#I’m not saying it’s a lie but I couldn’t be more clear by not explicitly saying that that I think this is tomfoolery

[couthbbg]

hey deary! this tweet is likely why everyone's in panic mode - https://x.com/reporterchris/status/1788952764577456512

(if you're unable to view, the contents of the tweet are as follows: "Without saying it explicitly, the #leafs leadership/management couldn't have made it more clear reading between the lines that they're going to explore moving one or more members of their core this summer." )

LMAO - this tweet to me says: “I can’t say that leadership said they wanted to trade Mitch because they literally didn’t say that, but they couldn’t have made it more clear (by not saying it) bc I’m fluent in ‘body language’ like a lead actor in an early 2000s detective drama and I know that when they scratched their left ear twice they were saying bye bye #16, even tho (can’t stress this enough) they didn’t say that”

[ddollipop]

I DIG MY NAILS IN DYNAMITE. . . ! — ( MOIRA O'DEORAIN. )

#. synopsis! — if moira’s going to be forced to work the clinic, she’s going to do things her way: no matter how unconventional her methods may be. (malicious fucking compliance) .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , lesbian smut, female on female, dirty talk , slight begging , implied age difference , slight power imbalance , subtle medical setting , oral sex , cunnilingus , fingering , dom!moira , sub!reader , nipple sucking , some wall action , one-sided stimulation , giving preference (moira) , slight praise , sex in the workplace , finger sucking , sort of revenge sex .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

The clinical wing is hardly any of Moira’s responsibility. It wasn’t her idea, she had no intention of utilizing it herself, and the fact that she was being forced to work it alone for no less than ten hours a week was something akin to infuriating. If she didn’t already loathe Angela Ziegler and her fluffed up ideals about peace and prosperity, —she certainly did now. Because this was cutting into her time, and if there was one thing Moira couldn’t stand more than working with incompetent people: it was squandering her waking hours on fruitlessness. It was always the same things over and over and over again. You’d think a building full of well-educated men and women of science would have a better understanding of their own petty ailments by now, but no. . . 

Every slim bout of nausea, every headache onset, every tiny papercut, it seemed, was good enough a reason to come crying to her. And she’d had enough. It’s not to say that you were any more or less annoying than anyone else who’d stopped by that day, but there was something so nerve grinding about your presence, about the way you glanced around the white-walled exam room, that set Moira off.

“What’s wrong with you, exactly?” She questioned, —though it was painfully clear she was only asking out of obligation and was none too pleased to be doing so.

Her stern, uncaring expression almost had you forgetting the lie you’d cooked up while sitting there alone for a good ten minutes.

“I’ve got um. . . A headache and I’m feeling a little dizzy,” you reply.

She notices how uncertain you sound of it, and her eyes narrow at you, regarding you suspiciously.

“Is that a question or a statement?” She asks bluntly, mincing no words in the process.

“A statement,” you answer, tacking on a soft apology that she doesn't care enough about to acknowledge.

“How long has this been going on?” 

“A few hours, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

You’re really starting to wish you could just sink into the exam table and disappear. Even more than that, you’re cursing Doctor Ziegler for putting you up to this, —for deciding that you were just innocent looking enough to play a fools game with this woman before you. You’re certain now that the extra pay is hardly worth putting yourself through this just to see if Moira is really taking her position in the clinic seriously.

“A few hours,” you repeat, dropping the rest; but you know it’s already too late.

She’s annoyed with you. She’s sick of it here in this tiny room, and all she wants to do is put a stop to this ridiculousness and make use of her time her way. . . Which gets the cogs turning in her mind. If she has to be here, Moira’s going to make the most of it, —and what better way than to indulge herself in the sweetest little patient that’s set foot in here all day? It’ll be a bit before her clinic hours are up for now, and she’d much rather spend that time tying up some of her own loose ends than playing into Angela’s surprisingly spiteful hands.

“It’s a bit warm in here, no?” She says suddenly, straightening her back and standing to her full height as she shrugs off her lab coat.

“Uh. . . Yeah? A little, I guess,” you reply uncertainly, trying your best not to stare as she drapes the shed garment over the back of a chair and masterfully unbuttons the top of her white dress shirt.

The fabric is loose, and it sits against her pale skin like silken sheets atop a mattress. For all Moira is known for being: —cruel, sarcastic, brilliant, blunt— you can’t help but wonder why attractive doesn’t tend to make the shortlist. It’s far from the first time something like that has ever crossed your mind, of course, having worked in her vicinity for several months now, but it is the first time you’ve ever felt your insides twist themselves into pretzels at the sight of her.

She’s so tall, and even without the height, her personality alone commands the space she physically takes up. Moira is the kind of woman who doesn’t ask for what she desires, but simply demands it, and there’s something very stirring about that in a way you can’t quite seem to put your finger on.

“You guess, do you?” She raises an eyebrow, throwing you a blank glance.

Her hands come down to grip the edge of the exam table, the crinkly paper shuffling under the new pressure. She’s close enough now that you can feel her breath ghost against you, and somehow, her unchanging expression feels ten times more spine-tingling now that she’s less far away.

“Is there anything you’re certain of, y/n?” She questions, —and heaven help you, the way she says your name has your thighs itching to squeeze together where you sit.

“I-I. . .” You stutter pitifully, lost for words now that she's this close, eyes ghosting around her face, then around the room, just hoping to avoid her gaze.

“You. . .?” She prompts in a surprisingly gentle tone, removing one hand from the exam table to grab your face.

It's not a violent gesture, nor much of an unwelcome one, as her thumb sits on one cheek and four fingers press against the other. She steadies your head with the grasp, forcing the direction straight ahead, and your eyes naturally follow in suit. Moira can feel the way you swallow, watching as your throat moves to push the saliva down, and something akin to dangerous blossoms within her.

“You're a pretty girl,” she tells you. 

Somehow, the tone she uses when she says it makes it feel less like a compliment and more like a statement of fact.

“It's too bad you're such a quiet thing. I'm sure under the right circumstances, your voice is quite sweet.”

Anything you could have thought to say in reply seems to all but die on your tongue or lodge in your throat. A shiver creeps up your spine, tingling under your skin, scattering goosebumps all across your body.

“Do you have any idea how tiring this is?” She asks, standing to her full height again, clarifying quickly: “Working in this clinic? When I, of all people, should be doing something of actual substance. Forgive me if your headache isn't as interesting to me as my own endeavors, —but you must realize how pathetic it is to come crawling to me about something so minute.”

Finally, you work up the nerve to speak back again.

“I'm sure it must be frustrating,” you answer. “I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, Doctor, I just. . .”

I didn't have much of a say in the matter. 

She sighs. 

“Did nobody ever teach you how to finish your sentences?” She asks, sounding rather incredulous. “Either out with it, or let me put your mouth to some proper use.”

You're not really sure what that's supposed to mean, but it's not as if you have much to say at the moment anyway. Anything you could have mustered up has gone out the window, drained like a pin-pricked egg.

A smirk tugs on her lips at your silence.

“Open,” she directs, a folded index finger sneaking under your chin and a thumb dragging your bottom lip down a bit.

In the moment, you hardly register the command, but somehow you manage to blink yourself back to reality fast enough to part your lips without her having to ask again. (Though asking wasn't really what she'd even done in the first place.) 

“Good,” Moira hums, appearing all too pleased with herself, “it seems you’re capable of following directions.”

Having acknowledged that much, she sneaks that thumb up, letting it pass your lips and nudge at your tongue, feeling the warm wetness of your mouth. You feel yourself burning up, and Moira presses in until the pointed middle knuckle of her thumb is barely ghosting below your cupid's bow.

“Close,” she demands, —and you do, suckling on the heat of her hand, eyes scaling up to her face.

She seems much too delighted by this, albeit in a subdued sense of the word. There’s always been an air of cockiness about her, but this really took the cake and ran with it, like she was so proud to have suckered you in even this deep. It’s then that you’re forced to question whether this is some kind of sick joke, or if she’s truly just that bored here in the clinical wing. It’s obviously not her favorite place to be, but doing all of this on the clock to make the time pass by faster is a little bit of a stretch, even for someone like her.

Moira glides her thumb to and fro, watching the way your lips move with her, still clasped around her digit so beautifully. She thinks to herself that you really are just such a pretty girl.

“Aren’t you just a sweet, obedient thing?” She muses, finally letting her lips curve upward completely.

You hum instinctively, and she can feel the vibration as it resonates from the back of your throat.

“Oh?” She cocks her head to the side, raising a single eyebrow, “was that meant to be defiant? Or perhaps just a correction, —that you’re only this malleable for me?”

She loves the way you look so dazed by every word she speaks, like you’re trying to interpret a foreign language. You’re so mystified by her very presence this close up, as if you can’t decide if she’s real or not.

Eventually, Moira decides she’s had enough and utters “open” again, to which you comply quickly, letting her thumb make its way out from between your lips. Ever the inquisitive woman, she rubs her thumb against her index finger, tapping them together, letting your leftover saliva string between them.

“Y/n,” she murmurs, turning that duel-colored stare directly on you so intently, “—don’t play so coy. There comes a time when every woman must stop begging for the things she desires, and I’m tired of your eyes begging for what your mouth refuses to ask of me.”

Your lips part now, brain convinced you have a solid idea of what you’re supposed to be requesting of her. Though your head is still swimming and a part of you just knows you’re better off leaving things here, as they are, you’re only human. . . So you let your shaky hands come up to grasp at the fabric of her partially unbuttoned shirt, and you pull her inward, not once, but twice, until her face is so close to yours that you’re practically sharing the same breath.

There’s a pause when you don’t make the final move to kiss her, half expecting that she’d have taken over by now, but she offers a low chuckle and snakes a hand up her torso, grasping at your own. It’s gentle for a moment —but only for a moment— before she forces your grip away in a single motion, the other hand wrapping around your free wrist, and pinning either of your hands down against the examination table.

“Go on,” she presses, “stop being so polite. Take what it is we both know you want. Do lions ask nicely before they tear their prey apart?”

You wonder which one you’re supposed to be in this scenario, —the lion or the prey. With the way she’s staring at you, you get the feeling it’s the latter. . .

Closer, closer, you lean, until Moira’s mouth is barely touching your own in a sort of off-handed, almost kiss that isn’t quite coming to fruition. Your neck is craned as far as your body will allow, and you feel the little tuft of amused breath that passes her nostrils ghost against your skin.

“You really are just incredibly novel, did you know that?” She asks, pressure increasing on your pinned down wrists as she finally goes in for the kill.

Her lips are surprisingly soft, and slightly sticky from the remnants of her off-orange lipstick. Even the way she kisses you commands a certain level of respect, and you hope to honor that by keeping up, letting your body react naturally to any and all of her ministrations. When her tongue slips into your mouth, you hardly startle at the feeling, letting her lick and taste as she pleases. The way she does so is like she can’t get enough, —and it crosses your mind very briefly that you may be the first person she’s come on to in quite a while.

Her job is demanding, and overwhelmingly isolating, after all. ..

Having stained your lips enough, both with her bruising kisses and the tangerine-ajacent cosmetics on her mouth, she pulls away for the briefest of moments, only to descend upon your neck like it was glazen with sugar. You can’t help the little gasp that escapes you, or the soft moan that follows, —or the way your hand reaches up to bury the fingers in those fiery strands of hair now that hers are no longer pinning yours down.

“Moira,” you hiss lightly, “—ah.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have never uttered her name so plainly in lieu of her title, but with the way she was wearing you thin and prying you open with such apparent ease, you doubted she’d care much if you stepped over a line previously drawn in the sand. As far as you could tell, you were already lost at sea anyhow. 

It’s not much of anything, but you feel her smirk against your skin, then murmur: “She does speak.”

You’re on fire, inside and out, burning up so badly you fear there’ll be nothing left but ashes by the time she’s finished with you. Silently, you think it might be best for you to put a stop to this before it ends up going too far; before each of you are drowning so deep there’s no way to break the surface. Your lips part, ready to put an end to it all, —knowing you should. . . But you can’t. Not when she looks you over like you really are just her prey for the taking, for the feasting, the devouring.

“Darling,” she murmurs, tracing the back of her finger down your cheek, caressing you softly, “don’t be so shy. Learn to take what you want without pleading.”

Even then, it’s less of a suggestion and more of a subtle demand.

“I—” you start, but swallow just as quickly.

Sucking in a breath, you let your hands do the talking, gracing the flushed skin of her neck, then ghosting just above her sharp collar bones that peak out from her unbuttoned blouse. Before you have the wherewithal to tell yourself to stop, your shaky fingers begin fiddling with the rest of the clasps, going further down until you see the top of her bra (a simple, black garment, in true Moira fashion.) There’s something so stunning about the way colors lie against her, as if melding into her flesh, bending to her will.

She doesn’t stop you from unfastening the buttons, revealing more of her as you continue downward. She’s got no complaints to utter, no reservations present in her body language, and she sheds the top entirely when the last one has come undone. Moira takes a step back, tossing her shirt onto the small countertop, one of the sleeves dangling over into the sink. You take her fleeting absence from your body as an opportunity to admire her, —the sharp, almost jagged edges she carries around like swords. She’s so tall and slender, so striking in the way she moves as if everything is calculated and she doesn’t doubt for a moment that the world is ready to mold to her every wish and whim.

“Something to say?” She cocks a brow, tone smooth and almost melodic, that hint of an Irish accent clinging to every word.

Your mouth still feels dry, but you force yourself to say what’s on your mind, —even at the risk of coming across like some lovesick schoolgirl.

“I just think you’re pretty,” you answer.

Her lips quirk into another smirk at the compliment, and she runs a hand through her hair, letting you admire the motion.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” she replies.

It didn’t feel kind when you said it, really. . . It just felt true.

“Come,” she beckons, coaxing you off the exam table and closer to the wall, pressing your back against it.

It’s cold to the touch, but it does little to quench the fire still roaring in your guts. What’s more, you’re not entirely sure you want it to stop now anyway. From the corner of your eye, you can see one of Moira’s lengthy arms reach out to tap the middle of the doorknob with a long-nailed finger, popping the lock into place. You assume that signifies a sealed deal of sorts. . . That there’s no going back now; and heaven knows you’re not trying to.

Moira’s hands find their way to your waist, pressing firmly for a bit as she kisses you again; albeit somewhat slower and more intimately than before. It feels more like the kind of kiss you’d give a lover to show affection than one you’d throw at a midday fling. There’s little time to dwell on the thought, however, as she snakes herself between your thighs, dancing over the fabric of your dress pants.

Your breathing hitches a little at the feeling, your skin heating up, and Moira grins to herself before letting her fingers trail upward and curl inward, grabbing at your sweater. Untucking it from your pants, the elder woman pulls it up, looks to you for approval, then finishes the job as she yanks it over your head and tosses it back onto the examination table. The crinkly paper shuffles for a moment, and the sound is almost thunderous over the duet of breaths and heartbeats across the room.

She murmurs something about how lovely you are that you don’t quite catch, —but the real compliment comes from the way her eyes trace across your body, soaking up every inch so earnestly.

When you reach behind her slim back, fiddling with the clasp of her bra, she gives a hum of amusement.

“Eager one, aren’t you?” She asks, voice dripping with the only kind of condescension that tastes so sweet.

“I can’t help it,” you breathe quickly, almost in embarrassment, but still lacking the humility it would have otherwise carried.

You manage to tear the clasp open and the straps on her shoulders slump off. Moira readily tugs them down and sheds the last garment on her upper half, letting your eyes rake over the slight curve of her breasts. They’re not large by any means, but they suit her body so nicely, sitting perfectly on her chest with pinkish nipples you can’t help but think about clasping your mouth around.

She seems pleasantly surprised when you make the first move to do just that, even placing a long-nailed hand on the back of your head, guiding you to her body. As you offer a lick to the left one with the flat of your saliva-laden tongue, she lets out a soft breath, stroking your hair softly as if to encourage you to keep going. You do as she silently asks, parting your lips again and taking her in your mouth, suckling on one, then giving the same attention to the other. She seems to like the way you swirl your tongue, so you do it again, and again, and again, until Moira decides that this just isn’t suiting her fancy any longer.

“Good girl,” she mumbles, even when she’s pushing you away and tugging your bra off with ease.

This time, she doesn’t bother tossing the article of clothing onto the exam table behind her, she simply lets it hit the ground to join her own. Thankfully, the sanitation of the labs, and subsequently the clinical wing, has always been solid as can be.

With a clawed hand, she covers your mouth and keeps your head pinned back against the wall, ducking down to repay the favor. She takes her time reaching your breasts, but it’s hard to mind when she’s busy sucking love bites in a trail down your neck and upper chest. She bites your shoulder, feels you moan against her palm, then does it again to draw the sound from your throat once more.

When she finally takes a single nipple between her teeth, the sensation alone has you seeing stars. Her mouth is so wet and warm, so surprisingly inviting, and she’s so skilled with every little flick. Her free hand works what her mouth doesn’t, careful not to scratch or jab you with her nails. She stays attached for much longer than she allowed you to be, and it crosses your mind that Moira may not be much into the whole receiving end of things. Whatever the case, she looks too pretty like this, with her mouth leaving the rest of her faint lipstick around your nipples and on the column of your neck, for you to think too much of it (or be disappointed by it.)

You really couldn’t tell if all this passion and fervor was born of spite against Angela for setting this clinic up in the first place and making Moira work in it, the general frustration of being away from her own endeavors for so long today, the pent up ardor releasing after a dry spell, —or maybe some mixture of all of that and then some. Whatever the case, Moira wasn’t skimping on a single detail, and you were going to be the last person on the face of the planet to complain about that.

