#aga: word to the wise

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝙰 𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

Pairings: Claudio Castagnoli x Fem!Reader

Warnings: +18, smut, shower sex, public sex

Tags: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

The shower curtain stuck to your body depending on how you moved, the fog inside the bathroom was thick enough to cover the tiles and mirrors. The humidity of the air transformed a chilly, winter night into a warm, cozy evening. The shower tiles, now warmed by the hot water, rested against your back, the slickness helping your back glide up and down the wall.

Claudio’s grunts rumbled in your ear, his stubble scratching the sensitive skin of your neck “Fuck, biberli. Yes, just like that, squeeze my cock like that, baby”

Your nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders, marking his skin with half-moon shapes, and feeling the toned muscles hardening with every deep thrust you sighed in pleasure.

Your lips murmured on top of his “Shit” at the burning feeling of his shaft stretching your walls. Your groin muscles flamed from being spread open too long, it was a sweet torture, the tip of his cock hit your cervix, his pubic hair tickled your clit, and both of his arms were hooked underneath your thighs to spread your legs as far as he could, his stubble scratched your oversensitive skin, his tongue and lips teased your sensitive points.

“So good for me” Claudio praised “Taking every inch so fucking well. Fuck, how I missed this tight little pussy milking my cock”

A small whine escaped your lips before the bathroom door suddenly busted open.

“Fuck, you’re still in the shower? You’re gonna use all of the hot water, man!” Mox complained, stopping by the sink to trim his beard and brush his teeth.

Your eyes widened and Claudio’s hand quickly covered your lips, he placed his index finger on top of his lips in a ‘shh’ motion before he asked “You’re gonna stay in here?”

“Yeah, why? Are you feeling shy?” Mox teased “I was going to use the other bathroom but Bryan just took a dump there and fuck, not even lighting up a match is doing the trick! Shit, I tell you, I don’t know what it is that those vegan folks eat but damn they’re fucking foul! Rotten motherfucker”.

Claudio’s hips began to move once again, and you quickly shook your head as a sign for him to stop. His only response was to smirk as he placed his thumb on your clit, the added pressure on your bundle of nerves had your eyes semi-closing in pure bliss.

His thrusts were slow but deep, reaching parts of your being you were yet unfamiliar with. Outside the shower curtain, Moxley continued a small talk about the upcoming week and the plans they had work-wise, his voice was distant as if he was speaking through a tunnel, and you could only pick up random words here and there. Adrenaline rushed through your veins, pumping blood through your system at a speed similar to a bullet train, your skin was oversensitive, and your body was hyperalert, paying attention to the smallest sign of movement on the other side of the cream-colored plastic curtain.

Claudio’s scruff rubbed against your burning cheeks, and his whispering voice rumbled in your ear soon after Mox turned on the electric razor. “Remember to be quiet, bibi. We don’t want to get caught now, do we?” His chuckle reverberated in his chest, slowly drumming in his sternum but being muffled by the water and buzzing sound of the razor. A particularly deep thrust made you gasp softly against the skin of his neck, Claudio’s sharp grip on your wet hair was what made you pull your head away from the crook of his neck.

Claudio’s hand came to rest upon your mouth, covering your lips as he pressed you tighter against the shower wall, “I told you to shut the fuck up!” He muttered against the back of his hand, positioning his body so that his pelvic bone brushed on your bundle of nerves every time he thrust forward.

“My sweet biberli” He whispered “You’re gonna be a good, obedient girl and keep that pretty little mouth shut because I don’t plan on stopping fucking you anytime soon”.

[sumerianlanguage]

Hi! I once asked you a question and I absolutely loved your answer, so I am coming once again to you for some advice. Is there a word in cuneiform for loyalty/devotion? Or some line from a text/poem of this? I've found that this is a beautiful subject through human history, but I can't find anything about it with the (little) knowledge I have. Thank you so much!

Hello! The basic word in Sumerian I know for "loyal" is zid 𒍣, the same word as "proper, accurate, right". It's used, for example, in the Lament for Sumer and Urim: Enlille e-zid gulgullude, lu-zid turrede... "Enlil, in order to destroy the loyal households, in order to decimate the loyal men..." A more positive quote might be from Išme-Dagan X: Ngidru shumshum, aga-zid halla, mumahbi sasa "He assigns the scepters, and distributes the loyal crowns, and announces their exalted names."

The other term is shudimma 𒋗𒉽𒉽𒈠 "loyal, prudent", from the phrasal verb shu dim "to be loyal, be subservient" - specifically loyalty by a lesser person to a greater person. This is what appears, for example, in the proverb Nirngal kugzuam, ukur shu dimmam, shu ngar ngalla Arattaka "When the authorities are wise, and the poor are loyal, it is the effect of the blessing of Aratta." I wouldn't use shudimma for, say, loyalty to one's friend, spouse, or other equal, however.

As for "devotion, devoted", etc. all the examples I can find are just alternate translations of clearer terms. For example, this proverb includes dumu Utu kuggakam "a devotee of Utu is among the holy", but dumu "devotee" actually just means "child".

I hope one or more of these are helpful to you!

[firstprince-ao3feed]

Emergency Response

by mosscoveredfae Someone very wise (King Casey) once said that Henry could top in an emergency. And Henry is certain his boyfriend in a slutty firefighter costume definitely qualifies. Happy Halloween, enjoy the costume silliness. - This was born of a conversation with my darling @caressthosecheekbones. So thank you very much for the idea. Aga, Leika, Alex, M, Mads, Chloe, as always thanks for listening to my ramblings and giving me more ideas as I went along. Words: 6472, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Gay Disaster Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Halloween Costumes, Halloween Silliness, Established Relationship, Bottom Alex Claremont-Diaz, Restraints, Light Bondage, Bondage, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Overstimulation, Lingerie, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot via https://ift.tt/o6E89hZ

[aquicat]

The Trials of Mathurine (Les Essais de Mathurine Modern English Translation)

For more information of Mathurine de vallois please check the wiki.

In short, Mathurine was a court jester of France in the 1600s, she foiled an assassin, gave no fucks, and spend her free time writing hilarious political satire, apparently. So, without further ado, this is my translation of (what is thought to be) her writing:

When I consider my life, I find it seasoned with many useful moments. Albeit, the little children squark: “Aga! Mad Mathurine!” at me as I pass through the streets. They are right: It is true that I’m tainted by this disease: my senses can be rancid and my imagination becomes mouldy and dislocated. This came to me from a rifle shot I received to the head at a ballet of Caresme-prenant. Baste! 

Even if I am mad, there is one occasion I was able to seize so bravely that I am reminded of it more every year in the form of twenty and thirteen jacobus of rent, without counting the trick of the stick.

There are those who believe they are made of cloth, and there are also ‘clever people’ who are more foolish than I am a beast by half past seven. Consider (if you please) that I spend my time with cheer and without melancholy. If something turns me to boredom, I simply visit my good friend, who makes me eat his hissope [fragrant] soup - that’s as fat and bacon yellow as golden thread; and in the end I can fall back on my lecherous shield: “Until goodbye, Mathurine.” However, I am always ready for commands in the service of gallant men, whether in peace or war, at all hours. The armour of my costume is always in good condition as I often have it polished. This is with a whimple made for the occasion, as there are furred parts at the front.

By Jove! Tabarin makes more profit from two or three buffoonish questions, shitty riddles, or silly jokes than his master does with his holy, disease curing remedies because the world wants nothing more than to banter. [Quack doctors often had clowns travel with them, Tabarin is one such, and a famous one, I believe] So he ends with slapstick, so that people will remember him and want to return. 

The wisdom of this world is madness before God, which makes me hopeful that (in this country) I will be rewarded for double food, for I am doubly mad! If all the madmen and madwomen in Paris  wore cruppers, many would be walking around with their ass skinned, for there are all sorts of madmen, of all ages, qualities and sexes. But they are mad in the fashion that trots, and, as Master Guillame says:

Some are mad and others strange

As marvellous as beautiful angels

Brand new descended from heaven

And those are glorious madmen

There are qualities which are farce and serious; they carry proud arrogance. You would think, by the air pursing their lips like a new bride, that they were Socrates himself! Therefore, about this kind of madmen, Master Guillaume says: According to our good devout doctors, we call them wise fools.

And of course, they find nothing well done if they have not done it themselves. Lord give me faith if they noticed someone on someone. They’d set us to leaf through all the approaches of Aretinus father than find fault with theirs; perhaps they would like to inform against them, claiming that this one is not in fashion yet this one is. I am weary for this list of reproaches! Good people, we create in all fashions, and we have already achieved this quite well as there are more than fourteen jubilees. You other readers, have you heard of a certain jumble of pamphlets called ‘the Caquet de l’Accouchee? Doubtlessly you have, for more copies have been sold than of the familiar epistles, or oration of the saints.

A certain person presented me with a copy the other day, and reading it greatly heated me. Judging by the temper in its words, I immediately saw that it was written by another malcontent, who was above plundering no lip. These people have no wit to conduct themselves, and would wish to be given the world in their palm. It is pure ambition to envision oneself as one day canonized by Master Pierre du Coignet. But the chapter on Notre-Dame is full of the reformation of the priests who sing about the defeat of the Huguenots and death of the Grand Turk in the taverns. I’m sure you know well that the narrator of the Caquet is a fashionable fool. He says that he has been ill at the beginning of his litany - no doctor can tell, but he is in grave danger of death as he no longer knows what he is saying.

Whoever plays the chatterbox did not have a good influence on him, and he boasts about his heritage just as he does his mind. I think he may have gnawed, like a viper, at his mother’s stomach to get out had he not found the plughole at the base of the womb. Maybe she made him kiss her ass as he passed (which he found dirty at the time) and this is the reason he wants to take the whole female sex in his pocket? I heard Pierre Dupuy claim he is the bastard son of a Pasquin, yet I know nothing of him other than that he is known for his caquet and that he is considered the brother of Merlin of England. Notice, ladies, how he flirts about the street women, old young, puny, qualified, public and of all conditions who have not thought on his flirting any more than I have of being a soldier of Babylon.

Do you notice that he is like the monkey who pulls chestnuts out of the fire with the paw of the greyhound? I perceive that he would like all woman to be an echo of his stupidity, and charlantary the subject of his state reforms. For less than a hundred crowns, I will tell you some reasons.

For the first item, let us begin with the Isle du Palais [a prison on an island]. His curiosity made him approach Tabarin: “Are you ill?” Tabarin said. “Yes,” replied the chatterbox, “but my illness is not contagious, it is but of the mind.”

“I addressed myself to you with credit from your master, who is thought to know marvellous, marvellous things. And he was never stingy with his knowledge. You can look about whatever you want. But I will provide what you desire, I am no less a scholar than he,” he said boldly. “I would like, honest lord,” he said bravely, “if your benevolence obliges, to learn your means of telling the virginity, or lack of, of a girl. Because, besides avoiding being a cuckold, it would benefit me among company.”

Then Tabarin replied, “is that all? I will satisfy that desire - one must know these things before loving. Go to Cormier’s and have dinner prepared, and we will get better acquainted. In the mean time, I will ponder my most exquisite secrets, and will return to you in an hour.”

“I will wait for you there,” said the chatterbox.

“I will go and find you,” said Tabarin, “have the wine put to cool.” Both made it to the place, and dined deeply.

After dinner, Tabarin said, “sir, these are not day to day questions of the chaffaut. Moreover, all work requires pay, as I’m sure you know.”

“I know it well,” said the curious one, “so I beg you to put this couple of pistoles in your pocket.”

“Good,” said Tabarin, “listen… when you wish to know the virginity of a girl, put one of your hands on her cunt - do you hear me well? Then, at the same time, blow into her ass. If you feel the wind on your hand, she is undoubtedly pierced. And there, that’s for your money. Farewell, sir.”

It is one of Tabarin’s old tricks, which turned the man green again. And so the laughter remained refined. Nevertheless, he vowed to have revenge on the jester and affronter. That is one reason he is angry at women. 

The second reason is that (by Saint Barbara!) no one has cared to listen to him, or to make a point of his flirting except for an old picardy woman, who was going to shout the mustard. Still he could not enjoy it.

Also, it is a very empty defence. Jan Vouaire, though they say I am ugly and mad, I would not have lent him my ass to kiss. [some joke about Saint Fiacre that is beyond my translation capabilities]. Necessity has dragged him so low that he has made a profession of lending money, and was forced to approach all sorts of women of a fine sort, which he has now exchanged in the office of a pimp. You should have seen him going door to door like the pig of saint anthony! He asked the ladies authority, the damsels for courtesy, the presidents and mistresses of requests, counsellors, favours; to the lawyers council, to the clerks coppies, to the procurators care, to the clergywomen writing, to the solicitors diligence, to the financiers money, to the bourgeois lodging, to the merchants estoffs, to the bakers foüace, to the roasters flesh, to the tavern keepers wine, to the chambermaids service, to the artisans credit: on which was founded the strongest of all his hopes. But knowing himself doomed, he drank as if he were castrated…

Further, having introduced himself to an old woodswoman who’s got the reputation of having experience and knowing deep secrets of nature, who can tell you a good story property and finely draws the coin from the hands of the daft ones like him. Now he found himself lovesick to the third degree and resolved to seek help in this old woman and a pitiful place full of mortal sins, where he fell for almost the same trick that Tabarin had played on him. Upon entering, he greeted this nymph of Pluto, “my gossip, is it not obvious, from my face, that I am ill?”

“Yes,” she said, “I have a remedy for everything, except death. What is your illness? There are several. It’s not the plague, at least?"

“No,” he said.

