so now this fuck ass blonde man has to emotionally deal with the reality that he has been grooming a kid into vampirism instead of preparing him to go to collage like his brothers bcus he’s selfish 👍 and the way he decides to emotionally deal with that is by throwing angry painting tantrums and telling everyone to leave him alone 😔💔 he is so wise and sage

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Human Sayings Jake Sully Tries to Bring to the Na’vi Accidentally (imagine these all in Na’vi all janky as fuck):

-Jake, during a war council meeting: you win some you loose some. 

Tarsem, nodding sagely: This is very wise, Jake Suli. 

-Jake: Lo’ak will be back before eclipse, Eywa willing if the creek don’t rise. 

Neytiri: tHE CREEK IS RISING?

Jake: Wait, no--

-Jake, before Lo’ak’s iknimaya: break a leg!

Lo’ak, tearing up: wHaT?!?

Jake: wait--

-This man is constantly knocking on wood. There’s so much wood available, he lives in a tree for God’s sake. He’s like “the hunt will be blessed today, knock on wood,” or “I think it might rain later, knock on wood,” and all the Omaticaya are so confused. 

-He called Neytiri’s medicine bag a fanny pack one time. 

-During a war council meeting: Alright, let’s table this. Revisit after dinner. 

Tonowari: You want us to attack the human fleet with tables??

Jake: Ugh, no, sorry. 

-Told Neteyam not to be “such a wet blanket” one time when he told Lo’ak not to jump down to Jake from a really high waterfall when they were little. Definitely broke his nose when Lo’ak misjudged the jump and landed on him. Definitely also got in trouble with Neytiri when the kids won’t stop calling each other wet blankets for at least a month. The wetness of the blankets ratchets up based on how mad the person is. Kiri once told Lo’ak he was a sopping blanket when he stepped on Spider’s foot. 

-Told Neytiri Neteyam tripped over a branch by saying he “ate it” once and she was horrified, mostly because why would an eight year old be dumb enough eat a branch. 

-Told Mo’at he was “feeling under the weather” once when she asked how he felt. She did not question it at all, deciding if he really wanted her to know he’d tell her in real words.

-Told Ronal he and Tonowari were going to “shoot the breeze.” Ronal was disgusted with this waste of time and resources. 

[randomfandomblabdom]

Fallen Order & Survivor Musical Themes

Has anyone done this yet? Here is a comprehensive list of all of the character themes/motifs found in the Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor video games for anyone interested. I tried to give several examples of each and also included some of my own thoughts. You can listen to many or as few links as you want. If I missed anything please feel free to add on or let me know.

FALLEN ORDER CAL KESTIS - I'm giving Cal two separate sections because I'm pretty positive he now has two separate themes and in attempts to make it less confusing, I've decided to very creatively refer to them as Fallen Order Cal and Survivor Cal. I'm a genius, I know. Fallen Order Cal is consistently heard all over both games. It's his primary theme. It feels young and heroic and wide-eyed... Remember feeling like nothing could touch you when you were young? That's the sort of feeling I get from Fallen Order Cal. It's not happy per se but it's hope and optimism sprinkled with naive youthfulness and an undertone of solemnity. He's been through some serious shit but he's a kid, he's young. The grief and trauma are there for sure but they haven't encompassed him completely. There's still some hope behind those eyes, there's a healing journey to go on, and there's a chance to take on this Empire. It's only until Survivor that the theme starts feeling a little more grounded just like the transition from childhood to adulthood. Fallen Order Cal in Survivor feels a bit less magical, that youthful spirit has diminished, that hope has dwindled.

CAL KESTIS

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

PEACEKEEPERS

A FRONTIER WELCOME

ABOVE THE CLOUDS

A STEP TOO FAR

SURVIVOR CAL KESTIS - So, I originally thought this was a minor key variation of a section of Cal's theme but I've since realized that it technically is a completely separate theme. That being said, thanks to @foxykatie425 in this insanely detailed reply to my frustrations regarding this theme that put what I was hearing into musical terms way out of my element in terms of explaining, I've realized that I may have been somewhat correct. I don't know if the two themes are actually connected, that would be a question for the composers but at the very least, it's definitely a secondary darker theme for Cal as it only ever plays in reference to him and I'd wager a guess that it's the main theme of Survivor as a whole. Compared to Fallen Order Cal, Survivor Cal feels drained, heavy, tired, burdened, and above all else, dark and foreboding. There is a genuine weight to this theme that just feels sinister. There is a hint of Fallen Order Cal there but as that post says, it almost feels like it's on the verge of falling apart. He's not the same man he was five years ago and the fact that this theme is the first thing you hear music-wise in the game and accompanies your very first view of him is an incredible way of subconsciously telling that to your audience right off the bat.