As she unbuttoned your pants and began to tug them down, allowing them to cling around your thighs, you were quick to take over and shed your own clothing at her silent demand. You were thankful you’d worn open-toed heels that day, knowing it wouldn’t have been as sexy if you’d had to have taken the time to slip your socks off during this little process. Moira doesn’t make any moves to mimic you, instead resigning herself to watching and holding herself back from touching.

When everything’s shed, you unconsciously cover yourself with your arms a bit, not necessarily to hide away from her gaze, but out of little more than whatever few shreds of humility you have left.

“Don’t be bashful,” she says firmly, grasping each of your wrists and planting your arms at your sides.

The transition back to the table feels like a blur, —a rush of so much at once that your mind goes a little foggy and the sound of that damn crinkly paper being pushed back to the top, along with the stray clothes, hardly registers above the ache in your core and the coolness of the floor beneath your bare feet. She instructs you to sit, and you do, and when she tells you to come closer to the edge and spread your legs, you do that as well.

“You’re so obedient,” she comments with a half-smile, trailing a finger down the barren skin of your inner thigh, sending shivers across your skin. “We could use more employees like you around here.”

A part of you can’t help but hope, in the moment, that those people never come around, that they never land positions in the lab, just so this endeavor can be your burden to carry alone. This side of Moira is still intimidating, but there’s a softness to be found in the way she looks at you, the way she mumbles little compliments against your skin, —the way she treats you like you’re made of something fragile.

She parts your lips with two of her long fingers, taking a moment to admire the way arousal has slicked your folds up so beautifully. It’s been a while since she’s seen firsthand the impact she can have on a woman, and your wetness strokes her ego more than it probably should have.

The moment the flat of her tongue pressed against you, your toes curled inward and your head fell back, a few breathy moans making your chest stutter. Through half-lidded eyes, you could only watch in bliss as Moira glanced up at you, her mouth suctioned around your needy little cunt, feeling every twitch and licking up every bit of juice.

“Oh my God,” you huff, reaching forward with one hand to grasp at Moira’s hair.

She seems to like the way you vocalize, and the way you grab at her like it’s something natural, even when it really isn’t. Her tongue works in circles, then lines, then a million other shapes and directions in a single moment, and you feel your body quiver from the tension.

A part of you feels pathetic, but it really can’t be helped that she’s already pushed you to the edge. Weeks of work had given you little time to yourself, and what time you had managed had been spent sleeping, eating, or trying to catch up on things you enjoyed in your personal life. Taking care of your more intimate needs just hadn’t really entered the equation as of late, but now all of that build-up was really showing its true colors (and so quickly at that.)

“I—” you suck in a breath, “I’m gonna cum—”

And she reaches around from the top, her arm hooked under your left thigh, pressing the pad of her thumb ever so carefully against your swollen clit.

You toss your head back and bite your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Your free hand grasps for one of your breasts, pinching a nipple between your fingers, letting her drive that stake in so fucking deep that you can feel your insides melting away into ecstasy. Her thumb massaging your clit, her tongue swirling around just below, and the utter depravity of having sex with your boss’s most disgruntled co-worker leaves you cumming on her face, muscles releasing all their tension and melding away into this fantasy world with her.

Oh, but she’s not done, —because of course she’s not. The quiver in your thighs isn’t steady enough, and she hasn’t felt you clench around her fingers, hasn’t felt you tug on her hair hard enough to rip some of the strands from her scalp, hasn’t quite had her fill of you just yet.

Moira brings her hand to her mouth, tearing the middle two nails off with her teeth and spitting them onto the ground beside the examination table. That’s probably a lot hotter than it should be right now, but there’s something about the way she tugs them off so effortlessly, grasping them between her canines, that has your core sopping at the sight of it.

“Just lay back,” she requests.

You do, without question, and you hear her offer up a low chuckle that resonates from the back of her throat.

“You’d just do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you?” She asks, amusement clinging to every word.

“Yeah, probably,” you reply breathily, —and perhaps a bit too honestly.

But she likes that.

Moira pushes your thighs apart like they’re less so parts of your body and more so obstacles getting in the way of what she wants. She stands to her full height for a moment or two, but her back curves downward and she lowers herself over top of you as she flips her hand palm-side up and sinks those two de-nailed fingers inside your cunt. Your accumulated wetness allows for such an easy entrance, and she pauses for a moment at the hilt of her hand to relish in the way your walls thrub around her digits, almost pulsating, begging for more.

If there’s ever been something Moira has been happy to comply with, —it was this. She lets you adjust, but just barely so, and then pulls back a bit, letting the friction elicit a few soft moans from you.

“Fuck,” you whimper, eyes rolling back a bit, cunt clenching around Moira’s lengthy fingers, the ones she knows how to work so well inside you.

It once again seems like every move she makes is calculated and precise, evoking something so primal inside you, unleashing some kind of desirous beast that just can’t get enough of her.

And there you are on this uncomfortable exam table in this God forsaken clinical wing that neither you nor Moira have ever been very fond of, bare back pressed against the weirdly textured leather, dripping and convulsing around the lecherous fingers of the same woman you’ve heard nothing but complaints about from your boss since you first began working under her. You’re sure that if Doctor Ziegler could see you now, she’d have you fired on the spot, —and something about that makes this so much fucking hotter.

You’re whimpering at every touch, so vulnerable for her eyes only. She prods at every inch of your insides she can touch, moving her fingers in time with every little noise that’s ripped from your throat, leaving you moaning like a slut in heat; and the cycle continues until your body has just had more than enough.

“Moira, I—” a breath cuts you off, nails scraping against that odd-feeling leather beneath you. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, holy shit—”

She doesn’t stop. She wouldn’t even dream of it when you’re begging like that, when the pretty pussy she’s hammering out with two fingers is just begging for every ounce of her desire and attention.

The knot inside you unravels, and she basks in the way you spasm around her digits, back arching up off the table. Moira lets you ride it out before slipping out, drawing a few lines up and down your glistening slit before pulling her hand away and reaching for the paper towl dispenser that hangs on the wall. She pats her hand dry and silently collects the clothes strewn about the room.

It takes a moment for you to get your bearings, but you manage to redress without making a fool of yourself.

“A word of advice,” Moira finally speaks, “you’re a good time, and I’m sure an adaquate employee, —but acting isn’t much your forte. Next time Angela sends you here to spy on me, spare me the pleasantries and let’s just skip to the good part.”

You can feel your ears burning, but you force a nod anyway.

“Yes, Doctor.”

[demonicintegrity]

Just saw a tiktok comment that said “it’d be great if people got over 9/11 as fast as they get over school shootings.”

And I’m not gonna lie, that stunned me. Holy shit that was a comment. That did shift my perspective on things so I looked up a few things:

Death toll of 9/11: 2,977

Number of anti Muslim hate crime in 2001: 481 (it was just 28 incidents the year before.) (and 2015 anti Muslim hate crime jumped to post 9/11 levels and then anti-Muslims assaults surpassed the 9/11 levels in 2016) I tried finding if there was a death toll associated with this but couldn’t.

Hate crime instances in 2021 alone (for any reason): 7,262

Death toll from school shootings (includes suicides and domestic violence): 279

Total death toll from Covid-19 in the US alone: 1,174,691 (do you remember hearing “a 9/11 a day” at some point? Cuz I do)

I can’t find an exact number of people who’ve died as a result of roe v wade being overturned but I know there are deaths because of it.

Death toll of Hurricane Katrina: 1,245-1,836

Death toll of HIV/AIDS: 65,000 in 1995 alone, 675,000 total now

And I want to be clear: I’m not trying to rank any of these tragedies as more devastating than the others. All of them are horrific and tragic for their own reasons. All of them deserve the grief and mourning that comes with them. But only one of them is given the most attention. A national remembrance every year, written into the curriculum of schools, and never allowed to be scoffed at or joked about. Only one of them explicitly told to never be forgotten.

But everything else is allowed to be brushed off, even when the effects are felt currently. When I was a child I didn’t worry about terrorism, I worried about school shootings. Because they were happening. Sometimes even the county right beside mine, sometimes my school would go on lockdown for an outside incident. But people would swear up and down until they were blue in the face that I and my peers were being over dramatic. (But god forbid we didn’t give 9/11 the respect it deserved. God forbid we didn’t stand for the pledge.)

I got scoffed at by my mom when I said I have to consider politics when thinking about where I want to live because I’m queer. That wasn’t a real issue.

These are all real issues. But only one is given the national attention of being a real issue. Hell if you bring up any of the other ones it’s only a matter of time before someone says “you’re living in the past” or “that’s just how it is.” And I think that makes reconsidering how we address things as a country.

[28dayslater]

Okay maybe I’m gonna sound like a lunatic but hear me out here. This is my terror theory:

Hickey never killed anyone.

Gibson: he was dying anyway so this was purely a noble, heroic act of euthanasia to ease his suffering. Vets do this, we don’t call them murderers. But maybe we should?

Macdonald: explicitly an accident! 😁 and he looked like he felt really bad about it too

The dog: he said it broke its leg and as Mr Hickey is such a trustworthy and reliable member of the crew I believe him. I simply don’t think he would lie to a senior officer.

Farr: we didn’t see it happen so who’s to say he didn’t collapse from an undiagnosed heart condition and Hickey was kneeling over him with a knife in hand to perform emergency surgery? And he was half naked because he gave Farr his clothes to keep him warm? What a generous individual!

Irving: he was homophobic and Hickey’s a gay man so I think we can all agree that stabbing him 23 times in the chest was an act of self defence. Next!

The Netsilik family: this one was hard I can’t lie. However you spin it it’s just bad optics to kill a six year old. But… we never see it on screen, it happens between episodes. So, no one can say for sure that Irving didn’t turn out to just be asleep instead of dead, and got up and killed the family, perhaps because he thought they were gay, and then Hickey bravely killed him to end his rampage. We just don’t know!

Everyone killed in Tuunbaq’s attack on the camp: now it’s very easy to lay the blame at Hickey’s feet for invoking Tuunbaq’s wrath. But we’ve already discussed how this is Irving’s fault instead so let’s move on. His revenge from beyond the grave to clear out all the gays on the expedition. Shameful.

Everyone killed in Tuunbaq’s final attack (Tozer, Hodgson, Armitage etc): you could argue this is even more Hickey’s fault than the last one. And it’s true that he did take them all there, chain them together so they couldn’t escape, and deliberately call Tuunbaq to their location. Certainly none of those men would have died right then if he hadn’t done that. But let’s take a look at the bigger picture. Would those men have died at all if Sir John had listened to Crozier and turned the ships around so they didn’t get stuck in pack ice? NO. And frankly I think trying to pin it on a working class gay man when the true culprit is upper class and straight is very telling. Try examining your prejudices.

[waywardsummoner46]

Liar

Pairing: Khan Noonien Singh x Reader

Summary: “You were right, Lieutenant.”  

    Turning, you regarded him curiously. “I am a liar.”

Word Count: 942

Warnings: None apart from overprotective Kirk. 

A/N: *sigh* Hey guys, I am alive. I’m trying to get some stuff out so here is something I wrote ages ago. This character isn’t especially popular but it is Benedict Cumberbatch so I had to. As always, enjoy and let me know what you think.

“Commanders.”

  “Lieutenant,” you greeted the crew mates. “The captain has requested that I speak to the prisoner… alone, if you will.” 

  Both red shirted men looked a bit shocked, perhaps even suspicious, but the words of a higher ranking officer caused them to heed your words. Out of respect and duty. 

  They both nodded and with reassurance that they’d be just outside if you needed them, they left the holding bay where you stood. 

  The silence was deafening; before coming here, you’d had a concrete and confident plan and now, standing before… him… that confidence had been thrown out of the air lock. You couldn’t even turn around and face him. 

  Light, muffled footsteps echoed behind you, causing you to draw in a breath to compose yourself. “Lying to your crew, Lieutenant?” 

  His voice was infuriatingly calm. As though nothing was wrong, as though his life wasn’t in other peoples’ hands. Unfortunately, it urged you to turn and face him for the first time since the Klingon battle. 

  “I told no lie, Harrison.”

  His head titled slightly, eyes just a little bit too invasive, too observant. 

  “No?”

  Narrowing your eyes, you approached his cell. “No,” you said through gritted teeth. “I did not lie… I twisted the truth.”

  His own eyes narrowed, but not in anger, in amusement. You were amusing him - this criminal who had murdered innocent men and women, children, was finding childish amusement at your words. Despite your evident vexation, he had the gall to agitate you further. 

  “I am not the liar here, Harrison.” 

  He didn’t say anything for a while, merely scanning your face with his squinted eyes. “I must say, Lieutenant, I underestimated you.” 

  Were you supposed to take that as a compliment? 

  “Flattery won’t help you, John. Only the truth will,” you said, walking towards his cell so that only the thin glass separated you two. “I know you wouldn’t be here if it didn’t benefit you somehow. Considering how the mention, the specification, of the number of torpedos caused your surrender, I’d wager that there’s something about them you’d like to get your hand on.”

  At your accusation, his eyes bore into your own. The intensity of his cerulean eyes almost made you waver but you were in too deep. You needed to know why he was so caught up on those torpedos. 

  “Your perception might have saved your life, little one,” he muttered darkly, almost to himself. But you heard. 

  “I suggest you address me as my rank, John.”

  “Or what?” He was quick to respond. Somehow, he seemed genuinely curious to your response. 

  You opened your mouth to respond but the door slid open before you could, and in walked in Captain James Kirk himself. And he looked fuming. 

  “Captain, I can expla-“

  “You were explicitly told to interrogate the prisoner with someone else in the room.” Oh yeah, he was pissed. Served you right, however you were doing it for his benefit - he’d never see it like that, though. 

  His eyes were aflame. Deep down, you recognised the emotion behind his eyes as concern but in front of Harrison? That was weakness. John Harrison was an extremely dangerous individual who could and would use any little thing he could to exploit you. In conclusion, he acted angry. 

   In truth, he probably was a little angry. His instructions were quite clear, yet you’d never been good at following the rules. Just like him. Oh, the irony. 

  “In my defence, the prisoner wouldn’t have spoken as freely as he had been if there were other people in the room. I was gathering information, valuable informat-“ 

  Interrupting you once more, he ground out, “Information that would be useless if you were dead.” 

  Exasperation overwhelmed you, to the point where you forgot Harrison was in the room. “Oh, come on, James! You’ve got to stop with this, I’m perfectly capable of dealing with this. I’m safe! That glass is of the highest quality, he isn’t getting out of there anytime soon.” 

  “You should listen to her, Captain,” John piped up from his cell, arms crossed behind his back and posture disturbingly straight. Subconsciously, you straightened (at his words or his posture, you didn’t know) and the microscopic crinkle of his eyes told you that he was amused… again. 

  “I have a feeling that the Lieutenant would kill me before I even took a step out of this cell, should I escape.”

  James’s anger levels reached livid and he glared daggers at the other man. Surprisingly, his next words weren’t addressed to him but to someone else: “Spock? Please escort Lieutenant (Y/N) to her chambers. She’ll be staying there for the rest of the evening.” 

  You gaped at him in disbelief and began to protest but Spock grabbed your hand and you felt a jolt run up your arm. 

  He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Please, Lieutenant.” Curse Spock and his painfully monotone yet concerned words. 

  Nodding slowly in a resigned way, you glanced one more time at John. You met his gaze, a chilling feeling spread through you once you realised he hadn’t looked away once. 

   “Lieutenant,” he nodded at you. You ignored it although you continued to stare. 

  Spock and yourself were nearly out of the door when he broke the tense silence again. “You were right, Lieutenant.”

  Turning, you regarded him curiously. 

  “I am a liar,” his words were proud. “Khan.” He said it so impassively that it took you a while to process his word. 

  “Pardon?” 

  He smiled, genuinely. “My name… is Khan.”

[latte-to-go]

the art of loving you [alcina dimitrescu]

summary ━━━ sometimes, it was difficult for you to tell if what you and lady dimitrescu, or alcina as she has allowed you to call her, had was love. it remained a lingering thought in your mind as her daughters continued to call you their mother’s ‘human play-thing’ and most days, you let it not get to you. but, it was difficult to ignore that fateful night and the lady of the house had easily noticed something was upsetting her little pet.

pairing ━━━ alcina dimitrescu x reader.

words ━━━ 1612

fandom ━━━ resident evil.

warnings ━━━ pure fluff, honestly. but, it has some hints of nsfw vibes but it doesn't go into them.

author's note ━━━ lady dimitrescu owns my heart and I have spent so much time reading fanfics about her that I just needed to write one of my own. who knew a tall sexy vampire lady would be what broke my hiatus and brought me back to tumblr? but, I am here to stay and I am so excited to write more reader inserts! and to continue to fill requests! for now, my requests are open! but, I will probably write a lot more for alcina as well! so, I haven't finished resident evil village yet because of how busy I am with work and that might make the characters a little out of character! but I couldn't wait to write about alcina! hopefully, I will have the game finished soon! some things have been spoiled for me already, but a lot of the game is still unknown because I am still in the very beginning of the game where ethan just gets to the village. but, I still hope you all enjoy this one-shot! it's just fluff between the reader and our lady!

DARK CLOUDS LOOMED AGAINST THE HORIZON, matching the catastrophic thoughts that lingered in the back of your mind as you numbly flipped the pages to the book you had tried so hard to distract yourself with. But, your mind had not retained any of the words written on the yellowed pages as your mind stayed on the woman that held every inch of your heart. With a sigh, you turned your gaze out the window instead. The window pane was cold to the touch, courtesy of the snow that remained a constant of the land.