“Well!” she said, “is there not a problem with the head, stomach, arms legs and all else?”

“No, my illness is worse than all that,” he said.

“I wish to withdraw from you,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “it is not contagious. How to say… it is a woman’s illness.”

“Is it,” she said, “an illness of the womb?”

“No,” he said, “I mean the illness is caused by women.”

“I see, so be it,” she said, “well, there are chancres, colts, pisse-chaude, pox, crystaline and other types too. What kind is your disease?”

“None of those, none of those,” he said, “no, the evil that works on me is love-sickness.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” cried the Adade, “have courage! You will not die from it, and I’m the expert on that. Why, you have found the shoes to fit your foot: there is no one in the world quite like me; ready for anything, like a minister’s chambermaid, expert in the woman’s trade. I know how to erase freckles and wrinkles from the face; I make talcum oil to perfection, I know how to make a joint tighten so that a runner might be taken for a virgin.” In short, she showed him a multi tiered box full of ointments, on the lid of which was written:

The medicine here

Is good for curing urine

And for taming thrushes,

Mares cure farcin;

It makes many thefts,

It makes rebirths sing,

It makes young ladies crave love.

“Now… what you seek is another item. Let us speak softly… I have brought a certain little root from Egypt which will make you loved by the virgins. Is that not what you seek?”

“That is it,” said the man, “it would bring me great happiness if, by your means, I could experience this science and achieve my dreams!”

“You want to know, don’t you sir?” replied the woman, “I honour the archbishops; I do not walk in front of the cross.”

“So I understand, my friend,” said the chatterbox.

 Now, here is something to laugh at. “Yawn, sir: which one do you want? Tell me her name, and I will just force her to come and sleep with you.”

Our man, half ecstatic and rubbing his arms, names the woman to her. She begins to plot to take one of her comrades, hideous, deformed and capable of killing a delicate person, to his bed. He had his way with her, then, the next day (wanting to look upon his beautiful subject in the daylight) he was overcome with fear and shame, believing that it was Prosperpine.

He wanted to flee, but she followed him saying, “Pay me! Dear Lord! Is this how you thank the world after you’ve used it?”

And three!

Also, near the same time, the doctor promised him a certain drug to make him robust in the game of love. In effect, his prescription was sent to an apothecary, who made a grave mistake; for instead of giving him the correct medicine, he was given one ordered for one Franciscan for the purpose of releasing his belly. This was also given to his father-in-law, and they both found themself very astonished when the time of the medicine came. And, not knowing who to blame for his misfortune, our man raised his shield.

My mind turns when I think of this business, and I will go completely mad if he is not chastised like a true villain. Sus! Sus! Let every woman smear his face with cow dung! Let every girl spit on his moustache! And let them all curse him so many times that he can only defecate which whips and run from a beast the rest of his life! He is a villain, and knows not one secret of women: we are too wise as to babble in the way he says we do, not one of us is so foolish (if she had let the cat go to the cheese) to speak of it to even her closest confidant. Together, we keep this oath quiet; there is no young girl who would not rather do it twenty times than speak of it once. 

It would satisfy you to know that I have discovered the subject of the Chatterbox’s discontent: It was consulting and old Sibyl, whose tripod now serves to support my piss pot.

This makes me seem, when I want to, wiser than thirty-five Diogenes’ [philosopher]. Until goodbye! I cannot talk any longer on this; especially as Count Mansfeld [commander in reformation war] makes me lose my chatter. We must disperse all this chatter and leisure that influence this drunkard to hoax the women he drags around, for fear he will come to prevent the continuation of work in the hostel of my good friend - eat our melons and drink our wine. I will find out if he hasn’t returned from his trip to Notre Dame, and I will send you word by this same messenger.

Sanita et Guadaigne.

Read french the original here.

This was done with the help of google translate, though almost every sentence had to be re written, as (shocker) shoving middle french into a modern french translator does not tend to go very well!

[unluckyetymology]

Lucky

Prepared by tumblr user unluckyetymology. For tumblr user unluckyetymology.

The word “lucky” was formed within English, derived from luck plus -y. You’ll forgive me not citing this information, since this memo is casual and I consider my previous point obvious.

Luck seems to have come from Middle Dutch luc (which went on to become modern Dutch luk, although OED says that’s now fairly rare). One will note that Middle Low German lücke, another Germanic language, is an etymon but came later than luk. Within Middle Dutch and Middle Low German, there are cognates with prefixes gelucke and gelücke respectively.[1] There’s actually a bit of controversy surrounding the Proto-Germanic ancestor for these words, and of course no one knows what the proto-IE origin might’ve been. (I saw on Wikipedia mention of a relation to lock, but I wouldn’t cite that or recommend anyone go check out the article or put it in the footnotes[2] or take it seriously here on my very, very formal academic research memo. Never.)

So, based on absolutely nothing, meaning-wise I think there’s a possible relation to the word “lock.” Luck as meaning “good fortune” and lock as in “a thing that is decided, closed” might have some connection to do with fate… Found a German site that has it as a loan word from French’s destinée, with some connection to German’s luk-a- as meaning “conclude, decide.” Then the site does some speculation regarding fortune seekers and draws a line between the roots for destinée and luk-a- through Glucksritter then ritter then French adventurier.[3] I find this to be questionable, but it’s interesting

The -y suffix is, of course, Germanic. How embarrassing that would be if we thought it might have Latin roots, like it’s close cousins -ee and -ncy. No, that shall not do for such geniuses as us.[4] The rustic -y originates from the Germanic -iga- and -aga-, which became the old English -ig, then Middle English, then modern English’s -y. One will note that the original -iga/-aga came from Indo-European -qo, making our provincial little suffix something of a cousin to Latin, which took -cu from Indo-European. Hah.[5]

If the urge ever strikes, I may do more on -y. Its etymological relatives appear in quite a few other languages. Good way to kill a rainy day.

Usage-wise, -y is one of our most prolific suffixes. Old English words from the Middle Ages are still used today (i.e. dusty and snowy from dústig[6] and snáwig[7]). We were hella productive in the 14th century—surely you’ve heard such Middle English words as angry, bushy, and naughty. Nowadays word formation with -y is much less interesting and, frankly, trivial. I do not care about the word “hammy” or “mousy.”[8]

Note that the etymology and usage history given here is specifically for -y meaning “having the quality of,” not -y like “thing that is loved” (deary, doggy, etc).

[1] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “luck (n.), Etymology,” September 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/3877387018.

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luck

[3] https://www.wissen.de/wortherkunft/glueck

[4] Sadler, J. D. “Latin-English Hybrids.” The Classical Journal 67, no. 3 (1972): 258–62. http://www.jstor.org/stable/3296601.

[5] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “-y (suffix1), Etymology,” March 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1144199542.

[6] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “dusty (adj.),” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/5748607475.

[7] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “snowy (adj.), sense 1,” June 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/2176602471.

[8] Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “-y (suffix1),” March 2024, https://doi.org/10.1093/OED/1419454720.

[stusbunker]

AGA: Word to the Wise

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Denny AU Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, past Dean/Jo

Other characters: Sam, Bobby, Cas, Mick, Ash, Jo

Word Count: 3000 (whoa)

A/N: Sam gets on Dean’s nerves and Dean ends up taking a late night detour. Big talks ahead.

Special thanks to my beta @cracksinthewalls​ who puts up with my whiny ass. Also grateful for @there-must-be-a-lock​‘s insight.

The bowling league was in lean attendance due to a surprise snowstorm, but that didn’t keep Singers’ Slingers from mopping the floor with their competition. Dean ended on a spare in the last game, putting him just over his average for the night. State bowling wasn’t until spring, but if they kept up their momentum Dean was sure they could place well. And a weekend away would be a welcome break from his usual exhaustion. 

Dean still owed Mick a rematch from last year’s trip. Mick drank him under the table and Dean didn’t want to lose two years running, he had a reputation to uphold afterall. Bartending had cut into his training time, among other things.

Ash was the first one to bow out for the night, knowing his side towing business would be busy with vehicles in ditches for however long the storm lasted. Cas bummed a ride with Mick, since his car had never done well in this weather and he was still dragging his feet on upgrading. Dean knew he had been hinting at shopping around, but Dean wasn’t going to push the topic and get dragged into helping or finagling with the salesman for the guy. Cas could figure it out on his own, and Dean was finally in a place where he felt comfortable letting him. Huh.

Sam had been quiet all night, but Dean hadn’t mentioned it, attributing the sour mood to post-break up blues. They bought Bobby his weekly drink, “team dues” as he called it and settled in along the bar. 

Dean kept the conversation going, trying to keep the mood light, but Bobby was too tired to ham it up and Sam was not amused by his brother’s antics. Once Bobby polished off his last beer and headed home to Ellen, Dean was rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, you know what, I’ll reel it in, don’t want to interrupt your sulking,” Dean muttered after another joke fell flat. Sam winced at Dean’s jab, which Dean instantly regretted. Though it did seem to shake Sam out of his funk, if minutely.

“So, tell me about Benny,” Sam brought up with elephantine grace.

Dean stared at Sam like he proclaimed he was quitting the law firm and joining the circus, coulrophobia and all. 

Sam huffed. “What?”

“Nice segue there, counselor,” Dean grumbled. “What about him? Hmm, you want a new bowling bag? Because that was already on my list for you for Christmas.”

“Dude, you don’t have to do that. I mean, that’d be great, but no, I was kind of wondering what your deal was? Like do you hang out a lot?” Sam started fishing.

“Yeah, totally, everynight,” Dean deadpanned. “I mean I only work two jobs when I’m not moving your sorry ass back into Mom and Dad’s.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, waiting to figure out where he was going with this line of questioning and just shot in the dark. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is this, like, a Cas thing?” Sam choked out, unable to put it any more delicately. 

Dean burned with shame as his hackles raised in defensiveness. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sam cocked his head and pursed his lips, unamused and unimpressed. “You know what I mean, man. Don’t make me spell it out.”

Dean wouldn’t budge, he dropped his beer with a thud. “Well, you’re gonna have to, because I have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

“Dude!” Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“The fuck is your problem? You got something to say, just say it, Sam.” Dean fumed, daring him with a murderous glare. Sam inhaled pregnantly, face still inching towards bitch mode. Sam eyed the bartender who was trying not to listen and the late game bowlers who suddenly decided they could catch up lane side instead.

What Dean didn’t realize was that he needed Sam to say it. He yearned for it, for his truth to be spoken, and known without him having to say it himself.

“Look, I know this isn’t something we talk about. But, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Alright? In the beginning with Cas, it was like you were obsessed, man. And since he just always seemed to need something from you. I just want to make sure you’re not getting used, I guess,” Sam unraveled the heart of his concern without saying too much, which Dean was not expecting, at all.

Dumbfounded, Dean retreated, annoyance trumping any chance at relief. 

“I think I can handle myself, thanks,” Dean spat. Petulantly, he took a sip from his beer, the cold glass solid in his hand, giving him something to clutch or even throw, if it came down to it.

“I didn’t say---,” Sam broke off. “Fine! You know what? You’re on your own. Just remember that I should have listened to you about Ruby and now I’m paying the price for my own stubbornness.”

Sam stood and reached for his money clip, tossing an extra five on the bar for the dramatics. He gave Dean one last chance to come clean, to own up to what they weren’t saying. Dean stared straight ahead, eyes unfocusing on the liquor labels behind the bar as if Sam had already left. So he did, just as he came: pissed and questioning his brother’s motives.

    Dean didn’t go home after that. Instead he absently followed a plow down the main road until he happened upon a familiar turn off. Which he took slow and steady until it ended in a T. The little brick ranch at the end of the lane held a lot of memories. And it was more inviting than ever with its Christmas card perfection in the falling snow. Dean put the Impala in park and let the radio play, wishing he had a joint just for the sake of something to do. 

He wasn’t there ten minutes before his phone rang, which he answered without processing the caller ID.

“You gonna come in or you just gonna sit out there feeling sorry for yourself?” Jo’s voice sliced across the line.

“Didn’t know if you were still up,” Dean bullshitted.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Backdoor’s open,” her unimpressed reply. She hung up before Dean could make up an excuse to leave. He slouched out of the car and trudged down the long country driveway. As soon as he had stomped the snow off his boots, Jo welcomed him in with a firm hug and an appraising glint in her eye.

“Thanks, it’s a real mess out there,” Dean explained.

Jo just shook her head at him. “How’d ya bowl?”

“619 series, finished strong in the last few frames,” Dean answered. “Were you at your folks?”

“Nah, just know it’s Wednesday night, which means the boys were at the alley,” Jo smirked as she reached atop her fridge for the good stuff. 

She held up the whiskey in offering and Dean nodded, bending out of his coat. He slipped it over the back of a chair and settled in at the vintage kitchen table. She poured him a glass and watched as he inhaled the first round like he had been outside for hours and needed to fight off a much deeper chill.

“Well alright,” Jo resigned herself to playing shrink and poured Dean another drink. “So, what’s got you stuck in your head, hm?”

Dean weighed his head from side to side as he let the whiskey roll over his tongue. He never got far into a pouting session when Jo was around, but he also didn’t know which chamber of his heart he could stand to prop open for her inspection tonight.

“How’ve you been, Jo? You still schooling those truckers on taking care of their own rigs?” Dean sidestepped with ease.

“You know it,” Jo confirmed. “Not a day goes by that I don’t have to put another asshole in his place. Pays good, though.”

