#also — and i mean it this time — i will be posting twice today. it’s happening.

[m1d-45]

(i wanted to do one last one im sorry (/_;))

Dear Razor,

I hope this finds you well in the lands of Wolvendom. How have you been, dear? And how is Bennett? Not in any more cuts and bruises, I hope.

I know you always take care of Bennett whenever you adventure together but don't forget to take care of yourself, too! Both of you are like little brothers to me and I would hate to see you two injured. We are lupical, as you would always say.

I will return to Mondstadt soon, rest assured bringing gifts of course. Until then, I wish you bountiful hunts for you and the rest of your lupical. Can't wait to see you soon, dear. And pass this along to Bennett will you?

signed,

avo

(A tiny keychain crocheted version of him and Bennett lay inside the letter. Along with a small illustration of you and him)

(I love Razor sm btw. He's best boy and I will protect him at all costs)

razor sat among his pack, absentmindedly picking leaves or shedding pieces of fur from their coats whenever he got bored. night watch was quiet, peaceful, an easy time to think when opposed to the busy bustle of daytime. though it wasn’t good for him to take every watch, he did volunteer for them more often than the other wolves.

the night was calm, the trees thin enough to allow enough light through that he could see, but thick enough that no enemies should see him sitting up in the cave. occasionally a wind would sweep through, a chill creeping up his arms, but he would simply sink them into whoever’s fur was closest and wait for the wind to pass. it always did, even in mondstat.

razor stood up, carefully picking his way out of the cave. at the mouth, he stretched, feeling his gloves brush the stone at the top. one downside of night watch was the tension that came with constantly being on alert. it was a necessary evil, as a sleeping pack was a vulnerable one, and he was always sure to rid of any excess. the last thing he needed was a cramp or a strained muscle when an enemy-

leaves rustled, and he barely had to think before reaching for his claymore, already on the handle and ready to pull.

the bushes were still. it could be a squirrel, or a bird. something harmless. small. it was rare, but it had happened before, and that detail alone kept him from waking the others.

when the intruder appeared, it was not a clear threat. but, it was no squirrel either. it came from above, a second sun falling from the branches in slow motion. it spun in midair as he watched, ridding itself of the leaf that had landed on top of it.

razor hesitated. did he call it? it… seemed harmless, drifting towards him at a lazy pace. the wind picked up, from the star towards him, carrying a familiar smell. so it was from someone he knew…

carefully, he let the ball fall into his cupped hands, looking up at where it came from. the leaves would occasionally part, but he didn’t see anybody or anything up there. just the night sky, with a few falling stars streaking across the thin patches he could see.

stars…

he looked back down at his hands, but the ‘star’ was gone. two small doll-like plushes rested in his hands, attached to hooks and laying on a bed of paper, with lettering for sheets. the figures looked familiar, but he quickly turned his attention to the words themselves.

your letter wasn’t long, but with the amount of times he reread it it might have been. he knew you—just because he lived with the wolves didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of the one who made them, boreas would have his hide otherwise—but not why you would send him a letter. he did not need your writing to know he was one of your favored. he did not need a star to tell him he was cared for. you had done that on your own, with your kind words when bringing him and bennett on your journey, when you blessed him with claws of iron and teeth of thunder.

still, he held your gifts close, smiling slightly at your drawing. maybe, you would come visit him in wolvendom, and his lupical would be complete.

[damnprecious]

the only downside to not wearing shoes indoors really do be the fact that if you need to get the fuck out of a place fast bc you're upset for some reason, you have to either stop the process of storming out to put your shoes on or grab the shoes and gtfo just in your socks

[inkskinned]

it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

[countcvnt]

Experiment

Chapter Two: Bad Dreams

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

[Ch. One]

Summary: You realize, while asleep, that just because you're out of the facility doesn't mean you're completely free. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, mentions of blood and vomiting (nothing too graphic), Angsty Simon Word Count: ~3.5k (don't quote me on that) A/N: Was gonna wait to post this, but it's on my AO3 already (i posted this first ch. a couple days ago on there, but am just posting it here now) so i wanna post it here too. I have Covid, and time to write, so why not post it now? Hope you enjoy~ The angst is only going to pick up from here tbh

You toss and turn in bed. Your covers are strewn across the room and you’re sweating. Your eyes are screwed shut as you lie there whimpering. You can’t even force yourself awake.

“You are not acting very nice.”

Your gaze does not even meet the scientist’s. His eyes bore into yours, but you can not force yourself to look at him. Instead, you stare at the floor. Your mind is racing, you are everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Did you hear me?” He asks. You nod. “Then act better.” He marks something down on his clipboard and you watch him closely now. “Next time, there will be no warning. You will be punished.”

You nod again. Your hands rest on your thighs, gripping your bare thighs and shaking violently. Your whole body is shaking. At this point, you can’t think of a time you weren’t shaking. Your eyes cut from the man’s hands and up to him. You see the reflection of the bright lights of the lab in his glasses. You sniffle slightly.

“You look sick.” He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours. You don’t look away this time. “After all this-” He motions around him. “That won’t happen anymore. You won’t have to worry about silly little sickness or your immune system at all. You know, after all of this, you will be the best.”

If it works, You think. You are almost certain you should have died by now. You have absolutely no clue what they have been injecting you with. You know it makes you sick. That’s about the extent of your knowledge. Well, you also know, you can die at any given moment. Whether the medicine or the guards around you takes you. Something can happen any time, and you just have to let it happen.

You remember lying in your ‘room’, throwing up blood and bile. No one checked on you. Not until the next round of testing. They gave you nausea medicine and you only hoped it’d work. Now, you're staring down the scientist who has ‘stuck by your side’ through all of the experiments. He is the only one who survived, you think. There have been several others. But you only saw them once or twice.

You aren’t sure if or how they died. You don’t like to think about it.

“We are going to test pain tolerance today.”

You perk up, in the least enthusiastic way possible. It caught your attention and set your skin ablaze. What does this entail? You can’t help but run through scenarios in your mind. The scientist pulls out a smaller syringe and places a needle in it. It’s full of a clear liquid. You don’t move. You’ve learned it’s best to not move.

He motions for you to hold out your arm. You do so, willingly. You’ve also learned it’s best to do as you’re told. He injects the needle into a vein and you try to stay relaxed. You whimper and shut your eyes. Suddenly, everything is on fire. Your body burns. A scream releases from your throat and you fall from the metal stool you had been sitting on. You curl up, clawing, scratching at your skin.

You begin to beg, “Please!” You scream for someone to stop it. “Please, help me!”

“Don’t worry,” His voice is so monotone. “It’ll pass. This is completely normal.”

You sit there, screaming and crying as the pain grows worse. You wonder if you yell loud enough if the guards would step in. But, so far, no one has stepped in. No. One. You can’t count on anyone. Not anymore. Your clawing slows down, the burning subsides. You relax and let out a small whimper. You sit up and inhale slowly. You slump over and look up at the man in front of you.

“Better?” He asks. You nod. “Good, now get back up.” You follow his instructions. “Now, I have a scalpel here. I’m going to poke you-” Your eyes widen. “-I’m not going to stab, or cut deep. I’m just checking pain levels.”

You sit back on the stool and hold your arm out again. The man grabs the scalpel from the side table and pokes into your arm. Blood rises and drips down. You feel pressure from the poke, but nothing else. You don’t react. You soon find out, maybe you should have.

“Hm, nothing?” Everything seems to be going according to plan for him and whoever was coordinating this. “Okay, next test.”

The scalpel is dug into your skin. Dull pain comes to the area, but you aren't feeling anything you should be feeling. You are too startled to scream. Blood rushes down your forearm and your eyes widen. You have learned to not pull away, so you stay there.

“Astounding…” He grabs the gauze from the small table and wraps your arm. “We will continue testing this in the morning.” He motions for some guards to come in. “I have to make sure that this… This is permanent.”

“If it’s not?” The words slip out.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

The words, his tone, they send chills up your spine. You are grabbed, harshly, by the guards and pulled into the hallway, out of the little, ‘cozy’ lab. Your eyes adjust to the dim lights of the hall and you squint. You are dragged to your ‘room’. The guard flashes his card in front of the door and it slides open. They toss you in, you hit the floor. There is no pain this time.

You want so badly for that to be a good thing. You can’t help but feel sick to your stomach though. You crawl to your mattress and lay down. You don’t even have a cover. You sigh. You curl up and go to sleep.

You wake in a cold sweat. A scream rips from your throat and your body tenses. Your breathing is ragged and a knock is coming from your door. You look towards it. You examine your surroundings. You exhale trying to calm yourself.

“Ace!” The knocking becomes violent.

Your brows furrow. You stand from your bed and walk towards the door. You swing it open and find Gaz standing there. His eyes lock with yours, before falling to your sweaty, sticky form.

“Who’s Ace?” You ask, not caring that he is probably staring at your chest.

“Sorry,” He mumbles and tries to close your door. “I shouldn’t-”

“No,” You swat at his hand, opening the door further. “Who is Ace?” A cool breeze hits your bare legs and you realize why he’s being so funny. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ and you step back. You remember that you’re wearing your tank top and panties. You grab your shorts and throw them on. “I’m Ace, aren’t I?” You finally ask.

“That is… Was your call sign.”

You notice Gaz swallow hard. You can’t help but wonder what has him so shook up. He had to have seen some thighs and cleavage before. It registers, he must not have seen yours. You make note of that.

“It’s okay, Gaz,” You reassure him, “I promise it’s fine if you look at me.” You’re trying to not laugh. You can’t help but smile though. His eyes cut from the floor and up to you.

“Are you laughing at me?” He asks, you can see him grow embarrassed and irritated.

“You’re being silly,” Your smile widens. You watch Gaz relax. You cock your head. “Acting like I’m the first pair of thighs you’ve seen in your life.”

Gaz groans. “You don’t like-” He stops himself. “You used to not be comfortable with us seeing you like this. I don’t wanna overstep any boundaries.”

“You’re very sweet, Kyle.” He lights up as you call him by his name. “I do remember being that way though… I had always been that way ever since I can remember.” Which isn’t very much, you decide it would be best to not joke about that though. “But, I guess becoming a little lab rat kinda nipped that in the bud.”

Gaz doesn’t ask further questions. “I came to check on you, because you’re thirty minutes late.”

“Let me guess,” you purse your lips, “I used to never be late.”

Gaz is at a loss for words. “Well, no! You and Price were always first at debriefings.”

You note that as well. “I guess I need to change?” You question him. Gaz keeps from dropping eye contact. You are sure you need to change. Going to whatever you needed to go to, with nothing but a tank top and shorts on would probably not be the best look on your first real day back. “I’m fucking with you, Gaz.” You turn from him and he huffs. You grab some clothes from the dresser. Gaz excuses himself and you decide it’s best to not fuck with him further.

As he closes your door, you begin to mentally prepare yourself for what the day holds. You know you’ll be digging up old memories. You know recent wounds will resurface. You have to prepare now. You run through different questions and answers.

You're on autopilot as you get dressed. You finish up and walk back towards your door. You swing it open and find Gaz waiting. “Oh, you’re still here.”

“Figured you’d need help finding the room. Unless you don’t-”

“No, no,” You interrupt, “I don’t- I don’t know where the room is.” Having to admit that hurts. Gaz catches that. He doesn’t say anything further. You follow him down the hall and through a corridor. You reach a double door and Gaz lets you in first. You spot Price, then Soap, then Ghost. Every last one of them seems uncomfortable.

You walk into the middle of the room and stand there. The door closes behind Gaz and he walks up beside you. You stand there waiting for anyone to say something. No one breaks the silence, so you decide to.

“I don’t think I like sleeping alone.” You look at Price. “I haven’t- I didn’t have a roommate in the-” You keep stopping yourself. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a roommate. I don’t know how I'd react to one. But I can not sleep alone.”

Price nods. “That can be fixed.” He is reassuring. “We'll get you set up with-”

“I want it to be one of you.” You interrupt him. All of them tense. “I know I don't remember much of anything… but you four seem to know me the best. I want it to be one of you four.” You nod to yourself as you say the last sentence.

“Do you have a preference?” Price seems like he isn't judging who you pick, but you can't help but feel like they're all judging which one you pick.

“How about-” You place a finger on your chin. “We could alternate?”

“Alternate sleeping arrangements?” Ghost speaks up.

“That can be arranged.” Price nods. “We can talk more about that later. We really need to figure out what you do know.”

“Easy,” you shrug, “I know I have a mom and dad- We moved a lot growing up. I know that I used to be self conscious.” You remember this morning.

“Used to be?” Soap asks.

“Well, yeah, being stuck in a lab changes a person.” The whole room becomes uncomfortable. “Sorry…”

“It's alright, love,” Gaz pats you on the back, and you look at him. You don't tense. You don't attack. You just stare. Your stomach flips out how he says ‘love’. “But that's not what he meant. Do you have any information on what was happening?”

You inhale slowly and close your eyes. “Okay. I don't know where I was. But I do know people came and… uh went. A lot. Do I know where they went? No. I'm assuming the guards took care of them. It was too important for people to just come and go as they pleased. The experiments were too-” You pause. “Classified. But the scientist that was with me when Soap saved me, that was my main scientist. I never got anyone's name. They said I would get, uh, stuff like that if the experiments fully worked. I'm not sure they ever had it work though-”

“On others?” Ghost interrupts. You nod. “There were others?”

“Yeah. I mean, I think so. I overheard a couple times, of different,” you pause again, thinking of what they called you, “subjects just… dying. In reality, I don't know why I'm not dead. I also believe there were more because I was dubbed Subject Five. There were, I assume, four before me. Unless they just wanted to call me Five.” You shrug, growing uncomfortable. “I do know, for a fact, they were only getting military personnel.”