DARK TIMES

ABOVE THE CLOUDS - note: this theme and Fallen Order Cal switch back and forth constantly in this track and I find that so interesting.

NOVA GARON

NIGHTSISTER MERRIN - Merrin's theme is interesting to me because it doesn't sound anything like the type of music you might use to accompany a witch or magic user. It's not necessarily fantastical or whimsical or anything of the sort. In fact, it sounds more like something you might use for a superhero. It's a little bit timid or unsure or even afraid in Fallen Order but god damn has it built in confidence and strength once Survivor rolls around. The only time you hear that sort of timidness to it again is during the first kiss on Jedha which has such interesting implications for her being a nervous wreck in that moment. I also adore how it sounds as an action cue which you hear several times throughout Survivor. It sounds like it comes straight from the best MCU movies and yes, I do mean that as a compliment.

TO DATHOMIR

PEACEKEEPERS

MERRIN

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

TRIDENT

FLIGHT

CAL & MERRIN'S LOVE THEME - Look, I genuinely did not think they would actually go through with making Cal and Merrin canon, I honestly thought they'd chicken-shit out and I was certainly not expecting them to get any sort of love theme if they did but here we are... and we somehow got both. Cal and Merrin are canon and they got a love theme. Holy fucking shit. It just has all that warmth and sweetness of a friend-to-lovers romance too.

FIELDS OF DUSK - ORCHESTRAL VERSION

CAMPFIRE

A STEP TOO FAR

THE ABYSS

BD-1 - I said in my post regarding my thoughts on the Survivor score that these two video game scores are quite possibly the closest we've ever gotten to a John Williams sound from a composer(s) who is in fact, not John Williams. Not that every piece of Star Wars music has to sound like the big man himself, part of the reason The Mandalorian theme was so positively received was that it was such a different sound for Star Wars but I stand by what I said: this is the closest a composer has gotten to a John Williams sound and they have clearly done their research. Some people might not know this but R2 and 3PO have a very small motif heard throughout the films. It's not played very often and is sometimes not very noticeable but it's there and BD-1's motif is not only similar but definitely sounds like it exists within the same universe. I also love that droids are so often musically presented as very childlike, innocent, and mischievous. BD in particular has a very playful energy.

BD-1 AND THE BOGLINGS

MERRIN

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

TRILLA SUNDURI/SECOND SISTER - Trilla's theme legitimately activates my fight or flight response and when I say that, I mean mostly my flight response cause you won't find me messing with this shit. It's very much in lieu of the famous Psycho violins which were written to heighten your senses by emulating screams. I wish we got more of it cause it's intimidating as fuck and a piece of dark side art.

FIGHT AND FLIGHT

TRILLA

THE WILL OF THE FORCE

CERE JUNDA - Don't hate me but I haven't quite fallen in love with Cere's theme yet. That's not to say it's bad by any means, it's absolutely beautiful. It has such a deep melancholy vibe to it, like an inescapable sadness. It almost has a feeling of failure to me weirdly enough.

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

DESERT RUINS

SIEGE

THE VISITOR

ENO CORDOVA - I've mentioned this before but again, for people who might not know: the music that is widely considered to be the main theme of Fallen Order - so much so it was primarily used during the recap at the beginning of Survivor - is Cordova's theme. It's such an interesting artistic choice because I think many people would've made it either Cal's theme or given the entire game its own theme in general. I listen to this one a lot honestly. It's so calming and safe feeling.