It had only been two years since you had arrived at Castle Dimitrescu ━━ a mistake, truly. At least, at first, it had been as you stumbled across the maidens that the grandiose home belonged to. It should have been the last night of your life, but the lady of the house had taken a keen interest in you. You had not understood it at first, but you had grown attached to Alcina Dimitrescu and her… mysterious ways. Perhaps, you would even go as far as to call it love at first sight. And, you had thought she had felt the same way with her sweet words and burning touches. But, then doubt had become to creep into the dark crevices of your relationship with the woman.

It was often her daughters teased you, complaining about how they couldn’t stand to hear the beat of your heart. But, their mother had explicitly forbidden them from touching you. Though, you did not feel unsafe around them and had grown to trust and like each of them. But, their words tended to hurt whenever they referred to you as their mother’s play-thing. It was as if there was a timer on your life and it wouldn’t be long till Alcina grew bored of your presence and decided it was your time to join the dead.

“The day has come and gone and you have yet to leave our bedroom,” the regal voice belonging to Alcina echoed throughout the room, startling you at your spot in the window sill. She stood tall with her golden eyes watching your every move, making you hold your breath as you waited for her to speak. With long strides, she quickly reached the window as she looked down at you with an unreadable expression. Regardless of your height, you always dwarfed in comparison to her as she stood taller than most she came across. But, she looked even taller whilst you sat. She leaned down, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. When she pulled back, her gaze met yours. “Has something happened?”

“No,” the word quickly left your lips as your felt your cheeks burn at the sudden closeness. Her scent of her old vintage lavender perfume with hints of blood filled your nose ━━ the old mixture had become a comfort for you. With a clear of your throat, you continued to speak. “Everything is fine.”

A hum left her red lips, seemingly vibrating every sense of your being. With two fingers, she trailed against your jaw as she continued to stare at your parted lips. “You should know better than to lie to me, my darling.”

“I do not wish to bother you with my human problems,” you muttered bitterly, pushing her fingers off your skin. For a moment, her eyes flashed with an unknown emotion but she did not utter a word as she took a step back to create space between the two of you.

“So, something has happened,” Alcina commented, standing to her feet as she towered over you again. It made you feel small in every sense as a wave of tears made their presence known. Hiding them from her was futile as she continued to watch, making you sniffle as you tried to wipe them away. “Tell me, who has hurt you?”

“No one.” It wasn’t like you to throw her daughters underneath the bus because of some harsh words. After all, you needed to be stronger than that.

Her hand reached forward, wiping away the stray tear with her thumb before she caressed your cheek. It took everything in you to not lean into her touch, refusing to place a kiss against her tender skin. Despite your lack of reaction, Alcina moved closer as she took a seat on the window sill. It was difficult due to her size, but she made it work as she continued to run her thumb against your cheek. “Then, why the tears?”

She waited for you to speak, listening to the shaky breaths that left your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I’ve been having doubts,” you confessed, biting the inside of your cheek as you met the woman’s eyes. “About… us.”

“What do you doubt about us?” She asked softly. And, for the first time, you could hear worry in her tone as she slowed her movements. Her sharp gaze had softened, lingering on your saddened expression.

With a deep breath, you took her hand off your cheek as you held it close. Her hands were larger than an average person’s, but you still fit perfectly in them. “I fear that you do not love me the way that I love you,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on your interlocked hands. “I feel as if I am something that you use to pass the time. Someone to warm your bed at night for the time being before you get bored and move to the next.”

“People say I’m heartless,” she started off slowly, taking your words deep into her heart as her gaze flickering to your hands as well. “They call me a monster ━━ a frightening legend that mothers tell their misbehaving children. And, for a long time, I believed in those legends that painted me as a cruel vicious beast. That is, until I met you, my darling.”

Her words made you look up, daring to meet her eyes as she stared at you unblinking. Her beauty had always taken your breath away, making her perfect to you at anything that matters. Still, you remained quiet.

“Perhaps, I did not love you at first,” Alcina confessed, ever so slightly tightening her grip on your hand as she let out a heavy sigh. “But, you came into my life like a storm and I had learned how to dance in the rain. Regardless of what you think, my love for you is true. My darling, you make me feel whole ━━ the missing piece I had unknowingly been searching for.”

“Do you really mean that?” you asked softly, barely finding your voice as you faced the woman. Her words were like honey, dripping sweetness onto your tongue as you tried your hardest to believe her.

Her free hand caressed your cheek, moving closer to you before she left a chaste kiss against your forehead. “Have I ever lied to you before?”

“No, but…”

“Cease your doubts, my love,” Alcina said, staying inches away from your lips as her breath fanned against your cheeks. She whispered your name, letting out a deep sigh as she took in your scent. “What can I do to convince you that my love for you is true? To convince you that I want to spend the rest of our days together? To convince you that my heart yearns for you and only you?”

"Alcina…” you whispered softly, closing your eyes as her lips hovered over the skin of your neck. She didn’t move, waiting for some indication from you. “I love you more than anything in this world and… I wish to spend the rest of my life with you. If you would have me, that is.”

The soft words caused Alcina to open her eyes as she faced you, showing no emotion as usual. It made it hard for you to predict her next move as you waited for her to say anything. But, then a soft smile presented itself to you as she leaned in close. “Of course I would have you, my darling,” she whispered, meeting your eyes. “I would do anything for you.”

Her words brought a smile to your lips, pushing you forward as you engulfed her lips with your own. She was quick to pull you into her lap as she held you close, kissing back with the same intensity that you gave her. It made you feel warm with her love as any doubts you had begun to vanish as she held you. There was no doubt that Alcina Dimitrescu was hopelessly in love with you as you were with her. Yet, the sweet moment had ended too soon.

There was a knock at the door, causing a deep growl to leave Alcina’s lips as she pulled away from yours. It left you breathless as the two of you looked to the door to see Cassandra. She wore a sadistic grin, moving deeper into the room as she regarded the two of you. “Forgive me for interrupting,” she cooed, stealing a glance at your flushed expression with playful vice. “But, he’s back.”

A frown marred your features, causing you to glance back at Alcina and see the irritation blooming. “Who is back?”

With a sigh, Alcina looked to you as she forced a smile to her lips. She moved forward, leaving a chaste kiss against your lips that had become stained the same color as hers. “Only a nuisance that you needn’t worry about,” she whispered softly, moving to stand to her feet. “I shall be back soon, my love.”

At her words, you smiled. “I will be here waiting for your return.”

[tobi-smp]

it’s still the tommy-apologist holiday here in the states, so let me say something controversial:

doomsday wasn’t a mutual betrayal between technoblade and tommy, technoblade’s feelings were hurt and he has the right to feel that way but he was the one that had been overstepping tommy’s boundaries from the beginning and got hurt when tommy tried to pull himself back.

tommy only agreed to an alliance on the condition that they’d be causing “minor” terrorism in l’manberg, that l’manberg Wouldn’t get destroyed and that tubbo wouldn’t be hurt, which tommy reinforced multiple times. technoblade intentionally let him believe in that lie when he had no intention of upholding those terms because he Specifically wanted to change tommy’s morals to the point that he’d eventually agree with it. techno may have done this because he genuinely thought that it’d be a good thing for tommy, but it wasn’t his right or his Place to decide that he could do that, especially as time went on and he realized how unstable tommy currently was ("Oh my god, you just have no freewill whatsoever." - technoblade to tommy during dream’s first surprise visit to techno’s house).

technoblade revealed that he’d been lying to tommy about this this entire time, which tommy would’ve had the right to get angry with him about. again, I cannot stress enough that this is technoblade revealing that he’d lied to tommy and had been using tommy to help him get ready to destroy his home, whether technoblade actually needed tommy’s help or not is irrelevant because this makes tommy complicit and changes the entire circumstances around their partnership. This was an actual act of betrayal, the betrayal of tommy’s trust.

it didn’t go that way however, because techno Did successfully manipulate tommy here (and it is manipulation, whether we want to think of it that way or not). techno presented l’manberg in a purely negative light (insisting that tubbo specifically was a bad person who’d never been tommy’s friend), he encouraged tommy’s more violent coping mechanisms, and then when he thought tommy was far enough along he revealed what he’d wanted to do while insisting that he Trusted tommy now and holding the idea of genuine friendship over his head. (”You could actually be useful. You could actually be, dare I say it, a friend.” “That’s all I ever wanted.”)

none of this means that techno didn’t genuinely like tommy or that he wasn’t genuinely trying to look out for him, but tommy was blatantly coerced into joining techno’s cause here when it’d been explicitly against his boundaries. tommy Never wanted to destroy l’manberg, he wanted a relationship that he felt safe and wanted in, he wanted to be happy. techno presented himself as someone who cared about tommy, and then he presented tommy helping him destroy l’manberg as the key to his friendship when he was literally the only person that tommy had (and had made sure to emphasize that). of course tommy agreed.

tommy had tried to convince himself that he was okay with techno’s plans, but as soon as he’d genuinely hurt tubbo that illusion was shattered. he realized then and there that on a moral And emotional level he could not stand to see tubbo hurt without seeing himself as a monster. tommy’s reaction here was inward when it so easily could’ve been outward, could’ve been outward anger at the man who railroaded him into this situation despite his wishes, and it just wasn’t.

at this moment tommy Still trusted techno, he was honest with techno immediately and was Clearly having a breakdown. techno’s reaction was immediately the offensive (asking tommy if he “really wants to do this” doesn’t count as giving tommy a fair chance, especially when techno has Seen and talked tommy down from his panic attacks before), tommy was immediately Dead to him while Tommy was still willing to make a compromise (tommy thought that techno would be receptive to a compromise because he’d been tricked into thinking he was getting one before, but he wasn’t and techno would never settle for that).

techno presented himself as someone that tommy could trust and rely on (and particularly as someone who’d be patient with him during his breakdowns, which the confrontation at the community house definitely was), that’s Why tommy was honest with him and Why he’d felt comfortable enough with him to say how he felt in plain words as best as he could (compare “I’m worse than everyone I never wanted to be” to “Wilbur wasn’t so poggers” and it’s immediately obvious what I mean). On Top Of techno (falsely) presenting tommy’s participation as a choice, he’d already made tommy participate by getting tommy to help with the preparations before telling tommy the truth about what they’d been preparing for, tommy had already been complicit before he could make an informed choice. it also goes without saying that techno immediately partnered with dream with no remorse. that’s strike two and three of betraying tommy’s trust.

tommy had been trying to reach techno all throughout doomsday, it wasn’t until it was over that tommy had been completely disillusioned with techno. his conclusion was that techno had Never been his friend because he could not imagine someone who cared about him ever reacting to that situation the way that techno did or hurting someone who He cared about in the way that techno did.

and even then, even despite all of that, tommy Still cares about him even if he Does genuinely still believe that technoblade never cared about him.

when you actually look at the situation it’s technoblade tricking a traumatized teen into helping him destroy something that techno knew was important to him while further straining tommy’s relationships with people that techno knew he still cared about (by intentionally withholding information) and then getting so explosively angry when tommy tried to pull back that he made him the main focus of doomsday despite the people who tried to literally murder him also being there.

tommy hurt techno by deciding that he couldn’t let him hurt his best friend or destroy his country without severely damaging his own mental health and self worth After he’d made it clear that this was a moral boundary for him.

that’s not mutual at all, there is literally nothing even about their actions towards each other or the power between their dynamic. they were Mutually upset, they were not Mutually betrayed.

[buckyownsmylife]

Staying on my mind - Jake Gyllenhaal smut

The one where Jake fucks you while Tom listens.

Warnings: smut, cuckolding, mean!Jake, crying during sex, orgasm denial

A/N: so this was the request follow-up to these fics! I must say, I got really 🔥 writing it, so I hope y’all will feel the same when reading!

Jake’s P.O.V.

I was surprised when I got the invite to hang out at Tom’s house during the Superbowl. I hadn’t heard from him since the night he had sent his girlfriend over, and although whenever we met at parties they were always polite and warm, I knew there was some underlying awkwardness there.

I’d find it weird if there wasn’t. This is why the idea of reuniting at his place was so great: it’d give us the opportunity to smooth things over, go back to pretending nothing had ever happened.

Or make this into an official thing, one could hope.

I couldn’t lie and say that it wasn’t what I wanted. Just thinking about that night had me hardening inside my jeans, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself and end up disappointed. So when I finally got there and found out no one other than me had been invited, I still didn’t allow my thoughts to run wild, instead opting to accept Tom’s hug and depositing a quick kiss on Y/N’s cheek as a greeting.

“It’ll be just the three of us today, huh? The dream threesome,” I winked in their direction, witnessing as she flushed and Tom avoided my eyes. Just because I wasn’t going to create any hopes didn’t mean I couldn’t have my fun with them.

But the nervous energy that had been absent with other people around was now threatening to take over our encounter. I watched as Tom still seemed unable to look me in the eye and Y/N couldn’t sit still, and so I decided to put an end to it.

“Y/N.” Her head immediately whipped up to look at me, and I couldn’t help but to feel smug about it. She felt it too, this instinctive calling, this bond between us that seemed to have been delicately built during that night we shared together. “Come sit on my lap.”

Now it was Tom’s head that whipped to the side to meet my eye for the first time that night, and all he found was a challenging look on my face, as I waited with an eyebrow raised for what he was going to do. Y/N didn’t move, every muscle of her body apparently tense as she looked from her boyfriend to me and back to him again.

No one dared to break the spell. I knew how I wanted this to play out, but the ball wasn’t in my hands, and I was hoping she would realize it soon.

Much to my delight, she did.

Y/N was the one to make the decision for us, standing up and closing the space between our bodies before coming to stand in front of me. I didn’t leave room for another second of hesitation, immediately reaching out to sit her on my lap.

It helped that I was desperate to feel her body again.

“What are you looking at?” I barked, taking too much delight in the way Tom’s mouth suddenly closed, his wide eyes staring at us. “Go get us a beer.” He still seemed reluctant, but I could recognize the glint of desire in his eyes. It’s what made me insist, “Go,” which ultimately had him sprinting out of the room, in the direction of the kitchen.

Much better. That would give me the time I needed to talk to the beauty in my arms, who was staring intently at my lips, her arms around my neck. Well, now that was just a given.

“You okay with this?” I had to know. Couldn’t have her blaming it on the heat of the moment, I wanted her to acknowledge that this was her decision.

“Yeah,” she nodded, licking her lips before finally meeting my eyes. “Yeah, I think Tom will really enjoy this. Even if he doesn’t have the nerve to explicitly say it.” I chuckled, playing with her hair while analyzing her expression. It didn’t surprise me that she opted to focus on Tom’s desire rather than on hers, but by the end of the night, I’d make sure the next time we saw each other, she would be the one begging for me.

I started by capturing her lips with mine, desperate to taste her again, growing hard just by imagining Tom’s expression when he returned with the beers to find our mouths moving together. At the same time, I had to simply relish in the feeling of having her this close again.

I was right. It was impossible to be around her and not think about bending her over the coffee table and just jam my cock in her tight little pussy. But for now I was almost satisfied in making her breathless with these long kisses, where I could invade her mouth with my tongue before taking control of hers.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Missed me, beautiful?” He asked with an unmistakable arrogant smirk when I had to pull away to catch my breath. Out of words, all I could do was blink dumbly at his dominant aura, feeling my underwear begin to soak already, with the little we’d done.

Thankfully, he was so sure of himself he didn’t need an answer. Instead, his huge hand engulfed my nape, bringing my lips down to his again, adjusting me so I was perfectly seated on his lap, knees on each side of his frame, covered cunt rubbing against his. 

I tried not to focus on how it made me feel, the fact that he could so easily adjust me to his liking, but the way my pussy clenched as I kept slowly grinding against his boner was enough to distract me from that goal.

His kiss was passionate, and there was so much hunger in it that it almost scared me. But I couldn’t be too worried about it, not when his hands were roaming around my body, like he was trying to get reacquainted to it.

One of them settled on my ass, covering an entire cheek when he squeezed it tightly, making me whimper as it pressed my clit against the zipper of his jeans. And that’s when I heard it - the sound of glass breaking, liquid splashing, and I wanted to turn around to check on Tom but Jake’s other hand held me by the back of the head and attacked my lips once more.

Suddenly, I didn’t care. A lazy, warm haze of lust settled over me, slowly taking over my body, relaxing my muscles to mold them against Jake’s. Tom could stop this if he was uncomfortable, I reasoned with myself. He could voice his concerns, even pull me away. If he didn’t, he must be okay with this.

Jake’s lips grew more impatient, more demanding as they left mine bruised in search of clear skin he could leave his mark on. When he descended upon my jaw, trailing the side of my neck, I was finally able to see Tom, just out of the corner of my eye.

He looked tense, or maybe it was surprised. Whatever it was that he was feeling, it had left him paralyzed in the middle of our living room, eyes wide as he took in the image of his girlfriend being licked and sucked and kissed by his best friend.

I wondered if he had ever imagined this before. Ever fantasized about watching Jake fuck me right in front of him, like I told him about it the night I went over to his friend’s place. I had no doubt that the idea excited him, but I was reticent about how he would actually react now that it was happening right in front of his eyes.

It was one thing to fantasize. I’d even done it before, about the man who was now undoing the buttons of my dress, exposing my breasts to the cold air of the evening. Actually experiencing it was another thing altogether - and that I’d come to realize the first time I allowed Jake to touch me.

