#Law looks perpetually tired

[shamblespirate]

[sunshinescribes]

Crocodile is a bastard but something about that slutty little strand of hair that fell over his face when Luffy was beating the shit out of him got to me.

[fanaticsnail]

Shameless: 1/3

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,285

(Image Source)

Synopsis: You have a type, one that has been forcefully revealed by your crewmen's incessant nagging. After being ordered to return to your workshop to receive further instruction, you become fully aware of why you have been hidden away from meeting with the captain of the Victoria Punk. He was exactly your type.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Eustass Kid. It was meant to be a one-shot, but it quickly got out of hand very fast. Looks like a two or three parter. afab!reader - but can be read as gn.

Themes: senseless flirting, mature themes, NSFW language, choking, vulgarity, promiscuity, shamelessness, heart-pirate!reader x captain!Eustass Kid, this reader is a perpetual and shameless flirt, heart pirates x reader, partial zoro x reader, platonic law x reader.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @since-im-already-here

Song Suggestion: It's Cuffing Season - Dj Rehan, JW Velly

Within the rotund chasm of the crew dining quarters rung a loud and rambunctious melody. The sway of your hips and the lyrics falling from your smiling lips alongside Shachi and Penguin had the mood of the hour joyful and merry. The speakers ignited with the crackle of the powerful ballad screaming over the powered mounted system bordering the ceiling. You swayed your body with Ikkaku’s, your lips relaying the lyrics to the rambunctious melody with a suggestive smile, a smile mirrored by her own elevating to her lips.

These were the cool-down hours: where the Heart-Pirate crew were able to complete tasks they had set aside, or wind down after a hard day's work of following Captain Law’s orders aboard the Polar Tang. Despite his tired and lackluster expression constantly painted across his exhausted face, your captain, Trafalgar D Water-Law, encouraged his entire crew to engage in some lesser restraint as they quiet down before the changeover in shift. 

Law was yet to join in on the celebrations, opting to remain behind in his office for reasons you were yet to become privy to. Although he never allowed himself to truly let go and sway his hips, cry tactless lyrics into the air; he truly enjoyed witnessing the crew join together like this. There were only a few songs he would ever mutter the lyrics along to, most of which were harder in musicality, angst-driven in their choruses, and distorted in tonality. Yet, he would always have a soft smile elevated on his lips when the few of you would gyrate, sway, sing and scream alongside the music over the speakers. 

As Shachi drew a stainless steel whisk up to his lips and began to shout the lyrics into the crossed tip, the music cut out from its place within the electrical power system. In its stead, Captain Trafalgar Law’s voice dictated a few short and curt orders. 

“All hands above deck. Repeat, all hands to the deck. Prepare the Polar Tang to be boarded for a Nakama encounter,” you snapped to the direction of the speaker, Ikkaku’s dancing movements halting beside yours as you listened for further instruction over the system. As no further orders fell from the mechanical mesh, you readjusted your fallen zipper of your white, boiler jumpsuit and spring into action.

“Ohh, a crew boarding? I hope it’s the Straw-Hats! I want to see that little reindeer again,” Bepo noted politely, the thump of his heavy feet stomping along the iron floor beside your smaller steps almost comical. 

“Oh, the crew with the green-haired swordsman coming aboard again?” You asked him, brow quirking and smirk rising at the corner of your lips. Ikkaku laughed at your comment, clapping you on the shoulder and walking with Shachi and Penguin in tow behind you. 

“The one that was almost your type?” Ikkaku’s smile quirked up at Shachi’s question, his arm hooking over your neck as he spoke down into your ear. 

“But not quite, remember?” You giggled at him, playfully extending the sharp secondary knuckle of your index finger into his ribcage, his breath huffing out a hasty exhale at the jolt. Ikkaku and Penguin laughed at Shachi’s wince of pain, his laughter also rising with his crewmates’ and your own. 

Amongst the Heart-Pirates, the crew were not unaccustomed to your unrestrained flirting with them. From your close proximity, to the brush of your fingertips, to a warm embrace offered from your arms, to you lounging against them in the quiet hours. But most of all, your vulgar and unwithheld language going far enough to make the most hardened members of the Heart-Pirates’ cheeks tint crimson. 

It was a game to you, keeping things lively and interesting aboard your ship as you served alongside them as Law’s chief tinkerer. Nothing ever came of the suggestive conversations and provocative language you offered aside from a friendly kiss, alongside the words, “Sorry, love. You’re not my type.” 

As your feet met with the grated bars of the steel steps leading to the deck, Law’s voice cut over the speakers once more to address the crew.

“All hands to the deck, aside from my tinkerer. Go to your workshop and await further instruction,” the distorted crack of his voice did very little to mask the disdain in his voice. There was something bothering your captain - such a bother depicted in his bored and aloof tone. The harbor which anchored such a dirge-like expression which you had very little explanation for. That was, until, the snickering beside you hissed through the smiling teeth of the three human crew members beside you. 

“What’s so funny?” you spat, shimmying from the crook of Shachi’s arm and facing the four of them with your hands on your hips. 

“Oh, nothing,” Ikkaku giggled before sucking her lips into her mouth to stifle more of her laughter from freely falling from between them. You glanced between the other three, all raising their hands in defense to your pointed gaze. 

“Alright, keep your damn secrets to yourselves,” you scoffed, turning your nose up in the air at them before snuggling into Bepo, who eagerly returned your brief embrace, “I’ll see you after the Nakama meet up, I suppose.” They bid their farewells to you, snickering and giggling as they exited the iron hatch of the Polar Tang to rise above decks. 

After sculking the halls down the long and lonely corridors to your office, you were shocked at the sight greeting you upon opening the large door. Although he depicted further instruction was awaiting you, you were anticipating private instruction to be carried through your personal Den-Den-Mushi rather than meeting with your Captain himself. 

Captain Law was sitting at your desk, his ankles hooked on top of your workbench with his hands laced behind his head, cradling his neck. He lazily glanced through the corner of his eyes at you before slowly unlacing his ankles and rising to his feet. His fingertips clasped his impressive sword, the smoothness of his scabbard reflected in the dim light of your office. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Cap? Shouldn’t you be-?” you began, your words halted immediately by Law’s response.

“-Cut the shit, Tink,” your titled nickname falling in lieu of your real name or formal title from Law’s lips. You relaxed your shoulder against the doorframe, folding your arms across your chest while pursing your lips. You tapped your index finger on your bicep while you awaited further direction from the man in front of you. 

With an exasperated sigh, he elevated his slender, tattooed, fingers to his brow and pinched the center between his index and thumb. He huffed a final growl before he bore his honeyed eyes into your awaiting features. 

“It seems I will be unable to keep you distracted for the entire time they’ll be here this time,” he muttered to himself in a voice almost impossible for you to catch. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to question him further. He halted your words by removing his fingers from his brow to face his palm out to you.

“I am going to say this one time, and one time only,” he continued to hold his intense and stern gaze into your eyes, “Don’t.” 

“‘Don’t’ what, Law? What are you talking about-?” you began, halted again by Law’s dictation once again.

“-Just...” Law turned his face slightly away from you, “...-Just don’t, okay? I know you, I know what you’re like, and I’m just letting you know now, and know once. Don’t.”

You were unable to form an adequate response before he stormed out of your workshop and wordlessly gestured for you to follow behind him above deck with his index finger, a hooked motion calling to you. Your captain’s words swirled in your head, your eyes locking on to his neck and tracing his skin with your inquisitive gaze. 

-

Your relationship with your captain was as close a friendship as you could ever muster with such a person. He sought out your skills as a tinkerer, your reputation preceding you when you demonstrated your skilled hands to him. You both bonded over unique collections, his coins and comics, your rocks and pinned insect and arachnid display. Both having a unique place to relay information about your special and unique interests with one another was sacred, and so incredibly special to the both of you.

Where Law and you differed was in how you chose to display your humors: Law holding his hand close to his chest before he truly displays how unhinged his humor was with dark commentary, whereas you were a perpetual flirt with provocative language and sultry advances. You both held each other in a professional standing, before your words took a turn for requited flirtation. Law would reciprocate your vulgarity, and you would mirror back that darkness he expressed, if ever your conversations became flirtatious and humorous with him. 

And that is where, like the others, you ended the flirtatious rapport with a simple utterance of: “Forgive me, Cap. You’re not my type,” which threw the captain and crew into an uproar of outrageous laughter. Speculating on what exactly your type was, you finally gave into their incessant interrogation after being offered your fifth drink for the evening from the hands of Shachi. 

“Fine,” you spat, your arm swaying as you handled your filled pint, “I like them big. And I truly mean big. Like, throw me over the shoulder big. Like, ‘will it fit’ big. Especially if they’ve got that feral twinkle in their eyes that looks at you like they’d want to kill you,” you confessed, your voice swooning at the thought. After taking a heaping gulp from your drink, you added, “You’re all very beautiful, handsome, and spectacular. But, I just need someone who looks like they could lovingly and desperately break me in half. Bonus points if they’re good with machines, so we can bond.”

After coming down from your whimsical confession, you glanced at the crew. Bepo’s ears were covered by both Shachi and Penguin’s hands - all three of their jaws comically slackened. Law’s teeth were clenched in an awkward, cringe-like, straightened smile with lazy, half-hooded eyes. Ikkaku’s cheeks were tinted red with the elevated hue of rushed blood, her lips broken into a wide grin with her eyes twinkling at the confession. 

All of these things were true. You were a person of refined taste, a taste which seemed scarce to come by with the crew you had found yourself working beside. There was Jean Bart, but he was not overly interested in tending to a relationship with you. There was Uni, but your interests fell short when he only depicted gentleness and kindness towards you in lieu of your craving for something more brutal. 

Both men remained high spirited and friendly with you despite your attempt at a fling with them falling through. You needed something more. Something more unhinged. Something a little unpredictable, feral and dangerous. 

-

As Law led you above deck, the voice of Jean Bart called for all crew to fall in line to welcome the Nakama crew above deck. Without looking up, you hastily drew yourself between Penguin and Ikkaku, Shachi on the other side of Penguin and Bepo beside Ikkaku as you all stood alert with your arms by your sides.

“At ease, Heart-Pirates,” Law commanded, shooting you one more pointed and narrow-eyed look before turning back to speak with the foreign captains and their crews. It seemed two crews had joined the deck of the Polar Tang: The Straw-Hat Pirates alongside another crew you did not recognise. You quickly examined the First-Mate of the Straw-Hat crew, who met your eyes with a small smirk before returning back to fix his gaze on his captain alongside his crew. 

Zoro was almost your type. A night you shared with one another, being evidence enough to your crew, that you had nearly found someone you deemed feral and hulking enough to share in your company. When your lips met his: his actions were closer to timid and gentle as they joined with yours. The fires of passion were there, the small amount of danger also present, but he was still not your type. He was handsome, sure enough. He was aggressive, absolutely. He reciprocated your flirtations with a small elevation of flush tinting his cheeks a warm hue of pink, which you found endearing. 

The night concluded with a few deepened kisses, roaming touches from your hands holding each other firmly beneath the stars aboard the Sunny. However, nothing further ever came between the two of you. After that night, the you both remained quite good friends and shared in each other's company, with unhinged and illicit conversation, each time Law met with his captain. He kept pace with you when you drank, spurting dark vulgarity subtly into your ear at the dining table when your crews met; but it was all in good humor and never truly to initiate anything rising further between you. 

A small pull at the corner of your sleeve from Ikkaku broke you away from your reminiscing, your face turning to look at her with your brows knitting in confusion. Her lips were sucked into her mouth, her eyes wide in excitement as she bore her gaze directly ahead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” your hushed whisper growled at her. She removed her grip on your sleeve and raised her hand to your chin, turning your head without pulling her eyes away from their fixed point in front of her. 

“This is who the Captain was keeping from you. Ever wonder why he’d been working you so hard when we meet up with certain crews? He’s why,” she muttered, her lips still sucked within her lips to stifle her rising joy. You allowed her to turn your jaw ahead, your eyes meeting with a hulking figure of a man with fiery red hair. 

Your jaw fell slack before your lips pulled up into a broad smile as your eyes fixed themselves on him. He was intimidating, he was hulking, and he was big. Your eyes shamelessly raked themselves over his body, halting on his calves, his thighs, his ass, his arm, his metal arm, his broad chest, his grimace, his makeup, his blaster goggles hoisting his untamed locks away from his face-. 

