#I made this post solely to test out how scheduling works

[nerdycocoa]

Draw Spode.

[luneariaa]

✧ in piscinam.

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : claudio serafino x fem! reader.

✰ 𝐰. 𝐜. : 1k+

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : claudio sees you within the cool waters of the pool, before deciding to approach you and make his presence known.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reader is wearing a dress ( mentioned ), claudio might be ooc, pretty much a self-indulgent fic. also very fluffy <33

✰ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : my very first attempt on writing for him, and the ideas have been brainrotting in my mind for weeks 😭💙 so i just knew that i had to actually post this one out.

. dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! 💫

The light taps of your shoes filled the silent hallways, stepping against the perfectly marbled floors with such ease within the private sanctuary within Italy– the Duomo di Sirio, as it was known to some others. You are also recognized to be in a quite higher position than others as well, just below CLAUDIO SERAFINO himself, as you are his personal confidante. One of his most trusted person, as far as he’s aware.

Not a single soul in sight, so you have decided to take a quick dip within the clear waters of the pool nearby, just to try to cool yourself off due to the warm weather. Claudio wasn’t around as well, since the last time you checked his schedule, he had some important errands to tend to.

Eventually arriving at the intended location, you take one last look around you, just to make sure that no one is present– gradually letting your dress fall onto the hard ground without any sound and changing it to a transparent one, before immediately letting yourself sink within the cool waters below.

Today seemed strangely quiet. For Claudio, at least. He was expecting any sort of greeting from you once he arrived not too long ago, but instead, he finds himself searching for your whereabouts around the place. 

Several thoughts are running through his mind, and yet, none of them have made any proper thoughts due to how messy it currently is. His steps are quite heavy, yet cautious as to not attract any attention somehow. These past few months have been admittedly stressful for him, and it has tested some bits of his patience in ways unimaginable.

It didn’t take him long enough to halt on his tracks, spotting a rather familiar someone by the clear waters. It’s pretty unexpected to see someone taking a dip at this time of the day, yet he couldn’t even blame the said person, as the weather outside has been nothing but merciless to them.

He leaned himself over the edge someplace almost hidden, not wanting his presence to be acknowledged just yet as he rests his arms atop of it. His slate blue eyes are quite sharp and observant, clearly now having different thoughts as he sees the person in the pool, yet none of them has any.. Unholy intentions, dare he say, but rather, one gaze that is filled with pure adoration and silent amazement. 

The sunbeams from above seemed to have touched your face perfectly, which made your expression to appear more serene in a way. Your now wet hair flows down so beautifully, as if you originally belonged in a portrait that’s being highly revered and taken care of– or that’s how he told himself to be, at least.

His thoughts never lied to him, because why would he?

Claudio begins to feel some sort of a strange sensation within his heart– has he been living in a certain darkness for all this time? His throat feels dry, his mind goes hazy for a while there. He has always been a man who's focused solely with his own assigned duties naturally; all the while, trying to avoid any potential distractions within his line of work.

But the sight he’s witnessing right now made him really think deeply. Has he never seen you being all relaxed and ethereal like this? You did it all so effortlessly, which made him possibly be baffled with his own actions if you ever caught him watching you like this.

Without moving away from the spot just yet, the Italian exorcist moves his hand in a smooth fashion– creating something rather unexpected, yet beautiful for anyone who’s able to see it. A small, blue butterfly begins to emerge out of nowhere; glowing vibrantly as it follows the magic flow from his hand, flying discreetly towards where you are. 

The seemingly glowing butterfly gracefully glides across your features, immediately catching your attention as he intended. He watched, as it landed just on your cheek nicely, making you look even more divine from his perspective. It compliments your features so well, which makes his heart swell. 

Claudio has not experienced these types of feelings for a long time now, and he wants– no, needs to keep feeling it deeply within his heart, if he were so bold to say. A warm, genuine smile made its way to his handsome face, wanting to let the scene unfolding ahead of him to be engraved within his memories alone.

The way you smiled as the butterfly flew around you– it is something that he didn’t want to ever forget. Sure, you are his confidante, but your smile alone is enough to send his heart beating so rapidly, as if you are his lifeline. Claudio didn’t even remember when was the last time he’s able to observe you properly like this, without any work-related distractions.

The feeling just escalates even further as he sees how gentle you are, cradling the butterfly on the palm of your hands with an expression of pure awe. He could admit he had feel.. Something, within him– a type of feeling that he ever tried to shut it away from.

When the butterfly has gradually flown away, his smile remains– clearly still mesmerized by the genuine actions you’ve portrayed. It’s beginning to feel a bit funny for him since he doesn’t want the feeling to stop just yet–

“How long have you been standing there, Signore Claudio?”

Has he been stuck within his own train of thoughts for that long? It startled him slightly when your mere voice managed to pull him out from his own little world; now realizing that he has finally been caught. But that’s like the least of his worries at this point.

You have propped one of your hands up by the pool’s edge, placing your head atop of it with an amused expression. Somehow, he doesn’t know how, but you looked even more.. Attractive, looking at him that way. So his smile returned without any ounce of hesitation present.

“I’ve been here for a while now, cara.”

His reply was simple; quickly being followed by the temporal lingering silence between the two of you. But this only made your curiosity grow, tilting your head slightly as you added more words to your previous question even more.

“Have you, really?”

A small smirk is present upon your delicate features by now, “Do you know how improper it is to stare at a lady who’s bathing?”

“I’m aware,” he answered with honesty, not even shifting his gaze away from you just yet. “I just couldn’t resist, bella.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, not wanting to admit that those little nicknames he has specifically given to you did make you swoon internally. Claudio has always possessed a certain charm with him– maybe being Italian is one of them– but that’s beside the point. He’s always been this way ever since you decided to work alongside him, so you almost couldn’t tell yourself.

Not even moving away from your current spot, he begins to approach you with several steps closer; eyes not leaving yours as if he’s simply trying to convey his unspoken words from there.

“You sure know how to make a man’s heart throb.”

“Oh, do I?” You tried to mask your surprised expression, giggling a little with the maintained eye contact. “Do I, perhaps, have caught your heart at least, Signore?”

The Italian exorcist stops just not too far in front of you, yet leaving just a few spaces between you both as he kneels in front of you. Without thinking twice, he leans his face just a bit– his heartbeat is so rapid that he’s sure you might be able to hear it if you went a bit closer to him.

His mind is telling him to move away this instant, but his heart tells him otherwise. Perhaps, something just awakened within him, that he just begins to fall into a clear realization? You have been his confidante for years, after all, maybe that’s why he dares to become a little more bold right now.

Maybe you are the lady who was meant to be his equal in a lot of ways. Maybe now he knows what he’s been lacking.

Claudio was unsure yet, but he can tell for one thing– his heart has spoken to him. He knows what he wants, and he’ll try to slowly pursue it.

“Ah, don’t get too close to the waters. Or else, I might have to pull you along with me.” You leaned your head backwards and slightly move away from him, which caught him off guard.

He decided to just follow what his heart tells him. A genuine chuckle escaped from his luscious lips; already feeling even more entertained by the whole ordeal.

“Is that an offer, bella?” His Italian accent is thickening somehow, and deeper as he spoke those words, his smirk reappearing within seconds. “Then, who am I to refuse?”

You had your brow raised, before giggling then returning his smirk in a similar fashion– swimming even further away from him as a way to possibly tease him, “Well then..”

“You know what to do, Claudio.”

mb idk how to properly end it lmao-

@luneariaa do not repost; reblogs are alright. all rights reserved.

[italoniponic]

Hey Cherry today i have decided to show yuu our appreciation for all the bullshit they deal with at NRC by writing some of my personal headcanons about them

(sorry if the formatting and gramnar is bad i am writing this on my phone.)

Mc is a really good teacher because of how often they have to tutor Grim, Adeuce, floyd or anybody really when they need to write an upcoming test or exam and they need or didnt pay attention in class.

Mc is a DIY pro. Ramshackle dorm is akways falling apart due to how old it is so Mc has to repair it everytime something is not working or gets broken.

Mc and Grim arent apart of any clubs cuz Crowley is running them ragged with his personal tasks but they will occasionally pop by a random club and take pictures during their session

Following the previous point. When they went to the pop music club it damn near turned inti a photoshoot wuth Kalim, Lilia and Cater busy posing in different ways and in different outfits(Cater one hundred percent posted all those photos on his magicam account with hashtags like #popmusiclubphotoshoot and # pictures with the boys). When mc went to The film study club they became Vils impromptu cameraman because he decided to hold a theater practice that day (Vils was so impressed with Mc's camera skills he low-key thought of hiring them as his personal cameraman)

Mc is actually really beautiful but because of all the mishaps and their horrible sleep schedule they tend not to look all that amazing that was until Vil decided to hold a live QnA and have Mc work their Camera but because Mc didnt want to embarass Vil they put an actual effort into look nice by putting on their nicest casual clothing and some light make up. Eventually at one point Vil off handedly mentioned that they have somebody working the camera right now which soarked all of his followers pestering him into showing Mc face. After relenting and showing his followers their face they all blew uo his chat witg compliments about hiw pretty and breathtakibg they look and how only Vil could get another model to be his camera man etc. (definetly made mc a regular on his QnA after that)

Mc, Jamil and Ruggie all go to the Mostro lounge every friday night and drink a fae drink that has simikar effects to alochol without all the negative side effects and vent all their frustrations for that week to one another so yeah Mc has drinking buddies.

Mc is actually a lot fitter than they look because of how often they hace to run around nught raven college doing tasks or manual labor it helps keeps them fit.

Mc eats a lot of healthy foods meant for athletes because its cheaper than the other foods and mc is broke.

Speaking of that Mc is constantly broke because they have to a pay for all of the things Grim inadvertently breaks and materials to fix the dorm

Mc spoils grim, like a lot. This is because they know how tough it is bejng a magicless student in a school meant for mages but they know Grim has it just as rough due to him being a mknster so they often spoil him by bejng him premium tuna if their is enough money or buying him the food he wants at the cafeteria etc.

Mc at one pount wanted to renovate the entirety of Ramshackle dorm but didnt go through with it when they realised how much Malleus liked the look and feel of the dorm

Last one for today Grim is the sole reason Mc gets out of bed. Sometimes Mc gets tired. Tired of dealing wuth everyone's problems, tired of alk the scorn and hate they receive from student body and most kf tired kf never knowing when they can go home but when they hear in the early hours of the morning Grim shouting at the ghosts about how he will become the greatest mage of all time and how he will leave his legend in the annals of history. It makes mc realise that Grim has all the same problems as Mc but they don't bicth and whine about it and that gives them the energy they need to get through the day

Anyway cherry I really hoped you like it and if you want i dont mind making a part two of this later down the line.

Anyway goodbye

It was a surprise for me to receive such a good share of hcs for our lovely and hardworking MC/Yuu! Thanks so much, dear. I loved a lot of them actually lol

MC on their teaching skills, how they're getting better at the ghost camera and sometimes they just have fun with it. The bit about how MC, Jamil and Ruggie bond over their work struggles and just go on a relaxing night to talk <3

GIVING GRIM SOME LOVE BC HOW CAN WE NOT??? as much as I don't comment a lot about Grim either in posts or stories, I actually see much of my own cat on him so I would ended up spoiling him a little... but have some fights with him too lmao (that's just me being more of a cat-person)

Grim being a accidental inspiration is something that he probably wouldn't expect much himself lol but makes us think about how after mourning something, we should get up and face the world then again. I mean, it's a natural response to get sad and tired of lot of things but if you don't get over it or do something about it, what will all mean after all? You'll just get tired and nothing will change anyway

Grim going to the mirror and shouting that one meme "DO IT MAKE YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE" and MC, after some good moment of sleeping, is like "well, you heard the monster cat"

oh, dear, I love it! Feel free to drop by again with a part two if you want to. Thank you so much <3

[drabbles-mc]

Catching Feelings

Bishop Losa x Reader

Request from my fave @masterlistforimagines​​: the classic friends with benefits, but someone caught feelings trope for Bish

Warnings: light angst, language

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I didn’t turn this into a smutty request solely because I got super wrapped up in Bish’s feelings haha. Hope y’all enjoy! xo

Bish Taglist: @sincerelyasomebody​​ @sadeyesgf​​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​​ @multiyfandomgirl40​​ @sillygoose6969​​ @queenbeered​​ @louisianalady​​ @gemini0410​​ @paintballkid711​​ @chibsytelford​​ @yourwonkywriter​​ (If you want to be tagged in any of my writing please let me know!)

You were shimmying back into your jeans, trying to pretend that you didn’t feel Bishop’s eyes on you. It was late, and you had an early morning coming up. The thought of prolonging your stay a little bit was tempting, but you knew that you’d pay for it once your alarm went off in the morning. Bishop was lying on the bed, chin resting in the palm of his hand. You did your best not to look at him for too long because you knew that if you did, it would be too easy to talk you into staying.

“You could just stay here, you know,” he offered up with a smile.

You chuckled and shook your head. It wouldn’t have been the first time you stayed over, and if you didn’t have plans the next day you might’ve. “Not tonight, Bish.”

“Suit yourself,” there was a smug grin on his face as he watched you pull a shirt on over your head.

“Can’t make it too easy on you, can I? Takes all the fun out of it,” you winked, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You blew him a kiss before heading out of the bedroom and leaving the house.

He listened intently for the sound of your car starting. When the sound of the engine faded away, he let out a sigh. He sat upright, running his hands down his face. For someone who had thought that the idea of friends with benefits was childish and that he was too old for it, he wasn’t able to say no to you when you had pitched the idea. You both had busy lives that didn’t make it easy to have romantic relationships, and there was no denying the comfort and attraction that was there between the two of you, so it just seemed to make sense.

You weren’t sober when you finally blurted out the idea to him. The two of you were staying late at the clubhouse together one night after a rough couple of days, burning through beer bottles faster than you should’ve been. He’d been flirting with you all night, but that wasn’t something out of the ordinary, and you certainly weren’t the only woman he was flirtatious with. But you noticed that when women tried to push it any farther, he would send them off. He’d do it nicely, but he would make sure they didn’t overstay their welcome.

“How do you not have someone down on lock yet, Bish?” you laughed as you sipped on your beer.

He smiled, shaking his head at you from across the table, “I guess you could say that I am not the easiest man to be with, Y/N.”

“Alright fair. But you never even give these girls a chance to, you know,” you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively, “relieve some of your tension.”

He laughed, “I’m in no position to be having a string of one-night stands. I leave that to the young bucks patching in. They’re young and stupid enough to think it’s a good idea.”

“Hm,” you thought about your response for a moment, “What about a fuck-buddy?”

He raised an eyebrow, “A what?”

You laughed, playfully nudging his shoulder, “You know, a friend with benefits. No strings attached kind of deal, just sex. You get the consistency of one person so you don’t need to worry about getting tested for something every couple of weeks,” you laughed, “Plus, it’ll be with someone that you can actually stand to hang out with once you’re done fucking. Win-win for everybody.”

His eyes searched yours, trying to figure out what your end-goal was with this conversation, “I’m not in my twenties anymore, Y/N. I think I’ve aged out of the friends with benefits category.”

You smirked, slowly running your foot up his leg underneath the table, “I beg to differ.”

And the rest was history. It’d been a few months since that first night and things had been going smoothly. The two of you kept your business private since he was the president of the MC, but you knew that the guys had their assumptions. Neither you nor Bishop ever commented one way or another when they would try to bring it up. You liked the sense of mystery, and the fact that it felt a little bit like a game at times. You’d push boundaries with him every now and then, just to see how worked up you’d be able to get him at the clubhouse without anyone noticing. And for a man who said that he was too old to be friends with benefits, he sure seemed to be benefiting a lot.

His mind raced with the events of the past few months. At first, he was certain that surely it couldn’t be that simple, that the two of you could remain friends and just have sex with each other when it was convenient. But that was exactly what had been happening, and you hadn’t changed the way you treated him at all. He was still your friend, and someone that you valued and respected, but never once throughout the course of the weeks of late-night and post-run rendezvous had you ever tried to pressure him into something more. He was impressed that you were able to compartmentalize so well.

He just wished that he was able to do the same thing.

As the days continued to tick by, he realized that maybe he wasn’t cut out to do the whole friends with benefits thing, but not because it was only something that young people did. He began to think that maybe he couldn’t handle it because the more time that he spent with you, the more times that he got to hold you and kiss you and make you tremble underneath his touch, the more he realized that he didn’t want to just be your friend. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew that he was starting to have feelings for you. There were times in the morning when he’d see you getting dressed and all he could think about was how nice it would be if he got to be with you every morning while you got ready for work, and you’d be there for him every night when he came home after dealing with the club and all the chaos it brought him. His mind would wander off with thoughts of what it would be like to really be with you, to finally settle down, and it was getting harder and harder to pull himself out of those thoughts.

He stared at his phone screen, waiting for your text letting him know that you had gotten home safe. You didn’t live terribly far, but he still wanted to know that you made it okay. He smiled when your name lit up his phone screen, “I’m home. You can go to sleep now”. He smiled as he typed out his reply, “Thank you. Got plans tomorrow night?”

A few minutes passed before your reply came, “Why? Miss me already?”

He paused for a moment, trying to really think out his reply. He was second-guessing everything he said, not wanting to lose you, “Something like that, yea”

“I’ll see if I can clear my schedule for you”

He smiled, deciding to leave it at that. He set his phone off to the side and rolled so that he was staring up at the ceiling. He wondered if you were just really good at pretending that you weren’t starting to develop feelings for him too. When the two of you agreed to this whole arrangement, he worried at first that you had suggested it because you already were falling for him. Now he was thinking that maybe he let his ego get to him a little bit by thinking that and it was coming back to bite him. He sighed, shaking his head at himself as he tried to force himself to go to sleep without dwelling on the fact that his bed felt empty without you in it.

You stopped by the clubhouse after work the next day to see him for a few minutes. He was seated outside on the deck and you plopped down across from him with a smile, “Presidente.”

He smiled at you, “Y/N, didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You laughed, “I told you I’d see if I could clear my schedule for you.”

“Weren’t sure if you were going to be able to follow through,” he watched as you reached across the table and took his beer, taking a sip from the bottle with a smirk on your face.

“I’ll always find a way to make time for you, Obispo,” you gave him his beer back.

He looked at you and he felt his heart pound harder inside his chest. The two of you had agreed that if one of you became uncomfortable with anything about your situation, you’d both back off with no questions asked. He wondered if he should cash in on that clause, but he didn’t want to give up the closeness he got to have with you.

“I actually meant to reach out to you earlier,” he hated the words even as he was saying them, “Some shit came up with the club. Got some stuff we need to handle tonight.”

“Oh,” you’d been looking forward to seeing him again, but you knew that this exact situation was why the two of you had gotten into things in the first place, “okay. Raincheck?”

He nodded, “Yea. Sorry to bail on you.”

You chuckled and shook your head, “No need to apologize,” you stood up from the table and patted his back as you walked behind him, “I’m not your girlfriend, Bish. You don’t have to explain anything to me. Not like you owe me anything,” you leaned down and kissed his temple, “You and the boys be safe out there. Text me when you get home so I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere, alright?”

A small smile crossed his face for a moment, “Alright.”

He watched as you sauntered off and hopped in your car, driving off without giving it another thought. He hated lying to you, but he thought that maybe if he gave him a few days to cool off and get his mind in order, the feelings would go away too. Maybe he was just thinking too far into it. He hoped he wouldn’t be forced to give you up.

A few days passed and you hadn’t heard much from him. You were a little hurt at first, but then you remembered who you were dealing with. He had bigger problems on his plate than budgeting in time to sneak off and hook up with you. It was a little odd only because up until then you two had managed to make things work well and see each other frequently. But it was practically radio silence on his end. You’d text him a couple times a day to make sure he was alright, and his responses were short. You tried to think if you had something to him that would upset him, but nothing was coming to mind.

You parked your car and made your way over to the office, hoping that Chucky would be there and know where the guys were. Bishop had blamed his curtness and inability to see you on club shit, and you were starting to question just how honest he was being with you about it all.

Chucky’s face lit up when you walked into the office, “Y/N, what a pleasure it is to see you.”

You smiled, “Pleasure’s all mine, Chucky,” you drummed your fingers on the counter, “Bishop around?”

“El Presidente?” he nodded, “I believe they had Templo. Might be done by now, though.”

“Thank you. Stay handsome,” you shot him a wink as you walked out of the office and made your way to the clubhouse.

You walked in, scanning over the room to see where everyone was at. Sure enough, you saw Bishop sat at the table with Hank and Taza. The three of them seemed awfully relaxed for a group of men who had apparently been incredibly wrapped up in stressful club shit for the past week. You walked over to the table with a smile, not wanting to make things weird.

“Hey boys,” you rested one hand on Bishop’s shoulder.

“Y/N,” Taza offered you a warm smile, “good to see you. We’ve missed you lately.”

You chuckled, wishing you could see what Bishop’s face looked like, “Yea, sorry, just been a little crazy on my end lately,” you tapped your fingers onto Bishop’s shoulder, “Can I borrow you for a second, Pres? Something I need to talk to you about.”

He cleared his throat, and you could feel his body tense underneath your hand, “Uh, yea, of course,” he stood up and nodded towards Templo, “This way.”

You flashed the other two men a smile and a wave before walking towards the back room, Bishop right on your heels. He slid the door shut behind him and did his best to avoid making direct eye contact with you as the both of you stood there.

“So,” you leaned back against the table, “how are things?”

“Things are…fine,” his eyes were glued to the ground.

“Oh? Are they? I wouldn’t know. I’ve hardly heard from you in a week.”

“You said it yourself—I don’t owe you anything.”

You scoffed and shook your head, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“What? I thought this was supposed to be no strings attached.”

“Yea, but you’re still my friend. Even before we started hooking up I at least felt like I could have a conversation with you that didn’t feel like I was pulling your fucking teeth,” you waited for him to finally look you in the eyes, “Did I do something? If you don’t wanna hook up with me anymore just say it. Don’t try to ice me out—I deserve better than that. I told you from the jump that we could go back to being friends with no questions asked. I’m not gonna hold it against you if you’re over this whole thing.”

He saw the look on your face and he knew that you meant every word that you said, and it hurt. He didn’t want to admit it, but he didn’t want you to be able to give him up that easily.

After a long minute of silence you spoke up again, “Be real with me, Obispo. Do you still want this?”

He shook his head, “No.”

It stung, but you weren’t going to go back on your promise—you weren’t going to hold it against him, “Alright. That’s all you had to say. We good? I don’t want shit to be weird from here on out,” there was another long stretch of silence and you could feel the frustration bubbling up inside you. you had assumed that Bishop would be able to be a little more mature about the whole thing, especially since he was the one who was breaking it off, but apparently you were wrong. Men really didn’t mature more as they got older. You shook your head, “Fuck, Bish. I really thought that we were going to be able to be adults about this. Sorry I bothered.”

You turned on your heel and made your way towards the door. Before you could grab onto it and slide it open, he finally forced himself to speak up, “Hey, wait.”

You turned with a sigh, “What?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Yea, you made that pretty fucking clear already.”

