#Then eventually actually learns the full language

[mad-raptorzzz]

[ID: A drawing of two SeaWing dragons from Wings of Fire facing each other. Tsunami has her back to the viewer and is smirking with her ear tipped forward. She has mostly medium blue scales with dark blue along her spine and snout. Some of her aqua blue bioluminescent face scalers are lit up. She is smirking at Whirpool who floats in front of her. He looks stunned by the audacity of what she is saying in aquatic. His green-yellow scales are lighter on his belly and darker on his back. He has large ears for a SeaWing, which are adorned with several large hooped earrings each. Over his left eye, he has a small golden monocle which is suspended in place by a fine metal chain attached to one earring and one eye brow ring. Between them, in glowing and floating letters, it spells 'Squidface'/ End.]

The scene that made me laugh is when Tsunami learns how to speak Aquatic and the very first thing she learns how to do is basically swear. Headcannon that squidface is the SeaWing swear that functionally means dickhead. Which I think fits Whirlpool well. I tried to make him as oily as possible. His ears normally droop under the weight of all the hoops. But he's so surprised that they're sticking up quite a bit. He also has some big ears for a SeaWing. All the better to put more hoops in. I may do a bit of a redesign at some point and give him gages because that would be sweet.

Love Tsunami. Next up is a scene that made me cry.

[toastsnaffler]

weekend melancholy is starting to kick in >~<

[yvesntul]

abby anderson x reader ୨୧ ♡

18 + minors dni , fingering , use of pet names , reader is unexperienced , lesbians only ty

i don’t rlly take requests cs i don’t write to please any of y’all but i got a request like this n i rlly liked the idea but i don’t know where the ask went ( ? ) cs it literally disappeared on me .. but it was pretty recent so i hope it gets to u anon

she’s watching you, studying you actually. as a best friend, her last thought was for her to ever have you here in this situation, back against her chest, body begging for more while her fingers slowly plunged into you, her other hand caressing your thigh. not only was this the process of a learning experience for you, but for her aswell.

she was able to see your language, how you reacted to specific things she did, slow things to navigate your body. ‘ what was it that made you come to me for this y/n ? what makes me so worthy to you ? ‘ she quizzed at you, you could swear you heard her smile through her words. she’s resting her head on your shoulder, smalls huffs leaving past your lips as you got used to what she was having you take.

‘ because i trust you. ‘ and you really did. abby’s the only person you’d known for so long since childhood, it just never came to you that you would ask her what sex was like and next thing you knew she was guiding you to the maximum that she could give you, for now at least. you could feel the pressure of another finger slowly inching it’s way in, waiting for some sort of green light.

‘ yeah ? you think you could trust me to do this too ? ‘ she asks, pushing that one other finger in as gently as she could. ‘ sh-shit abby ! ‘ you wanted her to stuff you entirely. clenching your eyes shut and whining at the temporary pain. ‘ shh that’s it, you’re doing so good angel, being such a good girl .. ‘ that opened you up more. able to get better access to you, abby’s fingers moving together as one eventually became pleasurable.

the uncomfortable feeling had subsided and somehow turned into an eye rolling, spine twisting pressure against your core. her fingers were slowly, but surely, jabbing into your pussy, a small creamy noise following behind her movements as the wetness of you makes it easier for her to get around. ‘ fuuuck, abs .. right there— ‘ you could barely maintain pulling a full sentence from your brain, but luckily for you, you didn’t need to say a word. abby could feel every little thought or emotion through your pussy.

the way your walls naturally open up for her, giving her the opportunity to find that perfect spot. it was like you were made for this exact moment to happen, made for her. ‘ oh she’s needy .. thinkin’ maybe i should move a little faster, don't you ? least i wanna do is make you cum, baby. ‘ she says this as if it’s a promise, and to be honest, she was pretty close to achieving that promise. the sound of your whines and the squirms of your hips were enough to tell her to pick up speed.

and that’s exactly what she does.

abby plunges her fingers in and out of you, poking at what she was certain was your g-spot. every time she’d hit it with her fingertips, there was another whimper leaving your mouth. ‘ i feel you tightin’ up, you wanna cum ? ‘ tauntingly, she asks this as if you weren’t already on the brink of tears, ‘ don’t fight yourself, let it go. ‘ abby’s hand is moving rapidly, automatically making your legs spread further open. now, she was really there, and so were you. the knot in your stomach that's been there this whole time was starting to unravel.

you rest your head firmly against her shoulder. ‘ abby it feels so fuckin’ good, please don’t stop— ‘ you could only plead, ‘ i won’t, baby. i’m right here, i feel you, just let me have it. ‘ her encouragement works and she reels you in. you feel your stomach contracting as your heart starts to race. abby sits you up straight, keeping your weakened body from falling over while she keeps working your pussy. ‘ abby, abby, abby i’m really close ! ‘ you shout and her fingers curl upwards, creating a distinct squelching sound and you claw onto whatever you could find — that being the same arm between your legs.

‘ cum for me. cum for me, come on angel. ‘ out of nowhere, you release, and all over her hand, at that. your eyes are wandering, seeing blank spots trickling the ceiling as you cum on both abby’s fingers and your mattress. ‘ there you fuckin’ go baby, i got you. ‘ she pumps you some more before slowly pulling her fingers out, leaving a stringed trail of your cum to follow them. there was enough on her for both you and her to get a little taste — but she needed to know you were okay first. you were reclined against his chest still, eyes closed with your exhales being rather hoarse.

abby wraps both arms around you, hugging you from behind as she kisses the top of your scalp repeatedly, ‘ i’m so proud of you, yn. you did great – so, fuckin’ great. ‘ your head is still in a slight daze, and although your vision had come back, you hadn’t yet gained the full consciousness to realize what the hell just happened. abby just fingered you. plan was your best friend comes in, she teaches you, she leaves, that’s it. so why did you want to remain snuggled into her arms ? why did you want her to kiss you to sleep after coming down from that life changing orgasm ?

did you want .. abby ?

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐘𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐋 | all rights reserved — do not modify, copy, or plagiarize any of my works.

[sweetnans]

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.5)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 -> Pt.6

m.list

You woke up with a headache. You barely even drink last night, but somehow, the interaction with a certain one got you all pented up that now you were struggling with a giant migraine.

Sundays were always slow. You used them to complete your homework, and then in the afternoon, you had a mandatory dinner with Aizawa and Eri in his apartment. You talked about eachothers lives and then sometimes watched a movie together. It was really nice, especially when the idea came right from Aizawa's mind in a form to create a safe and familiar space to Eri, which you were happy to comply with.

On Monday, your headache was light. It was a pulsating little tingle in your head, completely bearable.

The first class was slow. You caught yourself falling asleep multiple times, but hopefully, no one saw you.

After the party, you made your routine on speaking your head off to Jirou about what happened. You two got into the conclusion that it was a delusional event that helped out Bakugo keep his mind in peace.

It was easier to pretend that that was his intention than twirling your brain into finding out the real purpose of your interaction with him.

The sound of your stomach growling startled you out of your head. You were sitting in the sun enjoying the rays in your face when you checked the clock for the obvious. Lunch break.

You hated making the line to get lunch, so Aizawa packed you a bento with some things he found at home. He was a man in charge of a little girl, but it didn't mean that he was actually good at cooking. He had some dishes where he showed all his talent, but others, you could see little Eri gagging because of the burnt rice and steamed vegetables that looked like a pulp.

You entered the lunch zone full of big white tables and uncomfortable chairs. It's was more crowded than usual, so you had to put yourself on the tip of your toes to find Jirou and Denki.

Scanning the room, above all the heads and trying to difuse the laughs and peoples screaming from one table to another, you didn't find a trace of your friends.

"You look like a deer struck by light." Bakugo's hand was wrapped firmly in your shoulder lowering your body to the ground. "Sit with us"

That was him in real life. A silence sneaky bastard you didn't see coming.

You didn't have a choice, so you followed him through the crowd until you two made it to the table where his friends waved you happily of seeing you with them.

They didn't mind your presence at all. With years of friendship with Bakugo, they have learned no to question his outbursts or his decisions. Having you around was weird in a way that he never ever had been interested in someone, and now they have started to get used to you because he always made the effort to find you and bring you with him. You thought that no one saw him going to the kitchen where you entered a minute before? His friends had eyes on their backs. They, of course, saw this coming.

"I don't know if I'm going to stick around. My friends must be somewhere here..." You said, glancing away, trying to find the yellow spiky hair of your friend. You had to thank him because his extravagant hair was going to be your salvation.

"Let them be, stop third-wheeling them. It's annoying, " he rolled his eyes and took your bento from your hands to settle it on the table.

You were almost embarrassed for his comment, but everyone were minding their own business, leaving you like a stray castaway with Bakugo.

Sighing, you took your seat beside Sero and in front of Bakugo, who was inspecting you carefully. You tried not to sink in your seat and opened your bento. Burnt rice with poorly steamed vegetables. You hated veggies.

The feeling must've shown in your face because Bakugo was fast enough to exchange his food with yours. No questions asked. He didn't have a clue of what pushed him to do that, but just for the sake of it, he needed to look nonchalant to you to keep going the game he had in mind.

"What? No, give that back. " You started to throw your arm to grab your lunch, but he effortlessly dodged it.

"Shut up, that's what friends do." he pinched one of the languid carrots and ate it without even flinching. You tried with all your heart to not gag at the sight of that.

Friends. That's right.

The fact of him addressing what happened the other night caught you by surprise. You convinced yourself that it was with the main purpose of keeping his mind at ease. It seemed like you were wrong. It seemed like he actually meant it.

The table was in silence. Bakugo's bento was unopened in front of you, and he looked at you like you were dumb or something. You glanced at his friend casually chatting about some class, Mina watching tiktoks and moving his hands with the rhythm of some trend while you felt so out of place. You missed sassy Jirou and even the nonsense spurting out of Denki's mouth.

"Are you going to eat or what?" He was losing his patience. Don't you dare make the king mad.

You opened the bento, and the scent of his food invaded your nose. It was spicy ramen, one of your favorite. The smell of the soup prickled your nose and watered your eyes. You couldn't wait to have a spoon of that in your mouth.

Bakugo observed the change in your face and felt something flourishing inside of him. Pride.

The way your cheeks regained color after sipping the soup and how you almost moaned because of the taste made his chest puff.

You looked at him with your mouth full and smiled at him with your lips sealed shining with the oil remaining in the spoon.

His heart took a leap.

"How's that?" he quirked a brow, and you rolled your eyes still smiling.

Cocky bastard, he knew he could cook. He didn't need another one praising one of his multiple abilities.

"It's good," you said, shrugging downplaying the fact that he could actually cook.