-You hastily drew your eyes back to his left arm, metal in make and incredibly large. It looked heavy, intricate, and mechanical. Your interest deepened at each sway of his arms, flex of his muscles and wind of cogs and bolts within his intricate piece attached to his severed limb. Starstruck, captivated, and interest immediately peaked; you continued to rake your eyes over this foreign man aboard the Polar Tang. 

“O-Oh? Oh m-my-...” you couldn’t find the words to form a cohesive string of sentences, your eyes fixed on his arm as you studied it. His mechanical fingertips were clenching, his grimace splitting his scarred face, and his hair bobbing beneath blaster goggles each time he opened his mouth to speak. 

“I know, right? Law has been trying so desperately to keep you from meeting him,” Ikkaku added, prompting you to hum deeply in interest with your tongue darting out to dampen your bottom lip. 

“That’s your type, then?” Penguin and Shachi uttered in unison, their downturned smiles through gritted teeth cringing through the question. 

“That’s-,” you took a moment to collect your thoughts, swallowing a lump of dry saliva within your mouth, ”-Exactly, my type,” you gasped, nodding as you spoke aloud. 

“And this is why each time we see the Victoria Punk, we have to keep you below deck and distracted,” Ikkaku managed to stutter out through her giggles. You quickly snapped your eyes back to her, your gaze narrowed and accusatory.

“We’ve had him,” you snapped your eyes away from the hulking gentleman to stare at Ikkaku, “On the Polar Tang more than once?” You snapped your eyes from Ikkaku to turn to Penguin on your other side, “And you managed to keep me distracted?” you uttered through gritted teeth. Ikkaku shrugged her shoulders, puffing out her cheeks to halt an uproar of laughter from falling from her lips. 

“Captain’s orders,” Shachi confirmed with a curt nod, stooping out from falling in line to meet his spectacle-covered eyes with yours, “He knows what you’re like, and how you’d react.” He stepped back in line and grunted out a soft cough to clear his throat. 

You turned your eyes back to the redhead, quickly looking over his hulking crew before hardening your resolve and humming deeply. 

“I am-...” you began, raking your eyes back over his body again, “...-I am going to climb him like a tree.” 

Snickers began to fall through the nose of Ikkaku, a small giggle elevating in Penguin’s chest, a huff of air snorting through Shachi’s nose.

“I gotta know what that hand does,” you confessed, your eyes full of wonderment and your tone full of longing desire, “What it feels like. Is it smooth? Does it have different settings? Is it cold? Can he control the pressure? I have to know, for science. I want him-...” you trailed off before dreamily adding: “...-To choke me.” 

More laughter and teeters from your friends around you threatened to break through the seal of their clenched lips, Penguin raising his palm to halt his laughter. 

“Look at his eyes. He’s got so much pent up hate in that twinkle,” you continued, a whimsical sigh exiting your lips, “I hope he’s the type that scowls into your face while he fucks you hard. Or maybe he’s the type to bend you over a desk while he frantically rams himself into you.” 

Ikkaku’s higher pitched whimpered laughter almost broke through her lips, elevating both her hands to clench over the bottom half of her face to stifle her laughter. Penguin was not faring much better, his teeters boiling close to breaking point. Shachi pulled his hat over his eyes in an effort to hide his blush.

“I wonder if all of him is as big, hard and angry as the rest of him,” you hummed, deep in thought. A choked snort threatened to break through Shachi’s nose, Ikkaku held her breath while Penguin cringed behind his palm. 

Zoro immediately drew his eye away from his captain and examined the five of you all huddled together in a line. He focussed on your lips moving, reading the unhinged commentary you were entertaining your crewmen with: noticing your gaze was fixed on Eustass Kid. His smirk immediately broke up his lips, his eyes closing as he huffed out a subtle laugh he disguised with a cough. 

“And the scars. Are they sensitive? I wonder if he’d writhe when I lick them,” you spoke with wonderment, “How far do they go down? Is it just his face, neck, arm, and chest - or do they go all the way down his body? I would happily lick, kiss and suck my way down while mapping his flesh beneath my lips. Oooh, I wonder if he’s ticklish.” 

Zoro’s gaze was now fully fixed on your lips, relaying every word of your hushed conversation lowly to Nami standing beside him. She began holding in her own laughter, choking back stifled whimpers while hearing the repetition of your vulgarity from the first-mate beside her. Nami was also a crewmate you enjoyed spending time with when the Nakama meetings drew the Straw-Hats and Heart-Pirate crews together, appreciating how effortlessly you relayed your desires and flirtations to your crewmen. 

“And his face paint. Does it smear when it's coated in sweat and saliva? His face looks like a comfortable place to sit,” you raked your eyes over his face, focussing on his grimacing lips, “He looks like he’d be an aggressive kisser. I wonder if he bites when he eats pu-.”

That was the comment that broke the seal, the three companions by your side finally breaking into an uproar of laughter. The three crews and their captains snapped their attention over to you. You held a look of absolute innocence, your eyes finally meeting with the intimidating presence of the feral, redheaded captain. 

His intense rage directed at you had you swooning, your knees buckling and your breath sighing at him. Heat flushed your cheeks the longer your eyes were locked with his. The flutter of your heartbeat and deep sigh departing from your lips perplexed him, depicted by the rage-riddled confusion knitting his brows together deeper.

Without warning with a few quick strides, your captain strutted over to your position among your crewmates.

“Tinkerer,” he spat, your body doing little to hide your longing as you desperately attempted to look behind Trafalgar Law to return your gaze to the Nakama behind you, “I said don’t.” 

“Sorry, sir,” you apologized sincerely, snapping your eyes up to his intense gaze,and assuming a more formal position. Your hands were clasped behind your back, your chin elevated in the air and your expression hardened and practiced.

“I just-...” he growled, his eyes clamping shut tightly before reopening, “...It was a suggestion, Tink. Not an order.” He straightened his posture, swirling his neck to relieve it of tension, “At ease, but keep it quiet. Alright?”

“In that case, Cap,” you smiled, relaxing in your stature and beaming a brilliant smile up at him with a shrug, “I am going to test out how loud I can make him roar my name while he fills me full of his hot, sticky cu-.”

“-TINK!” Law scolded you with an exasperated growl, the remainder of the Heart-Pirates bursting into a large, unbridled gaggle of laughter. 

Far enough away to not hear the conversation Law was holding with you, Zoro’s smirk cut his face wider at Law’s roar. A low, rumbled chuckle shook Zoro’s shoulders, alerting Luffy and Eustass Kid of his amusement. 

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Kid’s voice cracked through the air, causing Zoro’s chuckle to halt but his amusement remained. 

“Go ask Cap’n Law’s crew,” Zoro suggested nonchalantly with a shrug. Luffy quirked his head to the side, his wide eyes holding mild curiosity. Nami clapped her hands over her lips and shook her head, while Robin’s knowing smile drew itself up to decorate her face with her humor. 

“Why would I do that?” Kid growled, turning his intense auburn eyes back to the scene befaling Law and his crew. Law turned back to the two captains, a rise of a pink hue dusting his cheeks as he fixed his hat atop his head. 

Behind the tattooed captain, you stood with your brow raised and following your captain’s retreat. He examined you briefly, noting you were holding a hushed conversation with your crewmates behind your captain’s back that had a blush rise to their cheeks, lips curling up into broad smiles, and shoulders quaking in laughter. You were confident, that much was sure. 

As Kid met his eyes with yours, he saw your cocky smirk and half-lidded eyes glancing at him with a beckoning taunt. He watched as you shamelessly raked your eyes over his body, pausing on a few key areas and your lips moving with a smile as you spoke. 

Kid immediately rose to your challenge, striding immediately over with haste and brushing his shoulder heavily past Law’s - who was too late to halt the meeting of an impossible force colliding with an immovable object. Law held out his arm in warning, an action falling short as the hulking figure covered your body in the shroud of his shadow. His presence sucked the very breath from your body, his intense, piercing gaze burned you as you gazed into them. Lips curling back into a snarl, he scrunched his nose alongside his brows. 

“The fuck are you all laughing at?” He roared, his hard gaze stealing the air from within your lungs. He was even more spectacular at his closer proximity, holding you briefly starstruck under his dangerous aura. 

“Aww, nothing to say? Something clamping down on your tongue to keep it from moving?” he grimaced his lips up into a cruel snarl. At his taunt, your brief awestruck expression was replaced with a channel for your vulgarity.

“Why, are you offering?” You bite back, your eyes dark with their challenge, “I bet you have an array of things you could use to keep my tongue occupied.” His eyes widened, his grimace falling a little at your words.

“Come again?” He asked, hunching over to draw his face close to yours. He bore his teeth at you, his shock written all over his face. 

“I hope so, Sir,” you smile dreamily up at him, “As many times as you can handle it.” 

Your crewmen beside you sucked in whimpered breaths, hoping and praying the larger man at least found humor in your comments if not anything else. You continued to hold your half-lidded eyes, glazed over with unwithheld lust and need meeting with his wide eyes, pupils shrunk small and expression angry.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he spat, his brows creasing in the middle of his forehead as his scowl returned, “I should gag, choke and flog you for that.”

“And I would say ‘thank you’, Sir,” you hummed in affirmation, stepping your body closer to his towering form. Reactionary, he stepped further towards you, completely ignoring your crewmates beside you witnessing your interaction. You could feel the waves of tension elevating and igniting fury beneath his hulking form. 

“If this is your way of pissing me off,” he snarled, the rumble of his voice echoing within his chest shot a delightful shiver to your spine, “Believe me, it’s fuckin’ working, Sunshine.” 

Your heart swelled at his bestowment of such a sweet title onto you, your comrades in arms staring at you in horror as you swooned. Shachi and Penguin were rapidly shaking their heads from side to side in an attempt to warn you to cease your shameless advance of the foreign captain. Ikkaku stifled a smaller gasped whimper, while Bepo covered his ears. 

“So violent,” your voice shuddered in delight with an airy breathiness, “Don’t threaten me with a good time unless you intend on seeing it through, Sir.” 

Eustass Kid was stunned.

He had not received such provocative and forthcoming flirtation in this way before, and he truly had no idea if your crude words were just a depiction of your humor to entertain yourself, or if you truly meant what you were saying. If your expressions were just an act to draw a laugh from your crewmen, he no longer wanted to take part in engaging with you in this way. However, if you were truly interested in him - your shameless and tasteless salaciousness was indeed igniting something within the tinkerer-captain.

“You don’t even know who I am, Sunshine,” he informed you, drawing up his mechanical left hand and threatening to cage your neck within its cool, steely grip.

“Then educate me on the name I’ll be blissfully crying praises for, Sir,” you groaned, leaning your neck against the index finger of the mechanical contraption. 

“You got a lot of nerve to be talking shit about me in front everyone,” he pressed the heel of his metallic palm further into your flesh and curled the digits around your throat, “I’m not a fan of being the butt of some fucked up joke.”

“They’re not laughing at you, Sir. It’s ridicule at my expense,” you confessed, groaning at the feeling of cool metal pressing dangerously hard against your jugular, “They’re laughing at how much I want you, which I do. I really do, if you’re up to the task.” 

Kid’s breath was now taking its turn in being stolen from his lungs, your confession weighing as heavy on his heart as his mechanical arm was on his shoulder. He took a moment to process the words falling freely from your lips before he calculated an appropriate response. 

“The fuck did you just say-...?” Kid asked you quietly, his arm faltering its grip around your neck while his balled fist clenched tighter to stifle his rising anger. 

“You heard me,” you taunted him further, not tearing your eyes from his for even a moment. Your smile never faltered, your eyes displaying their unbridled lust and craving for him within your blackened pupils, “You don’t seem like the kind of guy that needs to be told twice.” 

“And what kind of guy do I look like to you?” he spat at you, wringing your neck between his steel fingers.

“A big one,” you gasped a whimpering moan, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt every movement offered by the mechanical contraption. You would adore taking the time to study such a beautiful object in your workshop, but for now; your curiosity was satisfied by the feeling of the hulking larger man caging you beneath its cool grasp.

“You want me to show you how big I really am, Sunshine?” his face split into a broad grin, his brow creasing in the center to deepen his sinister expression, “At least you already know how to call me ‘Sir’.” 

Before you could utter another word, Law pulled the captain’s attention away from you with a grasp of his hand on his right forearm. Before he could squeeze his metal fingers around your neck further, he drew them away from your flesh as Captain Law interrupted your building tension.