“No,” he closed the space between you and you could feel the heat radiating off of him, “I mean, I can’t do this with no strings attached. I thought that I could. Honestly, I thought that you were going to be the one that got wrapped up in your feelings.”

You smirked, “Cocky, but continue.”

It got him to smile a little bit, “But I could see it in your eyes that you were true to your word. You were completely detached from everything between us. And I was too, at first. But, fuck, Y/N, somewhere along the way I stopped caring about just the sex. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. But the way I felt when I would see that you were calling me, or when I would hear you walk through my front door when you knew I’d gotten home from a run? I knew that had nothing to do with friendship, or sex. And the way I hated every time you’d get dressed and leave and I knew that you were going back to your own empty bed while I was lying in mine drove me insane. I hate it,” he took a deep breath, “I wasn’t ready to give you up. If the only way for me to have you was like this, then I was willing to do that. But it kills me to know that I want more, and you are content with what we have.”

He threw a lot at you all at once, and your brain was still trying to process it all. The idea of being in a relationship with Bishop had crossed your mind on numerous occasions. You never let it linger though, not when you knew what kind of life he led and the kind of man he was. If you thought that he would’ve been game for a relationship right out the gate you would’ve said something. This was a development that you hadn’t seen coming. The only reason you didn’t get twisted up about your arrangement was because in your mind, there was no alternative. You were either friends who were having sex, or you were just friends. There was never anything on the other side of the spectrum, or at least that’s what you had thought.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you finally asked.

“I am now.”

“Obispo, listen, I don’t think there’s anyone in the world that I respect more than you. You’re my best friend, and these past few months have been insanely fun. I’ve loved being able to spend so much time with you. I like who I am when I’m with you. If you wanted something more you should’ve just said something—we’re both adults. I’d like to think that we could handle that conversation.”

“I didn’t want you to shut me out if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“You really think I’d do that?”

He paused, shaking his head, “No.”

You cupped his face in your hands, “So, what exactly do you want from me, Obispo?”

He rested his hands on top of yours, “I want you to give me a chance to really be your man. All the time, not just on late nights and weekends,” he scooped you up so that your legs were wrapped around his waist as he held you up, “Could you do that for me?”

You laughed, nodding as your hands rested on the back of his neck, “I think I could do that.”

He walked over and set you down on the edge of the table. You unhooked your legs from around him so that he was now standing between them. He leaned in and brought your lips to his. The kiss was soft but still needy, and in that moment you wondered how you hadn’t seen this coming all along.

He rested his forehead against yours, “I don’t think I’d ever be able to give you up.”

You smiled, reveling in the feeling of his hands on your waist, “I don’t think I’d ever ask you to.”

You felt him laugh quietly as he nuzzled his face into the side of your neck. You smiled, biting back a giggle as his beard tickled your neck. He kissed your throat gently as he leaned into you. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in close to you, one hand resting gently on the back of his head. A smile crept across your face as you felt him let out a long, relieved sigh as he ran his hands up and down your back.

“Can we go back to your place?” you said after a few minutes of silence between you.

He pulled back and looked at you with a smile, “I’d like that.”

You leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, “I’ll even spend the night this time.”

He chuckled, “Oh yea?”

You hopped down off the table and tugged him towards the door, “Yes. You’re in for a long night, Obispo.”

He shook his head with a smile, “I don’t doubt it.”

[justthehiddleswrites]

Follow My Lead | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 4 | I don’t think you are supposed to giggle at Tolstoy.

A/N: This will update every Thursday.  There are 13 chapters.  There are all sorts of kinds of D/s relationships.  This is the one I choose to write this time.  

MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Vivian Swann)

Summary: Tom and Vivian have both been unlucky in love, searching for something outside of the bounds of a typical relationship.  When the two of them connect via a dating app, Tom is introduced to the idea of being submissive to Vivian.  Which is the one thing he never knew he needed.  Under the firm hand of Vivian, Tom learns what it means to submit and Vivian learns what it means to be in a loving dominant relationship.  But not everyone seems to understand what they have and the best intentions can destroy the strongest relationship.

Warnings for story: Dominant/submissive relationship (sub!Tom), lots of smut including but not limited to: vaginal sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), edging, denial, teasing, use of restraints, spanking, multiple orgasm, anal play, use of toys.

Tag Lists Are Open!  Let me know if you want to be added.  Thank you for reading!

-

Tom slept like a rock that night. The best night’s sleep in a long time. He dreamed of Vivian, kneeling on his chest, kissing him, teasing him, biting him. And he woke that morning with his cock hard and leaking. He stroked himself as he thought about Vivian. But not in the way he usually did. Instead of fantasizing of her touching him, sucking his cock, jerking him off, Tom closed his eyes and imagined his lips on Vivian’s folds and clit. Her hands in his hair tugging his head where she wants it. Vivian moaning in response to his touch, his tongue. As her pleasure increases, Tom’s motions in real life increased. Tom came with a soft gasp, spurting along his torso. He panted, trying to catch his breath. Once he regained his composure, he headed to the shower to clean himself up and go for a jog.

-

Vivian rapped her nails on the desk in her flat. Her email open on the screen. She was drafting the proposed protocols for Saturday to Tom, and she contemplated on how far to push him. So far, Tom exceeded all Vivian’s expectations. Which worried her. In the past, all men have been eager to please, at first. But once the shiny new wore off, and the men realized the relationship wasn’t about her fulfilling their fantasies of kinky sex and it was about surrendering to her authority, they ran. Sometimes without further word. It wasn’t the incompatibility that bothered Vivian, but the coldness in which they communicated it. As though she was without feeling or emotion. This caused her to assign the reading at the beginning, to move more cautiously. And she wasn’t sure if her heart could handle a rejection from Tom.

With a sigh, she typed out to Tom:

This is a date for the sole purpose of kissing. No food, no drink, no chitchat, no reading, no hanging out.

In short: Kissing, petting, stroking and all the things come along with that- yes. Talking, sex, orgasms- no.

Here is a list of what may happen, not what will happen. If anything bothers you or off limits, let me know.

- Kissing, obviously. Let me know of any spots that are off limits.

- Shirt off

- Pants off (underwear on)

-Nudity (you, not me)

- Kneeling

- Blindfold

- Light bondage (cuffs- both wrists and ankles, tied to the bed)

- Biting

-Bruises on your body (both in places normally covered by clothing and places it would be visible such as the neck)

- All over body touching (let me know of body parts off limits)

- All over body licking (same as above)

- Roles reversed (you touching/licking me)

- Hands around your throat (gentle not choking)

- Hair pulling

- Fingers in your mouth (not gagging)

- Body-slapping

- Pinching

And I think I covered everything. Wear a button-down (I like when you undo the top few buttons) and jeans or slacks. Send me a photo of what your current underwear options are. I will send you your address that morning. I expect you at 7.

Vivian

She smiled as she re-read the email. She buzzed with anticipation at the possibilities of Saturday night. Vivian was certain she would cuff and restrain Tom, and not just because he had the tendency to squirm underneath her. She suspected it would push a button and was eager to test her theory. She hit click and headed off to work.

-

Tom was eating breakfast, having finished his morning run when his phone dinged with a new email from Vivian. He read through her email and swallowed hard. The list was extensive. He re-read before finishing up breakfast and heading upstairs and digging through his underwear drawer. Tom had three options laid out on the bed. He snapped a photo of them laid out on the bed. He examined the photo, unhappy.

“Might as well.” he commented to himself as he stripped down and pulled on the first pair, navy boxers.

Tom stood in front of the full-length mirror in the closet and snapped a photo. He hated to admit he may have flexed a bit in the photo. He repeated the process with the white underwear briefs, and the black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Pleased with the photos, Tom typed back to Vivian.

Wow, that is quite the comprehensive list. I appreciate the thoroughness and the bullet points. I am not scheduled for any meetings until Wednesday, so any marks will have faded by then. My feet are ticklish. Probably shouldn’t tell you that. ;) And I would rather not have my armpits or the inside of my ears licked. Otherwise, I am game for whatever you want.

I have attached photos of the underwear, per your request. And if there is anything else I can do to be of service, please let me know, ma’am.

Your sunshine boy,

Tom

He attached the photos and sent the email and then returned to dressing for the day, flopping on the bed to return the last two books on his list before starting his essay.

-

Vivian was pleased Tom modeled the underwear rather than just lay them out of the bed. She probably would have directed him to model them. She wrinkled her nose at the first pic and flicking through the rest.

Black boxer briefs. Burn or throw away the tighty whities. If I find a pair in your home, I will punish you. Let’s change our night time call to 9:00 p.m. from now on. I hate keeping you up so late.

She placed the phone down on her desk. It buzzed almost immediately.

Consider them burned. 9 p.m. works for me, although I don’t mind waiting up if it means I get to hear your voice. :) I shall wait with bated breath until Saturday.

-

The rest of the day seemed to fly by for both of them and before long, Tom was settled into bed with both his books of collected poetry and Anna Karenina. He called on time and Vivian asked for him to read more of Tolstoy. He started doing voices of the characters, in particular an exaggerated Russian accent for Levin and Vronsky.

“I don’t think you are supposed to giggle at Tolstoy.” Vivian commented after one particularly dramatic passage.

“I’m a full service entertainer. Comedy, drama, action, romance.” Tom teased back.

“What about erotica?” she teased right back, her voice low.

Tom paused. “For you? Without question.” She could hear the hesitation, fear, and excitement in his voice. She hoped it would remain.

Vivian sighed. “I think it is enough reading for tonight. I want you to get a good night’s rest for tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am.” he responded.

“Goodnight, Tom, my sunshine.”

“Goodnight, Vivian.”

They ended the call, and both drifted off to sleep.

-

Vivian attended her weekly blowout appointment, not realizing Tom spent the day as a bundle of nerves. He ran ten miles hoping to burn off excess energy. It didn’t work. The only thing he did was finish the last of the books from Vivian’s list. The fastest ever read through anything in some time. He was too distracted to write his essay, thought swirling in his brain. Tom wants it to be perfect. He wants everything to be perfect for Vivian.

Tom must have tried on at least six different shirts, each discarded on the bed as unsuitable. He settles on a soft, well worn light blue shirt. One of his favorites. The collar is fraying at the corners, which is why he doesn’t wear out as much anymore, favoring instead newer but less comfortable shirts. He grabbed a pair of jeans only to notice a hole on the inside of the thigh and discarded them also on the bed, grabbing a different pair. Tom left the top two buttons undone, a calculated air of casual. A quick dab of cologne and then he waited, not wanting to arrive too early.

-

After her morning errands, Vivian ate a light lunch and set about preparing her flat for Tom. She made up the bed with fresh linens and double checked the restraint points on the posts. She hadn’t decided on a leg position, so Vivian placed straps on all the corners as well as the point in the middle. Vivian opened the nightstand and retrieved the cuffs, adjusting them and placing them prominently in the foyer on a table. Cuffing Tom would be among the first things she did that night. In addition, she laid out a blindfold on the nightstand and put a bottle of water there too. After bathing, she slipped into a simple silk tank and striped shorts. She wore the same wedges as before. Vivian enjoyed looking Tom in the eye while standing and kissing. A quick dab of perfume behind the ears and settled on the couch, watching some TV waiting for Tom.

He knocked on her door, ten minutes early. Acceptably early without fear of being so early that he disturbed preparations.

“I couldn’t wait any longer.” Tom commented.

Vivian giggled. His eagerness was endearing. “I’ll allow it. Come in.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped into her flat, looking around in wonder. Vivian grabbed him by the chin and kissed him hard.

“Do you still remember your word, sunshine?”

“Yes.” Tom is already breathing hard. “Sushi.”

She smiled and slid her hand down around Tom’s neck. His Adam’s apple moving underneath her palm. His eyes widened in fear. Vivian kissed him again. He leaned forward when she stepped back. She walked around him, fingers tracing the planes of his body, his broad shoulders, defined pecs and abs. Vivian gave his ass a playful swat. Tom yelped and staggered forward.

“Such a nice ass, sunshine.” She growled in his ear, grabbing it with her nails.

“Thank you, ma’am.” his voice shook. He wasn’t used to being manhandled, and his cock appreciated the rough touch.

“Shirt and pants off.” She stepped back to watch him undressed.

Tom’s cheeks blushed. He had been nearly nude in a room of strangers before, but under Vivian’s glare, he never felt so exposed. Tom tugged his shirt over his head, not bothering to undo the buttons this time. He folded the shirt, placing it on the nearby table while he slipped his shoes and socks off, and slipping his jeans down his lean legs. Vivian licked her lips at Tom in his underwear. While the man appeared fit clothed, he was something carved from marble without the clothes. He flashed a lopsided smile as he placed his jeans on top of his shirt and folding his hands in front of him, obscuring his crotch.

“God, you are beautiful.” Vivian hissed as she stepped forward to kiss him again. Tom hummed back at the praise, his body growing warm. She nipped at his lower lip, nibbling rather than biting, sending shocks through his body. “Wrists, please.”

Vivian moved to the table. Tom’s arms shot out. She grabbed the leather cuffs and put them on. Tom jerked back his arms.

“What are those?” His brows furrowed.

“Cuffs. Wrists.” Her tone sharp. Tom hesitated, his mouth opening to protest. “Sunshine, wrists.” she snapped.

“Yes, ma’am.” He reluctantly held out his wrists. She tightened the cuffs, making sure they wouldn’t chafe.

Tom twisted his wrists back and forth, testing out the weight and listening to the rings thudding against the thick leather. Vivian kissed him again, hands sliding down his torso. His cock jumped. She grabbed the back of his neck and led him towards the bedroom. Tom gulped at the blindfold and straps.

“Ah…” he started before being cut off by Vivian’s lips on his neck. “Oh!” he moaned. She laved and sucked hard, removing her lips with a pop, satisfied at the dark mark already formed.

“On the bed, sunshine. On your back.” Tom scrambled onto the bed, lying flat on his back. As Vivian slipped the cuffs on Tom’s ankles, he jerked back. She raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

She slipped her shoes off and then hooked his ankle cuffs to the straps in the middle of the bed. As Vivian strolled to the head of the bed, she ran a nail up Tom’s leg. He jerked against the restraints. She grabbed his arm and clipped it onto the strap before crawling onto the bed, reaching over to clip in the other side, her breasts grazing Tom’s body. His hips bucked.

“So squirmy, sunshine. Best I did tie you up.” Vivian straddled his chest, pushing him into the mattress. “I can’t let you get away just yet.” She pressed against his lips softly, earning a sigh. Her teeth worried his lower lip.

“Ow.” he mock protested.

Nevertheless, Vivian let go of his lip and trailed down his neck. She licked the bruise from earlier before moving down to his collarbone. Vivian sucked and nipped, leaving the twin to the neck’s bruise there. She smiled at her handiwork. Tom struggled against the restraints.

“They have held stronger men than you, sunshine.” Vivian dragged her nails down his sides, leaving faint lines. As she settled by his hips, Tom’s cock pressed against her. Tom huffed and puffed as she kissed his Adonis belt, scraping her teeth along his skin from time to time. Her hands stroked along his thighs and he flexed under her touch.

She slid off of Tom’s body, and he whined at the lack of contact. Vivian rolled back on top of Tom, lying along his full body like a blanket. Tom sighed at the weight and contact. She pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to his heart race. She snaked a hand to the back of his head and jerked his head sideways before kissing him. Tom met her lips with hunger and he whimpered each time she pulled away, only to tug him towards her again. He strained against the restraints, desperate to touch her, to pull her tight against him and rut against her. His tongue slipped into her mouth, needy, exploring every inch. He moaned as Vivian’s grip tightened on his hair, hurting, but he wanted more.

Vivian could sense Tom coming close to overheating, making a mess and complicating the hell out of this. His cock strained, hard and weeping. She pulled away, holding his lower lip between her teeth as long as possible, stretching it.

“Ow.” Tom muttered.

Vivian slid down to press against Tom’s side. She cupped her cheek before gently kissing behind Tom’s ear. Tom moaned softly from the back of his throat. Her fingers twisted into his hair and she massaged his scalp. Tom’s shoulders relaxed and his hands loosened from the fists. As she scratched and petted him, he leaned into her touch, his breath slowing to a deep and even pace. He closed his eyes, enjoying the soft touch.

“You are so beautiful, my sunshine.” She cooed at him. Her other finger tracing his jaw and cheekbone. “So pretty.” She kissed his cheek and stroked his chest.

“Thank you, ma’am.” His voice breathy and floaty.

Vivian reached over and unhooked Tom’s wrist. She turned and unhooked his other wrist. Tom didn’t move. She stood to unhook his ankles.

“Legs up, please.” Tom lifted his legs into the air. Vivian undid the cuffs, rubbing the skin and massaging it. She kissed the top of his feet and Tom giggled and squirmed. “You weren’t joking about being ticklish.”

“No, ma’am.” He slowly floated back to reality.

“Sit up, please.” Tom rocked up, his hair a rumpled mess, and held out his wrists. Vivian smoothed out his hair and held the back of his neck while she kissed his cheek and lips a few more times. She released him and unbuckled the wrist cuffs, rubbing his wrists and kissing each one and placed them on the nightstand and grabbed the water bottle, handing it to Tom.

“Thank you.” He opened the bottle and took a large swig. Vivian smoothed his hair back one more time.

“Let’s go get dressed, sunshine.” He sighed, taking another swig of water before standing. Vivian slipped her wedges back on and walked beside Tom, rubbing his neck the entire time. “I was a bit rough on you. Are you okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice quiet while he grabbed his jeans and tugged them on before pulling on his shirt, tucking it and zipping up.

“How did it feel? I imagine you are used to being treated with kid gloves.”

Tom pulled on his socks and shoes, working on finding the right words.

“I don’t quite know how it felt.” Tom replied, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “But I know I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t mind the pain. I wanted to touch you and make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

Vivian smiled and pulled him into a hug, squeezing him tight. “Sunshine, I feel good. I received great pleasure at teasing you.” She kissed him. “With my mouth. And watching you squirm and hearing you purr.” She petted the back of his head. “But I appreciate your desire to please me physically. And you will when the time comes.”

Tom stared at her with his endless blue eyes. “When will that be, ma’am?”

“When you’re ready, Sunshine.” She kissed his cheek. “You still haven’t finished your homework first.”

Tom’s hands fidgeted, twisting in front of him. “I finished all the books. I plan on starting the essay tomorrow.” He stared at the floor. “I want it to be perfect.”

“As long as it is from your heart it will be, my sunshine boy.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I don’t ask for perfection, just effort.”

Tom nodded and squeezed her hand back. “Yes, ma’am.”

She walked him to the door, kissing him one more time. “Call me in the morning when you wake up.”

Tom nodded. “Thank you for tonight.”

“You are welcome. The pleasure was mine.”

Tom smiled and kissed Vivian’s cheek and headed out. She clicked the door shut and set about cleaning up the place. Tom came home and ate a sandwich before turning in early that evening, his brain still fuzzy.

-

As requested, Tom called in the morning, still in bed, to check in with Vivian. It pleased her that outside of the marks on his neck and collarbone, Tom was no worse for wear. Tom left out the part of the dreams he had or the fact he woke up with a raging hard on which Tom took care of in the shower, skipping his run for thirty minutes on his long neglected rowing machine.

Tom lazed about for most of the morning, having something akin to a hangover without the benefit of being drunk beforehand. As he sat down at this computer to start his essay for Vivian, there was a knock on the door. He groaned as he trudged to see who would dare disturb his lazy Sunday.

A smiling Benedict greeted him at the door. When he saw Tom in workout gear, he frowned.

“You’re not dressed!” he complained.

“For what?” Tom blinked back at him. He didn’t recall making plans.

“Lunch!” Benedict stepped in the foyer. “We made plans weeks ago. I’ll wait for you to change.”

Tom was ready to protest, but Ben crossed his arms and it was clear he wasn’t leaving without Tom. With a huff, Tom discarded his clothes into the bedroom which now had a small pile of discarded and dirty clothes, and grabbed an old gray v neck t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Shoving his feet into a pair of boots, Tom stomped back to Ben, pushing past him.

“Let’s go.” Tom grumbled.

Tom’s mood improved once he ordered some food and got half a pint into his system. Benedict stared at him, squinting.

“What?” Tom asked, still irritated.

“What is that on your neck?” He pointed at Tom’s neck. Tom twisted it, and then Ben spied the second mark on his collarbone. “And your chest? Were you attacked?”

Tom touched his collarbone and remembered. He blushed. “It’s nothing. Forget it.” He gulped down the other half of his pint and stood. “Let me go get another round.”

Benedict held out his arm to stop Tom. “It’s like you were bitten by someth… Oh… OH!” The lightbulb went off. “Things going well with Vivian?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He sidestepped Ben’s arm and grabbed another pint before returning to the table.

“Care to share?” He prodded.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Moving on.” Tom grew more homicidal by the second.

Benedict clapped his hands together. “Remember how Sophie wrangled me into serving on the children’s hospital charity board?”

“Yes.” Tom saw the Cheshire Cat grin on Ben’s face. “No. No! I went last year and got cornered by that old lady who kept calling me ‘Henry’.”

“It was endearing.”

“It was ridiculous.”

“There’s an open bar.”

“Hard pass.”

“I have two tickets. You can bring Vivian.”

Tom stared at his friend. “I am not introducing you to Vivian.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like her and I’m afraid you will scare her off.”

Benedict scoffed. “I have never…” He clutched his chest in dramatic fashion. “… never scared anyone off.”

“Alice, Catherine, Eva…” Tom counted off on his fingers. “… I can go on.”

“None of them met my high standards. Please come.” he begged. “Sophie will kill me if you don’t come.”

“The thought of your death is tempting.”

The waiter set the food down.

“Tom…” Benedict dropped all pretense. “… please come. I promise I will be on my best behavior.”

Tom’s head dropped. “Give me the details. I will check with Vivian tonight when I call her.”

Benedict’s lips pursed. “Really? I can’t wait to meet her. Especially someone who leaves marks like that on you. Sounds like she is yours for the taking.”

“Yeah.” Tom mumbled as he took a bite of his food.

-

Tom called her at 9 p.m. like always.

“Sunshine, how was your Sunday?” she asked.

“Speaking of that…” Tom started, and she noticed the nerves in his voice. “What are you doing next Friday evening?”

She thought about it for a moment. “I believe I’m free. Do you have any ideas?”

Tom exhaled sharply. “I’ve been invited to a charity event by Benedict and I have two tickets, and I was wondering if you would like to come with me.” He blurted it all out in one big run-on sentence.

Vivian paused before laughing. “Wow, you were really nervous about that, weren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything is still so new and I don’t… I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You are just the sweetest, sunshine. You know that right? Beautiful and sweet. Yes, I will go with you.”

Tom beamed. “How would everything work?”

“Like any date would. We go, we drink, we dance and mingle.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, darling. We can set some rules that work for both of us. okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now, read to me please.”

Tom grabbed the book.

-

Tom and Vivian agreed he would pick out three outfit options, but Vivian would come over ahead of time and make the final choice. They would not use pet names and instead would do what is natural. Tom asked that she still rub the back of his neck.

“It calms me down.” he commented.

“Of course, sunshine. I like when you are calm. You are more attentive that way.”

It was now the day of the event and Vivian sat on Tom’s bed, noticing the clutter. Tom was modeling the second outfit.