The different combination of spices melting in your mouth with the ramen left a tingling feeling in your tongue. It was a funny feeling that complemented Bakugo, crossing his arms on top of his chest and looking at you with sufficiency.

"Are you going to judge my food now? I know it's not good enough for your expectations"

Mentally, you thought that if he said something about it, you would pull the Aizawa card from your sleeve to make him look like an idiot. Who were you fooling? The man in front of you didn't know anything about shame nor sucking superior's dick. If he needed to say something, he would say it without caring about the who.

He was about to open his mouth to give you his constructive opinion about your bad excuse of lunch when the haze of mismatched eyes caught all your attention in the corner of your eyes. Todoroki.

The memory of him apologizing for Bakugo's behavior was a current thought in your brain since that night. It wasn't because of his mysterious aura or the trouble in his family that attracted you to him. It was what you could see behind those eyes, loneliness, and hell you knew about that.

His body language, always stiff and clueless, motivated you to know more about him. He needed a wire to the ground, someone to show him the things that he had lost because of his childhood. You missed a lot of things in life, too, but you were determined to pivot the destiny. You wanted the best for him, too.

"Close your mouth. You are drooling on the table," he mumbled, clearly pissed.

Bakugo snapped out of your trance. You were watching Todoroki walking in the room until he left. You needed to catch him.

"I'm sorry I'll be right back"

You left him. The man who shared, not, gave you his lunch. You left him hanging to sprint to another guy.

Your conscience didn't put any thought of if in your mind until it was too late.

"Todoroki," you grabbed him by his wrist, gaining his attention.

Even though it was out of character for you to chase a man, and before the party, you two haven't talked, there was some sort of connection you couldn't decipher. He smiled at the sight of you.

"Hey, are you okay? Your cheeks are red. " he pointed at your face with a puzzled look.

"Yeah, I was eating something steamy, and then I ran here so..." you said out of breath.

Catching him was a short sprint, but it left your lungs burning for the sudden movement.

"I-" you cleared your throat. "I'm here to apologize for the other night. He was so rude with you, apparently with no reason"

The last thing you need in your life. Apologizing to people on Bakugo's behalf.

"He told you to apologize?" He asked, knitting his brows together. You shook your head. "Then there's nothing to apologize for, at least you don't have to"

"I was really hoping to have a good night and the Cosmopolitan? It was delicious, I didn't get the chance to thank you, it was so sudden"

He scratched his neck and suddenly smirked.

"Yeah, I was hoping on catching up with you too"

If the red in your face was a statement made before, now it was permanent. You never said that, but it was like he read your mind. You were careful with your words, and even though you wanted to tell him that, you didn't have the guts.

"Maybe we should hang out, I mean...eventually?" You were a nervous wreck being so forward with your intentions.

You didn't have any romantic expectations with him, but you couldn't blame the silly romantic girl who believed in love and enjoyed corny movies inside of you for picturing a date with him.

"Yeah, are you free this friday?" He said bluntly without any pinch of shame.

You weren't expecting it to be so soon, but your mind didn't connect with your body before your head was nodding with excitement.

You exchanged your numbers to set the time of your whatever that was going to be.

You would be completely lying if you said you didn't feel nothing about it. It was a weird feeling, like excitement combined with anxiety. You came just to apologize and left with a date under your arm.

Five days were more than enough to find an outfit, a possible place, and, of course, something to do. Drinking? Bowling? Movies? The options were endless.

You were high on your cloud when you remembered where you were before that. You couldn't help but feel like floating back to the table. You wouldn't be capable to hide your smile or the redness in your cheeks. You wanted to giggle like a little girl just by the memory of what happened.

The sudden wave of euphoria disappeared in the moment you got to the table, and only Kirishima was there looking at his phone mindlessly.

The remorse was bigger than the feeling you had just a mere second ago.

"Where did he go?" You asked his friend, and he gave you a sad smile.

"He left a while ago. He murmured something under his breath and left you this," Kirishima said, grabbing his things and leaving Bakugo's bento on the table with yours on top of it. "He said something that you didn't end your meal I don't know"

Kirishima scratched the back of his neck and the waved you goodbye.

You standed there feeling like the worse person of all world while eveyone kept eating their lunch.

You needed to revert the situation.

In your afternoon classes, you didn't see him or his friends. It was weird because they were always around laughing and throwing jokes when Denki joined them.

In your last period, Jirou found you biting your nails at the end of the classroom.

"What's going on in that little head of yours?" she threw his books on top of the desk next to yours and collapsed on her seat. "Where did you go at lunchtime? Aizawa hauled you again?"

You denied with a sad face. You weren't even trying to hide your feelings that were completely mixed. You were enthusiastic because of the date, but for one reason or another, the remorse of leaving Bakugo after what he did, it was like a kick in the guts. You felt completely rachet.

"I was with Bakugo," the little you blurted was enough for Jirou to have her jaw to the floor.

"Did you two...again?" She didn't have to say the word that she was implying.

"God no." You shook your head and played with your pen. "We just sat together with his friends and then Todoroki appeared out of nothing and I ran after him, he asked me on a date and then when I came back to the table Bakugo was nowhere to be seen"

The transitions between Jirou faces were something you would tease her about it if you weren't so confused about your emotions.

"Why are you sad then? Todoroki asked you out! That's a good thing. There's no way Bakugo walking out is worth the downfall of your euphoric state"

You bended over your seat to grab his bento and yours from your backpack, and then you piled them it in front of Jirou

"What's that?" She quirked a brow separating the tupperwares. You sighed. "I can't read minds babe"

"That's mine, and that's his," you pointed them with sorrow.

"Girl, you need to be more specific," she asked, looking serious.

"He switched his lunch with mine because I didn't like mine, and then, after I chase Todoroki, he left me his because I hadn't finished yet" you grunted putting your head between your hands. "Now I have two empty containers with the remains of me being a shitty person"

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself." Jirou placed her hand on your back and rubbed it for a while. "It's just a lunch, don't let the drama overwhelme you"

"It was Aizawa burnt rice and steamed veggies," you took a peak at her between your hands.

"And he finished it???" She grabbed the bento and examined it. "Ick, gross." She gagged. That didn't make any better to your state.

"What am I going to do" you asked.

Something about Bakugo eating your lunch, knowing what it was changed Jirou's mind about him being completely worthless. It took guts to eat that, even Denki, who could eat from a dumpster, threw up after tasting the vegetables.

"I think you need to...I don't know if apologize is the right word? But maybe make it up to him, " she said, patting your head.

She was right, and even though you tried to escape that, it wasn't a lie that you thought of it before Jirou statement. You just needed the reassurance, and maybe, just maybe, a way out that's wasn't going to come soon.

The last period ended. You focused on mainting your attention to everything present mic yelled in his english class. He always left you with a headache, but this time, where your mind was divided by the class and Bakugo, you didn't end up with any head related pain.

After leaving your things in your dorm and going to the bathroom for a quick refresh, you made your way to the boys' building. The boys' building was separated from the girls' building just by a street, which was very convenient. It was like we want you to be safe and make good decisions, but also, you're old enough to have sex and get freaky.

You would think that the concept of having a roommate made it hard to have intercourse but it didn't. Well, if you were lucky enough to have a decent roommate. When Jirou wanted time alone with Denki, you were more than happy to go downtown for a quick shopping spree or to the supermarket just to give them some time. Jirou did the same for you when you solicited privacy.

Denki was kind enough to give you Bakugo's floor and room by text. He kept messaging you for the gossip, but you put your phone in silence just to ignore him. Jirou would give him the details.

The looks on the boys that were there were nothing but oblivious. They didn't mind having your or any girl around. In fact, they looked at you, no, sided eyed you, like you were just one of the numerous girls that dropped by the building.

The building was exactly the same model as yours. The stairs were located on the same spot, and the number of floors was the same as yours. You could practically suit yourself pretty well if there weren't for the smell and the tall guys that looked at you weirdly but not minding you at all.

Once you stopped by his door, you had to take a long breath before knocking. Here you were, demolishing every plan you had about him. The main plan was ignoring him, but there you were knocking at his door, with his clean bento and some homemade cookies you found at the cafeteria. Was it enough to show that you were actually sorry?

That question pawned your soul. Were you actually sorry, or did you just wanted to forget the event and come clean with him to fully enjoy your date with Todoroki? Didn't that make you a bad person after all?

Saying sorry just to wash away your guilt and move on to the next while keeping in the tab the main plan of ignoring him?

Why did he have to be so stubborn with you? Why was it so hard to forget the fact that you had sex with him and move on with his life like he actually did with the other girls?

You were paying off some karma's debt or something. Why you? Jirou and Denki said once that it was fun to rile you up, but that was after solid three years of friendship, not two weeks after you knew each other.

The soft sound of your knuckles against the door echoed in the empty hallway. You were crossing your fingers for him not to be inside of his room, but once again, the world was against you.

He opened the door, sweating like a pig. Tiny drops of sweat gathered in the line of his hair just above his forehead. He didn't hide the anger when he saw you in front of him. The muscles in his body plastered against his black tank top made you feel like you were shrinking more and more under his stare.

"What are you doing here?" He was quick to ask with a disgusted facade.

You knew that he was rough, like in every sense of the word. He was rough when he talked. He was rough when he walked. He was rough when he trained, and he was rough in bed. You tried to forget the last part, but your intrusive thought never let that down.

Anyway, he was rough, but that day, in lunch break, you could swear that you saw a little bit of softness when he watched you eat his food, just a peak of it. Now, that was gone, and it was your fault.

"I'm here to give you your bento back." You extended the tupperware, and he accepted it with caution that his fingers didn't touch yours.

"That's it?" He looked at the container in his hands, purposely avoiding your eyes.

"No"

It was one word, but that caught his attention instantly.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry I left you today. It was so rude doing that after you were nice to me. " Hardly ever, you had to apologize for something, so you sucked at it.

You only had a grunt in return.

"And I also have some 'I'm so sorry' cookies for you." You grabbed a transparent bag and waved it in front of his face.

The way he rolled his eyes at the sight of it made you smile. He was crumbling in front of your eyes.

"Come in loser," he turned around and left the door open, expecting you to get in with him. It wasn't part of your plan, but it was the least you could do. After all, you were friends, right?

You closed the door behind you and observed your surroundings. You've been there before but it was dark and you were seeing double so it didn't count.

It was a pretty Bakugo room. A couple of band posters, a ton of books, gym equipment, and a pc gamer. Super boyish.

"You don't have a roommate?" You pointed towards one of the room's corners where should be a second bed.

He wanted to make a joke about how good you were faking dementia but he just shook his head instead.

"A dropout"

You were pacing in his room, looking at everything and touching it if it caught your attention. Bakugo was tucking his gym equipment away while you snooped every inch of his dorm.