A warm mouth engulfed my nipple, making me gasp in surprise at the same time I felt his member twitch underneath me. My attention returned to the man who was dedicating all of his to me and my body, laving my breasts with his warm tongue and making me more aroused by the second.

“Alright, enough of this.” I yelped, legs instinctively wrappingaround Jake’s torso when he got up from the couch like I weighted nothing, hands under my ass to help support me.

I looked over my shoulder to see Tom was also surprised, his handcurled around his cock but unmoving as he followed us with his gaze until he moved towards us, almost tripping on his own pants trying to reach us.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jake’s question startled me, mostly because I wasn’t expecting him to say anything. I could see a mocking smile on his handsome face as he stared at my boyfriend, making me pant as I realized what was going on.

“I-I’m going to the bedroom with you guys.” I don’t think Jake tried very hard to hold back his laughter, not by the way my entire body shook with his roar. But then he stopped abruptly, almost as if he suddenly realized Tom wasn’t kidding. Then, where once was amusement, now stood intimidation. Jake looked down at Tom with what seemed like twice his usual height, a derisive smile on his face.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, mate.” I gasped in surprise as he slapped my ass, throwing a wink at my boyfriend before resuming his march, starting to climb up the stairs.

“You stay there, be a good little boy. Maybe touch yourself a little, let the grown-ups have some fun.” I was dumbfounded, incapable of saying anything as Jake’s gaze at last landed on me again, easily locating the door of the bedroom I shared with the man downstairs.

The fact that he left it open didn’t escape my attention.

My dress was gone in the blink of an eye, and so were his clothes. “God, get up here,” he ordered, laying down on the bed by my side before easily manhandling me so that my knees were on either side of his head. “I’ve been dying to taste you again.”

I choked on a moan as his tongue plunged inside of me, clearly desperate to taste my overwhelming wetness. Before me, I could see his thick cock twitch against his stomach, and my mouth instantly watered.

“Oh God,” he bellowed underneath me, the reverberations of his deep voice rushing through me. “What a fucking pussy.” My legs trembled, making me fall down on my hands and knees over him, but I didn’t mind. It got me closer to where I wanted to be.

“Fuck!” His voice boomed when my lips wrapped around the head of his cock, my hips instinctively grinding back against him face. “You’re so wet already, beautiful.”

It was undeniable. My juices were running down my thighs, dripping over his face and the bed that I shared with my boyfriend. “Does he really pays you so little attention?” Jake pressed on, tone mocking - and I knew Tom could hear him from downstairs.

Still, I couldn’t hold back. Even when I stopped moving my hips, my mouth kept working him, obsessed with the weight of his cock on my tongue, his taste, his precum. And he didn’t let me stay frozen for long, strong hands taking a hold of my ass to gently rock me back against his face once more.

He hummed against my hole, taking advantage of my distraction with his cock to keep taunting, “Just a few kisses…” and he licked my clit, laughing at my moan. “And you’re already gushing for me, huh?”

I knew he didn’t need an answer. This was much more for Tom’s benefit than anything else, but it did help that it made me wetter than I’d ever been before, thinking of my boyfriend sitting downstairs with his hand down his pants, jacking off to the sounds of me with another man.

“That’s why he needs this,” Jake continued between suctions on my clit. “You need this. He needs to see how you behave when you’re with someone who can actually satisfy you, huh?”

God, the degradation was exhilarating, even if I didn’t understand why. “Huh, sweetheart?” He asked, letting go of his long, wet kisses against my pussy to push two fingers inside of me. “Don’t I satisfy you?”

There was only so much a woman could take.

“Yes, yes,” I screamed, finally coming up for air and releasing his cock as I fucked myself back furiously against his digits. “Please, fuck me, please.”

If I had half a brain cell that wasn’t overtaken by my arousal, I’d call myself pathetic, and Jake’s laugh certainly showed that he’d agree with me. But I was too worried with climbing that high of desire to care - that was, until his fingers left me, his hand coming down against the flesh of my ass, leaving it stinging.

“Don’t fucking cum without my cock inside of you.”

I was laid back against the bed in a second, his cock suddenly filling me as he shoved it in my drenched hole all at once, knowing I could take it - and I could, but even with my overwhelming wetness, it hurt. It was a good kind of hurt though, a fantastic kind of stretch that had me screaming, clawing at Jake’s back as he immediately began to pound me against the mattress.

“Yeah, you like this cock, angel, don’t you?” I could only babble something that resembled a yes, making Jake smile as sweat started to form on his forehead.

“He has no idea how much of a whore you really are, huh?” Every reminder of my boyfriend sent a new wave of arousal down my lower belly, tightening the knot on my navel, threatening to make me tip over the edge of bliss.

“Thinks you’re just an innocent little thing…” he continued, head tilted and biceps bulging as he held himself up above me, taking in my every reaction. “But here you are, getting rawed by another man while he’s getting off downstairs to the sound of us fucking.”

All at once, his thrusts began to slow, deflating that warm fire of desire once more and I whined, tears threatening to spill when his hand covered my throat, squeezing it lightly, shushing me. “Listen,” he ordered, and I did, because I’d do anything for this man if he would just make me cum.”

“Can you hear it?” Curiosity got the best of me, and so I focused, eventually managing to grasp the sound of skin meeting skin, denouncing how furiously Tom was jacking himself off while Jake fucked me like an animal. 

But at that moment, I couldn’t think about Tom anymore. I couldn’t think about anything other than Jake and his cock, roughly fucking me in the same bed where I slept with Tom every night.

Jake’s mouth began its exploration around my neck, retracing the same path he had made that night as he sucked bruise after bruise on my skin, leaving a trail for Tom to uncover later. I could still remember how long it took for them to fade, and how I’d sit in front of the mirror and press them in the hopes of making them last longer, reigniting the flames of desire I’d felt that night.

I never expected to be able to relive it.

“Can you hear us too, Tom?” Jake suddenly yelled, laughing at my body as it jolted underneath his. “Can you hear me as I destroy your fucking girlfriend in a way you never could?”

Tom’s low moan still managed to reach my ear, and I mirrored it instinctively, bewitched by the fact that he was aroused from me being aroused.

I could feel myself clench, my orgasm starting to ignite again, but just as I thought that Jake would finally let me cum, his voice resonated through the room, interrupting my plans, “Hold it.”

I started crying. I just couldn’t take it anymore. But he thought that I did, and so he threatened, “or do you want me to stop?”

I would have thought it was just empty words if he hadn’t actually halted his movements, prompting me into begging between tears, holding the hand that still covered my throat, “No, please! Don’t stop, please.”

Jake’s P.O.V.

I chuckled as I imagined what Tom must be feeling as he heard his girlfriend begging for me. With a groan, I managed to pull out of her and easily take her body with me as I sat by the edge of the bed, in front of a body-length mirror that I supposed she used to get ready in the morning.

“Look at you,” I ordered, already holding her jaw so she’d have no choice but to obey. “He can only imagine ever getting you like this, huh? Dripping wet, crying for cock… God, you’re delicious.”

I rutted up against her, desperate to feel her wet heat all around my aching dick, but I took sick delight in torturing her a bit more. “Isn’t it worth it?” I inquired, making sure she was looking me in the eyes through the mirror, dragging my cock over her pussy lips just to taunt her. “To abandon your boyfriend downstairs so you can have my dick inside of you?”

She remained silent, tears silently running down her cheeks as she refused to answer, but even though the answer was already obvious, I needed to hear her say it.

“Say it,” I enunciated, mocking her state of ruin. “Say you want my dick inside of you.” Her bottom lips trembled, it looked like she was about to start sobbing, but she still conceded it to me.

“I want it, please, please Jake.” Hearing my name in her fucked-out voice broke all of my control, and I buried myself inside of her all at once, knowing from this position I’d feel even bigger inside of her.

“You wanna cum so bad?” I asked, watching her immediately nod. “Then make yourself cum, c’mon. Work for it.” I slapped the outside of her thigh, a hand still over her throat as I watched her begin to fuck herself on my dick through the mirror in front of us. It was unbelievable.

When our eyes met again, I felt a rush of something I couldn’t identify inside of me, looking into her gaze filled with so many emotions, I turned my own turmoil into something I could actually use.

“Do you think he’ll still want you when I’m done with you?” I asked, nibbling on her ear as I watched and heard her gasp at my words, filling my other hand with her bouncing breasts.

“When you’re all stretched out and covered in my cum, do you think he’ll still want to be with you?” She began sobbing then, but I could only take delight in her show of emotions, knowing I’d hit the nerve I needed to get her to come apart for me.

“Kiss me, kiss me,” I urged, turning her face to the side when her cunt clenched around me, starting to milk my cock. I bet I could still hold it a bit longer, even though her warm lips on mine were almost sending me into overdrive.

“God, I missed this fucking mouth,” I admitted once we parted for air, letting go of her throat to push my fingers inside of it, and when her tongue welcomed my digits, swirling around them, I came with a roar.

The world seemed to be underwater after I came with such intensity. Still, I managed to softly deposit her on bed, smiling at her fucked out face, not resisting leaning down and passionately kissing her lips once more, giving her all I got.

Her eyes remained close when I pulled away, and I knew she was almost asleep when I ran my thumbs over her cheekbones, admiring her angelic features.

“You know…” I whispered, uncertain if she could even still hear me. “…if he doesn’t want you anymore, you can always come home with me.”

[bunnyywritings]

bubbly s/o opens up about trauma pt. 1

bakugou katsuki & shouto todoroki x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

requested by anon: Katsu, Sho, Izu, and Eiji headcanons to their bubbly, and sweet crush, and close friend, opening up to them about being abused by their parents growing up? They've gotten therapy and are living with their Grandparents but sometimes they get upset when someone brings up parents or asks about the scars from abuse. They tell them they shared this with them because they refused to lie to them. They hug him close, thanking him for being a good friend. -Morp

[a/n: i hope you don’t mind that I’m doing it in parts anon! i ended up doing scenarios for each one, i'm a bit rusty so i apologize if this isn't very well done. you can read part 2 [ here ] ,thank you for requesting sweet heart! here you go! - yours truly, bunny -`ღ´- ]

TW: mentions of parental abuse & scars, nothing explicit but implied

To an extent, he always knew. Maybe not the specifics, but whenever you were alone and thought no one was paying any attention, you’d let your guard down. The metaphorical sparkle in your eyes would dim, your shoulders would slump as if you were taking a break. Then someone would approach and in the blink of an eye, the sparkle was back and the familiar grin on your lips was present once again. Despite what others may think, Bakugou was a good friend.

He worried about you. A lot.

That may be due to the fact that he has a huge crush on you, but it was unlikely. He values your friendship so much. He’d rather have you as a friend than anything else, really. That was mainly his insecurity talking though. He just thought he wasn’t good enough for you. No one was, really. But that’s besides the point.

He had never explicitly said anything about his feelings for you but he didn’t need to. It was quite clear through his actions. Well...clear to everyone but you, that is. Even Aizawa had caught on. And he couldn’t care less about his students’ love lives. He’s had his fill of teenage angst and drama.

During training, he’d always make sure your water bottle was full or during lunch he’d keep an eye out and make sure you were eating. Sometimes he’d even give you extra pieces of meat from his plate, or if he had veggies he knows you like, he’d wordlessly place them into your rice bowl.

Now this wasn’t one sided at all. You also had your ways of looking out for him.

If you were doing a convenience store run with Sero and you saw the particular snack that Bakugou likes, you’d instantly grab a few. For his birthday, you had gotten him custom earplugs for quirk training. It had been after you and him were paired to spar against each other, he always insisted on not holding back against you out of respect, and you had experienced one of his full blown attacks head-on. Your ears were ringing for about half an hour before you could somewhat hear again, and even then, everything was a bit muffled.

Needless to say, you were worried about his hearing

He scoffed and rolled his eyes when he unwrapped the box. Scolding you for wasting money on something he had no use for.

He always uses them though. Especially when he’s doing stamina training, and it’s explosion after explosion.

Anyways. He notices your strange behavior, one day. You stopped trying to keep up the façade and you were sort of gloomy all day. He was absolutely pissed that no one had noticed the change, and he’d yell at them later for it, but he kept his cool and waited until he could be alone with you.

It had been around 8pm, just an hour before his bedtime, when he made some tea for the both of you and carried it up to your dorm room. He paused in front of your door, looking down at both his hands, a mug in each one, then looking at the door handle. Realizing he won't be able to physically open the door by himself, he awkwardly bumped the door with his elbow.

“Hey idiot, it’s me. Open the door.” He grumbled quietly, frowning when you hadn’t responded. Before he could repeat himself a little more aggressively, the muffled sound of your sniffling made his stomach drop. Panic rising throughout his body as he made up worst case scenarios in his head.

“(Y/n), seriously. Is everything okay?” All attempts to sound calm failed as his voice betrayed him, trembling the slightest bit.

On the other side of the door, you started to panic. Furiously wiping any evidence of tears or snot from your face before you slumped over to the door, turning the lock and tugging it open to reveal a frowning Bakugou. He wasn’t upset, he was worried. It was evident in his red irises.

“Here. Drink it before it gets cold.” He handed you a mug before walking past you and into your room. He admired the decor everytime he was in there, no matter how many times he had seen it already, it never failed to make his heart warm. You had a wall full of pictures of yourself with your friends. There were a few solo photos of your friends as well. Most were candid shots, there were a fair few of him.

It always reminded him that beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder. You cherished those candid photos because in your eyes, when your friends were carefree and themselves, no poses, no facade, that’s when they were their most beautiful.

He took a seat on your bed and patted the space beside him. Nudging the door shut, you made your way over and got comfortable.

“What’s up with you today? You seemed...not yourself.”

You didn’t respond, opting to take a sip of your tea. He knew there was something up and he wasn’t gonna push you. So he leaned back and got comfortable, waiting until you were ready. It was a solid three minutes of silence before you took a deep breath.

“I-I don’t want to lie to you, Katsuki. It just wouldn’t be fair so uhh, yeah. Here goes.” He could tell that this was overwhelming for you so, wordlessly, he put down his mug and held his hand out to you and you grasped it, like it was a lifeline.

And you told him.

You told him about the abuse from your own parents. He felt his blood boil as you showed him a few scars inflicted by your parents’ quirks. You explained that it was the anniversary of the day you ran away and went to live with your grandparents, and how you had been seeing a therapist on the regular since then.

It pained him to see you struggle through the tears, hiccuping a few times as you attempted to catch your breath. You didn’t even have to say it but he could see it, it was an all too familiar feeling to him. He tugged you to him, letting go of your hand and pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping you up in a warmth that made the stinging tears return.

“You know, this doesn’t make me think less of you. You’re not weak. Those bastards don’t realize how bad they screwed up. You’re strong, and they’re gonna regret every goddamn choice they’ve made when they see how far you’ll go.”

“Thank you.” You whimpered as you gave in to the new wave of tears, hooking your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you…”

If anyone asks, no...he wasn’t crying. (He was though.)

If anyone was familiar with the signs of abuse, it was him. 

It hurt him so much knowing that you had gone through what he did, maybe not to the same extreme but you had experienced it nonetheless. 

He admired you though. Despite whatever happened to you, you were always bright. Always in a good mood and always choosing to see the good in people. He knows that he didn’t have the strength to do that. Maybe eventually, but not so soon. He had never wanted to pry. You guys were friends, practically best friends and he trusted that you’d tell him when you were ready. 

To his knowledge, no one knew. No one mentioned the way you’d flinch around sudden movements or when someone raised their voice. Honestly, it was a wonder that you had even befriended Iida. He was the epitome of loud and sudden. Always waving his arms around at the randomest times and always shouting to chastise someone for breaking a rule. 

He noticed that you tended to cover up your torso often. Never really wearing anything more revealing than a normal t-shirt. Even on the class trip to the beach, you insisted on staying covered up. No one questioned it, chalking it up to insecurity. Even during training when everyone had to wear their gym uniform, while others undid the top part and wrapped it around their waist, being clad in a tank top or sports bra, you had always kept it on. Even when it was extremely hot. More often than not, he found himself resting his palm against your forehead to cool you off. 

It hadn’t been very hot, but Aizawa decided to run everyone ragged with combat training, so everyone was partnered up. Todoroki had been partnered with Denki and you had been paired up with Eijirou.

As he sat with his classmates, watching the two of you spar, he was quite impressed. Not that he doubted your skill but both fighting styles were drastically different. Eijirou and his quirk relied on close combat while your quirk worked best with long-range. He could see the frustration on your face when Eijirou kept charging towards you and engaging in hand to hand.

As the fight went on, Kirishima had hardened his forearm and hand, kinda like a makeshift blade and as he took you down, he had accidentally cut the top of your gym uniform. As the dust settled and the both of you got up, the tear in your clothes allowed the whole class to see your back and shoulders, skin littered with scars. All were different in size, color, severity, etc. 

Everyone was stunned silent, not having expected anything like this. 

“(Y/n)...what happened?” You could feel the breeze on your back and the pity in Kirishima’s eyes made you angry.

Everyone suddenly snapped into realization. Various questions of; ‘who did that to you?’, ‘where did those come from?’ and whatnot were shot at you from different directions. He could see you slowly being overwhelmed by everything. His heart dropped as he made eye contact with you, your eyes tired and filled with tears. 

“That’s ENOUGH!” Everyone froze and looked at Todoroki with wide eyes, his voice booming.

Sensing the tension starting to rise, Aizawa sighed. 

“Alright everyone settle down. Training is over, get back to class. (Y/n). A word.” 

Reluctantly, Todoroki followed the boys into the locker room and changed into his school uniform.  When everyone was out and he returned outside to the training grounds, you and Aizawa weren’t there so he had gone back to the locker rooms. He knocked and called out to you. 