“I don’t like the tie. Let’s see the last one.”

Tom undid the tie and shirt and grabbed the last option. It was a double-breasted blue pinstripe suit with a blue shirt and navy tie. He did a little spin.

“That one.” Vivian stood and straightened his tie and petted his neck before squeezing his ass. “Your ass looks amazing in those trousers.”

Tom blushed again. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She kissed his cheek, wiping away her gloss. “Remember, no names, now let’s go.”

-

Tom was more at ease with Vivian by his side. Her reassuring touch at the back of his neck or even his shoulder grounded him. Not to mention, she dazzled everyone she met. Now for the big test.

“Benedict, Sophie, meet Vivian Swann. Vivian meet Benedict Cumberbatch, notorious troublemaker, and his queen of a wife, Sophie Hunter.”

Vivian shook each of their hands, holding tight to Tom’s but leaning in for a kiss on the cheek by Ben. Tom tightened his grip. She suppressed a giggle.

“Charmed. Thank you so much for inviting me. I have been looking into getting the firm involved in more charity work and the children’s ward is an enticing option.”

“Firm?” Sophie questioned.

“Watkins, Price, and Forbes. I work in their corporate law division.”

Benedict let loose a low whistle.

“Tom, you didn’t tell me you were dating a pit bull.” Sophie commented. “Impressive.”

Vivian smiled. “I prefer the term ‘velvet hammer’ but pit bull works. “

“How did you and Tom meet?” Ben interjected.

Tom paled, but Vivian didn’t miss a beat.

“The Bloomsbury Club. We bonded over a shared loved for Macallan 18-year-old aged whisky.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Right. Why don’t we take a seat?” He gestured at their reserved table.

“Your feet must be killing you in those shoes, Vivian. After having kids, I just can’t stand wearing them, but if I want to see eye to eye with this one.” She gestured at Benedict.

“Guilty.” He shrugged. “Although not as tall as the Frost Giant over there.”

Tom paused as he pulled out Vivian’s chair for her.

“I don’t mind the heels.” Vivian responded. “It is all what you get used to. Besides, I enjoy towering over people.” she giggled.

“Champagne?” the waiter offered.

“No, it makes her sneeze.” Tom commented.

“Get me a glass of white wine, please?” Vivian gazed up at him.

Tom smiled down and kissed her cheek. “Yes, of course, darling.”

“Sophie?”

Benedict and Sophie blinked at the two of them.

“Uh… yes a white wine sounds fantastic. Thank you, Tom.”

Tom nodded and headed off to the bar. Sophie elbowed Benedict in the ribs. He shuffled to his feet.

“Tom, let me help you with that!” He called after his friend.

Sophie waited until both men were out of earshot.

“How did you… I don’t want to know. You’re not like Tom’s other girlfriends, Miss Vivian Swann.”

She smiled. “I’m not sure if that is a compliment or an insult. So I will say thank you.”

“Definitely a compliment. There is something different about Tom when he is around you. He seems…”

“… happy?”

“Yes, but the word is content.” Sophie added. “Content, at peace. After that last nasty breakup, the man could use a little peace and quiet.”

“Hopefully not too quiet.” Vivian smirked.

“Are you two gossiping about us?” Benedict teased.

“I was just telling Vivian how happy and content our dear Thomas looks with her.” Sophie quipped.

Tom blushed as Vivian smiled and reached out to rub his neck. “I am. Thank you for noticing Sophie.”

-

The evening wound down. Tom for once enjoyed the event. Vivian won over Benedict and Sophie, so much so that Sophie invited her to go shopping tomorrow afternoon while she wrangled Benedict and Tom in tearing down a shed in Ben’s yard.

“Leave them to grunt work while we shop.”

“I would love to.” Vivian sipped at her wine.

The two couples said goodbye while waiting for the valet. Benedict hugged Vivian tight and kissed her cheek. While Sophie and her exchanged numbers. Benedict pulled Tom to the side.

“There’s something different about you, man.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m still me.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“No,” Ben folded his hands in front of his face. “there is definitely a change. And I think it has something to do with that enchanting woman over there, who I am sure is being tortured with baby pictures by my wife.”

“Perhaps.” Tom replied cryptically.

“Don’t fuck it up man. You will never find another girl…”

“Woman.” he corrected his friend.

“… Woman like her. You deserved a little happiness.”

“Tom?” Vivian placed her hand on his back. “The car’s here.”

“Of course. Ben.” He shook his friend’s hand and then hugged Sophie before opening the door for Vivian and then getting in and driving off.

-

“I’m going to head home.” Vivian stated when they got back to Tom’s home.

“Okay. I had a lot of fun tonight. It wasn’t nearly as dreadful with you there.”

“Your friends are a delight. They really do want the best for you, sunshine.”

Tom smiled at the name. “Yes, ma’am.” He fell back into the old pattern.

She grabbed the back of his head and tugged him into a kiss. Tom wrapped his arms around her and did his best to hold her tight. She pulled away, and he whined.

“I’m ready to take this to the next step, Vivian. I want to please you.” His hands ghosted over his shoulders. “In all ways.”

She smiled. “Send me the essay and we will talk. How about lunch tomorrow?”

“I will send it as soon as I step inside. I could cook you lunch here.”

“I would like that, sunshine.” She kissed him one more time. “Sleep well.”

“Yes, ma’am. You too.”

She smiled and walked to her car to head home. Tom stepped inside and rushed to his computer. He did a quick spell check on the essay he had been tweaking over the last week and clicked send.

“There.”

Vivian laughed as her phone beeped before she even left Tom’s driveway, knowing it was Tom’s homework.

“So eager. I like that.”

[spiritshaydra]

Looks like I haven’t posted art here in months and this is my fourth time trying to add a description to this because it keeps getting purged whenever I switch tabs >:( 

Anywho, here’s some Pokémon gijinkas I finished earlier in the week ^^

Additional info stolen from my amino post down below c:

Howdy!

This took me WAY longer than I thought it would. I started this group back in December, and only now just completed it ^^

I’ll be showing them off in the order I finished them along with some info on each character c:

✨Here they are!✨

🏙 Reshiram 🏙

She’s not as complex as the rest of the batch because she started off as just a headshot test and practice for drawing humans ^^’ then everything else kinda just got more complex. Her design is more of a work in progress than the rest.

She’s a living lie detector :)

🎆 Palkia 🎆

[

She took a LONG time to draw and is probably the most complex. Sorta. She’s also probably one of the first gijinkas I’ve designed so her design is pretty solid for now. She’s based off of Roman gladiators and Valkyries. Palkia is also a total jock with a short fuse that constantly gets in fights with her brother, Dialga. She’s kinda a loud idiot but that’s okay. She’s also very rash and tends to act before thinking. Will kick down doors and attempt to put brother in a headlock. Probably chugs sport drinks and punches drywall. Will challenge poor unfortunate souls into doing arm wrestling matches. Has very strong opinions on science fiction. (Stuff with space is superior!) Curses like a sailor and likes to get creative with insults. Cannot organize things at all. Room probably looks like a bomb went off. Has the worst handwriting in her family. Middle child and the shortest out of her siblings. Is uncomfortable around Giratina but feels bad about it.

🌄 Giratina 🌄

Giratina’s another one that I’ve had designed for a while and am pretty happy about it! I tried to give her a more inhuman and unsettling appearance (gaunt features, pale skin, sunken eyes, long limbs, digitigrade legs, four arms, etc) She’s pale from the lack of sunlight and her hair is borderline uncontrollable. It’s in a constant state of poofy rat’s nest.

Believe it or not, she’s probably the friendliest out of her family despite her off putting demeanor. She completely lacks social skills and is still trying to learn how to speak normally after being locked away for eons. She’s best friends with a Shaymin and has gardening as a hobby. She just really wants friends :( She likes stupid paranormal shows and animated movies. Not violent at all unless provoked. Absolutely fascinated by car windows and toasters. She’s the second tallest and the “baby” out of her family. She wishes to have better relations with her siblings and parent but struggles :(

🌺 Shaymin 🌺

Shaymin. Oh boy Shaymin. So with her I was wanting to do something completely different from the usual Lolita and cutesy based gijinkas. So I made her a punk :) Shay acts like she eats nails for breakfast and isn’t afraid to fight god. She’s short but by god, she’s going to go for the kneecaps. She has a nasty temper and is very protective of her strange noodly demon bestie. Taught her how to garden. She’s loud, argumentative, and ‘Tina’s siblings are probably more scared of her than the Terror of The Distortion World. Does not do well in cold weather. She rides a motorbike, and is the one who generally drags ‘Tina around to get her used to the normal world. Big fan of slasher films and loud aggressive music. Loves nature and is generally enthusiastic about funky plants.

Very short. Very aggressive. Wears stud covered platform boots.

🪐 Arceus 🪐

Oh boy. Arceus.

He was VERY hard to design but I think I’m happy with the results. For now. I wanted him to look somewhat regal and nasty, and not exactly human.

He’s a major asshole, prick, and elitist, and is petty to the highest degree. Got offended whenever someone suggests that he should go to an anger management class. Probably a Karen. He’s the type to wear a fluffy bathrobe while drinking box wine on a lawn chair on the porch to look scornfully at the neighbors whenever they get too close. Not a great parent. (Loves his gaggle of goblins in his own strange way) Kinda hates everyone. Rude. VERY VERY short temper. VERY stubborn. He’s short and is going to make it everyone else’s problem. (Refuses to just... change his height himself. ‘Cause he’s some primordial creation entity. He just... doesn’t) He woke up one morning and just chose violence. takes great pride in his creations. Awful taste in music. No sense of style. Cant dance. He’s offputting and unsettling to be around because he has a very “off” feeling about him. Really really likes to get the upper hand on others. There are a f e w times when he actually acts like a decent person. Likes to put an air of regality onto him even though he’s a total train wreck. Wears three to four inch heels.

🌌 Dialga 🌌

DIALGA. I also wanted to do something different with him! So I made him a nerd. He likes to take things apart and put them back together. Especially clocks. He’s more level headed than his sisters and has a longer fuse than Palkia. But he’s also very stubborn. He’s a total workaholic and perfectionist. He doesn’t sleep much and can be a nervous wreck whenever he’s behind on whatever schedule he runs on. He gets into fights with his younger sister a LOT and will often try to use her as a lab rat. They’re sorta like Yzma and Kronk. But he’s less diabolical and Palkia’s more aggressive. Like Palkia, He also has very strong opinions on science fiction (Stuff with time travel is WAY better!) he’s also very organized if not organized chaos. He wears a heavy pair of boots that one could hear from a mile away. Think large goth boots with metal in the soles somewhere. Also a metal head. He will blast loud metal or rock music (sometimes more classic rock. Depends on the mood) as he works on whatever insane project he decided to tinker on. He has a large collection of very cursed socks. Somewhat poor eyesight. Generally easier to get along with than Palkia who’s more abrasive. He tends to think more before acting upon things. Probably runs on entirely coffee and energy drinks. B A D taste in fashion. But not worse than Palkia. Likes to read. Not very good handwriting. Tends to bump his head on doorframes. Will walk into things if lost in thought. The tallest out of his family and the oldest out of his sisters. He’s somewhat afraid of ‘Tina.

Approximate Time Taken: About 27 hours

Program Used: Procreate

[falquinold]

MY FORMAL DEMAND TO BE GIVEN THE RIGHTS TO (1) JOAQUIN TORRES.      ( AKA - The Big Canon Expansion Post™ )

steve vc: so.... you got played by the writers. you put your trust in them when you probably shouldn’t have. they lured you in with a false sense of security and promises of representation, and then ripped the carpet from below your feet. and the sad thing is... this isn’t the first time. 

hey! stupid opening aside, this is gonna be my explanation of torres’ backstory up to his presence in the falcon and the winter soldier, including the character arc that i believe he would have had if the show had been allowed to keep its original 10 episodes. this is mostly based around my own personal headcanons, so i please ask that you don’t steal or reblog this! 

anyway, putting it under a cut since it’s longer than i thought it’d be!

PART 1: PRE-IW.

like in the comics, joaquin immigrated to the united states from mexico with his mother and grandmother when he was 6 years old. they moved to sonoita, arizona, where they soon found a place to live and started to settle into their new life. while the first half of his school years consisted of him working twice as hard as any of his classmates due to the faults in the american public education system, he eventually shot up the class list, earning his spot as valedictorian by the end of his high school career. 

this caught the attention of multiple military recruiters, who came to his school with hopes of swaying as many teens (specifically teens of color) to join the forces as possible. with promises of great pay, free housing and healthcare for himself and his family, and the opportunity to use his intelligence to help ‘change the world for the better,’ the eager 17-year-old didn’t even have to think twice. that very same week that they showed up at his school, joaquin had taken the asvab test and passed with flying colors, soon putting in his application for the air force academy. 

the next 3 years went by in a flash - joaquin moved out of his home and to the academy in colorado, along with 1000 other teenagers who had found themselves in a similar position. he remained at the top 5% of his class, though all of his studies did nothing to prepare him for the day that thanos and his army broke through the atmosphere.

PART 2: IW --> ENDGAME.

in the 3 years that joaquin had been a student at the academy, the strict schedule of his day had never been broken. however, when the giant spaceship hovered over new york, thousands of students crowded around any available tv to stop and stare. he watched for what seemed like hours, frantically texting his mother to make sure that she and his grandmother were safe back at home in arizona. everyone watched with baited breath, until the students in the mess hall started disappearing. everything went in slow motion after that, with the blaring alarms ringing and the remaining teachers instructing everyone to go back to their dorms. the halls filled with dust and the yells for people that had vanished into thin air. 

calls and texts weren’t going through, and the news stations that everyone had been anchored to soon showed nothing but static. after a day, the school allowed for people to leave, and joaquin took his car and made his way back to arizona as fast as he could. he burst through the doors of his childhood home, to see dust settled on the couch in front of the tv that still blared on. he was alone. 

the few weeks remaining of the school year had been cut short, and in that time joaquin found himself spiraling. at the advice of one of his teachers, he sought out peer counseling, and eventually was able to come to terms with what had happened. at the end of that summer, the true nature of what had happened had finally dawned on the population - the avengers wouldn’t be saving them and their family members. nobody was coming back. the world continued to spin on, and with that, was the air force academy sending for the remaining students to finish out the rest of their time there. joaquin, now a senior and only 21 years old, was left with no choice but to sell his childhood home and pack as many family memories as he could into the trunk of his car, making his way back out to colorado to finish what he had started. 

the school looked like a ghost town, and the air of dread and grief hung around all year. at graduation, there were still the same 1000 seats on the football field. however, half of them remained empty - memorials for the dead scattered amongst the living. 

after graduation, joaquin started his service. he started renting a small one bedroom apartment outside of langley air force base in virginia, where he had been recently stationed. he threw himself into his work, moving up the ranks and proving himself for 4 years, up until the very moment that the dead started coming back to life. he found himself right back at his childhood home, where the new inhabitants had freaked out over the people that had revived themselves in the living room. after realizing what had happened outside, they had allowed them to stay there until joaquin could make his way down to find them. after a series of long hugs and tears shed outside the house that he grew up in, he took them back to his apartment where they tried to make sense of what had happened. 

PART 3: THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER.

six months after the dead had returned, joaquin’s family still lived in his small apartment. it was nearly impossible for anybody to find a new home when half of the world’s population needed places to stay. relieved that his survival meant the avoidance of the rapidly-filling grc camps, he and his family were more than happy to make do with what they had. he’d become the sole supporter of the household at 26 years old as his mother struggled to find somewhere to work, and he yet again poured himself into his own job, but he brought a new sense of optimism into the mix. the family that he mourned for years had returned to him. in his eyes, anything was possible. 

he soon found himself working alongside sam wilson, acting as his ‘boots on the ground’ and as his intel provider for his missions alongside the air force. after a successful rescue of one of his supervising officers from batroc and his crew, he found himself starstruck at what the man was able to accomplish completely on his own. the two quickly bonded and joaquin offered his help wherever he could give it, especially after sam seemed to take an interest in the flag smashers, a group that joaquin had been following since the creation of the grc camps. promising that he’d continue to watch the group’s movements online and notify sam if things started to escalate, joaquin found himself in switzerland just a couple days later, figuring that the best way to get information would be to get in the mix himself. that lands him with a broken orbital thanks to a man that has super strength, hinting at the possibility of the flag smashers being much more than meets the eye.

after the reveal of john walker as captain america, the air force immediately puts both him and lemar on the newly formed flag smasher case. due to his discovery of the group, joaquin is recruited onto the team as the only intel officer, helping to locate any and all information on the group and keep walker and hoskins up to date as they go and try to apprehend them. at the same time, sam is running his own mission on the side, as he’s able to use redwing to track the flag smashers to an abandoned warehouse in munich. joaquin drops everything to fly the plane and take them there. he doesn’t know that the ops department put a hidden tracker inside of redwing, but that revelation makes him start to become weary of them when sam tells him. 

after he returns to langley air force base from munich, he’s immediately spoken to by his superiors. he’s no longer under orders to help sam wilson, as that was a one-time mission to save captain vassant, and is told to instead focus his energy on what he was assigned to - assisting walker and hoskins. he’s not punished for his actions, but there’s a threat should he get caught helping someone with air force resources again. he agrees, though has no intentions on stopping his contact with sam. joaquin calls him after that, letting him know what went down and how he had to be more careful if he wanted to keep being able to help with things. he keeps his head down for a while, just doing what’s asked of him while trying to keep an ear out.

eventually, he’s called by sam and asked to find information on donya madani. he finds out that she and karli were registered at the camp in riga, lativa, and that she appeared to hold a loved position within the community. because of the rising threat of the flag smashers, the air force adds two more intel officers onto the case, which keeps joaquin from being able to delay information from getting to walker. he’s only able to buy sam and bucky a couple hours, before walker and hoskins meet them in latvia and the rest of episode 4′s events unfold. 

joaquin sees the video of the murder in the plaza along with the rest of the world, and immediately watches as the base turns to chaos with the higher ups seeking to take control of the situation. his scene with sam remains the same, and he excitedly picks up the bag with the wings and keeps it in the trunk of his car. he then goes back to dc (?), where walker’s punishments are set to be read to him. as a part of the team, he’s told to stand at the back of the room and bear witness, and he hears the accusations that he spews to the government officials. he doesn’t expect them to make sense, taking the seeds of doubt that had planted themselves after being told to work against sam and sprouting them into a genuine distaste for the air force. 

before he can leave, he’s stopped by the major from the vassant mission, a man that he’s known since his first days out of the academy. he reminds joaquin about the upcoming run of promotions, and how he’s been a first lieutenant long enough to apply for captain if he wanted to. with the reputation that he got after being the one to discover and report about the flag smashers, the major tells him that he was almost guaranteed to make the promotion if he applied for it. with walker’s voice still echoing in his head, and the wings now passed down to him, he hesitates and plays it off as being humble, telling the man that he’ll think about it. 

during the time that passes during the montage, joaquin spends his time trying to locate the flag smashers while fixing his wings in secret back at his apartment, until he finally realizes that their next target is new york. since the wings aren’t finished by that time, he offers to help as himself, pushing the fact that he told sam he was his boots on the ground, and he meant it. meeting them in new york, joaquin worked to evacuate people from the buildings, and was the person to hack into the flag smasher app to apprehend them. he’s also there with the big circle of people as sam has his speech to the government official, a giant smile on his face. it’s in that moment that he makes his decision regarding his promotion - sam was able to help countless more people in just a week (?) than joaquin had in the four years after his graduation from the air force academy. he doesn’t put in an application for promotion, and makes a mental note to leave the air force in the next couple months, once his 5 years of contractual post-grad service are completed. 

a few days later, joaquin video calls sam to show him the fixed wings, extremely proud of himself. sam then starts training him to take over the falcon mantle, and joaquin starts getting accustomed to the superhero world that he’s found himself in and everything that it entails. 

[agoodgoddamnshot]

(Synonyms For) Tired - Geraskier [E]

[gif isn’t mine]

Warnings: Angst, Drug Use, Drug Abuse

Word Count: 7,188

ORIGINALLY POSTED TO MY AO3

“Wouldn’t you just love to punch him in the face?”

The harsh glare of the sun is almost blinding as Geralt glances over, watching Lambert gather his reins and nudge his gelding forward. He snorts and tosses his head, but Lambert quickly corrects him. It takes a moment, but eventually, Niels gives up on his pestering, and arches his neck into his bit.

The man being drenched in Lambert’s vitriol stands in the centre of the arena, hands perched on his hips as he watches each of his horses trot around him. A trained sharp eye watches every step and footfall, the seat of the horses’ riders, and how much rein each of them are being allowed to take. Armoured in a pristine and tailored suit, and glasses perched on the low of his nose, Alfred Pankratz’s ever-watching and judging eyes are never too far away.

Lambert keeps the rest of his words tightly concealed behind clenched teeth, even as Alfred calls out to him. “Tighten up that rein, Blake,” his Redanian-accented voice booms through the indoor arena, even over the rhythmic thumping and snorting of horses.

Gods, he wants to talk back. Geralt barely manages to stop himself from smiling when Lambert huffs out a sharp breath.

Roach floats underneath him; never causing bother or hassle, striding easily around the circuit as if she were in a test. He never needs to tell her to do anything. A small shift in his hands or in his seat will have her collected or extended. She’s always been his favourite mount. If he could afford it, she’d be his. He was here from the moment she was born, and the only one who could ride her properly without being kicked at or thrown off.

Her retirement, maybe. Perhaps he could try and convince the ever-watching yard owner that she deserves time in the countryside, where she can spend the rest of her days rolling around in grasses and chasing sheep in the neighbouring fields.

For now, though, Alfred’s name is on the papers of every single horse here.

His voice cracks across the barn. “One more circuit,” he calls out, arms folding in front of his chest, “and then head out where you need to be.”

Geralt thanks every god he can remember the name of that Lambert’s gelding has the same training schedule as Roach. The pair of them will be taken out on to the sand arena in front of the main house; where the Pankratz wealth can loom over them as a constant reminder of how lucky they are to be employed here.

The pay is good. The pay is great. Every gold piece he earns from his work goes into a separate bank account, stashed away just for him, to buy his own land after he retires. His shoulder twinges as he turns Roach for her final trotting lap of the arena. A retirement may come sooner than later, with every year that passes. Old injuries that he thought had healed and slunk away reawaken, pulling at him in the morning and reminding him throughout the rest of the day that he’s getting older, that he had been pushed and pushed to his limit and beyond it.

Roach snorts underneath him, shaking her head. He settles a hand on to her neck, soothing.

Alfred’s eyes don’t leave them until they break for their own training areas. Some horses linger behind in the arena, prepared to work on their flatwork for the day. Others take a sharp turn out on to the gallops winding out and around the yard.

The sand arena sits behind the Pankratz’s house; a house few of them have even been near, let alone in. Not even Geralt has been inside of it, to the best of anyone else’s knowledge. He has, but he’s not going to go and parade that bit of information around. The house is as drenched in gold as the rest of the yard; a wood and stone mansion sitting on a slight hill, looking over the yard and lands around it as some looming reminder that it’s Pankratz gold that made this place, that keeps them in their own homes and living comfortably.