“Captain Kid,” his stern voice cut through the air, the redhead’s eyes snapped over to meet with the yellow irises of your captain, “I apologize for my tinkerer’s obscenity. They know better,” he shot you a pointed look, one you returned with a stubborn huff of breath. “Tink, I warned you. You’re dismissed. Workshop, now.” 

“Aye-aye, Captain,” you spat, your heels clicking together as you saluted him with your index and middle finger. You marched yourself below decks, mentally scolding yourself on your shamelessness in front of someone who was finally your type. 

As the door closed behind you, Law released a breath he didn’t know he was withholding. As he opened his mouth to speak, Kid spoke over him.

“Did you say tinkerer, Traffy?” his eyes were still fixed on the door you just exited through, his voice almost soft in curiosity.

“That I did,” Law confessed with a huffed breath, “Let’s get back to our meeting so we can get this bullshit over with, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” Kid exhaled, turning back to meet his gaze with Luffy and his own crew. He spared one more glance over his shoulder towards the lower deck door of the Polar Tang. Curiosity had you plaguing his thoughts, swirling within every crevice of his mind as he attempted to engage in the fruitless Nakama meeting with the Heart, Kid and Straw-Hat pirate captains. 

Pausing just before joining up with Luffy, Kid turned once more to Law and grunted out a small cough. Law lazily turned his face over to him, angling his chin upwards to stare at the larger man. Kid’s cheeks dusted with a small tint of pink, elevating his right hand and pressing it against his lips while grunting through his next choice words. 

“They single?”

Law groaned, throwing his head back as he and Kid rejoined themselves next to Luffy to discuss the next aspect of their meeting: no words finding anchor within the Straw-Hat captain’s mind, as he was too busy contemplating when the next meal was to be presented. Will Sanji cook it? Will Kid’s crew, or Law’s provide it? Will it include meat? He hoped it would.

Part 2

[miss-daisy04]

struggles - ot8 drabble

the request was quite long, so i'll put a screenshot of it after the short story (btw super sorry it was short!!) (also i said y/n was majoring in computer science cause that's what my gf is majoring in, i happen to be double-majoring in political science and anthropology, so i'm prepared for law school LMAO).

warnings: mentions of burn-out, overworking.

word count: 0.5k

Y/n is known for her kind heart and brilliant mind. She was in her third year of college, majoring in computer science, and was always immersed in a whirlwind of assignments, projects, and deadlines. Alongside her academic pursuits, Y/n was inseparable from her group of eight close friends—Jisung, Minho, Chris, Felix, Changbin, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin. They were a diverse bunch, each with their own passions and personalities, but they all shared a deep bond with her.

As the semester progressed, Y/n found herself buried under a mountain of coursework. She was perpetually sleep-deprived, skipping meals, and neglecting her personal care. Her friends noticed the change in her behavior. The dark circles under her eyes, the unkempt hair, and her dwindling energy. Concerned, they would gently remind her to take care of herself.

"Eat something, Y/n. You look like you haven't had a proper meal in days," Minho would say as he handed her a sandwich during a study session.

"You need to get some rest, Y/n. You can't survive on caffeine alone," Chris would insist, eyeing her with worry.

Despite their well-meaning efforts, Y/n would brush off their concerns with a smile, always insisting that she was fine and just needed to focus on her work.

Weeks passed, and Y/n's condition worsened. One evening, after a particularly grueling coding session, Y/n collapsed on her desk in tears. She had reached her breaking point. It was Jisung who found her first, his heart sinking at the sight of his friend in distress.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Jisung asked gently, kneeling beside her.

"I-I can't do this anymore," Y/n admitted, her voice cracking. "I'm so tired, but I can't keep up. Everything's falling apart."

Jisung's expression softened. He knew that Y/n had been pushing herself beyond her limits. Quickly, he called their other friends, and soon, the entire group gathered around her. They listened as Y/n poured out her struggles. The stress, the pressure, the fear of failure.

"We're here for you, Y/n," Felix reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You don't have to do this alone," Changbin added with a reassuring smile.

Overwhelmed by their support, Y/n finally allowed herself to break down completely, tears streaming down her face. Her friends enveloped her in a warm embrace, offering words of encouragement and understanding.

"You're incredible, Y/n," Hyunjin praised. "Look at everything you've achieved. It's okay to take a step back sometimes."

"We care about you, Y/n," Jeongin said softly. "Let us take care of you, like you've always taken care of us."

Y/n realized the importance of self-care and accepting help from those who cared about her. With her friends by her side, she vowed to prioritize her well-being and seek balance within her life.

request:

i hope you enjoyed it! if you did, please show admiration of my work by liking/reblogging/sharing/commenting! it really shows me how i am doing as a writer ♡

[veritas-scribblings]

clock - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 619

The way Regulus understands it: the Hufflepuff boy had just looked at Evan wrong and Evan had punched him, and Barty had seen an altercation happening and thought it looked like great fun.

The way Barty understands it: Barty was being loyal, because Evan is their family and soulmate, and people aren’t allowed to treat Evan that way.

Either way it occurred, Barty has ended up in detention yet again, for the fourth time that week. But, Regulus supposes, at least Barty managed to land a detention for a different reason than the typical, ‘why haven’t you completed the allocated reading?’ or ‘where is the assignment that’s due?’ or the more frequent, ‘why aren’t you brewing the potion / the answering the questions / practising the spell?’

Barty is so regular a participant in after-class detentions that several of their professors have gotten tired of his presence and instead allocated him to sessions in Study Hall.

This is one of those times.

Regulus drops himself into the seat next to Barty, who has filled his parchment with doodlings of two figures in what Regulus assumes is meant to be suggestive positions. Grinning, Barty writes under two stick figures doing Merlin-only-knows-what: this one is you. 

Regulus frowns, confused, because he’s pretty sure he’s looking at two stick figures. ‘They’re never going to let you out if you don’t complete your assignments,’ he whispers. ‘We have chapter 9 to read for Transfiguration before tomorrow, and the essay on non-verbal spells was due yesterday…’

‘I don’t need to write a stupid essay, I know all that shit already.’ Barty scoffs and rolls his eyes. ‘The intermediate transfiguration textbook is so dull, anyway. It’s got shit all information about non-verbal magic,’ he says, squinting down at his new set of doodled stick figures. ‘Rabelais’s Book of Magickal Law is so much more comprehensive. If you wanna know about non-verbal magic, I recommend you read that.’ He points at a stick figure that appears to be doing a handstand and says with a smile that’s a little bit devious, ‘this one’s you.’

‘Whether you know it is not the point, you still need to complete the coursework.’

‘That,’ Barty says, dramatically adding a flourish to the stick figure that’s meant to be Regulus, ‘is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. And I’ve heard a lot of stupid things. In fact, most people just live their lives walking around saying stupid things.’ He pauses. Frowns. ‘I need to add your floppy hair.’

‘Can we help you, Black?’ When McGonagall stops by their desk, Regulus quickly covers Barty’s parchment, because the last thing he needs is for Barty to end up in even more detentions. She frowns, suspicious, but doesn’t address the matter. Most likely, Regulus assumes, because she doesn’t want to have to put up with yet another afternoon of babysitting Barty Crouch Jnr. 

McGonagall sighs. ’Please sit elsewhere. Your friend is not here to socialise.’

Regulus picks up his books and tucks them under his arm. He knows Barty is going to be here for a while, because Barty is stubborn and enjoys antagonising teachers who have yet to learn one very important fact: Barty Crouch Jnr is perpetually bored and needs a challenge, and if that challenge cannot come in the form of an academic challenge, he will happily accept a battle of the wills.

Regulus leans down and whispers by Barty’s ear, because even if Barty will not listen to a teacher, he'll always listen to Regulus, ‘Do your work. I’m bored, and I wanna get out of here.’

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 17.1 - dancing in the dark

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (angst, language, graphic sexual content)

Word Count: 2400

☾

I get up in the evenin' And I ain't got nothin' to say I come home in the mornin' I go to bed feelin' the same way

☾

May 16, 1984 - junior year

"Toilet paper?"

"Check."

"Eggs?"

"Check."

"Red lipstick?"

"Check," Robin answered, then lifted an eyebrow at her sister. "Wait, what do we need the lipstick for?"

Eddie butted in between the two Buckley girls from the back seat of your father's work truck. "Perhaps if I wear lipstick I'll be less recognizable?"

You snorted, both hands on the wheel. "I don't think a disguise is necessary. Honestly, if you get caught, what else do you have to lose at this point?"

The brown eyed boy sat back in his seat, shoulders slumping in a mild sense of defeat. You still hadn't really talked to him since showing up on his doorstep with Robin. You were quite clearly on a mission and having fun with your sister, but Eddie knew you well enough that you were still far from happy with his fireworks show.

At this point, he just felt lucky that you wanted to include him in whatever plan you cooked up.

And Eddie thought Robin was quirky. Like if you took all the seriousness and cynicism away from you, added a dash of band geek, BAM! Robin Buckley. Eddie found her perpetual lack of coordination and rambling sentences to be entertaining. 

On the same note, though, he was intimidated by her scrutinizing gaze on him - they hadn't really spent time together yet, just simple greetings in passing at school when he was with you. 

Eddie still had yet to properly meet your father, upon your request.

I think that's something that can wait a while, yeah?

Hawkins was empty this late at night and all three of you buzzed with anxiety. "Borrowing" your dad's work truck was a good idea, but also a risky one. The construction company's name on the side of it was a little more recognizable that Eddie was comfortable with.

But it was better than taking Eddie's van. He was always noticed wherever he went.

"How do you guys know where Higgins lives, anyways?" he questioned, poking through a toolbox that was in the back seat with him.

You peered at him through the rearview mirror, your shining eyes glowing under the street lights.

"Robin knows a girl, who knows a guy, who knew a girl that dated his son."

"Well that's a goddamn soap opera if I've ever heard one," Eddie mumbled, then leaned forward towards Robin. "Cheers, criminals?"

Eddie popped the top off a beer bottle, startling the two girls in the front seat. You slammed on the brakes. Snapping your head to glare at him, Eddie held a look of innocence in his eyes, a beer in one hand and a random tool he used to open it in the other.

"Did you seriously bring a whole six pack with you? How did I not notice that?"

"You were too busy stealing all of my toilet paper. Look, there's two for each of us," he held out the open beer for one of you to take, fiddling with the lid of another one.

Robin took it from his hand immediately. You stared at her in shock. 

"Hey now, don't look at me like that. He lit a car on fire yesterday. We just stole our dad's work truck… to go vandalize our principal's home," she took a swig of the beer, wincing at the taste. "Might as well continue breaking laws as long as we're having fun, right?"

Sighing, you nodded at your younger sister. "Touché. But save mine for later, would you? Drinking and driving isn't on my list of crimes this evening."

Eddie and Robin tapped their beers together with a sharp clink, then proceeded to race each other to the bottoms of their bottles. 

The truck pulled onto Higgins' street. You parked in a dark area underneath a large oak tree. You turned to your accomplices with a grin.

"Are you ready, bitches?"

☾

I ain't nothin' but tired Man, I'm just tired and bored with myself Hey there, baby, I could use just a little help

☾

The trio looked upon your handiwork, sweet revenge coursing through your veins.

Toilet paper covered Higgins' trees, lawn, and lampposts. Eggs were artistically scattered over the brick front of the house - Eddie specifically recommended not to egg any windows so that you wouldn't draw attention from anyone inside with noise.

Robin stifled a giggle with her palm. "Guys… that was fun as hell."

"I concur," Eddie said, hands on his hips.

You couldn't help but smile at your two favorite people. "Ditto."

When you were almost back to the truck, you stopped suddenly. "Wait! I almost forgot." Then you bolted away. "Wait here!" you whispered at them frantically.

Eddie side-eyed Robin as they watched you run up to Higgins' mailbox.

"Uh, so Robin, you think she’s gonna hate me forever? For what happened yesterday?"

Clicking her tongue for a moment, Robin stared at her feet as she replied. "I don't think she's capable of hating you." 

The Munson boy next to her felt a pang in his heart at her response, and was unable to find his own.

Then she chuckled. "But good luck with the dirty looks she'll give you every time you light a match around her. She can be really scary sometimes."

"It's her eyes, right?" Eddie said with a laugh. "Aggressive."

Robin patted him on the back. "Just don't try to blow yourself up again anytime soon, and I'm sure you'll be just fine in her books. She loves you, you know?"

"Does she?"

"Isn't it kinda obvious?" Robin pointed at you, who was now jogging back to the pair. "She’s never been a rule breaker like this before. Not until she met your dumb ass."