“Dae ye ken how come thay picked ye?” Soap is about as uncomfortable as you are now.

“Not entirely. But the scientist had said that I was compliant. I was… pliable, that is the word he used when I walked in for the very first round of testing. He didn't want me. He made that very known. But he had me, so he did everything he could to make everything work. It wasn't always smooth. But,” you shrug, “it is what it is.”

You see Ghost shift. He looks angry. It's making you more uncomfortable. “What do you mean, it wasn't always smooth?”

“The testing was extensive. The amount of times I've been poked and jabbed is unknown at this point. I mean,” you roll your head to the side, exposing your neck, “I have little scars littering my body from… everything.”

Price can tell you're growing tense. “Have you eaten this morning?”

“Not hungry.” You respond, trying to seem as normal as possible. “But, I would like to shower… I haven't had a hot shower in, uh, four months. I only ever got cold ones.”

“One of us can show you where-”

“No, no,” you wave your hand, “I saw it earlier. I'm sure I can find it myself. You four probably have a lot to talk about. I'll be out of your hair now.” You force a smile.

You exit the room and head back to your room. That probably wasn't going to be your room much longer. You grab some clothes and head towards the showers.

Your head hurts and you want nothing but to sit in hot steam and scrub yourself under scalding hot water. You make your way into the showers and find it empty. You sigh. You go into one of the little showers and close the door. You turn on the water and relax as the warmth hits you. You groan and roll your head back. It's the nicest you have felt in months. ——————————— Simon has not felt so angry in so long. He wants to find who did this to you and kill them. Every single one of them. The way you had seemed to shrink when talking about what happened. How you look to be a shell of your former self. And how you probably don't even remember your former self.

“What do you mean we are going to alternate sleeping arrangements?” Johnny asks. Simon wants to know how it’s going to work too.

“That’s up to her.” Price finally says. “I’m assuming she’ll pick one of us to stay with during the night. We can change it every night. Or however often she needs.”

Simon needs you to pick him. But, he also hopes you don’t. Your last interaction with him has seemed to have left a horrible taste in his mouth. He wants to protect you so badly, still. Maybe you don’t need it now, or anymore. But he has to. Even if you don’t remember what happened.

“Simon,” Price’s voice is low, soft, reassuring. “This is not your fault.”

“You keep saying that.” He growls. “You weren’t there. I was. End of story.”

Simon plays the night over and over in his head. Every day. Ever since you were taken. The night at the safe house. It was you and him… It could have been him they snatched up. But it had to be you. He can’t stop thinking about how differently it could have been if it were him they took. He isn’t so pliable… His blood is boiling.

“Ghost,” Johnny speaks, bringing him back down, “she’s okay now.” He places a hand on Simon’s shoulder and tries to reassure him. Everyone is so reassuring… Simon wishes they would stop. He isn’t used to not being able to contain himself. And yet, here he stood. Seething. Ready to bash the heads in of anyone who even thought about bringing harm to you. He can’t take it.

“Fuck this.” He needs to clear his head. “I gotta go.”

Price, Johnny, and Kyle let him leave. Simon thinks maybe a hot shower would help him as well. He inhales deeply as he walks towards the showers. The door swings open and Simon realizes there is only one shower running. Good. All he can hear is water. Steam covers the room. It’s practically a sauna. The water stops running.

Then he hears it. Soft humming. A hum he knows he’s heard before.

Memories are flooding back. Your fingers running through his hair, his head on your chest, and your soft hums the only thing he can hear. Suddenly he can’t breathe. He’s frozen. He’s moving in autopilot momentarily. He’s making his way towards you. He spots you. A towel is wrapped tightly around you and your back is to him. Your hums turn to singing and Simon reaches you. He opens his mouth to speak and he realizes too late he has startled you.

He’s reaching for your shoulder when your hand grabs him. You swing him around and slam him into the concrete wall. Every bit of breath is knocked out of Simon. Your hand is on his throat and your eyes are dark. Simon notes they’re way darker than he’s ever seen.

“Oh. It’s you.”

“You’re in the men’s showers.”

Simon watches as your face drops. You look around. “No one was in here. I didn’t- My brain was too foggy.”

Simon’s hands are up. He relaxes as you let him go and his eyes don’t leave yours as you fix the towel covering you. His eyes briefly drop and he looks at the scars littering your skin. You were right. They’re mostly smaller scars, but there is one on your forearm, right under the bend of your elbow. There was force behind that one.

“Should have let us show you where it was.” He smiles under his mask. You look embarrassed. “I’ll make sure no one comes in, if you wanna get dressed, love.”

It slips out. Naturally. He tenses as the word leaves his lips. Love… His back is to you as you get dressed. He does not dare peek. As he begins to relax, words leave your mouth causing him to tense all over again.

“Ghost?”

He wants you to call him Simon. “Hm.”

“Gaz called me ‘love’ earlier too… I know it’s a British thing, but the way you both said it-” Simon tenses as you pause. “What were we? All of us?”

Simon really does not know how to answer that. He can easily tell you about him and Johnny, or about Price and Gaz. But you? Fuck, it was confusing. He didn’t entirely know what you were with the others. But he did know the both of you were close. But, never like that…

He says your name. His eyes shut. “That’s complicated.”

“Hm…” He hears you hum. “You can turn around now.”

Simon turns to find you approaching him. You’re dressed and holding your towel in your hands. “Sorry about earlier… I don’t know what happened. I didn’t know it was you-”

“It’s fine.” Simon motions for you to walk in front of him, letting you leave before him. He watches you closely. He wonders if you can feel his eyes on you. If you can, you don’t say anything. Simon wants nothing more than to reach out, rest his hand on the small of your back, and walk you to where you’re going. He refrains.

“I’m sort of hungry now…” Your words bring Simon back. “Can you show me to the cafeteria?”

Simon nods, “Of course.”

He walks in front of you. His body begins to lead the way, while his brain is stuck on you slamming him into the wall. He can’t stop thinking about it now. Processing it. You looked absolutely feral, and a little terrified. He tenses, his fingers curling into his palms, as he thinks about what happened to you to make you that way.

Simon doesn’t want to have to go through the pain of remembering certain things. But he hopes that if you do remember who snatched you up, that you will tell him who it was. So that he can cause them just as much turmoil.

[thejoyofseax]

Why We Can't Have Medieval Food

I noted in a previous post that I'd "expand on my thinking on efforts to reproduce period food and how we’re just never going to know if we have it right or not." Well, now I have 2am sleep?-never-heard-of-it insomnia, so let's go.

At the fundamental level, this is the idea that you can't step in the same river twice. You can put your foot down at the same point in space, and it'll go into water, but that's different water, and the bed of the river has inevitably changed, even a little, from the last time you did so.

Our ingredients have changed. This is not just because we can't get the fat from fat-tailed sheep in Ireland, or silphium at all anywhere, although both of those are true. But the aubergine you buy today is markedly different to the aubergine that was available even 40 years ago. You no longer need to salt aubergine slices and draw out the bitter fluids, which was necessary for pretty much all of the thing's existence before (except in those cultures that liked the bitter taste). The bitterness has been bred out of them. And the old bitter aubergine is gone. Possibly there are a few plants of it preserved in some archive garden, or a seed bank, or something, but I can't get to those.

We don't really have a good idea of the plant called worts in medieval English recipes. I mean, we know (or we're fairly sure) it was brassica oleracea. But that one species has cultivars as distinct as cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, kale, Brussels sprouts, collard greens, Savoy cabbage, kohlrabi, and gai lan (list swiped from Wikipedia). And even within "cabbage" or "kale", you have literally dozens of varieties. If you plant the seeds from a brassica, unless you've been moderately careful with pollination, you won't get the same plant as the seeds are from. You can crossbreed brassicas just by planting them near each other and letting them flower. And of course there is no way to determine what varietal any medieval village had, a very high likelihood that it was different to the village next door, and an exceedingly high chance that that varietal no longer exists. Further, it only ever existed for a few tens of years - before it went on cross-breeding into something different. So our access to medieval worts (or indeed, cabbage, kale, etc) is just non-existant.

Some other species within the brassica genus are as varied. Brassica rapa includes oilseed rape, field mustard, turnip, Chinese cabbage, and pak choi.

We have an off-chance, as it happens, of getting almost the same kind of apple as some medieval varieties, because apples can only be reproduced for orchard use by grafting, which is essentially cloning. Identification through paintings, DNA analysis, and archaeobotany sometimes let us pin down exactly which apple was there. But the conditions under which we grow those apples are probably not the same as the medieval orchard. Were they thinned? When were they harvested? How were they stored? And apples are pretty much the best case.

Medieval wheat was practically a different plant. It was far pickier about where it would grow, and frequently produced 2-4 grains per stalk. A really good year had 6-8. In modern conditions, any wheat variety with less than 30 grains per stalk would be considered a flop.

Meats are worse. Selective breeding in the last century has absolutely and completely changed every single species of livestock, and if you follow that back another five centuries, some of them would be almost unrecognisable. Even our heritage breeds are mostly only about 200 years old.

Cheese, well. Cheese is dependent on very specific bacteria, and there are plenty of conditions where the resulting cheese is different depending on whether it was stored at the back or front of the cave. Yogurts, quarks, skyrs, etc, are also live cultures, and almost certainly vary massively. (I have a theory about British cheese here, too, which I'll expand on in a future post)

So, even before you go near the different cooking conditions (wood, burnables like camel and cow dung, smoke, the material and condition of cooking pots), we just can't say with any reliability that the food we're making now is anything like medieval people produced from the same recipe. We can't even say that with much reliability over a century.

Under very controlled conditions, you could make an argument for very specific dishes. If you track down a wild mountain sheep in Afghanistan, and use water from a local spring, and salt from some local salt mine, then you can make a case that you can produce something fairly close to the original ma wa milh, the water-and-salt stew that forms the most basic dish in Arabic cookery. But once you start introducing domestic livestock, vegetables, or even water from newer wells, you're now adrift.

It is possible that some dishes taste exactly the same, by coincidence. But we can't determine that. We can't compare the taste of a dish from five years ago, let alone five hundred, because we're only just getting to a state where we can "record" a taste accurately. Otherwise it's memory and chance.

We've got to be at peace with this. We can put in the best efforts we can, and produce things that are, in spirit, like the medieval dishes we're reading about. But that's as good as it gets.

[floralcyanide]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 ✲ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

Virgin!Charlie Walker x AFAB!Reader (NSFW)

You go to your friend's party not expecting much from it. Except, while there, you run into Charlie, a guy you've known all your life but have never got to know. One of his secrets is revealed, much to his embarrassment. You go to comfort him, and one thing leads to another. (both Charlie and reader are 18+.)

warnings: smut, nsfw, loss of virginity, mentions of virginity, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), nipple/breast play, hair pulling, overstimulation, mentions of alcohol, drinking alcohol, reader is kinda experienced but just barely, afab!reader, descriptions of female anatomy, Charlie and reader are 18+

word count: 4890 (I'm,,,, yeah)

author's note: hello I cannot believe I typed most of this out today. I was possessed by the writing demon fr. I also can't believe it's as long as it is but ya know,,, I gotta give y'all the Charlie smut you wanted. so here it is. if you enjoy, please reblog/ like (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Playing truth or dare wasn’t on your list of things to do tonight at this party, but it may as well happen. 

You’re sitting criss cross on the floor of the living room, your back pressed against the front of the couch. Your best friend decided throwing one of their iconic parties before Spring Break would be fun, and they begged you to attend. And, of course, you couldn’t say no to them. So here you are in their living room with a Smirnoff Ice in your hand, waiting for someone to spin the bottle on the floor again. It only landed on you twice, and you picked truth both times. The questions were relatively tame, but the drunker everyone in the circle got and the more people who joined, the rowdier it got. You notice a guy you went to primary school with sitting across from you, with his forearm casually resting on his knee as he sips a beer with his free hand. He pretended to be looking elsewhere whenever a sexual question was brought up. Good old Charlie, the quiet and polite kid who was always good at math and oddly enough, film class. You two had been in school together since Kindergarten, and now you’re in university together and have yet to really talk. Sure, you’ve run into him at some places or have seen him around campus, chatting with him here and there, but nothing has ever broken the surface. You’ve yet to have a meaningful conversation with him. Both of you were partners in science class during your junior year of high school, but you weren’t close by any means. You push away your thoughts when you realize the bottle has now landed on you.

You take a large swig of your drink, “Oh boy.”

Luckily, your best friend is the one who spun the bottle. You hope whatever challenge or question they shoot at you will be tolerable. 

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

“Hmm,” you think about this one momentarily and decide on a whim, “Dare.”

Your best friend eyes your still fairly full drink, “You just got iced! I dare you to chug the rest of your drink.”

Getting “iced” means if someone sees you holding a Smirnoff Ice, they can “ice” you by saying you have to chug the rest of your drink no matter how full it is. It’s a trend around campus, and it annoys you to no end as you drink Smirnoff Ice sometimes.

You roll your eyes and sigh, “Fine.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin chugging your drink. Thank god it’s your favorite flavor and not something stronger. Everyone is chanting for you to chug, and you do, trying not to laugh at how embarrassing it is to have all these people watching you. Some of the alcohol dribbles down your chin when you finish the rest of the bottle. The circle cheers, and the people next to you pat you on the back while everyone else gives a thumbs up. You feel a little rush to your head as you carefully place your hand on the bottle in the middle of the group, prepared to spin it. Once it lands, it lands on your other friend Kirby. You’re somewhat surprised she’s even playing truth or dare with you all, but you weren’t going to stop her.

“Truth or dare, Kirb?”

“Dare, of course,” Kirby smiles deviously, a little tipsy from whatever is in her solo cup.

“I dare you to kiss someone in the circle. It can be anyone,” you say after pondering for a moment.