Jo had followed in Bobby’s footsteps and became a mechanic, but two Singers were already one too many for the shop and salvage yard. So she took her skills out to the interstate and made a name for herself as the only female diesel technician in four counties. Dean used to hate it when she would fix something faster than him, but it had been more than a decade since her skills had made him feel inferior. Dean knew Jo’d be his boss someday, but he wasn’t too worried about those far off futures; Bobby wouldn’t retire unless Ellen made him or killed him first.

“How’s Rufus holding up?” Jo teased, knowing her dad’s old friend was getting worse for the wear, much like John had.

“Stubborn, and as glib as ever. Good thing your dad rehired him, because he’s a bit too mouthy for most customers,” Dean admitted.

    Jo hummed with nostalgia. “I gotta swing by and bug you guys sometime, but it just keeps getting busier.”

    Dean sighed. “I hear that. What’s it been? Labor day? No. I haven’t even seen you since the Fourth. Christ!”

“Yeah, well, you’ll see me next week for Thanksgiving, don’t get too sentimental about it now,” Jo quipped. She took a short sip off the bottle as Dean swirled the last of his second helping.

“I’m seeing someone,” Dean staggered the words, like he wasn’t sure if their meanings and sounds fit together.

Jo sighed dramatically, “Finally, the truth is revealed! What’s up? She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“No.” Dean had to bite back his guffaw. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, then why the sad face? Not pulling a Ruby on ya, I hope?” Jo tested the waters.

“No, it’s--uh--- it’s been good. Really good. I just, kind of need to make up my mind if I’m in it for the long haul. Ya know?” Dean clarified, relaxing with each little confession. 

“Uh-oh it’s getting serious,” Jo mock whispered.

Dean rolled his shoulders. “No, well, it could be. I don’t know.”

Jo giggled. “I can’t believe you! You’re fucking twitterpated, aren’t you?!”

“Jo, if you start making Thumper jokes, I’m shutting up right now,” Dean warned with a pointed finger. “Care to top me off while you’re at it?”

“Okay, okay, gosh.” Jo rolled her eyes dramatically as she poured him another drink before pointedly putting it back on the fridge. “But you’re in deep. You’re all blushy about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to go big. It just means they’re willing to put up with me until I say the word,” Dean tried to downplay his feelings and Benny’s confession.

“So do it! Bust out the grand gestures already,” Jo encouraged.

Dean scoffed, “I’m not built for commitment, you know that!”

“Except you kinda are! You’ve changed, Dean,” Jo insisted, head hung to pour her honesty from her eyes. “I don’t know when it happened, but you’re not that reckless boy that I knew. You’ve always been a good guy, but now?---- Maybe it’s been since Sam came home, I don’t know. But somewhere along the way you grew up.---- It’s okay to let yourself want something more, you know.”

Dean grumbled and rolled his neck, breaking the eye contact. She always could do this to him, just like her mother, see straight through his every defense. “I always thought it’d be you, you know?”

Jo smiled without teeth. “Firsts can do that to people. But, we’re not those kids anymore, Dean. So, if you’re asking for my permission or seeking my approval---?”

Dean dropped his head to his hands, thick fingers poorly hiding him from Jo. “It’s a guy, Jo. I’m--- I don’t know--- Bi? I guess?”

“Dean?” Jo waited until he stopped being sheepish and looked at her, even if it was only out of the corner of one eye. “You’ve been head over heels for Cas for years. If you dare tell me this is about him, so help me, I will throw you out right now.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh ruefully at that and toss back what was left of his whiskey. “You saw that, huh?”

She didn’t answer, waiting for him to work through it on his own.

“It’s not Cas.” Dean smacked his lips and held up his glass for a refill. Jo stood and brought the bottle back to the table. Dean poured himself three fingers worth and pondered the sloshing liquid before he continued. “Your mom know?”

Jo licked her lips, cocked her head, and sighed.

Dean closed his eyes and asked, “Bobby? Fuck!--- my mom?!”

“No one has ever said it out loud, Dean. I don’t know who knows, honestly. But we’re family, that doesn’t change.” Jo grasped his wrist firmly, he held her hand to his and then she slapped her other one on top. Time stopped long enough for Dean to accept that his secret was finally out, but also that it was safe.

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you, of all people.” Dean thumbed her knuckles, staring into eyes he knew as well as his own.

“Really? Who else would you be talking to about it? Sam? Ash, maybe?” Jo giggled. “I’m honored, actually. It means you stopped hating me.”

Dean pulled his hands away and took another drink. “I never hated you.” 

“Okay, well, maybe it means you stopped hating yourself,” Jo corrected.

Dean’s brows crooked incredulously.

“Too much?” Jo asked apologetically.

Dean shook his head and sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter.”

“Now you’re the one being rude,” Jo muttered before taking a solid drink off the bottle this time.

Dean let himself relax, let the whiskey and conversation work into his muscles and set his worries aside. They talked like the old days and about the old days. Those in between years after high school and before anyone was ready to face responsibility. When half their friends went to college, they had just kept on working. After another hour, Jo leaned back in her chair and started scrutinizing him once again.

“You know how I know you’re happy with what’s his name?” Jo teased.

“Beh--- I didn’t tell you, fuck! Benny, his name is Benny. Goddamnit Joanna Beth,” Dean cursed through a chuckle; more details dragged out of him than he had planned on.

Jo cocked her head and considered the name.“Benny, right. You wanna know how I know?” Jo pushed.

“Fine, how?” Dean held up his hand, beckoning for her to hit him with her response.

“Because this is about the time of night you start giving me the lazy once over. But not tonight,” Jo proclaimed, chin out condescendingly. She had him, every few years they’d find themselves back in each other’s beds, for a night or a weekend and then they’d move on. He always thought of her as his home, his starting point. But maybe they weren’t the same thing at all.

“You still look good, Jo,” Dean replied, trying to save face.

“That’s not what I meant, Dean. Besides, I know!” Jo snarked, straightening her spine and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Dean couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore and it spilled out over a toothy grin, making Jo almost choke on her drink. God, Dean felt like anything was possible. That life was good. 

After the hysterics had calmed down, Dean exhaled. “Thanks, Jo. I needed this.”

“You sure did, nobody else was gonna hand you your ass so kindly,” Jo agreed, standing and taking the bottle and Dean’s glass with her to the counter that held the sink. He whined comically, but knew her timing was right. She leaned back and smirked.

Dean grew quiet and Jo waited to see if it was exhaustion, the alcohol or something else. She didn’t have long to prepare.

“How’m I gonna tell my dad?” Dean asked, the pain and panic pulling at his face until she saw the telltale tears well up.

“Fuck ‘im. I mean it, if your dad can’t get his head out of his ass to see how happy you are, he isn’t worth your time,” Jo said adamantly.

Dean let his thoughts roll to the side of his head and licked his lips, biting against the tremor. He quickly wiped away the tears that escaped and inhaled wet and ragged. Jo slipped to his side and ran her hand through his hair, letting his face fall against her chest as he breathed through the onslaught. Dean couldn’t help but think how motherly the affection felt.

She pulled back to look him over at arms’ length. 

“So what now? You want the couch? Or should I call you a ride? I’m sure Sam owes you one,” Jo asked, as no nonsense as ever.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean dismissed her concern, rubbing up his face to wipe off his nose.

“Well, you ain't driving.” Jo held up his keys. Dean blanched, feeling his pockets for them, fruitlessly. He stood to snatch them, but she had already skipped across the kitchen, too far to catch. “Nuh-uh, no way I’m letting you risk your baby. Or your thick skull in this weather.”

 Dean put his hands on his hips, and blinked through the dizziness. He realized he hadn’t stood in a few hours. “Sam.”

“What’s that?” Jo prodded mischievously, ear leaning in as if she couldn’t hear him.

“Very funny. Call Sam, will ya?” Dean rolled his eyes as she scrolled through her contacts, murmuring the names under her breath. His keys were raised in victory, as if he couldn’t reach them above her head. He could have snagged them in an instant, if he wanted to.

 While Jo woke Sam, Dean checked his own phone. Ignoring some texts from his mom and Cas, he selected the conversation with Benny. There were no new messages since that morning. Dean hesitated before relocking his screen.

“Sam’ll be here in twenty. You want something to eat? I’ve got chips.” Jo offered, opening the cupboard.

Tagging: @flamencodiva​ @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008  @crashdevlin​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6​ @cracksinthewalls​ @atc74​​

Series Masterlist

SPN Masterlist

Tell me what you thought?

Part 10: Spit it Out

[witchthewriter]

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑦𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛🔮

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

SFW🌿

・Emmett would find witchcraft so fascinating. His eyes would light up, and he would sit there dumbfounded

・This is a world where vampires and shape-shifters exist. So of course there’s going to be powerful witches

・Unlike Edward, who would be a bit wary of a s/o who can do magic, Emmett is absolutely on board - 100%

  “Babe, turn the lights off.”

*You turn the lights off without getting up from your seat*

   “Haha woah. Okay now turn them off!”

*They turn off*

     “Babe you’re so powerful!”

“No Emmett, you just need to pay the electricity bill.” 

・Has gone to the witchy store to get more herbs but he wrote them down on his hand and the ink didn’t dry. So he tried to make out what the word is while the shop assistant stood there dumbfounded

・Tells people his partner is better than theirs all the time - and that has nothing to do with you being a witch

・He likes to walk around with the incense stick. You told him that counter clock-wise rids bad energy and clock wise invites positive energy. So he vampire runs around the house waving the stick like a maniac 

・ “Oops set off the fire alarm again.”

・Has and will continue to interrupt you while you’re casting a spell

     “Babe I broke the door aga- oh sorry you’re hexing someone.” 

・There isn’t really a ‘mature’ person in the relationship. You would be the closest to it, but there are instances where Emmett has to remind you to be responsible 

  “I know he’s a douche but just because he insulted me doesn’t mean you have to curse his whole family tree.” 

・Calls you babe all the time (don’t know if you caught on to that yet or ...)

・Gets used to your customs, so when you forget to put your crystals out to charge he does that for you 

・Alice loves coming over and seeing everything. She has tried to redecorate, but who could do better than whimsicore? 

・Emmett knows you’re his mate because when you were in a dangerous situation, he thought he would die. Whatever happened to you, he would risk his life to save yours 

・And he went to Edward because he was so confused by these emotions, and Edward had to explain to him the whole mate thing 

・Rosalie is still in the Cullen/Hale family, but she has a different mate 

・You’re welcomed with open arms, and feel very close to Alice and Esme 

・Jasper makes you uneasy though. Probably because of his past - being a confederate soldier and all 

・Emmett wears protection stones and amulets. Even though he’s one of the most dangerous creatures on earth, you like to give him extra protection/safety

・People do come to you with their problems, but some you have to turn away. Others you do everything to help. 

・Your powers are unique. Every witch is different, much like vampires. Not everyone who follows witchcraft will have extra abilities. 

・All those who become witches have heightened intuition and senses. 

・But you were granted the gift of telekinesis (moving things with your mind).

・However when you use this, your aura can be seen (although not by humans.) 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Romantic Flight by John Powell

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

Chaotic Dumbass Duo

Tragic Past x Ray of Light (goes both ways)

Big Dumb x Small Smart

[drakemire]

Fire the headcannon! #01

About the meanings of names. Ganondorf. That the first component alludes to either "hate" or "curse" feels natural after finishing a particular game. I regard the initial Ganon as spiritual manifestation of the emotion flaring while the execration was voiced. For its more forceful tone and personal connotation, my preference picked "hate". Dorf is actually the word for "village" in my language. I tried to derive use from it, reflecting which qualities I associate with the concept. But "calm", "secluded", "sheltered" ring hardly appropriate for the King of Evil. Or do they? Is there not something that shall be secluded and sheltered within him as the reason for his existence, as concocted by the two who not only gifted him his names? Shall he not keep it calm until it grows potent enough to creep out of its cradle? My contemplation made relieving sense as I captured it in the result "harbour of hate". Agahnim. The sole full-blooded Gerudo with two parents living is given an additional name, and You may recognize this one. I noticed a similarity to "Ghirahim", therefore decided that Gerudo language is rooted in Demon's. All known with these names have the aptitude for magic in common, so the resembling parts - ahnim/ahim - I translated as "sorcerer". In the course of time, one n slipped between the letters, perhaps due to phonotactics. While "Ghir" absorbed the almost identical German "Gier" (greed) to make Ghirahim the "greedy magician", Aga should emphasize the ability. And the first attribute that flew to mind was … well, "first". Combining both "first one" as well as "first-class", no one versed in the language must doubt the "first sorcerer"'s magical competence. Dragmire. To achieve a compromise between this invention from Nintendo of America and my affection for it, I think of it as the name of Ganondorf's sire, the man who gave nearly the entire Gerudo population in Ocarina of Time its life. Out of traditional devotion to their father, strengthening the sister's bond, all descendants of one king wear his name. Even so, mostly the son gets addressed in this manner by representatives from the East. Amongst themselves, the practical women see no reason in doing so. Formerly assumed as "dragon", I must not ignore that Drag is built in NoA's second creation: "Mandrag" (of the enchanted thieves). Considering my vague grammar, "man" means "enchanted" as in "possessed by evil" and "drag" "thief". Mire seems like an ancient word for "might". "Thieves' impact" tells about the potential of the desert community, although ironic for Ganondorf. Koume & Kotake. The syllable their names share is as evident as the difference between these hags. Ko is a Latin allomorph - e.g. in "cooperation" - that means "together", "with". Adopting this, I added the respective element: The smooth sounding ume, the cracking take make them "with fire", "with ice". Two further seconds were spent to translate Twinrova as "twin witches". Nabooru. "No" and "not", "non" et "ne … pas", "nein" und "nicht" - Na sounds just like another word used for denying. Booru reminds me of German "verborgen" (hidden, concealed). I imagine it a naughty choice of Nabooru's mother to name her "uncovered", as one of wise foresight. Both expectations came true, for the daughter is neither covered by much cloth nor covering her mouth instead of complimenting the Hero or expressing her loathing towards Ganondorf. Twinrova pervert this meaning when they not only shroud her in a full-body armor, but also silence her loose tongue. Gerudo. Skyward Sword implies that the term is first bestowed upon a dragonfly, hence would my translation relate to the insect rather than the people. However, since Geldarm and Geldman are two sand-affiliated monsters which in Japanese are actually called Gerudo Āmu/Man, there remains little space for me to get creative. So, Geru became "desert", and do, shared with the designations for other Āmu, means "coming from". Because of the name-giver being a human or a Goron, this term is one of the few used in the arid West not based on Demon language.