Before Eddie had a chance to process Robin's words, you ran up to them.

"Guys, let's roll! I saw a light come on in Higgins' house," and then you ran past them, out of breath and cackling wildly.

As you drove past the principal's defaced home, Eddie snuck a glance at the once bright, white mailbox. 

In red lipstick, you had written "ASS of '84" in swirling, fantastic letters.

☾

You can't start a fire You can't start a fire without a spark This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

☾

As you neared the center of town, you felt chills up your spine when Eddie's quiet voice sounded from behind you.

"Come stay with me tonight?"

You fidgeted in your seat. You would pick Eddie's soft bed over your own any other day. But now you were conflicted. 

"I have to take Robin home. And the truck. She can't drive it home alone," you explained, mumbling towards the back seat. 

You glanced at Robin, who was enjoying her second beer and looking out of the window at the passing businesses of downtown Hawkins.

But Eddie wasn't going to back down. "So? I'll come with you, then. Sneak me into your bedroom, I'll be your little secret."

"Do you want to die at the hands of Richard Buckley?"

"Darling, I'd die any day just to spend another night with you."

You had never allowed him to stay the night at your house before. You tried your best to avoid Eddie and your father crossing paths at all costs, usually only having Eddie in your room on days when your father was working late.

A bit of anger flashed in your mind, wondering why Kate was allowed to stay the night. You couldn't hold the anger for long, though. Over the last few months of awkward dinners, both you and Robin had begun to realize that Kate wasn't all that bad, even if she had a horrible taste in men.

And now, as you could feel your boyfriend's heated eyes on you from the back seat, a gut feeling told you that you weren't ready to say goodnight to him just yet.

"Fine, just this once."

"You know I can hear everything, right? You idiots are loud and the radio isn't even on," Robin gestured wildly with her hands. "I'd say 'get a room', but it sounds like you're about to do that. Gross."

Uncontrollable laughter bubbled up in your chest, adrenaline still pumping through your veins from the mischief you unleashed on the principal of Hawkins High School.

It must have been contagious, because Robin smirked at her sister.

"I'll help you sneak him in. Maybe one day you'll help me sneak in someone, too."

With a quick wink and the signature interlocking of your pinky fingers, you nodded knowingly at Robin as you pulled the truck into the driveway of your home.

☾

Stay on the streets of this town And they'll be carvin' you up alright They say you gotta stay hungry Hey baby, I'm just about starvin' tonight

☾

"Do you need me to wash your clothes or anything? For school tomorrow?"

You searched through your dresser drawers, finally finding a clean pair of oversized shorts that you had previously stolen from his room. You threw them at Eddie, who caught them with an uncomfortable look on his face.

"Sunshine… hate to break it to you, but I'm kinda done for the year. They suspended me for the last two weeks of school."

"Oh."

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding the disappointment on your face. "I think I might just say 'fuck it', you know? Drop out, get a job with my uncle. Eulin is never going to pass me… or Ms. O'Donnell. Definitely not Higgins. What's the point in trying senior year again?"

Your eyes were sad. Though still sweet and deep as a pot of honey, your voice seemed smaller than usual.

"You should try again… for me. We could graduate together." You picked at your fingers, not meeting his eyes.

Eddie Munson didn't need any convincing. It was clear how much it meant to you. 

"Jesus, babe, no need to beg," he joked. "You already begged me enough just to stay here tonight."

The small smile that crept up on your lips made his entire night. Sure, he royally fucked up with the fireworks. But you were still here. You took him to get his childish revenge on Higgins. You wanted him to graduate with you. 

Maybe there was still hope for a fairytale ending, making it out of Hawkins with you by his side.

Never really ceasing to surprise him, you pulled off your jeans and sat on the edge of your neatly made bed, spreading your knees just a few inches.

"Enough talking, if that's okay?"

Eddie was already hard. But he purposely hesitated.

"Messing up a bed this pretty seems like quite the sin, you know."

Tilting your head back, you scoffed. "Says the boy with the stained mattress!"

"My uncle gave me that bed, I have no idea where those stains came from!"

"Sure." Then you bit your lip, looking behind him in the dim bedroom. "Lock the door already, will you?"

Again, he didn't need any convincing. He pushed the lock closed on your bedroom door, seeing it shine in the hazy light emanating from your closet. 

The brown eyed boy dropped to his knees in front of you, grasping your calves and pulling you to the edge of the bed.

He ran his hand over your belly, then hooked his fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear… he said a quick, sarcastic prayer for his devilish conscience, then pulled the underwear down. 

In the darkness, your hair hung around your sleepy face, making it difficult to read your expression. Eddie didn't mind it, though. He just wanted to feel you, love you, hear you… taste you.

Both of your hands ran across his neck, your nails slowly exploring his skin, then down to the collar of his shirt. He took the subtle hint and pulled it off, discarding it on the floor. The dark piece of fabric looked out of place in your immaculate pink bedroom.

Eddie could feel the warmth radiating off the skin of your stomach, your inner thighs. He grabbed your knee and then ran his hand upwards, stopping when he felt your hips.

He didn't even contemplate his actions for a single second - Eddie knew exactly what you wanted. Pressing one hand against your backside, he pulled your hips forcefully towards his mouth. Your flesh held remnants of what smelled like rose-scented soap and sweat.

His tongue traced the hot crevice between your thigh and the wetness already pooling between your legs. Immediately, your back arched, almost collapsing your body like a little fractured marionette.

He was the puppet master.

The tension in the air snapped. Like a buzzing telephone wire on a scorching summer day - Eddie felt a fire being lit in his groin, guiding him as if he was a man possessed.

Self-control being a thing in the past, Eddie grabbed hard onto your ass, and you leaned back as you held onto his head. He tasted you, fully, unabashedly, exploring you like you were an undiscovered wonder of the world. His tongue circled your most sensitive areas as you whimpered, knees trembling.

You squirmed further and further up the bed like a cat in heat. He yanked your hips back to the edge of the mattress. You grabbed one of your pillows and held it over your mouth.

His fingers traced an arc along the underside of your breasts, barely visible under the fabric that separated them. It took everything in him not to fully undress himself.

His cock was hard, straining against his jeans. But there wasn't anything that would stop him from making you come into his mouth.

Eddie didn't think he had ever tasted something so real, so human, in his entire life. The sweat, the salt, the unique taste of you. 

He controlled the speed at which you finished - dragging it out as long as he could. The more your body tensed up at his actions, the more satisfied he felt. Your legs curled around his head like a vice grip from heaven.

Afterwards, sitting back on the floor before you, his face was wet. His lips were swollen. 

He could see your figure splayed out on the bed. Shameless and spent.

☾

I'm dyin' for some action I'm sick of sittin' 'round here tryin' to write this book I need a love reaction Come on now, baby, gimme just one look

You can't start a fire Sittin' 'round cryin' over a broken heart This gun's for hire Even if we're just dancin' in the dark

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Dancing in the Dark" by Bruce Springsteen)

TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!

taglist: @siriuslysmoking@emesis-nemisis@ishouldclean@thegirlblogstuff@insert-geeky-things-here@melonmonstereater@well-be-okay-dear-valentine@mewchiili@maridevial @sp1dyb0y1008 @totallynani @the-historical-biscuit2468 @borhapgirlforlife19 @amandaauroraelli @daggerdear @nvrendfangirl @lausnotverybright @salvinaa @psychotickoda @hiimerinhime @heyyallitsnaomi @trixyvixx

[blkmorticia]

HOLIEST OF SINS 3 — FORBIDDEN EMBRACE

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. AARON TAYLOR JOHNSON X BLACK!READER

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. Aaron realizes that his obsession with y/n goes deeper than he initially thought. However, he soon realizes that he is not alone in his desires, as y/n also harbors strong feelings for him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. 18+ DNI ➨ age difference (ATJ is in his 30s and Y/N early to mid twenties) ➨ slight mentions of god and bible verse ➨ religious theme ➨ mentions of infidelity.

𝐀/𝐍. before y’all yell at me! I know! this one is not a smut chapter just yet but i hope you guys notice the tension between each other *cries* i hope i convey it really well in this story!

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 12.5k

1 2 [you’re reading chapter 3 right now!]

"Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law." - Romans 13:8

The rain twinkles against your windows creating a soft tinkling sound as your eyes flutter open. You are beyond exhausted. The only thing that is running through your mind is more sleep as you see the rain trickling down along the window pane.

You feel at peace and then, suddenly, regret— consciously beating yourself up for staying up so late. You could barely keep your eyes open, your body so tired and your mind begging for sleep. Eyelids get heavier, breathing gets steadier, and just as you were about to fall back to a deep sleep— your mother comes rushing into your room and starts rummaging through your closet. A surge of annoyance runs through you. You slung the pillow over your head to drown her ever perpetual nagging voice. To your dismay, she pinches you on your rear which immediately makes you sit up.

“Ouch, why would you do that?!”

Your mother rolls her eyes and sucks in her teeth in immediate irritation. “Girl, It didn’t hurt that bad. Stop being so dramatic and get up. get your outfit ready. We’re going to a church event.”

“Can I just stay home?”

“No,” she said with a pointed look.

You look at your mother as if to say ‘Are you serious?’. You begrudgingly get up from your bed, crossing your arms. You want to stay home, as being in a community-wide event is the last thing you want to do. Your mother quickly notices your attitude, and she gives you a hard look.

"Don't give me an attitude, Y/N. We are going to this event and that's final. Aaron has worked very hard planning this event. You will be polite and you will enjoy every minute of it." She did not tolerate your sassiness and attitude, and she wanted you to be on your best behavior for this event. What she didn't know, however, was that your heart started to beat very quickly whenever she thought of Aaron, your crush.

You'll definitely be on your best behavior, alright.

You formed a crush on him in your senior year of highschool. You never pay attention to your father’s friends at all—until he caught your eye that day at the pool party. Your father had pulled a prank on him by pushing him onto the pool and Aaron came out agitated in the kind of playful way that attracted you. It was an awakening, to see his white tee shirt, now wet, imprinted onto his abs. You've never noticed how good looking he was until then.

As the weather starts to clear up, it doesn't take long to get ready and you make sure everything is well packed in your purse. Your phone was charged and your airpods were charged for the whole car ride. You can hear your father yelling at you to hurry up as you take one more look before heading out of your room.

The car ride wasn’t exactly in silence, the radio was blasting with Christian gospel music which wasn't exactly the mood you wanted to listen to and for that exact reason, you spend a few minutes into the ride listening to secular music on your own the way there to church. Looking out the windows, the colorful leaves on the trees change shades and you glance at your parents holding hands, smiling at each other.

‘I wish someone would look at me like that the way Dad stares at Mom,’ You think to yourself, wistfully.

The ride has reached its destination; a large building with the bolded words 'OUR LADY OF THE ANGELS CHURCH' carved on the side. You and your mother get out as your father drives away, grumbling about the parking lot being full.

Your mother pulls you to the side in a hushed tone, “Now, that we are here. Please— please, I am begging you to be on your best behavior. Talk to your friends from highschool. Participate. Don’t ruin this for your father.”

You were only grumpy in the mornings. One attitude is not the end of the world.

Her eyes were pleading. This must have been on your mother’s mind for a while, and you roll your eyes, nodding afterwards. She could be dramatic when she wanted to. She let out a sigh of relief and with that, both of you went on your separate ways, with her leaving you to explore and look at different vendors.

As you walk around, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, you accidentally bump into someone. You were about to apologize before you realize it's a familiar face instead of the expected stranger. “Y/N?!” It was a friend and the pastor’s daughter you knew from highschool, one you hadn't seen for two years. “Oh my goodness, it’s been a while!"

Your eyes widen, and you quickly take off your airpods to put it back into the case before engulfing your long-time friend into a bear hug.

“Lisa! I thought you were in Paris?!” You exclaim in both bewilderment and confusion. She pulls back to take a good look at you, her cheeks red from grinning so hard. “Seeee— I was…for, like, two weeks.. after we graduated but then I got bored and went to Spain instead.”

You and Lisa were walking arm to arm now as she continued talking about her experiences in both France and Spain. “And the men over there? Whew. Amazing.” Lisa cheeks redden and she raises a hand to fan herself, earning a laugh from you.

“So, what about you? Anything delicious happening in your life?”

You were embarrassed yet impressed with how she talks about her sex life so brashly and confidently in front of all the elders that were side-eying her as you walked. She didn't care. You’d like to be more like her.