The man was there, looking smoking hot after steamy training, but the smell in his room didn't show it.

"Do you have those electric pots where you can prepare meals here? It smells like burnt caramel, " you asked, scrunching your nose.

If someone paid Bakugo for every person who asked that before, he would be a millionaire. At first, the mere question embarrassed him a little, but now he was used to it.

"It's my sweat because of my quirk," he said with raspy voice.

The realization hit you hard. That smell was the one you remember from that night impregned in your clothes. It made sense, actually.

Bakugo found it hard to believe that you hadn't realized before. You were smart, smarter than half of the school, but he couldn't blame you. After all, you never have ever shared a class.

"So...are we going to play 10 questions or what?" You asked, suiting yourself in his gamer chair. It was really comfy with little pillows on the head that you couldn't reach and in your lower back.

"Tch, no, why?" You rolled your eyes at his answer. He was sitting in his bed doing absolutely nothing. What a lame fucker.

"How are we supposed to be friends if we know nothing about each other?" you stated, marking the obvious. "Ok, who's first"

"Like hell, I'm going to play a stupid game with you." he crossed his arms on top of his broad chest, and that little movement lifted his tank top, giving you a subtle look of his abs. You needed to remain composed for the sake of you.

"How boring! I'll start then. " You were thinking a good question and something to get on his nerves. "What's your favorite color?"

"Basic ass question, red," he snorted but followed along.

"Your turn," you urged him to keep going.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up?" He scolded you sighing and grabbing his head in his hands just to lay flat on his bed waiting for you to magically disappear.

"Because I learned how to talk, my turn"

It wasn't funny doing this without looking at his face. You found that the way his brows knitted together or the way his forehead wrinkled in exasperation was the main entertainment for you.

"How did you learn how to cook?"

You really wanted to know this, but putting a real question in between a dumb one was a power move. Well, that's what you thought.

"My dad taught me, and I continued improving my skills watching videos and practicing dishes"

You standed from your seat and walked straight to his bed. Folding a leg under your butt you sat beside him. He had his eyes closed, but the sudden sinking of his bed made him snap his eyes wide open.

The sight of you against the light of the window had him staring a little too much. You were analyzing him as well, but with another reason, you wanted to see if he was messing with you or if he actually excelled in something else than grades and training.

"My turn," he diverted your attention. "Where did you learn to ruin the fucking rice and the vegetables?"

"That's a trap. You can't copy my question!" You smacked his arm and he smirked.

"I didn't copy you" he mumbled closing his eyes again.

"You just changed a few words to make it look like it wasn't the same" you huffed and leaned against his bed pillow. "Fine, I let it slip only because I'm actually a good cooker"

"Yeah sure" he added sarcastically.

"I am" you whined. "That excuse of lunch was made by Aizawa, he's a great cooker too but that specific plate is not his strong point"

The day you told him that Aizawa was your guardian, he was impressed. He had never seen you with him before, but the fact that he packed you a lunch was a strong sign that you were close.

"Text me if Aizawa plans to give you that again," he said, opening his eyes again just to look at your reaction.

"Why?" Again, you were smart, but sometimes the kindness in humanity caught you unprepared. Mostly if the kind act was made by Bakugo himself.

"Rat poison is better than that. I'll bring you something to eat so you don't die"

The way he insinuated the most caring thing in the world, making you all flustered in your seat and then instantly went back to his obnoxious state, made you squeak internally. What was happening? Everybody knew the tales of Bakugo being a pain in the ass as a person with everyone except for his friends. It seemed you were one of them now because you were more than surprised to witnessed this change of demeanor in him.

"Your turn dumbass"

From princess to dumbass? You were making progress.

End note:

big bulky handsome Bakugo has a soft spot for reader? Of course he has. That's what the story is about. It seems that they reached a concensus for now, but how is Bakugo going to react when he finds out that reader has a date with Todoroki?? We will see...

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

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[velnna]

Hi ! How are you ?

I have a question: what are the love body languages of Astarion and Staeve ? (like how they show their affection, how they flirt ...)

N.B: I really enjoy your art style !

Thank you!

I don't have a straightforward answer for that but I can say Staeve in general is a very outwardly affectionate person when he gets the room for it. He'll hug, hold, kiss, nuzzle or just lean against people he cares about if they're okay with it. He's also very vocal and used to rolling with punches so he'll say the cheesiest things both as a quip and with full honesty if he sees the opportunity. There's no such thing as stressing how much he cares about someone enough

So then the rest comes down to Astarion reacting to it. Just allowing Staeve into his personal space is already a way of letting him know he matters. I reckon he'd eventually warm up (eyy) to touching, holding and being held, etc, and for his part Staeve would learn to recognise and respect the times he's not up for it. I see them being obnoxiously cuddly at times, if nothing else for the way my brain converts them into cats. Staeve looks like he's a furnace so I imagine cold blooded Astarion would lay on him like a lizard on a sun-kissed rock

And then I suppose he'd verbalise his affection too, less often but meaningfully. Most of the time he'd just throw retorts back at Staeve but again, my boy's smart enough to learn when they're a sign of actual annoyance or just their usual dynamic. All that 16 INT is allocated into figuring Astarion out

Oh and Staeve would also be heavy on gifting and sharing shit. Anything he found interesting or fitting would be promptly snatched and proudly left at Astarion's doorstep, possibly followed by extensive rambling about said object

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

[my-smial]

Hello hello. I have come with random The Sunshine Court language headcanons for Jean Moreau, because I cannot stop thinking about him.

Neil picks up on Jean's discomfort with speaking French at higher than a whisper and eventually decides to use Nicky's desensitization tactics about it. He ropes in Kevin, and the two of them will not stop yelling at him in French until Jean stops flinching whenever he hears it.

Neil lived in Montreal for 8 months; when he wants to get under Jean's skin, he switches to a strong Québécois accent and Jean acts like his ears are getting burned off.

Jeremy and a little Cat and Laila start learning French, mostly "picked up a tourist phrasebook at the library" level. It's 2008, they don't even have Duolingo. It's years and years before Jean deigns to actually speak French to him, but Jeremy eventually figures out that if he pronounces a phrase badly enough, Jean will correct him out of shear pain. Jean probably picks up that Jeremy knows more than he's letting on when he makes a comment in one of Jean and Kevin's conversations.

The most unlikely, but I find it fun: Jean's family is old money enough that they actually still speak the local Provençal language of southeast France. Jean mostly speaks standard French, but his parents ensured that he can carry a conversation in Provençal out of some twisted disdain for Paris as a power center. Evidence: this is also the kind of person who would name their child Jean-Yves, lmao, a name that was most popular in the 1960s.

Matching with 4, growing up speaking French, Provençal, and English in a massive port city means that Jean can get through a few phrases in most western Mediterranean languages. In addition, being raised as the theoretical heir to a smuggling empire meant he had to learn enough languages to "not get ripped off," as his father would say. He says he speaks 3 languages, because he's fluent in 3 (and it's common to consider Provençal just a backwards dialect, not a full language). But he can also understand random bits of Italian, Spanish, and Algerian Arabic. Some he learned formally, some he picked up from other kids while playing little league exy.

When he gets comfortable on the Trojan's court, he starts yelling back sometimes when little multilingual groups form and chatter, and every time he demonstrates a new language the Trojans lose their shit. Jean has his typical disdain for their excitement; his childhood exy court sounded exactly like this and he doesn't get why they're so impressed.

They keep pulling the "sorry, he doesn't speak English" trick to get annoying fans and reporters off their back for a long time after it should have stopped working. He's given full interviews, come on. Use your brain.

[dadsbongos]

hi i happened to stumble across your page and i read your previous denji fics and loved them! may i request a fem!reader x denji where the reader is a transfer student and denji decided to show her around? it'd be cool if she was an exchange student so her japanese wasn't the best, too.

oh, and in the end or something, it'd be sweet if she called him her friend denji just like melted because he doesn't have great luck with girls.

i had this in my drafts to get posted eventually i cannot fucking believe i forgot about it nonny i am SOSOSOO sorry!!! jeez...

589 words - hinted fem reader but you're not described, if reader's dialogue sounds awkward its intentional

denji comes off as a ‘everybody leaves me’ guy for a sec but as we all know. everybody do be leaving him and its actually not his fault lol ~~~

“You have a nice head.”

“Huh?”

“Head…” you frown under Denji’s quizzing stare, then curling a finger through your hair, “I like it.”

“Oh, hair,” he repeats.

“Hair.”

“Yeah.”

Your frown deepens, “Sorry…”

Denji shrugs, hands in his pockets, “Don’t worry about it. You’re not from here, right?” you nod, almost shyly, “Then, don’t worry about it.”

When you don’t seem visibly relieved or even a little soothed, he continues,

“Really, it isn’t a big deal,” Denji’s been worse off, “I only know one language, you’re learning two.”

“I just worry other people judge me,” you sigh, kicking a rock from under your shoe, “What if they think I’m stupid?”

“They think everyone’s stupid. If anything, being a foreigner will get you admirers,” he shrugs, then nodding towards the door leading back into school from the roof, “Come on. There’s nothing else up here.”

A curious hum leaves you, “Why bring me to the roof first then?” you clasp a hand over your mouth, “Sorry, if that sounds rude.”

“Our class is on the second floor, so if I take my time working down from the roof, we can miss most of the morning classes,” he grins, sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight.

“Is that okay?”

“If they wanted a snappy tour, they shouldn’t have picked me,” he holds the door open for you, “What? You excited to hear boring shit on your first day?”

“Not really…”

“So… let’s just take our time,” he waggles a thin wood slab in front of your face, “Hall pass.”

“Hall pass,” you nod in confirmation, hugging your bag tight to your chest as a comfort device despite trying to appear casual, “Okay! Let’s take our time!”

You really don’t want to seem un-cool in front of this guy… His lax energy and low eyes, unkempt hair and spiky teeth; everything about him screams intimidation, yet he’s been nothing but kind to you.

“There’s nothing you really need on this floor, but I’ll walk you through it anyway,” he folds his arms, “Good to be thorough, huh?”

His tone gives way to utmost sarcasm, it makes you laugh softly.

“Yeah,” you press your lips before finally spitting out, “Can I sit with you later for lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Really?!”

“Why not?” he turns to look at you, “You seem nice. You haven’t tried killing me, and you’re super pretty.”

Again, you have the urge to shout so you do, “Really?!”

He nods, cheeks flaring pink, “You’re so pretty, I’m surprised you haven’t tried killing me yet.”

“Why would I want to kill you?”

Oh, Denji could fall to the floor right now, your voice is so soft and sugary and the crease in your brow is downright pathetic with how concerned it is -- you’re wide-eyed and pouting. You’re so sweet.