[redfoxline]

Out of my Chest #2 - a FengQing ficlet

So, a few days ago I saw that tweet from Frace and couldn't get the idea out of my mind. (please see tweet here!!) I didn't have time for a full fic, so here comes the ficlet for my "Out of my chest" series. Thank you, pal, for feeding my creativity wheel!

Communication is key

Summary: Muqing and Fenxin developed a special non-verbal communication over the years and everyone goes "Huuuuh??" about it, especially Muqin's assholish boyfriend, who Fengxin hates and who Muqin wouldn't be really interested in dating in the first place, if he didn't think Fengxin was straight.

Fenxin and Muqing are friends - reluctant at first, but Muqing really wanted to make friends with the nice kid at school, and he needed to play nice with the stupid jock, so be it.

At first, both Muqing and Fenxin played nice (somewhat). However, Fenxin isn’t one to pretend and soon he regularly sends jabs at Muqing - Fenxin thinking Muqing only wants to be friends with Xielian because he’s the most popular kid at school. Things escalate, and soon Fenxin and Muqing are well-known for their constant fighting.

It gets so bad that, after a few months of teachers ignoring the problem, Xielian has to intervene to prevent more blood to be shed - Muqing still ends up at the hospital with two broken fingers while Muqing nurses his broken nose. 

(Much, much later, they would reminisce how Fenxin’s nose ended up crooked and laugh about it.)

Hence, Fenxin and Muqing reverted to shooting death glare and mouth insults and threats at each other behind Xielian’s back. 

One afternoon during their last year of high school, a fire starts and the whole building ends up in flames. Xielian save a kid from burning alive, but even his heroic action isn’t enough aga    inst the blame placed on his parent's company. The XianLe company is big, specialized in manufacturing safety equipment, except all the fire alarms and extinguishers placed in the school ended up malfunctioning. The media take over the affair to make the Xianle company fall. Muqing and Fenxin, watching helplessly as their dear friend marches through a nightmare, do their best to get along so as to make Xielian’s suffering a little bit less hard and end up making real effort improving their relationship.

(The boy Xielian saved would become the man that would save Xielian from the street and become his husband much later on, but that’s a different story.)

Once they reach college, one could call Fenxin and Muqing best friends, even if they throw harsh words at each other.

After high school Fenxin and Muqing decide to room together to save money during college. Muqing because he has no choice, finance-wise, and FQ because he wants not to depend on his parent’s money for his daily expenses (they still pay his college fee though). Also, Fenxin is the only one who can deal with Muqing’s cleaning freak tendency. Fenxin knows Muqing’s childhood home was in the slums and the bad condition made Muqing’s mother really sick, so he understands the roots of Muqing’s fixation. Which doesn't make Fenxin less of a slacker to do the dishes.

Nevertheless, Fenxin and Muqing do try their earnest at accommodating each other, even when they pretend to do it out of obligation. 

That’s when their secret silent language turns into something special.

Fenxin will say say a stupid joke and Muqing will shot him a deadpan look (‘I’m not impressed.’). Fenxin will frown (‘What?’). Muqing will squint (‘Your idiocy is showing.’) Fenxin will growl “You know what? Fuck you!”

During parties or gatherings, Muqing and Fenxin will always spend some time together people-watching and making fun of people they don’t like. Muqing’s eye will twitch at some girl’s way too heavy make-up (‘Oh my god that’s fucking bad’.) Fenxin will smirk (‘I bet even my stolen car didn’t get such a big paint job.’). Muqing’s lips will quiver, fighting a smile (‘At least your car had an excuse.’) Fenxin will laugh, loud and bright, then turn towards Muqing with a softer, teasing smile (‘Not everyone can be like you.’) and Muqing will scowl to hide the blush spreading on his cheek like a wildfire, but feeling damn proud of his eyeliner job.

Muqing will open the fridge to find his homemade cream gone. He will glare at Fenxin (‘I fucking know it’s you.’) Fenxin’s eyebrow will scrunch together (‘The fuck you’re on?’). MX’s eyes will shoot daggers (‘You fucking bastard ate it.’). Fenxin’s lips will curl up in a snarl (‘I fucking didn’t.’). Muqing will snap the fridge’s door closed, face hot from rage, glaring at Fenxin (‘Selfish bastard.’)Fenxin will yell after Muqing’s retrating’s back thatMuqing is a freaking psycho and that he should get his head checked.  

(Later, Fenxin will realize that this weird-tasting guacamole wasn’t guacamole. He will apologize for eating Muqing’s homemade face cream by purchasing the most expensive, vegan moisturizer he’s able to find on the internet.)

Their friends are still startled when Fenxin and Muqing start shouting or bursting in laughter out of the blue, but they got used to it and pay them no mind.

There is, however, one thing: Muqing has a lot of boyfriends, and Fenxin likes absolutely none of them.

One could think it’s because Fenxin is the protective kind, especially towards those he holds dear, and he’s been friends with Muqing for a long time. However, a few people (including Xielian) know it’s because Fenxin has the biggest crush on Muqing. Fenxin denies it fervently everytime the subject is brought up, even if he preens whenever his friends refer to him as the “Muqing’s expert”.

One his side, Muqing has been in love with Fenxin since mid high school but he thinks Fenxin is straight, and that he’s not good enough for someone like Fenxin anyway. To Xielian’s dismay, Muqing has a lot of pride but very little self-esteem, so he tries to find love anywhere but in Fenxin’s arms.

Muqing’s boyfriends are often self-satisfied pricks, older guys with a lot of money who want someone very pretty in their arms that also sounds cultivated. They like to show Muqing off like he’s some prize, but only a few of them consider Muqing as someone truly smart, nor do they consider him for a long-lasting relationship. They often treat Muqing like trash as time goes on, at which point Muqing breaks off their relationship.

The fact that none of them are treating Muqing right is driving Fenxin absolutely nuts.

At some point, during someone's birthday party, Muqing brings his new boyfriend that he has been dating for a few weeks. For once, the guy is barely older than Muqing and seems decent, which is a relief for Muqing’s friends. Of course, Fenxin hates the guy the very instant he meets him.

Cue Muqing spotting a tiny fly stuck in the frosting of the piece of cake he’s given. He slightly frowns (‘That is utterly disgusting.’) Fenxin tilts his head on the side (‘What is?’). The fingers holding Muqing’s plate twitch (‘That.’). Fenxin spots the fly, huffs silently (‘Just remove it then.’). Muqing’s lips curl in disgust (‘No way. It’s all contaminated now that it touched it.’).

Muqing’s boyfriend is very confused as to why this guy suddenly exclaims “Oh, for fuck’s sake, jsut take mine!” as he shoves his plate in Muqing’s hands and takes Muqing’s for himself. Everyone looks entirely unperturbed by what occurred and Muqing is eating his newly acquired piece of cake as if nothing happened.

(Internally Muqing is thrilled because he knows he’s a bit unreasonable, but he was really disgusted by the fly and he didn’t want to cause a fuss or request another piece of cake. Especially since the cake is chocolate and cherry flavored. Of course, Fenxin knows it’s Muqing’s favorite, hence why he so easily exchanged their plates.)

After witnessing the silent exchanges happening several times, Boyfriend gets super jealous and feels quite like a third wheel. When he tries to mention it, Muqing acts like he doesn’t understand what Boyfriend is talking about! 

Boyfriend starts thinking Muqing is cheating on him with Fenxin, but instead of breaking up with him, he wants Muqing to pay the offense to his pride. He cheats on Muqing and makes sure that Muqing finds out on social media by uploading pictures of him and his newly acquired fiancée at the restaurant, where he introduced her to his parents. (He had, of course, never mentioned Muqing to said parents.)

Muqing is devastated. Not because he loved his boyfriend but because, for once, he felt like his boyfriend was serious about him and Muqing liked him a lot, so Muqing had been ready to commit himself to this relationship.

When Boyfriend laughs at Muqing’s dismay and says his “Serves you right, you get what you dish” speech, Muqing is furious that his boyfriend’s reasons are so petty. Muqing feels betrayed, too, since he has never been unfaithful, and had even hid his love for Fenxin.

Cue (now ex-)Boyfriend being escorted out of the appartement Fenxin and Muqing share together. Except that Fenxin heard it all and he is livid. He rushes out to give Boyfriend a piece of his mind - and possibly shove his fists into Boyfriend’s face - but Muqing stops him.

To Ex-Boyfriend’s dismay, Fenxin and Muqing have an entire silent argument about it while Fenxin is still holding’s boyfriend by the collar after he gave him a black eye.

Several weeks pass. Fenxin is still thinking about EX-boyfriend’s reasons for breaking up with Muqing and he slowly realizes that his closeness with Muqing and their uncanny silent conversation are something that is past the friendship zone. And for their relationship to reach that stage, it probably means that Muqing likes Fenxin back.

Fenxin begins to notice all the little attention Muqing has for him, and how domestic their life together is. Fenxin craves for more and, suddenly, the thought of Muqing bringing a new boyfriend home is untolerable.

When Muqing comes back from work that evening, he finds Fenxin sitting on the couch, shoulders slumped and head in his hands. Finding it a bit strange, and quite worried, he asks Fenxin what’s wrong.

When Fenxin’s eyes level with Muqing’s, they scream (‘I love you.’)

Muqing is taken aback, drops in key in surprise and finds himself rooted on the floor, unable to move as Fenxin rises from his seat and strides across the room towards Muqing, before cradling Muqing’s face in his hands and kissing him soundly.

Muqing feels like he’s ascending. He’s confused, a bit scared, but entirely euphoric at being confessed to. Words fail Muqing when he’s released from the kiss and he looks up at Fenxin, not moving from the other man’s embrace.

Then Muqing smiles, unrestrained even if a bit shy, and Fenxin hears the “I love you too” loud and clear.

************************

"Out of my chest" series

PREVIOUS #1 'Kintsugi': Fengxing ficlet

[thefanficmonster]

Much Cooler

Corpse Husband & Emma Langevin 

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: There’s always a certain level of uncertainty when meeting someone you’ve only known online. There’s that sense of insecurity that your relationship with them will never be the same or - even worse - that their view of you might change for the worse. But there’s nothing more thrilling than seeing the person you’ve been talking to constantly for the past however long standing across from you. 

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so terribly sorry for how late it’s coming out but I hope the fic makes it worth the wait! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“CORPSE! Wake up you famous dumbass!“ is the first thing the poor man heard over the phone at 9 AM on this fine Saturday morning.

It’s more than enough to make him contemplate why he even decided to pick it up in the first place considering he wouldn’t have been very able to participate in the conversation due to his sleepiness. He also, of course, made the mistake of not checking the caller ID which apparently wasn’t necessary considering how recognizable that voice and accent are.

“It’s 9 AM, Emma.“ He states as a tired parent would to a child, “I’m concerned as to why you’re up so early. More so as to why you’re calling me of all people.“

He can practically hear her roll her eyes but he still smirks to himself, knowing she can’t contradict him or argue since he’s completely right with his claims. “Whatever. Remind me to never call you to congratulate you on a milestone again.“

Now that pokes at his attention with a stick. Lately, said attention has proven to be a hibernating bear, leaving Corpse with a lack of interest or motivation for anything but damn if that sentence wasn’t enough to roll him out of bed and hop on PC. “What? What milestone? Subscribers?“

“Nope! You got two million likes on ‘E-girls are ruining my life’! I can’t believe I have to tell you this! Didn’t you notice the numbers climbing?!“ Emma, as annoyed and sarcastic as she’s trying to sound, she’s obviously overjoyed on his behalf and is super proud of him and of the project she luckily agreed to take a small part in.

As his PC boots up, Corpse can’t help but roll his eyes at Emma’s comment, “Well unlike you I have better things to do than refresh a page over and over aga-” His sentence is quickly cut off when he sees the number of likes under the song for himself.

Knowing that he’d find it there didn’t change the feeling of seeing it for the first time at all. It’s so surreal and so hard for his mind to comprehend. Seeing as how little he thinks of himself, his content and his art, this is like his success coming to slap him across the face as if to punctuate to him how wrong that mindset is.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you offered to take me out for at least a coffee to celebrate, bro.“ Emma comments sarcastically, joking only halfway from what he can sense.

He smirks, “Trying to even the playing field, I see.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’s still a faceless mystery to her while her face is literally the cover art for one of his songs.

She laughs but is quick to dismiss his claim, “Nah, I might be a curious and nosey little shit on other occasions, but other people’s privacy is not something I dig my nose into. However, if I were to even the playing field between us it wouldn’t be appearance-wise. More personality-wise. For my sake and yours I choose to believe you are way cooler in person than you are through messages or on a call.”

This withdraws a genuine fit of laughter from Corpse who throws his head back, a few strands of hair moving aside to reveal his shiny eyes, “Well then, instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt, how about we settle it once and for all? Tomorrow? I’ll text you the location.”