It was a mild dare compared to some of the ones people have created in the group. Someone dared one girl to take off her shirt, and someone else dared your best friend to shotgun from the guy next to them. Now your best friend was buzzed on not only alcohol but some weed as well. So you’re somewhat shocked they didn’t choose a wilder dare for you to do.

Kirby looks surprised you’d choose a dare that consisted of anything intimate, but she shrugs it off before leaning toward Jill. You’re also surprised Jill is in the circle, but she claimed she just wanted to watch people embarrass themselves. Until the bottle landed on her for the first time, now, she’s slightly drunk and in the game. She and Kirby kiss for a few seconds, but you doubt it’s the first time they’ve done so. Kirby pulls away as some guys holler at the sight. She flips them off before spinning the bottle. This time, it lands on Charlie. A part of you fears for him because Kirby can be unpredictable.

“Truth or dare, Charlie?” Kirby asks, tapping her chin excitedly.

“Uh,” Charlie furrows his eyebrows, “Truth?”

Kirby grins like she had been hoping he’d choose truth, “When was the last time you got blown?”

“Blown?” Charlie asks, a little confused.

“Yeah. Blown. Like, a blowjob. When was the last time you got one of those, Charlie?” Kirby asks seriously, and everyone is paying close attention to what Charlie is about to say.

“Oh. I don’t know? I’ve never really,” Charlie clears his throat, “I’ve never really done anything like that.”

“Really?” Kirby asks, shocked, and a few people giggle.

“How about you ask a different question?” Charlie says, shifting around nervously.

“Okay. Are you a virgin?”

More people in the circle laugh, and everyone looks directly at Charlie, making his face go red as he curls into himself.

“That’s enough, Kirb,” you say gently, your eyes flickering between her and Charlie, “Maybe ask something not sexual in nature?”

“Right. Sorry,” Kirby cringes, but Charlie is already moving to get up from where he’s sitting.

You go to say something to him as he steps around you to walk to the kitchen, but he moves too fast.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Kirby, I know you like making Charlie squirm, but that was uncalled for.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t know he was a virgin,” Kirby frowns, staring into her drink.

“Maybe you should apologize,” you say, “I’ll go talk to him first and make sure he’s okay.”

“That’s a good idea,” your best friend nods.

You stand up and try to collect yourself for a moment as the alcohol makes your head swim. That Smirnoff was your third tonight, and you can tell that chugging it was a bad idea. But your vision clears, and you begin to walk to the kitchen. There are a few people crowded in there, talking and drinking. But no sight of Charlie. You wander to the patio and spot him sitting on the porch swing outside. You quietly open the sliding door and shut it behind you, walking toward the swing. 

“Hey,” you say, almost inaudible as you sit down next to Charlie.

“Hi,” he says awkwardly, tucking hair behind his ear as his eyes burn into his thighs.

“Are you okay? Sometimes Kirby doesn’t know when to shut up,” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at your friend’s behavior.

“I’m fine. It’s just not something I wanted everyone to know,” Charlie chuckles lightly.

“I understand. If it helps, I didn’t lose my virginity in high school like everyone, either. But I’m glad I waited until adulthood if that makes sense,” you say, trying to relate to Charlie a little.

You were in your sophomore year of college when you had your first serious partner, which led to you, of course, having sex. You were about to be 21, and felt like you had waited forever by that point. But the peer pressure and movies made sex seem totally different from what it actually was. But you were glad that you waited until you were more mature. Not everyone does, and you think that’s okay, just as long as there was consent. 

“Really? You didn’t lose it in high school?” Charlie finally turns to you, his face twisted into confusion.

“I was about twenty on twenty-one. Not long ago, but yeah,” you shrug, pushing your legs so that the swing moves slightly backward, “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be- the sex stuff. Honestly it’s nothing like porn, tv, or the movies. It’s awkward and silly and sometimes uncomfortable.”

Charlie nods slowly, “What is like, then? For someone with female anatomy, anyway.”

“If you're, you know, prepared, it doesn’t hurt. It’s like a feeling of fullness and then when they find the g spot with their fingers or whatever, it’s even better,” you feel your face burning at the thought of it all.

“G spot?”

You dare to look Charlie in the eye, “Yeah it’s a spot inside the vagina that gives you pleasure when it’s caressed or pushed into,” you give him an awkward smile.

“Oh,” Charlie laughs, “Sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable or anything. I just don’t know much. I mean I know the basics, but,” he trails off, looking at your lips for a moment before tearing his eyes away.

“Basics, hmm?” you lean in toward Charlie, letting your knee touch his as you push the swing with your feet, moving it backward again, “What would those be?”

“Like where to touch someone kind of? I mean I’ve seen videos but none of that is real,” Charlie says, his face now slightly red.

The alcohol still burns in your veins, making your brain feel happily cloudy and a little braver than usual.

“And where would you touch someone?” you ask, now letting your thigh completely press against Charlie’s, your bodies now closer in proximity.

Charlie lets his shoulder touch yours, “Well, I know some people like being kissed on their ears,” he turns to you again, tucking some hair behind your ear softly.

“Yes,” you nod, slowly reaching your hand up to the ends of Charlie’s hair, “What about here, Charlie? Know anything about hair and what you can do with it?”

Charlie hesitates, “You can pull hair because some people like that.”

“Do you like it Charlie?” you look up and notice how close your faces are to one another, letting your eyes dart from his lips to his eyes.

“I don’t know, really. I feel like I would,” Charlie nods, trying his best not to stutter as he stares at your lips blatantly.

You let go of Charlie’s hair before sliding a cautious hand through his front bangs and letting your fingers root to his scalp. His breath hitches at the feeling of your touch.

“I feel like I definitely would,” Charlie repeats, clearing his throat as he lets his hand rest on your knee, “Is this okay?”

You chuckle, “Yes. Is it okay that I’m touching your hair?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie answers quickly.

“Do you want to see what it feels like to have it pulled a little?” you ask, your eyes landing on his lips once again.

They look so kissable and biteable. You always have thought Charlie was fairly cute, but never really gave it much thought or acted on it, until now. After all, you’re both a little tipsy and this is a college party you’re at. Why not have a little fun?

“Yes,” Charlie says, closing his eyes and letting his lips finally brush against yours.

You capture his lips with yours softly, lifting your free hand to rest upon Charlie’s jaw. His hand on your knee travels up your thigh until it’s on your hip, squeezing lightly as you deepen the kiss. Charlie places his other hand behind your head, pushing you closer to him as you run your tongue along his bottom lip. He lets you in, letting you take total control of the kiss. Charlie knows how to kiss, and he can kiss well, but he’d rather let you do whatever you wanted. If he’s honest, he would let you do anything to him, and he’s always felt this way. And that weird classmate crush he’s had on you is blossoming further with every second that passes as you kiss. 

Swirling your tongue around Charlie’s, you wait for the perfect moment to tug at his hair. The kiss is growing into a sloppy makeout and you can tell Charlie is getting turned on, You bite at his lip, tugging on it as he lets out a small moan. When he does this, you decide to pull on his hair a little, causing his moan to grow louder.

You pull away from the kiss, trying not to laugh, “Are you okay?”

“I’m- I’m fine,” Charlie whispers, his lips are swollen and red and his pupils are slightly larger than before.

“You sure?” you ask, your hand still on his face as your thumb traces along his jawline, “I know somewhere we can go that’s more private if no one is already in there.”

“Like where?” Charlie asks.

“My best friend has a guest room I usually camp out in when I stay over,” you say, standing up from the swing, offering a hand out to Charlie, “Care to join?”

Charlie looks at you, then your hand, before taking it, “Lead the way.” 

You hold his hand until you get to the sliding door, “I’ll go first, so watch which direction I head to when I get up the stairs. Then whenever you’re ready, come on up.”

“Okay,” Charlie nods, fighting a giddy smile.

“Is everything okay?” your best friend approaches you immediately once you and Charlie walk through the door.

“Yep. We’re all good,” you say.

“Most of the party is gone. You can stay here if you’d like,” your best friend says, looking between you and Charlie nonchalantly.

“Cool. I think I’ll head upstairs, then. Charlie and I are still talking, so,” you trail off, “Don’t mind us.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” your best friend winks.

“Yeah, that isn’t very much though,” you joke with them before dragging Charlie upstairs and not bothering to sneak him in.

Once both of you are upstairs and in the room, you shut the door and lock it before turning on the bedside lamp. Charlie sits on the bed, his hands clasped together nervously. You walk over to him, shedding your jacket and tossing it to the end of the bed. Standing directly in front of him, his knees touching yours, you card your hand through his hair again. Charlie’s eyes flutter shut and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“So do you like having your hair pulled now?” you ask, and Charlie looks so nervous that he’s gonna burst.

“Can you remind me of how it feels?” Charlie looks up at you, innocence flashing in his eyes.

You pull Charlie’s hair enough to where his head moves back, exposing his neck to you. He hums in content and you can’t help but start kissing along the side of his throat. You nip a little at his skin, running your tongue over the places you sink your teeth. Enough for him to feel it, but not enough to leave a mark. You squeeze your fingers into an open fist, pulling Charlie’s hair at a different angle. Just as he’s about to let out a noise, you move the top of his shirt down and bite down below his collarbone, sucking at the skin until it’s red. Charlie then lets out an actual moan, which makes your stomach turn. 

“Feel good?” you ask, moving your hand from his hair and to his hip, sliding it up his shirt.

“Yes,” Charlie sighs, “Very.”

“Do you want to keep going? We don’t have to if you don’t want-”

“I do. I want to keep going.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret your first time,” you say.

“I won’t regret it, especially if it’s with you,” Charlie blushes.

A smile grows on your face, “Really? And you aren’t saying that just to get in my pants?”

“No,” Charlie chuckles, “I”m not just saying it to get in your pants. I like you.”

“Well in that case,” you slide your other hand under Charlie’s shirt, “Where else do you know to touch someone, Charlie?”

Charlie shifts underneath you, unsure what to do with his hands, “Um. Here?” he asks, slowly placing his hands on your thighs and gripping them slightly.

“Yes, good. Where else?”

You’re slowly trailing your fingers up and down Charlie’s torso, sending goosebumps all over his skin as he struggles to speak properly.

“Here,” is all he can choke out, running his shaky hands along your hips and waist.

“Uh-huh,” you slip your hands from under Charlie’s shirt and put them on top of his, “Want me to guide you or do you think you’ve got it?”

“You can guide me if you want to,” Charlie says, biting his lip.

You grab Charlie’s hands and move them under your shirt to your covered breasts, “Sprawl out your fingers and squeeze with them.”

Charlie does as told, and he does it perfectly. It’s probably the most simple way you can touch someone, though. But you don’t mind.

“You can squeeze them all you want either under my shirt or without my shirt,” you run your fingers through the hair on the side of Charlie’s head.

You let go of Charlie’s hands, letting him do as he pleased. He squeezes at your breasts, moving his hands in different ways to elicit moans from you. Before Charlie can decide, you go ahead and strip off your shirt and your binder/bra. Your nipples harden at the sudden exposure to cooler air and Charlie stares at them, unsure of what to do next.

“What do you want to do with them, Charlie? You can suck them, bite them, pull them, whatever you want,” you say, leaning in closer to Charlie’s face.

“Can I do both?” Charlie asks.

“At the same time or?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yes. You can do one thing to one while you do something else to the other if that’s what you want to do.”

Charlie slowly takes one of your nipples into his mouth, experimentally licking at it while rubbing circles on your other. The sensual movements of Charlie’s finger and tongue cause you to moan softly. You continue to card your fingers through his hair as he moves his tongue and finger a little faster than before. He then pulls away from your nipple, a string of saliva still connecting it to his mouth. Charlie then moves to the other nipple and flicks his tongue against it without sucking it between his lips. He heistantly pinches the nipple he just had his mouth on, his spit adding the perfect amount of lubrication. Your hips involuntarily buck forward at the feeling of Charlie’s tongue lapping at the sensitive bud. He then fully takes it into his mouth, lightly running his teeth around it. Charlie holds back a smirk at the high pitched noise you let out at the sensation of teeth. He decides to try holding your nipple with his teeth and then licking it at the same time, just to see how you react. Your hand that’s in Charlie’s hair suddenly grips the dirty blonde locks harshly, and Charlie moans around you, adding vibration to the mix. So you pull his hair again. You feel him grow a tad harder underneath you.

“You like that, don’t you Charlie?” you bite your lip as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, suckling at your breast.

“I do,” he sighs contently, moving back to your left breast and pinching it lightly before massaging you again.

“Do you know where else to touch?” you ask, becoming a little needy at this point.

Charlie’s mouth was so good you can’t possibly imagine how it feels elsewhere. And his long fingers? Why didn’t you think of this sooner?

Charlie looks incredibly nervous now as he moves his hands to your upper thighs.

“Just remember that you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” you say gently.

“I want to touch you and make you feel good,” Charlie says, shakily unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans.

“Let me lay down so it’s not as awkward for both of us,” you say, climbing off of Charlie’s lap and onto the bed, “I trust that you know kinda what to do, but take your time. If you need help don’t hesitate to ask.”

Charlie nods, nestling himself between your legs, resting on his stomach and elbows. You push your pants and underwear down your thighs, letting Charlie pull them down the rest of the way. When your clothes are pushed off your feet, Charlie returns to his position and his eyes grow large at the sight of your bare pussy. He’s breathless as he slowly runs a curious finger up your glistening slit, causing you to gasp. He does the movement again, this time applying some more pressure. Charlie is amazed at how wet you are from him playing with your breasts, but he figures you’re probably into that. He knows that when someone is wet, they feel good, so seeing how soaked you are for him makes his confidence skyrocket. You spread your legs further apart, letting Charlie get a full view. He runs his finger over what he thinks may be your clit, but he’s not too sure.