“Girls don’t usually like me when I’m alive.”

“That’s terrible…”

“I know.”

“I like you when you’re alive!”

Your earnest exclamation makes his face heat up, palms clammy. He swallows around the sudden uncertainty clogging his throat, “Seriously?”

“Seriously!” you beam, squeezing your bag harder, “You’re a good friend! At least, so far… I’m hoping we can be friends, is that okay?”

Denji sniffles, eyes stinging with waterworks, he clenches his eyes -- praying to avoid tearing up in front of you, and nods curtly, “I’d like that.”

“Yay!” now you’re full blown cuddling your bag against your chest, now from joy instead of nerves, “I’d like that, too!”

Denji thinks you’re the prettiest he’s ever seen when you’re happy like that.

[steor-ra]

What do you think about Reader being Alfred's apprentice, they would be the Batfam's apprentice butler. The man needs a break

(hey! so, i don't actually know what apprentice means because english is not my first nor second language i'm just relying on grammatical correct to fix it all for me. so sorry if it's not written the way it means. also may have carried away and lost the topic)

(Yan!batfam)

Well, good luck for them because being Alfred's apprentice means having to also learn how to tolerate vigilantes who have also picked up some of the stubbornness from their mentor. 

I don't know if you want your relationship with them platonic or romantic but either way they would be annoying for an ounce of attention

If it were more romantic in nature, then let them provide the experience; they will let the reader to tend to their minor injuries, even though they know full well that they could handle it themselves, just for the pleasure of feeling the warm hands gently nuzzling their muscled arm. They touch them and ask if it hurts. Well, honey, of course it hurts, especially when you look at them with those amazing eyes that defy explanation. All they can do is try to act normal and give you flirtatious answers like they always do, but since you came from Alfred, you have to maintain your professionalism and brush off all the flirtatious comments to keep things as they are.

If they were platonic, you'd need siblings to thrive. They won't treat you as a butler so you may have the real experience of taking care of them like Alfred would. No, how about they train you to be their sibling? Wouldn't that be more appropriate for you yeah?

However, you resisted and continued to serve them regardless of what they said to you. You already have a family, therefore there is no need for another obsessive one. So they'll have to do it on their own; they'll do the ruffling of your hair whenever you say something brilliant; they'll do the holding of your hands; they'll make clothes for you and force you to wear them so they can dot on you; they'll do things with you that only siblings would do, not butlers.

Eventually you lost from their stubbornness and let them be the another obsessive family of yours.

But I'll say, there's no need for another trainee Alfred to fill in when the main one is in rest because no matter how Alfred train them to be like him, they will never be him.

No one can do it like Alfred could. Just sayin 🤷‍♀️

[nathanielzalexandria]

I love all the headcanons of "Steve is not dumb he's..." Hard of hearing, has poor eyesight, learning disability or his primary language is not English. I particularly enjoyed @dwobbitfromtheshire 's recent headcanon that he's hiding it because his father hates feeling inferior and only Eddie realizes that he is not dumb. But I would like to throw my own hat in the ring.

Steve is not dumb. Actually, he's quite smart and did quite well in school (because his parents would not expect anything less). He just wasn't into nerd culture and everyone just placed their stereotypes and rumours of him being a pretty and privileged rich jock who bought his way out of school but couldn't buy his way into college. Nevermind that he was in the top 10 students of his year and for most of his classes if not topping them and if not he wasn't failing the rest other than one or two science/math-based (rumours say the school forged those marks so that Steve could continue sports) and had a 3.6 GPA. It wasn't enough to get into his Dad's alma mater so his dad dismissed any of the other schools he got accepted into.

He does not try to hide his intelligence from Nancy or the Party, but Nancy had bought into the "Steve is simple-minded " narrative and the like before they got together and failed to realize that they are both in the same AP classes that were full of seniors and in any group or partnered project he more-than-well pulled his weight and had his own insights. So she spreads the narrative to Mike who spreads it to the rest of the party so by the time the events that befan with Dustin asks him for help with his "dog" and developed into concussed in the back of a car while a preteen drove his car, the kids have also bought into parts of the narrative. It doesn't help that he really isn't into the stereotypical nerdy stuff

Even his best friend Robin believed the lie until she worked with him and then got tortured with him by Russians. She eventually realises that he's way smarter in a practical sense than people give him credit for (he did raise himself since he was 11 or so) but does not think of it as stretching into the academic side of his life. She has not stopped calling him "dingus" though.

Eddie on the other hand knows better, which is why when a specific exam was coming up he turned to Steve.

He barged into the Harrington home a day when tye entire party was their.

"Stevie, you either have to tutor me or lend me your notes for this class. I am not failing this class and increasing the possibility of another year at fucking Hawkins."

Mike and Dustin burst out laughing at that before Steve can answer.

"I know you're e bad at that subject, but I didn't realise you were desperate enough to use Steve's notes," Dustin says with that condescending tone that means it should be obvious to Eddie.

Mike snorts at that derisively, "If he even has notes."

"Maybe," Lucas said diplomatically, "there are better options than using Steve's notes?"

Nancy steps up next offering some of her notes and flashcards since she took the class last year/is taking the class, "It's not my strongest subject but if we do a study group I'm sure you won't fail the class."

Eddie stares at the group with growing bewilderment as they agree that Nancy is the best choice while implying that Steve was not. Actually, they were acting as though he was dumb for even asking Steve, which made no sense to him.

Eddie turned his eyes to Steve. His posture by the kitchen island was much more different than when Eddie burst in. He had subtly curled into himself as if to make himself smaller, shoulders tense and a resignation on his face as if he's been through this conversation so many times before.

It was almost as if...

"You guys think that Steve is dumb, don't you?"

There was the type of silence that only comes when the quiet part is said outloud.

"No we don't think Steve's dumb," Robin begins and Eddie can hear the 'but' before she even said it, "But you know he wasn't good at the school part of school."

She continued to ramble on from there but Eddie did not hear any of it. He was too busy reevaluating the group he was with and rechecking old memories and facts to see if there was any inkling of truth to this strange idea that even the older teens should know isn't true.

It took him a moment to find the answer, and when he did he could not stop the derisive laugh that burst out and interrupted Robin's ramble.

"You guys fucking bought into the rumours, didn't you? I expect that from the kids maybe even Johnathan, maybe even Robin because of you became friends after he left school, but not from you, Nancy."

Nancy had that look on her face that she got when she was ready to argue but Eddie steamrolled over it.

"Jesus H Christ! Weren't y'all together for a whole fucking year? How do you not know that he was at the top of his year when you were together? Unless you dismissed that in favour of believing the rumours that his parents paid for his grades and the school wanted to make sure he kept on playing sports?"

He paused for a second waiting for someone to contradict him, but the look on Nancy's face was one of scrambling to defend herself. He sighed at that; she still wasn't getting it and it a sweeping look at the others proved they were lost too.

"Even if they paid off the school he would not have been in the top ten of his year, he would be like Carver and Hagan whose parents paid and their grades were just good enough to get into a decent college without too many questions. And they would not have kept on giving him high grades after he stopped doing any kind of sport in his last 2 years at that dump. Hell if Hargrove wasn't such a fucking beast at sports he would have been told he would have to repeat his senior year with me."

"It's okay Eddie; leave it go." He turned a fake sunny smile with his eyes tightly shut towards Eddie as if to pacify him.

Eddie turned to Steve who had yet to say anything throughout Eddie's diatribe up until that moment. He just continued to robotically make dinner for the party as though nothing was wrong, as though the hurt dripping off him didn't matter.

"I'm not letting this go! They had classes with you, some of which I'm pretty fucking sure were AP classes. If I had the attendance needed I would have graduated last year because of you, Stevie. So excuse me if I'm a bit annoyed that our friends are so blinded by a rumour that they can't fucking see your Salutatorian medal. Hanging. Right. There!"

All eyes except Eddie and Steve's turned in the direction that Eddie pointed at.

And there on the wall, was a framed silver medal with the word "Salutatorian" emblazoned on it. The party immediately burst into chaos amongst each other.

"Now, pretty boy, are you gonna tutor me or what?"

Or it goes something like that, I'm not sure.

[icallhimjoey]

Reinvent Love

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: You and Joe are treading new waters. You’re no longer flatmates, but still close. More than friends, but nothing defined. Nothing labeled. Determined to not lose what you have, though. But, can you?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, fluff, season 3 of my flatmate!joe

Author’s note: uh-oh here we GO! the girls voted and the girls won, so here we are! the no-longer-flatmates-flatmate fic - you don’t need to have read define close or explain us, but it’ll obviously give you backstory, which might help!

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five There was something living inside Joe’s chest.

It was only small, but definitely there. Ugly. Green. Growing. With potential to do real harm. It crawled around and scoped him out, exploring his heart from all different angles, carefully tasting it.

It hadn’t bitten him yet, but Joe knew if he lost sight of it – if he stopped trying to control it – that eventually, it would. And it would hurt. It didn’t exactly feel great now, but once it’d sink its teeth in, Joe knew he’d be done for.

He remembered when it still good. Still nice. Warm. And soft. And joyous, all full of love.

It used to be kind and sweet and would make him smile until his cheeks were quite literally cramping.

But it’d changed. It’d turned bad.

He wished he could’ve seen it coming.

It was a good thing that he found he was able to easily control it with rational thought. Problem was that rational thought had the habit of abandoning him once it got dark outside and he was alone in his flat.

His new flat.

Where everything was his.

Where everything got put in places that he chose. All his things were where he wanted them, all catering towards his routine. Which was why a basket of underwear made it into a bathroom cupboard, and why a shelf got put up near the balcony door, so he had a place to keep his cigarettes and a lighter. Gone were the days of rummaging through coat pockets ‘til he found what he was looking for.

It was sort of great, Joe wasn’t going to lie, living on his own.

It didn’t look quite as nice, not quite as homey, but Joe was sure he’d soon learn what the place was missing. He didn’t worry about it. There were more important things to worry about. Like, how quick dust built up into bunnies underneath the sofa and how every time he’d open his front door, it’d waft out from underneath, only to settle in the middle of the room for everyone to see. Or how somehow he panicked so much about keeping his plants alive that he was systematically overwatering all of them.

Idiot.

It was fine.

Rational thinking.

It was all fine.

Things were different now.

Good different.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Joe joked as he let you in, pointing out the large bouquet of flowers in your hands.

His place already smellt amazing. Joe made a good roast, and had one going now, things in the oven, bubbling and simmering away.

“If I never did things I shouldn’t do, life would be very boring,” you said, laying the colourful bunch down on his island.

“Did... wait, did you actually get those for me?”

“Have you got a vase?” you were already opening cabinet doors. “You don’t, do you?”