Emma’s eyebrows shoot upwards as soon as she comprehends his words and the tone that leaves no room for her to assume he’s joking, “Wait what? How come you’re agreeing to this? And so easily? Nah, this a trap if I’ve ever seen it.”

Corpse laughs yet again, “No trap, Em. I just can’t have you doubting my coolness.”

                                                             *  *  *

The main reason as to why Corpse requested for this meeting to be today is because he feared that if he had more than twenty four hours to dwell on it he’d chicken out. Little did he know it was the same for Emma. Their friendship has only ever existed with the bridge of social media connecting them and they both can’t help but fear the other might not like who they are IRL. They fear they unintentionally become a different person or change things about themselves subconsciously when communicating with people online. Bottom line, they’re scared of letting the other person down with who they really are, unaware that their personalities are most likely the exact same because, as the people who know them can confirm, neither Corpse nor Emma are the type to put on a show in order to be liked. They would rather have no friends because of who they are than have friends and fans of their persona instead of the real them.

And so, while slightly afraid and anxious about this meeting, both of them see it as a relief test to see if the friendship is in fact as real as it’s seemed these past months.

Corpse was the one to choose the location of their meet-up, a location Emma didn’t even think twice about agreeing on, and ever since, they’ve both been counting the hours until their scheduled meeting time.  It’s not about impressing each other, at least that’s what they’re both telling themselves, but rather proving to the other that they’re worthy of their friendship. They might throw snarky and sarcastic comments at one another that others would give a side-eye glance to and question if their friendship is real, but they know the dynamic best and they sure as hell don’t wanna lose it or each other.

Best friends are the ones who roast each other after all - you can’t tell me I’m wrong.

The nervous Corpse fidgets with the insides of his hoodie pockets as he waits outside the café, having arrived ten minutes early because he couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts in his apartment, judging every fragment of himself twice as harshly as usual. Emma, on the other hand, could barely bring herself to leave her home. She kept retouching her appearance, despite knowing Corpse wouldn’t judge her even if she showed up in pjs. To be fair she contemplated doing just that several times because her hair pissed her off enough to get her discouraged on her outfit altogether but she did eventually talk herself into pulling it together. She already knew she’d be at least five minutes late, but once again, she knew Corpse wouldn’t care.

He’d wait, cause that’s the kind of friend he was. Cause that’s the kind of friend she was for him too.

And boy did it take her less than a second to recognize him. She wasn’t even out of the car when she saw him and knew it was exactly who she was looking for. He too, as if with a sixth sense that registered her presence, shoots his head up from his phone to look up at her, their gazes meeting. There’s a brief moment of close-to-shocked silence, their eyes a bit widened as their brains comprehend that they’re within arm’s reach of one another.

That’s when Emma’s the first to break the bubble of awe as a wide grin spreads across her face and she runs to Corpse, wrapping him in a hug before he’s even realized the distance between the two’s been closed.

“Hey.“ She mumbles, her face hidden in his hoodie due to the height difference.

“H-hey.“ He replies, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her too.

“I was right.“ She says once she pulls away, “You are much cooler face-to-face.“ She pauses for a second, narrowing her eyes, “You’d be even cooler if you bought me coffee though.“

Earning a laugh from him, she’s guided into the café by the arm Corpse wraps around her shoulders, telling her he’s get her a milkshake cause he doesn’t want to see her high on caffeine. Needless to say, they both are, indeed, much cooler to one another IRL.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn

[vvatchword]

I thought I slowed down in March.

Nope

The top two screenshots are from the first of April--shared mostly for my March statistics. As of today, I’m already at 10,000 words for April. whoo

Plot-wise, I’m at the point where I’m filling in blanks, adding appropriate build-up for plot and characterization reasons, and most importantly, fixing timing. Unlike A Summer for Saya, which I wrote from beginning to end one chapter at a time, I wrote whatever interested me for the BioShock fic and then just tried to shunt bits in wherever they might fit. This has caused all kinds of mayhem, timeline-wise, but I just didn’t give a fuck. 

“First draft privileges,” I said. And although I was right, aga;jaqe;bzpe

This is how Blanche de Glace’s party--which I used as an debut for Johnny Topside--fell on a Tuesday night completely by accident; naturally, I had to go fix this. I figured she’d be a fuckin drama queen and would be like, FRIDAY NIGHT BITCHES, if you have other plans you’re a square. go to my party or go to hell.

So now major plot points and character growth sections need to be culled, tightened, fixed--you name it, it needs doing. I kinda hate myself for writing out of order now tbh. I’d write up these perfect little sections that were completely self contained and now I have to break them apart and rework them entirely in some cases.

I’m using Aeon Timeline II, a fucking god-tier timeline program that is so complex that it breaks my brain. Blue events are in-story and usually aren’t canon; green signifies canon events without explicit dates where I used creative license (obviously it’s unclear exactly when Fontaine’s charities opened); red events are (usually) canon events with ties to the real world and historical events (in this case, I just turned it red because Jack is important); yellow events are historical events that are most likely to affect my characters. I’m going to add American and USSR events eventually and all that jazz.

And, of course, Timeline and Scrivener are pals and fit together like hand in glove, so I’m setting that up as we speak.

Closing the Uprising document now takes up to five minutes because of how much bullshit it needs to back up rofl. The only other document that takes longer is my Notes document, which takes about 10 minutes to close and sometimes crashes Scrivener when I try to open it.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 8, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

STORY WARNINGS: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD

First rewritten reworking 06/17/2023

Second rewritten reworking 10/04/2024

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1238

“Knee high boots are cool aesthetic wise, but they get sweaty and uncomfortable and stinky,” I was explaining to Peter as we browsed through the ware at Boots and Moccasins. “I think for you, something like this.” I picked up an ankle boot with a folded down cuff.

  “Bonjour, Mary Claire!” the stall owner, a portly man with thinning hair, greeted me, having been occupied by helping someone else.

  “Bonjour, Gustave!” I returned the greeting, smiling as I set the shoe down to grasp the older man’s hand.

  “Does your shoes need to have the soles redone?” he asked me as I ran my finger through a basket of brightly striped socks that was on the table.

  “No, my shoes are holding up wonderfully, thank you, but that’s not why I’m here today.” I turned to Peter and took his hand into mine. “My soulmate here needs some faire shoes of his own.”

  “Ah, welcome! Come in, come in, I can fit you and see if I have anything in stock that’ll fit you!” Gustave grinned, waving Peter back behind the booth.

  “Peter, I’ll be across the way looking in the craftware booth,” I called out as I turned to leave. “I need more cord for my lucet.”

  “Okay sweetheart, stay where I can see you?” Peter asked. I only smiled at him before walking off.

  “I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but aren’t you a bit old for her?” I overhead Gustave asking Peter as I picked through the crafting booth.

  “It’s more platonic than anything,” Peter shrugged, kicking off his shoes. “Besides, she’s the one in charge- I just go where she tells me to.”

  Gustave hemmed and hawed as he wrote down measurements on a pad of paper.

  “You know, if you hurt her-” Gustave started to say only to be cut off by a low growl.

  “Which I won’t,” Peter said fiercely. “I rather die than hurt her.”

  “Good,” was all that Hunter said. “All I was trying to say is if you hurt her, you signed a death wish- everyone here at the New York Renaissance Faire knows and loves her. We’d all give our lives for her and that little baby she’s carrying.”

  “Noted.” Peter blinked, his eyes darting over to where I was browsing. I paused in my search and got down onto my knees to talk to a toddler, who presented me with a pretty flower. I smelled it before tucking it behind her ear with a soft little coo.

  “Mary Claire.”

  I felt shivers race down my spine and my heart literally stop beating. I forced air into my lungs as I ignored Kody Williams by focusing in on what Peter and Gustave were talking about.

  “I think I’m going to marry her,” Peter blurted out with a grin on his face as he watched me.

  “Oh, now I’m invested,” Gustave said.

  “I mean I want to wake up every morning and call her my wife, but not now,” Peter rambled. “But when she’s ready.”

  I scowled as I turned away from my stalker’s attempts to try and engage me in a conversation consisting of video games and crypto currency and began to quickly make my way back over to Peter.

  He must’ve seen the worry on my face because he stood up and whisked me behind him before baring his teeth at Kody Williams.

  “Hey sweetheart, is he bothering you?” he murmured gently.

  “No, we’re just talking,” answered the man, taking a step forward only to backtrack when Peter wrapped a protective arm around me and tugging me in closer to him.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Peter snapped, shooting a sneer his way. “Sweetheart?”

  “He keeps following me around and harassing me,” I mumbled into his side. “I keep having to block him because he keeps getting like new phone numbers and stuff.”

  “Fuck,” Peter growled, pulling himself to his full height. “I don’t ever want to see you again. If I see you and you’re within ten feet of my soulmate, so help me god, I will kill you.”

  “Mary Claire’s your soulmate?” I didn’t have to look at Kody Williams  to see fear flicker into his eyes.

  “That’s what I just said,” Peter snarled, pressing his hand to my head, subconsciously telling me that he was here. “Now go away- you’re distressing my pregnant soulmate.” He turned his back to him, purposely dismissing him. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

  I whimpered as I squeezed my arms tighter around his waist. He shushed her softly as he swayed gently in place with me.

  “His name’s Kody Williams, I had him in my kindergarten class over twenty five years ago and he just fixated on me,” I said. “He would follow me into the bathroom during recess and watch me pee.” Peter didn’t say anything, instead focusing on keeping calm. “The school administrations had the attitude of ‘Oh how cute, he has a crush on you, invite us to your wedding’. Fucking disgusting.”

  “I’d say,” he growled, dragging me with him inside the booth. “I want you to stay next to me.”

  “Okay,” I meeped, sinking into a sitting position on the grass as he resettled himself.

  “My sisters call me ‘Peter the Protector’,” he explained, allowing for Gustave to continue his measuring abouts.

  “A nickname that I trust you earned dutifully,” I quipped. “Calm down, little girl, I’ll get you your ice cream in a little bit!”

  Peter chuckled as he watched me rubbing my tummy, layering on motherly love onto little girl.

  “Alright, so I got your measurements, what color do you want your shoes to be?” Hunter asked, handing over a ring with leather samples.

  “Brown or black?” Peter turned to me, and I stuck my foot out to showcase my own buckled shoes in a deep hunter green color. “That color, please.”

  “Do you still have that wicked hot pink color for your leathers?” I asked with a teasing twinkle in my eyes.

  “Fuck no,” Peter scowled. “Not pink- I hate that color.”

  “Because of your sisters?” I giggled. “Understandable.”

  “Everything in the house was ‘pink this’ and ‘pink that’,” he grumbled.

  “I’m not much of a pink girl myself, I like blue,” I announced as he gave Gustave a down payment for his faire shoes. “Sammi is a pink kind of Barbie girl. Jackie like purple the most. We always had fun color coding our stuff.”

  “Noted,” Peter nodded turning back to Gustave. “No pink.”

    Bonjour, hello, French

  TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

  If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

  PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c01a​

@rockstarslutt​

@angelxfuckk​

[itslifethroughmyeyes]

3 Seeds of Wisdom that changed my life!

I was bullied, mocked, and humiliated both in private and in public by people that I had trusted the most in my life, and I didn’t know how to put an end to the constant torture and torment.

The truth is I was never conditioned to stand up for myself but to always surrender in the name of courtesy; nor did I have any self-awareness about my rights.

But life doesn’t always work that way!

My life took a turn when I was accepted for a full-bright scholarship in a prestigious UK University. Little did I know that my life was about to change forever, for the better…

It was on my third day on campus that I met her. She would turn out to be my Academic Advisor for two years.

She was like Master Oogway to me! Yeah, the one that the plump panda had in the “Kung Fu Panda” movie: so full of sagacity, splattering out wisdom in a cascade; pure, profound, and always composed and calm.

I had an emotional breakdown during our first meeting; sinking in the quicksand of embarrassment, I rushed to apologize to her. To my utter surprise, this is how she responded:

She: “Gul, why are you sorry? For breaking down in front of your academic advisor or for showing the human side of your personality?” I watched her gracefully rising to her feet and grabbing a napkin.

Me: “I didn’t mean to be vulnerable.”

While offering the napkin to me, she continued;

“Our vulnerabilities are what make us human. Never feel sorry for expressing your emotions. It takes a lot of strength to put your emotions out there for people to see. You are rather stronger than others.”

She then picked three sunflower seeds from the intricately ornate Iznik pottery bowl (one she had probably bought from a holiday to Turkey) and placed them on the table between us.

She: “Consider these as seeds of wisdom, plant them down in your mind and soul, feed them with daily practice and commitment, let them grow in your personality.”

I still remember the spell that her undulated voice and unprecedented words cast on me that day.

Her first piece of wisdom was:

Be fierce, focused, and fearless, and let it translates through your work:

Have you ever heard about human kleptoparasites?

There is a village in the Central African Republic where locals steal prey from predators for their own survival. A lion pride is tolerated in the surrounding area because when they hunt the villagers take away the lions’ prey.

For a split second, imagine yourself looting food from a starving lion, even from a tame one. Could you do that? The answer would most probably be ‘No.’

Animals can sense our fear. The moment you get scared the famished lion would pounce on you and knock you down. Then suffocate you to death by clamping his jaws on your throat.

Without sweeping generalizations, I believe humans as social animals are more or less the same as wild lions. We can sense feelings and emotions, fragility and firmness, aversions and inclinations, love and hate!

It takes a lot of courage to be that fearless.