“Move your finger up and you’ll feel it,” you grab Charlie’s hand and guide it upward just a little.

The tip of his finger brushes against the correct spot and you hum in approval, “Right there.”

Charlie circles your clit with his finger slowly, almost tantalizing, “Like this?”

“Just like that,” you say weakly, “God, you’re getting me so wet.”

Charlie leans in and kisses your inner thighs, wanting to bury his face in your arousal, but only with your permission.

You sense his hesitation, “You can lick it if you want. You can do anything you’re comfortable with, Charlie. I promise.”

Charlie gives your clit a tentative lick, and for a moment his licking isn’t pressured enough.

“You can lick harder, you won’t hurt me,” you said brushing some hair from Charlie’s face.

“Okay,” Charlie breathes out, licking from bottom to top in one long stripe, gathering your wetness on his tongue. He figures it’d feel good to you if he had some lubrication on your clit while licking it. And he’s right. As he swirls his tongue around your bundle of nerves, you swivel your hips to the same rhythm. 

“Fuck, Charlie,” you whimper, “Do you want to finger me?”

Charlie nods vigorously, his mouth not leaving you as he continues to lick you up, down, and all around. He was messy with it, but it still felt good to you. You take one of his hands that are gripping your thighs, pressing all his fingers down except the index one, and flipping his palm upward.

“All you have to do is find my entrance and push it in slowly until you’re fully inside, then you can bend it, twist it, or whatever you wanna do with it. When you think I’m ready, you can add a second one.”

Charlie nods wordlessly as he pulls his mouth off you, focusing on gathering the mixture of spit and slick before prodding at you and finding your entrance. He pushes his finger in as slowly as he can, watching you writhe underneath him. Charlie has his finger completely inside of you, and he experimentally curls it upward a little. The tip of his finger touches something spongy.

“Oh god right there,” you gasp, “You found it on the first try holy shit.”

“Found what?” Charlie leans down to play with your clit with his tongue again, curling his finger more forcefully.

“Fuck,” you sigh, throwing your head back momentarily, “Your finger is just the right length to get to my g spot. Keep rubbing it.”

Charlie wonders if licking in circles at the same time he circles his finger would cause a reaction. So he does, and you cry out.

“Keep going,” you say, letting your head relax against the pillows as it feels heavier with each stroke of Charlie’s finger.

He can feel you throb around his finger, and he slides it out before sliding it back in and hitting that spot. You thrust your hips in response, wishing Charlie would add a second finger. He decides now is the perfect time to see if two will fit. And his middle finger easily slides in next to his pointer, both fingertips pressing against your g spot deliciously. You begin to wordlessly pump yourself on Charlie’s fingers. He matches your pace, curling and caressing his fingers with every thrust. Your hands occupy your breasts, rolling your nipples as Charlie continues to suck your clit and finger you simultaneously. You feel like you’re going to explode.

“If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” you whine, “And I’m sure you’d like to feel me cum on your cock instead.”

You didn’t mean for something so filthy to leave your mouth so soon, but god, it causes Charlie to pause his movements and gauge what you just said to him. 

“Please,” Charlie gulps, “Only if you’ll let me.”

“I’m on the pill,” you say, hastily pulling at the bottom hem of Charlie’s shirt and tugging it over his head.

Charlie quickly removes his pants and underwear, discarding them somewhere in the room before clambering back to you, “Tell me what to do.”

“It’s just like your fingers,” you say, sliding your hands along Charlie’s chest, “Push into me slowly until you bottom out.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, focusing on lining himself up perfectly. 

Slowly, he pushes his tip into you, and your hands reach out for his upper arms. You grunt as Charlie continues to gently guide himself inside you, the stretch of his size stinging a little. But then he finally bottoms out, and you wiggle your hips to better adjust to him. Charlie is hovering over you, the most pleasured look on his face as his eyes close. He’s never felt something so warm and perfect engulf him like this. No wonder everyone else has done this already, he thinks to himself. 

“You can move, Charlie.”

Charlie pulls out of you just a small amount before sliding back in, testing the waters on how he’s supposed to thrust into you. Gradually, you let him inch closer and closer to pulling all the way out and then thrusting back in. Finally, he pulls out except for his tip, then sheathes himself completely inside of you.

The moan you let out is nearly pornographic as he hits you at just the right angle. This urges Charlie to do the movement again, so he pulls out, then plunges back into you. He does this over and over, faster each time.

“You’re doing so good, Charlie, fuck,” you grip his biceps as you move your hips in time with his.

“Only good for you,” he pants, his fingers digging into your hips for leverage.

You reach a hand down to toy with your clit, but when Charlie notices, he switches your hand for his. He decides to use his thumb since he could access your clit better that way while fucking you. Charlie rubs tight circles on your bundle of nerves as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside you repeatedly. A tight warmth is building in your stomach again.

Charlie leans his face down to yours, immediately capturing you into a kiss. The kiss is hot and messy- you’re both gasping and swirling your tongues together with mouths open as you both desperately chase your highs.

“I’m gonna,” Charlie groans, burying his face in your neck.

“Cum for me, Charlie. Such a good boy for me,” you whimper, rocking your hips into his at a ferocious pace.

Your words send him unraveling, and the sound that erupts from his throat pushes you over the edge as well. You grasp at his arms, riding out your orgasm as Charlie continues to rub your clit lazily. You push his hand away, but at the same time, it feels so good. Charlie brings his hand back to your clit, knowing the sounds you were still making means you like how it feels. After he carefully pulls out of you, he continues his movements. 

“I’m gonna cum again, please,” you messily swivel your hips, grinding your clit onto Charlie’s thumb as hard as you can with your shaking body.

“Fuck,” you cry out, Charlie still rubbing you hard and fast, “I’m-”

Before you can finish your sentence, you cum hard, your arousal seeping out of you and into Charlie’s hand. Your chest heaves as Charlie licks his hand clean before letting his hands rub up and down your body, your orgasm still fizzling out. 

“How did I do?” Charlie asks nervously.

“So good. I can’t imagine how much better you’ll get over time,” you smile as Charlie grabs his shirt for you to clean up with.

“Wanna stick around and find out?” Charlie half jokes, handing you the shirt.

“Only if you want me to,” you say, cleaning yourself up.

“I want you to,” Charlie says softly, “I still have a lot to learn.”

“That you do,” you chuckle before pecking Charlie on the lips.

taglist:

@Spatterpus @wqndasdarkkhold @leilani788

[beatcroc]

a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

[actual-changeling]

I have written many meta posts and s3-theories, and read even more, but I got hit by an idea I have not seen before. (If there is another post, please link it!)

After vibrating for an hour and losing my mind in my dms, I have no scraped together enough brain cells to present what is probably my first actual 'main-plot meta'.

Welcome to another edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner, today with a title to honour Crowley's James Bond obsession and the possibility of another heaven heist.

I give you:

From Jesus with Love - You Will Live Twice

Now, let's get right into it.

I think Neil might have told us more about the main s3 plotline in the announcement article than we previously thought. We all got stuck on 'they're not talking'—for good reason—but it is the part before that which has been bugging me ever since then.

The plans are going wrong—and this time that is a problem for earth and humanity. Turning that around, it means that whatever that plan consists of would be the way to go and beneficial for everyone, the opposite of the main plot of s1.

"They need to prevent the Second Coming (SC)" is pretty much the only and most popular idea I have seen, hundreds of fics and metas and whatnot have been written about it, but I think there's a good chance we're wrong. If we're not, well, I will honestly just be happy to be watching season 3.

Whatever the Metatron is planning will have negative consequences for everyone, or as Michael puts it: "And so… it ends. Everything ends. Time and the world is over, and we begin Eternity… forever and ever."

It sounds very much like Apocalypse #1 - Same Old Plan, same expected result, yet if we look at different interpretations of scripture we find that the SC is not entirely about complete destruction and death for all of humanity—it is about creating a new world/migrating to the kingdom of God.

This is taken from the Wikipedia article about the SC

Resurrection and life in a world to come are a direct contradiction to the result Michael is explaining—total annihilation of humanity.

Now, I am neither religious in any way nor have I ever received any sort of biblical education. Luckily, Christians seem to love talking about the bible because there are dozens of bible website to wade through. If I get anything wrong, please point it out, I have never touched a bible in my life.

So, after reading many, many quotes by a bunch of different guys, I tried to create a somewhat coherent picture of what the SC might look like based on the assumption that the end result is positive. I will talk about how they can be interpreted more in-depth later, otherwise this would turn into a string-net very fast.

Additionally, we can also see where these points overlap with the statement Jimbriel gave in the bookshop in episode three.

What is Jesus' job description?

only God knows when and how exactly it will begin/happen, no one else does, including Jesus and the Metatron

a lot of different catastrophes are mentioned or quoted as something Jesus said, like earthquakes and storms -> Jimbriel mentioned a tempest and great storms

there is also the line "All these are the beginning of birth pains." Birth pains dictate that there will be a birth—birth of the world to come perhaps?

dead people will be resurrected/leave their graves so that they too can be judged (I'd say participate in it but that sounds like the Second Coming is a summer camp activity)

there are also mentions of stars and the heavens in general falling from the sky and the sun going dark -> Jimbriel also mentions darkness as one of the signs

great lamentations, as Jimbriel says, are also a part of many different passages, with humans mourning the world as it was

the Lord will descent with the voice of an Archangel and the sound of a trumpet/the trumpet of God; the grammatical structure of that sentence seems to be interpreted differently depending on who you ask, but the voices of angels/an Archangel and some sort of trumpet are common terms

once everyone is in heaven/wherever the 'main even' will take place, a judgement call will be made for every single person in relation to the book of life, which decides whether they will be punished forever or not (one passage talks about a lake of fire and mentions it several times in a row)

And this is where it gets tricky. To figure out what the SC looks like, we first need to understand a) what the Metatron's capabilities are, b) what he has to lose, and c) what exactly would be a threat to him.

If you ask me, all of this comes down to the Metatron wanting to stay and be in power for eternity with full control over angels so he can do as he please, aka keeping the system running as it is.

We know the book of life (bol) is a thing in the Good Omens universe, whether it does what Michael said is an entirely different question. So far, we have also only got confirmation that hell collects and tortures souls—in such large amounts that they are understaffed—while heaven looks completely empty.

The Metatron runs heaven as an institution, he seems to be the highest power any of the angels have access to and the one they defer to. He refers to himself as the voice of God and combines judge, jury and executioner, making him one great celestial dictator.

From what we know of hell, they do things a lot more democratically, having different councils, dukes, and ranks that are responsible for different levels of command.

We also know that that the Metatron wants the world to end, his goals can probably be summarized as the statement Michael makes, which would leave him in charge without any opposing forces.

We also also know that he sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a threat—why exactly remains a mystery for now—and that the success of his plan hinges on having a Supreme Archangel (SA) he can control. Gabriel decided to become princess of hell and Beez' sugar baby, so he was out of the equation, and after the Armageddon disaster, I don't think he wants to risk failing because of an unfamiliarity with earth (plus, y'know, getting our two idiots away from the plan).

It's interesting to me that right at the end, he says to Aziraphale "We call it the Second Coming"—call, not it is or it will be, CALL. We know that nothing Neil writes is a coincidence, definitely not with such an important line.

Just because you CALL something a specific name doesn't mean it IS what you call it, e.g. Aziraphale calls Crowley a foul fiend when we know he very much isn't.

The Metatron is selling his plan as part of the "Great/Ineffable Plan", so any questions can be blocked by saying it's God's will, it's ineffable. Whatever his plan is, he hides it behind the concept of the Second Coming, which angels know just enough about to understand the basics without having in-depth knowledge of what exactly it entails.

It is a good fucking strategy, I'll give him that, and it WORKS because angels—even if they have doubts—do not question. They simply don't; fear of punishment and millennia of conditioning have left them in a horrible place. When they encounter something unknown, their response is "I already knew that" as to not ask questions.

Crowley questions, we know that, and Aziraphale, ohhhhh, Aziraphale ALSO questions, but he does it in a less dangerous and obvious way. The Metatron is vastly underprepared for that.

(Side note: That alone would be its own meta post, but the gist is that he questions heaven's plans and then adjusts his assumptions of what God might want to what he WANTS God to want, e.g. Job, the Arch)

To summarize everything I just said, the Metatron wants to do what Armageddon failed to do—destroy earth and the universe—so he can be supreme dictator of all remaining celestial beings and gorge himself on power.

But instead of calling it his Big Evil Plan, he calls it the Second Coming, making everyone play along without resistance.

We cycle aaaaall the way back to the sentence I quoted—the ACTUAL plans are going wrong since the Metatron's would mean total destruction.

But what is the SC supposed to be if not the Apocalypse 2.0?

When I look at all the different aspects of the SC and assume a positive outcome, then the end result to me would be a new world that is pretty much like the old world, or maybe even literally the old world but with any destruction reversed. Heaven and hell get dissolved since now that everyone has been "judged", they as institutions are no longer needed, they have fulfilled their purpose.

No more judgement means there is no reason to keep track anymore, so why do you need to run celestial corporations whose only job is doing exactly that? You don't—and THAT is what I believe is the biggest perceived threat to the Metatron, losing full control over everyone and everything, losing his position, his title, and whatever else he has.

On top of that, Good Omens has told us again and again that God doesn't seem to give a fuck about good and evil anymore, and that without heaven and hell being all wrapped up in it, humanity would have 100% free will without any consequences.

Maybe the BoL is empty, maybe it isn't real, maybe Jesus stole it to straighten a wobbly table, who knows. There is a chance it is what Michael says, but I would admittedly find that a bit. too obvious and boring since it would boil the plot down to "they save their own asses again" and not "they save humanity at all cost".