The back of the house, with tall walls and long lancet windows, with high vaulted roofs, hosts an ample garden and pool and rockery with Mrs Pankratz’s gardens. Alfred’s wife isn’t nearly as firm with them, offering them drinks on hotter days and more breaks between training sessions. Even her face is kinder, with soft eyes and a persistent smile curled along her painted lips as she regards each of her husband’s horses and their riders in the morning warm-up.

Geralt tries to imagine Alfred Pankratz smiling and it threatens to run a shiver through his spine. The only time the man’s steely facade will break is when Geralt brings him home another trophy.

Roach stretches out her neck, walking easily underneath him. Niels bumps his nose to hers as they head to the sand arena, and she snorts. Lambert gathers Niels back. “It’s not you, buddy,” he sighs, patting the gelding on the neck. “She’s just a stubborn cow.”

Geralt bites his tongue just as Roach’s ears flatten back. The only person allowed on her back is him; decreed by both her and Geralt’s boss. Alfred has watched the mare squabble and throw off too many other riders in the yard that he threatened to sell her on. An un-rideable horse wasn’t going to win him any trophies or money, so what good was it to him? Until Geralt climbed on one day, settling a hand on to her neck, and steered her through a good flatwork session – something no one could do with her before.

The sand arena has already been set up. A few stray workers fix the last of the jumps to the appropriate height, checking the strides in between double and triple jumps, and drift towards the edge of the arena. The sand is neatly combed and the trees surrounding one length of the arena are neatly trimmed. Most of the money Pankratz spends is pumped back into his facility, making sure it’s clean and proper for visiting investors and their families.

The house sits above them on a slight hill, and Geralt has grown used to not even acknowledging it. He looks over the arena, at every jump made up, and plots his course for the session. With Roach warmed, she starts picking up her stride, trying to break into a canter as her ears flick and her attention is caught by the high and brightly coloured jumps dotted around the arena.

Lambert keeps to his side. Before Geralt can shake him away, glowering at him to figure out his own path, the man nods at the house. “The trust fund is back.”

Geralt follows Lambert’s eye, brows knitting together at the sight he can just barely make out through the heat haze settling over the yard. Julian Pankratz, stretched out underneath the sun is in an undone sheer button-up shirt, revealing his chest and the dip of his hips. Just barely concealing him is a pair of denim shorts, practically underwear with how tightly they hug his hips and the top of his thighs.

Oxenfurt stole him away for almost a year. Not terribly far away, but enough of a distance for Geralt to notice the quiet left behind after he was gone. Yes, Jaskier Pankratz is a huge pain in his ass, and Jaskier’s sole mission in life seems to be giving Geralt as many grey hairs as possible, but the quiet that followed was deafening.

Lambert chuckles. “Miss him, did you?” he asks, squinting at Geralt’s face. “A hint of emotion almost showed just there.”

If Geralt could kick out at the other man, he would. Or reach across with his crop and leather Lambert across his shoulder. The man sets his heels to Niels’ side, pressing him forward as Lambert shakes in laughter.

His grip tightens on Roach’s reins. The ever-attentive mare snorts, pulling at her bit. Focus. Jaskier might be home, but with Roach threatens to curl around and nip at his toes, he sets her forward into a canter, and looks for his jumps.

Chatter quietens when he steps back into the barn, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and skin cooling the second the barn’s AC blasts him with cold air. Geralt arches an eyebrow at the sight of Eskel and Coën huddled against Scorpion’s stable, the stallion more interested in his haynet to the other corner of his stall, rather than the gossiping riders at his door.

Eskel’s lips thin. Whatever he had been saying is kept tightly behind them. Coën, though, regards Geralt for a moment as he passes, ushering Roach into her stable across the aisle. Roach spits out her own bit, shaking out the arena’s dust and grime from her mane as she pads over to her water trough. Just as Geralt sets his hands to the girth of her saddle, he can feel a pair of eyes falling on to him. “So,” Coën lilts, threading his arms through the stall’s grid and offering Geralt a small smile. “I see that the kid is home.”

Geralt’s lip threatens to lift. “He’s not a kid,” he grunts, undoing the last of the buckles keeping Roach’s tack on her. The moment he strips her saddle off, she does a full-bodied shake. He’ll wash her later, when she’s cooled off by herself and gotten something to drink.

He turns to Coën, the man wearing the same curled smirk on his lips as Lambert. “He’s a year younger than you,” Geralt says stiffly, setting Roach’s saddle on the stall door and threading her bridle over it. If he keeps his eyes on the ground, or making sure that Roach’s trough is refilling with water when she drinks, maybe Coën will go away.

But it’s not looking likely. “Are you going up to him?”

Geralt sighs. “Why?”

“Because you two were very close last summer,” Coën says, albeit a bit more subdued. Music is playing softly overhead, with someone having conquered the speakers and plugged in their phone instead. And the neighing of horses further down the aisle and people chattering among themselves won’t let Coën’s words be heard by any curious ears, but he appreciates the man’s attempt to keep it to themselves. Coën lifts a shoulder. “I thought you might want to, I don’t know—”

Eskel bats him away. Even through the murmur of conversation and horses kicking at their stall doors further down the barn, they can always make out the tell-tale footfalls of Alfred Pankratz. “Bellegarde!”

Even despite the mid-summer heat worming into the barn, despite the AC being blasted overhead, a chill threatens to shake through Geralt at the bellowing of his name down the aisle. Coën and Eskel break away, scampering back to their own horses’ stalls to gather their tack and go anywhere else.

Even Roach flashes him an apologetic look as he takes a steadying breath before stepping out of the stall. Geralt gathers Roach’s things, threading them over his arm, just before he is faced with Alfred Pankratz. “There you are, Bellegarde,” he quips. Spotting the tack on his arm, he waves a hand at it. “Leave that for someone else. Here, let Rhodes handle that. Rhodes! Rhodes, where are you—” Alfred spots Eskel in Scorpion’s stall. He snaps his fingers. “Rhodes, see that this is put way. Bellegarde, come with me.”

Geralt shoots Eskel a soft look before he follows Alfred. A walk towards the gallows if ever he saw one. He keeps his hands by his sides, fingers fidgeting as he wonders why Alfred would ever try to root him out during the day. Near competitions, Alfred will be glued to his side. Ever-watching eyes will only be on him, making sure that both he and Roach are ready for the event.

But now, he thinks back on the last few days and weeks, and he can’t imagine what Alfred could want with him—

Oh.

Geralt blinks at the sight of a familiar grey gelding pawing at the ground, bridled and saddled, and reins threaded over Jaskier’s arm as he fixes his gloves. Geralt’s breath threatens to catch in his throat. His tongue starts to thicken in his mouth, with any words he could say fading away.

Alfred sets a firm hand on to his shoulder. “Now, Bellegarde,” he says stiffly, “my son will be home for the summer and needs a steady hand to get him back into training.”

For all the fear in saying the wrong thing to Alfred Pankratz, his son doesn’t hold the same feeling. Jaskier sighs, something loud and exhaustive. “I don’t need help,” he mutters, reaching up to pull his gelding’s stirrups down. “I can work by myself.”

Alfred’s lip tightens. “Nonsense, boy. How are you going to correct your form if no one is watching you?” He nudges Geralt forward. “If we’re to get you competition ready, you can’t be slouching—”

An argument as old as time, ever since Jaskier was a baby and was put on to a horse’s back by his grandfather. A kinder man, for all that Geralt can remember of him. Pity his son turned out to be such an asshole—

Jaskier is already leading his gelding over to the nearby block, ignoring whatever feely pours from his father’s lips. Geralt is getting almost as good as the other man for ignoring it. Jaskier’s gelding, Pegasus, stands attentively while his rider hops up on to him, settling comfortably on to his back. The last gift to him before his grandfather passed away; a tiny black foal that turned whiter and whiter with every year. A foal that didn’t look like it would ever make anything of itself, but Geralt watched the hours Jaskier put in, and Pegasus can jump and event just as well as the best of them.

Jaskier just doesn’t want to compete.

Alfred grunts. “Go with him,” he waves Geralt away, catching the bridge of his nose before storming back to the barn. Geralt stands there for a moment, fingers fidgeting by his side, before he takes a measured breath and trails after Jaskier.

Pegasus brings them to the arena, and the second he’s inside, Jaskier nudges his heels to his side, and breaks him into a steady trot. Geralt stays by the fence, knowing when he’s not welcomed somewhere but if Alfred Pankratz seems him anywhere else, he’ll be murdered. So he stays, arms resting on the fence as he watches Jaskier send Pegasus down the lines of the arena, turning to do his circles.

And Alfred does have a point. Jaskier’s back has gotten soft, and his shoulders stoop inwards ever so slightly. But his leg and hands are good, as are his silent commands to Pegasus to slow back into a collected walk, or break forward into a canter. As Jaskier comes back from his circuit of the arena, he brings Pegasus from a collected and neat canter into a squared halt. The sand and dust plume away from him as he glowers down at Geralt. “I don’t need you here,” he says stiffly. “So go away.”

Geralt holds his glare. “You know your father will have my head if I leave—”

Jaskier’s lips thin. He gathers his reins, bowing Pegasus’ neck and setting his heels to the gelding’s side. He says nothing else, but nudges the horse into a canter away. Geralt watches him go. His fingers curl into the wood of the fence, picking at the paint starting to crack and flake away.

He’ll have a summer of this, whatever this is. And even if this is the first day of Jaskier being back, he already fucking hates it. The tightness in the corner of Jaskier’s lips, the glare threatening to glint in his eye when he rides past Geralt again, how stiff and square his shoulders are.

Geralt’s tongue sours. A whole summer, and it’s just starting.

Roach nudges her head into his armpit, almost knocking him off of his feet as he combs through the last of her mane just behind her ears. He huffs a quiet laugh, reaching under to scratch her chin. She’s quiet this morning, barely awake when he stepped into the barn and switched on the main lights. He’ll always be the first one here. He might hate the man who owns the property, but he’ll give every minute of his time for the horses.

With everyone else feed and watered, all that’s left to do is to groom Roach. And while she turns back to munch on her hay and oats, he takes this last free moment to untangle the worst knots in her mane. What she does in her sleep to make it so unkempt, he really has no idea. “If you can’t look after your hair, girlie, then we’re just going to have to shave it down,” he murmurs, smiling when her ears flatten back. “You’ll be like one of those proper polo ponies—”

She lifts a leg to kick back at him, but he’s known her long enough to know her tricks. Geralt steps out of the way and sets a hand on to her flank. “Cow,” he lightly scolds, running his eyes over her. Brushed and clean, with her hooves picked and shoes inspected. More and more riders and grooms arrived as the morning rolled on. He offered a small smile to Eskel as he passed, leaving a neatly packed bagel and oat bar in a paper bag for him at Roach’s stable door. Alfred tends to keep riders he likes, and Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert have been here for a few years. Coën joined them later, with Alfred having spotted him at a past event and held out an opportunity to change stables. Alfred isn’t only good at collecting horses, it seems.

He isn’t due to tack Roach up and be at the indoor arena for another hour, so he collects his bagged breakfast and roots through it. Eskel is his only reminder to feed himself, with how much time and energy he puts into looking after the horses in his care. Gods forbid if Eskel was ever gone. He would starve within the week.

The barn’s office originally belonged to Alfred. Enough of his trophies and ribbons adorn the walls. But within the last few years, he’s moved his business into the house. If any of his investors have to come into the barn, he’ll use the space; but for now, it’s just a glorified staff lunchroom. Lambert is already inside, shovelling the last of his own Eskel-baked bagel into his face while watching some show on his phone.

Before he can step inside, his ears prick at the sound of a car pulling into the courtyard. He looks out on to the cobbles, to a gleaming black Porsche parking beside Alfred’s. The man who steps out is young, maybe the same age as Geralt, with warm olive skin and perfectly quaffed black hair. A neatly trimmed and kept beard frames his face. Geralt’s brows knit together.

One of the grooms wanders over, presumably asking if the man is looking for anyone in particular. Just behind them, Geralt notices, Jaskier hurries down the cobblestone path leading towards the mansion house. Geralt’s tongue thickens in his mouth at the sight of him. Hair wet and freshly washed, glinting against the harsh sunlight. A pale blue tee cropped short, revealing his lean abdomen and waist, and denim shorts that hitch high on his hips.

Jaskier waves the groom away before threading his arm through the man’s, smiling at him as he leads them towards the house.

Geralt watches them go, lunch long forgotten about until a firm hand lands on his shoulder. “Let it go,” Coën murmurs behind him. He squeezes Geralt’s shoulder before slipping away, trying to draw him into the office. Geralt wordlessly follows, not that interested in his breakfast anymore.

Lambert looks up from his phone, brows knitting together as he sees Geralt pad by him. But a quick shake of Coën’s head silences any question that could be perched on the man’s tongue.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

And he can’t help it. Alfred’s voice fades away as he watches from the middle of the sand arena. He’s dressed down for the day; a crisp white button-up shirt and slacks, instead of his usual suit. Sunglasses shield his eyes, but Geralt knows that they’re as intense and peering as always.

Geralt can’t help it. As Roach canters neatly around the edge of the arena, he glances up at the house. And his stomach twists at the sight he sees. Two bodies lounging by the pool to the back of the Pankratz’s house. One familiar frame belongs to Jaskier; shirtless, but with tight and high shorts ridden up along his thighs. Wading into the pool is the man from earlier, and Geralt tries to force his eyes back on to Roach, happily cantering around the length of the arena while his blood starts to warm.

Lambert is on the other side of the arena, turning on the diagonal to approach a jump. Alfred stays behind, arms crossed in front of him as he watches Lambert’s gelding take sure strides towards the jump, but leaps early. Even though he’s on the other side of the arena, Geralt can hear Lambert grumbling under his breath from here. “Don’t let him run off on you like that, Blake!” Alfred calls.

The jump is still standing though, and that’s really all that matters in a timed event. But “I know, you fucking prick,” is all Geralt hears from the other man as he travels passed him. Roach’s ears prick, spotting the jump and wanting to join the others in approaching it. Geralt reaches down, scratching the peak of her withers. “Soon, baby girl, in a minute,” he murmurs, still intent on working on their flatwork for now.

He tries not to look. He keeps count of Roach’s sure strides in his head, but he does look. Eyes wander up towards the house, to Jaskier stretched out on a sunbed, lounging in the stifling summer heat, while the other man does his laps of the pool.

Geralt’s jaw flexes.

“Bellegarde!” Alfred calls, clicking his fingers. Geralt’s hold on Roach’s reins tighten. “Take the next diagonal to the jump. You’re next.”

If he’s looking for the jump then he won’t be looking up at the house. Fine. Roach’s ears are pricked and she bows her head, collecting her own canter as they round the corner and stretch down the diagonal. She pulls against him for a moment before settling into a rhythm as the jump comes into view. I’ve never steered you wrong, baby girl, he says to himself, before doing a mental count of their strides.

1

2

3

4—

Roach lifts herself up, popping easily over the jump. All Geralt has to do is lift himself high enough out of the saddle to let her back bend and arch into it. When they land, he gathers her up again and pushes her to the other corner before turning.

Behind him, there’s a sharp clap of hands. “There you go!” Alfred calls. “Now, that’s how you take a turn. Got it?”

There’s a murmur of agreement from the other riders, and Geralt’s face warms. Gods he hates it. He hates being used as an example. Lambert can give him shit about being Alfred Pankratz’s favourite because he’s known the man since they were spotty and gangly teenagers. But it’s the looks from everyone else he hates.

Roach snorts underneath him. Alfred continues to hold court with most of the riders on the far side of the arena, all letting their horses roll back into steady walks before halting. Geralt lets Roach do the same, and the mare throws back her head, wanting to jump again. He reaches up to scratch behind her ears.

Lambert sidles up beside him, avoiding Alfred’s ire. He reaches out to nudge Geralt’s elbow, before nodding up at the house. “So what’s going on there?” he asks lowly, making no attempt to be secret in where he’s looking. Lambert all but stands up in his stirrups, craning his neck to look at the back of the Pankratz’s house.

Geralt rolls his eyes. “How the fuck should I know?”

Lambert is quiet for a moment. “Well, good morning to you too, sunshine,” he whistles lowly. “What happened between you two that you became such a grump all of a sudden?”

Geralt bites at his tongue. “I don’t know,” he grunts.

His house isn’t too far away from the yard; no more than a thirty-minute drive. Alfred likes to keep his employees as close to the facility as he can. Some of the grooms live on-site, while Lambert took up the man’s offer of a small bungalow built near the farm, rented out and lived-in with Eskel.

Geralt’s house is the same; something that almost resembles a cabin as it sits further out than the others, near where the trees start to gather and thicken. It’s quieter out here, although living in the countryside is quiet anyway. With the main hum of traffic gone for the night, it’s dark and calm, and Geralt sighs as he sits down with a tumbler of whiskey caught in his hand.

He tries not to drink on working days, knowing that one will lead to another, and his following morning will be tampered with. He sets the glass on to the table beside him, slouching further into the plush leather couch while scrolling aimlessly through the TV channels.

The rest of the house is dark and quiet, with it being only him. Eskel and Lambert both offered to get a bigger place. If they pooled their gold together, they could have asked for a place for the three of them. Coën wanted in on the deal too, and no one saw any issue with it. But Geralt likes being this far out, he likes the quiet and the calm and the shelter away from prying eyes. The further away from Pankratz’s estate he can be, the better.

Just as he’s settling, warmth starting to ease the last bit of tension from his upper back and shoulders, his phone buzzes. Geralt takes a measured breath. It isn’t odd for him to get a call during the night from one of the overnight grooms to tell him that Roach or any other horses he rides for are causing mischief. He fishes his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, frowning at the number and name scrawled across the screen.

JASKIER

His thumb hovers over the screen for a moment as he regards the time. It’s not terribly late. Jaskier has called him in the middle of the night in the time before—

Geralt scrunches his eyelids, taking a moment to breathe. He swipes ANSWER before anything in his brain can tell him otherwise.

He sets the phone to his ear. “Jaskier?” he breathes.

The voice that floods the other line isn’t Jaskier’s. It doesn’t belong to anyone Geralt knows. And he frowns. “Geralt? Is this Geralt? Sorry, uh, I’m Jaskier’s friend and he has you as his emergency contact—”

His blood chills. Before he can catch up with his own body, he’s up from the couch and heading towards the front door. “What’s wrong?”

The man at the other end of the line sucks in a shaking breath. “We, uh, fuck. We were just hanging out and he, um. You’re not going to tell anyone are you?—”

Fuck this. “Did he take too much?” Geralt bites, gathering his keys and jacket from the rack beside the door. He stuffs his feet into his old worn boots, before doing a quick check on the house to make sure everything is off before he leaves.

The man swallows thickly. “Uh, shit, yeah. My guy is good though, I promise. I didn’t know that anything would be wrong with it, and I don’t know how many Jaskier—”

He fucking hates trust fund kids. Geralt snarls. “Listen,” he barks down the phone, leaving his house and sliding into his car. “Turn him on his side and wait for me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He’s absolutely going to break a few speed limits, but fuck it. The man on the other end of the line bumbles a sure before Geralt hands up, tossing his phone on to the passenger seat and setting shaking hands on to the steering wheel. Fuck Jask, he thinks, sticking the keys in the ignition and pulling away from his house. What are you doing?

A flustered looking man meets him at the door, worrying his thumbnail between his teeth. “I didn’t know who else to call,” he babbles, following Geralt as he brushes past and stalks into the cabin. “Definitely not his dad. Gods, could you imagine? I mean, I guess I could have because this is an emergency. By the gods, he isn’t going to die is he?—”

Geralt doesn’t even look over his shoulder. He runs his eyes throughout the cabin; an expansive space made from stone and wood, like the main house, but suitably Jaskier’s. Even though he has his own room in the main house, most of his time is spent out here, away from prying patriarchal eyes. And it’s for this exact reason—

He crosses the main room of the cabin within strides, heading for the stretch of floor Jaskier is pooled on. He’s on his side – thank the fucking gods – with a small pool of spit dribbling out of his mouth. Geralt clicks his tongue. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it on to the couch and setting his hands on to Jaskier. He feels the man’s forehead. Warm, but not overly so. His other hand settles on Jaskier’s chest, feeling his heart hammer in his chest, but not wanting to burst out of his chest, and his lungs fill with deep breaths.

Not the worst state he’s found the man in, but it still makes Geralt’s hands shake. He turns to Jaskier’s head, watching the man’s face intently. His eyes are open, dazed and looking straight ahead. “Jaskier. Can you hear me?” Geralt murmurs, pushing the man’s hair back from his face.

Jaskier hums. Something barely audible, but he nods afterwards. Good. Geralt wets his lip. “How much did you take?” He taps Jaskier’s face until the man’s eyes open again. It’s a struggle to keep them open. “How much weed did you take, Jaskier?”

The words take a while to reach him. Jaskier’s normally bright blue eyes are almost swallowed entirely by pupils. Jaskier’s lips crack open, words perched on his tongue. But he swallows thickly. Geralt frowns. He looks up, searching for the other man. He isn’t too far away, lingering just behind the couch. The question sits with him instead. “Uh, not much,” he offers, gesturing to the coffee table behind Geralt, “two blunts. We had some edibles too, but I don’t know if he took too many or—”

He doesn’t even have the ability to tell the guy to shut up. He turns back to Jaskier, carding his fingers through the man’s hair and watching him slowly begin to realise who’s in front of him. Jaskier’s brows knit together, a soft frown that barely settles on to his face. “Geralt,” he murmurs, blearily reaching out and curling his fingers on Geralt’s arm. “Wha, why are you—”

The man behind the couch pipes up. “Do we have to call someone else? Like, paramedics or—”

“—No,” Geralt mutters, slipping his arms under Jaskier’s shoulders and knees before hoisting him into his arms. Gods, he’s light. Lighter than he was before—

He winces, shaking the thoughts and memories out of his head. Jaskier slumps against him, arms hanging like dead weights, but Geralt watches his chest lift and fall. Good. “He just needs to sleep,” he murmurs, feet already taking him towards Jaskier’s room.

The man left behind continues to pace and wring his hands, but he’s forgotten about the moment Geralt steps into Jaskier’s bedroom. It’s one of two, but this one is more like the man himself. His guitar is perched near his desk; a mess of notebooks and papers and books. More scattered clothes lie on the floor and on the back of chairs than in his wardrobe.

Geralt’s chest tightens. He pads over to the bed, gently setting Jaskier down and making sure the man stays on his side. He cards his fingers through Jaskier’s hair again, pushing it out of his face. Jaskier’s eyes crack open again. It takes a moment, but Jaskier reaches out again, blearily trying to catch Geralt’s hand in his.

Geralt’s tongue swells in his mouth. He lets Jaskier catch his hand, curling their fingers together in a loose hold. His skin is warm and familiar, and Geralt’s heart aches. When Jaskier speaks, it’s low and murmured and half-lost to the pillow he’s shoving his face into. “Stay,” he mumbles.