“No—", you begin, earning an immediate groan from Lisa. “But–but! I made new friends at college and we've been hanging out at cafes and museums," you finish proudly. Lisa, however, gives you a stare in return and you couldn’t tell if she was looking at you with pity or with judgment. You also couldn't tell which one was worse.

“No clubs?”

“Oh no..I’ve never been to a club. I still live with my parents, you know? Strict routine of classes, hanging out with friends, and then bible study.” Lisa nodded at you slowly, understanding the situation you’re in.

“Rightttt. While you’re in your twenties. Live a little, maybe?” You roll your eyes at her sarcastic comments, strolling along the grass.

You look around curiously to see where Aaron is. As much as you love Lisa, you do want to see him badly. He was the very thing you even came for, anyway. You steal a quick glance at him, noting how he stands so tall and how his hands stay on his hips, blue eyes monitoring the children to make sure they play safely. He looks so good— too good, and seeing his forehead glistening with sweat makes you want to walk up to him with a towel in hand, offering to wipe away all his hard work for him.

“How about this— look over to your right,” she suddenly commands, her voice interrupting your little stalker moment. You quickly turned your head to what she was talking about, shoulders dropping when you see people jumping around in potato sacks and competing in what looked like some sort of race.

“Look, if we do this and let’s say it we compete with each other and I win..you have to go clubbing with me,” Lisa sets the ultimatum, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You were about to interrupt her with an ultimatum of your own before she went ahead, as if sensing you were about to protest.

“You’re usually good at this game so it's a fair chance to lose.” she shrugs.

“Lisa..No?” you start, nervously laughing at her idiotic idea. You're about to walk off until she pulls you back with her arms. “Hear me out. You don’t have to do anything crazy but dance to the music.” You both stare at each other for a minute, letting her words marinate before you nod at her in eventual agreement.

“...Fine. But I don't have any club-worthy clothes.” You say, emphasizing your complaints with fingers air quoting the words. Lisa waved her hands and scoffed. “Don’t worry about that, I'll help you!”

Lisa pulls you to the line without warning, gripping onto your arms tightly so you can't let go. Her eyes gleam with excitement and you both finalize the bet to participate in the sack race and if she wins, you’ll have to go clubbing with her. The sack game was familiar— you both always did it every year at church camp. The idea of clubbing doesn’t sound like something you’ll ever want to do but it could sound fun. You've never done a 'bad thing' in your life before. It's always been school, church, and whatever school activities provided after school.

You were the quintessential good girl.

The line is approaching too rapidly for your liking. A part of you wants to quit it before it eventually gets to you but the other side of you is competitive as well. “Just so you know, Lisa. l’m definitely kicking your butt." Lisa scoffs at both your new found confidence and your childish habit of not cursing just yet. “Okay, when I win, I’m definitely making you take a shot!” The two girls stare at each other with a playfully competitive look before breaking out laughing in unison.

The crowd lets out a surprised scream as Team Blue wins against Team Orange. It was now your turn to be part of the team. Lisa teamed up with orange and you went to the other side, tying up the blue ribbon on your arm. You quickly got into the sack, wasting no time. You were now in a competitive mood, although there was something — or rather, someone— who was threatening to distract you altogether. 

Aaron was there with his whistle between his lips, and oh— he looks so good in those basketball shorts! His eyes, so blue and— You shake your head, beckoning your mind to stop being so desperate and to actually think about the game. The loud screeching of the whistle breaks you out of your thoughts as you realize the game has started. You sprint in the sack, determined. You were so competitive and determined to win this no matter what it took.

But was God with you at this very moment? No. Of course not. Because you miscalculated your hops and fell forward to the ground, hard. Hot tears form your eyes as you heard loud gasps and poorly disguised murmurs from the crowd. not only because it is painful but because you had embarrassed yourself in front of the crowd and Mr. Johnson! you wished the world would swallow you in whole. Aaron rushed to your side and picked you up in a bridal style.

“shh, darling’ s’okay.” you buried your face against Aaron’s neck out of shame to hide your tears. He signaled the guys to open the church doors so he can lead you in and place you carefully on the pew.

He went ahead and grabbed the first aid and crouched to your level. you watch him soak the gauze pad with solution which makes you whimper in fear. He notices your hesitation. “It's okay, sweetheart. s’ gonna hurt just for a little bit.” he was thankful that you wore a skirt. that pretty, light pink now, soiled, looks amazing against your complexion.

He strokes your thighs to comfort you. As Aaron tends to your wounds with care, you feel a mix of emotions. The pain from the cleaning solution stings, but his gentle touch on your thighs sends a shiver down your spine. You try to ignore the fluttery feeling in your stomach, but it only intensifies as he continues to stroke your skin.

‘What is this feeling?’ You wondered, it’s that same feeling you felt at the pool party.

‘You’re so soft,’ Aaron wanted to say this so badly. It would be inappropriate under the house of God

He lightly stroke the wound earning a hiss of pain from y/n. “You are doing so well for me, love.” Aaron puts aside his lust for a minute to encourage you to overcome your pain. You can't help but notice how close he is to you, crouching down and being so attentive to your needs. His concern and care make you feel vulnerable yet comforted at the same time. The way he looks at you, the way he touches you, it's different from how anyone else has ever treated you. He sits next to you, dangerously close, and tilts your head up to tend to a bruise on your chin. Your heart races as you catch a glimpse of his focused expression—his ocean-like eyes. You find it hard to speak, feeling tongue-tied in his presence.

you gulped nervously, fiddling with your fingers with the tissue around your finger until it turns white. you steal a glance at his face. Your heart is going badoom-badoom.

“How is the pain?” You weakly nod, unable to speak to find your voice. His caress on your cheeks sends sparks through your body. “It hurts, still— but I'll be okay.” you stammer out a response. He pulls you into a hug. In his embrace, you feel safe and cared for, You never want to let him go.

The intimacy between the two of you is palpable, and you both seem unaware of how uneven your breathing has become. You sit in silence, cuddled up to Aaron's side as he continues to stroke your inner thigh to soothe the pain. His touch sends tingles down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into him, craving his comfort.

Aaron's face is close to yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. Your heart races as you catch a glimpse of his focused expression, and you're drawn to him in a way you can't fully comprehend. The way he touches you makes you feel alive, and you're caught in a moment of blissful vulnerability.

Drunk in his touch, you move even closer to his touch, you suck in your teeth when you were interrupted as people were coming into the church. disappointed by the cockblock, you reluctantly break his embrace, a pout forming is evident in your face. It was the only connection you had from Aaron, you never wanted to let go. You hide your disappointment with a frown.

Aaron cussed to himself to let go of her thighs—reluctantly. He was almost there. Annoyance spread through his body. He stood up, feigning a fake smile to her parents.

Your parents and Lisa find you in the pew with your head down. Your mother gushes over how messy your clothes are, rather than asking how you are, which is the norm between you two. You tune out her voice as you stare out the stained glass windows.

“I heard what happened to Y/N. She can be clumsy sometimes” Your father chuckles.

Aaron joins in, shrugging at the bare minimum. “No Worries, (Y/F/N). She's like a niece to me. we’re family after all.”

Niece? Family?

That brought you back to reality. He’s married. He's loyal to her. you’re just family to him. It was like someone hired an assassin to shoot your heart down.

Lisa interrupted your train of thoughts and sat next to you to whisper in your ear, “you know you lost right?” you are giving her a pinch and a look that mentally cusses her out.

As you head home, you can't help but replay the events of the day in your mind. The way Aaron had cared for you and touched you had stirred up emotions you hadn't felt before. But deep down, you can't deny the attraction you feel towards the blue eyed man, and it leaves you with a sense of sadness but the lingering ache in your heart. Aaron’s touch will forever remain etched in your mind, a bittersweet reminder of a connection that it will never happen or so you think.

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

I have so much work to do, it isn't even funny, and here I am, doing none of it. So, instead of just sitting in front of my computer and letting anxiety eat me up, I'm going to see how married life is treating Minglan.

I have three shows that I am actively watching right now. It's a battle to choose which one to watch at any given time. The struggle is real 😫

***

Well, he's feeling energetic the morning after 😅

***

LMAO, OK, so I know that the implication here is that he has great stamina and wore her out, but, honestly, my first thought was that she must have been doing all the physical work of their first night together, so she's now tired and he's up and about doing acrobatics 🤣🤣

***

LMAO, I'm on her side here!

Sleep above all!

To hell with the shitty in-laws.

***

What a thing to tell your newly-wedded wife!

Yikes 😬

***

LMAOOOO 🤣🤣

Hopefully he, ahem, learned other skills at the brothel instead 🤣🤣

He's so fully of nonsense, I cannot 🤣🤣

***

Ugh, these vipers.

The sooner they move out, the better.

***

Who?

***

AGAIN, WHO??

Honestly, my stance for this drama is that anyone who wants to commit suicide should be allowed to 🙄

***

Wait, is she implying that Gu Tingye is sleeping with this woman?

Because, seriously? SERIOUSLY??

Now they are straight-up lying to stir up trouble in their marriage! AND THIS IS, LIKE, THE FIRST DAY!! 🤬🤬

Minglan, don't be an idiot. Don't believe them!

***

Oh, and the lot of you are soooooo worried about how some random servant who is sleeping with the master of the house is going to live 🙄🙄

I cannot with the what-the-fuckery on display here 🤬🤬

GU TINGYE, WHERE ARE YOU?

THIS IS SLANDER!!

***

Even if any of this was true, WHO GIVES A FUCK??

OK, so, personal story time. Skip for TMI, or something. IDC.

When I was nineteen, I was living away from home for the first time in a dormitory and I had these roommates. I was a very stupid, naive, sexually inexperienced, frontal-cortex-still-entirely-udeveloped nineteen. I was studying architecture, the hours were ridiculous, the living conditions were atrocious (and I mean no hot water, communal toilets for the entire floor, no privacy whatsoever, perpetually drunk, eternally partying next-door neighbours bringing creepy men over, it was absolute hell with no recourse) and I was really, really struggling to keep afloat.

My self-esteem also wasn't the greatest and I'd spent my entire teens feeling unlovable and unattractive because, idk, I didn't look like Naomi Campbel, and was told from numerous sides that being some random average girl was just not enough. My mental health went down the drain that year and it never really recovered. I hadn't been doing particularly great even before that, but it was like that whole hellish mess snapped some final thread in me and it was just a downward spiral after downward spiral for years after that. It took an additional ten years to get diagnosed and put on meds because everyone is just so stupid and when you are young, you don't know how to advocate for yourself, or even that you should be doing so.

And then there were these roommates.

There were three of them, all older than me, and we lived in this tiny twelve-square-metre room with three single beds (two of them had to share because one of them was a friend who was there "illegally" because she had lost her right to accommodation for repeating the year and didn't want to go back to her parent's home for the time being and I was too stupid to put my foot down, report her and tell her to fuck off). The two legal ones were sisters.

And let me tell you, I was so in AWE of them! All three were tall, beautiful, put together and confident! They were incredibly popular and had men crawling all over them. I felt pathetic in comparison. I wasn't jealous, not exactly, I just felt inadequate and held the two sisters on this incredibly high pedestal because they seemed so smart and gorgeous (not so much the friend, because even though she was beautiful too, she had this self-absorbed, self-centred, flighty, shallow character that I just couldn't respect). The sisters, however, were everything I wished I could be, especially the younger one.

That particular sister, let's call her M, was also studying architecture. She was in year four (compared to my miserable first year) and she was doing so well, her work was amazing. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was the epitome of elegance, intelligence and beauty in my eyes. She could do no wrong. Hero worship was in full swing, I couldn't imagine she could be any more perfect even if I tried.

And then a few months into our hellish living arrangement, I found out that she was fooling around with this worthless guy who was cheating on his long-term girlfriend with her. They had an on-again-off-again relationship. They had broken up before because he refused to leave the official girlfriend, but for whatever reason, she was in love with his mediocre ass and kept going back to him. I was shocked when the whole story came out. There she was, the most perfect girl I had ever known, letting this cheating loser string her along like that. It was gross.

Let me tell you, that pedestal I put her on came crumbling down so fast because even my infatuated, naive, sleep-deprived and chemically imbalanced brain knew this was very wrong (it took me several more years and another incident with a woman I was super close to and had adored for years to teach me not to mess with cheaters and the people they cheat with because they are always fundamentally deficient in some hidden (or not so hidden) ways and that whatever damage they have that lets them act in this way will eventually drag you down too, but I digress).