Regarding Crowley and Aziraphale's role in this—I have Thoughts TM but those definitely need their own post. In short, they have to get the SC back on track, the real one.

-

If you have made it this far, thank you for working through what I hope are more or less coherent rambles. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own.

Questions? Thoughts? Corrections? Expansions and additions?

Feel free to add to this post however you like (and I can't believe I have to mentions this but if you clown on my post or behave like an asshole you will be blocked).

[chanswifey]

Seventeen as your boyfriend | Jeonghan

mean™

Don't get me wrong, he's completely in love with you, it's just that his love language includes being a bit annoying

If he doesn't try to annoy you at least once a day assume he's sick or got abducted and replaced with a clone

Apologies are usually in the form of a warm meal or a cuddle session before sleep

He also likes to treat you by giving you gifts, you don't know but he has definitely stalked your wishlist once or twice to try to surprise you (and make sure you forgive him)

He's addicted to gossiping with you, he knows all the office tea and your coworker's names even though he has never met any of them

Some nights you get home to him holding an actual tea mug and signaling the seat next to him

"You will not believe what happened today at work", you say dropping your stuff by the entrance door.

"Tell me everything, honey", he answers handing you your own tea mug.

On date nights he likes to take you on walks in the park to look at the stars, he loves to hear you talk about the things you love, even if it's just some tv show you recently found

You guys used to do game nights but those are forbidden now because he kept cheating so much and when you managed to win once he tried to accuse you of cheating... the nerve 🙄

This guy finds a way to cheat on games you would not even think possible, he's an actual mastermind

He takes really good care of you, doesn't matter how busy he is, always worrying about your sleep and if you have been eating

He's also the type to do things just because you are into them, he ends up enjoying it too but won't admit to it

Like doing skincare routines, never seen a guy fall asleep so fast as when you are applying cream on his face

He will literally search for new face masks to try with you then whine the whole time you are putting it on his face

You are the only person allowed to braid his hair other than his hair stylist, he loves when you play with his hair and even takes pictures to brag to the members about how good you are at it

He LOVES to take unflattering pics of you, LOVES!!!! And he WILL use all of them on your birthday post

He will get on your nerves so bad sometimes but with a face like that you can't really stay mad at him, can you?

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

2023 © chanswifey — do not repost or translate

author's note: this one was easier to do than I thought it would be tbh, I hope you guys like it. About the next post, I will try to do it tomorrow but if I don't it will be posted on Sunday. I have to take my precious angel of a dog to the vet on Saturday and I have no idea how long it will take. Anyways let me know if you guys like this one and remember to like and reblog to help me, love yall 💗

mlist | request here | what I write

[your-local-hoemie]

I saw your praise nsfw post so may i request it with thoma and zhongli next :p

NS!FW. 18+ ONLY!

Come and feed, children. The food is ✨spicy✨

Sorry this took so long!! I’m feeling a lot better now so my creative brain juices are flowin’ again uwu.

Summary: Genshin boy’s with a reader who likes to be praised (just incase ya’ll didn’t see the previous request)

Warnings: Ns!fw, soft smut, public spice (Zhongli), Zhongli also gets a ego™️, swearing, established relationship, Gn!reader, not proof-read, I don’t know what else to put hdjfhdj.

Characters: Zhongli, Thoma.

Zhongli~

I headcanon that this man is one of the most innocent about sex.

Like he knows about it and he knows what it’s for but he’s never had the need to look into it before you.

He’s a little confused at first but he got the spirit.

It doesn’t last long though because his godlike ego inFLATES.

When you moan out his name just a little louder after he praises you, my man couldn’t stop.

Instant turn on.

He enjoys being worshiped after all wink wink

Your relationship with zhongli was extremely honest.

There wasn’t a thing about you that the other didn’t know.

At least so he thought.

Little did he know you’d been hiding the fact that whenever he praised you for doing something, Your heartbeat went just a little bit faster.

One night after coming back from a special anniversary date, your conversation changed to a more intimate topic.

You and Zhongli had done the do once or twice before but you were just too busy with your commissions to have much time or energy to get all steamy, which Zhongli; being the gentleman he is, understood!

So when the conversation started about being a little more intimate, you shyly happened to mention that you really, really liked it when he praised you. A switch in him flipped.

He already enjoyed giving his people praise when it was due.

He was used to them almost begging to be acknowledged by the great geo archon!

But now he’s retired. The only person he wants to show that praise and appreciation for, is you.

So now, you were a little surprised to say the least when you found yourself pressed up against his statue while his fingers worked their magic on your sex, while his pretty lips left equally pretty marks on your neck and shoulder.

Something about the way you squirmed and whimpered out his name whenever he did praise you, sent sparks shooting up his body.

“You’re being so good, darling”

“How does it feel to have your archon praise you like this?”

“Such sweet sounds you make, dear. Why don’t you moan a little louder for your god~”

Needless to say that walking home is definitely going to be a challenge.

Good thing your boyfriend is more than happy to carry you back, all while whispering more praises and all the things he has in store for you when you get home~

Thoma~

Ok ok, hear me out.

I think Thoma has a slightly kinky side to him.

He’s such a sweet, precious boy that he has to have some way he lets out any frustrations that he’s been too kind to bring up to others!

Not to mention, he’s so incredibly in love with you that he’ll do his best to make sure you feel good no matter what!

He also is very much into praising, so if you start doing the same to him while he’s praising you then things will get very spicy, very fast!

You and Thoma were slowly being recognised and Inazuma’s cutest couple.

You worked together as a team almost all the time. Helping people with any problems they had and just generally helping to keep the place as issue free as possible!

That doesn’t mean that I’d was always easy though. Sometimes things would just go wrong for no reason and it left the both of you feeling… frustrated.

And today was one of those days. You had both accidentally over slept leaving not time for your usual morning hugs or kisses before Thoma had to rush off to the Kamisato estate and you had to hurry over to the adventures guild to pick up your daily commissions!

After that things just seemed to go down hill. Not for any particular reason other than you were both just really pent up for some reason and it just kept getting worse.

So you couldn’t really say you were surprised when later that night, Thoma had you sitting on the table, legs around his waste while thrusting his pretty hips into you~

Nothing but both of your moans and curses could be heard throughout your house, along with the soft creaking of the wooden table underneath you while Thoma lovingly nuzzles his face into the crook of you neck.

“Archons, y/n. You feel so good!”

“I needed this so badly, please don’t stop!”

“You look so pretty while I’m inside you, sweetheart!”

After a little while you could help but start giving him praises as well, causing him to rut even more into you while letting out the prettiest of whimpers.

Definitely Inazuma’s cutest couple~

Bruh I’m taking care of a injured baby bird and it’s so loud, like I’m happy it’s recovering but my dude please chill I’m autistic T-T

[the---hermit]

Messy desk on a gloomy autumn day

16|10|2023

If you couldn't tell I get to the end of the week and I am too exhausted to even consider writing my daily post. This Saturday in particular was a really heavy day I was deprived of all energies, and to be quite honest I don't feel at my best yet. Other than being sick, last week I worked a lot, and had to wake up even earlier than I usually do, so it was a bad combination of things. I am now starting to feel a bit better but I am not fully recharged of energies. The good things that happened in the weekend were the fact that I found the time to sit down and watch the new episodes of Our Flag Means Death, and I also started a reread of the Something Is Killing The Children graphic novel series. The sixth volume has just came out in Italy, and although I have not found a copy yet I feel like the spooky season is perfect for a reread. Today had a quite stressing start, because I decided to tackle my most anxiety-inducing task: officializing the classes I will take on my uni's website. Of course it went terribly, I had to do the procedure twice, and there are some new techinical problems that will hopefully be resolved quickly. After doing that and emailing a professor I gave up on everything else because I felt like I just had a fight to the death and I barely got out of it alive. Thankfully in the afternoon I had a bit more energies and I managed to finish my first read of the play I am currently studying for my English lit class, so the day was not a complete waste of time.

cozy hobbit autumn activities and productivity:

read first thing in the morning

fought with my uni's website and won (kind of, because I also had to send an email to fix some problems but I dif what I could so I count that as a win)

emailed a professor to get his opinion on whether I could take his class with my unsure prerequisites and not only he answered very quickly, but he was also quite polite and told me that thankfully I can take that class and if I'll need more materials to help me with what we'll be studying he'll recommend me an additional book so that I can take the exam

did a bit of planning on what classes I will be taking this year and what I'll wait to work on next year (it's a very general guideline to help me figure out what I'll be doing with my academic life in the next while)

did a very quick weekly set up in my bullet journal

(finally) updated my reading journal

finished my first read of The Merchant Of Venice

daily Irish practice on duolingo

listened to podcasts to shut my brain off

worked on a series of future posts

📖:The Book Of Lost Things by John Connolly, The Merchant Of Venice by William Shakespeare

[thesherrinfordfacility]

i did not break my own heart last night thinking about the missing 1941 scene and have it sat in my brain all of today spinning around like a fucking microwave in order to not make you lot suffer with me. and i somehow feel i may be right about this so buckle up and lets break it down.

so yes, following on from this post, i think that there is going to be a third 1941 scene. twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern. it's been literally set up like that by even bringing back 1941 into s2 in the first place. but we're missing a crucial detail because it does not - at all, really - explain how they went from evading danger from hell and having a cosy candlelit bottle of red to celebrate, to the bastard 1967 scene. we all know this, this is nothing new.

the symbolism of nightingales is probably going to cast a shadow on this. these two excellent analyses look at the meaning of nightingales in the context of R&J, and the relation that the song has to this point in time, respectively. in summary; it's a song that should be around in 1941 courtesy of vera lynn and others, and the nightingale itself carries the meaning of love being hidden and forbidden by way of it singing under the cover of darkness, before being replaced with reality and soberness - represented by the lark. the Dinner of '41 scene is set in the bookshop at night; this would parallel - that they are safe and concealed, and truths can be shared, but the writing is on the wall that stepping outside would be to shatter the illusion, so to speak. it might be that the song itself gets miracled up onto the record player, or a wireless lying about - whatever. note: i don't think they'll dance though, not given crowley in ep5, "you don't dance"... but then again, if there ISNT a kiss in s3-1941, an aborted dance seems like the next best option... the cowardly one, but i'll take it

this would also track with aziraphale having his epiphany after the church in s1-1941; specifically, in my eyes, that he doesn't necessarily just realise he loves crowley, but that crowley by way of saving his books loves him too. this is only supported by the whole of the s2-1941 scene of trusting in each other as the only way to pull off the trick, the subterfuge. this is then, again, also important in the context of what i think happens in s3-1941.

i do think aziraphale is going to bring the books up again, and what crowley did, because it needs to be addressed. the Nazis/furfur confrontation has scared him, regardless of whether he saved them both, more than he realised. its put things into startling perspective. i think he's going to bring up the books, and actually question crowley a little more as to why he did it. the repeated use of, and subsequent weird reaction crowley has to, the use of the term "friend" in s2-1941 would indicate that this is going to be a focal point in s3-1941. are they just friends? is crowley disappointed that aziraphale is still referring to him as that, after what he did? 'saving' aziraphale in the church, and then saving his books? or is aziraphale just saying 'friends' so hesitantly in both instances because he's not completely sure where crowley stands?

we as the audience know the answer to this, but they obviously do not. if one of the crucial themes of s3 is going to be resolving miscommunication, it makes sense for this scene to be the first, and last, time they communicate properly... at least, until they sort out the issues that culminated in the Final Fifteen.

so let's say they start getting into a very roundabout way of discussing what they mean to each other. there will need to be the sobering, ice-water-over-the-head realisation however, as s2-1941 demonstrated, that they cannot belong to each other, because they manifestly belong to heaven and hell respectively. crowley is still being spied on, and it firmly places aziraphale in their line of sight too. it's going to bring up the holy water discussion; why crowley asked for it - to protect himself, whether by taking out demons or taking out himself, as long as it means he - and most importantly, aziraphale - does not get hurt.

they actively confess that they want to be together, in a way that is more than they are now. aziraphale wants to, but says that they can't, because it's too dangerous. crowley suggests that no one ever has to know, they can hide it (there, in the bookshop, whilst the nightingale is singing), and even if they are found out, they can run. "hell won't just be angry; they'll destroy you..." // "no one ever has to know".

aziraphale doesn't want to have to hide it, doesn't want a halfway measure- is still thinking in black and white. crowley however thinks that something is better than nothing - thinking in the grey. but ultimately, as long as they are still shackled, they cannot do what they want, and it puts the other in danger. "surely the great thing about being a demon is that you can do whatever you want" // "you sound jealous, angel...". instead, aziraphale promises that the day that they are no longer tied to heaven or hell, they can be together; crowley scoffs, thinking that that will never happen, so they will never happen, "you're so clever! how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?!"

the reason they can't right now is because they could be caught. they would have to skulk around, be ashamed, feel guilty - and aziraphale is tired of feeling like that. because only having crowley in secret would hurt more. not being able hold his hand, or dance with him, or kiss him, unless it was in the bookshop. if hell were to find out, crowley would be killed, true, but if heaven were to find out, aziraphale could be cast out. and if crowley survived hell long enough to see aziraphale fall - he'd never forgive himself, and in a way, i don't think he'd ever forgive aziraphale either.

it's tearing them to pieces, but they have to stop whatever is happening between them in its tracks. it's acknowledged, but it's not named. this gives them plausible deniability; if they called it 'love', it would be undeniable. so, aziraphale asks for crowley to go; asks him to leave before they do something they can't come back from. crowley doesn't listen - crowds him, gets in close, and aziraphale is powerless to stop it. doesn't want to stop it. he's selfish by nature, a selfless kind of selfishness, but he wants this with all his being. and then - "this is too fast, crowley, please don't..." // "im sorry, angel. please... please, forgive me". aziraphale never gets to answer, to grant him that, because boom - the actual first kiss.

so. now that i've had to make you read that, i'm going in for the kill. let's look at everything that follows - and look at how the above might recontextualise it.