“Can I come in?” He heard a meek ‘yeah.’ So he carefully made his way inside. 

There you were, dressed in your school uniform and sat on a bench with your face buried in your hands, shoulders shaking. 

“(Y/n)...” He gently placed a hand on your shoulder, he winced when you looked up at him. IIt ached him to see your beautiful eyes tainted by tears. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner Sho…” Your bottom lip quivered. 

“Please, don’t apologize.” He opened his arms. You stood up and basically collapsed into them, clutching onto the back of his blazer. “Just always remember that I may understand more than anyone else will. I’ll never judge you, you know that right?” 

“I know…It’s just, ugh-” You pulled away and wiped the tears from your face. “I don’t want anyone to change how they look at me because of what my parents did to me and when everyone saw, and they were asking all of their questions, their eyes...they were just full of pity.” 

“Then look into mine.”

And when you did, you didn’t see pity. 

You saw admiration. You saw belonging. Love. Understanding. 

“Nothing will ever change with me, (Y/n).” He pressed his forehead against yours, “I will always be here for you.” 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: Fic snippet proposed by @myakkoh​ (tumblr) or BlueSapphire718 (ao3):

“I’m what?” Lan Qiren squawks, since this is the first time he’s heard anything about this. “Sworn brothers with me,” Wen Ruohan drawls. “A memorable night, really.” Lan Qiren stares. “What.” “What’s wrong?” Wen Ruohan sneers. “Can’t speak properly to Da-ge?” “You,” Lan Qiren says, “cannot be Da-ge. It sounds wrong.” “Oh?” “You, are two generations older than me. I am only sixteen.” “All the better,” Wen Ruohan says smoothly.

------------------------------------------------

Spilled Pearls

A/N: If Tedious Joys is the story of LQR's relationship with Sect Leader Nie and how WRH impacts that, then this is the story of LQR's relationship with WRH and how Sect Leader Nie impacts that.

Please note the tagging on Ao3 for all warnings, including as to tone

- Chapter 1 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren was running to catch up, because he was always running to catch up.

He’d only been allowed to join this particular night-hunt because of Lao Nie’s interference – his brother hadn’t wanted him there, specifically because Lan Qiren was slow and overly fixated on details and not all that handy with a sword – and he was determined not to fall behind. But he was slow, as always, and tired more easily than the others, and then he got distracted and realized a considerable distance had opened up between him and the rest of the group.

He ran to catch up –

He tripped.

He was going to fall flat on his face, he realized as he pitched forward, throwing his hands up in front of his face to try to blunt the pain since humiliation was already a given. He probably wasn’t far enough behind for them not to see this, and then his brother would turn his face away and sigh, aggravated, his shoulders slumping in disappointment at how Lan Qiren had lost him and their sect face all over again.

Lan Qiren was so bound up in his gloomy thoughts that it took him a moment to realize that he had not, in fact, hit the ground.

Someone had caught him.

Even now, they were holding him by the shoulder, keeping him from falling the rest of the way down with a single hand; the posture was awkward, and must be uncomfortable for them.

Lan Qiren straightened himself up immediately and dropped into a deep salute. “Thank you for your help –”

He looked up.

“…Sect Leader Wen,” he finished weakly.

He stared briefly up into red eyes before averting his gaze. He’d thought it was Lao Nie who’d come back to help him, and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw the familiar Nie colors turning back to the group – perhaps he had come, and was now leaving, since help wasn’t necessary any longer.

He hadn’t expected it to be Wen Ruohan, an ancient monster two generations his elder despite his deceptively youthful face – he hadn’t even realized that Wen Ruohan had decided to tag along on this night-hunt, though of course once he thought about it, it seemed perfectly reasonable. He, like all the other sect leaders, was here for the discussion conference, and a small forest town in the vicinity of the Cloud Recesses did not offer much in the way of other entertainment for outsiders. Why shouldn’t he come along on the night-hunt?

“It’s no matter,” Wen Ruohan said, and it probably wasn’t, for him. Someone with his level of cultivation could hold a kid like Lan Qiren up for a week without noticing the strain. “Did you get distracted by something back there?”

“Small blue flowers,” Lan Qiren said. “Typically associated with certain healing herbs, none of which are native to this area, and growing under an oak of all things; I was wondering if the placement had been deliberate and, if so, by whom and for what purpose. Not to mention when, since those aren’t perennial herbs; they have a longer growing cycle that requires certain meteorological conditions –”

“Aren’t we hunting serpent demons today?” Wen Ruohan asked, and Lan Qiren flinched.

They were, of course. And serpent demons wouldn’t exactly take the time to go plant healing herbs in a wild patch, so it had been a totally pointless diversion.

As usual.

“I got distracted,” Lan Qiren mumbled, his earlier enthusiasm squashed. “I’d say it won’t happen again, but it probably will, and do not lie is a rule.”

Wen Ruohan gave an amused huff. “Ah yes, the famous Lan sect rules. Do you often follow them?”

“Always!”

A hum. “I see. Well, the others have gotten rather far ahead, and I hear the sound of fighting – they must have already found the serpent demons, and will no doubt finish them off by the time we catch up.”

So he’d missed it. Lan Qiren’s shoulders drooped in disappointment.

“Why don’t you show me your flowers, instead?”

Lan Qiren looked up. Wen Ruohan was smiling.

“If you’re sure,” he said cautiously, but Wen Ruohan shrugged and nodded, and, well, Lan Qiren was supposed to be making friends with the members of the other sects, wasn’t he? Maybe no one had been thinking about the Wen sect, especially since Wen Ruohan’s last set of children had all died – someone had broken the prohibition on gossip in Lan Qiren’s presence and suggested that Wen Ruohan had something to do with that, rather than it being just bad luck, and that he’d done it because he thought he was a real immortal and therefore could always start anew, but the idea was so appalling that it surely couldn’t be true – but there wasn’t any real reason to exempt his sect or even him, either. Friends were friends, weren’t they? “It’s this way. Follow me.”

Wen Ruohan put his hands behind his back and followed Lan Qiren back towards the tree he’d found, his every motion slow and stately as if he were walking in a garden rather than the forest. Lan Qiren found himself mildly jealous.

To distract himself – envying others was against the rules! – he started explaining about the flowers he’d recognized and the types of herbs he thought the plant might be, citing the treatises he’d read about their usual spread and growing patterns and the uses for each one. Somewhere along the line he got distracted, though, because Wen Ruohan mentioned something about the Lan sect rules again, except he got it wrong; there was no rule against excessive verbosity, only against frivolous speech, and while there was a positive rule that counseled speaking meagerly, that was explicitly meant to avoid words that could bring harm and therefore did not apply to intellectual discussions.

Delighted as always to talk about his favorite subject, Lan Qiren promptly launched into an explanation as to the history of the debate as to whether there should be an affirmative prohibition against excessive speech, the various points on either side, the historical texts on the subject, the storied history of the rules regarding the need for an exchange of ideas in furthering education balanced against the exhortation not to take words lightly…

“Look at me,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren obeyed at once. Wen Ruohan was his elder, although not of his sect, and by this point Lan Qiren was used to elders disapproving of how his flickering gaze tended not to settle on people and his preference to look at things through his peripheral vision, and of being ordered to meet their gaze.

Wen Ruohan’s eyes were red, as he’d noticed before, and his gaze was heavy and thoughtful, somehow ponderous. It felt almost like pressure against his skin or maybe his mind.

Maybe I should change subjects or be quiet, Lan Qiren thought to himself, the thought coming to him almost involuntarily, but then he realized that if he did, Wen Ruohan wouldn’t hear about the three-day conference that had been held in his great-grandparents’ generation that specifically focused on the rules that related to speech. And that would be an awful shame, wouldn’t it?

So he kept going.

He kept up the eye contact, though. The elders didn’t always like that, either – when he did hold someone’s gaze, he would stare too directly and too long, not knowing when it was appropriate to turn away, but he figured Wen Ruohan would simply tell him. He’d reminded him about the eye contact earlier, hadn’t he?

“How old are you?” Wen Ruohan suddenly asked, just as Lan Qiren was taking a deep breath, having finished explaining the conference and about to launch into a discourse on the follow-up texts that had been written in the immediate aftermath.

Lan Qiren blinked, distracted by the apparent non sequitur. “Thirteen,” he said.

Wen Ruohan hummed thoughtfully. “Thirteen. Interesting.”

“Is it?” Lan Qiren asked, bemused. “I think it’s a rather boring age. I’m old enough for more chores, but not old enough to have free access to the library or go on night-hunts on my own.”

Wen Ruohan chuckled. His voice was very deep. “I was more commenting on your strength of mind, which is remarkable for your age. I do not recall the age itself,” he said, his tone a little dry. He was ancient, so it was reasonable for him to forget having been thirteen. “Has anyone ever told you about the ways in which cultivation can be used to influence the thoughts and will of others?”

Lan Qiren thought about it. “I think so? There’s a text that says that weak-willed cultivators can be swayed through external pressure wielded by a stronger person’s cultivation, and the larger the power gap between the cultivators, the more effective the influence can be…I don’t remember which text it was, though. I could look up the citation for you when we return –”

“No need. I am not in search of sources.”

Wen Ruohan probably had his own library full of sources, Lan Qiren reflected, and nodded.

“Oh, we’re here,” he said, noticing, and pointed to the flowers. “See, like I told you earlier, it has the characteristic qualities of –”

“Qiren!”

Lan Qiren flinched.

That was his brother’s voice, and he didn’t sound happy.

“Sect Leader Wen,” his brother said, striding into the clearing where they were standing and saluting in a somewhat perfunctory fashion. “I appreciate you taking the time to watch over my younger brother – please forgive him for any impertinence or insult –”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders were up by his ears and his whole face was red with shame. He hated how his brother apologized for him before he even checked whether Lan Qiren had even done anything; it was embarrassing that his brother always thought so little of him.

Maybe he wasn’t talented the way his brother was, but he wasn’t that bad, he didn’t think.

“Think nothing of it, Qingheng-jun,” Wen Ruohan was saying in return. “We were merely spending some time together. I assume the serpent demons have been taken care of?”

“Yes, they have,” Lan Qiren’s brother said. “There’s some debate regarding the disposition of the corpses, if you’d like to join in – forgive us both, but I have to take my brother back to make sure he doesn’t miss curfew.”

Curfew wasn’t for another two shichen, so Lan Qiren had no idea what his brother was talking about, but he obediently saluted Wen Ruohan and followed his brother away.

The moment they were out of view, his brother reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, squeezing far too tightly, and tugged meaningfully, glaring when Lan Qiren opened his mouth to protest.

Lan Qiren didn’t understand what his brother was trying to convey.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Qiren started to say, and felt his lips abruptly seal together – it was the muting spell. He could break it, of course, being a member of the Lan sect as well, but his brother was his elder; he should wait patiently until he removed it. Still, he was a little indignant that his brother felt the need to use it on him. He didn’t even know what he’d done wrong!

(The glare, he thought. The glare must have been a secret message to not speak, and he’d missed it.)

His brother didn’t say anything as they got on their swords, and he didn’t let go of Lan Qiren’s wrist, either, tugging him along as if he thought Lan Qiren was stupid enough to get lost on the way home. A feeling of shame, the sensation of having made some terrible error and not having realized it again, settled in Lan Qiren’s belly and steadily got worse and worse as they traveled.

It wasn’t until they were back at the inn that was housing everyone during the night-hunt that his brother released his hand.

“You shouldn’t let yourself be alone with Sect Leader Wen,” he said, which surprised Lan Qiren – he’d expected his brother to jump straight into listing out all the ways Lan Qiren had embarrassed him at the night-hunt. He hadn’t been expecting his brother to say something like that at all.

“Why not?” he asked, and his brother glared at him. “You didn’t want to babysit me, and I was falling behind. He wanted to see the flowers –”

“He was humoring you,” his brother interrupted. “Everyone always humors you, but no one actually ever cares about whatever nonsense you’re rambling on about this week. Don’t you know that especially powerful cultivators can affect the mind of the weak-willed?”

Lan Qiren blinked. What a strange coincidence, both his brother and Sect Leader Wen mentioning the exact same thing. “Yes,” he said. “I know. In fact –”

“I don’t want to hear another one of your stupid citations,” his brother said, cutting him off, and making Lan Qiren feel stupid and resentful again – he hadn’t even been about to cite anything! “Anyone who’s ever met you can figure out that you’re little better than a half-wit, all right? Wen Ruohan is a petty person, capable of anything, even only on a whim. Don’t spend time alone with him. Consider it another rule.”

“You don’t have the authority to make rules!”

“Do not disrespect your elders,” his brother snapped, and Lan Qiren bowed his head, acknowledging the point. “Now do me a favor and stay here until the conference is over – I should be back with the rest of them, acting in Father’s place as the sects divide up the spoils. I can’t believe I’m here taking care of you again instead.”

Lan Qiren wrung his hands together. He hadn’t intended anything like that. “Xiongzhang –”

“Have I made myself clear?”

“…yes, xiongzhang.”

“Good.” His brother was on his sword and flying back towards the forest before Lan Qiren could even blink. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.

Lan Qiren supposed he didn’t have to. It wasn’t like Lan Qiren was going anywhere.

At least, not yet. He was already thirteen – less than ten years and he’d be advanced enough to go anywhere he liked, to be a traveling musician and cultivator the way he’d always planned. He’d be able to help people and spend time with anyone he liked, or not spend time with anyone at all if he didn’t feel like it, and there would be nothing his brother could do to stop him.

[yourmidnightlover]

also.. fluff 10 and smut 5 maybe 😌

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: i LOVE fake dating.

fluff #10: fake dating

smut #5: first time (a classic)

CW: cursing, unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving), virgin!spencer, leaning towards dom!reader but not explicitly mentioned. *let me know if i’ve missed anhthing*

he needed something. something to make him seem less loser-y. he needed you.

spencer reid’s high school reunion was right around the corner. said high school reunion had all of the kids who would make fun of him, pick on him. the ones that stripped him naked on a pole. now he was 26 and in the bau for the fbi. he was successful. he made his mark. he saved lives.

but he still didn’t have a significant other. he didn’t have someone to come home to. he would have to go to his high school reunion with the knowledge that everyone was still more successful than him in the relationship aspect because he didn’t have that special someone.

“kid,” morgan intervened, “don’t let something like that make you not go to the reunion. you’re successful now. you’re pretty boy. that alone will rub it in their faces.”

“i know but everyone’s probably in a relationship now. they might even have kids and a wife or husband. i just... i want to seem like something to them,” he placed the lid on his coffee cup and began walking with morgan back to his desk.

“then ask someone to go with you. i know a little someone who wouldn’t mind posing as your girlfriend for a few nights,” morgan nudged his shoulder.

“morgan,” he rolled his eyes. “you know who i actually want to go with, which means you also know that she won’t want to go with me,” he finished explaining.

“y/n?” morgan whispered. “the girl who’s been fawning over you since she got here? the new liaison that’s been here for over a year that you still haven’t asked out?”

spencer turned his face to look at you through your office window. you were busy filing through cases, your head down in focus as you bit your lower lip while concentrating. your hair was crowding your face, obstructing the view of the beauty spencer has become mesmerized by.

“reeiidd,” morgan sang mockingly. “that just proves my theory. ask her out already.”

“i don’t want to ruin things, morgan,” he sighed as he sat down at his desk. “i wouldn’t even know how to ask her. i’ve barely kissed a girl, let alone ask one out.”

“you don’t have to ask her out, really,” he sat atop his desk. “just mention the situation and say she was the first person that came to mind, flatter her.”

“morgan, drop it,” spencer hissed as the bau filled a bit more.

“just ask her to go with you,” he said a bit louder.

“ask who to go where?” your voice rang through his ears, he liked up to see morgan smirking.

“uhm ask...” he ran his mind for another answer besides the truth.

“i know when you’re trying to come up with a lie, spence,” you chuckled.

“fine,” he sighed. “i wanted to ask if you’d mind going to my high school reunion with me?” he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“oh sure! that sounds fun,” you agreed. “why were you so nervous to ask?”

“well, you see,” he cleared his throat. “everyone in my class has a significant other and i just wanted to seem a bit less like a loser.”

“spencer you aren’t a loser,” you said sympathetically. “you save lives on a daily basis, you’re crazy smart, you have the sweetest personality, and you’re gorgeous. there’s nothing loser-y about you.”

“re-really?” he asked.

“of course, really,” you nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. “and if you’d want me to pose as your girlfriend i’d be more than honored,” you added with a chuckle.

“thank you, y/n,” he smiled. “it-it means a lot to me.”

“of course. but for now,” you motioned to the files in your hand, “it’s case time.”

-

after a couple of months had passed, the reunion was finally upon the two of you. spencer had insisted on paying for your ticket to vegas because ‘he got you into this mess in the first place.’

you and spencer had to reserve one hotel room - courtesy of the school reunion. they just so happened to decide to allow the two of you to share one bed. it was reasonable, and cost efficient.

as the two of you entered the room, you were surprisingly caught off guard with not only the one bed in the room, but also with how nice the hotel room was. out on the balcony there was a jacuzzi that was covered by an awning. when you looked in the bathroom, there was a rather large tub and a separate shower adjacent to it.

“wow,” you awed. “this place is really nice.”

“i didn’t expect this,” he added. “i guess they saved the money from my actual high school years.”

you plopped down in the center of the bed, sighing as the soft mattress curved around your back, “i could really get used to this.”