When you didn’t get a reply, you turned to see Joe stare at the flowers. He looked a little dumbfounded.

“Joe?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you and blinked a few times. “Oh, um...” he squeezed his eyes shut a second, trying to gather his thoughts.

Took too long, you thought.

“A vase?” you repeated, trying very hard to keep a straight face, to not let the smallest inkling of a smile slip through.

“Sorry, I don’t... I don’t think I’ve got a vase.”

Why the fuck would he own a vase, Joe thought.

“I’ll get you one as a housewarming gift,” you found a pitcher. “This’ll do for now.”

There was evidence on the counter of what Joe had been in the middle of, cutting veggies, preparing the gravy. But as you filled the pitcher with water, Joe still kind of hovered in the same spot in silence. Looked at the flowers that you’d brought in and felt silly for how those made him feel.

When you placed the pitcher in the middle of the island and reached for the bouquet, you broke his trance, and Joe softly laughed at himself.

“This is... my God, this is so sweet? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers before.”

“Well,” you smiled back, about to throw stones into your own windows. “I didn’t get them for you.”

“Oh?” Joe immediately felt embarrassed. Mortified. Felt the skin of his neck flush with heat.

“I got them for your flat.”

Got him.

Joe let out the breath he was holding in defeat, dropping his head and smiling. Scoffed softly at himself because you were joking, and he was an idiot.

“You know, give it some colour. Give me something nice to look at when I’m here.” you plopped the flowers into the pitcher and didn’t get the chance to make it look nice, to arrange it a little, because before you could, you got picked up by the waist and shaken about. You shriek-laughed a loud, “No!”

“Something nice to look at?” Joe pressed his face into your cheek as you squealed through your giggles.

“Am I not nice to look at, huh?” Joe squeezed extra tight before he put you down, turning you in his arms and keeping you real close.

“You’re nice to look at,” you said sweetly, still grinning widely, nose nudging up at his. “If I could put you in a vase and arrange you all nice, I would.”

Joe snorted, and you felt it on your face.

“Hmm. You’re funny.”

You got kissed by soft lips that almost felt shy to kiss you.

“Don’t get me a vase.”

And then you got kissed a little harder. Bit more firm.

“I’ll get my own.”

“No,” you objected, speaking right into his mouth. “You’ll get a stupid one with like, frosted writing on, or something. Live, love, laugh.”

You felt Joe’s smile as he kissed you harder, both arms squeezing as they wrapped around your waist tighter. You sighed into Joe’s affection and took great comfort in the fact that you were alone. You were outside of your flat, which was still wild in your opinion, but at least you were alone.

Alone was good.

Joe’d gotten into the habit of showing affection when you were around others, around strangers, and you didn’t think you were ever going to get used to it.

The first time Joe reached to hold your hand, you’d nearly had a panic attack.

It wasn’t very cold, but the wind was cutting. Hurt your forehead as you walked and made you hunch as you pulled up your shoulders to shield yourself as best you could. Joe’s hand finding yours was a welcome warmth for your cold fingers, but it still made you fall silent as you tensed up.

Joe just held on for a few steps, and looked at you. You could see him stare from your peripheral, could feel the burn of it high up in your cheeks, and tried your best to ignore it.

“You can relax.” Joe humorously said, speaking softly and leaning in a little to make sure you could hear him.

“I am relaxed.” You immediately argued, because holding hands with Joe shouldn’t be weird. It should actually be normal. You tangled up with your full bodies more days than you didn’t when you shared a flat. If anything, Joe’s touches were exactly what turned you lax, all floppy and boneless.

“S’just cold.”

“Hmm,” Joe sounded unsure, very obviously not believing you, and squeezed your fingers a couple of times. When you didn’t smile, Joe let his own drop too, and asked if you were okay.

“Fine.” You reassured, growing a little defensive. If Joe could just stop talking about it, that’d be great.

“Should I– do you want me to let go?”

“No, it’s okay.” You said, sounding a little squeaky, but you doubled down with a squeeze of your own.

Joe took it, accepted it, albeit a little unsure if maybe he’d made the wrong move here. But you’d walked along, and you held hands, and when you fell into random conversation again, holding your hand became something Joe stopped thinking about. He absentmindedly rubbed his thumb along yours, and at one point used his grasp to pull you in front of him when you had to share a narrow bit of pavement with oncomers.

You weren’t like Joe.

Not for a single second had you been able to be as casual about it as Joe had been.

You focussed on your hand the whole while you walked, and couldn’t help but check to see if others were looking at it. If strangers that passed you looked down at your hands. To check if they could see. If they somehow knew that you’d never done this before.

You had.

But not like this. Not outside. Not in public.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hold Joe’s hand, but there was something about this new phase you were in, where Joe walked over to yours to pick you up to go out for dinner together. Where he had to ring the doorbell and ask if he could quickly come up to use the toilet before you left. Where he pretended he didn’t know where the bathroom was and made you show him the way. Where he faked being anxious when you left your flat, saying that he hoped you liked the restaurant he booked a table at. Where he nervously asked if you liked Italian food, as if you hadn’t shared a million pizzas together.

Things were different now, and although you were close, would often do everything you could to dissolve into his skin, walking hand in hand through the streets of London felt insane. Like you were moving too fast, even though you understood how silly that sounded.

You’d spent that entire walk thinking of a natural reason to let go of his hand, and Joe had felt your fingers twitch. Felt how you seemed to change you mind about it every three seconds. But, you’d said he could hold onto you, so, he simply did.

It wasn’t until you reached the restaurant and used the heavy door as an excuse to wiggle your fingers from Joe’s hand, using both of yours to pull it open.

Baby steps, Joe thought as he smirked to himself, astonished that he’d gotten to hold your hand out in public for over ten minutes.

He was sure you’d slap him away the second he even attempted to intertwine your fingers together.

Which, coincidentally, was exactly what you did the first time Joe tried to lean in for a quick peck on the lips as you said goodbye to each other outside of his flat.

You’d been out, and were both in a bit of a rush to get home. You thought that the way you’d hugged his arm for a second was plenty goodbye. You’d pressed the side of your face to his bicep and said you’d see him later.

You’d reached the point where you wanted to go cross the street as Joe would walk the other way to get to his front door, and when you tried to step away, he yanked you right back by the elbow.

The way you recoiled away from him was so extreme, it startled Joe. You almost made it look like he was about to hit you.

“Jesus,” he mumbled under his breath, and you immediately apologised. You stepped back closer to him, were about to accept a quick kiss as an apology, but let your eyes nervously dart around to see if there were other people. If there were witnesses.

Joe just looked at you, blinked a few times and then, instead of leaning in for a quick kiss, squeezed you in your side.

“Calm down. Call me when you get home.”

And you’d blushed at how Joe’d smiled at you before he turned to head inside. Your face had remained hot until you got home where you then had to take a moment to shake all the nervous jitters from your body.

It was such a weird spot to be in, Joe thought.

How he couldn’t get too close if there was the slightest chance of someone seeing, but to have you literally whine at him inbetween his sheets if he didn’t touch you in the right spot with the right pressure at the right speed.

But steps were being made in the right direction.

You each had you own place now, and Joe made a point to sometimes not see you for a few days. He kind of enjoyed getting to miss you. He liked how his stomach did flips when you’d ring his doorbell after not having been over for a few days. He liked how absence made his heart grow fonder, and how that felt healthy.

Joe assumed you felt the same way; maybe you didn’t like it as much as he did, but surely you also understood how this was at least more normal.

He never thought that what the two of you were before was toxic.

It was just... weird.

Good weird.

But this was better.

Still a little weird, he wasn’t going to lie. But better.

He got to tell you to call him when you got home now. He got to invite you over to his flat for Sunday roast now. And you would then come and bring him flowers now.

Joe had never received flowers before. Well, maybe he had. But not like this. Not from a girl who brought them just for him. Just because. He kind of loved it. Kind of loved you.

“God, you were right.” Joe said, eyes unblinking, comfortably staring.

Both satisfied and full after an early dinner, the two of you laid out on Joe’s sofa - the one that took six weeks and then two more to arrive - and both looked at the bouquet up on the kitchen island. You were tucked into his side, with one of his arms slung around your frame. You held one of his hands with both of yours and absentmindedly played with his fingers.

 “I don’t know how this works but they kind of make the whole room look better.”

“They do.” You agreed, smiling, because you did that. You turned your head, tilting up to look at Joe’s face. “Please let me pick out a vase for you, though.”

Joe’s grin slowly grew as he said, “Absolutely not. Might just keep the pitcher for flowers only, I kind of like it.”

“Ugh,” you grimaced. “This is such a boy’s flat.”

“Well,” Joe started, raising his eyebrows, finally breaking eye-contact with the fresh bloom, tucking in his chin to look down at you. “I am a boy, so, that checks out.”

For a moment you just looked at each other, smiling, cuddled up into the corner like you always were cuddled up into the corner together. When you saw Joe flick his eyes down to your lips, you pulled the hand you were still holding closer to bite right into the skin between his index finger and thumb.

Joe pretended to flinch, but you were barely leaving marks as you smiled through the bite, big eyes looking up at him. Joe took a moment to just take you in. The way you looked at him had him biting his own lip before he tried to grab hold of one of your hands to pull into his mouth.

You were already scream-laughing and trying your best to pull your hand away before he even got close. It left you in a wrestling pile of limbs, Joe with his mouth open, growling and ready to bite at whatever got close enough. He ended up getting at bit of your sleeve in between his teeth, pinning you down into the soft seat-cushions and he felt drunk with joy.

He was so fucking happy.

Pretty girl in his flat, giggling away on his sofa, and she’d brought him flowers. It was kind of disgusting how he’d turned to goop on the inside.

Joe didn’t wait for your giggles to die out to get his lips on yours and kiss you silly.

There was something living inside Joe’s chest.

It was sticky and sugary sweet and Joe loved the taste it.

Loved how it bubbled over and leaked into his stomach.

Loved how it swirled into his limbs and made him reach for your hand to hold when you were walking outside.

Loved how it made him put his arm around your shoulders to pull you tightly into his side as you waited to get your coffees whilst the barista prepared them.

Loved how it grew as he took the lead on this new way of being together the way you had done before when you still lived together.

It made Joe want to introduce you to someone as his girlfriend, knowing full well that you hadn’t had that conversation yet, and that you’d likely have a melt down, but God.

It was just what he wanted to do, he couldn’t help it.

He wouldn’t.

There was a high probability that you’d actually murder him if he pulled a stunt like that.

The fact that you were kissing like this outside of your flat right now was already sort of stretching it, Joe knew.

You let Joe kiss you on his sofa for a minute. Let him slide his nose around yours with an open mouth that hovered over yours inbetween kisses. He made you work for it, having to lift up your head for more when he teased you for too long.