Someone should stay with him. Just in case he throws up in the middle of the night, or has some sort of hallucination—

Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s hand. “Sure,” he rumbles, keeping his voice low. A small smile threatens to curl the corner of Jaskier’s lip, but sleep takes him under before it can form. Geralt lingers for a moment, kneeling at Jaskier’s bedside, feeling the man’s grip on his hand loosen and loosen until Geralt can pull away. He does one last quick check on Jaskier before he stalks away. The cabin is bigger than his own house, but it’s nothing like the mansion next door. He would have gotten lost in that mansion if it weren’t for Jaskier.

He stalks back to the living room, eyeing the box of weed and filter papers and plastic bags scattered on the table. The man responsible for it wrings his hands together. “Take that shit and get out,” Geralt snarls, the corner of his lip threatening to lift. The man blinks at him before he scampers forward, gathering everything and heading for the door. Before he can step outside, he’s stopped by a firm hand catching his wrist. Geralt leans close, making sure every word he says is clear and understood. “You don’t mention a word of this to anyone. Not to your friends. Not to Jaskier’s parents. Not to anyone. Understood?”

The man’s mouth gapes as he struggles to find words. He nods instead, swallowing thickly. Geralt’s grip on him loosens before the man scampers away. Geralt huffs, closing and locking the door. The cabin has always been a mess. He doesn’t need to pick up Jaskier’s jacket or shoes or the many, many cartons of take-out food and drink cans littering the table. He leaves his jacket behind as he pads back to the man’s room, shutting off lights as he goes.

Jaskier’s room is still. The man is stretched out in his bed, slumped to the side and almost falling over. One arm hangs heavily over the side of the bed, fingers grazing the wooden floors below him. But the soft breaths and the gentle lift and falls of his chest, Geralt knows that the man is asleep. He’ll stay sleeping, gods be good, for the rest of the night.

Geralt’s lips thin. He goes to the bathroom, collecting a towel to set on the floor beside Jaskier, just in case he does get sick during the night. At least neither of them will have a mess to clean up off of the floor. The room is so quiet, and he hates it. Jaskier always makes noise. Mindless chatter that used to burrow into Geralt’s ears and prod at his brain. He misses it. In the quietness left behind, he misses Jaskier’s voice and all of the useless shit he used to talk to him about.

His chest tightens.

Jaskier shuffles in bed, whining softly and burying his face into his pillow. Geralt’s fingers fidget by his side, not quite knowing where would be a good place for him to keep his watch. He pads over to Jaskier’s desk, moving any clothes that had been draped and tossed over the back of the chair on to the pile already gathered on the floor. He takes a seat, huffing at the press of wood into his back.

It’ll be for a few hours. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, tapping out a quick message to Eskel.

Geralt [00:34] – Could you look after Roach in the morning for me? Going to be late.

Eskel [00:38] – Sure thing. Are you okay?

Geralt [00:39] – I’m fine.

And it’s left at that. Geralt puts his phone away, letting the soft glow of one lamp perched on Jaskier’s desk light the room. Jaskier doesn’t move much in his sleep, but sighs heavily every so often. Geralt shifts his seat, trying his best to get as comfortable as he can and crossing his arms over his chest. His watch is going to be a long one, and one that he doesn’t mind at all.

Jaskier sleeps, barely twitching, but Geralt listens to him breathe. Soft breaths against his pillows, followed by gentle snores. Familiar sounds that have Geralt’s chest tightening and tightening, until he worries that he won’t be able to breathe. Sleep won’t come easily for him, he knows that. But he sits back into the chair, sighing as he closes his eyes, trying to chase it down all the same.

It’s a wordless morning. Geralt rubs at his eyes, wincing at the harsh morning light stretching into the cabin. With the summer months starting to settle in, the nights are short and the days are long. Just as the moon slinks away, it’s reappearing again only a moment later. His stomach rumbles and every muscle in his shoulder and upper back groans and protests him trying to sit up from the chair.

He winces as he works out a bad crick in his neck, trying to roll his head and stretch the lines there, but a shuffling sound from the bed catches his attention. He watches Jaskier slowly claw back at consciousness, climbing up and up until he musters just enough energy to lift his head from his pillow and bury it into the crook of his arm instead. Another deep sigh leaves him before he tries again, looking around his side of the room and frowning.

Jaskier’s voice is nothing more than a harsh rasp. “What happened?” he murmurs.

“You had too many edibles,” Geralt replies lowly, regarding the other man for a moment. Jaskier rubs at his face, wincing at the sun too. Even with the curtains pulled, sunlight streams in from the higher windows, the ones near the tall vaulted ceilings.

Geralt can feel his blood starting to warm. His words are measured and slow, taking their time to crawl out of his mouth. “Who was that guy?” he asks calmly. At Jaskier’s slightly puzzled expression, Geralt continues on. “The guy who was here last night. Who was he?”

Jaskier glowers at him. The haze that had clouded his eyes is long gone, revealing the bright blue that Geralt remembers, but something vile and spiteful sits in them now. “Why do you care?”

Geralt clicks his tongue. “Jaskier.”

There’s a bit of a struggle to detangle himself from his sheets, but Jaskier manages. He sets his bare feet on to the floor, taking a moment to rub at his face and think. “I don’t know, uh, Chireadan,” Jaskier winces, “yeah, Chireadan.”

Geralt levels him with a look. “You don’t even know his name.”

Jaskier’s head snaps, eyes glaring at him. “His name is Chireadan, Geralt,” he bites. “There you go. A perfectly good name.”

Geralt holds his stare. “Where did you meet him?”

“Fucking, gods alive, why do you care?”

“I care when you overdose on some powerful shit with a guy you barely know,” Geralt bites back, the arch of his lip threatening to lift.  

Jaskier snorts sharply. “Overdose, I had two blunts and—”

“—And when I got here, you were spaced out and beyond words.” Geralt doesn’t yell. He growls and snaps at people, but he doesn’t yell. And his voice is climbing in volume now, dangerously close to baring his throat raw. “What if something happened, hmm? If you had choked on your own vomit because you were too fucking spaced out to roll on to your side? What if that guy – Chireadan – took advantage of you—?”

“Just fucking stop, Geralt,” Jaskier snarls, standing up and teetering slightly on his feet. Gods alive, he’s like a newborn colt finding his first steps in the world. He has to catch the end post of his bed as he shuffles past Geralt, making a straight line for the cabin’s main room. Without as much as another word or look at Geralt.

Fuck this. “What’s your problem?” Geralt snaps, stalking after Jaskier. “The last time you and I spoke, it was a year ago; and then it was fucking radio silent after that. What happened? No texts while you were in Oxenfurt. Nothing about you coming home for the summer. When I tried talking to you last week you damn near bit my head off. And now this? What the fuck is wrong with you—?”

“—Because you kissed someone else!” Jaskier roars back at him, eyes steely, but reddened with unshed tears. Jaskier’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “You fucking prick! I saw you! You and Yennefer, making out in that fucking bar downtown!”

The words cut at his skin and the silence left behind is deafening. Jaskier’s breath shakes as it leaves him, as he winces when he catches up with his words. Geralt’s throat bobs. “Jask,” he rasps.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Jaskier growls, voice low and trembling. He rubs at his face, skin starting to redden and blotch. “Get out.”

Geralt’s brows knit together. His feet are rooted to the ground below him.

Jaskier winces. “Get out!” he roars, turning and stalking to the kitchen. With the open-plan of the cabin, he doesn’t get out of Geralt’s eye line. And that’s the worst part. Geralt watches him catch the sharp edge of the granite kitchen counter, taking a sharp inhale as he roots around for a glass.

Something tells him to move. A quiet voice that fights through all the others telling him valid reasons to stay, to keep an eye on Jaskier and make sure he’s alright.

Go.

Geralt swallows. His tongue sits heavily in his mouth as he swallows, almost choking as his throat bobs and clenches. He wanders towards the couch, collecting his jacket, before heading to the door. He spares Jaskier one last look. The man’s knuckles are white as he hangs on to the granite, keeping his legs underneath himself as he breathes.

Go.

[theuniversitychallengereview]

UC 51.13 - Wolfson, Ox vs Bristol

I am allergic to dairy. Or at least I believe I am. This is different to lactose intolerance in that it has symptoms more in line with your typical bout of hayfever, rather than those of a more gastrointestinal bent that you get with intolerance. In other words - cheese makes me sneeze. 

I first discovered this about a year ago when I had something containing milk after a month of testing out various vegan cheeses (having previously been a cheese sandwich on the daily kind of guy). I was completely wiped out with a runny nose, runny eyes, achy joints, heavy head kind of illness for about a day or so. Now, this is a kind of illness that had been plaguing me for years, but I’d never stopped long enough to think about what the cause could be. I just sort of assumed that I was a person who would always suffer a base level of ‘having a cold’ and would occasionally and seemingly randomly get taken out by an extreme instance of it every once in a while. 

After this first incident last year I conducted an experiment on myself whereby I swore off all dairy products for a month and then consumed in as little time as is physically possible, a large takeaway pizza with extra cheese and a large portion of cheesy chips. The next day I was struck down by the same severe sniffles and was forced into a life sans-cheese sandwiches for the first time in living memory. I called the GP to see if they’d be able to do some tests or something to try and find more out about it, but they basically told me that they thought I’d solved the mystery already - so why would I need anything from them. 

Nearly a year goes by with no further cheese-based indispositions, until last Thursday when, on a work trip, and having not eaten since breakfast, having skipped lunch in anticipation of a larger window for the consumption of a full meal which did not materialise, I bought a superfood wrap, the ingredients of which I had read and believed to be safe. However, it turned out that it contained copious amounts of feta. Realising this only once I had taken the first bite, I resolved to finish it. In any case I was absolutely starving and this was the only food I was likely going to see for the next few hours. How bad could it be, anyway?

Very bad, as it turns out. To the extent, indeed, that most of Friday, Saturday and Sunday were complete right-offs (other than the fact that I was able to binge without guilt the entirety of Squid Game). To the extent also, that I spent a not-insignificant amount of time trying to research exactly what it is that's wrong with me (i think it could be something to do with the fact there is a lot of histamine in cheese, and this messes about with the way my immune system deals with threats… If anyone has any insights on this subject they would be greatly appreciated), in the hope of potentially being able to mitigate the issue in the future. 

Usually when I delve this deep into a subject there is the prospective chance that said research will serve me well in future quizzes. With this in mind, and with the hope that it acts as sufficient justification for this self-centred ramble about cheese, I am really hoping for a three part bonus set on the role of histamine in the immune response tonight.

Anyway, (any usually when I make an apology for my rambling I’m being flippant, but in this case it really is genuine, because there isn’t really any excuse for this level of frippery in the introduction to any blog post), sorry for the gigantic diversion from the scheduled programming; here’s your starter for ten. 

Bristol have made seven University Challenge quarter-finals, without ever making it to the semis, which is quite impressive in more ways than one. Wolfson have never made the semis either, but they only have a sole quarter to their name, meaning they have a ways to go to match their West Country rivals.

Wolfson’s Williams introduces himself with one of the biggest smiles I’ve ever seen on a contestant, and its pretty infectious. By the time Paxman gets round to asking the questions I’m positively grinning. The jolly fellow himself is the first to get some points on the board, recognising various revolutions before anyone else. They take two bonuses on the words of the acronym TARDIS. 

Bristol’s Woodcock negs the next starter, coming in very early with India, and then rapping his hand on the desk when he’s told he’s wrong. Wolfson aren’t able to pick up the points, and returned the neg with one of their own next time out. Williams takes his second of the night with Shackleton and beams his head off again. They take two bonuses, including one which is a very obvious description of an electron - the kind of question that has no business appearing on the Challenge.

Nowakowski is first to recognise Granada for the first picture round and he bloody well dabs. He pauses for a brief moment and then literally, and energetically, dabs. I don’t know what else to say about this. It is beyond description almost. Brilliant, mind, but beyond description. A third starter for Williams increases Wolfson’s lead, but they can’t capitalise on the bonuses. The next ten pointer goes to Nowakowski too and… this time he raises his glass of water like he’s cheers-ing the crowd in celebration. I really hope this dude has a full set of different celebrations for each time he gets a question right. We shall see…

Following an amusing discussion between the Wolfson team in which Nowakowski says of Chopin, ‘Well, as a Polish man I wouldn’t call him French, but you’re the captain’, Woodcock makes up for his earlier neg and gets Bristol back on the move. They keep going courtesy of Brian on the music starter, as she gets The Shangri-Las so quickly as to elicit some murmurs of appreciation from Paxman. They then take the lead with a bonus set on film titles made of international country codes and pretty quickly they are thirty points clear.

Aggarwal hits back for Wolfson with an early buzz of Ramanujan, but they don’t make many inroads on the bonuses, and Bristol seize back control with a pair of consecutive starters. They take two bonuses on events happening in years in which the second two digits are three times as large as the first two digits - a lovely UC contrivance which initially seems to make the question more difficult but actually makes it a multiple choice guessing game.

I hadn’t realised it, but Bristol are now ninety points clear. I don’t quite know how they’ve done it, because Wolfson seemed like they were doing okay, but fair play to them, they’ve been excellent after a shaky start. The game is over at this point, but Williams gets in a little joke with a guess of Dr Gilssando on a question featuring the word glissando. Good lad. 

Hang on, if Wolfson can get a few more points they might be in with a shot of the play-offs, and Nowakowski is still pretty pumped when they he gets a bonus question right, yelling Uzbekistan, baby. It isn’t enough to get them the 140 points they need to come back for the repechage, but Paxman comments on his enthusiasm at the end of the match, in one of the most surreal exchanges I’ve ever seen on the Challenge. 

He asks Nowakowski why he was so psyched about his Uzbekistan answer, and Nowakowski says ‘Phenomenal country, great people’, to which Paxo says ‘That’s enough from the Uzbekistan tourist board’. Nowakowski then points a finger at the camera and says ‘Poland approved’. This description doesn’t do it any justice, so if you haven’t seen it already do go and watch it (and if you have then watch it again, its really quite something)

Final Score: Wolfson, Ox 110 - 165 Bristol

I’m going to miss Wolfson, and in particular Nowakowski, so, so much. But full congratulations to Bristol, who dealt with the boundless charisma of their opponents most admirably. See you next week for the last first round match!

[savoryscribbles]

Kaminari Relizes He Might Be Bisexual

Main masterlist

Bnha masterlist

So I love Kaminari, Shinsou, Bakugo, and Kirishima, and I ship them all with myself. But subversive that’ll never happen I also ship them with other characters, I love Kiribaku, Tododeku, and and Shinkami, because I’m a sucker for the grumpy/rude x ball of sunshine trope, it’s my favorite ever. So here have this drabble I have made up which is based on this post here by the lovely @paunchsalazar specifically the first panel. I hope I did it justice. :;(∩^﹏^∩);:

Also, haha, Sweater Weather played while writing this, completely by accident, I just put my playlist on shuffle, and I have over 1,000 songs on there so it was like over a 1/1000(probably less than that? Idk how shuffling works on spotify) that it would play and it did lmao.

Warnings: Angst(I guess it is considering the kind of stuff I write), boi questioning his sexuality, fluff, platonic comfort(I guess)????, swearing, Kirishima being the best gay bff everrrrr, Shinsou being lowkey heteronormative(even tho he’s big gay), teeny tiny manga spoilers(only about the stuff right after where the anime leaves off), Shinsou being oblivious(surprising I know)

Another thing I’d like to say, this isn’t my usual content, I usually only post x reader stuff, but I hope you all enjoy nevertheless. Without farther a due...

⊱ ❀ ✿ ꕥ ✿ ❀ ⊰

Kaminari knew he liked girls since he was younger. Sure he had gay friends, and sure he might have thought once or twice ‘do I like boys?’ ‘Am I gay?’ But he always shot down these questions quickly, because he liked girls, he can’t be gay if he liked girls, right?

Then why did he feel this way? Why was his heart racing whoever Shisou walked by? He thought this feeling was solely reserved for girls, at least for him. Need less to say he was confused. And scared, what if he wasn’t straight? He knew he had no reason to be scared, and there was nothing wrong with not being straight.

Shinsou knew he was gay. He never likes girls as more than a friend, and when he started his teen years and looked at yah know... porn. He always found himself to be the most turned on by the male, even when he first started, and watched the most basic boring ass porn ever, he’d always focus on the man more.

So while it was a surprise that he found himself staring longingly at the blond fuckboy, it was not because he was a boy. His suprise had was more because Kaminari was not his type, at all. His type were the most stereotypical ‘bad boys’ or people who were openly gay. He liked to say he didn’t have time for people questioning themselves.

Both of them on the outside acted unfased by their realizations. Well, Kaminari tried, he failed though. Shinsou didn’t though, which made Kaminari more worried. Because what if Shinsou doesn’t like him?

All of these thoughts about his sexuality ran through his head nonstop, ever since Shinsou had done the joint training with classes 1-A and 1-B. And he tried to push them down, and hope they went away, but they didn’t. And they got worse when Shinsou joined 1-A. And one day Kaminari was just so sick of being confused, and had the courage to actually talk about his thoughts, so he brought it up to Kirishima. ‘He’s gay, so he would know stuff, right?’

“Hey. Um Kirishima?” Kaminari started in shire of where to begin.

“What’s up bro?” Kirishima responded.

“Nothing. Not nothing though, there’s something I need to ask you.”

“Well shoot bro, anything you need you can tell me.” Kirishima said, and luckily his encouraging words helped boost Kaminari confidence.

“How do you know if your gay?” Kaminari asked quickly.

“Hmm, well that’s kind of difficult, I guess I didn’t know if I was gay, I kind of just didn’t like girls, and found boys more attractive.” Kirishima answered, tapping his chin.

“Why do you ask? Do you think your gay?” Kirishima asked.

“Well no, because I like girls, I know I like girls, I like them a lot, but there’s a boy, and he makes me feel how I feel when I see a really cute girl.” Kaminari said nervously, finding it difficult to actually put his feelings to words.

“So you think you like boys and girls?” Kirishima questioned, trying to understand the situation at hand. Kaminari nodded, saying silent.

“Well to me it sounds like your bisexual, if you want a label for it, you don’t need a label if you don’t want to though.” Kirishima deduced, trying time help his friend the best he could. But Kaminari nodded and said a simple ‘thanks’ before walking away.

‘Bisexual huh? Bisexual, I like girls and boys, I am bisexual’ Kaminari said inside his head over and over again, testing how it sounded. He liked it, it brought him peace he hasn’t felt in a while. ‘I am bisexual. I AM BISEXUAL!!!!!’

But just because he knew his sexuality doesn’t mean that he has the confidence to tell the guy he fell for. But it’s a start and he’s happy.

Shinsou found it increasingly harder to ignore his feelings towards Kaminari. Especially when they sat right next to each other, or when they trained together, or when Kaminari invited him to a study session with Kirishima and Bakugo, or when Kaminari would sit next to him at lunch.

His schedule consisted of, wakings up, think about Kaminari, get read for school while thinking about Kaminari, go to school while thinking about Kaminari, pay attention in school but inevitably getting distracted by Kaminari, go back the dorms and in his room, study while thinking about Kaminari, stay up late while thinking about Kaminari, go to bed, and repeat. This annoyed him to no end. ‘Why wont that straight fuckboy get out of my head?!’

He always did this whoever he fell for a staight boy, he’d push all the feelings down until they were gone, and it worked, so why they fuck wouldn’t it work this time? Whatever was happening, he was not having it, he was fucking done with these feelings, and one solution he never did was confess. But that was the only solution he had left.

Kaminari was ready. He was ready to tell Shinsou his feelings, he wasn’t ready for rejection but that’s not something he wanted to think about. He had just came back from the nearest floral shop, and was making his way to his dorm room, when he ran into Shinsou. He almost dropped the flowers he got. Which was something he didn’t want, he had to pay extra to get it custom made with the flowers he wanted. The bouquet consisted of blue, purple, yellow and black flowers, all colors he knew Shinsou liked, but they also represented both of them, the blue and purples for Shinsou, and black and yellow for him.

‘Oh he must be on his way to ask out a girl.’ Shinsou noticed. He hated the sting he felt in his chest, but that’s why he was here.

“I need to tell you something-“

“I need to tell you something-“ They both said at the same time.

“You can go first.” Kaminari said, as Shinsou went silent.

‘Why did he need talk to me?’ ‘There’s now way right?’ ‘No no no.’ ‘I couldn’t even date him if he did.’ ‘I don’t date people like him.’ He was to distracted by his thoughts to hear Kaminari speak.

“Hello? Earth to Shinsou?” Kaminari said waving his hand in front of him.

“Oh sorry, what did you say?” Shinsou respinded snapping back to reality.

Kaminari laughed “I just said you can go first.”

‘I love his laugh.’ ‘No bad Shinsou! No feelings no feelings for straight dudes!’

“Okay. Well I wanted to tell you... I find you attractive, like really attractive, like in the gay kind of way. But I know you’re straight, which is fine, I just need to tell you so I can get over you and move on with my life.” Shinsou said with a straight face.

Kaminari stood in shock at what he had said, happy the he felt the same. However Shinsou took this shock as the ‘suprised a gay guy likes me, a straight guy.’ Kind of suprise, so he nodded and started to walk away, which made Kaminari come out of his shock.

“Wait! That’s what I wanted to talk about though!” Kaminari said running after him. Shinsou was taken aback as he heard Kaminari’s words. He turned around to face him.

“I like you too. I find you attractive too.” He explained

“Oh and these are for you, I’ve never dated a guy before, but whenever I go out on a date with a girl a bring her flowers.” Kaminari nervously put his hand with the bouquet out, while the other found the back of his neck.

Shinsou was confused, Kaminari liked him, but he mentioned girls. He had no problem dating bisexual guys, but he had one to many experiences where they would say they’re bisexual, but end of being straight and breaking his heart.

He took the flowers “uh, thanks I guess? I’ve never gotten flower before.”

“But about the like me and girls, are you just questioning? Are you bisexual? What’s going on there?” Shinsou asked.

“Oh, umm. Well I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual, I talked to Kirishima, and he suggested it to me and I liked it, so yeah.” Kaminari shrugged.

“You don’t just ‘like’ a sexuality, it’s not something you choose.” Shinsou responds, starting to get angry, ‘so he might be messing with me huh?’

“No no it’s not like that! The label felt comfortable, like more right I guess? Than straight?” Kaminari rushed, trying to explain himself.

“Look I get that you like me, and I may like you too, but I don’t date guys who are still trying to figure their sexuality out.” Shinsou responded, and started to walk away again, he might not stay true to his words if he didn’t.

‘He’s to cute. Why does he have to be cute? He’s probably just straight.’

“Wait!!!” Kaminari cried, he wasn’t just going to let him get away, not when he knew Shinsou liked him too.

Shinsou didn’t stop this time, he kept going. ‘Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. You don’t date straight boys. You told him, these feelings should be gone!!!!’

“Please!!!” Kaminari said, his voice getting closer to Shinsou. “Please wait let me explain! I’m not confused about my sexuality, I figured it out I’m just having a hard time putting it into words!”

‘Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.’ ‘Fuck it.’ Shinsou turned around to find Kaminari right behind him, and he did something he’s never done. He grabbed Kaminari’s shirt and pulled him down into a kiss. ‘His lips they’re soft, so soft.’

Kaminari stood still for a moment before he started to kiss back. Snaking his hands around Shinsous neck.

“Was that as good as kissing a girl?” Shinsou asked after pulling away.