Looking straight into the eyes of adversity: overpower it instead of being overwhelmed; remain focused than become its fugitive; be fierce rather than feeble in your words and actions- that’s how we overcome our demons.

Holding on to the first seed of wisdom, I entered the lecture hall the next day without any sign of trepidation, but rather with a new sense of self-confidence and so aced a presentation I had to give.

2- First thing to do in the morning: decide how you will spend the rest of the day.

While I was in Jordan for my Arabic Language Immersion Program, I got into a scuffle with my roommate and a classmate over a petty issue. Our trivial scuffle turned into a massive brawl that ultimately started taking a toll on my mental and emotional health.

I am sure we all have been in situations where our emotions take control over us, and we lose our cool.

Here I would like to drop the second seed of wisdom that helped me through this difficult time:

“Every morning, the moment you wake up, you have the chance to set the tone for the rest of your day, be it positive or negative, you should be the one deciding it. Don’t let people decide it for you.”

According to scientists, the first 20 minutes of our day holds a decisive role in our success in life as our brains and bodies are in an alpha state.

During alpha state, your subconscious mind is highly active. It is your time for the power play.

Use it wisely!

Always remember what Napoleon Hill-the author of Think and Grow Rich (1937) said:

You are the master of your own destiny!

So, own it! Be the master!

Unconsciously, we often fall prey to the whirlpool of others’ emotional and mental traps that do more harm than any good.

Don’t fall prey to such nonsense. If it’s not your circus, it shouldn’t be your monkey!

Train your subconscious mind to direct your vim and vigour on constructive and productive activities, and you can plan out a prudent to-do-list within the first 20 minutes of your day:

· Try jotting down your short-term goals or make a to-do-list.

· Watching a TED-talk every morning before turning in for work is also highly effective: at least it worked for me!

· Many people start a skill or activity with great enthusiasm, but their zeal soon peters out. Persistence is the key to unlock the door of success and anything that we wish to achieve in life.

3- Make connections: the more diverse, the better!

I lived in a small village in the central part of Pakistan. A place where it seemed everyone knew everything and everyone’s business around them. Denizens were cosily dwelling in their safe bubble that nobody ever tried to look outside the village or even bother to visit the adjacent town.

In the UK, I was exposed to a whole new world of multicultural and multinational identities. I didn’t know what to do or how to respond to it.

I just tried to wind my way through it all without connecting to even a single soul.

But I kept observing, gauging, and analysing people around me.

It made me understand people in a more nuanced way.

The most riveting thing I observed in humans is that we long for similarities, likenesses, and mirror images of our thoughts and identities.

We lean towards national, cultural, ethnic, or even linguistic clusters aligned to our hues of personality. We find serenity and felicity in these cocoons because sameness seems easier to handle.

What we often overlook is the power of diversity and pluralism within society. We can learn more from people who are different from us as they challenge our pre-established notions.

A pluralist, cosmopolitan society is a society which not only accepts difference but actively seeks to understand it and to learn from it. In this perspective, diversity is not a burden to be endured but an opportunity to be welcomed.

(An excerpt from the lecture of Aga Khan at Harvard University Cambridge)

Let’s make the most out of this opportunity.

Fortunately, we live in a very fluid world where globalization and technology have made it easier for humans to connect and create collaborations.

Keeping in view the chaos the global pandemic has brought in the world, sisterhood, brotherhood, partnerships, and associations across borders are needed more now than ever before.

Reach out to people in need!

Be kind, where kindness is needed.

Be forgiving, where forgiveness is needed.

Be a source of hope, where hope is needed.

Make this world a better place for humankind- a world of opportunities and happiness.

That’s what she (my Master Oogway) taught me, and I have internalized for good.

What I shared was the odyssey of just three seeds.

But the story doesn’t end here. Remember, she had an intricately ornate Iznik pottery bowl full of seeds!

[barnes-dameron]

I Think of You

Double Sided Facade 

Soccer player!Cassian Andor x physical therapist!reader

Summary: You came to this country to learn the language and find work to pay off for school, nothing else. Getting a job as a physical therapist for the National soccer team was a plus and getting to see the star player, Cassian Andor, was a major plus as well. But what happens when your visa expires and immigration is on your tail? Your only hope resides in Cassian, who is more than willing to marry you until you can get your green card. What can go wrong?

Word count: 2.9k 

A/N: This is going to be a series but I don’t know how long will it be. I didn’t explicitly say what country this is taking place in because I want everyone who reads this to feel included. So for example, if you’re from the U.S., you can pretend it takes place in Mexico since Diego Luna is from there. Or if you’re from Mexico, you can pretend it takes place in the U.S. or another country. I want all readers to feel included instead of being excluded.  I hope you all enjoy! Let me know if you want to be tagged for future parts. 

Catch up: Part One

***

Cassian had to admit to himself that he was starting to panic when he saw your reaction to his insane question. You stood there in front of him, your eyes wide and your mouth open and gaping. 

“Cassian,” you let out slowly in a voice just above a whisper. “What are you doing?” 

Cassian got up from his stance on the floor to stand in front of you. He needed to be calm and collected, else wise he would spill everything to you. 

“I know about your visa,” Cassian revealed. “You can’t leave now. Not when the season is about to start. So I figured the best way for you to stay is marrying a citizen so you can at least get a residency here faster than the usual process.”

Cassian watched your chest rise slowly and fall at the same rate. Your eyes were no longer wide from shock, but were wide with disbelief. 

“Cassian, I can’t let you do this,” you whispered. “If someone finds out that the marriage is fake, it could run your career.” 

“I’m willing to take that chance,” Cassian replied quickly. meaning every word.

“You would really do this?” you asked, your gaze burning into Cassian, but he welcomed it either way. 

“I would,” Cassian said, looking into your eyes and noting the different shades of color. He suddenly found it hard to breathe in that moment. “It’s what’s best for-” He stopped himself before he could say anything else. He was about to say for you, he would do whatever he can, whatever is best for you. But he couldn’t say that, and you couldn’t know. “The team,” he finished. “It’s what’s best for the team.” 

“Okay,” you said, nodding your head. “I have to go tell Mon and Bail.” 

Cassian let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding as he watched you make your way out of the exam room to the door. So this was happening. It wasn’t how he imagined it in his head. He always thought he would propose to you on the beach after a night of dinner and dancing. The moon would be shining bright, casting its reflection on the navy blue waves. The sand would still be warm under your feet. It would’ve been perfect. Of course, he imagined asking you to marry him would occur after two years of dating and learning everything about you. But life doesn’t come out the way you plan doesn’t it? 

Cassian turned around in the room, looking for where he put his shoes before participating in the therapy. But the next thing he knew, you were wrapping your arms around his neck, and fitting your head against his neck. Cassian was shocked from both the embrace and the closeness. However he welcomed the warmth that radiated off of you and the sweet scent from your shampoo. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled into his neck. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

As quickly as you appeared before him, you left, leaving him a gaping mess as he processed what just happened. He kicked himself for not reciprocating the action. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and bring you closer to him. He wanted to press his head against yours, and leave you a kiss. But instead he was shocked from the action, and stood there like a tree. Well, hopefully the opportunity would present itself again. 

***

You traced the wood pattern of the table as Anderson’s voice droned on and on in the Rebel’s conference room. It’s been about two weeks since Cassian’s proposal, and once you told Mon and Bail, they sent out for Anderson to draw up the marital contract. 

You sat at the long oak table listening to Anderson, who sat at the head of the table. Alongside you was your own lawyer, diligently taking notes on her pad. After revealing everything that happened to you to Jyn, she recommended for you to get your own lawyer in case someone “tries to screw you over,” her words. Across the table sat Cassian, dressed in a suit instead of his usual uniform which you were so used to seeing him in. You secretly scolded yourself from admiring the way he looks in it. Does he have to look good in everything he wears?  He was sitting next to his own lawyer who was also taking notes. 

“So in summary,” Anderson finally said, grabbing your attention at last. “Mr. Andor and Ms. L/N will marry as soon as possible so his citizenship would cover her for a time period of one year. During the time period, Ms. L/N will be required to live with Mr. Andor in order to make the marriage look authentic and in the case an immigration worker makes a surprise home visit. After the one year time period, they are free to divorce. Is there anything that the parties would like to present?” 

“Yes,” your lawyer jumped in as soon as Anderson finished. “My client would like to propose that she and Mr. Andor will get an annulment instead of a divorce, for personal reasons.” 

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks when your lawyer announced that. You really didn’t want to get a divorce, the idea of divorcing someone without a good reason bothered you. Plus the divorce could bring unwanted publicity since you would be divorcing the captain of the major soccer team in the country, and there could be a possibility that someone will unveil the true nature of your fake relationship. 

You watched Anderson’s brow furrow together, his pen trembling a bit in his hand. 

“Well,” Anderson said, still processing the request. “The only grounds for annulment for the two parties would be failure to consummate the marriage.”

“That’s right,” your lawyer replied confidently, her spine straight and her gaze icy. That was another personal reason. It’s not that you didn’t want to have sex with Cassian, but you were sure that he doesn’t have any intention to be with you intimately. He wasn’t doing this whole thing for you anyway, it was for the team. You figured it would be best for the both of you to try and maintain your mutual friendship as long as possible, not to make it any more awkward then it needs to be. “Since my client works closely with Mr. Andor, we thought it might be best that they maintain their professional relationship.” 

“I see,” Anderson said, turning his attention to Cassian’s side of the table. “Does the other party agree with this proposal?”

“Yes,” Cassian replied, not waiting to discuss with his lawyer who seemed to be annoyed with him. 

“Very well,” Anderson concluded, making a note on his pad. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes,” Cassian’s lawyer spoke up. “We would like to propose that Ms. L/N will sign a prenuptial agreement in order to protect the wealth and properties of my client.” 

You felt like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped over your head. A part of you couldn’t believe that Cassian would think you would take half of his money and belongings. Does he really think that lowly of you? However at the same time, you understood why he would do it. It’s only temporary, you reminded yourself. 

“Understandable,” Anderson said, turning his gaze to you and your lawyer. “Does the other party agree with this proposal?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, pressing your lips into a fine line. 

You never thought this was how your marriage would start off...with a legalized contract and lawyers. Every little girl’s dream. 

“Very well,” Anderson said, making another note. “If there is nothing else, I will go ahead and add these points so that it is ready to be signed tomorrow. As for now, you are dismissed.”

You watched as Anderson packed up his documents into his briefcase before leaving the room. As you watched him walk out, you silently wondered how big is the stick that seems to be shoved up in his ass. Your lawyer gave you a small goodbye as she too left the room with her briefcase. You took a deep breath, glad that this meeting was over. You bent down to grab your bag, and when you stood back up, you were met with Cassian’s stance right in front of you. 

“Hey,” he started, his hands shoved into his pants pockets. “I was wondering if you were still free for tonight?” 

Over the past two weeks, you and Cassian have been going out to dinner in order to learn more about each other so you can make your marriage look real. Neither of you know what kind of questions the immigration agent will ask, so you had to learn everything about each other, inside and out. It’s been nice, but after every dinner, you had to remind yourself that it was all fake. Your relationship is fake, the marriage will be fake, but you couldn’t help to feel real feelings. The dinners were a facade for the public, but at times the facade fooled you as well. Fooled you to think that it was real, and gave you false hope that anything could happen.

“Yeah,” you replied, ignoring the butterflies that were erupting in your stomach. 

“Great,” Cassian said, a small grin appearing on his face, making your knee go weak. “I’ll pick you up around six.” 

“Great,” you repeated. “I’ll see you then.” 

You gripped the strap of your bag, and made your way out of the room towards the elevators, not bothering to give Cassian a goodbye. As soon as you got into the elevator, you pressed your head against the wall. You can’t catch feelings. You can’t risk this, and mess it up for both you and Cassian. But you couldn’t help but think about Cassian’s smile when hearing you were free. He smiled...

***

Cassian waited outside in front of your apartment building, leaning against his car. He would’ve gone up to get you, but you begged him not to. The first time he took you out, he came to your door. Some of your neighbors caught sight of him and instantly recognized him, which led to autographs and pictures and caused you two to be late to the dinner reservation. After that, you told him not to come up again, and he respected your wishes. 

His head snapped up when he heard the building door open. Cassian’s stomach dropped to the street and every rational thought in his mind disappeared into the abyss. The only thing he could focus on was you. You were wearing a flowing magenta off the shoulders dress. The length ended just a little below your knee, revealing your smooth beautiful legs. You wore your hair naturally with a flower behind your right ear. Your stride was graceful and confident, like a queen. All the air escaped Cassian’s lungs, and he felt heat blooming in his core as well as his cock hardening. 

“Hi,” you greeted. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” Cassian got out, struggling to find proper words. “Let’s go.”

Cassian opened the passenger door for you, trying to think of things to calm himself down. The drive to the restaurant was silent. You didn’t say anything, just looked out the window, and Cassian couldn’t think of anything to say to you in that moment. He was still in shock of your beauty. He always thought you were a beautiful woman, but tonight you were strikingly gorgeous. The past couple of dinners, Cassian wanted them to be a date without an impending marriage hanging over your heads. But now, he desperately wanted tonight to be a date. He wanted to hold your hand, to hug you close, and to kiss you with everything he has. But then he remembered the annulment that you requested. He can’t have what he truly wanted. He was Tantalus and you were a delectable fruit. He could only admire the thing he wanted most, but knows he will never get it.

Cassian walked behind you as the two of you entered the restaurant. It was softly lighted, creating a romantic ambiance to the place that he originally didn’t intend. The place was near the beach, the gentle lapping of the waves heard in the background when the violinist was in between songs. Cassian has never been to this restaurant, and he mentally cursed Kay for suggesting this place. This place will only make it harder to suppress his feelings toward you. 