In my shock, I asked her, why? Of all people, why him? This girl was so gorgeous, she could have had any man on the planet. She said they were in love. And I asked her, if he loved her so much, why didn't he break up with his girlfriend (mind you, the girlfriend fully thought they were getting married sometime in the near future). It seemed so obvious to me, if he truly loved her, he should have ended his previous relationship and dated her openly.

AND SHE TOLD ME THIS EXACT SAME LINE. THIS COMPLETE BULLSHIT OF A MANIPULATIVE EXCUSE.

Apparently, the shitty cheater couldn't break up with the girlfriend because the girlfriend had sworn that if he broke up with her, she would never marry anyone else and stay single her whole entire life. And he, the poor baby, couldn't live with that, so he couldn't leave her 🤯🤯

I had never heard something more ridiculous in my life. It was so absurd, and it was so world-altering for me that this perfect girl, the girl I had thought was so put together and so incredibly smart, was TAKING THIS UTTER STUPIDITY SERIOUSLY. I still remember it so clearly, even after all these years. It didn't make sense then and it still doesn't make sense now. It's the XXI century!! Break up with the woman you don't love!! What the hell is this nonsense?? WHO THE FUCK CARES IF SHE DECIDES TO NEVER MARRY ANYONE ELSE? IT IS NO LONGER YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM!!

Also, all these people were in their early fucking twenties, the absolute delusion that any of her threats (if they were even real and not made up by the loser cheater because all cheaters ever do is lie) were in any way a real and enforceable thing that would come to pass. BUT EVEN IF SHE NEVER DID GET MARRIED? SO FUCKING WHAT? NOT YOUR CIRCUS, NOT YOUR MONKEYS.

And there she was, sneaking around with this garbage man because he gave her this nonsensical excuse. The stupidity is unending. I cannot. I could not and will never be able to can 🙄🙄

And back to the actual show now.

WHO THE FUCK CARES IF SHE NEVER MARRIES? WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT BLACKMAIL IS THAT? FUCK ALL THE WAY OFF AND THEN KEEP FUCKING OFF SOME MORE UNTIL YOU DROP INTO A DEEP BLACK HOLE AND KEEP DROPPING UNTIL YOU REACH THE EARTH'S CORE AND DISINTEGRATE IN THE LAVA.

Ugh.

***

WHO THE FUCK CAAAAAARES 🤬🤬

Also, let's not forget that these are the very people who wanted to murder Manniang and Gu Tingye's actual children with her. They are so concerned with the status of a lower-class servant sleeping with the Young Master and how she will raise her head in public and go on living. So, so, so concerned 🙄🙄

***

Minglan, please tell them to fuck all the way off.

I am beyond pissed.

***

OMFG.

I am beyond sick of these wretched bottom feeders and their "path of survival" 🤮

BITCH, DIE.

***

True! Let's all ask him!!

I am sure he will just love all this slander.

This whole thing is just beyond WTF.

***

What exactly were her parents supposed to teach her?

Just take in some random prostitute for her husband the day after she was married? What the actual fuck is wrong with this woman? Worms for brains, I swear. The audacity is astounding.

***

OH MY GOD, THEN GO DIE ALREADY

I am so tired 🙄

***

This dumb fucking bully.

The best thing that ever happened to women was emancipation and no longer having to live in their in-laws' homes.

***

LMAO, how many statuses do these mistresses that the wife is forced to support even have?

Fuck off with this bullshit.

***

MINGLAN, ARE YOU SERIOUS

***

LMAO, wait, what?

They accused him of raping this woman?

Speechless.

Gu Tingye, please take your wife and fuck off from this place.

***

LMAO, Gu Tingye keeps making good life choices!

Gu Tingye is not among my favourite characters by a long stretch, but I do appreciate him so very much!

Go, king! Protect your wife and stay winning!!

***

Don't you just love it when utterly disgraceful people start blathering about not getting the respect they feel entitled to 🙄

Gross family.

[mavreos]

I'm ready to be tore apart by some crazy ass people who sincerely are a waste of oxygen but I need to say something, and I'll get political, very, and also pretty raw and without filters. Feel free to discuss in the comments if you wanna

I thought it was more of an urban legend but I actually saw someone that advocated the Liberation of Palestine and defended Hamas unapologetically. Let's be serious, such people are not just scumbags, but they are worse than Israel cause they don't understand the totality of geopolitics, and don't understand how Hamas is just a toy used by the Israeli Government to act recklessly against the Palestinians. I know using one's brain nowadays is getting more and more tiring but I'd like to ask you to do such otherwise we're all gonna meet our extinction pretty soon.

Let's start from common sense and the basis of Law from a sociological perspective. An eye for an eye is batshit, it can't work in a society that wants to progress, so using that excuses to praise Hamas is just stupid, especially because Hamas is composed of cowards that attack civilians, and despite they might be racists towards Palestinians this doesn't legitimates something like the 7th of October, where international investigations (yeah, without bias) found out numerous girls were victims of sexual abuses, something that isn't a rarity among the units of Hamas. Not on that date but they've been using PALESTINIANS, not Jewish people, but their own people, as human shields, they've had for several years a statute that declared that their mission wouldn't have completed until all of the Jewish people would have been wiped out of the face of the Earth. It's funny cause, there are way more leftists who basically worship these terrorists. Probably they don't know that before their ascension, Mussolini style, they passed their time killing all the parties in Palestine who weren't fighting like them against Israel. They are totalitarian, theocratic (forced women to wear the veil) and antisemitic, they don't make distinctions between soldiers and civilians and focus only on attacking civilians like I said, raped women multiple times and uses human shields. Netanyahu let millions of dollars pass from Qatar TROUGH Israel to get to Hamas while they stopped medicines coming by international organisations from getting to the Stripe Of Gaza, the leaders of Hamas live lifes full of luxury in Qatar while people kill themselves. Defending Hamas is as criminal as defending Israel, if not more since Netanyahu uses them as a Scape goat to be stuck in a perpetual war because those fuckers attacked first. I'm really disgusted by all such "leftist" who are ready to defend the worst shit just to go against someone else, Hamas has lost support during the last years even in Gaza, respect born from fear and forced because of the context isn't genuine. Defending Hamas won't help the people of Palestine nor the people of Israel who protests against their government every day. Same discourse with Ukraine-Russia, where people were crying out of joy for the Azov Battalion while they're Nazist and committed several war crimes, I think it's a vice of the Leftist people to do so. And of the western world in general, to support a side just because, without critically looking. We must stand with the people, those above are always committing war crimes using us as sacrificial flesh for their sick ideals and for their greed. What's up with the True Anarchist spirit that advocated for a freedom from all the higher powers ? Bah

I wish the best to all the people going through wars right now, I know this might not be useful at all, but someone knows about you, you won't be forgotten

[columboscreens]

What's your headcanons for Columbo?

Does he have a wife? Does he have over 10 murderer boyfriends? Etc

part of what makes columbo so fun to watch is that the showrunners essentially wanted you to make headcanons about columbo. much of the intended fun and mystique of the character is thinking about his personal life and what makes him tick.

now as for me, i'm completely nuts, so asking me about my columbo headcanons is like opening pandora's box. it's overwhelming. i have headcanons about what the man wears when he begrudgingly remembers to take out the trash at 11 pm. so i'll try to keep it short with my more sane and general ones:

his name is francesco

his wife is real. it's fun to imagine him single, but the wifeless theory doesn't hold much water. as time went on, the writers made a conscious and overt decision to make columbo's wife a real entity. between private phone calls and cruise trips, it becomes an active effort for one to ignore her presence, despite the fact that you never see her. in fact, they came close to showing her:

my headcanon for them is that they're like most interesting couples: similar in important ways, but complementary. e.g. columbo clawed his way out of high school, she finished postgrad summa cum laude. he's messy, she's clean. he loves gourmet cooking, she burns water. she's a techie, he couldn't hack his way out of a paper bag. she has her series 7 license, he kind of knows what a stock is. etc.

he reads. constantly. even if it's just the newspaper

he's more refined than he lets on. columbo may be a self-proclaimed chili-eating mark twain louis armstrong cream soda kind of guy who confuses HVAC ductwork for art installations, but i think he's someone who cares about the integrity of the things around him. he has taste. he's realistic, he values simplicity, but he's not a rube. he appreciates quality items, good food, good music, and fine traits in people.

he's more introverted than he lets on. he can be garrulous and friendly with strangers, but lots of times we find him silent and/or lost in thought. he largely works alone and we often see him alone off the clock.

his job affects him more than he lets on. i mean kind of a given, right? he's seen it all, but he's still human. aside from being perpetually tired and hungry because he's hyperfixating on his work, i imagine he has some degree of post-traumatic stress. in my head columbo wakes up sometimes in a cold sweat thinking about the girl who jumped off a balcony or the guy strangled to death at the gym

he was a troublemaker as a kid. i love imagining him as an agent of the law born out of his chaotic, delinquent upbringing. i sometimes entertain the theory that he's killed or had someone close to him killed as an impetus for the sheer drive he has for his work. i also think he was definitely the most annoying motherfucker on the block as a kid and his brothers bullied him for it so hard he turned it into a strength

his fashion sense is actually good. more of a gripe i have than a headcanon. it irks me when people diss columbo's fit. young columbo clearly knows how to dress, and stock standard columbo changes subtly throughout the show. but the basics--the tan raincoat, grey/reddish/brown suit, white/creme button-down, dark green tie, brown chukka boots--are very well-coordinated in color and material. they're baggy out of necessity, not sloppiness. he moves around constantly and thus prioritizes comfort in a job and milieu that require a suit and tie in sunny southern california. it makes perfect sense that he'd eschew a sharply tailored worsted wool getup and opt for roomy linen! he dislikes overly tight clothes. which leads me to...

...he's a certified Freak and he gets "weirder" with age as he grows less and less concerned with how he comes off to others--"masking", so to speak. related to this is that the raincoat is his safety blanket, as he's sensitive to textures and levels of pressure/constriction. just look at him trying to think in the Wrong Coat:

he's got a thing for belly dancers:

sometimes he'll swing by the grocery store at 10 pm to pick up something for the wife and when nobody is looking he rides his shopping cart through the store like this

he has a strategy when he goes to buffets. the little old lady in front of him may be piling noodles and rice onto her plate but columbo's got so much steak and shrimp on his that they're about to ask him to leave

[a-fic-reviewer-757]

We Make the Rules

by: sameboots| word count : 30667| AO3 |chapters: 10/10 | rating : explicit

Summary :

Brienne Tarth is tired of being Brienne the Virgin. Brienne is also awkward, shy, has no time for dating, and doesn't want to figure out how to broach the topic of virginity if she ever does date again. Enter Jaime Lannister: her handsome colleague who is also perpetually single, much to Brienne's confusion. But as tends to happen, the perfectly reasonable solution to a perfectly ridiculous problem gets a little more complicated.

--

“You asked me for a favor.” He places his elbows on the table, leaning over them, getting even closer to her. “And that favor was for me to sleep with you.”

Brienne might have a heart attack or vomit, there’s really no way to predict at this point, both seem imminently likely. She miserably answers, “Yes.”

Jaime’s eyebrows furrow again, his mouth firming in concentration. It’s possible the most painful part of this entire conversation is how well she knows his face, his expressions, how easily she can read him now.

“In that case, I have questions.”

Tags :

Friends With Benefits | Loss of Virginity | First Time | Mutual Pining | Resolved Sexual Tension| Unresolved Emotional Tension | Alternate Universe - Lawyers | Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Review : 💜 💜 💜 💜 💜

Most beautiful fic, everything is beautiful for you who are looking for a Modern AU of Game of Thrones/ A song of ice and fire, this here is perfect. It's a modern AU that also sets Brienne and Jaime as lawyers and colleagues in a law office, and the elements of the friends with benefits relationship and how they develop that into a loving relationship, wonderful. The smut is wonderful and the characters are very good. I recommend it.

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~2200

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Eva watched Horacio key into the apartment with her mouth pulled down into a frown. This trip felt far longer than the last, even though it was half the distance. At every turn, they were met with delays. A layover that almost caused them to miss their connecting flight, a run-in with customs, and a terribly irate taxi driver who took the turns too fast. It was as if the very universe wanted to keep them out of Mexico.

The hit of the air conditioning across her face was very, very welcome. Eva sighed as she followed Horacio inside and set her bags down next to the door. Her shoulders dropped from where they felt perpetually shrugged up near her ears. The sweat on her brow evaporated, taking all the discomfort with it.