“Honestly? It was better, way better.” Kaminari reponded before kissing him again.

And it would be one of many kisses they would share.

[ihatetosayitoldyouso]

august

masterlist

content warnings: some cursing? mentions of alcohol and drinking

word count: 5,189

Chapter 1

I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try.

He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. And I know that’s a cliche statement, but in this case, it was one hundred percent true. He walked past me with a gait that both intimidated and intrigued me. He walked as though he knew he would never falter, never trip, and never fall. He had a jawline that looked as if it were chiseled by Zeus himself. His curly brown hair fell right above his eyes, not completely masking his bold eyebrows. And his eyes. Oh my god, his eyes. The more I looked at them, the more I got lost. They were a deep hazel, with specks of green and gold, that could surely be seen from space. His hands were encapsulating, as if they had a magnetic force emitting from them, pulling me towards him. The way he briefly touched his beautiful lips with the tips of his fingertips did something to me I couldn’t explain.

I realized I was staring and quickly tried to pull my attention back to the book I was reading, but I continued to glance up at him. He walked by me, close enough that I could feel the slight breeze he caused to blow past me. It vaguely smelled like cedar, cotton, and- was that vanilla? I looked at him briefly before he walked completely out of my eyesight and let myself dream for a second. Who was that? And why have I never seen him before? Okay sure, campus is about 40,000 people large, but still. He was in my vicinity now, so surely he had a class around here.

Okay, that was enough daydreaming. I tried to inhale his scent once more before checking the time. My watch said 12:36 pm which meant that my next class was in twenty-four minutes. I spread myself out on the ground by the tree I was at and continued to read. Today was the first day of my Criminology class, so I wasn’t too nervous about getting any studying in beforehand. Plus, the class was huge, so I didn’t need to worry about getting called on to answer a question if I didn’t want to. I checked my phone before getting up and making my way to class. It was a beautiful day out, as if that boy- excuse me, man, I saw earlier created the perfect environment for him to walk in. The sun was shining but there were just enough clouds speckling the deep blue sky. The trees were a vibrant green, going perfectly with the freshly cut grass. It felt impossibly perfect, considering it was the middle of August. Shouldn’t it be excruciatingly hot? But no, the breeze felt perfect on my warm skin and didn’t cause a chill as I picked up the pace into the Behavioral Sciences Building.

As I walked through the glass door, I felt the chill of the AC hit me as soon as my foot graced the tile floor. It immediately sent a shiver down my spine, similar to the one I felt earlier when that immortal in human form glided past me. I felt myself lose focus and completely miss the elevator I planned on using. I shook it off and pretended like walking to the stairs was what I had intended all along. I opened the door to the corridor and began ascending the stairs that seemed to never end. I checked my watch one more time, to assure that I was still on time, and I was actually ahead of my own extremely strict schedule. As I reached the floor I needed, I took out my phone to scroll mindlessly while I waited for my professor. Of course, I was here before anyone else. My mom always told me “on time is late and early is on time,” so I always made sure to be early by her standards: at least fifteen minutes before any event was supposed to start. But not for parties. I promise I’m not that much of a nerd. Maybe.

Anyways, I took a seat in the third row, close enough that I could see the front without straining my eyes, but not so close that I would be able to eyefuck my professor throughout the lecture. Not that I would. But I’ve seen some try. I don’t understand why people have a professor kink, but to each their own I guess. I stuck my nose into my twitter feed and waited for time to pass. About thirty seconds later, I heard the door open. I expected to see another student, but instead I saw the God that had graced my presence earlier. I tried to stop my jaw from flying open, but I failed miserably. Trying to play it cool, I tucked my hair behind my ear and started to organize my things for class. I looked up at him, seeing that he was already, was he? Staring at me? But I managed a meek smile and basically whispered the word “Hi.” His mouth moved and he spoke the word “Hello” before taking a seat at the front of the class. This kid was the professor? What was I supposed to do? Not stare at him the whole class? I just decided to keep my head down and try to focus solely on moving around my things, whether purposeful or not.

About fifteen minutes passed and as more students strolled into the lecture hall, the man I am definitely not staring at, began to write his name on the large whiteboard at the front of the class. “Dr. Reid.” Hmm. Sounds pretty formal. I instantly began to wonder if he was going to be a hardass and to dread the drudgery that I may encounter throughout this semester. I was taking six classes with a course load that could make a grown man cry. Or in my case, a 19-year-old girl. I do my best to pay attention throughout the lecture, rather than staring at the beautiful man in front of me. The class’s material genuinely interested me, but I couldn’t get over the fact that this man, who I thought was a (gorgeous) student, was my professor. He looked too young to be a professor. Far too young to be a Doctor. How quickly was he able to get his degree? Or maybe I’m just terrible at guessing ages, which I usually am.

Before I got too lost in thought, I heard a firm voice come from the top of the room. “Hello everyone. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and I will be your Criminology professor this semester. You can call me Spencer, Professor Reid, or Dr. Reid, I really don’t mind. Before we get started today, I want to tell you all a little bit about me.” He clears his throat and leans back on his desk, laid in perfectly in the center of the room, and I see his dress pants crease slightly. I shake myself in desperate need to pay attention to the words he was saying, rather than his legs, which I could only assume were as perfect as the rest of him. I tried not to aim my gaze around his waist but it seemed to land there all on its own.

“I have a full-time position at the FBI with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They allow me time off on Mondays and Wednesdays to teach, which is how I’m here today” He chuckles lightly. “We work on serial cases and the occasional kidnapping case across the country. We use our knowledge of human behavior to analyze the serial killers we chase down. It helps us understand why they do what they do and what their next move might be. I’ve always found human behavior extremely interesting, which is what brought you all here today I hope.”

He walks around his desk and gathers a large stack of papers in his hands. Oh god, those hands. His fingers were long and slender, and his veins were so prominent, it should be illegal to have hands that attractive. I, once again, caught myself before he made his way down the middle of the row of seats, handing a small section of the papers to the student sitting at the end of each row. He made his way to the third row and handed me a portion of the papers. I took the stack from his hands and briefly looked up and found him looking right into my eyes. My breath hitched as I tried to focus myself and not fumble the papers everywhere. I collected myself and took a syllabus for myself and passed them down my row. Soon enough, I found myself looking back at him as he handed the rest of the syllabi out, hopefully not drawing attention to myself. He walked back down the steps and placed himself at the front of the lecture hall. “I understand that the majority of you will find it strange that I am handing out physical copies of the syllabus, but I have always preferred hard copies to digital ones, and I believe that should apply to students as well. In fact, direct mail requires twenty-one percent less cognitive effort to process than digital media, suggesting that it is both easier to understand and more memorable. Post-exposure memory tests validated what a cognitive load test revealed about direct mail’s memory encoding capabilities. When asked to cite the brand of an advertisement they had just seen, recall was seventy percent higher among participants who were exposed to a direct mail piece than a digital ad. Long story short, handwrite your notes.” A small wave of laughter settled over the class. I found myself smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, staring at Dr. Spencer Reid. How am I supposed to focus when he looks like that? I guess I’ll have to figure it out.

The rest of the class went smoothly. The handsome professor went over the syllabus and his expectations for us in his class. The clock struck 2 pm and I found myself writing down the reading assigned for tonight. Reading? Who assigns reading on the first day of classes? No matter, I read the beginning of our textbook ahead of time, so I didn’t find myself too worried. I stuffed my papers and my journal into my bookbag and tried not to stumble as I gathered my things to walk out of class. I walked past the man I had been trying, and failing, not to stare at for the entirety of the class period. I smiled a small smile and softly said “Thank you” as I walked out the door. He smiled back and waved softly as I melted into the hallway.

I had three classes on Mondays and I always tried to end my day as early as possible, so I walked back to my on-campus apartment; Criminology was my last class of the day. Yes, I start my day earlier than 8 am and I can probably be classified as certifiably insane. At least, according to my roommate’s standards. As I entered the cramped apartment, I found my roommate, Amber, asleep on the couch, a tv show playing softly on her laptop. I laughed at the sight of her, limbs everywhere and mouth agape, wondering how she could sleep like that in the middle of the day. It didn’t matter, she knew what worked best for her. She was one of the most accomplished people in our class. She majored in Political Science and International Studies and she seemed to ace every class with ease. I was in awe of her in that regard, as well as her ability to nap at any time and anywhere. We met each other last year in our Freshman Honors lecture and we had been attached at the hip ever since. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as close and safe with a person as I did Amber. I trusted her with all of my secrets and she trusted me with hers. I was extremely grateful to have her in my life.

Scoffing at Amber, I made my way to my bedroom and sat my stuff down in the corner of the room. I jumped onto my bed and began to scroll mindlessly on my phone. About fifteen minutes passed before Amber barged into my room. “Amber!” I jumped, embarrassingly startled by her entrance, “Jesus Christ, you scared the fuck out of me, I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” she started, “but now I’m not. Funny how sleeping works like that.” I roll my eyes at her. “Anyways,” she continues, “I heard there was gonna be a big party tonight in honor of the first week of classes and I was thinking we would go!” She bounces on the balls of her feet, smiling innocently at me.

“Amber, you know I don’t really party” I say.

“I knowwwww but… I thought I could drag you out tonight?” She clasps her hands dramatically. “Please? I just want to have some fun with you before we’re both consumed by homework. Please? I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.” She smiles her stupid smile again.

“Okay fine, I give in.” I say and she jumps up and down.

“Thank you Y/N!! You won’t regret this!” She says as she exits my room. I sure hope not, I think to myself as she closes the door. I go back to scrolling on my phone before setting it down to take a nap before getting ready to go out tonight. I never stay up late so I needed to prepare myself if I was going to stay out all night. I know Amber will want to get drunk and party until at least 5 am, and I wasn’t about to abandon her just to get a good night’s sleep. This could be fun, right?

---

I stare at myself in the mirror as I put on my tightest fitting dress. It was a red bodycon dress that I never felt especially confident in, but tonight I felt pretty good! I put on a pair of simple black heels to go with it. Normally I would wear something more practical, like shorts and a crop top, or something a little more moveable, but Amber insisted we go all out. “If this is the only party you’re going to this semester, you need to look your best! Why not?!” I couldn’t argue with her, she was right. I might as well look good, who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone tonight. I hadn’t had a real relationship since, well, ever. I was never one to put myself out there. I always focused on my studies and I worked part-time jobs whenever I could. Relationships and romance were never a top priority for me. Sure, it would be nice, but I could live without it. I had much more important things to tend to. Amber was helping me forget about all of those responsibilities tonight, which I admit, was a nice feeling. I sat down at my desk to finish my makeup and touch up my hair before I presented my look to Amber. I stood up, smoothed out my dress, and walked out of my bedroom, doing a dramatic twirl for her. “Ooooh, GIRL! You look hot!!!” She squealed and I smiled wide as I bounced over to her.

“So do you!! Bitch you always look good, how DARE you!” I said teasingly as I dramatically fawned over her. We grabbed our phones with our ID’s (real and fake) and some money tucked in the cases of them, not wanting to carry much else with us. I double-checked to make sure I had everything put away and everything with me that I needed. Amber stood in the doorway, checking her wrist as though she was checking the time, silently telling me to hurry up and that I was worrying over nothing. I sighed, “Okay, okay!” and ran out the door behind her. I triple-checked that we locked the door and followed Amber down the stairs of the apartment complex.

We made our way down to the lobby and out of the building’s front doors, the temperate climate and humid breeze hitting us as we walked to the edge of the street. Amber and I turned our heads to see our Uber approaching from the left and I double-checked to make sure that the car was definitely ours and that the driver inside matched the picture from the app. Amber always told me that I was too skeptical and cautious, but I don’t think that’s even possible, being a woman in the twenty-first century. An Uber driver could be a kidnapper or a serial killer, who knows! As soon as I verified the Uber’s identity, Amber climbed over to the far side of the car as I trailed behind her. I sat down on the covered seat and looked over as Amber gave the driver the location of the bar we were headed to. A feeling in my gut started to arise but I wasn’t sure what it was. Probably just nerves, I told myself as I took a few deep breaths and looked out the window. I tend to get nervous about almost any event, regardless of the severity of the situation. Amber asked the man sitting in front of us if she could play some music from her phone and he obliged. She proceeded to put on “Party in the U.S.A” by Miley Cyrus and I looked at her and grinned. This was always our going out song. We danced in the back of the car and sang obnoxiously loud in preparation for the night.

We finally arrived at the bar in which one of the biggest parties in the school was happening. Honestly, I’m more into house parties, but the only house parties here are the ones happening in frat houses and I am not down for getting drugged and harassed by rich, white, republican frat guys. We paid (and tipped) the Uber driver and made our way into the club. The line wasn’t long at all, considering most people had gotten there as early as socially acceptable to maximize their partying time. The bouncer let us through (thank GOD because I spent enough money on that fake ID) and we danced our way through the crowd and to the bar. We met up with a group of friends from our shared freshman year English 101 class and proceeded to get a round of tequila shots. One round turned into four and into ten. One could say I was officially wasted. I don’t normally party, but when I do, I party hard. Go hard or go home, right? Thanks to my not-completely-ruined inhibitions, I made my way to the bartender and asked for a large glass of water. “Party-pooper!” Amber slurred as she grabbed my shoulder for leverage.

“Hey! I just don’t wanna be super hungover tomorrow. It’s literally-” I hiccupped and giggled as I stared into Amber’s eyes, trying to gain some semblance of solidity in my footing, “It’s literally only Monday. I have three classes tomorrow and I always start my days earlier, you know this! I don’t wanna be drunk at my 8 am lecture!” I basically yelled at Amber’s face because the music and bass were so loud, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts.

“Okay, okay!” Amber shouted back at me, “Take a seat at the bar lame-o! I am gonna dance with that cute guy over there and maybeee you and I won’t be leaving together.” She pointed to a tall, blonde-haired man who was smiling and staring at Amber. She waved a flirty hand at him and started to walk away but her hand lingered on my shoulder.

“Amber!” I grabbed her wrist before she walked away, because I was not standing up right now. “Just… Be careful, okay? Text me if you do leave with him because I do not want anything happening to you. And I expect you to update me with texts with your location when you leave and if anything else happens okay? I love you, you know that right?” My fears were sobering me up quicker than the water was.

“I know! I love you too, silly. I promise I will be careful. I’ll make sure I know he is who he says he is before we leave and I won’t let him drive, we’ll take an Uber or something, okay? I don’t even know if I will leave with him, I was just thinking about it.” She paused for a second. “Thank you for caring about me, Y/N. I really do love you.” She smiled at me and I smiled back as she walked away to go dance with the handsome stranger across the floor.

My happy feelings dwindled for a moment as I sobered up and realized I was no longer a part of any group. Mine and Amber’s friend group had dispersed across the bar and the dancefloor, all trying to go home with someone. I would make that my mission too but frankly, I was too drunk to be completely aware of the goings on around me. I took out my phone and pulled up the Uber app, ready to go home. My plans changed when I looked around me and saw a familiar face at the very end of the bar. Dr. Reid? Why is he here? This bar is mainly occupied by college students, plus today was a huge party day, it didn’t make sense. Against my better judgement, I found myself standing up and walking towards him. I tried my hardest to walk straight and keep my eyes focused. I didn’t want to make my first real impression with him, one of me being blackout drunk. I downed the rest of my water before making my way to him. “Professor?” I questioned as he stared off into the distance.

“Oh! Hi. I’m sorry, what was your name again?” He asked nervously. Why did he seem nervous? I don’t think I ever told him my name. In fact, I barely think I even said hello.

“Oh, it’s Y/N.” I smiled at him. Normally, I would extend a hand to greet someone of authority, like him, but my hands were clammy and probably dirty from being in a bar like this. I hope he doesn’t think I’m weird. He looked down, expecting me to extend a hand as well, I assume. He looks back up and meets my eyes.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” He says.

“You too.” I say and smile. We’re both quiet for a moment and I look around, trying to think of something to say. I’m so awkward. I take a deep breath, in hopes that it would spur a thought or initiate something to come out of my mouth, but it doesn’t.

“You look very nice.” He says and I come short of shaking my head in surprise.

“Thank you! My friend insisted we dress up tonight.” I laugh softly and smooth my dress down with my hands. Should I compliment him too? Would that be weird? “Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” I continue, “why are you out at a student bar tonight? I assume you knew about the party happening?” I don’t know where the confidence came from for me to ask him a question, but I was curious nonetheless.

“Um,” He chuckles and looks at the ground for a moment. “My friend and I were out with our coworkers and he insisted on coming here afterwards. I mentioned the parties that are thrown during the first week of classes and he couldn’t resist, I guess.” He nodded his head to point me in the direction of a very handsome man, dancing with a woman who couldn’t be much older than me.

I laugh and turn back to him. “Are you not the partying type, Dr. Reid?” I don’t know where these conversational skills were coming from. I had a hard time opening up to people my own age, much less authority figures.

“Not really. I mostly teach, work, and go home, to be quite honest.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Please, sit down, you don’t have to stand. I’m sure those shoes aren’t really meant for standing.”

“Thank you.” I laugh at his comment about my shoes. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say they’re the most comfortable pair I own.” I take the seat next to my professor. “And me too, for the most part. My friend kinda dragged me out here tonight.”

“And where’s your friend now?” He questions. I point to the far corner of the club, where Amber was grinding on the man she was telling me about earlier.

“She’s a little more outgoing than me.” I laugh and ask the bartender for another glass of water. I can tell he’s looking at me from the corner of my eye. Why does that make me so nervous? I instinctually start to bite the nails on my left hand. I barely noticed I had started doing that, so I didn’t expect my professor to notice it at all.

“Are you nervous?” He asks and I pull my nails away from my mouth.

“Um, I guess so? I don’t go out too often and new places and people tend to make me anxious, I guess.” I look down at the bar and the glass in my hands.

“I get that.” He says.

“Um, do you mind if I ask how old you are? I’m sorry if that’s a little bit out of nowhere, I just remember you introduced yourself as Doctor this morning in class, and I initially thought you couldn’t be much older than me.” My curiosity got the best of me, I suppose.

“Uh, I’m 28. I have three PhDs in chemistry, mathematics, and engineering.” He rattles the list off as if he says it every day.

“Woah, what are you, like a genius or something? How the hell did you get three PhDs before 28?” I cover my mouth almost immediately. “I’m sorry for cursing, I don’t know, is that not appropriate?” I blush and look down again.

He chuckles, “No, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. And I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and I can read 20,000 words per minute so, yes, I guess technically, I am a genius.” He smiles at me and- is that a smirk I see?

My jaw practically flies open. “Wow, I guess I’ll have to try extra hard in class to impress you.” I find my courage again and look into his eyes. I almost immediately get lost in the swirls of gold and green. I find myself blushing again and somehow more words leave my mouth. “Would you, um, like to go talk outside? It’s really loud in here and my throat is getting sore.” I begin to stand up after he nods. I look for Amber and as soon as I make eye contact with her across the room, I mime typing on my phone as a signal for her to text me and that I’ll text her with whatever I’m doing. What am I doing? Am I going to talk to my professor and leave? Or am I going to leave with him? No, I can’t even think about that, that’s ridiculous. Whatever, Y/N, just worry about getting outside of the bar.

I push the heavy wooden door of the club open, exiting while Dr. Reid follows. I make my way towards the edge of the building, the music muffled by the walls. I lean up against the stone wall of the building and fiddle with my phone in my hands.

“Is this weird? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be blunt but, you’re my professor. Do you normally talk to students at bars or was this just a weird coincidence? Or is this not weird, considering we’re not too far apart in age, I guess, and I mean, we’re both adults, right? I’m sorry I’m rambling I just feel awkward I guess I’m not sure what to say, um…” I cut myself off and look away, trying to find solace in the air around me.

He laughs again. Why is his laugh so attractive? “No, I don’t think it’s weird. It’s nice to have a conversation every once in a while, even if it’s with a student. Even if it’s outside a college bar. I don’t find much time to talk about topics that aren’t serial killers or behavioral analysis.” I jump as he uses his hand to bring my face and my eyes back to his. What was that? “I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just don’t want you to feel nervous or like you can’t talk to me. I really do enjoy talking to students, and just other people in general. Most people don’t enjoy talking to me so it’s nice when I find someone that does.” He blushes. Wait, he blushed? Why are his cheeks turning red?

“Well, I enjoy a good conversation too. And it’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to touch me, I guess.” I pause for a second. “Why wouldn’t someone want to talk to you? You must have so much knowledge to share, being a genius and all.”

“I guess that’s why,” he begins, “people find my rambling to be annoying. I want to share the knowledge I have, but that’s not always what constitutes a good conversation in some people’s opinion.”

“Well, not in my opinion.” I say boldly. I feel sober but drunk at the same time. Sober me would definitely not be having this conversation in the first place. But I don’t feel drunk, I feel… grounded. And focused. But I feel tipsy, like this conversation is affecting me the same way as alcohol. Maybe I shouldn’t think too much about it. You’re blowing it, Y/N. Blowing what?

He smiles and looks down at the ground. I find myself reaching my arm out and placing a finger below his chin, gently nudging his head back up to look at me. He looks surprised. I quickly pull away and begin to play with my hands again. I check the time on my phone: 5 am. Has it really been four hours? It barely felt like fifteen minutes. “I should probably get going soon, I have class in, holy shit, three hours, and I would like to get at least a little sleep before then. It was really nice officially meeting you, Dr. Reid.” I begin to make my way back to the entrance of the bar to find Amber and get us both home.

“Please, call me Spencer.” He says and turns as I start walking away. I pause my movements.

“Okay. Spencer.” I smile and disappear into the bar.