The waiter sat you both at a table that was close to the beach and near the violinist. The candle light from the center of the table casted a soft glow on your face, bringing out your gentle features. Cassian had to be sure to take deep breaths every once in a while. This would be the last dinner as colleagues before becoming husband and wife. The thought still shocked Cassian. 

“So that meeting today,” you said, trying to break the silence. 

“Yeah,” Cassian let out, trying to think of something else to say. “Kinda crazy right?” 

“I know,” you replied. “I just hope nothing changes between us.”

That comment hit Cassian like a bullet in the chest. So it was clear, you didn’t want anything else with him. He always thought that was how you felt, but hearing you actually say it hurts even more. 

“Yeah,” Cassian agreed. “It’s only for a year anyways, it’ll be over before we know it.” 

Cassian felt a pang in his heart when you pressed your lips into a thin line. This whole thing was crazy. Cassian knew he would fall deeper in love with you as this time goes by, which would make the split hurt more. He would be worse off next year compared to now. Cassian thought he was broken now, but once you walk away from this fake relationship, he will be shattered. Cassian couldn’t concentrate on the items on the menu, and decided to order whatever the chef recommends. 

“Cassian,” you said, placing your hand on top of his softly, gently grabbing his attention. He felt an electric shock upon the touch, making it hard for him to concentrate. “Are you sure you want to do this? You could still back out, we didn’t sign the contract yet.” 

Of course he wanted to do this. Sure you two would only be husband and wife on paper, wouldn’t be an actual couple, wouldn’t exchange blissful kisses, or even have sex. But he would still get to see you every day and night, and that was enough for him. 

“I’m sure,” Cassian affirmed. “This is what’s best.” Cassian fumbled his other hand around in his pants pocket, reaching for the small velvet box. It was Anderson’s idea to make a formal proposal in public in order to get the support of the fans. They needed to get the public’s support so no one would dare question the nature of your marriage. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out, rubbing your hands over your thighs. “Let’s do this.” 

Cassian nodded, getting out of his seat and kneeling on one knee before you, the second time. He heard the collective gasps and “oh my gosh’s” of the other restaurant patrons. He saw the flashes of people taking pictures from his peripheral vision, and heard the whispers of others saying “Is that Cassian Andor from the Rebels?” The plan was working. Cassian brought out the navy blue box, presenting it to you, and opening it to reveal a dazzling two karat diamond ring. He had to admit it to himself, he found it fun picking out a ring for you. He wanted to get you something that was impressive but no too over the top. When his eyes landed on the chosen ring, he knew it would be perfect for you. But some of the dread washed up against him. At some point in the future he’ll have to return it. For now, however, he pushed those thoughts aside. 

“Y/N L/N,” Cassian began. “Love of my life, my only one, will you marry me?” 

He watched you bring both your hands to cover your mouth in shock, before pressing them against your heart. A smile spread across your face as tears formed in the corner of your eyes. You nodded your head, pretending to be at a loss for words then strangling out a quiet “yes.” You were a good actress. 

Cassian smiled in turn, placing the ring on your finger as the small crowd around him applauded. He placed his hand along your jaw, bringing your lips to meet his. This was his first kiss with you, and he never wanted it to end. Your lips were smooth and soft to the touch, intoxicating if anything. But he pulled back, not wanting to get caught up in the action. He smiled at you when he broke away, watching as you did the same. 

So this was it, the beginning of a long journey which would leave Cassian an utter mess. For a moment, however, he got caught up in the scheme. For a moment, he felt like he was actually proposing to you. For a moment, he felt that your yes was genuine. For a moment, he felt that your returned kiss matched his feelings. But it was all a lie; a coping mechanism for the impending future. 

Cassian turned around, facing the multiple cameras and smiling with your hand in his. He nodded to some who waved, and thanked those who gave him congratulations. 

And this is only the beginning, Cassian thought to himself.  

To be continued...

[smokahuntis]

Relinquo

relinquo

Pairing: Anakin x reader x Padmé (part 2)

Warning: smut! Threeway! Polyamory! Angst!

Summery: masters (y/n) and Obi-wan get word of General Grievous being in Hoth, and so they say their goodbyes before leaving.

Authors note: I didn’t edit this

(Y/n) and her young padawan were in her office with General Kenobi, when a message came threw in hologram, one of our men believed Grievous was on Hoth. Both masters questioned it but if we could get to Grievous we could find Count Dooku.

“Do you think it’s wise to go to Hoth?” Her young Padawan asked looking at them.

“I believe it is our only hope to finding Count Dooku, and killing Grievous will get us much closer to shutting down the droid army.” She answered back grabbing her cloak.

“Plus, if we go quietly our chances will be better, so I recommend just me and you Master (Y/n)” General Kenobi said looking at her as they started walking the halls to find the Jedi council.

“Yes that would be smart, we will travel as refugees...” she answered back, Ire her Padawan stepped up looking at them, pushing her braided brown hair over her shoulder.

“And what of me?” She asked looking at her master for guidance, her master hummed in thought.

“I’ll let the council decide,” she said looking at her blue eyes apprentice. As the council sat around the room and listened to the reasoning and the mission they have set, she could feel the unease of Anakin when she spoke of what she was doing.

“And you believe you can do this with just the three of you?” Ki-Adi said looking at her.

“I believe if we do this quietly and take them by surprise we can take care of it quickly .” She said looking at Ki-Adi, he continued and looked at her padawan this time.

“If anything is to happen, I want your padawan- uh”

“Ireland , sir,” she said bowing her head.

“Forgive me, I want Ireland back here informing us, so we can assist.” He finished looking at them.

“A good idea, this is.” Yoda said holding his cane tightly.

“It will be done then master.” She said bowing her head, and they wrapped up the meeting quickly after, as they walked out she felt Anakin’s eyes on her, she looked down at Ireland and put her hand on her shoulder.

“Since we leave tomorrow, how about you go make sure our ship is ready, yea?” She asked and her padawan nodded understanding.

“Of course master.” She said before running off to do as she says, leaving her and Anakin alone in the hall, she turned to where she felt he was.

“Hiding are we?” She said causing him to walk out from behind a pillar, the sly smirk on his face made he roll her eyes.

“I didn’t want her to see us.” He said moving over to her pulling her into a heated kiss, she kissed back but quickly pulled away.

“Anakin, not here, people will see us...” she said holding his hands looking up into his eyes. “What’s gotten into you?” She asked curiously.

“I worry about you, I worry one day you won’t come back to me, I worry tha-“

“You fear...” she said he hand coming up to rest on his cheek. “You have nothing to fear, you’ve said it yourself Anakin, I am among the strongest of Jedi....don’t fear for me.” She said causing his eye brows to furrow.

“Do you not fear death?”

“I fear not coming back to you and Padmé...” she said looking at him. “Speaking of, I have to tell her I’m leaving.”

“I’ll escort you.” He said linking their arms together as they walked to one of the car ships, to go to the apartment. He helped her in and started to drive.

“You know I’ve been thinking, (y/n)” Anakin began glancing at her, his gloved hand coming down and being placed in her thigh.

“Anakin...” she breathed out looking at him. his face stayed on the ‘road’ in front of him, his face was as serious as it could be. His thumb gently rubbed circles into her covered skin as he did.

“I was thinking... what if we had a child?” He said still facing forward. His question shocked her, in every way, she looked at him not being able to tell if he was serious or not.

“Anakin, I can not have a child, I am a Jedi master it is aga-“ she began, her hand moving over his on her leg.

“But what if you weren’t? What if it was just me and you, and Padmé, together I’m Naboo... we could have a family, be happy...” he said looking over at her, putting the car in autopilot.

“You are not happy here?” She asked looking at him.

“I’m tired of hiding, I’m tired of not knowing when you’ll come back, or even if you’ll come back... it scares us, (y/n)” he said taking her hands.

“You think I do not fear the same?” She said as the car pulled up to the apartment and she stepped out.

“Do you?” He continued following her. “Do you even know what fear feels like?” He said looking at her stopping once they entered the living area, she turned to him.

“Are you accusing me of not having emotion Anakin?” She said looking at him.

“I think you take being a Jedi to seriously.” He stated looking at her, she felt anger in her boil, but she must remain calm, for it is the way... maybe he’s right.

“If I took it to seriously I wouldn’t be here, I wouldn’t be standing in this room with you! I wouldn’t have come here to give Padmé a goodbye kiss! Now would I?” She raised her voice catching him by surprise, but what shocked them both was the small voice that spoke up.

“Goodbye kiss?” Padmé said from the entry to the room, her voice small and filled with emotion.

“It’s not like that Padmé...” she moved over to her quickly, calming her with her force touch. “We believe we found General Grievous, we are going to Hoth to find him okay?” She said her hand cupping her lovers cheek gently. “Don’t think those thoughts...”

“You can read my thoughts?” She asked in the same quiet tone, Anakin walking closer to them, his face held the same question Padmé had asked.

“Only when you are worried like this little one... I leave tomorrow, so please... spend the night with me...” she asked and Padmé nodded, looking over to Anakin pulling him to them.

“No more fighting...” she said.

“Trust me, when we fight you’ll know.” Anakin chuckled looking at (y/n) with curious eyes. His arms wrapped around them securely before pulling them to him closely. “You two are my whole world you know that... I don’t know what I’d do without you guys...” he kissed both of there heads and as if planned they both looked up at him and said.

“Why don’t you show us, Master Skywalker?” they both giggled and looked up at him.

“You two are also the death of me, you know?” He said leaning down kissing Padmé first biting her lip, before moving over to (y/n) he took more time with her, while Padmé started to undo his robes. (Y/ n)s Hand came down removing his lightsaber safely, taking hers with it. She moved over to lay them down as Padmé guided him to the bed.

“Let us lead today” she said smiling at him kissing him gently as she slid his robes off his shoulders, continuing down to his pants. Anakin’s hands trained on the strings of Padmé’s dress pulling and tearing at its seems, he had become so focused on Padmé he didn’t notice (y/n) getting behind him on the bed. As he stood at the end of the bed his hands on Padmé, she stood on her knees behind him running her hands up his bare back, tracing over the scars of his body. Her lips came down onto his shoulder kissing softly.

“What has you so tense?” (Y/n) asked kissing up to his neck to his ear biting at it gently, sending tingles threw his body as she whispered into it. “Master Skywalker...”

he groaned as he finally got Padmé bare, he tried to turn his head to kiss (y/n) but she moved pushing him back to the mattress using the force to move him up to center him. He stared down at the two girls he was completely stunned by, they’d never been so dominant towards him, it was a change he liked. The Young Jedi looked at the Senator and spoke as if he wasn’t even there, as if he was just an object for their pleasure.

“How do you want him, Princess?” She said pushing hair away from Padmé’s face, moving to connect her lips to her neck. Padmé let out a soft moan and moved her delicate fingers to the warriors hair, tugging on the strands, pulling a groan from the (h/c) headed girls mouth. Anakin tried to move to pull them to him but he couldn’t, the force holding him down was to strong, (y/n) was to strong. He just had to sit and watch, he didn’t mind tho, but when (y/n)’s scarred hand came up gripping Padmé’s breasts, causing her to let out a moan.

“(Y/n)...” he couldn’t take it any more, he knew what they wanted, he knew exactly what they wanted, something he’d never done.

They wanted him to beg.

And so he did, “please,” he swallowed thickly feeling like he was going to explode then and there. They looked at him and smirked, both of them crawling onto the bed beside him, one on each side.

“Where do you want us, Ani?” Padmé said as her hand ran up his bare chest, causing him to groan and look at her then at (y/n).

“Anywhere, please, just do something.” He pleaded and they smirked.

Padmé moved over his lap straddling his throbbing cock with her dripping core. At the same (y/n) threw her legs over his head, he had to fight back the urge to fight her with the force just so he could touch her. He hated not being able to destroy their precious little cunts, he hated not being able to pleasure them on his terms. But something about this excited him more, he was close without even being touch by them, or himself.

As if they were connected in the mind, they sunk down to meet him, Padmé sunk down letting his hard cock inside of her aching core, moaning out from the stretching feeling. As (y/n) met his tongue, his tongue that instantly found her clit, writing his name into it letter by letter. All three of them found themselves in a moaning frenzy. Anakin’s moans however were muffled, and sending vibrations straight to the Jedi’s core as he dove in, feasting on her like he had been starved. Padmé’s hands found there way to his chest to help her move as she rode him, giving herself to him completely.

All three of them would die for each other, some a little more then others but they didn’t know it at the time, they didn’t know how devoted they really were to each other.

They didn’t know that they were in love with each other.

Right now this was a release, a home to come back to, a comfort they couldn’t find anywhere else. They never even labeled it, but they never touched someone else either. Anakin had became protective over (y/n) and (y/n) over Padmé, and Padmé over both of them. They were her little Jedi Masters.

Just as Padmé felt herself become closer, she reached out pulling (y/n) into a kiss to help her along, their tongues fighting for dominance. The kiss distracted (y/n) from her hold on Anakin and it broke quickly after. Allowing his hands hands to snap up gripping her legs, ass, stomach, his hands worshiped her body as he held her into place over him. He worked magic on them, now being able to thrust up to meet Padmé, both girls moaned out loudly as they met their highs, pulling him with them.