THE PATH OF THE THREE SAGES

FAILURE IS NOT THE END

ENO CORDOVA'S THEME

THE NARKIS ANCHORITES

BODE AKUNA - Yes, Bode does have a theme and you know what? It slaps. I really like it. It's very adventurous and feels quite friendly which is ironic as hell. It does get some heart-wrenching renditions nearer to the end of the game. It's the music that swells when he force-pushes Cal and everyone collectively shits themselves. Oh, it also has some dark renditions as well.

ABOVE THE CLOUDS

A STEP TOO FAR

BROTHERS

THROUGH DARKNESS

RAYVIS - As far as I can tell, Rayvis does not have a set theme but he is usually accompanied by high-playing strings and his boss fight music is the best example of that. I actually don't think a lot of Rayvis moments ended up on the score soundtrack which... how dare they.

WARRIORS CODE

DAGAN GERA - I thought Dagan didn't have a theme for the longest time but it turns out he actually does have a tiny motif that I do wish had been more thoroughly realized in the score because it's so menacing and I absolutely love it. It's most prominently heard during his last confrontation with Cal. He is also usually accompanied by low-playing horns. Not always but usually.

RELEASE ME

TO THE RESCUE

GRAND OCULUS

KATA AKUNA - I'm going to rant about this one for a second, okay? I have spent the last few weeks wondering what the hell the melody that plays throughout the track Through Darkness is. I was sitting here plucking out melodies on a piano app (cause I don't own a keyboard) and was like, "Okay, it's not Cal's theme, it's not Bode's theme, it's not Merrin's theme... what the hell is that series of notes??" Yes, I'm aware that not every note has to mean something but these just felt like they did. It's played at such an emotional point in the game and for two scores that already work heavily around themes and motifs and musical ideas, it didn't make sense to me that this little series of notes would mean nothing, especially at such a poignant moment. Funnily enough, it only just occurred to me while making this post that it's fucking Kata's theme. At least I think it is. Well, motif. It's not a fully developed theme but it definitely has the makings of one. That's not even me making a wild guess either, these notes appear in other places in the story that feature Kata.

NOVA GARON

THE ABYSS

THROUGH DARKNESS

GHOST STAR - I'm adding this for fun because I think it's gorgeous and I love it but it leads me to ask: why has there been no official release of Ghost Star? With or without vocals? This is a genuine question. It does not appear on the Cantina album nor is there even a snippet of its melody on the score album. It makes me wonder if the song was maybe added later into production? Trust me, I love the orchestral cover that has been going around and people are obviously seeking it out cause the track has gained thousands of streams in the months since the game was released. It was at 10k the last time I looked on Spotify and it's currently at 24k as of writing this. I'm just genuinely surprised EA/Respawn or hell, even Lucasfilm hasn't capitalized off that.

GHOST STAR

GHOST STAR W/ VOCALS

Thank you most sincerely if you made it all the way here :)

I liked this. I should do this for more scores lol.

[griefpersevering]

Chapter eight of runaways running the night, my spideypool retelling of Deadpool & Wolverine, is now up!! here's a little snippet:

"What happened to trusting your teammate to tell you when they're hurt?" asks Peter, trying to keep his tone light.

Wade glances sideways at him, head tilted like he wasn't expecting the question. "I'm not hurt, peanut. Nothing hurts me."

"Does it not hurt?" Wade's mutation is curious, but he's definitely jealous if he can come back from any injury without feeling any of the pain. "Or do you mean your healing factor always takes care of it?"

Wade laughs, but it's a hollow sound compared to the joy of earlier. "It still hurts. Don't worry about me, though, baby boy. You'd never guess, but getting shot regularly has done wonders for my pain tolerance."

"If it hurts, it hurts," Peter says, echoing the same words Wade had said to him last night.

He swallows and turns away with a shrug. They walk in silence for a few minutes, the burn in his legs as they climb up a steep grassy hill and the unusual debris littering the Void enough to distract Peter.

"My blind, elderly, African-American roommate, Blind Al, always says that pain teaches us who we are. Sometimes we need to listen to that pain instead of running from it."

Peter scrubs a hand over his mask. He's spent his life running from his pain. As if saving a hundred lives, a thousand, a million, will bring back the people he's lost. Even this — even if he helps to save countless people in Wade's timeline — won't be enough to absolve him.

So he steers them back into safer conversation territory. "Seriously?"