“yea, me too,” he took the time to gawk at you as you seemed so peaceful, lying on the bed. “we uhm,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably start getting ready for tonight.”

“alright,” you groaned, slowly sitting up to prepare for the evening.

-

walking into his old high school, spencer felt a wave of nostalgia mixed with bile rising in his throat. this place was absolute hell for him. he was teased, ridiculed, practically tortured for being special.

“hey,” you squeezed his arm, which yours was wrapped around. “you’ve got this, spence. you aren’t the same defenseless kid you were back then,” you stopped him in the middle of the hallway and placed your hands on his shoulders, gently massaging them. “you are a successful adult with an amazing job and friends to support you. plus, you have a really hot girlfriend by your side,” you both chuckled at that.

“thank you,” he took a deep breath. “thank you for being here.”

“it’s my honor,” you placed your arm in the crook of his once more. “shall we?”

“we shall,” he smiled as you entered the gymnasium of his old high school.

spencer tried his best to avoid any glances or possible stares. it was nerve wracking, being here with his previous bullies. granted, with you by his side he was far less worried.

you had found a group of people he used to hang out with. he was never close with people in high school, but these kids at least didn’t make fun of him. they were all proud to see that the former child prodigy is now using his gifts for the betterment of their country. you had even seen his old math teacher that took a liking for him many years ago.

“spencer?” he heard a very familiar, chill-inducing voice. he looked up to see none other than her.

alexa lisbon.

“spencer,” she chuckled. “it’s me, alexa.”

he felt your grip on him tighten, reasonably so since you knew about what had happened.

“h-hi,” he stuttered out.

alexa wasn’t as beautiful as she was in high school. it’s true what they say about those who peek in high school, he presumes.

“how’ve you been? i heard you work for the fbi now?” she placed a hand on his shoulder, which he resisted swatting away.

“yup. the behavioral analysis unit,” he looked at you before wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “i actually met her there, at work.”

“...her? are you two...?” she retracted her hand from his shoulder as you curled into his chest.

luckily, you two had already worked out the kinks of your “relationship.” where you met, first date, how long, everything was figured out.

“yes. for six months now, actually,” he smiled and looked down at you. “it’s been an amazing time with her. i wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. i love you.”

“i love you too, sweetie,” you gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, noticing his blush once you retreated.

“well, that’s... nice,” she almost grimaced as she gazed over you. “how did he manage to get a girl like you?”

“like me?” you asked for clarification.

“y’know... beautiful?” she lent in towards you as if spencer wouldn’t be able to hear what she had said.

“excuse you?” you scoffed.

“you heard me,” she rolled her eyes.

“no, i heard you. i was just wanting to give you the chance to realize how incredibly dumb you sounded, but apparently you truly are just that. dumb,” you placed a hand on spencer’s chest protectively. “this is one of the strongest, smartest, and most brave men i’ve ever met. he protects our country every day by using his own intelligence, something you clearly lack. so next time you ever think about insulting him or me, i suggest you ask yourself whether or not your even deserving of talking to him.”

“i-i just-“

“just nothing,” you interrupted. “how about you go and annoy someone else with your lack of brain cells?” and she walked away with a roll of her eyes.

“i can’t believe her,” you scoffed, turning around to look directly at spencer.

“you uhm, you didn’t have to stand up for me like that,” he whispered.

“i wanted to,” you wrapped your arms around his torso. “she’s a bitch and it seemed like nobody has ever put her in her place. i’m glad i got the honor to do so,” you gloated.

“i know. but thank you,” he sighed, briefly looking over his shoulder. “i think she’s still looking.”

“do you trust me?” you placed your hands on the side of his face, drawing his attention to only you.

“always,” he nodded as you got on your tip-toes, gently pulling his face into your own.

he placed his hands hesitantly on your waist, helping to hoist you up to meet his own lips. it was better than he’d imagined - and boy, did he imagine this. you were gentle, and delicate but provided the passion that spencer shared with you, pulling his bottom lip between your own and gently nibbling it. he let one of his hands trail up your body, going to the back of your head to deepen the kiss. at this point, he had forgotten all about alexa and the other students at the reunion. it was just you and him.

“can we-“ you whispered softly to him, your forehead pressed against his, “can we get out of here?”

“please,” he breathed out as you grabbed his hand, pulling him back through the doors of the gymnasium to exit.

-

as soon as you opened the room, you were on each other. you nearly tore his jacket off of him as he worked on the dress you had worn. he wanted to take his time, to relish in this moment while it lasted, but his own eagerness betrayed him. he was far too excited to be able to slow down.

his hands roamed your body, pawing at the soft tissue of your breasts over your bra as you moaned into his mouth.

“take it off,” you sighed, allowing him to reach behind you and unclasp the clothing.

“fuck,” he awed upon seeing your bare chest, you giggled at his eagerness.

as he gawked at your chest, it was almost as if something had clicked in your mind. and he saw that it had.

“have you... done this before?” you asked, your hands moving down to his shoulders.

“like am i a... a virgin?” he bit his lower lip as he saw you nod. “... yes.”

it didn’t truly surprise you. he had never had a long term girlfriend, and as a child prodigy sex was probably pushed to the back burner.

“are you sure you want your first time to be with me? i’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be special,” you smiled half heartedly.

“of course i want to do it with you. was your first time special?” he rebutted, maybe he knew it wasn’t special ahead of time.

“you deserve for yours to be, though,” you tried to reason.

“it will be if it’s with you, please,” he let his hands trail to your waist as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes, pleading for you to keep going.

“and you’re sure?”

“so sure,” he whispered, smiling before connecting your lips once more.

you were content with that answer. he felt your hands wound in his hair once more, gently tugging at the locks to elicit a groan from spencer. you slowly pushed him back to sit on the bed and straddled his hips, his hands still firm on your waist. clearly, he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch. placing your hands atop his, you trailed them to the front of your body, stopping them once they reached your breasts. he looked up at you with eyes seeking approval, which you granted in the form of a nod. he leisurely took one of them into his mouth, your head rolling back in pleasure from the feeling. his hand continued to work on the opposite side, tweaking the nipple when he took it between his teeth.

“so good to me, spence,” you praised from his lap, slowly grinding against his bulge to seek any form of relief.

you were both getting more and more eager as the time passed, evident by the groans and whimpers that left each other’s mouths. because if this, you ran your hand down his front and let it remain over the bulge before gently stroking it.

“y/n...” he murmured. “please, i-i need...”

“need what, baby?” you asked with a smile. “need my mouth on you? need inside of me? tell me, sweet boy.”

“anything,” he decided to go with. “i need anything.”

“how about i just...” you got off of him to remove your pants before looking back at the man sitting before you. “care to even the playing field?”

“ri-right,” he chuckled before standing up to undo his belt and throw his pants off, followed by unbuttoning his shirt.

“so fucking pretty,” you walked closer to him and slid off your panties. “do you think i’m pretty, too?”

“i-i- of course, i do,” he reached for your waist hesitantly, eyeing your now bare pussy, his nerves not getting the better of him.

“yea?” you straddled him once more but this time pushed his torso down so he was lying on the bed.

he felt your hand trace his bulge that was still trapped inside of his boxers. the light touch was enough for him to whimper. he wanted nothing more than to make you feel good, but he was too mesmerized by the feeling of you.

“morgan has a point when he calls you pretty boy,” your lips were now happily decorating his neck. “i’ve never met a man who i can confidently call pretty, yet here you are.”

“plea-please,” his hips bucked up before you reached inside of his boxers, pulling him out of the fabric.

“before we keep going,” you paused for a moment. “i have condoms in my bag, but i’m clean and on the pill if you’d want to...”

“... not wear one?” you nodded your head. “i’m clearly clean, too. and i just - i really want to feel you.”

“perfect,” you chuckled. “let me do the work, baby,” you sat up temporarily, placing his dick just below your center. “you feel that? how wet i am?”

“yes, god, yes. i feel it,” his hips bucking forward allowed his dick to rub between your folds.

“that’s from you, my sweet boy. all you,” you ground your hips against his member once more, sending his head flying back from the friction.

“please,” he breathed out with obvious frustration. “i-i won’t last long if you keep going.”

“alright, i’ve got you,” you finally rose your hips, reaching between the two of you so you could line him up with your entrance before slowly sinking down on him.

“oh my god,” he whimpered. “you’re-you’re so tight and wet and - god.”

“does this feel as good for you?” you asked as you stayed stationary on his lap, trying to let him soak in this experience as much as he could.

“probably better, if i’m being honest,” he let his hands grip your hips with a bruising touch, too eager to realize his own strength.

“i doubt that,” slowly, you rose your hips before dropping them back down.

spencer’s hands found their way up to your chest, gently pawing at them with fascination. his hips began to meet yours as you picked up the pace.

“fuck, it feels so good,” he cried out, placing one arm around your waist so he could fuck you from beneath.

“ditto, pretty boy,” you groaned as his hips picked up the pace. “so fucking eager, baby. you feel so good inside of me. cum whenever you need to, baby. i want you to cum inside me.”

“fuck - i’m gonna - i-i-“ his hips thrusted up one more time before spurts of his cum filled you up. “oh, fuck!”

“oh, you did so good, sweet boy,” you stroked his hair as he fucked his cum into you, trying to ride out his orgasm. “so, so good.”

you continued to rub his shoulders and stroke his hair as he came down from his high.

“you didn’t come,” he whispered against your chest.

“it’s alright. i still enjoyed myself,” you smiled at the sentiment. “sex isn’t always about coming. it’s also about the intimacy.”

“but i wanted you to come, too,” he nearly whined. “can i... can i make you feel good, too?”

“how do you wanna do that sweet boy?” you wanted to hear him say it, that much was obvious.

“you know,” he turned his head on your chest, placing a chaste kiss on your breast.

“do i?” you tugged gently at his hair to hear him whimper once more.

“please, can i...” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “perform oral on you?”

“oh, i love it when you talk dirty to me, doctor reid,” you sighed with a soft chuckle. “of course you can.”

you lifted yourself off of him before he slowly rolled you over, kissing his way down your body to meet with your center. he placed a soft kiss to your clit before licking a broad stroke up your slit, cleaning up the mess he made inside of you.

“fuck, good boy,” he moaned at the praise, wanting to hear more and more every day.

and he worked for the praise. he lapped at your center and sucked lightly on your clit, quickly building the tension inside of your stomach. once he entered his finger, unprompted, you questioned how experienced he truly was. he curled the finger inside of you expertly, trying to find your g-spot and successfully doing so. it was only a few stroked from inside of you and sucking on your clit for a few more seconds when you came on his fingers, tugging on his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder.

“fuck, spencer!” you moaned out, throwing your head back as he worked you through your own high.

once you had come down, it took pulling spencer up by his shoulders for him to let up on your pussy. that man might’ve been made to eat a girl out.

“you did so fucking good, spence,” you praised before connecting your lips, gently sucking on his tongue.

“that was...” he trailed off, trying to think of the right word to describe it. “it was enticing,” he settled on.

“yea?” you chuckled against his lips.

“yea,” he smiled back before sucking your bottom lip between his own. “thank you, for this.”

“thank you for trusting me with this,” your fingers twirled his locks between your fingers.

“i don’t know how this normally works but... i think i just really want to-i want to...” he squinted his eyebrows before ripping the bandaid off, not wanting to sound too squishy. “can we just cuddle? i think i need to feel close to you.”

“of course we can, spence,” you replied. “but first i need to pee. i refuse to get a uti,” you quickly got up and ran to the bathroom, returning later and finding him cuddled underneath the sheets, leaving space on the bed beside him for you.

once you had laid down, he laid his head on your still bare chest. he loved the closeness and intimacy being bare with you had, and he had never felt it before.

spencer knew he had chosen the right person to not only share his high school reunion with, but also share his first time with. perhaps you would be the first, and last.

[vivacissimx]

lyanna stark, a drop of the wolf-blood, & the pragmatism underneath

the youngest we see lyanna (in my estimation), is this vision from bran

Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn't be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout. "You be quiet, stupid," the girl said, tossing her own branch aside. "It's just water. Do you want Old Nan to hear and run tell Father?" She knelt and pulled her brother from the pool

- Bran III, ADWD

but four books earlier, we see this quote from ned:

Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it

- Arya II, AGOT

so we know that that ned was close enough to lyanna to know that she enjoyed swordplay, close enough to know her desires and to know that rickard would never accept this (for whatever reason).

...but not close enough to be the one she practiced sworldplay with in secret. the picture this paints is telling. lyanna was explicitly banned from something, and chose to pursue it in a secret and harmless way, with someone she trusted.

but ned isn't privy to that information. whether because he wasn't around, or because lyanna thought he would disapprove, or because he just thought it was childish - either way, we see that lyanna is picky about who she trusts, bred out of having to be sneaky in achieving her goals under her strict father's nose. she even identifies old nan as a snitch (et tu brute?). clever kid.

lyanna has other hobbies, too. she loves flowers. she loves riding horses.

"You ride like a northman, milady," Harwin said when he'd drawn them to a halt. "Your aunt was the same. Lady Lyanna. But my father was master of horse, remember."

- Arya III, ASOS

[Brandon] loved to ride. His little sister took after him in that. A pair of centaurs, those two.

- The Turncloak, ADWD

Horses … [Domeric] was mad for horses, Lady Dustin will tell you. Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself.

- Reek III, ADWD

worth mentioning, imo, that even though lyanna was an excellent rider, she couldn't beat domeric. this is paralelled with arya, who is great on horseback, but not faster than harwin the son of winterfell's master of horse. this isn't a case of 'not like other girls' syndrome, of mary sues who are magically the best there ever was. conversely, adversity doesn't scare either of them off - lyanna was clearly competitive, with domeric and likely with brandon before him, and it all added up to her being remembered as a fantastic horserider despite effectively leaving the north at 14.

so lyanna is determined. she's willful, to hear ned say it.

then, of course, we have this

"Robert will never keep to one bed," Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm's End. "I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale." Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart.

Lyanna had only smiled. "Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man's nature."

- Eddard IX, AGOT

this seems fairly clear cut, but let's break down this conversation:

lyanna (told the news by the authoritative father; being approached by ned, the sibling who is best friends with the guy in question; thirteen years old): he will never keep to one bed. he has a bastard already, on a common girl he cannot marry which speaks to his character

ned: it isn't robert's actions that matter, it's his feelings. *crickets on lyanna's feelings*

now lyanna is thirteen. but she already recognizes that this is a losing battle. why? because she can't change robert?

no. because she cannot change the minds of rickard, or of ned.

there is no doubt in my mind that both these men loved her. but do they listen to her? clearly not.

lyanna doesn't bother to fight this fight she cannot win. she just smiles, realizing that rickard/ned are not going to hear her out on this, and gets the last word with "love does not change a man's nature."

this isn't the divide between lyanna and robert - this is the moment of divide between lyanna and ned. they're siblings who love each other, and love is sweet, but none of that changes that ned is on rickard and robert's side. it's a rough moment for a teenage girl. she was right earlier, she must realize - benjen is the brother she can trust.

so lyanna is determined, but she is pragmatic.

the next time we see lyanna, she's kicking ass at harrenhal.

[...]they heard a roar. “That’s my father’s man you’re kicking!” howled the she-wolf…

The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen.

- Bran II, ASOS

here is where lyanna really shines.

she has a moral code all her own, we already know this from her assessment of robert's child that differed from how catelyn views bastards disconnected from the home.

she dislikes bullies, which is fairly common (jaime hated bullies growing up, for example) but for some reason at this very moment, she also has a tourney sword in hand - why? well, because lyanna stark takes her opportunities when she has them. barred from swordplay? that's fine, dad, but when you're not looking is another story.

she doesn't go rushing in, nor does she ignore the scene. she watches long enough to see if howland can fight them off (he can't), giving her time to identify him as a crannogman - possibly even as a highborn crannogman. and then what does she do? she weighs her options, decides that she can probably beat the bullies, and does so. then she takes care of howland reed, picking him up like she picked benjen out of the water in bran's vision.

[T]here was to be a feast in Harrenhal, to mark the opening of the tourney, and the she-wolf insisted that the lad attend. He was of high birth, with as much right to a place on the bench as any other man.

- Bran II, ASOS

she claims his rights as a highborn lord to attend. he doesn't have clothes, nor does howland insist that he can go, but lyanna makes a reasoned argument that howland has every right to attend and that surely benjen can find him some clothes!

so lyanna is determined, pragmatic, and a problem-solver.

[T]he Knight of the Laughing Tree spoke in a booming voice through his helm, saying “Teach your squires honour, and that shall be ransom enough.” Once the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply, their horses and armour were returned.

- Bran II, ASOS

here, lyanna displays a trait that sets her apart. howland memorizes the face of his bullies. he wants to "revenge" himself on them. but lyanna does not go directly for the bullies, she challenges the lords to whom the bullies squire, and commands them to chastise their squires.

lyanna understands the chivalric system she lives in, and that she will not be listened to (how? her own father and brother don't listen to her!), so she figures out another way to get justice that plays on the very ideas of might & honor that exclude the weak. she is confident in her abilities (being experienced riding at rings), gathers up all the material she needs, and takes a calculated risk.

she manipulates the system, plainly. she plays the players at their own game and wins.

and she does it for a guy she met a few days ago.

lyanna is determined, pragmatic, a problem-solver, and ascribes to a moral code that is all her own, one that rejects societal hypocrisy.

You have a wildness in you, child. 'The wolf blood,' my father used to call it. Lyanna had a touch of it, and my brother Brandon more than a touch.