1967: the offer of the picnic, the Ritz? ie. the literal lyrics of berkeley square? aziraphale has caved in the interest of giving crowley a weapon to use if all else fails, to protect him, but that's as far as he's willing to progress. everything else is still too painful; he's on the brink of tears, promising that one day they'll be able to do what they want, to be open about how they feel, but not yet. they can't. crowley tries to push, "ill give you a lift, anywhere you want to go..." (him offering again to run away? a second chance to leg it?), and aziraphale reminding him that they can't, he can't... don't make him go too fast again, it's not fair. it also sets up perfectly that aziraphale and crowley don't speak for the next 40 or so years (as far as we're aware) until armageddon is threatened.

bandstand: mostly this is still centred around the apocalypse contextually, but i think with the above hypothetical scene in mind (the offer to hide, to run away, to be together), aziraphale is sent back to remembering their mutual confession that they've nonverbally agreed not to bring up, because it's not safe, and it's too painful. they've skirted around it, and returned instead to a tentative kind of friendship at the beginning of s1, but they're still not safe to address why seeing each other again, being so close to each other and not being able to touch is so painful. anyway - aziraphale refuses their side, but the above scene would re-view this as 'our side can't exist yet, you know this! you know why it can't!', and crowley leaves, again after pushing a bit more than aziraphale can stand.

alpha centauri: basically a facsimile of the above; same steps, same dance. but this time, crowley harks back to aziraphale's foolish (?) hope that they will be together, without having to run away, when the day comes that they don't have to answer to heaven or hell. and aziraphale smacks him right back, echoing crowley asking for aziraphale's forgiveness in kissing him, "i forgive you." crowley knows exactly what aziraphale is getting at, there - he's answering crowley's whispered plea to forgive him for pushing, for trying to force him, for acting in desperation. but he's also not answering that - he's skirting around that very thing, forgiving him like a knife would, slicing back at crowley for not only insulting aziraphale on something that is likely a genuine insecurity of his, but also putting him back in his place, for their safeties, because them being together just cannot happen. not yet.

and "please forgive me" in 1941 might seem out of character, but idk if it is; crowley knows that doing what he's about to do will hurt aziraphale, aziraphale has (hypothetically) told him as much, but he needs to do it - and seeks not benevolence or forgiveness as crowley-the-demon, but actually seems aziraphale's forgiveness, as crowley-the-person. the echo would certainly match the tone given here, in multiple ways:

the ritz: i mean, what is there to say? yes, their song is literally playing on the piano, and heralds the shift in their being out from heaven and hell, the day has finally come where they can - again, going by this entirely hypothetical scene that ive concocted - actually be together as they want to. and the nightingale literally singing outside, but as @shoemakerobstetrician beautifully pointed out, god remarks that it's covered up by traffic. so actually, if we again refer back to R&J interpretation of the nightingale, the love is still hidden, still somewhat under wraps, but can only just about be heard over the noise of the streets outside. the prohibition of them being together, of loving each other, is dwindling. and one day, it'll stop singing altogether. that day is coming, it will come, and then they can do what they please. so whilst the ritz scene may well be a mark of them starting the next chapter, it's slow to take hold, there's still hesitancy - which absolutely makes sense when we see that they are still very tentative with each other come the beginning of s2.

s2 general: aziraphale realises their freedom first; he gets excited by the dance, and being able to show his love to crowley, completely and without barriers, in the form of the ball - what he has read to be the best way to do so. he touches crowley more. he shares his bookshop with him, gifts it to crowley as being his as well as aziraphale's, this safe space that is so wholly theirs that crowley has the power to grant entry. the same with the bentley - aziraphale sees it as theirs, and crowley silently agrees, granting aziraphale the same power. crowley is comfortable in the bookshop to remove his glasses, has a place for them. the bookshop becomes tidier, more minimalist, to make crowley more comfortable in it (it is more cluttered in s1, im certain of it). it might just be the grading between s1 and s2, and lack of clutter, but the yellow is more prominent - his literal favourite colour. everything just screams that aziraphale is ready to make good on his promise from s3-1941.

crowley... for once, is the one not quite catching up. not realising the little dates here and there are literally poses them as a couple (although yes, the coffee shop one is to prep crowley for the goob jumpscare), that aziraphale has granted him the power to grant entry. aziraphale literally asking, practically begging, crowley to help him hide goob. the mf colour of the walls. the colour of the bentley. it's not until nina outright asks him if they are together that he realises how careless they've been - but wait, is it careless if they have nothing to be careful of? well, arguably crowley does, hell are still hanging around him like a bad smell... but this is what he wanted! this is what he was pushing aziraphale for! so, does he risk it? he's not sure, but he's certainly realising that aziraphale is ready, if nothing else. and by the time the ladies stage their little intervention, crowley finally realises that the confession he started in 1941 now can be fully aired, can come out into the open.

the Feral Domestic: *fingers at temples* i know i have been fairly vocal about my interpretation of this scene, and frankly - until we get this hypothetical s3-1941 scene, i stand by it - but let's say this speculation about the scene is true, and re-examine the key points in the Final Fifteen that would completely turn on their heads in terms of meaning:

literally, harking back full circle to what aziraphale promised in 1967 as what they would do when they could fully acknowledge their love, and what they did as soon as - on paper - they were free at the end of s1. this is however before he's spoken to by nina and maggie, so maybe this is what crowley was planning in terms of confessing fully to aziraphale, but after their meddling he realised that yes, they need to actually talk about it again. he doesn't understand why they're telling him what they are - because he's existed so long in gestures and gifts and not talking, literally dismissed it now as a viable option, that it doesn't even occur to him to try talking again.

which is why he does something brave, and tries to tell aziraphale instead (say it out loud, make it undeniable, put a name to it, "i love you", something that i think was crowley's actual intention before aziraphale interrupts him) when he comes back to the shop... he's so nervous, because it's vulnerable, and because the last time he did, they ended up hiding for 50-ish years.

next up:

now, im reluctant to think that aziraphale lied in the Feral Domestic, because i do think the key thing at work is his paramount need to do the Right Thing (ie. make a difference in heaven). whilst metatron obviously manipulates him, im not entirely convinced that aziraphale wholly sees through it. i don't think he knew that metatron was up to something, i think the shaking off of this naivety is going to be part of his s3 character development. but this sentence - again, especially in context of the hypothetical s3-1941 scene - must on some level frighten him. especially if you take this meta into account, aziraphale must realise at least that they were never safe, even when they were denying what they were and how they felt, it didn't make a bit of difference. now, metatron could have just been talking about the arrangement, not referring to any romantic elements of any kind, but the threat of it? no wonder he pushes for crowley to join him in heaven; he could keep crowley safe there. they could be together, and heaven - in his eyes - would be able to say a word against it.

then:

the fear sets in; crowley was too late in telling him, acknowledging that they could be together, realising what aziraphale was saying to him without words, and now heaven has come for him. plonked them right back where they were in s2-1941, but perversely mirrored; instead of hell coming for crowley with violence, heaven came for aziraphale with kindness. crowley doesn't have a magic trick he can just do on the fly, perform it perfectly when the need for it is greatest, and has to cling to the hope that aziraphale still sees them as the barrier to them, the reason they can't be together. and in true miscommunication fashion, i think aziraphale does see it, but what metatron said lingers, and in addition to being inside the institution, changing it from the inside out, in order to make a difference... he knows that whilst it's exactly the opposite of what they wanted, he needs to make them safe. better to be inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.

but aziraphale doesn't tell crowley what metatron said, because instead he either deliberately tries to deny the implications of it (cognitive dissonance king behaviour), or he doesn't want to panic crowley and is trying to convey to crowley that he can't speak his concerns, not when the metatron could still be watching, and instead just needs crowley to trust him, take his hand, and join him in heaven where they can be safe. doesn't tell crowley that heaven hasn't captured him in shackles again, but he's willingly held out his wrists because it's the safest thing for him, and them, to do.

so it's one thing to look at what crowley's saying, but aziraphale's reaction? before, i just found it to be out of confusion, him not really understanding what crowley was saying, but tbh i never paid much attention to it (david stole this bit of the scene - not to put down my beloved michael here, but he did). and i know others have remarked here that aziraphale is flitting his eyes to the window and looks scared and stressed, but i don't completely think that its because he's scared that metatron is watching (although, now, i will accept with the rug thing and hypothetical s3-1941 in context it is definitely playing a part), but also because he's just starting to recognise that this is a repeat of the s3-1941 scene, "this sounds familiar, we've been here before... oh, we've definitely been here before... oh shit. i still can't do this, not unless he comes with me. we still can't be together, not in the way crowley wants. the way he's trying again, now, to ask for."

but the issue is: crowley wants to run away together. again. and i totally get why, but once again, going back to 1941: it's exactly the solution that will not work. they cannot run from this. heaven, and hell, will find them. they will come for them. it wasn't an option in 1941, it wasn't an option in 2019, and it isn't an option in 2023. aziraphale begins shaking his head - crowley is confessing, but a) aziraphale doesn't run from things, it isnt in his character, and b) it's just putting them back where they started - something that they have to hide. it defeats the purpose.

and this? yeah, im sure on neither side it was meant the way im about to interpret it, more of an unspoken thing, idk... but if the bookshop is indeed their place of safety, and is where they (as far as crowley sees it) can speak and keep their love, it makes sense that crowley is telling aziraphale he needs to stay. the bookshop can be interpreted so many ways - it represents their relationship, or that crowley means him, himself - but what if we looked at it like crowley is trying now to covet it, because it's protecting them? what if he's saying, "well, if you won't run away with me, we can't be free to have our relationship as we wanted it, not unless we stay here... heaven has come for you, has come for us, and whilst they're here we can't move. so what other option is left remain in this bookshop? to never leave it, and what we have inside it, because there's no other option in which we can be together if you won't run with me."

and what if aziraphale is saying, "no, i have an option, and that's to be together in heaven! they won't be able to do anything, not when im in the position the metatron has offered me, that can be our new bookshop... nothing lasts forever - this bookshop won't last forever, it's compromised, and we can't continue to secret away what we feel inside it, it's time to move forward."

welcome to the line that breaks my heart the most in this whole goddamn scene - and tbh i think is fairly self-explanatory in the hypothetical s3-1941 context. that aziraphale is trying, once again, to tell crowley that he is offering himself, letting them be an 'us', as crowley says shortly after - that before he couldnt do it, and these arent the best of circumstances, but they can finally do it and not have to hide in the bookshop. but crowley reminds him, "hey, i was in your shoes, remember. i wanted us to be together then, and you told me you couldn't, didn't want a halfway measure - well, now i don't either. and this will be a halfway measure, because i don't think us being together in heaven is going to go the way you hope it will. i understand a whole lot better than you do." in any case, it would explain why aziraphale choses this moment to look so devastated. this is what he promised crowley, but now crowley - to his mind, in the things left Unsaid - doesn't want it... him.

and then... back to the nightingales. they're not singing at all, not even under the rumble of traffic, like they were at the Ritz. they're completely absent - day has broken, the things unspoken have now been said, and there's no denying them anymore. from crowley's point of view, there was nothing to stop them this time, but if aziraphale won't run with him, then they have to go separate ways, because there is no other way. aziraphale knows there's the possibility that the only place they could actually be safe is heaven itself, that the bookshop was never as safe as they hoped it had been, but that crowley might actually come to see that. but the fact that crowley is resigned to just... returning to 'reality', to a world that's still turning where they aren't together? despite everything they've just said? "we could've been... us." well, that hurts.

and then... the kiss. now. im still of the mind that the kiss was an Issue. i definitely think it was meant out of love and desperation, and out of possibly being a goodbye. this would echo the hypothetical s3-1941 kiss... but it was hurtful. it was abrupt, and harsh, and not at all romantic (imo). it was possessive, and almost cruel. i do think still it was a last ditch attempt, a temptation, to get aziraphale to change his mind, before crowley leaves the shop and returns to the 'real world'. but it hurts aziraphale in many different ways - but with 1941 put in there, too? crowley is just testing his resolve, trying to push him, come around to giving in. crowley asked him to forgive him the last time he kissed aziraphale, and this time - this time, aziraphale is giving him what he asked for.

[foxyarchive]

Your Guardian Angel(Or Devil) P1

You're an average young woman, just trying to live your life. After almost meeting your untimely demise one night, you're saved by a foul-mouthed divine being who claims to be your Guardian Angel, AND the first man.

OR; Adam is your Guardian Angel who swoops in to save you when you need it, and also pesters you whenever he feels like it. This arrangement is fun for neither of you.

Cross Posted on AO3!

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive comments, Adam being Adam.....

Words: ~7K

May end up being a two parter because that's all I have ideas for, but definitely down to write more of Reader and Adam together if you all wanna send me ideas here or on my AO3! Enjoy!

P1 | P2 | P3

Today had, certainly, been one of the days of all time. 

It had started off with the coffee maker essentially breaking. You’d managed to get about half of a cup of the normal amount of coffee you made while you were throwing together some breakfast for yourself. When you’d went over to investigate to try brewing again, nothing was happening. If the red, soulless, blinking light on your maker was anything to go by, it was that the damned thing had died. 

With a sigh, you ended up pouring an overabundance of your preferred mix-in while eating your quick little breakfast. You were already running a bit behind. In a rush to finish getting ready, you’d ended up smudging a bit of the lipstick you had put on, forcing you to be even more behind as you needed to clean it off and reapply anything necessary. 