"I know." Wade nods sagely. "She's so wise."

"No — that's what you call her? Blind Al?"

Wade shrugs. "Well... she's blind."

[wayfayrr]

Some thoughts on self aware chain.

I like the idea wise that the links who had more games tied to their belt would remember reader much more and be even more on the edge since the hole thing about having reader to be their with you, comfort and wisdom and then they suddenly you don't hear their voice and now things are quiet and now when you have another battle hylia wants you to do suddenly reader is back and their confused "but thankfully reader is back right, they won't leave right? And now their gone. The links that don't know their is a screen between them and reader or the fact their in a video game would think reader's disappearing and reappearing has something to do with hylia and further their resentment towards hylia or the ones who haven't gotten to hate hylia would hope that reader didn't choose to suddenly leave them and they are safe. Some of the links who are a 'little' obsessive would probably not stop till they learn why reader is gone even when someone gets hurt, (I'm looking at you sage) the crash they would feel when no one knows reader, this would definitely make them question their sanity making them wondering if reader was even Real, that they just made them up, after all a lot of their adventures they were alone and the ones who seen things that would give soldiers nightmares, the possibility they made up reader because they were alone and they needed a companion this is strong with the ones who shown to lose someone in their life or never had someone there for their back like twilight, legend,wild,hyrule and sage. Some of them would let go, others would still believe reader is real and that they didn't make them up. The ones who had more games would remember reader more clearly and when they see reader again with the chain? It's a shock where multiple emotions hit them varying from griefs sorrow rage happiness and just hits them all at once causing an outsider to think their frozen for a minute. Some would ask questions to reader from why did you leave and if the links know that each other know they know reader it would make them believe that reader isn't fake because how does heroes from many eras have the same memories of a person and so the question on how is reader able to age at all. And because of everything above the links would probably be even more worse, I mean quicker to get possessive and more clingy and much more controlling and more willing to kill people who get in between them and reader then before too the point even when someone outside the chain just simply smile at reader do they get possessive and just cage reader in their arms or just glare at the person foe the links who are shorter than reader.

I love how you've brought up the fact that some link's do know that there's a screen between them and reader - for me there are a couple that would realise that they were in a game during the game, Sky being the main one due to a couple of things to do with his game (the glitches and how characters speak to him) Something I also noticed when playing skyward sword HD is that his eyes loosely track the camera! so in my opinion he's the most likely to realise he's in a game quickly!

For Sage I reckon he start exactly as you said!!! he'd get so so so desperate to know why reader keeps slipping out for sections that he starts to question his sanity and question why only he knows reader. Why he's the only one who can hear them, even questioning some of the things they say- then small things that he could've ignored start to add up and he realises he's not the one in control of his body... Until there's a moment it clicks that he's in a game, that his darling reader doesn't see him as a person. but they treat him so much better than anyone else ever has so all he needs to do is find a way to make himself real to them. How hard could that be? If there's a way that he could realise he was within a game there has to be a way to get out right? He just needs to find it.

Sage and sky both have switch games... maybe they'd work together if they both knew the other was aware? coming to an agreement to share reader when they find their way out. Wild would be included in this as well if he managed to figure it out - although I feel he'd be one of the links who are less likely to figure it all out.

as for the other links you've listed? Twilight is on the verge of knowing, and the other links with the older games are even less likely to ever connect the dots just due to the nature of their games (there are situations where they could? but they're just less likely to happen than in the newer games) So they'd act exactly as you said! they'd assume either Hylia is behind reader's disappearances, or some other force preventing them from staying. so if they met reader with the chain? like with two they'd be instantly on reader and so much more clingy and possessive compared to usual, seeing as they've never been able to keep them with them before. legend wouldn't ever let go of them again. he couldn't risk not being able to see them again. sidenote I love the idea of just how possessive they eventually get of the reader - glaring at anyone and constantly holding them tight to their side.