She toed off her shoes and closed the door. Then, she took a look around.

It was...nice.

She guessed.

The walls were freshly painted and the furniture was new. Some artwork dotted the area, like the kind she might find in a hotel. The décor was all clean lines and sharp, shining metal. As if the room was trying to project an air of sophistication that it definitely did not have.

Horacio opened the fridge, “We have groceries.”

“Do we have alcohol?” Eva replied in a wry tone.

He leaned down and plucked a bottle from the shelf, “We do.”

“Thank God,” she sighed, “I have needed a drink for at least four hours.”

“Only four?” Horacio asked as he popped the top off two bottles.

“I was being generous.”

“Oh? I couldn’t tell.”

She rolled her eyes and took the bottle from him, drinking deep, “Do you think that driver actually had a license? Because I have doubts.”

One side of his mouth lifted, “Should I call the union?”

“You think they have a union?”

A shrug, “Its possible.”

“We’ll call them in the morning,” Eva drawled as she dropped onto the couch, “I’m too tired to deal with customer service.”

Horacio sat down next to her, “You didn’t have to come with me. You know that, right?”

Eva cut him a look, “Yes, I did.” A pause and a sigh, “I’m not having this argument again.”

He leaned his head back against the couch. Eva felt his had reach for hers and looked down to see their fingers threaded together.

“Its only for a few weeks,” Horacio muttered, sounding tired.

“I know.”

He looked at her, “I mean it.”

“I know.”

Horacio pushed from the couch with a soft grunt and pointed at her beer, “Finish that, and we’ll see if the bed is any good.”

Three hours and one desperately needed nap later, Horacio was warming tortillas in a pan while Eva plated the rice and vegetables at the island behind him. The bed was...fine. Serviceable. But, she missed their bed at home. Missed that it smelled like them. Missed the warmth of the comforters and the low drone of the fan Horacio insisted had to run at full speed throughout the night.

A knock stopped her hands from throwing the serving spoon back into the pot. As far as she knew, they weren’t expecting visitors. Horacio flicked off the stove top and went to answer it. Eva watched him the whole way, fingers squeezing the handle.

Javier’s face was not exactly smiling when Horacio opened the door, but it didn’t have the usual glare. He greeted Horacio with a firm hug and a pat on the back. To Eva, he sent a nod and something that was very nearly a smile. She returned it and went to get another plate.

There was no dining room in the apartment. The three of them ended out hunched over the coffee table so they could eat. Between bites, the conversation went through the motions of catching up on each other’s lives.

Javier listened to Horacio talk about buying the house, about his promotion, about the bullshit levels of paperwork that came with that new position. He asked how Eva was adapting and seemed genuinely concerned when she talked about how hard it was for her to get a job.

“Why isn’t she working for you?” he jerked his chin at Horacio.

He shrugged, “She could, if she wanted.”

Eva rolled her eyes, “No, thanks. I’ve had enough police work to last a lifetime.”

“The woman has a point,” Javier asserted with a careless toss of his head.

“Thank you,” she replied, primly. The conversation paused for a moment, and Eva decided that they had delayed long enough, “So, what’s the plan?”

Both men looked at her with narrowed eyes, as if she’d broken some kind secret agreement to dance around the topic for a while longer. Eva lifted her brows at them and waited.

Javier dropped his napkin onto the table and took a long swig of his beer, “I’ve got a man on the inside who is willing to let us do transport. I told him we’d need to be conspicuous, but that we would protect the product.”

Eva cast her mind back to their first few meetings. She set aside the razor sharp nerves and the desperate fear that she would be found out so that she could think about what Josh might be thinking. Planning. Scheming.

“That’s good,” she said, eventually. “Josh already thought you were in the business of getting drugs across the border.”

A nod, “Exactly. We’ll do a few laps around town, draw his attention, and then let him come to us.”

Eva could only imagine what that might entail. She kind of looked forward to observing it all from a distance.

Horacio leaned his arms on his knees, “Its not a very complicated plan, but I think it will work.”

“What if,” she began, with hesitation, “he doesn’t come for you, himself? What if he sends someone else?”

Josh wasn’t in the habit of putting himself in the line of fire, so to speak. That was Alexei’s job. And, with the Russian dead, Eva thought he might be even more careful.

“He’s been looking for Diego a long time,” Javier said, “I think its a pretty good bet that he would want to confront him, man to man.”

Eva laughed, “You don’t know m—.” She cut herself off, having almost referred to Josh as her husband. He wasn’t. Not anymore. “You don’t know him. He won’t want to get his hands dirty.”

“Rage can make a man do things he wouldn’t, normally.”

“Are you sure he is enraged?”

“His whole life got blown up,” Javier said, “We took everything from him.”

She fixed him with an even look, “Yeah, but he got it back.”

“What?”

“He got it back,” she repeated, “The house, the money, the schmoozing with bureaucrats? That was just a hobby. What Josh loved was the work. The chemistry. He’s already doing that, now. Or, so I’ve heard.”

Javier was silent for a few seconds, mouth pursed into an ‘o’. Then, “What do you think we should do?”

The tone of his voice was soft, but he clearly wanted an answer. Eva sat back a little and thought about it. There were a lot of options, most of them so complicated that it would definitely extend the timeline Horacio promised her. She wanted to get back to Colombia as soon as possible. If they took the next plane out of the country, it wouldn’t be soon enough. But, how? How, how, how?

“You need to dangle something he thinks he owns in front of him. Something he will want to get back.” Here she paused and added, with emphasis, “personally.”

Javier drew back, “The fuck does that mean?”

Eva picked up her beer, “You said you took everything from him. He got the thing he cares most about back. The only thing he would even want is…”

It was a foolish thought.

A stupid, foolish thought.

Horacio leaned towards her, “Is?”

Eva looked at him, took in the warm brown of his eyes and that way he hadn’t yet tamed the curls that fell over his brow. He looked a bit like he did when they woke up in the morning. Sweet. Adorable.

“Me.”

All the warmth faded from Horacio’s eyes, “You?”

It was a question, but felt like an accusation.

She felt a small stab of insecurity about what she was about to say, but pushed on, anyway. “Yes. Me.” A breath, “I was property to him. A tool he used to do business. I can tell you that getting his operation off the ground here in Mexico was a hell of a lot harder without me to figure out the logistics and manage the money.” Eva looked at them both, in turn, “He’s going to want his tool back.”

Eva did not say the other half of her explanation. There wasn’t a need to remind him that there was something else Eva represented for Josh. That he had plans for her. It would have only pissed Horacio off, and she needed him to agree with her.

“No.”

Eva cut Horacio a glance, “No?”

“That’s right. No.”

Javier reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, “She could be right.”

Horacio’s lip curled, “I didn’t spend almost a year getting you away from him to let you put yourself back in his hands.”

“Let me?”

Hearing the venom in her tone, Javier stood and gestured towards the door, saying that he was going out for a smoke. Eva rose and began gathering the plates in an effort to stem off some the energy that came with her anger.

Horacio, to his credit, realized his mistake almost immediately, “You said you weren’t going to get involved.”

She had said that. At the table over dinner. On the plane. In the cab. She’d said it over and over, knowing that it was a lie. Deep down, Eva’s motivations were more complicated than simply wanting to be by Horacio’s side while he tried to take down Josh for the second time.

“And,” she replied, “You said that this would only take a few weeks.”

He followed her into the kitchen, “It will only take a few weeks.”

Eva scraped the plates clean and set them next to the sink, “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Horacio turned on the water and plugged the sink. While he squirted soap into the basin, he said, “I didn’t know you were an expert in covert operations.”

He didn’t often speak to her with that kind of sarcasm and it made Eva bristle. Nearly seven years of marriage was enough to give her an advantage over just about anyone in the world. When it came to Joshua Moore, she was content expert, and she didn’t appreciate the dismissal in his tone.

“Really?” she sneered, “Because I seem to remember that it took you months to even get Josh’s attention last time.”

She set the dishes in the sink and stepped aside so that he could grab the sponge. Horacio squeezed more soap onto it and picked up the first dish to scrub away the remnants of dinner. “That was planned,” he asserted. “We didn’t want to scare him.”

“Sure.”

He cast her a glare, “He’ll take the bait faster, this time.”

Eva took the clean plate from him and grabbed a towel to dry it, “Or, he’ll send someone to take the bait for him and you’ll end out shot in the back on the street.”

Horacio scoffed, “He’s not that much of a coward.”

“Yes he is!”

He was quiet while he cleaned the next two plates, dutifully handing them to her. Then, he reached down and pulled the plug, “What if he shoots you in the back?”

Eva finished drying the last plate and sighed, “He won’t. If anything, he’ll want to flaunt that he has me back right in front of you before putting a bullet in you. Gloat. Just like you said.”

They stood in front of the sink while water slowly gurgled down the drain. Eva could admit that they were both right, in their own way. And, they were both just stubborn enough to reach an impasse in the argument.

The door opened and Javier peeked around it, “Uh, everything okay?”

Eva shot him a brittle smile, “Everything is fine.” Then, to Horacio, “When you go out parading around town, I’ll go with you. Let him think that you’re using me the same way he did. That will enrage him. That will get him to confront you, man to man.”

Later, while Horacio was asleep. Eva sat on the couch with a beer. In the darkness, she stared out the apartment window to the street. It was quiet, far more quiet than she expected in such a populated city.

Eva drained the bottle and went to throw it in the trash. Then, she padded through the apartment and into the en suite bathroom. With the door closed, Eva flicked on the lights and reached for her carry on bag.

She set it on the counter and pulled open the zipper. Hands spreading two sides apart, Eva stared down at the only thing that mattered inside. The metal gleamed in the light, drawing her gaze down the barrel. The magazine was mixed in with her perfumes and there were extra bullets in her suitcase.

It didn’t really matter to Eva what Horacio had planned for Josh, once they got him in custody.

There was only one way this was going to go for him.

[astraltrickster]

idk, I just wish it were easier to criticize how common it is for people to whip themselves up into a recreational outrage over Problematic Media(TM) while not actually caring that much about the core issue itself, without implying that they're...you know, WRONG that the thing Has Issues? Even when the example they're holding up this week as an inverse golden calf would be totally fine in a vacuum but isn't in a vacuum - in fact, perhaps especially then.

Like it's a whole pattern. Someone identifies something Problematic about a piece of media. A big enough name makes the criticism, and suddenly there's a Twitter mob calling for the creator's head on a pike. Depending on the target, half or more of the mob has probably never even engaged with it to see what all the fuss is about, they've just heard that it's Bad and Harmful and Perpetuating Everything Wrong With The World - in fact, a lot of that subset refuse to engage with it on principle for belief that the problems with it are some kind of insidious mind virus that will make them Bad People if they even look at more than the snippets in the latest clickbait outrage video. The problem is reduced to that specific piece of media. People seem to become convinced that if they can just destroy That One Movie/Book/Game/TV Show, then Society will be saved. It's added to hundreds of DNI lists...

And then it just. Fizzles out. People get tired of it and move on to the next target, many of them never having done anything but scream about this piece of media online, because it's easier, "punchier", and more fun to cheer for some rando's downfall than it is to donate $2 to an indigenous land trust, or petition to make sure an expiring nondiscrimination law gets renewed, or show up to even a tame, peaceful student protest, or show up to vote someone who wants to empty the library off the school board; and hell, many measures like nondiscrimination laws even open up the opportunity for people to sow panic in the form of some nonsense about how it's going to be the END OF FREE SPEECH AS WE KNOW IT and if you ever make a MISTAKE you're going to WOKE PRONOUN JAIL or some shit, and thus may even be opposed by people in the mob as "too much".

It's a thing that happens, it's a problem, it's shitty, and we should perhaps be discussing how to restructure online communication to make it less of a perfect storm to encourage this kind of mob mentality.

And the criticism that starts the cycle rarely comes completely from nowhere. It's often horribly overblown through the game of telephone that is this system - for instance, a problematic aspect that's tangential to the piece at large often gets bastardized into being what the piece is about - and yes, sometimes it's completely made-up bullshit nitpicks that amount to "but I, the main character of the universe, don't feel Represented by this so it's ACTUALLY hate propaganda" (see: every time a queer creator has been smeared as a queerphobe for writing something too lighthearted and "saccharine"/too dark/too romance-centered/not romance-centered enough/etc.), but most of the time there is some substance to the initial complaint.