When you felt how Joe started readjusting his position on top of you, you knew you had to break it off.

“Hmm– Joe, no, I gotta–”

“Hm?”

“I gotta go, there’s– stop, there’s a potential flatmate coming over in a bit, I gotta– Joe!”

Joe finally broke away with an annoyed grumble leaving his throat as he did.

“Fine.”

“I can... I could always come back after?”

Joe shifted enough to let you escape the sofa.

“Hmm, you could, but I do have an early morning, so it’s probably not worth the trouble.” Joe sighed, lying back with an arm curled behind his head, watching you twist your clothes so it all sat right again.

“No?”

“I’ll probably be asleep by the time you make it back here.”

“Well,” you started, slinging your arms into your coat. “All depends on how long this is going to take. If it’s another 19-year-old trying to negotiate for a 30-70 rent split first thing, I’ll only be a second.”

“God, for your sake, I hope it’s not another student. But for my sake...” Joe made big eyes, giving you a suggestive look that broke into a smile when you laughed.

You gave Joe a last quick kiss as you bent over the sofa and told him you’d see him later, all casual.

Joe’s smile lingered as he watched you walk out.

“Call me when you get home!”

Yea... there was something living inside Joe’s chest.

And it was cuddly and fuzzy and comfortable and good...

For now.

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

[shivadh]

Also also, how much of the language do you have figured out at this point? I keep on wishing it was something I could learn, because tavat as a concept has me in a chokehold. Do you only have what you've used, or is there a secret word document with a dictionary and grammar rules being put together?

I've got a little tiny bit of grammar and some vocabulary, but that's about it, and the vocab is basically split between "made it up because it sounds fun" and "nicked it off nearby countries". Like Naran Juice Box Company is a Shivadh company, and they primarily used to sell orange juice so they use the Shivadh word for orange, "Naran", which has an obvious relationship to the Spanish word "Naranja". The football team takes after the "giallorossi" (yellow-reds) of Roma and call themselves the "Levenaran" (blue-oranges) but Leve is just made up because it fit well -- and of course if you are a member of the team you don't just support the levenaran, you are considered "Levenaranh".

Tavat was likewise made up to sound dramatic. :D At least as far as I recall. I wrote most of Infinite Jes on my phone while traveling, across about three weeks, and usually after going to bed, so my memories of composing it are remarkably hazy.

I will eventually actually have a public webpage with all the Shivadh language stuff on it, though. I'm building a wiki for the books which is mostly just needed by me so I'm not constantly looking up shit, and one page will be what is canonical about the Shivadh language.

I know some things; the big one is that the language uses suffixes frequently, so you'd modify a word by appending a suffix rather than using an adjective. The -h on the end of Shivadh to indicate nationality isn't used super commonly but it's meant to indicate origin, like it's basically "of" but where "of" denotes being from somewhere ("I am of Shivadlakia" but not "It's full of stars"). I just recently included -ic in the last short story as a diminutive, so when Michaelis says "tavatic" he's calling his grandson a sweet little prince. He wouldn't use "tavatic" for Joan or Noah, they're too old; when he calls Joan "mio Ioannina" he's speaking Italian, and using a diminutive that's more appropriate to her age.

In the football novel, the protagonist Paolo is often called Paodet, which is a nickname Gerald made up for him when they were younger. Paolo didn't get a ton of Shivadh language because he left the country for football reasons fairly young, but he knows -det means "beautiful" so he's Beautiful Paul, basically. What he's not really cognizant of for a while is that -det has a specific connotation of a thing, so he's beautiful like a statue, not like a person, because he was always a little standoffish.

And of course "Dy" is boat, which gets the general intensifier -chev added to make sure it's the boatiest. Which is also how we get "Ejechev", the equivalent of the Italian "Daje" or the English "Go team!"

But yeah, most of it's just nouns, so I'll have a list up eventually. :D I'm about a third of the way done with the wiki -- all the notes have been taken and sorted into various files, but now I need to turn "a bunch of copypasta notes from the books" into cohesive profile pages on, say, Shivadh culture, or Gerald Dux Shivadlakia, or the RSBC, or Institut Alpin. It's not difficult, just time consuming.

[perpetualexistence]

Izzy and Noah being nerds ft. a very confused Eva

With Izzy's high IQ and 1000 thoughts zooming through her head at light speed, she 100% strikes me as the type of girl who created a whole language just for fun. It sounds like complete gibberish, so when she's using it everyone just assumes it's Izzy being Izzy.

Noah's the first one who starts picking up on a pattern in her 'gibberish' and asks her about it. Izzy denies it because she thinks it's funnier if she does.

Noah knows she's lying. Izzy knows that Noah knows she's lying. Noah knows that Izzy knows that Noah knows she's lying. This is an endless loop of knowing. The point is, Noah is now convinced to call her out on this lie out of sheer spite.

He starts paying more attention. He starts reading books on linguistics. He has a journal with theories and what he's managed to translate so far.

Eva has to be the one to tell Noah to chill for once. Eva believes him because she believes Izzy would do something like that. He can stop. Noah would love to. But his pride and his intelligence have been insulted. He just can't.

Plus, despite all outward appearances, this is actually pretty fun for him. He doesn't get a lot of intellectual challenges. Izzy's also enjoying feeding him clues and being a little gremlin about this. And hearing him have little mental breakdowns such as 'Is she seriously using that monosyllable as both a prefix and suffix with different meanings?!'

Eventually Noah gets confident enough to respond to her when she says something in Izzy Language. She lights up like a Christmas tree and responds in kind. Next thing either of them knows they're carrying a full blown conversation.

Leaving Eva, who has been been standing there this whole time, to go:

Eventually they explain things to her. Eva doesn't really care to learn it herself but won't stop them from going off so long as they don't use it to leave her out of conversations.

She does pick up a few words though: Their names. Yes. No. Stop.

And every swear word.

Naturally.

[fuzzyspiderpawz]

Drew these a little while ago but I thought it’d be fun to finally post them anyway here’s my interpretation of all the bishops in their follower forms (i put them all in the regular cult member shirts but I think they’d actually wear something different)

Narinder

Has a bit of a love hate relationship with the lamb if you couldn’t tell (I’m a big fan of Narinder making cat noises) and also him and the lamb have an enemies to lovers arc FOR SURE. He takes out a lot of his anger by picking fights with other followers (ESPECIALLY his siblings) also takes on the role of executioner from time to time.

Leshy

Green worm man who causes problems on purpose and then falls in love with an orange/yellow cat👍 I also imagine he grows all sorts of different plants in his personal garden not just Camellia flowers.

Heket

my baby girl my queen my lovely frog wife whom I love she is the head chef but she also steals food from the kitchen aaaallllll the time. She gets very hungry very easily and also it’s her way of rebelling even if she can’t leave. She’s a surprisingly good cook. She can talk but barely and sometimes talking results in her coughing up blood so she’s learning sign language from another follower

Kallamar

He’s pretty pathetic tbh. He’s a good doctor but not super kind, he’d chastise and insult his patients a lot cause he’s still super upset and moody about what the lamb did. That is until followers started complaining to the lamb and the lamb intimidated him into behaving. Now he’s still moody and passive aggressive but less so, out of all his siblings he’s the most scared of the lamb. Can’t hear super well but he chooses not to listen most of the time anyway. Might also try learning sign language alongside Heket, as soon as they learn how they’d sign insults at each other until it devolves into a full on physical fight that the lamb has to break up.

Shamura

They actually get along very well with the lamb, they’ve made their peace with their fate and the fate of their siblings. Sometimes on rare occasions they will have long philosophical talks with the lamb. They did in fact ask to have an upper floor bedroom with a balcony for their house so they could be dramatic and brooding. They also adopted Webber as their child. Their friendship with the lamb might also be due to their very spotty memory.

The lamb gave all of them immortality necklaces they didn’t want to see them die again. Even if they weren’t gods anymore the lamb didn’t want to be the only one left who wore a godly crown. Most of the bishops are all still somewhat scared of the lamb. I imagine they eventually get used to them though.

[jpitha]

Whatever Happened to Lauren Ingram

This is a continuation of Voiding the Warranty. I thought I posted it here, but I guess I didn't.

"Who?" The human at the window barely looks up from her pad.

"Her name was - is - Lauren Ingram."

The person behind the counter at the embassy looks bored. She sighs. "Missing people cases are to be sent to the local station authorities."

"No, you don't understand, she's not missing, she's gone."

Over all this, Shimmer was getting much better at reading Human facial expressions. This civil servant was bored and annoyed. They had to be careful. One more snarky answer from her and she was going to close the window, and they would not be able to tell the embassy what happened to her. They tried another tack.

"I'm terribly sorry. Maybe there is an error with my translator, you know how they are with complex languages full of nuance, like yours. Lauren Ingram is a human I hired on to my ship - the Star Leaf - as an engineer first class. She was... tinkering with the FlashWarp engines and when she was finished and we warped, not only did we move through space nearly five thousand times faster than we expect but... she disappeared after." Shimmer breathed in shakily. This part was always the hardest to admit. "And I'm seemingly the only one who remembers her."

The woman behind the counter looks out at Shimmer and narrows her eyes. It appeared to Shimmer that she was reaching under her desk - "to push the window close button no doubt", they thought with despair - when instead a scanner pops out of a door above the window. Shimmer was bathed in a warm, yellow light for just a moment.

The door to the embassy hisses open.

The woman gestures, "This way please, sapient."

Shimmer was seated in a room. The walls were white, the ceiling was uniformly lit in white light. The floor was a slightly different shade of white. They sat upon a white chair - built for their frame surprising Shimmer - it was actually comfortable. After a moment, a human entered the room, dressed almost entirely in black. The contrast to the human and the room made them look like they had no color. They sat in a chair opposite Shimmer and took out a thick pad.

"From now on, this conversation is being recorded in full sensorium. All known and recordable senses are being recorded in this conversation so that in the future it can be replayed as completely as possible. State your consent."

"I consent."

The human relaxes slightly. "State your legal name."

"I am-" Shimmer makes a sound with a trilling rising melody "-but my name in Belanic is Shimmering Heat."

"Please describe what happened to Lauren as best as you can."

Shimmer took the next cycle demi explaining to the human what they saw and what happened. The Human had them stop multiple times for more detail, or to explain a part again. Eventually, they reached the story as far as Shimmer knew it.

"So you hired Lauren?"

"Yes, I was the one who signed her on."

"Do you remember her HIND number?" Her Human IdentificatioN Designation.

"Um" Shimmer had not been asked this before by the others when they were trying to find out what happened to Lauren. "7757890 I believe."