[desiraypark]

Clyde x Sherri Master Post

Clyde x Sherri is an ongoing non-linear series about (now) married couple, Clyde and Sherri (Simmons) Logan. Clyde and Sherri are currently living it up in “real-time”, but entries could be set in the past or future. Sometimes major events are sped up (ex: in real-time, they moved to Norfolk, VA in September 2020, but I’ve been writing them in their new city since July 2020).  This post (which is long, I must add) contains a breakdown of the series entries and some story development details (the Capricorn jumps out, y’all).  Full Series in Posting Order (Entry Breakdown below) LONG POST WARNING

ENTRY INDEX ( *- means they’re being sexy and/or they’re gonna bang) Before They Met July 1992 (Young Clyde x Sherri cross paths) Dating Era The First Date “Familiar” (How They Met) Untitled Prompt Request (Clyde asking Sherri to quit one of her jobs) “Was it for a good reason?” (Sherri learns about the robbery)  Shattered (continuation of the previous) Locked Away (cont. of the prev.) No More Secrets (cont. of the prev.) - Sherri x Jimmy Like Magnets (cont. of the prev.) Meet the Parents (Clyde meets Terry & Ramona Simmons) “Where’s Sherri?” (Request/Clyde x Sherri at a family cookout) Honeybunch (Why Sherri calls Clyde “Honeybunch”) Movin’ In (Prompt request)

Married (Before the child/children) Dearly Beloved (Part of their Wedding) Shut Up, Clyde* (Their Honeymoon) Summer Madness (Summer fluff) Bare Feet (Prompt Request - Clyde and Sherri enjoy a kiddie pool) Lil’ House Guest (Critter alert) Have Clyde’s Cake and Eat It, Too (Sherri can’t resist sweets) Sherri Logan, P.I.* (A lil’ roleplay)  Bad* (A hint of dominatin’ Clyde) Are We Ready? (Discussing children) “Where is my tongue?!” (Sherri gets her wisdom teeth pulled) A Birthday First* (Sherri puts on a show) Lunch Time* (Clyde his hungry) “Love Won’t Let Me Wait”* (Baby Fever in a thunderstorm) Yoink! (Sherri is not to be trifled with) Headed West (Clyde and Sherri move) Every Room* (You see what it says) Something in Common (Clyde and Sherri meet their neighbors) A Mean Old Fashioned (Clyde gets a new job) “Her Name is Sherri.” (Clyde finds the perfect job for Sherri) A Long Night* (If you give a Clyde a remote...) Negative to a Positive (Sherri suspects pregnancy) Deserving (Sherri helps Clyde through anxiety) Bad Mood* (Clyde fixes that lil’ attitude) Babies with Dimples (Clyde and Sherri have too much to drink) Sherri and the Giant Peach (Sherri tries on business clothing) Apple Pie (Sherri freestyles a popular dessert) Chef Sadie (Sadie goes on a cooking competition reality show) Too Much* (Clyde lets out some frustration) No Solids / No Sweets (Sherri’s sick and refuses to do the right thing) Cherries & Honey (Sherri gets a tattoo) The Near Future The Big People (From Clyde and Sherri’s child’s POV) Shush. (Pregnant Sherri wants Clyde to be comfortable) Peanut Butter Jelly Time! (Pregnant Sherri is hungry and horny) The Family Man (Clyde’s dad returns) Catwoman (The Logans go trick-or-treating) The Distant Future Ruby (Clyde and Sherri’s 40th Anniversary) The Weight (Part I - Part II) (Sherri deals with impostor’s syndrome) With Others No More Secrets (Sherri x Jimmy) The Little Things (Clyde x James Cooke) Extra Stuff The World of Clyde x Sherri - “behind-the-scenes” type stuff (includes their birth charts, text conversations, descriptions of their homes, etc.) Sim Clyde x Sherri (I made them in The Sims 4) _______________________ MAJOR TIMELINE The events of Logan Lucky are pushed back to 2015 solely because I wanted Clyde and Sherri to have known each other for a long-time (again, relative to “real-time”).  2015 Early May - Clyde got locked up Late August - Clyde got out December - Clyde moved into his own two-bedroom home // Clyde and Sherri “formally” met.  2017 January - Clyde and Sherri started dating Early April - Clyde and Sherri broke up Early May - Clyde and Sherri got back together Late May - Sherri formally met Jimmy and Mellie  June - Clyde met Sherri’s separated parents (Terry and Ramona Simmons) 2018 March - Clyde and Sherri got engaged September - Clyde and Sherri got married “2020″ September - Clyde and Sherri moved to Norfolk, VA. ______________________ BACKGROUND STORIES Some Clyde Logan headcanons; Sherri Logan development Content/Trigger Warnings: Depression; impostor syndrome; self-doubt; death; parent death; war mention; war injury mention; abandonment (by a parent); cancer mention. Sherri (Simmons) Logan was born on January 25, 1988, in Charleston, West Virginia. Her family moved to Boone when she was a toddler. She has an older sister named Robyn and a little brother named Terry Jr (aka TJ). Sherri graduated high school with a 4.0 GPA and attended North Carolina Central University where she studied Early Childhood Education for two years. Her life’s dream was to become an elementary school librarian. While in college, Sherri’s parents separated. As a result, she became depressed, and eventually so overwhelmed with school work that she dropped out.  Despite her inner desire, Sherri avoided any work in the education field and took on jobs in retail and customer service. When she and Clyde started dating, she worked two jobs--cashier at a dollar store and cashier at a local supermarket. She was also living with her best friend, Tasha. Sherri still feels the “sting” of (self-imposed) embarrassment that has come with being “the one who was supposed to “make it” but didn’t”, but occasionally considers returning to school. Sherri’s sister, Robyn, moved back to Charleston when she married Devon. They have a son, Devon Jr (aka DJ), and a baby girl named Princess. Her brother, TJ, lives in Atlanta, GA. Sherry currently works as the morning/afternoon receptionist at Busy Bees Daycare. Entries to Reference: “July 1992″, “Her name is Sherri.”, “Untitled Prompt Request”, “Familiar”. Clyde Logan was born on November 25, 1983, in Boone, West Virginia to Donna Logan and Timothy Green. He has an older brother named James (aka Jimmy) and a little sister named Melody (aka Mellie). When Clyde was about eight years old, Timothy (never having married Donna), abandoned his family--only sending the occasional postcard to his parents and for the first couple of years, birthday cards to his kids (through his parents). When Donna died of cancer in 1996, the Logan children moved in with their maternal grandparents, Aaron and Sylvia. 

Around this time, Clyde noticeably became more introverted, but often got in trouble for little mischievous acts (ex: setting off the school fire alarm to get out of a test; the occasional schoolyard fight). He joined the Army after high school and just as he was returning home after a second tour in Iraq, Clyde lost the lower part of his left arm in a roadside accident. Inspired by his newfound love for cooking shows, Clyde began taking bartending classes, and late in 2004, started working at Duck Tape. He worked there for sixteen years. 

Aaron and Sylvia Logan have since passed away (Aaron in 1999, Sylvia in 2008), as has Clyde’s paternal grandmother, Betty (d. 2013). His brother Jimmy currently lives in Greenbrier County, WV has a daughter named Sadie and a fiancée named (ironically), Sylvia. Mellie is recently married to Joe Bang. Clyde currently works as day bartender at a posh restaurant called Strafford’s Kitchen.  Entries to Reference: “July 1992″, “Familiar”, “A Mean Old Fashioned”, “Headed West”.  _____________________ I even have a work schedule for these two but I’m gonna to sit down somewhere and finish this. Bye. Lol.

[get-chazzed]

When do you usually do most of your writing?

Pet peeves?

What is on your wishlist?

When do you usually do most of your writing?

I wake up very late because I have no self control and a really messed up sleeping schedule, so I do the writing from 1 pm onward, generally speaking. Then again, I have spent more than one day doing nothing but typing away on my keyboard for this account, so... Yeah. I'd like to say I do most of it during the daytime, but it depends: if a thread I like gets a reply at 2 am (which happens a lot because everyone seems to be living in the Americas?) you can bet I'll be typing a reply as soon as I get the notification (though I almost never post them right away, since I'm anxious about spelling, syntax and so on). It might be that I'm new to the scene and that I'm a situation in which I have little else to do, but I get really excited whenever I get a reply or an ask and will jump at the chance to start interacting with new people- which is sadly kind of hard because of how unpopular GX seems to be among the RPC. People have still been very nice to me and have been very open to testing out interactions, which I'm deeply grateful for. I am wagging my nonexistent tail of all of you, constantly. On a separate note, I do the fic writing after midnight. Always. And I hate it.

Pet peeves?

... Oof. Ok. I'll take my chance to say a bunch of things? Don't hate me for it, I don't mind any of these that much.

1) I kind of dislike writing in present tense, mostly because I find it unnatural, but I will when the other person does. I'm the opposite of picky- and it isn't necessarily a good thing.

2) Fancy formatting. It's one thing to use small text, that I don't mind one bit. But when fonts and random highlighted words are involved I get very confused? I know I use italics for emphasis and for things that are meant to be internal monologue that isn't narrated, but rather delivered by the muse himself- maybe that's annoying or distracting to someone? I bet someone out there has looked at a reply of mine and wanted to delete the post in my stead at some point.

3) Heavily edited icons. Again, icons or not, it technically doesn't make much of a difference. I personally have taken a liking to keeping my Manjoume icon folder open on my second screen- plus I'm Italian. Come on. Half my communication skills are non verbal I'm lying I suck at communicating in general. The edited icons, yes- a frame and coloured filter make icons look personal and I appreciate the work put into them, but when I can barely make out the expression I have to wonder what the point is. Aesthetics, I suppose, which is fine, of course.

4) Tumblr themes. Some themes don't allow for reblogs when you open posts on the op's blog. WHY. It's sort of annoying to have to fish for the post in order to reply to it.

5) Endless threads. Very few do this, but I think you should consider that people who are not involved in a given thread will have to scroll through it on their dashes before you reblog a thread without cropping it. That's all. I didn't know how to do it initially, but I asked and I was lucky enough to get an answer from a very kind person.

6) ... Grammar. Typos are fine and dandy. Sometimes they happen and you can't notice them because some words exist and thus are not highlighted by the spellchecker (which is on everyone's chrome, by the way). An example is 'fir' and 'for'. I can assure you there is no red squiggle under 'fir'. It's a tree, apparently. I had no clue. But yes, I am not from an English speaking country, so don't take this as like... a British dude coming up to you and bullying you because your English is bad. No. A misplaced comma is ok, I don't care. It becomes a problem when the sentences are hard to understand. That's it. (Note- if I write something that you think is an incomprehensible mess, tell me and I'll try my best to fix it.)

... I'm done. I am not angry at anyone who does any of these, believe me. Pet peeve number seven is a request. DM me for literally anything. If I do something wrong, tell me. I write a lot of extra tags to convey how I feel about what has been written and maybe it's unnecessary, but I do it so you can always know that I'm actively invested in the interaction. If I don't add tags it's solely because there is nothing to add. But if it's annoying, tell me and I'll stop immediately. That is all.

What is on your wishlist?

... This.

How very unexpected, I know.

A bunch of other things, too: I have some Jojo prints in my cart on Etsy and I know I'll never get them (sad) and a bunch of videogames on Steam and the Nintendo e-shop (which I'll never buy or play- they look neat though). On Amazon I have the last few volumes of the DM manga and the GX series (Light and Darkness Dragon, my beloved). Also also any charm that has to do with Manjoume. I haven't found any I could buy, but I want 'em all. Literally break into my house if you find one. Ah! And the matching figures of Komaeda and Hinata from Danganronpa 2! (Big Danganronpa fan, bigger Komahina shipper- I've made a fucking animatic and I can't post it because the music is copyrighted ;) ) I also have a bunch of zines I'm waiting for- some I've bought and are about to be sent out and others have only posted interest checks. 2021 was the year in which I discovered that yes, I can commission people and buy zines and it doesn't need to a big event (except I'm not rich and need to be mindful with spending of course). ... I also really want the new Pokemon games. Like right now.

... If it turns out the question wasn't actually about like... material things, but rather what I want to do with my blog and muse in the future... Well, first of all pretend I said nothing. Second, I want to find an art style I can comfortably use to make more frequent illustrations for threads and asks. I was a big fan of ask blogs as a kid (I saw them through crust screenshots and reposts only, I didn't have a tumblr lol) and I always wanted to be that cool artist that makes cool art for a given cool character. Manjoume is the coolest of characters to me, so yeah.

[anikkis-fantasirealities]

“Misty Meets, the Valued Rocks and Seas”

② Travelogue ┊ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵗʳᵃᵍᵉᵈʸ ᵃˢ ᵗᶦᵐᵉ ᵗʳᶦᶜᵏˡᵉˢ··· ᵗʳᶦᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗᵃᶜᵗᶠᵘˡ ᵗʳᵉᵃˢᵘʳᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗᶦᵗˡᵉᵈ ᵗᵉˢᵗᶦᵐᵒⁿᶦᵉˢ·

꒰⁺˚₊·₍₍loading...₎₎ ✎...۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪ -ˏˋ 🗺 ˊˎ- ༘✶ ㊉ ㈦〘 ⅯⅯ 〙⋆｡˚𓆟 ༉ ║ Posted : ０６/１５/２１° ｡༄ ‧₊˚ ๑ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ •ଓ.° ｡❍ ㈩ ㊇

- - ——— ꒰ An article by Nicole “Nikki” Elaine S. Chua ꒱

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ࿐ྂ—͙❬₊° ᶦ ᵃᵐ ᵃ ᵇˡᵒᵍᵍᵉʳ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ·“= ‹⸙͎

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ❐ · ⸰ㅤ ㅤ ⋇ · ◦ ㅤ ㅤ ⁕⸰ ㅤ ㅤ ☁

⊹ ㅤ ㅤ ⋇ ㅤ ㅤ ·⁕ ㅤ ㅤ ◦ ❏ ⋇

ㅤ ㅤ ◦ ⸰ ㅤ ㅤ ◍ ㅤ ㅤ ⊹ ⁺

· ㅤ · ⊹ㅤ ㅤ ⋇ · ◦ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ · ❏

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ · ⁕ ㅤ ㅤ ⋇ ⸰ㅤ ㅤ ❐ ⊹

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ❐ ⊹ ·

ㅤ ㅤ ❐ ⊹

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ · ⊹ ⋇ · ◦

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ · ❏

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ· ㅤ ㅤㅤ⁕ ⸰ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ⊹ · ⁕

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ❐ ⊹

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ.ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ .

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ.

“Wait, it’s about to rain?” I can vaguely remember saying something similar to those impulsive thoughts, as I look up into the gray skies and those monotoned clouds steadily sailing in mid-air. I felt the raindrops on my face—the mix of awe and worry from my father, mother, and sister who were about to trek on those rocky grounded fields of the wild Yehliu. The other visitors, whose language I could not understand, fiddled through their belongings. They opened umbrellas and covered themselves in pastel-like colored jackets, transparent in design, as I observed their casual clothing for a supposed sunny adventure. This was about to be one of the greatest family travels out of the thousand places I’ve visited—one that was like no other.

Welcome to 𝙔𝙚𝙝𝙡𝙞𝙪 𝙂𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙏𝙖𝙞𝙥𝙚𝙞, 𝙏𝙖𝙞𝙬𝙖𝙣! For this article, I’d like to tour you around one of the most memorable and breathtaking travel destinations that my family and I visited during our second vacation in Taiwan. To be honest, the Chuas loves to stroll around new locations together—whether we linger the Pearl of the East, or the rest in the Heart of Asia. Whenever there is time to escape from the world of academics, we break out from that comfortable 3D box to walk to the outskirts of recreations, entertainment, and sights to behold. Dad, who was always our captain on the steering wheel of our adventures, would schedule the perfect itineraries during our summers. Mom tends to take pictures and post mementos of our times together on Facebook—as my sister and I enjoy the blissful moments noted in our own book of life.

This geopark, however, gave a different kind of atmosphere to our typical visits. The humidity has been thickening and the cold crisp air swept through the open area. A geopark is molded by nature’s wonders. There are no futuristic buildings, leaning towers, nor brilliant inventions of men standing uproot, rather, jaggy rocks and murky land persists in this long-cape landscape. It has 1,700 meters of earth carved from top to bottom—shaded by bland hues of brown and green. However, such a scenery cannot be underestimated just because there is nothing but bumpy stones, flimsy pathways, and barren holes on the crust. This is the sole reason why it is visited, for Yehliu Geopark is not only a tourist attraction, but also a habitat for rich ecological resources and thriving fishing communities. The entirety of Yehliu’s cape runs through a sea—yes, you read it right, a 𝙨𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙚 of soothing waves that compliment the greenery of the mountains above.

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝dissolve into seafoam. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

Do you know the story of how Yehliu Geopark became to be in its present form? Each rock and stone structure in this site has its own character, as if they are interacting with one another. The locals here in Yehliu witnessed how nature refined itself with its own miracles. Hence, they are also the ones who shared the geopark’s origins to tourists like us. The landscape was crafted by marine erosion, because it so happened that the seashore’s layer is made out of limestone. Because of the scientific method of weathering and movement by the Earth, the limestone crumbled over time—dissolving slowly by the seawater bashing itself into land. It resulted into those eerie, yet interesting sea-water eroded holes on the ground. What’s even more amazing is the fact that because of the flurry winds, blinding sunrays, salty water, harsh rains, and dreadful northeastern monsoon paths, the rocks gained identity and almost became celebrities due to their unique figures.

It is truly a work of God, that these elements who continuously burdened stones to rapidly change and adapt to the impact they cause, made them into what they are today. It is like humans, who also tolerate, endure, and persevere from pain to transform into better people—tested by time, yet surviving with resolve. The day my family and I visited the geopark, the rain drizzled from the heavens. There was the thought that I could slip over wet ground and plunge into the sea if I was not careful, but looking around, I figured that this peaceful nature will not allow anyone to be taken by its mystical works. It embraces you, like there’s nothing to be scared about. Instead, it greets you hello with open arms—wanting us to continue our plans despite the misty dewdrops.

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝ bridge to terabithia. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

The chilly atmosphere was actually quite relaxing, especially when nature desires its visitors to breathe for a while after an industrious environment in the urban society. My family and I walked with our umbrellas on our heads with smiles on our faces—the waves from the sea yearning to approach us, only being stopped by the sturdy ground that we walked on. If ever you visit Yehliu Geopark, you must get ready to meet some of the rocks in this travel destination! There are candles, mushrooms, a cute princess, that arch-shaped gorilla, some kind of marine bird, ice cream, tofu, and the main attraction: the Queen’s head. Just like the other tourists, we did not hesistate to take home souveniers of our adventures from the unwinding views we’ve seen. Even though more than 1,000 meters is a big horizon to explore, we walked around—hoping to spot more rock formations.

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ❝ uniting the cynosure’s roads. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

Imagination is what created those rock formations’ attributes and parts in this still story of Yehliu. If you have tons of imagination of both the possible and impossible, then your sightseeing will be plenty of fun to commit to! The 𝙈𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 are like little children sitting on the seashore, except they were not just two but 180 of them all together in one area. After stepping with caution across the slippery rocks, you will notice a familiar figure that looks like a woman with a large headdress. She wears it with all honor and responsibility as the star of Yehliu. Oh! You guessed it, we found the 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣'𝙨 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙! We captured a shot with her hazel beauty which you can see in my cover edit. Mission accomplished, now let’s look for the other rock characters, shall we?

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ❝ ephemeral angst, nefarious epiphany. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

After walking for a while over bridges and stairways that connect the geopark together, we discovered the 𝘾𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨. They were soaked in sea-water, so its usual beige color like all the rocks we’ve seen so far has dimmed to pitch black. Though, you will be surprised that they are shaped like short candles—with their wicks sticking out in the middle, as if it has already melted deeper into its center. According to the brochure we held before entering the tourist spot, these rocks were originally ball-like concentrations with softer surfaces, before they were completely scoured off. So, that must be the magic of Yehliu, huh?

Then, we noticed an unique rock formation that was not documented on boards or printed material by the management. It was like an animal, laying down on a rock—resting with pride and confidence. I wanted to call this the 𝙇𝙮𝙣𝙭 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠, because it looks like a feline who is about to hunt, perhaps the marine bird from meters away. It’s not the official name of the rock formation, though, I felt closer to it when I made the connection. I felt chills all over my body when I heard the tiny pitter-patters hit my navy blue umbrella. It was definitely a fateful encounter—the calm rain, the rushing of the sea ridges, and a new found friend. When you come over to Yehliu, do say hello to Lynx for me! I terribly miss her, after all these years that I haven’t picked up my suitcase for another trip.

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ❝ the serendipity of tranquil encounters. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

There is apparently an anecdote documented in Yehliu’s history about a certain fisherman, namely “𝙇𝙞𝙣 𝙏𝙞𝙖𝙣𝙯𝙝𝙚𝙣.” In 1964, a group of students were visiting the scenic charm of the rocks and sea, when one of them unintentionally fell into the sea. Without thinking twice, Lin Tianzhen showed his courage and jumped into the raging sea to save the helpless pupil. Sadly, none of them were able to come back to shore alive—devoured by the depths of the salt water, unaware of its crime. When the news came to the attention of President Chiang Kai-Shek, the first president of Taiwan, he quickly ordered for a monument of Lin Tianzhen to be built in Yehliu. That’s why if you would see a marble sculpture of a man in baggy pants, that is the heroic fisherman in the stories of the locals here.

Throughout the rest of the adventure we’ve challenged to carry on despite the moist surroundings, we faced the 𝘾𝙪𝙩𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨 and her adorable figure, like she was posing her bent head to the camera. We found the arched-shape 𝙂𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙖 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠, who stood still, yet to our surprise, it was a literal arch! You can see the Gorilla in one angle if you do it correctly, though, you could also look at it in another angle to realize that it has a hole through its structure. We raised our peace signs in eagerness of the enticing discovery while the camera flashed. The 𝙄𝙘𝙚 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠 and 𝙏𝙤𝙛𝙪 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 made us hungry, because they looked like actual food enlarged and hardened in their positions—though, of course, they never expired! I could imagine that famous Taiwanese ice cream brand scoop on that jar-like rock, and the dream of tofu soup, for the Tofu rocks laid in two rows within the middle of the sea.

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ❝ a pluviophile soaked in hyperborean aqua. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

Since we were hungry, we looked for a place to fill our tummies to satisfaction. Thankfully, Yehliu Geopark still has facilities to accommodate tourists’ basic needs. A visitor’s center is established for dining, renting of wheel chairs & baby strollers, and inquiries of guests to the staff of the geopark. You can also ask for assistance from the friendly tour guides of the travel destination—if you are able to speak in Chinese, that is! Don’t worry—they are able to understand and speak basic English. Just make sure to pack your skills in speaking the foreign language if you’d like to talk more with the locals here, then! They also have a nursing station & lost and found section in the center in case of emergency or urgency, which is useful for scenarios such as the unexpected rain when we visited.

Because Yehliu Geopark takes care of the reefs and water ecosystems nurtured in their location, they also have a oceanpark in the geopark! It is called “𝙔𝙚𝙝𝙡𝙞𝙪 𝙊𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙,” though we were not able to spend time taking a peak into the realm of sea creatures and corals freely living in the pictures of exhibits. There are diving performers in the oceanpark, too, that make visitors astounded by their splendid act. Oh, and how can we not forget the souvenier shop for merchandise from Yenliu Geopark? It’s always great to show your loved ones how much you enjoyed Yenliu, its stories, and the sights you’ve seen! It also supports the geopark’s operation, so that it can continue its goal and mission to keep sharing the wonders of this valued scenic area by the Heart of Asia.

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ iridescently frozen in an ethereal epoch. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

There are also many earthy figures here that were molded by weathering. They are known as “𝙃𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙙 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨,” that possess an artistic style like that of a solidified sponge. Through these rock structures, Chinese culture is shown—an example being the “𝟮𝟰 -𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙡-𝙥𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡” that presents the importance of superiority and inferiority relationships to Chinese people. The hill of rocks have 24 men-like figures standing nearby each other, revealing a picture of hierarchy based on the positions of each men.

Additionally, the geopark has fossils scattered across its long cape. We only found this urchin fossil in the picture above, plaqued like a prized possession with the proud mark of Taiwanese tourism. The words, “Tai Power,” reminded me of the rest of the adventures that my family and I had in the warmth of this country. Even though the distress comes, it fades away with the power of bonds to go against the negativity to be refined everyday—that’s Tai Power, the ability to touch hearts wherever you are right now!