You’d finally grabbed your bag and were out the door, and when you got in your car, saw that you were nearly out of gas. You tried to think; What in the Hell would compel you to leave your car on nearly empty and not fill up after work? It was then, you recalled, wanting to catch the season finale of a show last night with your friend. You’d hurried home, and had just said to yourself you’d wake up early this morning and fill up before going to work. 

Of fucking course today had to be the day you woke up a bit later after staying up unusually late last night. A groan split from your throat, rubbing your temple with two fingers. You hadn’t packed a lunch, either, so guess you were going hungry most of the day beside some of the snacks in your drawer. You wouldn’t have enough time to get gas and lunch on your break. At this point, all you could do was pray that you’d be able to make it to a gas station after work. You did have an… Unconventional guardian angel, after all, so surely it would all work out…

Speaking of guardian angel…

“Yo, I don’t know if you can, uh, hear me right now… I mean, I assume you can, if you’re, like, kinda omnipotent or whatever, but… Try and make my day a little better, alright?” You said, somewhat awkwardly to the empty air around you in your car as you drove to work. No response. You felt like a mad woman. 

With a sigh, you just continued your drive. Finding parking at the office went awful, no surprise, and you walked in about seven minutes after you were supposed to clock in. Your boss didn’t say anything, but the stare given to you was enough to know that your tardiness was apparent. All you could do right now was just keep your head down and check your emails from your clients and work diligently. 

Thankfully, the day was going by smoothly… So far. Besides needing to put a fire via email, and your pencil cup holder being somehow knocked over twice mysteriously(you sent a glare over your shoulder every time but didn’t see anyone), you had nothing else to complain about. That was, until just before lunch, you felt a cramp. At first, you thought it was a hunger pain, and tried to shift to brush it off. The more you cramped, though, you felt it lower in your gut, and your heart sank. No shot, your cycle wasn’t supposed to be for another few days!

You cursed to yourself, deciding to take an early lunch to check. You shuffled through your drawer to see if you had anything– Tampons, pads, a cup, something to try and stop the flow while you were at work. Nothing. Great. You grumbled to yourself, getting up to head to the bathroom. The company you worked for was fairly small, the middle ground between a small business owner and a blossoming corporation, so nothing for feminine sanitation was available in either bathrooms.

Sitting down in the restroom, you shucked your pants and underwear down, groaning at the sight of a faint bit of blood splattering your underwear. “Motherfu…” Your grumble trailed off whilst you  suppressed the urge to rub at your face in frustration. Instead, you just made a rather unsavory hand gesture with both of your hands to nobody in particular. Well, actually, yes there was somebody in particular, but you couldn’t see him right now. You weren’t even sure if he could see you, but it certainly made you feel better. 

Stifling a groan, you wrapped some toilet paper around your underwear to try and soak up anything for now. After you were redressed and hands were washed, you headed back to your desk to eat a measly granola bar and some dried fruit, before clocking back in and continuing on with your day. 

After getting yelled at over the phone by a client for something that wasn’t even your fault, as well as accidentally spilling some water over your keyboard while staying late, work was over for the day. You were just looking forward to going home, taking a nice, hot shower, and watching whatever brain rot you decided to indulge in tonight. Maybe with some ice cream. You were once more reminded, though, that you needed to get gas in your car once you got in and started it up. The nearest gas station wasn’t incredibly close, so you were biting your lip the entire time you drove there. 

You nearly slumped in relief when you saw it right around the corner, but any relief that was in your veins washed away as you pulled up just inside of the parking lot, and your car began to roll. You pushed on the gas rapidly, but nothing was happening. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck–” You began to freak out, before relaxing somewhat. It would just… Roll to one of the pumps, right? Wrong, apparently. Oh, so, very wrong. There was a slight incline upwards to the gas pumps, and to your horror, the car started to even roll backwards. 

“No!” You gasped, quickly putting it into park. You took in a small, shuddering breath, putting it back into drive as you tried to push on the gas again. Nothing. You’d run out literally right inside the gas station lot. Due to leaving work later than normal because of not only coming in late, but needing to deal with an unruly client, nobody else was here at the moment. Nobody could help you. For what felt like the umpteenth time that day, another groan left your lips as your head slammed back against the carseat head. 

With now an annoyed snarl, you pushed open your car door, slamming it as you walked around to the back of your car after putting it in neutral. “Okay… Okay, I can do this… Just a small nudge up the hill… It’s barely a hill, too, it’s fine, I can move a couple hundred… Thousand…” You uttered to yourself, trying to hype up as you shifted foot from foot. After some brief stretching, you placed your hands on the back of your car, beginning to slowly push it. Or, well, at least try to push it. You were so focused on your task, you didn’t even notice a figure pop up beside you. 

“‘Sup.” Adam greeted, causing you to gasp and nearly slip and fall in surprise. 

“Adam! Good God you have shitty timing.” You groaned, slumping against the back of your car. You were already exhausted and you hadn’t even been trying to push for two minutes!

“Hey, what’d I say? Good girls only get into Heaven by not using the Lord’s name in vain.” He drawled, boredly, leaning against the side of your car as he looked over his nails. Well, more aptly, his fingers. He had gloves on, after all, so obviously it was just for show, and it just irritated you more. About to bite out a response, he beat you to it by finally surveying the situation. “Pfffft–” Came from him as he grinned, before he started to laugh, backing away from your car and pointing at you. “What– What the fuck are you doing? Did you run out of gas?”

“S-Shut up!” You snapped, face flushing warm in embarrassment as he laughed at you, but he didn’t yield. You stomped your foot in irritation, a small whine leaving your throat as you realized just how stupid the whole situation was. “It’s not funny!”

“Hah– Haha– I hate to tell you, sugartits, but it’s actually hilarious.” He finally calmed down, wiping an invisible tear from his face with a sigh and smug smile, putting his hands on his hips. He didn’t seem to be phased by your anger at all. “Aww, you’re so cute when you’re mad.” He inched towards you, ignoring your seething expression as he patted your head. “Like a wittle angwy kitty–” 

“Fuck you.” You snarled out, slapping his hand away as you turned back to your car, and he was the one who scoffed like he’d been offended. The nerve. “Some fuckin’ angel you are, laughing at my misery.” You grouse, turning back to your vehicle, placing your hands on the back once more. 

He just offers a roll of his eyes. Or, well, what appears to be a roll with the incline he makes with his head. He doesn't have pupils, after all. “Babes, it’s not the first time I have, and it’s definitely not gonna be the last.” Comes his response, and he seems once more impassive to the glare you send him before you focus back ahead. “I mean, c’mon, I already gotta look after your ass, I wanna get some amusement out of it. Speaking of looking at ass…” You’re bent forward again, trying to push the car forward with all of your might. You did manage to roll it maybe a few inches, but it once again left you exhausted. You caught Adam looking at your butt with an appreciative view on his face. “You should wear shorter skirts–” He begins to speak, but you cut him off this time. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” You snip, bristling at his suggestive commentary as you stand here and struggle your way forward. “If you’re just going to stand there and be inappropriate, then will you kindly piss off?” You huff, looking back at your car once more. 

“Fine, be a cunt, see if I care.” He scoffs out in response, flipping you the bird as he turns away. It’s then, suddenly, you realize maybe work has really dulled your mind. He’s your guardian angel, it’s his job to help you!

“Wait, wait!” You sigh out, exasperated, as you turn and grab for him, thankful he didn’t just poof away yet. You reach for his robes, but end up grabbing one of his wings as they flared out, yanking back. 

“Ow, bitch, watch the feathers!” He snarls out, turning on you with a glare of his own. He draws his wing over to him, brushing his hand against it with a sneer as he looks down at you. “The fuck you want? Want to apologize for your bratty behavior?” He huffs, and you can’t suppress a roll of your eyes, try as you might. 

“No, I’d like your help in pushing my car up to a pump.” You’re growing more and more weary by the minute. How has literally nobody else pulled into the gas station? At this point, maybe you should just ask the worker inside to help you. He just crosses his arms, raising a brow at your request. 

“And why should I help you?” He decides to play coy, and you grit both your jaw and hands into fists. 

“Because you’re my guardian angel! You’re literally supposed to help me!” Comes your snappy response, and he taps a finger to his chin, pondering with a ‘hmmm’, as if actually thinking about your response. 

“Mmm… Yeah, nah, babes, not how that works. What part of ‘guardian’ do you not fuckin’ understand? You want a dictionary, bitch?” He snaps his fingers, the thick book appearing in his hand in a puff of golden dust as he offers it out to you. “Why don’t you look up the definition of it and study up?” You eye twitches as you none too kindly shove his arm away from you that offers you the dictionary. 

“I know what it means, I don’t need to look it up!” You hiss out. You’re almost on the verge of tears, now, as the frustration burns through your entire being. You’re hungry, cramping and aching, and stressed out about this whole thing. You’re not sure if Adam seems to notice this, with the slight way you see the hard edges around his smug grin soften some. Either he doesn’t care or notice, though, as you continue on. “I could be in danger! I-I mean, if I don’t move the car, someone will pull forward, and if they don’t pay attention they could run right into me! Then I would be hurt! And maybe even die!” You emphasize with a wave of your hands. 

He doesn’t seem very moved by your speech, the book disappearing from his hands as he crosses his arms once more. “Mm… Kay, then I’ll just pluck you out of the way. I mean, I don’t see what you’re getting at here, ‘tits. Sounds like you want me to do all the work for your fuck up.” He motions lazily with a hand towards the car, and boy if you weren’t ready to burst into tears before, you are now, because, honestly? He’s right. You’re the reason you’re in this mess. He’s clearly soaking up your suffering as well, a sly smile slowly spreading across his features as he sees you try to blink back tears of frustration. 

He finally takes some pity on you. Well, what Adam would consider pity, at least. “What’s in it for me, huh?” He leers, taking a step over you. He towers over you easily, inhumanly tall. Whereas it intimidated you at first, now? It just pisses you off more, because it’s something else he has to lord over you. You don’t know why he does when he’s already some super powerful angel, according to him, but he clearly likes to put you in your place. Remind you you’re just some mortal human in a realm of other, shitty mortal humans. 

So, when he asks what he gets out of this, you’re at a loss. You open your mouth, closing it, frowning. What could you offer someone like Adam? You peer up at him, not liking the way that sly grin on his face grows, somewhat leering even, now. “Well… What do you want?” You finally ask, and immediately regret it as his hand comes down to grope your ass. You squeak, more so from the grip than surprise, because really, you shouldn’t be surprised. “Something that’s not part of my body! I’m on my period, too.” You huff out, face and ears burning, and he immediately makes a face and retracts his hand. 

“Hmmm…” He rubs his chin in thought, actual thought now, as he turns to pace. His wings are tucked back under his arms, which you keep meaning to ask it about because truthfully, you find it adorable. You didn’t think angels presented their wings like that, but it makes some sense. “Oh! What was that, fucking uuuhhh… Ice cream thing with the fudge in the middle? With all that candy shit on top?” He snaps his fingers, looking back at you. You draw a blank, briefly, before recognizing what he’s talking about. 

“You mean… A blizzard?” You ask, slowly, and he grins, nodding eagerly. 

“Yeah, yeah! Buy me one of those and I guess we’ll call it the start to being even.” He states, and your eye twitches again. 

“The ‘start’?” You emphasize, and Adam just waves his hand dismissively. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, the other thing I phone in will be somethin’ simple. Promise promise.” He insists, and at this point, you’re so desperate you don’t question it. You did say you wanted ice cream, after all… You’re also sure he wouldn’t ask for anything absurd either. 

“...Fine.” You relent, motioning him over as you make some room to push the car once more. He pushes you out of the way, though, with one of his brilliantly golden wings, causing you to sputter as some of the feathers poke into your mouth and nostrils. 

“Get in the car, bitch. Guide us over to a pump.” He orders, and a huff leaves you, but you don’t resist. You’ll gladly take sitting in the car and turning the wheel over pushing with massive manual labor. Once in the driver's seat, you begin to turn the wheel enough to pull into one of the pump stations. Adam is… Freakishly strong, to no surprise, and it honestly feels like you’re actually driving with how fast the car is going. Driving at an incredibly slow speed, but one nonetheless. When you finally stop at a pump, you put the car in park with a sigh, feeling significantly more relieved and less stressed. 

You get out, locking it up as you head for the gas station store. “Uh, you’re fuckin’ welcome!” You hear Adam scoff, and you suppress a roll of your eyes if only because he did actually help you out. 

“Thank you, Adam.” You relent, turning around. “So very kind of you, I would be at a loss without you.” Is tacked on at the end, and he just smirks, strutting over to you. 

“I know. I’m the best. Doncha forget it, sugartits.” He responds as a sigh leaves you. 

“You want a snack?” You offer out, deciding to play nice, and he grins. 

“Uh, fuck yes.” He agrees, perking up even more as you both walk into the convenience store. You decide to get an electrolyte drink for yourself, since you’re feeling awfully thirsty and tired. Adam grabs some beef jerky, and as you go to the counter to pay, he speaks up. “Shit, wait, hold on– I want those cheesy crackers.” He states, and you roll your eyes but wait as the cashier rings up your other items. You hold your hand out as Adam comes back over, taking the bag in your hand to offer up to the cashier, digging through your wallet to get out something to pay 

When you realize the bag hasn’t been taken out of your hand, you look up, confused. The cashier looks at you, his eyes wide, mouth agape. “Um…” You shift, awkwardly. Did you have something on your face?

“The fuck is this guy’s problem?” The angel barks out behind you, and you set the bag down, watching the cashier’s eyes follow it incredulously. Your brow furrows, before you suddenly put two and two together. 

“Oh, shit,” You utter out in realization. Adam had given you that bag. And you were the only one who could see Adam. Oh God, that isn’t good. 