That part always ends up getting swept under the rug in favor of recreational outrage and criticism thereof, which is a whole other can of worms that we need to open before it rusts to the shelf.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics With Titles That Start With B (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

baby, if you wanna try (ao3) - sunflowerwitches (orphan_account)

Summary: wearing jewellery doesn't work in phil's favour when he sees friends that he hasn't seen in a while and they automatically assume he's engaged. engaged to dan

baby, you could be the death of me (ao3) - manchestereye

Summary: “don’t make this weird, idiot. stop looking at my ass when we crawl.”

dan and phil are detectives who “hate” each other.

or, b99 au (kinda) and dnp are sarcastic little shits that spiraled a rivalry over some misunderstandings.

Back Seat Bingo (ao3) - existingcourage

Summary: Phil, a young television and radio personality lands Dan, an upcoming producer as a co-worker. Friendship is inevitable, but what happens when life, love, and fear gets in the way? A 1950’s Phan AU.

Back To Zero (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: One weekend, one house, five people, a recent breakup; Dan wasn't exactly thrilled, but he was going to show up for his friend, even if it meant having to share a bed with a stupid guy that sided with the even stupider guy that broke his friend's heart.

Bad at Being Straight (ao3) - Masterread

Summary: Ace!Phil and very gay Dan slowly realizing they may be more than friends, but Phil's not entirely sure how that's going to work out...

Bang Me Like Those Drums (ao3) - Analphancones

Summary: Phil is the drummer of a band, but how will the lead singer, Kevin, feel when he walks in on Phil banging his younger brother Dan as hard as Phil bangs his drums?

Barbie Horse Adventures (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Sometimes friends force you to get over your worst fears, sometimes you meet your soulmate in the process.

Bardic Inspiration (ao3) - dickiegreenleaf

Summary: Dan is a travelling bard looking for a safe place for him and his beloved horse to spend the night. Thankfully, the local tavern owner, Phil, can offer him one.

Because of Reasons (ao3) - adorkablephil (kimberly_a)

Summary: There’s always a reason why … so they come up with compromises. Or, Dan and Phil go out for a fancy dinner to celebrate Phil’s birthday.

been about you, since i met you. (ao3) - smallbump

Summary: Dan is the boy at school that makes Phil's heart jump and do a flip at the same time.

begin and never cease (ao3) - palomeheart

Summary: Dan is a grumpy second year law student living with reclusive, perpetual grad student named Phil. When the holiday season brings out a side of Phil that Dan’s never seen before, Meanwhile, when Phil finds out Dan hates all things festive, he makes it his goal to change Dan’s mind before Christmas. And also to find the perfect mince pie.

be sure to ring the doorbell (ao3) - frostbitten_cheeks

Summary: Dan’s a tired sports reporter. Phil’s a friendly vampire with no real sense of boundaries, a propensity for bad Dracula jokes and a habit of leaving his unconscious victims in Dan’s kitchen. This isn’t how Dan thought courtship goes, but he’ll take it.

be the shift of cornerstone (ao3) - frostbitten_cheeks

Summary: Japan is eight days of sushi and beauty and unwinding and Dan thinking of marriage far more than is necessary.

Black And White (And Screaming Color) (ao3) - mysticstargirl

Summary: the one where Dan is a teenager admitted to the hospital after his lung cancer hits a particularly nasty bump, and he hates it- but a beaming, beautiful, bright-eyed nurse named Phil Lester makes everything a bit better.

Dan is shades and layers of grey-black-white, but Phil is screaming color. The world is printer ink on cheap paper, Dan is thick, messy acrylic paint on rough paper, and Phil is pastel, watercolor stains on hot pressed canvas.

Everything fades with time, even masterpieces.

black butterflies and deja vu (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: Once upon a time...there was a little boy, his name was- well, that’s not important. There was a little boy, and he didn’t have lots of friends.

But don’t worry, this isn’t a sad story, even though it sounds like it, I promise.

blue can be kind, too (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: A tale of being scared, starting fresh, and making your first ever friends after experiencing violent bullying.

Or rather, four-year-old Dan's first day at his new kindergarten.

Breeze (ao3) - sarahjean

Summary: Usually Dan is the one sitting awake at ungodly hours of the morning quietly pondering all the usual things. Death, our career, our future and so many other things. Now it’s my turn. For me, I always lead towards our future. Our lives after this second tour is over. The plans we made over a glass or two of wine. All the big things that are incredibly amazing to think about.

Bring Me Home From Hell (ao3) - the_unwritten_ruler

Summary: It’s an important moment for Dan when he finally perfects the ritual for summoning a demon, but he gets a lot more than he bargained for when he sets the creature loose on his life.

Broke, Gay and New in Town (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan Howell was in dire need for a change - he hated his job and his life and he just felt stuck. His grandfather’s letter was a blessing that came with an incredible gift: A farm. Dan had no idea how to run a farm but he was willing to give it a try.

He arrived in Stardew Valley with few expectations but even so, he could never have imagined he would encounter magic, otherworldly creatures, corporate conspiracies, so many queer villagers, a secret destiny and right at the centre of it all the love of his life.

broken porcelain (put me back together baby) (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Dan wakes up - in pain, in little tiny pieces he can't make any sense of.

And Phil's out for the day, not there to take care of him while he lays in bed, contemplating the universe and why his goddamn brain has to spread its pain to the rest of his body on his worst of days.

[perpetual-canon]

Perpetual Canon Chapter 1. Light in The End of The Rabbit Hole

before / 8. axe rockstar / next where it started / navigation / about the story

We present to you - Ace’s misconceptions about the life of a rock star

OR: Welcome to The Spirit House Where Dreams Break Every Day.

Expectations: riding around town, hanging from a sunroof of a cool car, having a nice time in the cool night air.

Reality: driving to the grocery store in Russell’s rusty old truck. And Noodle throws a smelly old jacket over your head when someone with a camera looks at you funny at the stoplight.

Expectations: you slide in the life of the gorgeous singer like honey over toast. You sweep him off his feet, make him question his sexuality and seduce for the life of crime (but not like, major “Law&Order” crime) until he falls for you like rose petals fall under the wind.

Reality: Stuart 2D Pot have been blankly staring at the wall most of the day, for most days of the week you were in the house. You never saw him move. Or eat. Or talk. Or react to anything beside Noodle shaking half full cereal box that one time.

“Honestly, same,” - She said with a hint of warmth in her tone, ruffled Stuarts hair, and placed a full bowl in front of him. - “That’s bi culture”.

So, you sign quietly, no “questioning the sexuality” part then.

Expectations: partying!

Reality: Noodle going “No, Jamie, we’re not going to that event now, that’s a waste of time” over the phone about 3 times a day since you moved in.

Expectations: now you can finally rock this Axe Rockstar image, gonna bathe in it! And the Band, they even have it stocked in the cabinet! Just like your sweaty teen self imagined back in the day.

Reality: everyone is looking at you funny for a couple of days until you find out that The Band uses Axe Rockstar as an air freshener in the bathroom.

Expectations: everyone is saying to watch out for the producer, Hewlett, because he’s a creep and generally a really nasty person or something.

Reality: Jamie is actually a polite, calm individual, really, an absolute champ! Very supportive, and is always interested in learning more about you and your gang. He never gets tired of going over the family photos in your phone, and that’s a rare trait.

Expectations: doing celebrity interviews for Big Channels or fashion magazines, dropping one-liners like you drop your fur coat on the floor, being suave and charming with the fans.

Reality: Noodle very hesitantly agrees with Jamie to go on one (1) radio podcast. The host immediately notices your sweaty teenage Axe aesthetic, and ironically notes how “you can always smell the bassist outta the band”. On air.

And for the next 40 minutes you’re stuck in the tiny room with everyone, answering an array of hosts armed with ridiculous twitter-submitted  questions.

Expectations: having a nice car and a private driver to get you to places.

Reality: you’re the driver. Again. The designated one too, since Russ “can finally take a break from babying this kindergarten and enjoy his evening beer after work”. His old as balls truck scares you more than the haunted Fiesta you jacked that one time, but you decide not to argue. Maybe, if you’re driving, Noodle will not risk using that horrid jacket to hide you again.

Expectations: making meaningful connections with everyone in the band.

Reality:

1) After you get everyone home safely after the interview (despite Noodle tucking you under the steering wheel and driving the car herself for very scary 15 minutes) you smell more like old musty leather jacket than Axe now.

(You’re not sure which one is better by this point)

2) In the kitchen you find Stuart, calmly drowning, face in the full cereal bowl. You panic and freeze the milk, and then panic again, because the whole bowl got frozen to 2D’s face and he still can’t breathe. While you run around filling cups with hot water, Stuart tries to lift his head but ends up banging the bowl over the table hard. This should’ve given him another concussion, but at least the iced bowl breaks. You and Stuart both take a relieved breath to celebrate that.

(2d still remains as unresponsive as ever, and your subtle worry grows)

3) Later at evening very tired looking Russ finds you in the living room and presents you with a big box. “From all of us,” - He says. - “A housewarming gift.”

Box is stuffed to the top with Old Spice “Arctic Force”.

“Axe,” - adds Russell, looking you straight in the eyes, - “Is banned to bathroom use only.” He lets go of the box only after getting a hesitant nod in response.

(Next day, you feel very adult using Old Spice for the first time)

[blackautmedia]

I'm seeing some people raise the possibility that "col1ardgreens" is not a real person, but whether the claim is legitimate or not, the Anti-Blackness and violent hostility toward Black people is real and has been for some time. I'll post as I'm aware of any new details but damn I hate social media sometimes.

You can easily look up the replies to that post taking that as a legitimate Black person, racial slurs and everything. I know all of my countless Black mutuals, friends and family right now who are being called psyops and feds by supposed ally "leftists" who feel so violently angry at being told something by Black people.

Right now most of my mutuals especially on twitter are being called slurs, being harassed both by leftists, liberals and conservatives alike.

Nothing brings people together on an issue quite like Anti-Blackness.

It's also really apparent how many people aren't familiar with organizing spaces or the time or effort it takes to build up organizing efforts, especially with the technological developments of the last few decades and the complications of social media.

When you can submit someone's tweets as evidence in a court of law, when the internet becomes a space to radicalize and give information to people from the age they can start looking at a screen, when we have a visual connection that allows us to see past a nation's propaganda attempts, it's no longer just twitter drama.

These things all have very tangible effects on Black lives, but it's clear it's just a game to too many people. It's why so many Black people reject the term "BIPOC" in how it links our issues to people who also perpetuate Anti-Blackness.

Anything Black people do as an organization tool and to bring focus and attention to specific people in Black communities, which is what phrases like "rest in power" and "say their name" were modified to do is then dismissed as frivolous twitter nonsense by non-Black people (and frankly some Black people who like to align with them) and it's tiring.

A friend of mine from a few years back, one of the most brilliant women I've ever met is a digital organizer. She would seize up thread titles and names in order to prevent white supremacists from easily being able to organize. I find it completely asinine how people play off being online and in digital spaces as some fictionalized world that means nothing when it is one of the largest and easiest sources of propagandizing people available.

Social media and online spaces also are a fantastic way to stay in community with and listen to the needs of Black disabled people and the day to day struggles they go through. But just a few weeks ago, the same people were also subjected to harassment and casual eugenics over the same refusal to listen and engage.

I've seen so many people dismiss a tool used by Black people on digital platforms that has seen use and origin passed down in Black communities orally (so miss me with that poorly cited Wikipedia article because you spent five minutes googling a gotcha) that don't get captured or acknowledged by white scholars. "Rest in Power" was not some 2000s thing. "Say their name" is for Black victims, especially for cis Black women as well as trans and all queer Black people across the gender spectrum.

We have living ancestors we can easily contact to verify. Several of my family members were Black panthers, they were journalists and worked in the Black press, and they were there to know firsthand that it's not some new thing like those poorly researched community notes are.

But Black oral traditions are not recognized by white scholars and then nobody wants to have the conversation about appropriation. Because that's what "rest in power" is a conversation about.

And me being triply marginalized in that I'm Black, queer and also disabled, I learned a long time ago not to trust anyone or ever trust in allyship because truly nobody will have your back. I don't even expect most Black people to show any concern let alone non-Black people.

That doesn't mean I will ever withdraw my support for other genocides or for the plights of other oppressed groups because you really can't understand Palestinian genocide without addressing or understanding Anti-Blackness, but I also know that Black bodies are just seen as commodities to extract from and these last few weeks have made that especially apparent.