The human made an entry into his pad. It chirruped at him, and he narrows his eyes slightly. He sighs and looks up at Shimmer. "Sapient known in Belanic as Shimmering Heat, what you are about to learn is designated as 'Secret, Not To Be Shared'. This means that if we learn that someone else knows it, we will assume you spoke it - even if you didn't - and you will suffer the consequences for the data breach. At this point, you may refuse consent, and this conversation will end, and you are free to leave without learning what I am about to say. What say you?

Shimmer's eye membranes flicked. Unconsciously they turned their head slightly - an old instinct to try and get a better look at something in front of them - it was a gesture that meant consideration. "I can't sleep at night. I keep seeing her. I know she was real, I know she existed. Nobody else says she does. I feel like I am losing my grip on reality. I consent to learn. I will keep your secret."

The human smiles a small smile, folds their pad, and puts it away. He makes a complex gesture into the air and the room changes. The white even light was replaced with the spot and directed light of an office, the white walls become tan, and even art appears on the walls. He stands and holds out his hand. "My name is Agent Victor Henrik, Human InterDimensional Authority. I'm with HIDA"

Shimmer takes his hand and stands. Many of the sapients in the Coalition had their own forms of government and agencies and ministries within their government, but few had as many and as... granular as the humans. Shimmer didn't know HIDA, but had no problem believing they were a real human authority. "Nice to meet you Agent Henrik."

Victor smiled warmly. "Let's go to my office, we can talk there."

Victor leads Shimmer further into the offices, until they reached a door at the end of a long hall. When Victor opens the door for Shimmer, they gasp.

Agent Henrik had a window.

"You have a window!" Shimmer couldn't hide their surprise.

Victor beamed. "I do. It was completely by luck, I didn't do anything to earn it, this is just the office I was assigned." He sounded proud. "I have the only window in the whole embassy. Even the human ambassador doesn't have one."

Once Shimmer enters the office, they could see why the ambassador didn't take the room from Victor, it was cramped. Shimmer shuffles past boxes and sits on the only chair opposite Victor's desk. He also shuffles in sideways and sits down. "Sorry about how cramped the room is."

"It's all right. My quarters on Star Leaf aren't much larger," Shimmer lied.

"Okay. So Lauren."

"Agent Henrik. Am I going insane? Did Lauren exist?"

"Yes. She was real." He takes out his pad and glances at it again. "She died 12 years ago. Groundcar accident, according to the local police report."

"She what?" Shimmer's voice is an unbelieving whisper.

Victor holds up his hands. "That's how she died now. You are also correct that she was an engineer first class on Star Leaf."

"I don't understand."

Victor sighs and puts down the pad. "Shimmer, Lauren accidentally edited herself out of reality."

Shimmer's eye membranes flicked.

Victor raises his eyebrow but continues. "It's not the first time we came across this. She was messing with your FlashWarp engine right?"

Shimmer nods.

"And you were the last one to speak to her before you warped?"

Shimmer nods again.

"That's why you remember her and nobody else does. We're not sure about the science behind it - everyone who keeps experimenting gets edited out of reality - but there's something... unusual about FlashWarp technology. We don't use it much, but since humans sign on with Coalition ships all the time and humans are... well, human about things, humans have tinkered with it." He moves his shoulders in a shrug. "I have to say though, Lauren's work is the first successful mod to a FlashWarp field I've seen. Most of the others either did nothing, or destroyed the drive. Everyone disappeared after the drive was activated though and only the last person to talk to them before the warp remembers them."

"Why?"

Victor snorted a laugh. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be sitting here. Shimmer we have no idea."

Shimmer looks out of the window. It showed a crescent of the planet below, and while they were looking, they see the prismatic flash of a FlashWarp drive activating far in the distance. "How often has this happened?"

"That's Classified."

"Even though, right now we're discussing something 'Secret, Not To Be Shared'?"

"Classified is two levels higher in secrecy."

Shimmer leans forward. "Please. Give me a hint. Is it 10? is it 100? Is it 1000?"

Victor narrows his eyes. "This is all I will say. You explained to Polly - the girl at the front desk - what happened, and she immediately pushed a button summoning me. She wasn't disbelieving and she didn't think you were making something up. What does that tell you?"

Shimmer reels at the realization that if they reacted this quickly and not once accused Shimmer of making things up or misremembering that it happened quite a lot.

Victor looks at Shimmer's expression and nodded. "You understand then."

"What are you doing about it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing??"

Shimmer, what can we do? We can't tell all humans to stop messing with FlashWarp drives, it wouldn't do anything. What if we said "if you mess with a FlashWarp drive you might get edited out of reality"? Do you think that wouldn't cause some kind of economic crash at least? What would happen then? Everyone would dump their FlashWarp drives and buy our Flip drives. What would everyone think then?"

Shimmer understands what Victor was saying. If they came forward with this information, everyone would call it fake. A ploy to sell Flip drives.

"All we can do is record the incidents as they happen, and reassure those afflicted that you're not losing your mind. You have just a... unique memory. You clearly remember someone that doesn't exist."

Victor stands. "Shimmering Heat, I wish you the best. Do take care of your FlashWarp drive. It's unique. I recommend taking it back to Flash Incorporated and have them examine it. I imagine you'll get a bonus if it's determined to be safe enough to upgrade everyone's drive."

Shimmer stands and sputtered. "B-But, who will I say did the upgrade?"

Victor's eyes sparkles. "Just tell them the truth. A human did it."

[scekrex]

Could you write Adam x reader where they were rivals in Heaven for a few centuries (with an unspoken attraction), but then reader pissed off Sera and he was cast down into Hell. Adam freaks out and when he eventually learns what happened, he goes down into hell to look for the reader?

Okay so the beef/rivalry going on is band related, Reader is - just like Adam - a lead singer.

Part 2

A bloody nose and two bleeding hearts

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, canon typical violence

note: beta read by @drxgonspine

When you opened the door to the studio and spotted Adam and his band mates, something inside of you snapped. You felt your blood boiling, your hands clenched into fists and rage and anger grew in your stomach. What in the name of God was he doing there?

“What the fuck?” you exclaimed, causing the brunette to turn around to face you. The confused expression on his face turned into a smug grin the second his cocky golden eyes met yours. “Move your bitchy asses outta here right fucking now,” you yelled at Adam and his mates, putting your bass guitar down. The brunette across the room crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head as he did so. He was not seriously disagreeing with you right now, was he?

“Dude, what are you- oh,” one of your band mates walked up behind you, wondering why you were so loud, but once he spotted Adam he knew why. The first man and you weren’t exactly on good terms - actually scratch that because that’s an understatement. You hated his guts and he hated yours. It had been like this for what? Two hundred years? Yeah, something like that. He wasn’t fond of the fact that his band wasn’t the only popular rock band anymore and you disliked how he always acted all high and mighty just because God had created him first. It wasn’t even his achievement, if anything it was God’s place to be proud of creating Adam - but the first man’s ego was huge, way bigger than his body. He was so full of himself that he decided to block the studio you had booked for that day. Your band’s name was on the schedule, not his and yet it was Adam’s band who had made themselves at home.

“Nuh uh, bitch,” Adam disagreed. Your words didn’t seem to bother him much as he was checking his nails - or at least he pretended he did because that fucking idiot was wearing gloves, there were no fingernails visible to check.

You groaned in annoyance as you crossed the room and stopped right in front of the brunette. He was quite taller than you, that did not intimidate you though. You were putting up with his bullshit for so long, the taller male was not something you should fear. Especially because most of his treats were empty words.

He was the type of dog to bark the loudest but he would never bite.

Your index finger angrily tapped against his chest as you raised your voice, yelling loud enough for the other studios located in the building you and your band mates were to hear, “Who the fuck do you think you are? That’s our name on the fucking list, not yours.”

Adam looked down at you, amusement was written all over his face. And while he knew he would never admit it to you, he found your behavior kinda cute - a thing that scared him, if he was honest. Because you were not supposed to think of the guy who hated your guts as cute or handsome. And yet he could not help but like you.

“What’cha small ass gonna do about it? Kick us out?” the taller male asked provocatively. His hands came down onto your shoulders, patting the left one as he continued, “Try us, bitch.” And that earned Adam a punch in the face - and not a light one either.

Golden blood was dripping from his nose as he hissed in pain, stumbling backwards at the sudden and unexpected impact. But you weren’t done with him, not when he acted like the biggest fucking bitch in all of heaven. Adam wanted you to try him?

Sure.

That way he would finally get what he deserved. You grabbed him by his collar before he was able to move out of your range and pulled him down so that the both of you were eye to eye. “I’m gonna say it one more time. Pack your shit and move your ass out of the fucking studio that we reserved.” you hissed, feeling his hot breath hitting your face.

The brunette was breathing heavily, his eyes were narrowed when he looked at you. You felt like your feelings and emotions were on a rollercoaster, because guilt crept up inside of you. You had just hurt him physically, something that had never happened before. There had been arguments, there had been insults but never ever had there been physical damage. You slowly let go of his robe collar before you took a step back.

Adam reached out for you, trying to grab your arm to stop you from leaving but he was too slow. “We’re leaving,” you mumbled as you brushed past your band mates, leaving them behind with way too many questions. You also left a speechless Adam who was not sure what to think.

-

“Y/N,” Sera’s voice echoed through the courtroom. She looked down onto a sheet of paper and you were quite sure that this would not end well for you, not when Sera’s eyes were so cold, so empty, so emotionless. She put down the paper and looked at you as she continued, “The court has decided that we no longer tolerate you as a winner. Ever since your soul arrived in Heaven you have started to sin.” And the worst part of it all? She was right. You had been sinning, you were no better than the sinners rotting in hell. “Your problem with Adam got out of hand, you not only physically harmed him, you also showed that you are too prideful to apologize. You might think of yourself as someone mighty, but you are not,” Sera’s words hurt. Not because they were harsh, not because she was making you feel weak and vulnerable but because she was speaking the truth. You were embarrassed of yourself.

Shame crawled up your back.

“And that is why the court came to the decision that we can no longer guarantee a safe environment in heaven with you around. You shall be casted down to hell to live with those who sin.” Your eyes widened at the seraphim’s words, she was joking, right? “Sera wait-” but she was not hearing you out. Sera snapped her fingers and with that a portal opened and you were sucked into it.

-

“I just hope fucking Y/N won’t kill the fucking vibe,” Adam mumbled, his lips wrapped around the straw of his drink as he and Lute were heading to the festival ground. “Oh he won’t be able to, Sir,” Lute had a wicked grin on her lips as she shared that small information with the first man. “Wait,” the straw fell from his lips and he looked down at his lieutenant, “What do you mean?” The smaller white haired woman eyed the taller brunette out of the corner of her eye, pride was written all over her face as she spilled the tea of the latest news, “The angelic court decided to cast his soul down into hell. He sinned. He stained his soul. He is no longer worthy to live up in heaven, Sir.”