[1ovede1uxe]

what designer scents would the jojos wear?

about a year ago now I posted one of my first headcanons, which was the bath and body works scents of the animated jojos. i now give you, the classy, upscale, version of whatever was running through my head then

jonathan joestar - gentleman (1974) by givenchy

top notes: honey, cinnamon, rose, tarragon, bergamot, and lemon

middle notes: patchouli, cedar, orris root, and jasmine

base notes: patchouli, leather, civet, oakmoss, vetiver, musk, amber and vanilla

this scent has an air of elegance to it, while still having a warm and rich feeling. it's a timeless scent that never goes out of style. the recent reformulation has it drying down stronger honey-wise, but that's alright, because like jonathan, its got that sweet side. the leather also gives it the "manly" vibe too. overall, it's cozy, elegant, and the scent of a true gentleman like jonathan.

young joseph joestar - dior sauvage

top notes: calabrian bergamot, pepper

middle notes: sichuan pepper, lavender, pink pepper, vetevier, patchouli, germanium, elemi

base notes: ambroxan, cedar, labdanum

if you know anything about this fragrance, you'll know why it's fitting. to me, it really smells like a muskier axe body spray, but a lot of people really like it and claim it's overhated, and here i am giving it to my favorite joestar. he definitely thinks it makes him smell rich and suave and maybe even elegant (because its dior), but he really smells like most of the other guys his age at the club. caesar absolutely clowns him for it, but he doesn't care. this scent comes on strong, some people dig it, some don't, just like joseph.

old joseph joestar - maison martin margiela "replica" jazz club

top notes: pink pepper, neroli, lemon

middle notes: rum, java vetiver oil, clary sage

base notes: tobacco leaf, vanilla bean, styrax

after many years of sauvage, holly came along and got a nose full of it when joseph picked her up, she called out how strong it was and made her nose itchy, and he needed to switch it up because anything to make his little girl happy! this scent is a bit different, leaning more towards his grandfather's choices in the warm and sweetness, but it still has that bite of pink pepper right at that front, you know it's still the same joseph you know and love. a more mature perfume for a more mature man, but still has an air of fun to it.

jotaro kujo - armani acqua di gio

top notes: lemon, lime, bergamot, jasmine, orange, mandarin orange, neroli

middle notes: "sea notes," calone, jasmine, rosemary, peach, freesia, hyacinth, cyclamen, violet, coriander, rose, nutmeg, mignonette

base notes: musk, cedar, oak moss, patchouli, amber

this applies to all parts y'all! his mommy got it for him as a stocking stuffer for christmas and not once has he ever changed it out. it smells fresh and clean without the overbearing spices, and the warmth of musk and amber balances out the citrus and florals, creating a timeless scent. it's quite popular among men, but jotaro doesn't really care, he likes it. the sea notes also fit well with the marine biology. when he's young, he uses it only for important events, but as he ages (and has more money) he finds himself reaching for it more and more often.

josuke higashikata - terre d'hermès

top notes: orange, grapefruit

middle notes: pepper, pelargonium, flint

base notes: vetiver, cedar, patchouli, benzoin

he's gotta spend that lotto money on something! or dad's money! like his father once did, he wants a scent that makes him seem rich and suave and awesome, however, josuke has a little more fun with it as that initial bite is not with pepper, but a bitter citrus. the spices still just tickle the nose, delivering a balanced, smooth, blend. he may have even taken notes from jotaro's citrus scent as well, who's to say? its got a vintage flair, but it still feels modern, its just an overall unique scent, you're not gonna find anyone else wearing something like this.

giorno giovanna - versace pour homme

top notes: lemon, bergamot, neroli, rose de mai

middle notes: hyacinth, cedar, clary sage, geranium

bottom notes: tonka bean, musk, amber

this versatile and underrated scent i feel gives the perfect scent profile for giorno. it may not be overly extravagant, but understated elegance is precisely what makes it so endlessly enjoyable. it can be worn day or night, dressed up or down, and its versatility makes it great for whatever he may do. i had said in my bath and body works post a while ago he'd reserve designer cologne for occasions, but thinking about it now, this is something he'd wear on the daily.

jolyne kujo - gucci flora gorgeous gardenia

top notes: pear blossom, red berries, italian mandarin

middle notes: gardenia, jasmine, frangipani

bottom notes: brown sugar, patchouli

i had a couple ideas for jolyne, but i ended up picking gucci because i thought of the jojo x gucci collab and felt it was perfect. this scent doesn't overpower, but is still captivating in its own unique way. the sweetness of the top notes combined with the white florals offers a fresh scent always is going to turn heads. jolyne is a creative and smart character and does things in her own way, and quite honestly, i feel like this blend reflects that. not much else to it.