- Arya II, AGOT

so how do we square this away? lyanna was wolf-blooded. she was wild. she was untameable.

or was she?

any girl/woman with half a personality gets described as "spirited" or "willful" or "stubborn" in asoiaf. it's a polite of saying "hard to control." we see several times that lyanna takes a measured approach to matters. she is brave, yes, but she is also thoughtful and chooses her battles with the information she has. when she is denied something for no reason beyond her gender and status, she finds a way to pursue her interests regardless.

but robert is something lyanna can't avoid. and that had to rankle her, the betrothal she is determined to avoid, but pragmatically cannot due to her family's insistence. the marriage that goes against her moral code (i'm sure lyanna noted that robert gladly volunteered to capture the KOTLT, regardless of what punishment might be given down by a deranged aerys).

[i'm going to skip over her relationship with rhaegar, because there isn't enough/any text to analyze that explicitly deals with their dynamic post-harrenhal. speculation isn't the point of this post. suffice to say she saw in him something she did not in her family or robert.]

then aerys burns her father and brother.

could rhaegar have stopped aerys once he made up his mind? we as readers know the answer is no. grrm says so much himself, that it was aerys who kicked off the war in this interview:

The Mad King was mad. He was paranoid and violent and he was abusing his power... [Robert's Rebellion] was triggered by[...]the execution of Ned’s father and brother, it was the thing that radicalized, as we would have said in the 60s, Ned and it put him in opposition to it. Robert was just rolling for a fight and it might affect that he’d lost his girlfriend.

the absolute power of kings is continuously critiqued in the series.

so how did lyanna react? of course she grieved deeply. even if she knew that she would likely not see her family again for several years at least, for them to die in such a terrible manner is horrifying.

but lyanna has been forged into pragmatism. she looked at the squires beating up howland and saw that the issue was not the bullies, but the corrupt, lazy lords they squired for.

why would she not be able to see that aerys's abuse of power was what had killed her own family? she's realistic and she's a moral actor and she understands the social system around her. whatever her opinion on feudal lordship before, abuse of power has now killed two people she loved. only extrapolation can say how she would react, but given that we see her in similar situations - it is safe to say that the she understands the removal of aerys from power is a necessity, and that a king who is ruled by his urges is unfit.

[lyanna doesn't have the highest opinion of robert, does she? would she think him fit to be a king? doubtful.]

however, she also wants her family to be safe - a family which is now going to include her unborn baby.

[Ned] could hear her still at times. Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black

- Eddard I, AGOT

the promise she solicited from ned is to care for baby jon, presumably.

more importantly, in this final conversation, lyanna is putting all her trust in ned.

this moment is a tragic one, but it is also a cathartic one. whatever has happened, and there is plenty of difficulty between ned and lya at this point, they are putting that to the side and affirming what matters most: their love and loyalty to one another, not in service to house stark, or to any king or cause, but to each other as lyanna and ned.

ned didn't listen before, but he promises her now. lyanna didn't confide in him before, but she does now. yes she's on her deathbed, but this is powerful anyway. it's a healing moment for them both, one lyanna held on for even though by all means she could have trusted the kingsguard to whisk baby jon away earlier and succumbed to the pain.

lyanna doesn't spend her last moments begging for forgiveness or explaining herself. she spends her last moments trying to solve the problem of jon's safety, of her son's life. even at the end, she is determined that he will live.

she dies fearless. she smiles, maybe the same way she smiled in winterfell when ned told her robert would be a good husband and she saw the love in ned's words but not the respect. a bittersweet smile, because jon will survive but she won't see it.

"She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean."

"I was with her when she died," Ned reminded the king. "She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father."

- Eddard I, AGOT

this is our actual introduction to lyanna, when robert and ned initially visit her in the crypts. given everything we know, it's so fitting - robert is displeased with her gravesite. he never got what he wanted (his manic pixie dream girl </3), and even in death he doesn't like her grave.

lyanna was never the person robert projected her to be. in her crypt, she's still defiant against him/what he symbolizes. her determination, her wishes, her home, they all shine through.

But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone. The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandon stood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just behind.

- Theon V, ACOK

in the end, lyanna's close to her family (even by their side in theon's dreams). she's close to brandon, rickard, ned, old nan, everyone she ever knew growing up, and most importantly: to jon. it's a romantic ending for a minor character, a character grrm clearly cherished when he wrote.

the point of this post is that i want to leave behind the idea of lyanna stark as this harbinger of tragedy. the woman who ruined every man who looked into her eyes (robert, ned, rhaegar) and is now turned to stone. lyanna stark isn't written as a cautionary tale, as a romanticized medusa - instead, her memory lives on in a son who doesn't know her but still loves her, in how the people she knew remember her for what she actually loved, and even in lyanna mormont (a fitting namesake). there's defiance and meaning in that.

i could never say it better, so have hélène cixous's banger to round out my thoughts on lyanna:

You only have to look at the Medusa straight on to see her. And she’s not deadly. She’s beautiful and she’s laughing.

[nugnthopkns]

i know you get deja vu

word count: 1.4k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, cursing, it's mild angst up in this b

recommended listening: deja vu | olivia rodrigo

a/n: wrote this short little ditty while avoiding my adult responsibilities lmao. it is not great but i really like the premise, maybe one day i'll do something more with it

Your eyes have to be failing you.

There’s no way he showed up, let alone with another girl – who looks shockingly similar to you. She’s a more polished, more refined version of yourself, and anger bubbles in your stomach the moment you see him walk through the door with her in tow.

When your parents informed you they’d invited Pierre-Luc to your graduation party you shrugged it off. Their reasoning was he’d been a large part of your college experience, and it was sound enough logic. You stumbled across him in a coffee shop during your freshman year and quickly fell into a romance that lasted until a few months ago. The breakup was rather brutal, though your family doesn’t know that, so you didn’t expect him to stop by your parents’ house to congratulate you on completing your degree.

Much to your distaste he does make an appearance, with who you presume to be his new girlfriend. You don’t want to stare at the pair, but you can’t help it – they look good together, possibly better than you and Pierre did. However, you notice that the young woman has on a dress that’s identical to one hanging at the back of your closest. Pierre had bought it for you when you accompanied him to France one offseason, and the thought of him replicating the trip with her crosses your mind.

Finding it too much to be in the same room as him, you excuse yourself from a conversation with some of your father’s business partners and grab your sister by the elbow on the way into the sunroom.

“What’s the matter with you?” She grumbles, upset you pulled her away from a conversation with a boy she has a tiny crush on.

“He’s here,” you whisper shout, doing your best to inconspicuously point to the culprit of your dampened spirits.

“Who?”

“Luc.”

Her expression softens, and it’s clear she feels sorry for you. “Shit. I didn’t think he was actually going to show up.”

You let out a rather strangled laugh. “Me either, but he’s here and I don’t know what to do.”

The two of you stay tucked inside for a few more moments, deriving a plan that gets your ex-boyfriend off the premises as fast as possible without him seeing you. She heads outside first, making sure to grab one of your cousins who’s obsessed with hockey on her way. Together they make a beeline for Pierre, who is beyond excited to catch up with your family. You slip through the door and into a conversation with some fellow graduates in the back corner of the yard. It isn’t interesting, just about future plans, but it keeps you occupied. You’re careful to keep you back turned and your voice low – anything to keep your existence inconspicuous.

Your sister keeps Pierre-Luc busy, chatting to him about how the playoffs went and what his goals for the offseason are. A small crowd gathers around him, mostly just extended family members who haven’t seen him in a while, and he indulges their questions with a kind smile. You can tell your luck is running out, that he’s finally going to spot you in the crowd and rush over to say whatever he came here for. The fates are cruel, and at that moment your mother calls everyone into a circle for a toast.

“I want to thank you all for coming,” she says, pulling you to stand beside her. You can tell Pierre is looking at you, but you avert your eyes and look anywhere but him. Your mother continues talking. “We’re incredibly proud of our daughter for completing her degree, and we can’t wait to see what she does next. If you’re here, we appreciate the role you played in her success. To Y/N!”

Your name is chanted like a chorus, and your eyes meet Pierre’s as he raises his glass. The intensity of his stare makes you blush, and you bury your head into your father’s shoulder, playing it off as being overcome with emotion. More toasts ensue, including one where you thank everyone for their continued support, and then the cake is cut. You try to slip inside, praying that Pierre-Luc and his date will leave, but the devil himself grabs your elbows as you open the back door.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, accent thicker then the last time you heard his voice. You can’t lie to yourself – he looks good. The sunshine has done wonders for his skin, and the tattoos peeking out from his shirt sleeve look new.

“Thank you.”

You offer nothing more to the conversation, which clearly upsets him, but he doesn’t do anything other than knit his brows together. It makes sense that you wouldn’t want to speak to him since the last time you did was the screaming match that ended your relationship. You go to make your exit, but the small girl hanging off Pierre’s side speaks.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she smiles. “I’m Maisie. Luc talks about you a lot.”

“Pardon?” You’re caught off guard. Why would he talk about you to his new girlfriend?

The man in question shifts uncomfortably, like he’s going to get caught in a lie. “Yeah, it’s so nice that you guys are still friends.”

There it is. Saying that you split amicably is probably the only way he could convince her to attend this stupid party in the first place. “Ah,” you sigh, “Well not everyone is afforded the same luxury.”

Against your better judgement, you compliment her dress. Maisie thanks you graciously, explaining that Pierre bought it for her and once he’s cleared to leave Columbus they’ll be taking a trip to France, with a pit-stop in Portugal because she’s never been. Your insides churn, but you manage to keep a glaringly fake smile plastered on your face. The conversation shifts, and you find out that she also studies English Literature and expects to graduate next year. You laugh off all the coincidences, but it’s obvious to you and Pierre-Luc that Maisie is a substitute for the person who came before her.

“Why don’t you go get us some drinks babe?” Pierre asks, and the girl skips away after reaching on her tip-toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

You fiddle nervously with the hem of your dress, anxious to be alone with him. “It isn’t what it looks like,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“It’s exactly what it looks like Luc, and don’t you fucking dare say otherwise.”

He lets out a defeated sigh. “So what if it is? I think it’s glaringly obvious that I still love you.”

No shit you think, but you bite your tongue and say something more respectable. “I’d say so. She’s exactly like me, but hopefully she won’t mind being asked to put her whole life on hold.” There’s a bite to your tone that you can’t help, but it sets Pierre-Luc on edge.

“You can’t still be fucking on about that.”

You’re seeing red now, irate that he is still choosing to minimize your emotions. “I am! Because you asked me not to continue school, which is something I explicitly told you I wanted to do, just so I could be a more conventional NHL girlfriend. And then you broke up with me when I said I wouldn’t do it.” You inhale a deep breath before continuing. “I hope you have fun with Maisie in France. You should take her to that little café we went to, in Bordeaux, where we ate so much food we couldn’t walk back to the hotel. And I hope that every time she looks at you like you hang the moon, you remember that you’re recycling our entire relationship because you let it fall apart at the seams.”

Perhaps your emotions got the best of you, because the look on Pierre-Luc’s face is nothing short of shock. You’re taken aback too – your parents raised you better than to say hurtful things, but seeing him again brought up a myriad of things you hadn't yet dealt with. Without another word, you spin on your heel and head inside, slamming the door behind you. It shouldn’t upset you this much, after so many months, but for a reason you’re unwilling to admit to yourself it does.

You sit in the bay window of your childhood bedroom, wrapped in a blanket even though it’s the beginning of summer, and watch as Pierre-Luc presses a kiss to her forehead before thanking your parents for inviting him one last time. Just like him, every relationship you have for the rest of your life will be an attempt to replicate the love you had for Pierre – a never-ending circle of deja vu.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @samsteel @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe @iwantahockeyhimbo @himbos-on-ice @2manytabsopen if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[kaiserkeller]

More information regarding Alfred Lennon

(A lot of the information I have gathered about Alf and his relationship with John when they reconnected has been taken from the wonderful johnandcynthialennon blog — so big thank you to them!)

I wanted to outline exactly why John and his father, despite reconnecting when The Beatles became successful, became estranged again, particularly after John divorced Cynthia and married Yoko.

As detailed in the quote post from Pauline Lennon Stone’s book, ‘Daddy Come Home: True Story of John Lennon and His Father’ (1990), it appears that when Alfred came back into his son’s life in 1964, John was yearning for that closeness; that real father/son bond that families are ‘supposed’ to have. Pauline states that it was relatively easy for Alfred to move into Kenwood (albeit very temporarily) because of Cynthia’s kind nature and eagerness to see if the two could salvage any sort of relationship and that John appeared hesitant yet relatively happy to have him in the house, even though his busy days and frequent lie-ins meant that the two barely saw each other. However, she writes that Alfred did not enjoy life at Kenwood as one would expect, describing him as “restless”, something which was pointed out plainly to him by Lillian Powell on a visit to the house. 

How this unfolded is interesting. Pauline states that Alfred, although apparently not happy living with his son, was uneasy about telling him he wanted to move out and find a place of his own. According to her, Alfred was very concerned about John’s feelings and especially hurting him (although this seems a stark character change from what we already know about him). However, apparently Lillian was very proactive with her idea and took it upon herself to relay the news to John of his father’s departure (again). John, not uncharacteristically, tried to present himself as uninterested by the developments and did not allow the others to see distinctly that they had hurt him:

“However, this restoration of freedom was marred by John’s disappointment at his leaving. Freddie had detected a look of dismay on his face as Cynthia informed him of the arrangements that had been made. But it was clear from his withdrawn attitude that he had not expected this turn of events. And Freddie learned later from John Francis, the part-time chauffeur, that John had been ‘very upset indeed’ about his father’s departure. Nevertheless he gave orders to Dot to ensure that Freddie was given a couple weeks’ supply of food, and Cynthia went to great trouble to provide him with a carpet, a TV and some bedding for the new flat.”

Freddie moved out, and the only meeting of note next was the following year, when he came to introduce Pauline (or Polly, as he called her) to John and Cynthia. I’ve already mentioned in a previous post that the motive behind the meeting was really to ask the couple to give Pauline a job, as she was no longer studying at University. Pauline was hired at Kenwood for a short while as secretary and occasional nanny, but Cynthia would later recall that it was a “nightmare. She was constantly in tears and arguing with her mother over Alf. She slept in the attic and we’d hear her screaming down the phone and sobbing up there.” The couple eventually moved to Brighton together after marrying in Gretna Green.

Here’s where things between John and Alfred get more complicated, though. I have no reason to believe that Pauline has a particular motive with her story telling, and she appears to be relatively honest about Alfred and the way he acted, even if it puts him in a bad light. However, he was her husband, and considering he didn’t gain anything at all really from being John’s father, I believe she genuinely loved him. Therefore, there are elements of her recollection that I have to take with a pinch of salt, for example: her complete brushing off of the possibility that Alfred tried to seduce Cynthia.

“However, it was the question Cynthia's evenings out with the girls which brought about a rift between John and Freddie and led John blowing his top with his father for the first but not the last time. During one of my weekend visits to Freddie in Kew we bumped into Cynthia in a nightclub one Saturday evening. Whether it was due to an excess of alcohol or simply the prompting of old-fashioned values I'm not sure, but Freddie was deeply shocked to find John's wife clubbing without a suitable escort and he treated her to a lecture on the subject of wifely duties. It was one of the few occasions when I was really mad with Freddie. I knew he had a terrible habit of saying the most outrageous things under the influence of whisky, but I was furious with him for offending Cynthia. I realized with despair that he had gone much too far, but what I did not realize was that certain members of John's entourage who were also present in the club would report his words to John in a totally contorted form. In fact several different versions of the truth reached John's ears - the most ridiculous of which being that Freddie had attempted to seduce his daughter-in-law! The accusations were nevertheless sufficient to enrage John, and without waiting to verify their validity he paid an impromptu visit to Kew the next morning, en route for London in his Rolls.”

Pauline’s account is plausible and does make sense, however the owner of johnandcynthialennon.blogspot.com makes a good point in commenting that it presents an angle on Cynthia that we’re not too familiar with. Her account of seeing Cynthia at a nightclub without John is not the ‘mumsy’ homebody we’re usually presented with, giving the impression that perhaps Cynthia had much more of a social life than she typically let on? Or maybe a story made up by Pauline to avoid making her relationship with the man already widely viewed by many as untrustworthy seem weak?

It’s possible that the story, like a game of Chinese Whispers, was highly exaggerated by John’s close circle to give him a sound reason to cut off the man they assumed to be gold-digging off his now-rich-and-famous son. But I would just like to point out that this particular story of attempted seduction was supported by John’s close friend from childhood, Pete Shotton, in his book ‘John Lennon in My Life’ (1983):

“Eventually, however, Freddie exhausted the limits of even John's tolerance when he attempted to seduce his daughter-in-law. Cyn was so distraught that John threw his father out of the house, and refused ever to see him again.”

This makes a lot more sense knowing that this really was the end of their relationship, as when Alfred took his baby son David to see his half-brother and his new wife Yoko in 1969, John explicitly let him know that he couldn’t care less. I doubt that he would have been so angry with his father if Cynthia had outlined that the worst he did was a meaningless misogynistic lecture on female roles. John did very briefly reconnect with his father in 1976 when Alfred was ill with cancer, and later offered to pay for the funeral, but Pauline refused. Despite everything, at the end John still cared about his father, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, though poison it may be.

[emblemxeno]

JP vs. Localization in Fire Emblem Fates: Revelation

(Okay, for real this time lol)

Again, here’s a link to my sources post.