The first man dropped his milkshake, the cup fell to the ground and busted open, leaving a huge mess behind. Lute wanted to ask what was wrong but the brunette was already walking into the opposite direction.

“The fuck have you gotten yourself into now,” he hissed to himself, angry at you for getting yourself in serious trouble and angry at himself for not preventing it. If Adam were to describe his relationship to you, he’d say it was complicated. Because it was, wasn’t it? Hating a dude’s guts was hard to do, especially when you made his heart beat faster, his pulse rose and you were the reason for countless sleepless nights.

-

Hell was icky. The ground was disgusting and the people were worse than Adam.

Adam.

You would rather die over and over again than to admit it out loud but you missed that fuckhead, even though your fights with him were what caused you to end up in hell in the first place. But you missed him - and not just a little. Yes he was loud, annoying and constantly riling you up, but when he was close to you, you felt… safe. It was weird, especially because you two had never been friends, he had always been that shitty douchebag, always pushed you around. But you couldn’t ignore that your rivalry was fueled by more than just hate - there had been so many emotions and feelings involved you weren’t even able to list them all.

You sighed, hiding in the shadows would get you nowhere but exposing yourself to the greedy eyes of the sinners down there sounded like it would get you into even more trouble. Without really watching where you were heading to you rushed from alley to alley, trying to find a spot that provided the smallest bit of safety. That was until you slammed right into somebody way taller than you. You wanted to flinch away, wanted to bring as much distance between you and the stranger as possible. But the taller male wrapped his arms around you tightly, leaving no room for you to get away from him.

“Fuck, I was looking for your damn ass for fucking ages,” the voice coming from the taller man holding you sounded familiar - a little too familiar. And when you looked up you realized why. That guy was not a stranger trying to kidnap a fallen angel, it was Adam. What the fuck was he doing in hell? And why had he been looking for you? Questions over questions formed inside your mind and just as you opened your mouth to speak, the brunette interrupted you, “Move your wings, we’re going home bitch.” What?

“Now hurry the fuck up, shithead, I don’t wanna spend all of eternity down here,” he hissed, grabbing you by your wrist but you did not move an inch, not when he tried to pull you with him.

“I’m not allowed,” you said dryly. Why did Adam care in the first place? That was his opportunity to get rid of you for the rest of eternity. There would be no second rock band anymore, he wouldn’t have to share the studio his band’s recording at anymore and could live a chill afterlife without picking fights with you.

He turned around looking you dead in the eyes, “I don’t give a single shit. I’m not leaving you in this dumpster fire and I sure as fuck won’t keep you company here so you’re coming back to heaven with me. Right fucking now.” You slapped the hand that was holding your wrist, causing the first man to let go of you.

“Why do you care? Take your fancy ass back to heaven and leave me be,” there was no fire in your voice, not like it used to. There was not enough energy left inside of you to fight with Adam, not when you had to worry about so fucking much.

“No,” Adam sounded so determined, so confident. “Who the fuck am I supposted to pick fights with? Who will randomly kick the studio door open while my dudes and I practice? Who will punch me in the fucking face just to prove a point? Who am I gonna stare at when he performs live?” Adam inhaled deeply, the first man closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts before me whispered, “Who will make me stay up at night because they don’t fucking love me back if not you?”

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.1

I thank my lucky stars every night that Yoko eventually got sick of playing secret-keeper.

Paul: I didn't leave the Beatles. The Beatles have left the Beatles . . . John said he wanted a divorce. Alright, so do I. See how they say “Beatles” and they mean each other sometimes?

Derek Taylor on John's position on the break-up: if Paul were to approach him and say “let's do it together again” he probably would; with no more words, he would probably do it. Which is an insane claim to make to a world full of people grieving the greatest band to ever exist unless you are very very sure of that probability. But if it's true that that's all it would have taken, and Paul didn't do it? That hurts my head a little. Do we think he was just hurt too bad to want it back? Do we think he didn't know he had that kind of power? Do we think he was glad to be free of the group?

Ugh my heart can't take it. I'd cry too, John, watching that. I mean look at how they are looking at each other. Look at everything they've lost in a year. I'd bawl like a baby too.

Paul sends John a long, thorough letter, begging for them to legally end their partnership outside of a court. John's run out of cards at this point, but he still doesn't want to lose Paul, so he's just going to play dumb.

This is how bad he doesn't want to lose him, actually: he goes along with Klein in tricking Paul this time. Calls him up and asks him to come to the studio for a jam session, because it'll hurt his case in court. But for multiple reasons – the Eastmans were knowledgeable lawyers, and Paul might not have even wanted to be in a room with John at the time anyway – Paul doesn't come. Which John would've been hurt and angry over, no matter his motives.

"They tell you to stop crying at about age twelve. Be a man. What the hell's that?" I'm so proud of John for his (albeit long and backsliding) journey out of his toxic masculinity and violence. Something I honestly don't see him achieving without Yoko.

And from that quote it transitions to Paul in Scotland, looking like the embodiment of depression, as the opening of “Isolation” plays. It's perfect.

“And don't try to come over here. Or you might get in some trouble.” The way he just froze when he saw them filming him and then the next thing we see is him threatening them? Get ‘em, babe!

John sounds so giddy about this one-upping competition with Paul. I'll scare him and then he'll scare me!

The whole Lennon Remembers era is such a terrible case of diarrhea of the mouth in general, but the amount of homophobic language is quite striking compared to how John talked before and after.

John, talking about George in Rolling Stone: "he was working with two fucking brilliant songwriters and he learned a lot from us." People read that quote and just parrot it like they do with everything John said in this period and act like George had nothing to be angry over. He had every right to be much angrier and hold a much bigger grudge than he did.

And about George's new record, which was phenomenal and brilliant, John is transparently jealous and so cruel. If he'd said that about me and then asked me to play on his new record I'd tell him to go to hell. Why did George do it?

See and everyone who knows John knows how much he loved Brian and to hear him speaking so crassly and cruelly about Brian must've been a sure indication to them to just take the entire interview through that lense of “oh he's just saying shit”. But that's only the people who knew him. Everyone else for the rest of time took this shit as constitutional. And it pisses me off. It should be locked away in a vault somewhere and no one is allowed to listen to it until they've passed some kind of Beatles and emotional intelligence tests.

This crushes my soul. How warped must his definition of love have been by that point that he genuinely believed Phil Spector and Allen Klein loved him more than Paul and George did? It's bonkers.

John in 1967: all you need is love! John in 1971: the point of life is to manipulate people. . . . What the hell happened to you, buddy?

I go back and forth as to who's the smarter PR person: John or Yoko? Because maybe she's right. Maybe they shouldn't divulge that they're master manipulators. But is this one of those times when it's good to be all “look how honest we are about this! We're not hiding anything! We're saying bad things about ourselves too! So you should believe us about everything else!”

Really this documentarian should be hired to make all the music videos for all the Beatles and solo songs. This one for “Too Many People” is perfect. Paul walking into court with a full beard and a confident stride, John and Yoko in bed, Paul horse riding overlayed on Linda's gorgeous face like she's some goddess, designing his fate. All of it is just pure brilliance.

I'm forever laughing at just the title of the song, too. Because to John and Yoko it was so important that they were Weird and Off-putting. Different. Revolutionary. And to say “no. You're not special. There's actually an excess of people like you.” Is so funny to me.

“When she wants an A side, that's when we start fighting.” Oh gosh. Remember how I said he backslides a lot in his feminism journey? Yeah…

Insanity quote Hall of Fame. Yeah, I know he meant to say it's weird to be best friends with a woman. But it sounds like he's saying it's weird to fuck a woman. Which maybe he subconsciously means both idk.

Paul: we need to legally dissolve the partnership because it's the only way we're attached anymore. Ouch. Okay it's true. It's deserved. But that must've stung for the guy who was terrified of losing people. Must've sent him into fight or flight.

I think the point of this framing is to say that if they'd had facetime back then, instead of just crackly phone lines, HDYS would not have been written. Not with those puppy eyes staring him down like that.

Interviewer: the song wasn't even funny though. John: well I think it's hilarious. Interviewer: hmm. Lol I love hearing interviewers talk to John about his lyrics like he's a real guy doing a real job, though. Imagine a music critic now saying John Lennon wasn't clever in his lyrics. You can't, yeah. Me either.

What a slap in the face to Cynthia. Guess she wasn't Cool Girl enough. Should've gone girled him. That would be an excellent fic. Cyn and Jane gone girl their idiot bfs and John and Paul realize they're in love on death row. But anyway, yeah. If Paul would've just pet John's head . . .

Another absolutely bonkers thing to say. That's something the Rockstar’s ex wife says in a documentary ten years after he's dead, not something a songwriting partner says, completely unprompted, in an exiting the band interview.

And then he goes off on what I see as a self-soothing diatribe on Paul the family man. You can see the hoops he jumped through to get himself there. What did Paul want that I couldn't give him? A family. And is that justified? Absolutely not, only pussies and conservatives want families.

Allan Klein: were you and Paul ever really close, then? John: no. John: not that I didn't love him. I did. It's just that every time I let my guard down, he hurt me. Holy shit. At this point, after getting hit in the face with so much of John's Paul-made pain with nothing from the other side but pictures of the happy McCartney family, I'm genuinely feeling quite angry at Paul. Me. An extremely biased Paul girl who knows it's far more complicated and multi-dimensional than this. No wonder the uninformed public fucking hated his guts.

And as they're showing this quote, “I didn't want to hurt you,” plays mournfully in the background. They really are so twisted up in each other there's no separating individual identities.

Okay so he's a psychopath. So what? He's the sexiest man that ever was or ever will be. He's allowed to be a horrible person. No, but really. He's Get Back Paul but healthier. He's done with his depression drinking and he's been spending a lot of time proving he's still useful enough to exist by building fences and shearing sheep.

And this is how Paul talks about George to interviews. John said Klein made ATMP a success but Paul disagrees. "George recorded it all, wrote it all, did it all, wasn't anything to do with [Klein]. It was George's victory, wasn't it?" Compare that to how John does it and tell me again why the hell George is Team John?

What is Paul's obsession with daddies? Actually I know exactly what the obsession with daddies comes from, but we won't get into that here. I do find it interesting that in ‘69 he's saying “we do need a sort of central daddy figure.” And in ‘71 he's deriding John needing one and won't let John's daddy of choice touch him with a hundred foot pole.

I tend to think Paul chafes against authority in general, but that's actually not right. He never had a problem with George Martin. I think it's just abusive authority or authority he doesn't trust yet.