“Anakin!” The moaned cumming on him, he himself released inside of Padmé as he walls tightened around him, his tongue lapped up (y/n)’s juices quickly, loving the taste he could never get enough of. This was his favorite way to have (y/n), with her on his face completely speechless to his motions. (Y/n) moved laying beside him he head falling on his arm as he pulled her into his side, as Padmé fell gently onto his chest, both Jedi wrapped their arms around her.

Soon after recovering from there fly to the heavens they all snapped back into reality, finding themselves in a giggling fit. (Y/n) laughed first as she remembered Anakin’s pleads. He rolled his eyes hearing her train of thought but laughed with her, Padmé soon joined them as she was told what they were laughing at.

They were happy with each other, wether they would admit it or not, they were happy being a secret to, all three knowing what would happen if they weren’t. They quickly fell asleep as tho, not bothering to clean up or move.

—

The next day, (y/n) was helping Obi-Wan prepare for their journey, and as he went on the ship to make sure it was ready she could hear footsteps behind her, turning to see Padmé walking towards her with Anakin. She smiled seeing them but the furrowed her brows questioning why they were here, they had already said there goodbyes this morning.

“Master Skywalker, Senator Padmé.” She said smiling at them kindly, “what do I owe the pleasure?” Anakin rolled his eyes and padme just smiled and hugged her.

“You forgot your lightsaber.” She said pulling away. When she did Anakin held it up in his hand,

“It took both of you to return my lightsaber?” She asked reaching for it only for Anakin to pull it out of her reach. She groaned and went for it again only for him to hold it above his head.

“Anakin!” She said looking up at him, she could sense something was wrong but couldn’t quite tell what.

“Where did you get this?” He asked holding it down so she could reach it but she didn’t move for it. She looked offended by his question and she was.

“It’s my lightsaber Anakin what do you mean?” She asked crossing her arms.

“Your lightsaber is a purple black handled lightsaber, one of its kind, only matched by master Windu’s.” He held out the blade in question but the handle was not as he described, this was silver, carved with beautiful markings that shined in the light of the suns, and it was longer. “This is not yours.” He said and she took it, attaching it to her belt as she felt Obi-wan’s presence come closer.

“I lost it.” She said, and soon felt a warm hand on her back, it angered Anakin and struck jealousy threw him but he covered it well.

“Shall we get going?” Obi-Wan said looking at them. They said their goodbyes and left shortly after, leaving padme and Anakin to their thoughts.

“That lightsaber was like her baby...” Padmé said looking up at Anakin. “She would have told us is she lost it.” Anakin furrowed his brows knowing Padmé was correct.

“It’s unlike her...”

[foreverfangirlalways]

What’s Your Name? (Chapter 2)

Chapter Title: Coffee, Cafes, and Conversations

Summery: Logan talks with Remy, and Virgil tells Patton about his encounter. Remy and Virgil also have a very interesting phone call.

Ships: Analogical, RemyxCriticxEmile, Moceit

Warning: teasing, threats, foreshadowing, pastshadowing(?), obvious gays being oblivious

-let me know if I need to add more warnings-

(please give some love to my wonderful cowriter @star-crossed-shipper, as well as @kuroyurishion, who has given me quite a few ideas for future chapters!)

/I totally projected my best friend and I’s dynamic onto Remy and Virgil’s dynamic, incase anyone is wondering why they act like they do!\

<A super mega thank you to @winterknight1087! They give me ideas on Remy’s partners and certain plot points for this chapter, including the bit about why Logan got a job working for Remy!>

*if you want, message me or comment with theories of what happens next! I’ll credit you of course, I just want readers input on how the story should go!*

—-

Logan had just finished restocking the sugar racks when Remy came busting through the door.

“What’s up bitches? Your favorite insomniatic slut is here and just got two cuties to love and cherish!”

Remy sat on the counter and Logan handed Remy his specialty coffee, totally not trying to butter him up or anything.

“Ah, my favorite employer. You have returned. So, how did your romantic endeavors go? Was my guess of woe correct?” Logan asked, watching Remy take a big gulp of his drink the sigh.

“Nope! It was what onderful! He was so sweet, likes cartoons, and even helps people! He’s an angel. I’ve been friends with him since middle school, and we were just catching up. His boyfriend is just like him, and we were actually partners in a few classes when I was still in college. We all met at the park and then went for brunch. I commented on how they look like such a happy couple and I wish I could have that, and then they invited me to join in their relationship! They both confessed to liking me and long story short, I am now in a polygamous relationship with my childhood friend Critic and my psychology partner Emile!”

“Wow.” Logan said, looking faintly surprised. “I’m impressed. You got two boyfriends and I didn’t even manage to get his name.”

Remy whipped around and hopped off the counter. He set down his drink and leaned over the counter with his chin atop his hands.

“So Logie,” Remy smirked, “whose the guy? You told me that you pride yourself on being able to make people trust you enough to get names from them without using your fae magic. That’s the whole reason you wanted this job. Well, aside from having the privilege of working for me, of course.”

Logan nodded. “I know. People typically throw their names at me way too trustingly, but I don’t think he trusts very easily. It’s a shame, he is extremely aesthetically appeasing. I even tried to non-magically charm him and it still didn’t work. He definitely has walls.”

Remy nods like he understands, but the smirk has yet to leave his face.

“Ooo, so Logan, who’s the hottie that evaded you and your flirting? Was he a regular?”

Logan shook his head. “I’ve never seen him before but he said he knows you.”

Remy raises his eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink.

“The name he gave me was Anxiety.”

“SPPPTTHTT!” Remy spewed out coffee. Logan looked alarmed, but Remy more so.

“No shit?! He visited? And I missed it? You think he’s hot? Oh, oh Logan. I’ve known Anx my whole life, he’s like a little brother. All I can say is good luck. And be patient.”

Logan wipes up the mess and responds. “I shall take your words into consideration. I’ll admit, I got frustrated because he has been the first to give me a false name, and I really wanted his name, but if it takes time for me to break down his walls it shall be time well spent.”

Remy nods and a very serious look passed over his face. He grabs Logan by the tie, pulling, and Logan is so startled he drops his rag.

“It will be time well spent because if you even so much as accidentally put too much foam into his ‘Damnit Karen’, I will fire you in more ways then one. Am I understood?”

“Perfectly.” Logan said while straitening his tie. He then got an idea.

“Say Remy, what did you say his name was again?”

Remy tilts his head.

“Anxiety?”

“No, you called him by another name.”

Remy thought for a moment the made an ‘o’ with his mouth.

“Anx? Yeah, that’s just a childhood nickname I gave-“

Remy looks at Logan slightly disappointingly and crosses his arms.

“...him. And if you want his true name, you can make him trust you enough to get it without using your magic. And if you try with any of your tricks, keep in mind that I know just what type of paralyzing  nightmares to send your way.”

Logan blinked and picked up his rag. Despite his particular stand as a fae, he does not like people to know of it, and he does not like to use his magic on people.

However, Remy knows of Logan’s standing and magical capabilities, and is the only person that can truly intimidate Logan.

“I can tell that Anxiety is very close to you. And you are extremely protective of him. I never had any intentions of using magic on him, and if anything, that decision has just been solidified.”

Remy looked satisfied with that response. He started to walk away, and in a burst of nervous energy, recklessness, and perhaps a slight death wish, Logan called out.

“Remy, wait.”

Remy turned around and raised his eyebrow.

“Yes?”

Logan swallowed and adjusted his glasses.

“I promise I will never use magic on him unless I have your permission and his consent, but I was wondering if you would mind if I... try to get his name using different tactics?”

Remy crosses his arms and steps forward. “What tactics?”

“... uhh, well, charming him? If that is approvable.”

Remy swiped his hand over his face and huffed out a laugh. Then the laugh got stronger and he flopped into the nearest chair.

“So let me get the stra- let me get this gay, you want my permission to flirt with my little brother?”

“Yes...?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “For such a smart person, you are a complete dumbass. Do you remember when I told you about one of my friends that I basically adopted and we were roommates before I opened up shop?”

“Yes, you told me that we would be a cute couple and your ‘otp’ ?”

“Uhuh, the friend is Anxiety.”

Logan’s mouth dropped open in shock. Remy shook his head, still chuckling.

“Yes, I give you permission to flirt.”

“Thank you Remy. Would you like me to keep you updated? I could ‘spill the tea’ as you say.”

“Oh, absolutely! Now, excuses me, I have a brother to call and get his side of the story. And we are going to talk afterwards too, so don’t go to far! I’m sure you want to know if he finds you hot too.”

Logan finished up an order and smirked. “Oh, he does.”

Remy walked to his office and laughed. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

-_-_-_-

Virgil left Bitchin’ Brews, he headed straight to Sunshine Daycare.

‘Alright, so, Patton gets off at 12, five minutes. He can give me advice...’

Virgil stood beside the entrance, and waited. Patton exited, saw Virgil, and ran to him.

“Virgil! Hi! What are you doing here?” Patton asked while hugging him.

“Hey Pat. I was wondering if you wanna have lunch together? I kinda want to talk to you about a few things...”

Patton nodded and looped his arm through Virgil’s. “Sounds perfect. Let’s go to The Mindpalace Cafe and chat!”

Once they were seated and ordered their drinks, Virgil cleared his throat.

“Ok, so, I wanted to talk to you and get advice about this thing that happened this morning. I went to go see Remy, but he was not there. There was the really attractive barista, and he told me Remy was out, getting a boyfriend or something.”

Patton nodded along, but was slightly confused.

“Ok I get that, but I don’t understand what’s wrong?”

“Well... he’s fae. He asked for my name, got upset when I said Anxiety, and completely blanched when I called him out on being fae.”

Patton instantly became concerned. He grabbed Virgil’s arm, started checking his pulse.

“Did he enchant you? Your pulse is normal, but did he? Is that what this is about? I’m so sorry Virgil, I can’t believe this happened aga-“

Virgil leaned over and pressed his hand to Patton’s mouth.

“No, nothing like that. He didn’t enchant me or anything, he just got a bit frustrated with me for not giving my name.”

Removing his hand and seeing that Patton’s still confused, he continued.

“I need you thoughts and advice because... he flirted with me to get my name. No enchant, regular flirting. I didn’t give it to him, of course, but how do I go back? That’s my favorite coffee shop, Remy is there, you are laughing. Why are you laughing?”

Patton composed himself and shook his head. “Virgil, sweetie, as one of your best friends I say this to you with the upmost respect... you’re kind of stupid.”

Virgil looked as insulted as he felt.

“Please don’t be offended Verge, I just don’t understand your problem. A person you find attractive, flirted with you, didn’t enchant or take advantage of you in anyway, and only got slightly offended. I see nothing wrong.”

Virgil couldn’t believe his ears. He rubbed his forehead, trying not to groan aloud.

“Seriously Pat? I’m anxious about everything! I don’t trust the fae, and I don’t know if I can trust the barista. How can I go to Remy’s if I can’t trust the person who works there?”

Patton pondered that. After a few moments, he held up a hand.

“Oh! I know!”

“Yes Patton?”

“Talk to Remy. If he has done nothing wrong, simply ask Remy if you think it would be wise to stay in contact with the cute barista. He will understand your concerns.”

Virgil was amazed. He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve and looked up.

“That’s great advice! Uhhh, I should have thought of it.”

Giggling, Patton patted Virgil on the head. “It’s ok, here’s a Patton pat. At least we get lunch!”

After lunch, Patton and Virgil parted. Virgil heads to his dorm, and his phone rings as soon as he shuts the door.

“Remy? Hey! What’s up?”

“Bitch, how the hell am I supposed to know? You never talk to me anymore!”

“Hey, don’t blame me, I came by today, and you weren’t there.”

Remy sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was at a brunch. Speaking of, do you remember Critic?”

Virgil removed his boots and jumped onto his bed.

“The Critic you wanted to ask to prom but chickened out? Both years?”

“Yes you asshole. That Critic. I thought I said we were never to mention that again?”

“No, you said you wouldn’t. I just got more ice cream for you.”

“ALRIGHT! Enough about that, anyways, the reason I asked was because I am now dating Critic and his boyfriend Emile.”

“The sa-“

“Yes! That Emile.”

Virgil laughed. “Alright, congrats dude! I’ll give them the brother talk next time I see them.”

“No, please don’t. Changing subject, what happened when you came to the shop?”

Taking a deep breath, Virgil prepared himself. “Well, I met your barista. He’s fae. And he asked for my name.”

“What happened? He didn’t do anything wrong, did he?” Remy asked, knowing full well what happened but still getting ready to commit murder if Virgil said yes.

“No no, nothing like that. He was a bit frustrated that I gave a fake name, but other than that everything seemed fine. I just don’t know what to do. He’s really attractive, but he’s also fae, and he works for you...”

Remy huffed out a laugh. “So, you think he’s attractive?”

“Really? That’s what you got? That I think he’s hot?”

“Yep!” Remy responded, popping the p.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil decided to take Patton advice. “Yes, but I’m not sure I can trust him. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t think I could continue to go to Bitchin’ Brews if I can’t trust the barista.”

“Verge, I’ve talked to him. I already knew about the meeting. He was a bit irked having not gotten your name, but that’s just because you were the first person to not freely give it to him. He has already swore to never enchant anyone at my shop, and he told me that he will never use any magic on you unless you ask first. It is up to you, but I think he’s a good guy.”

Virgil sighed, relieved and grateful for the good report.

“Oh, and one other thing,” Remy said, smirk evident in his voice. “He finds you hot as well.”

Virgil groaned and Remy laughed. They continued talking until around six, when Virgil was promptly told to, “go get some damn food in you, ya twig!”

Virgil eventually went to bed, and had decided that he would give the cute barista a chance, but definitely make him work for the name.

----

Gen Taglist-

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