╭⋟──────────────────────────────────────╮

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ❝ petrichor at selcouth midday. ❞

╰──────────────────────────────────────⋞╯

Before I forget, if you’re looking for extreme activities, you can try tracking down the caves of Yenliu that were also crafted by nature’s power. They are placed in spots that are hard to reach by visitors—including me and my family who did want to risk getting harmed. Do try it out, however, if you’re looking for the thrill! There are other rock formations to uncover in Yenliu Geopark aside from the ones we were able to locate. You can trace down the footprints of a fairy in the 𝙂𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙧𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 and notice the 𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮'𝙨 𝙎𝙝𝙤𝙚 was left behind before it has taken flight again. The locals here believe in a legend that this fairy sent by the Jade Emperor, from Taoist beliefs, cursed a turtle elf who troubled the seas and caused many shipwrecks back in the day. So, if you see white smoke coming from the mountains, locals will exclaim that the turtle elf is taking its last breath. It’s a motivating tale to conclude this article, and our visit to the geopark.

Most importantly, I’d like to remind everyone who plans to visit Yehliu Geopark to obey and respect the guidelines given by the management of the landscape, as well as the North coast and Guanyinshan National Scenic Area Administration! If you observe red warning lines on the ground, do not pass that zone—always stay on the path, because it is for our own safety. Let’s 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙘𝙩 these astonishing wonders offered to us by the beloved nature we owe daily. We need nature, but nature does not need us. We should not touch nor damage these creations of Mother Earth. Climbing & tagging on the rock formations, smoking, biking, wading, swimming, fishing, littering, or disturbing the plants in the location is strictly prohibited! Otherwise, you might need to pay for a fine when caught.

Our duty to look after Yehliu Geopark, while saving the environment in our own way, is for the sake of the next generations whose imagination will also be aroused by these treasured beings and narratives of this place. The staff would like more people to enjoy the unique scenery it offers to the world. The rock structures in this geopark are still actively developing and dynamically changing with the tides of our times today. So, it is only rightful if we give them the same amount of growth they need, as much as we do.

At the end of the day, the trip I had in Yehliu wasn’t too bad at all! It was beautiful, stunning scenery to keep in my memories as I move forward to the present. Through my travel to Yehliu Geopark, we were able to unveil the mist and take a glimpse of the true colors of ordinary rocks and common seas. We got to know many stories of still stones, and the amazing people who make the geopark the apple of the eye for more tourists. A part of nature—to witness its ability and wonders through an alleviating journey to find peace—Yehliu Geopark can surely be described that way. If you’re interested in travelling to Taiwan, Yehliu Geopark is a tourist spot that you absolutely must consider in your own bucket lists! Maybe not now while the pandemic is still ongoing, but someday, hopefully! I’d love to hear your own experiences in visiting the geopark in the comments!

╔ ———————————————————————————— ╗

Yehliu Geopark is open from 8 AM to 5 PM. One entry ticket costs 80 NTD or New Taiwan dollars for one adult tourist. On the other hand, kids aged 6 to 12 can avail an entry ticket half its price. In the Philippines, 80 NTD is 139.54 pesos, while 40 NTD is 69.77 pesos, as of June 15, 2021. However, you can get a 20% discounted group ticket if you are a group of 30 or more people. The geopark is located in the Heart of Asia—Taiwan! Its exact address is No. 167-1, Kantung Rd., Yehliu, Wanli, New Taipei City, Taiwan.

If you are already in Taiwan, you can get to Yehliu Geopark either through bus or car. There are four routes that you can choose from if you will ride on a bus. Meanwhile, if you choose to arrive at the geopark by car, there are five dispatch options that are possible to use, depending on your starting point. You can check this link for more information regarding a planned trip. Safe travels, and thank you for reading! Let’s meet again in another blog where my fantasies become realities! A Nikki reminder: find passion in your work, and you’ll never tire from it! See you!

╚ ———————————————————————————— ╝

· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚ . . 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . * · . · · + . ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ· ** ˚ . . + 　　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ. . + 　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧ ⋆ · * . · . · · .. . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ· + ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ· * ✫ * ⊹ * ˚

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ · ** ˚ . . + ㅤㅤ　· ⋆ * . * . . · . · .˚ ⊹ · * ✧

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ⋆ · * . · ㅤㅤ . · · .. . . · + .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ. · + . *

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ * . * . .

ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ . · ·

ㅤㅤ﹙dedication. ﹚ ୨˚୧ ˚ ༘♡.↳ ₊˚‧

This blog is dedicated to heroes who stay to be ordinary, because they glisten the most when their humbleness is that of the rocks and seas. You are truly the ones who give Rising Hope to all of us.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 🌄 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ┊彡 Credits

➥ Cover Edit

➫ Pictures captured by my mom, Helen Sy

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Blog Dividers

➫ Pictures captured by my mom, Helen Sy

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ

➥ Source of Information

➫ Yehliu Geopark Bruisure

➫ Yehliu Geopark’s website

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ﹋﹋﹌﹌﹌「 end. 」﹌﹌﹌﹋﹋

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ⭆ Back to Homepage ⭅

⇦ Previous Blogㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ Next Blog ⇨

[makeste]

why Kaminari Denki is not the U.A. traitor (and why the traitor is actually Hagakure)

thank you, anon! okay first off, my opinion of the Kaminari Traitor Theory is: nah, he ain’t. but as requested, I will break this down and refute the various arguments point by point.

this is a big compilation of various “Kaminari is the traitor” posts from 4chan (general warning btw for 4chan being 4chan), which I got from this reddit thread. some of these are clearly shitposts, but on the whole it seems fairly comprehensive, so I’m gonna use this as my primary source for theory arguments. if there are any major arguments for this theory that I missed please let me know.

also! a huge part of the reason why I don’t subscribe to this theory is that I am 1000% sure that Hagakure is the actual traitor. so the second half of this post will consist of a detailed explanation as to why I’m all-in on that theory to the point of dismissing any and all other theories. I feel like that’s worth clarifying a bit more.

so! here goes.

“his proto design is that of a villain”

lol I’m trying to think of how to put this diplomatically. this is something I see a lot, people using Horikoshi’s prototype sketches and notes as evidence for various theories. the thing is, this is shaky ground at best. there’s a reason why these are proto designs and not the final product. Deku’s proto design had emo kid hair, and proto!Katsuki was an obnoxious prep school kid lol. plans change, and thank fucking god for that tbh.

but that aside, “he looks like a villain” is not in any way a solid argument to begin with. Horikoshi has made a point in the actual story of showing that people’s preconceived notions of what heroes and villains “should” look and behave like doesn’t always line up with reality. and in this case we’re not even basing it on behavior, but solely on how he looks, which is really kind of discriminatory. by that logic, one could look at, say, Shouji, and be all, “well he’s clearly the traitor.” just because someone looks scary at first glance doesn’t mean they actually are. all in all, I don’t buy it.

“Kaminari is the only one who could have told the villains where the camping trip was being held since he’s pretty much a walking GPS”

I present to you a panel from chapter 83:

literally any one of the students could have used their phone’s GPS to pinpoint their location and send it to the villains. they weren’t on any kind of communications lockdown, and even if they were, there was no practical way to enforce it. so this argument doesn’t really hold water for me. even if Kami’s quirk did work that way, which we don’t really have evidence of aside from one weird line in the USJ arc that has never since been expanded on, that doesn’t really work as evidence of him being the traitor when there are 39 other kids who could have done the exact same thing without a quirk.

“his dumbness is fake”

this is honestly the one aspect of this theory that I least understand. the thing is, this isn’t a theory. this is a what-if. it’s as if it occurred to someone one day, “lol what if he was just faking” and then this entire elaborate conspiracy headcanon was built up around that and eventually evolved into what we have today. this just doesn’t make sense to me at all. is there any evidence of him actually faking it? I feel like people just went “omg that would be such a cool twist” and then started arguing why it could be canon.

anyways I personally think Kaminari is 100% certified organic dumbass, and frankly I love him for that. where is the respect for the dumbasses of the world. Kaminari is still a great character even if he’s not secretly a JUST AS PLANNED double agent. you don’t need to make him evil for him to be interesting.

“look at his sneering face here, though”

okay yeah but hear me out: he’s a little shithead, lol. I mean, do you also think Bakugou is the traitor or.

“I edited this picture to make him look more evil, look”

okay??? lol, what. I think we can just move right along from this one.

“he didn’t bother with a costume, this must mean he doesn’t need help controlling his ability”

this I don’t get at all. a lot of the kids went into hero school not having a clear idea of what kind of costume features would best suit their quirks. that’s only natural; they’re still inexperienced. it is in no way any kind of indicator of any deception on their part. Kaminari is extremely powerful, but until recently he hasn’t had the guidance he needed to help him figure out how to harness that power better. and seeing as he has now made several modifications to his costume since starting at U.A., this argument is out of date.

“it’s scary how much traitor kaminari would make sense”

a lot of these really are just shitposts, huh? maybe I should have picked a better source. but just, like. what even is the logic here? “if he’s actually not stupid THEN HE MUST BE EVIL”? I really am trying to give this theory a fair shake you guys, even though it probably doesn’t seem that way. but this is just leap after leap. I keep thinking that I must have missed something crucial but as far as I can tell this is it.

“Monoma’s gonna copy his quirk and figure it out”

I do want to see Monoma copy his quirk, but only because seeing him go all “wheeeey” would be absolutely amazing tbh.

“reminder that kaminari thought stain was cool”

this one is actually a reasonable point. but listen, you have to keep in mind that Kaminari is a sixteen-year-old boy who gets easily swept up in the latest crazes and memes and fads. he’s naturally curious, and very open-minded and accepting, even when he perhaps shouldn’t be. but it’s as much a strength as it is a weakness, if not more so. those same traits make him the friendliest member of class 1-A (with the possible exception of Kirishima), allowing him to get along well even with a sentient cactus like Bakugou, and to stubbornly befriend Shinsou all of fifteen minutes after Shinsou announced that he wasn’t there to make friends lmao. he’s very unprejudiced, and when you put that together with how excitable he is, you can see how that might make him a bit more susceptible to getting caught up in stuff like the Stain hype train. it doesn’t make him evil. hell, even Deku had a kind of begrudging respect for Stain. I personally can’t stand Stain at all so I don’t get it myself lol, but it seems to be canon that he had a real charisma which many people were swayed by even if they didn’t agree with his ideals.

“>hanging wrist watches on the wall  - Who the hell does this”

you know what that’s a fair point too.

“his room is tacky and shows no personality”

okay in seriousness this is barely worth addressing because it’s so far of a reach, but fine. the thing is, Kaminari’s core personality is that of a typical teenage boy. that’s his role in the class. he’s just a normal guy, because you need to have some normal people around to balance out this cast of extravagant weirdos. and anyways, if we’re accusing people of being evil simply because their rooms lack personality, Ojiro and Shouji’s rooms are right. there. I’m just saying.

“he was in remedial too [on the school trip]. avoiding combat”

so were Sero, Kirishima, Mina, Satou, and Monoma. what’s more, they didn’t know that the remedial kids were going to be barred from participating in the test of courage. most of them were devastated to realize that lol. anyways so yeah this isn’t really proof of anything.

“[the night] before the attack Kaminari is clearly missing”

this is referring to this panel from chapter 75:

however, there’s actually a whole chapter in the second light novel about Iida going around in the middle of the night checking on his sleeping classmates (which is actually very sweet) while also trying to find his glasses, and said chapter establishes that Iida is in fact the one missing in this scene. because he’s wandering around tucking people in and shit. Kaminari is actually the one under the pile of pillows.

anyways, this is getting long and I haven’t even gotten into the real meat of this post yet, so I’ll just address a couple of the remaining arguments real quick.

but if he’s really that stupid how did he get into U.A.” - he studied!!! also he’s not really that stupid! he can be very bright, he’s just easily distracted.

L pose – as others have pointed out, this...

...is very likely just a variation of his finger gun pose, as seen here:

but even if it’s not, my rebuttal for the Stain argument applies here as well. my boy loves his memes. this would have been right in the midst of all the Deika City coverage, and the PLF probably took the opportunity to throw a few poses in there. it’s probably the trendy thing on Instagram right now. in any case, what it is not is proof that Kaminari is the person who broke into the U.A. offices and stole the staff schedule in order to facilitate the League’s planned invasion of USJ. nor is it proof of Kaminari being the one who gave away the training camp’s location. 

and segueing into the second part of this post now, this, IMO, is what so many of these traitor theories are missing. if you’re trying to identify who the U.A. traitor is, these are the two incidents you need to look at. I feel like a lot of people get swept up in what-if speculation, and forget what sparked this whole notion of there being a mole at U.A. in the first place. it’s specifically because of these two attacks, which could not have been planned without the assistance of an inside person providing information to the League from within UA. therefore, if we’re trying to identify who the traitor is, these are the only two questions we actually have to answer:

who, if anyone, had the opportunity to steal the staff schedule during Shigaraki’s break-in in chapter 12, and

who was it that gave away the training camp’s location and allowed Dabi and co. to invade and kidnap Bakugou?

that’s it. this, IMO, is what the focus should be on. and here’s the thing: while we still don’t have a definitive answer for the second question, we do have an answer for the first, and Horikoshi gave it to us all the way back in that same chapter.

but before I get to that, let’s back up and revisit that memorable incident. recall, if you will, the events that took place on the day of the break-in. class 1-A voted on a class president, and afterwards, during their lunch period, the security alarm went off as a result of Tomura doing this to the door and allowing the press to swarm the school:

initially, Rat Principal speculates as to whether a villain might have taken the opportunity to sneak in. but given the later incident at the training camp, as Present Mic rightly points out, it’s far more likely that there is a traitor in their midst instead. someone who had both the means and opportunity to take advantage of the chaos caused by the press, and somehow steal a copy of the staff schedule from right under U.A.’s nose.

given that this same person is almost certainly the one who later on gave the training camp info to the villains as well, this narrows down the field of potential suspects to either one of the teachers, or a student from class 1-A or 1-B. obviously if it’s a teacher then it could be any one of them, so there’s really no point in trying to narrow it down. the same goes for 1-B since we’re not even introduced to them until the following arc and we have no idea what they were doing during this incident. so for now, the question becomes: which, if any of the class 1-A kids had the opportunity to steal the schedule during chapter 12?

and for the answer, we need only revisit the class president voting records:

incidentally, this is something I can’t take credit for, because it was Viz’s translator Caleb Cook who originally pointed it out on his Twitter. but anyways. just in case this isn’t clear, the results are as following: 

3 votes - Deku (himself, Ochako, and Iida)

2 votes - Yaomomo (herself, and Shouto)

1 vote - Jirou, Tsuyu, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugou, Sero, Kirishima, Tokoyami, Mineta, Satou, Kouda, Mina, Shouji, and Aoyama

for anyone doing the math, that is... nineteen votes.

curious, for a class consisting of twenty kids. and downright suspicious given the events that take place less than an hour later. assuming that each student voted for him or herself as implied, what this means is that every kid in class 1-A is accounted for on the day of the break-in, except one. and it’s not Kaminari.

it’s Hagakure.

Hagakure is not featured in any of the panels before or after the vote, either. true, she’s invisible, but she should still be wearing her uniform at the very least. but she is very distinctively the sole 1-A student unaccounted for during this chapter. Hagakure, whose quirk is invisibility. Hagakure, who could have easily slipped into the teacher’s office during the press onslaught and taken a copy of the schedule unnoticed. Hagakure, who is also one of only two people (the other being Aoyama) whose whereabouts are also unverified during the subsequent attack:

now this is where it gets really interesting. why would Hagakure’s location be deliberately withheld? especially since later on she says that she was actually with Todoroki the whole time:

unlike Aoyama, whose whereabouts remain a mystery because He Is Just Like That, Hagakure freely discloses her own whereabouts. the thing is though, if it wasn’t actually a secret, then why did Horikoshi go out of his way to omit it in the first place? there are other characters whose locations we only know because Horikoshi put them on the map. specifically Tokoyami and Kouda, who are never actually shown battling once they get warped away (at least not in the manga). yet despite this, their whereabouts aren’t a secret. it’s a deliberate choice by Horikoshi to not confirm where Hagakure actually is, and coming on the heels of her also being conspicuously MIA in chapter 12, this IMO is a huge red flag.

anyway, so now let’s fast forward to the training camp arc. now here, we do know where Hagakure ends up. specifically, she gets KOed by the gas along with Jirou. this makes her one of only two U.A. students who are not actually involved in the fighting either at the forest, or back at the lodge with Vlad. at first glance, that might appear to make her less suspicious. and it’s true that unlike the USJ arc, there is no evidence here that directly ties Hagakure to this particular invasion (though the same is true for pretty much everyone else as well). however, there are two things I would like to point out. the first is Hagakure and Jirou’s position in the test of courage lineup:

directly behind Todoroki and Bakugou (a.k.a. the League’s target). this would have put her in a good position to signal to the League when to attack. note that the attack didn’t commence until Baku and Todo had reached the midpoint of the trail, which results in their decision to press forward through the forest rather than turning back toward the start.

this is suspiciously good timing on the League’s part. it’s not confirmed they knew exactly when to strike -- they could have just gotten lucky -- but it’s something worth taking note of. 

and the second thing is that being so close to the League’s target would have made it difficult for Hagakure to escape without having to fight the League. and since she wasn’t alone, she couldn’t just run off and hide like during USJ. so it may be that she made the deliberate choice to let the poison gas take the two of them out instead, especially if she knew in advance that it wouldn’t actually be lethal. this gives her an alibi for the attack without putting her in the awkward position of potentially having to fight her own allies. all in all it’s making the best of a tricky situation.

lastly, here’s the thing that really clinches the whole theory for me, and it takes place a couple of days later. now remember, the purpose of this whole attack was for the League to kidnap Bakugou. they go to all that trouble, even losing three of their own members in the process. and what happens afterwards, barely two days later? the heroes track down the villains using Momo’s homing device and Naomasa’s fortuitous tip, and are able to get Bakugou back, albeit at great cost. all of that meticulous planning, only for the League to end up on the run, and with Tomura’s mentor taken captive to boot.

this seems like a huge oversight on behalf of the U.A. traitor if they knew about the heroes’ attack and didn’t think to warn the League. and the thing is, we know for a fact that every single member of class 1-A did know in advance, thanks to Kirishima and Shouto. every member that is, except two.

hmmm.

so, to reiterate. Hagakure Tooru:

has no alibi for the incident in chapter 12 during which someone stole the staff schedule as confirmed by Kurogiri in chapter 13

has no confirmed alibi for the USJ invasion

had the means and opportunity to pass along the training camp location to the villains, assuming she had a phone with GPS

is one of only two 1-A students who did not know that the heroes had tracked the villains’ location, and thus would not have been able to pass along that vital bit of info. we know that the villains were caught unawares by the heroes’ raid, so this is huge

so that’s three incidents (not counting the training camp location which admittedly anyone could have done) in which Hagakure is singled out as one of only a handful of people with no alibi during a critical moment. now granted, there are a handful of other candidates who could possibly fall under suspicion for same reasons. Aoyama’s whereabouts are also unknown during the USJ invasion, and Jirou was also knocked out during the training camp attack. however, Hagakure is the only one who lacks an alibi for all three incidents. and, crucially, she is the sole 1-A student who did not vote in the class president election, something which is never explained or even brought up but which is hidden in plain sight.

for these reasons, I pretty much have to conclude that Hagakure is the U.A. traitor. it just lines up. and for me, the difference between the Hagakure theory and the Kaminari theory is that the evidence for the former is based on actual events in the canon, whereas the Kami theory seems to mostly just be speculation about whether or not he’s secretly evil. and look, I have no idea whether or not Hagakure is evil. I have no clue why she’d be doing this. she seems nice (although it’s worth pointing out that we have no idea what she actually looks like, who her family is, or even how old she really is for that matter. her quirk is awfully convenient for being a spy). motive is definitely a big question mark here. but the fact remains that all of the evidence we have thus far points to one candidate, and that’s her.

anyways! so that’s the end of my post about the Kaminari traitor theory, I guess! basically, he is not the traitor for many reasons, but the most compelling one is that the actual traitor has already been confirmed in my book. anyhoo, this plot has more or less been on hold since chapter 98, so it’s been quite a while since we’ve had much to speak of in terms of new evidence. but as of 242 it looks like things may finally be on the move again, so that’s exciting. regardless of my opinion on the Kami theory, I’m excited that people are talking about this again, and I really can’t wait to see how things develop from here.

[27emailsicantsend]

Ghost of You: A Rina One Shot

Author’s Note: I recognize that recent events have caused backlash against the actor who plays Ricky. I have had this idea in my mind for awhile and wanted to write it, but my laptop has been out of commission. I finally have my laptop (somewhat) working again and this would be good practice to get my writing skills back up. In light of J*sh, please try and separate him from the character. This is solely about Ricky and Gina’s relationship in the show. Thank you!

Narrative: Prior to Ricky (21) and Gina’s breakup, they had been dating since high school. Long distance between the two schools in Los Angeles and New York caused busy schedules, then silence, then miscommunication, then fighting. This scene takes place two weeks post break-up in Ricky’s downtown New York apartment. Based on the song “Ghost of You” by Five Seconds of Summer.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

“Ricky, where are you?” 

“Ricky, are you ok? You haven’t been to class in weeks”.

“The test is due next week right?”

“Hey big man, your mom has been trying to get a hold of you. Call her back when you get a minute”.

“Ok,” I reply as I lay my phone back on it’s pillow. That pillow belonged to someone else. It’s my phone’s now. My stomach grumbles. I look at my phone one more time. 1:53 P.M. “Ughhh,” I moan as I rub my eyes. Rubbing doesn’t change them being swollen shut for two weeks. I want to fall back asleep, maybe I will fall back asleep, but she’s keeping me awake. I stretch- hoping my arm will accidentally hit her shoulder; instead it continues into thin air. My chest feels heavy. I sit up in hopes to relieve the pain, only to feel the heaviness carry through my body. At least I got out of bed today.

I begin to clean. Cleaning distracts me. Make my bed. Put some socks in the hamper. Open the curtains to some sunlight and traffic noise. I feel elevation in my spirit. I notice the mug. Tan lipstick (slightly smeared and mostly dry) above the gas station logo. I can still smell her brew. Black. Creamer. Dash of milk. Tablespoon of sweetener. “The sweeter it is, the sweeter I am”. I smile at her mantra. Not everything needs to be cleaned today.

Last weekend wasn’t supposed to be our last. We only fought when she was gone, but together we were synchronistic. Except last weekend. I look at the table’s spot where we practiced dancing. We pushed it to the other wall and I stepped on her toes for hours. She’s going to be a great ballet teacher. My eyes begin to water. I finally felt today.

I fill a glass with water. I fill a smaller one with tequila. I down the water. As I walk back to my bed, I see the hat on my dresser. I sit and stare at it. She made it so I wouldn’t feel cold. How about now? I look between the dresser and my potted plant- her cropped Led Zeppelin shirt. I found her at the subway station in this freshman year. She knew she couldn’t stay in New York. Her mom and her school were in L.A. Her heart belonged to L.A. Not to me. I go back to the kitchen where I downed the tequila today.

 My throat burns as I hear her laugh. My lips sting where she last kissed me. My heart pounds as I hold her shirt to my chest. She’s not coming back, so I need to move forward. I brush my teeth, put on my hoodie, and grab my skateboard- all while clinging onto that damn shirt. I throw the door open. Beautiful black curls greet me as a limp hand (ready to knock on my door) drops. “Ricky,” she says. She’s not a ghost today.