Fortunately, this route follows suit in terms of good localization quality after Conquest. It’s the shortest out of all the posts, since I don’t really have a lot to talk about. Mostly subtle line changes, references and a few key points of information that were cut out. I also went through Hidden Truths and Heirs of Fate to see if I could add stuff from those on here, but there were no big problems that I found.

Once again, the main part of this post will all be put under the cut. If a chapter isn’t covered, it means I didn’t think there were any differences worth talking about.

I’ll use localized names for characters and locations, unless I feel the need to do otherwise.

I’ll be using she/her when referring to Corrin in this post. (I flipped a coin to decide the gender lol)

Also, note that after Chapter 14, the translation of this route on Fateswartable ends, so I mostly relied on the English patch done by Serenes at that point forward. (I also used PegasusKnight.com as a reference to fall back on if I needed it)

Chapter 7

-A minor gripe I have with localization. The JP version compares Touma (Valla) to hell constantly. To jump ahead a bit, I believe in the JP versions of the End of All Sky/Land/Below tracks are even called The End of All Roads Heaven/Earth/Hell. The Vallites are also often called demons in the JP version, and Anankos himself is known as the ‘Invisible Demon Dragon’.

Another cool thing I just thought of too, is a connection to a popular Japanese short story. Zelda fans might be familiar with the story, “The Spider’s Thread”, which inspired the Ancient Cistern dungeon in Skyward Sword.

The beginning of the story has Buddha walking through paradise (heaven), before coming across a pond. The pond is filled with crystal clear water, and covered with water lilies/lotuses. As Buddha gazes further into the pond, he begins to see the depths of hell.

Sound familiar? “Azura is walking through Hoshido, before coming across a lake. The lake is filled with crystal clear water, and when she gazes into the lake she sees the fallen kingdom of her birth. Valla, the kingdom associated with water lilies/lotuses in the game, has been turned into hell itself.”

This association loses its meaning a bit when the comparisons to hell are a bit toned down, as well as when the Buddhist inspirations were kind of supplanted in favor of Greek renames. It’s not supremely important to the plot as a whole, but it’s something interesting I wanted to bring up.

-In the JP version, while explaining what happened in Valla, Azura eventually says “Using the art of manipulating people’s souls, he (Hydra/Anankos) made the people kill each other.” This bit of the people killing each other was cut in localization.

Chapter 12

-In the JP version, when Corrin asks Flora if she knows anything about dragons, Flora says “Sorry, I don’t know…The ancestral dragon of the Ice Clan has already perished and isn’t part of the legend. I don’t know what role it plays, sorry…” Localization makes her response “I'm sorry, but I can't think of anything... They've been gone so long that we don't even have tales of dragons in the Ice Tribe. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance...”

So, the JP version explicitly says the Ice Dragon is dead (I believe Fates’ second artbook mentioned this as well), whereas the localization only says the First Dragons have been gone for a long time.

Chapter 16

-There’s not really much of a problem that I have with what Ryoma says about Corrin “having leadership qualities at a young age” but I wanted to do comparisons regardless cuz the word choice might lead one to different conclusions. In localization, Ryoma says this:

Ryoma: Huh... So she told us the same thing... I don't think it's in Corrin's nature to lie. And there's a leadership quality about her that just attracts followers. I remember being jealous of her as a child, in fact. Even at such a young age, she displayed the characteristics of a ruler. Silly to be jealous of her, right?

In the JP version, Ryoma says this:

Ryoma: Oh... So, she told you the same thing. …Corrin isn’t one to tell lies. She’s been like that since childhood. She’s always genuine and honest... She has this mysterious appeal that draws people to her. Seeing my younger sister with the qualities of being a ruler... Honestly, it makes me feel envious. …What a ridiculous thing to say, right?

Again, I don’t necessarily have a problem with how it was localized, but some might. The localization version might have people think that Corrin somehow was a fantastic leader at such a young age, but JP is more clear that it was about the qualities she had at a young age that would be valuable as a leader.

Chapter 19

-A minor gripe. In the localization, Azura says that Anankos uses his magic to send Vallites to Nohr and Hoshido to stir up conflict. In the JP version, she says he uses magic, along with the help of a body of water. That’s why whenever you fight Vallites outside of Valla proper, there’s a body of water nearby; Hoshido’s lake (and the ponds shown in Hinoka’s CQ battle which are in the capital) for Chapter 5, the sea for BR chapter 11, the burning falls for BR chapter 21, and the city for Rev chapter 13. Similarly, the consequences of being a victim to the curse are described as “turning into sea foam” in the JP version. Localization as a whole kind of toned down how much water has an influence on the story.

Chapter 23

-Probably the pettiest gripe I have lol. As Arete is fading away from Azura’s arms, Azura has a different reaction in localization and Japanese. In localization, Azura says “Mother? Mother!” while a voice clip of her in-battle pain cries plays. In the JP, she says  “*Sob... Sob*…! Mother... Mother...!”, while a voice clip of her crying plays. Her crying voice clip I don’t recall hearing anywhere else.

This is one of the few times in the you get to see Azura express a heavy and heartfelt emotion, since her rough childhood caused her to remain guarded and stoic around everyone. The equivalents to this scene in other routes is her death scene in Birthright, and her crying with Corrin over Ryoma’s death in Conquest; a normally unflinching and aloof character breaking down is a rarity, and indicates that the cause of it is something to take note of for the character as a whole. Localization softened this aspect, and I take issue with it, despite it probably seeming trivial to most other people.

Chapter 24

-When Corrin is questioning the phantom Mikoto, an exchange happens. In localization, part of it goes like this:

Corrin: But this can't be... Are you truly my mother?

Mikoto: I am. Even as a puppet of Anankos, my spirit at least remains my own.

Corrin: I... I believe you.

In the JP version, it goes like this:

Corrin: It can’t be... …Are you really my mother?

Mikoto: Yes... I became an Invisible servant, controlled by the Invisible King... Even so, I am your mother.

Corrin:  …………

Again, a minor thing that I don’t personally have issue with, but replacing Corrin’s silence with an admittance of belief could make some believe she has “reverted” back to being too naïve.

Chapter 26

-While Gunter is relaying his past, an exchange happens. In localization, it goes like this:

Gunter: I ask myself that, every day. I cannot understand the minds of royals. To you all, we commoners are little more than pawns in your schemes... Or weeds to be killed on a whim.

Corrin: That's not true...

Xander: Is that how people view the royalty?

Ryoma: Such an impression would easily breed powerful resentment...

In the JP version, Corrin, Xander and Ryoma don’t say anything. They just remain silent.

Endgame

-Not a major problem so much as a general thing about the game, but I can think of like... at least three memes that Treehouse inserted into the localization. Now I like memes, but there is no better way to date your media nowadays. One of them was Kana’s “That’s dragon for I love you” which tbh, is kind of cute and isn’t the most well known meme so I guess I can let it slide. Another is Felicia saying “I had one job!” when she messes up in the dining hall, which isn’t that big of a deal since the dining hall is very optional.

The last one I can think of is why I put this specific grievance here, and it’s during Corrin’s speech before facing Anankos.

Corrin: We won't back down! This is my... This is our destiny! Ready your weapons! Fight for your friends! With the Seal of Flames... With the Fire Emblem on our side! We fight for our world!!

Yeah, she says “Fight for your friends” which is everyone’s favorite Ike line from Brawl. Now, this isn’t even a totally inaccurate translation either, but it kind of just... makes the moment funny for the player when it’s supposed to be commanding and serious I guess.

But yeah, not the most important issue by far, but something I’d thought to mention. Hell, it’s not even that bad compared to how they made Peri’s, Effie’s and Hisame’s quirks into exaggerated and tired jokes. And the Beruka-Saizo support. Never forget.

-When Azura and Corrin are by the lake and discuss the latter’s plans to rule, Corrin says this in localization:

Corrin: I'm going to make Valla a wonderful place! In honor of the true last king and for Queen Arete. And everyone who fought... I promise to make them all proud.

In the JP version, she says this:

Corrin: I’ll make the Invisible Kingdom (Valla) into a great land. For the previous monarch, Queen Shenmei (Arete)… And for all of my allies who fought beside me. I promise.

So, JP version only mentions Arete as the reigning monarch of Valla. Which makes sense, cuz unless there was some wild “keeping the bloodline pure” shenanigans in Valla, Arete being the Queen keeps in line with what we know about the rest of Valla’s history. Arete was royalty from birth, as was her sister Mikoto. Arete is the one who passed down Lost in Thoughts and the pendant to Azura.  

[blackbat05]

Day by Day

Shangqi x Reader 

A/N: My love for this man has hit an all time high so let me capitalize on it while I still can! If you read everything, I sincerely thank you for doing so!!! And holy cow 2 fics in 2 days have I gone back into my prime days? 

Genre: PG-13

Notes: As the title mentioned, I’ll probably set it some time after endgame. You could see it as a prequel to my first post! Reader is a social worker and she’s just dealing with all the mess that the snap bought back. The reader’s name as Jen Lee. I also apologize in advance for the potentially long fic. 

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‘Excuse me, I’m looking for my child? Her name’s Wang Yiman and she’s seven.’ Another frazzled-looking parent fought her way to the front of the receptionist, approaching the helpless intern who looked like she was going to be on the verge of tears if another request came in. 

‘I got this,’ a hand calmly reassured the young intern as she beckoned the relief parent. ‘Mrs Wang? My name is Jen Lee and I’m the social worker here.’ I offered my hand for the anxious mother. ‘Oh thank god! Is Yiman ok? She must have been so scared!’ I slowed to a stop outside the room at the end of the corridor, gently sitting her down. 

‘Yiman has been a very brave girl Mrs Wang, but I will not lie to you. The sudden disappearance of their parents has traumatized a lot of kids. We’ve managed to explain to them what was going on but they will need a lot of support.’ I gave a glance over Mrs Wang’s shoulder, nodding to my colleague, Tammy who was holding the hand of a little girl in pigtails and a floral dress. 

妈妈! mā ma (mommy!)

The young girl ran into her mother’s open arms, allowing the floodgates to open from both ends. I turn to Tammy as we shared a silent agreement to leave the area. ‘That’s the last one for the day,’ Tammy unceremoniously plops herself onto the chair, letting out a groan. ‘Thanks for your hard work Jen.’ 

‘Right back at you.’ I entered the last bit of paperwork before uploading Yiman’s case file onto the portal. Yiman’s reunion with her parents meant the Children and Youth Centre were halfway in getting every displaced child back to their parents. Looking at the dingy television that was hung on the walls at the waiting room, despite not being able to hear anything, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. S.W.O.R.D was apparently in a stand-off against Wanda Maximoff? Reported rumors that Sam Wilson didn’t want anything to do with the shield? It’s been a crazy few weeks but that was utter- 

‘Bullshit! If anything it’s the government. They must have psyched him into giving up the shield.’ My chair swiveled to face Tammy who returned a nonchalant shrug. ‘What? You know I’m right. Doesn’t matter if half the world’s gone or our universe gets split into two - they’re the true evil here. I’m still struggling to find a place after I found a couple making out in my apartment! And you know what the global repatriation council told me? We’re only dealing with urgent cases right now. Well I say f-’

The incessant ringing of the bell interrupted our conversation, replacing Tammy’s tirade into a cheeky grin. ‘Look who’s here!’ 

Shangqi stands behind the counter, dressed in his usual red varsity jacket and jeans, holding bags of what I could only make out as takeout from the Chinese restaurant that was run by a friendly Singaporean couple. ‘Did I interrupt something?’ He scratches his head nervously. ‘Nope, in fact you just saved me from Tammy’s monologue, any further and she’ll explicitly tell me what she saw in her apartment when she got dusted back that day,’ I shivered in mock fear. ‘Still haunts me up till today.’ Tammy meets us by the door, bag in her hand. 

‘I thought you were staying? We got fried dumplings and 泡饭  pào fàn (poached rice).’ 

‘Last minute duty - A parent called, gotta run! Enjoy your dinner date.’ She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, much to our embarrassment. ‘What? It’s not...’ Shangqi stutters, trying to form intelligible sentences. ‘Get out before I throw a fried dumpling at your face Tammy!’ She winks at me, before darting out of the door. Once my nosy colleague was out, I turn towards a red-faced Shangqi. ‘I’m so sorry... just don’t mind her.’ 

‘Huh?’ The man was knocked out of his stupor. ‘Oh yeah... sure,’ in an attempt to forget everything that had just happened, he opened the packets of fried dumplings. ‘Ready for war?’ 

‘I was born ready.’ 

Thirty-five minutes later, all that was left were the remnants of fried dumplings and three empty containers. 

‘This should be illegal,’ I patted my stomach in satisfaction to his amusement. ‘Laugh at yourself! You lost track of how many dumplings you had and ended up taking my share!’ 

Raising his hands in defeat, Shangqi starts to clear the table up. ‘So how’s the center? Everything alright?’ I nodded numbly. 

The past five years had been a blur. Hazy, even. All I remembered was a kid running into the office telling me that half of the staff disappeared during a school holiday program that we were running with a dozen other kids. Parents who survived the snap rushed to our center, demanding to see their children. We couldn’t give them any answer as we too, were equally perplexed. Maybe the only thing that made sense was Shangqi and Katy bursting into the center to help us with the chaos. 

Coming back from what could be the 1000th phone call, I got a glimpse in the children’s playroom where the five years old kids were at, treating myself to an amusing sight. They all had red cloths draped around their neck, each holding a stick that was from the abandoned prop box. Katy wasn’t spared to as she was wearing her own red cloth that seemed a few sizes to small for her. Not that she didn’t seem to mind. 

‘Alright my warriors! Chargeeeeee!!!!!!’ 

In unison, little pairs of feet pattered across the room towards their ‘enemy’, a cardboard cutout of a monstrous creature who was really just Shangqi in disguise. 

‘RAWR! I’ll eat anyone who stands in my way!’ He stands up, mimicking a dinosaur that was about to trample an entire city. I decided that the paperwork could wait, standing near the door to watch an Oscar-worthy performance. With great effort and bravery from the kids, they finally managed to take down 5 foot 10 worth of muscle. 

‘Again! Again!’ 

I chuckled upon seeing Shangqi on the floor, about to drift off into wonderland. It was time for me to step in. ‘Alright kids that’s enough for today! Dinner’s here.’  As the kids dispersed with the help of Katy, it was just the two of us left to clear up the mess. ‘Thank you so much, both of you. I honestly can’t think of what would happen if you guys didn’t come to help.’ 

Perhaps my body language was screaming ‘I’m dead tired, please just knock me out’ as Shangqi takes a cloth from me, folding it back into the box. ‘It’s what we would have done, this place, it means a lot to us - to me.’ 

A small knock on the door diverts our attention away from the trash. Little Yiman stands at the door, as she stares at the both of us with big round eyes. 

‘Yiman, it’s late, what are you doing here?’ I squat down to her eye level. The little girl beams, ‘ 妈妈 said that I could give this to you!’ She passes me a juice box together with a handmade card with colorful scribbles. Maybe I was carrying too much on my shoulders, as I suddenly felt a boulder lifted off me. ‘Thank you,’ I smile at her sweetly, ‘I love apple juice.’ Happy with the response, she runs to Shangqi. ‘Shangqi 哥哥 gē ge (brother)!’ 

He breaks out into a smile, opening his arms wide. Yiman nuzzles her head into his shoulder before breaking out into uncontrollable giggles from his sudden attack of tickles. ‘Are you hear to help Miss Jen?’ I took the trash from his hands, giving him some time with the girl. 

‘Yes I am. Miss Jen needs some help so I’m here today!’ 

‘Are you her boyfriend?’ 

Shangqi freezes on the spot. He had undergone what could be the toughest training by his father, fought the greatest assassins in the world and here he was - stumped by a question from a seven year old. ‘Well... I’m her close friend since when we were very young,’ Yiman looks at him expectantly. ‘She helped me when I was in trouble so I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’ 

‘Like how Ningning helped me when I injured my knee?’ 

‘Yeah... something like that.’ He breathes a sigh of relief, thankful to escape his first crisis. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he was telling himself the truth. 

‘Yiman! Your mother’s here!’ The little girl gives him one last hug before running to the waiting room. Shangqi takes a moment to recollect himself. ‘Here I am thinking that you finally managed to have some stamina while interacting with young children, maybe I was wrong.’ I teased as I sat beside him. 

‘Har har, hilarious.’ He tosses me a straw for our peach teas, as we were greeted by the amazing night view of San Francisco. ‘Enough about me, you good though?’ Looks like he didn’t forget the conversation that was cut off earlier. My mind goes back to a few minutes earlier, eavesdropping on the conversation.

‘I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

Life has been so unpredictable, I don’t even want to think too far into the future. With appearances from more superpowered beings, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

‘Yeah. To be honest, it’s been so crazy and overwhelming but I’ll get through it. I have you don’t I?’ Giving him a wink, I slowly sipped on the sweetness of the tea, savoring the pearls. He pauses for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. 

Life isn’t the same as it was before. But maybe, just maybe... if I had Shangqi, I’ll take each day on one at a time. Day by day. 

[END]

A/N: Hoho! I literally spent the whole afternoon writing because I just had to get this idea out and also because work was pretty slow today. I have no idea what is up with my first two fics hinting at unrequited love? I guess I got inspired by Shangqi’s and Katy’s platonic relationship because I thought it was so well written but I also love Shangqi so I guess is a compromise kinda thing. Again, do like and comment if you wish! Really thankful that y’all have been so kind to me so far! 

Perhaps I’ll try my hand at shorter ones like headcannons before this girl exhausts herself out and I don’t want to do that because I believe I have more to show!