i hope you all enjoyed :D i'm thinking about posting a version of this for the jobros too

masterlist <3

[egg-emperor]

man I really wish people would stop infantilizing Sage. she's not a dumb baby toddler that can't take care of herself, she doesn't need protecting and babysitting. it's too rare to find people who don't think of her like that

Eggman made her to protect him. that was the whole point and he said so. he leaves her/sends her out alone tons of times. he let her die for him. she's smart and capable. the definition of her name is literally to be profoundly WISE

that's what Eggman really wants. if she had actually been like some dumb baby, he wouldn't have praised her and kept her around because he'd have no gain, only loss and trouble and nothing to be proud of as she wouldn't be a reflection of his genius

relationships for him are transactional and monatary, he's a selfish egotist and a narcissist. it's all for his personal use and gain. the way she can appeal to his needs in serving him and to his ego in her being his impressive creation is why he values her and he's open about this in his memos

and then as a result this loops around to OOC depictions and misconceptions of their dynamic in fanon, as it usually involves Eggman being unnecessarily softened and Sage being infantilized

what they've actually got going on in the game is so much more interesting and I really wish there was more of it. but I guess I just gotta live by Eggman's word

I will continue to contribute the best I can lol

[mishy-mashy]

Shinomori is cute. Here's a post.

He is so baby-faced. He hasn't changed at all since he was 22, to when he died of "old age" at 40

(Old age? With a face like that? 40 years old?? Gimme that kind of youth and hotness Shinomori-)

He has tiny eyebrows. Like a puppy's (rottweiler's, for example). So cute and tiny and fuffy

He naturally frowns. Look at him and his mouth and his lil nose

He has a thing about keeping his arms near his chest. He sits with his arms crossed, introduces himself with his hands over his torso, and even walks with his arms crossed toward Midoriya

He has such clear skin for someone who lived the rest of his life in a forest??? Why do Hikage and Yoichi have such nice skin despite living in terrible environments? (forest and vault + abandoned streets respectively)

Is easily scared

They knew their Quirks could be used, but Shinomori got scared of it when it happened. Even though he gave Midoriya his support and access to his Quirk beforehand. Depending on the translation; "it startled me", "you scared me", "it surprised me"

I'm not going to hold running from AFO against him because he knew he was running for his life. Who wouldn't run for their life when it's in danger? Shinomori was being chased by the strongest person in the country (and likely the world)

His sense of self-preservation is probably heightened by the nature of his Quirk to keep him out of danger too. Which makes him all the more sensitive and jumpy to danger and anything that startles him, especially when he has no warning

He's actually extremely tall, but is so socially inept and jumpy it's adorable. He's taller than Bruce.

Bruce is as tall as a vault door that the 2m AFO used.

(Meanwhile Kudo is down there-)

He has such a bad sense of humor that it's cute (his puns off Danger Sense)

It's also adorable how Shinomori just doesn't understand social conventions sometimes. He lived in a forest, so it made sense, but also— Midoriya shows up in the void to the vestige platform for the first time. He has no mouth, no clothes—and Shinomori's first idea is to stand in front of him menacingly and go: "I shall explain. I am Shinomori Hikage." SIRRRR

This.

His Ability is basically like glorified anxiety. What if something is coming to hurt him? If something can hurt him? What if that tree falls while he's under it? And the ideas come so hard they hurt (although yes, it does detect ill intent and that's what sets it off)

He talks weirdly. Formal? Old-fashioned? Listening to him speak Japanese compared to others, it just sounds a bit different. (Translated subs don't show it very well, it's the voice itself methinks)

"This too, is destiny." *about Midoriya having OFA*

Kinda wise or sage-y. He did spend his life in solitude in the forests so he definitely spent a lot of time with his own thoughts. Maybe he found the meaning of life in a centipede or something one day

For someone so cute, he is also such. A fine. Specimen???

Look at those back muscles, dang.

LOOK AT HIS CALVES AND ARMS DANG.