“This guy have shit-for-brains? Seriously, if he stares any longer, he’s gonna start drooling, and–” You shift your leg back, pressing down somewhat firmly onto Adam’s foot. “Hey, bitch, watch where you’re stepping! You just–” You turn around to face him, but purposefully look right through him. Towards where he’d grabbed the bag, and then you tap it slightly. You hope he can get it through his thick skull what you’re trying to imply. “...Ooohhh…” It finally dawns on him, his eyes widening as he looks at the isle, and then at you, then at the worker. “Oh, shit.” He echoes you, before he briskly moves you aside again with his arm. “Move, bitch, let me handle this.”

He stands in front of the worker, snapping his fingers in front of the cashier’s face, a puff of golden dust emanating from his hand. The other human blinks, a glazed look coming over his eyes as he stares at nothing in particular now. “Okay, let’s go, he won’t remember a thing.” Adam urges, and you stutter. You barely have time to slap down some money on the counter and grab your things before you’re shuffled outside. You’re antsy as you pay at the pump and put in your gas, and when you’re filled up enough you get in the car and drive off. 

“You can’t just do shit like that, Adam!” You finally speak up once you’re driving away, the firstborn lounging in your backseat due to just being too big to sit up front. 

“I fuckin’ forgot, okay!?” He huffs out, his wings fluffing out indignantly as he sprawls out. You slap one of his wings back as it curls forward and brushes against your head and neck, not only making you shiver, but blocking you from seeing out your review mirror and back window. 

“Wings down in the car, what have I said before!?” You chastise, and he just scoffs, sitting up, hunching forward as he rests an arm on your middle console. 

“Jeeze, chillax, babes! I wiped his mind, he’s not going to remember it, why you still got your panties in a twist?” He sneers, and you growl out, carefully maneuvering to grab one of the horns on his head to push it down more. “Hey, hey, hey, fuckin’ watch the mask, bitch! You don’t get to manhandle the original dick!” 

“I can’t fucking see with your giant ass head in the way!” Your clipped response comes out, before you realize something. “Wait– This is a mask?” You’re still holding onto one of the horns, and shake it a bit. He growls out and swats your hand away, which you don’t fight against as you put your hand back on the wheel. 

“Pfft, uh, yeah? What, did you think this was actually my face?” He’s resting his head on the console now, pointing to his apparent mask, smirking up at you. You flounder, briefly, mouth opening, before it closes. 

“...I mean. Honestly? Yeah. You eat with it. How does that even work!?” You glance at him, eyes wide, and his smirk just lengthens. 

“Angelic magic, ‘tits. Fancy as fuck and cooler than anything you mortals got down here in your sorry realm.” He enlightens, and you don’t have a smart comeback for that because he’s right. 

“...Pretty cool, actually. Can I have one someday?” You ask, and he curls himself back, splaying out once more across your car’s back seats. 

“Maaaaybe. Usually only the big dogs like me get somethin’ this sick.” He responds, shifting multiple times to try and get comfortable. You just roll your eyes as you pull up to the drive-thru, waiting your turn, before glancing back at him. 

“Can I see your real face?” You decide to inquire, and he raises a brow at your question, now chewing none-too-quietly on some beef jerky. 

“Uh, you wanna owe me more?” He snorts, and you just scoff in reply, looking ahead as you pull up a bit more. 

“Didn’t realize I’d have to owe you for you taking your mask off.” You mutter out, and he laughs somewhat, sitting up with another fluff of his wings. You don’t call him out on it for now since you’re just sitting in line. 

“Can’t get something for nothing, babes. Not a whole lotta people get to see the OG’s face, and I don’t think some fuckin’ mortal is gonna see it.” He chews some more on his snack, and you hold your hand out for a piece. He glares at you, before relenting and handing you a small strip, which you gnaw on to sate your hunger. May as well pick up dinner here too, then. 

“I’m just ‘some fuckin’ mortal’ to you?” You scoff in response, placing a hand to your chest in faux offense. “I thought what we had was special, Adam!” He rolls his eyes at your theatrics, flicking your head, and you scowl in response. 

“Nah, you ain’t special, bitch. Well, I guess you are maybe a little. After all, not everyone’s guardian is–”

“The original dick, yeah, yeah, I get it.” You grouse, and now he looks offended that you interrupted him, before shrugging it off because clearly what he’s saying means something. He goes quiet, though, as you pull up to order. You get him a blizzard, and yourself some ice cream as well as dinner. 

“Hey, wait, I want something else!” He whines, shoving his head forward once again, and you frown, looking at him. God, how much could he eat? “Gimme uhhh… That! And, oh, also that!” He’s pointing at items on the menu, moreso the pictures, and you glare at him. You can’t speak, as the woman through the speaker could still hear you, and he just looks at you. “What? Order, bitch, there’s people behind you!” You just continue to glare, and he glares back, eyes squinting. “Uggghh, what do you want from me? I can’t fuckin’ pay, I don’t have your stupid Earth money.” Still silence. The woman at the speakers asks if you want anything else, and you tell her to hold on as you stare Adam down. 

He taps his finger on your console impatiently, before groaning and throwing his head back. “Fine! This can be the other part of what you owe me.” He sighs out, and you decide to cut your losses and accept that. You turn back to the speaker, ordering what he wants as well, before driving forward, waiting for the car ahead of you to get their food. 

“Do you think I’m made of money or something? I’m barely making ends meet.” You speak up, finally, rubbing one of your eyes as you try to stave off the tired ache in your body. Your cramps are starting to kick back up, too, and that’s definitely not helping. 

“Sounds like a you problem.” Is all Adam replies as he leans back again, and your jaw grits. 

“It is a me problem, so I can’t keep buying you stuff you probably get for free up in Heaven!” You growl out, irritation with him flaring once more. Asshole is so ungrateful… Why did you even buy him anything? “Do you even have to pay rent in Heaven?” You then ask, and he laughs. 

“Fuck no!” He grins, before pausing. “Well, sorta. You get like, a free place and whatever, but if you want somethin’ bigger and better you gotta pay for it.” He explains, and you frown at that. 

“So, wait. You do gotta work in Heaven?” You blanch, because that sounds awful. Great, you have something to not look forward to even after you die, now. Well, if you want to Heaven, anyways… You have a guardian angel, so you assume that you will, but Adam is hardly angel material. In fact, you’re starting to wonder if this is a test from the Heavens, seeing how much good will you have to not snap and throttle your guardian…

“Sorta?” He gives the same response, picking at his teeth– Mask?-- With his pinky. He doesn’t even look at you. “You don’t gotta. You can just walk around and do whatever you want, but some stuff you gotta actually pay for. Luxuries, like certain entertainment, shops, establishments… You get the idea.” He finally looks at you, resting his hands on his stomach as he leans against the door of your car. 

You turn back ahead as the vehicle in front of you pulls forward. “Huh…” You mutter, thoughtful. Well, you hoped you could at least be good at something else in Heaven, because you were definitely not wanting to do the job you had currently up after crossing the pearly gates. You hand your card over to the cashier to pay, and put all the food in the front seat. Adam subtly reaches for his blizzard, which you slap his hand away subtly. No way you’re driving around with what would look like a floating ice cream to everyone else. He pouts, but doesn’t complain, and you drive off after you have everything. 

The distance from your apartment to the fast food place you just stopped at is short, and already worn out by today’s events, you just opt to turn on the radio and listen to music. Adam takes over, of course, turning it onto some barely withstandable hard rock as he jams out in the back seat with an air guitar. You try and not let any tired, resting bitch face take over, but it’s so, so difficult to. Once you park in your spot, it’s already decently late. It’s dark out, and you don’t see anyone else around, so you let Adam help you carry your food. 

You look up, able to see your balcony from where you’re standing, and grimace at the thought walking three stories. The elevator it is, then, you decide with a heavy sigh. “Alright, up ya go.” Adam suddenly speaks up, and you’re confused, until you feel an arm wrap around your middle. 

“What do you– meeeeeaaaannn!” You suddenly shriek out as his wings flare, and he pushes himself and you effortlessly upwards with a beat of them. Seconds later, you land on your balcony with him, trembling, cold and startled at the sudden interaction. 

“Theeeere ya go, sweet-tits, saved ya some time, didn’t I? I know, I know, I’m the greatest.” He grins, puffing out of existence, before he reappears inside of your house. He unlocks your sliding door, and you walk in, still more pale before and slow. “Pfft, you should see the look on your face. Hilarious. I’ll have to do that more often.”

“You– You know you can’t!” You sputter out, glaring at him as you set down the food you’re holding, putting your hands on your hips. He just looks at you, boredly, as he tosses some fries in his mouth. 

“Wassa big deal? Nobody saw.” He speaks through chewing, and you wrinkle your nose, turning around and shutting the door while you pull the blinds closed. 

“What if somebody did see, though!? And we didn’t even know! This is the age of technology, Adam, anyone could be filming for any reason!” You counter, watching in irritation as he flops down on the giant beanbag you have in your small living room in lieu of a couch. 

“Even if someone did see it, nobody would believe it. I know those fake ass videos that circulate all the time online of some mysterious shit happening which is obviously just not real.” He seems extremely unbothered by this, which is somewhat concerning. That meant either you were really getting up in arms about this for no reason, or he just didn’t want to admit to making a mistake. You’d heard the phrase ‘angels don’t make mistakes’ or something similar quite a few times from him. You just shoot him a glare as he waves a hand and magics over your remote as he flips the TV on, munching on the food he got. 

“Food’s gonna get cold if you don’t eat, babes.” He chirps out, flicking through channels, and you pinch the bridge of your nose and utter under your breath. You never win any arguments with him. Why do you even bother? With a sigh, you grab your food and sit next to him on the beanbag. It’s normally enough to fit at least three or four people, but with how large Adam is, it looks like it’s really just meant for two people. You sit cross legged as you eat, another silence finally lapsing between the both of you. Adam can’t shut up most of the time, and even while he’s eating he’s making quips at the show you’re watching. 

“Fuckin’ women argue so much, why did they make a show about it?” He comments while he chews, and you click the remote to see what you’re even watching with a roll of your eyes. The Real Housewives. Great. This one isn’t even set in your area. 

“I think it’s all fabricated.” You comment in response. Adam’s done with his food, eating his ice cream, and you’re almost finished with your main meal. 

“Why? Wouldn’t it be more interesting if it was real beef?” He scoffs, and you shrug. 

“Well, yeah, but rarely is it actually as entertaining as this.” You motion to the screen, grimacing as you see one of the women throw a fork at the other. This was so dumb. Adam seems to agree, as he snorts and changes the channel. 

When you’re both completely finished eating, you lounge with him. It’s a bit strange, you admit, having your supposed ‘guardian angel’ just relaxing with you. He’s a divine being; The first man! Yet he’s here, kicking back on your beanbag like he’s some buddy of yours. You don’t tell him to get out, though, because deep down, despite how much of an awful prick he can be… you kinda like the company. You have friends, sure, but they’re all busy with their own lives. Adam? You’re not entirely sure what his life in Heaven is like. You don’t know his responsibilities, but it must not be much if he can just come down here and kick it with you whenever. 

You try to drown these contemplative thoughts out with television, but you find it difficult to do as another pang lights your stomach. You groan out, shifting a bit, rubbing at the cramps. Right, you’d nearly forgotten about those. You should go and put something on for the blood, but… Goddamn you don’t wanna get up. Instead, you just roll around slightly on the beanbag, groaning, trying to get comfortable. Adam, blissfully, doesn’t say anything. At first, at least. When you finally moan out in pain, though, and your head slumps against his arm, he scoffs, lifting his arm to look down at you. Your head thumps against his side. 

“The fuck you makin’ so much noise for?” He complains, and you pout, mildly glaring at his crass attitude. 

“Told you earlier, on my period… Cramps reeaaallly blow.” You utter out, somewhat muffled due to your cheek resting against his side. 

“Sucks to suck, woman.” He sneers, and you resist the urge to bite him. Just barely. Your glare certainly says enough, though. 

“Please tell me there’s no periods in Heaven.” You sigh as you roll onto your back, peering up miserably at the angel next to you. 

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ in his response, and you sigh in relief. “Actually, I can just make it so you don’t have it anymore.” He suddenly mentions, and you gasp, sitting up to look at him. 

“What? Really?” You grin in excitement at the thought, and he looks at you slyly. 

“Yeeep. Only for about nine months at a time, though.” He looks back at his gloved nails, and you tilt your head in confusion. 

“That’s… Oddly specific. Why?” You ask, curious. He narrows his eyes at you, grin never leaving his face as he waggles his eyebrows at you. A heated warmth blossoms fiercely across your cheeks and body as you suddenly understand what he’s insinuating. 

“Stop being so horny!” You growl out, shoving him as he starts laughing, slapping you with his wing as you stumble to your feet. 

“Hey! You know how many chicks are lining up to ride original dick?” He finally huffs out after he’s finished with his laughing fit, pointing down at his crotch. 

“I can imagine not very many if you’re here pestering me, still.” You roll your eyes, and his wings flare out in anger at that as he gets up. 

“You got no fuckin’ idea! Bitches and groupies are lining up to see me after a show, and even on the streets. I’ve been looking after you for like– What– a few months? You haven’t gotten laid once, so you can cut the cool act and just start begging whenever you want. You’ll be thanking me after.” He insists, waving his arms about as his wings give a beat of frustration. It knocks over a paper mache piece one of your friends made for you, and nearly bowls your cat off of his feet as he comes strolling into the room, although he seems none the wiser to what the wind actually was. You just offer Adam a hard stare as you swoop down to pick up the paper mache, setting it neatly back where it was. 

“Is that even allowed?” You can’t help but to ponder, never having of really broached the topic with him. Sure, he was usually horny around you. Made innuendos and suggestive comments(occasional groping), but he’d never actually really tried anything. 

“Is what allowed?” He’s gotten distracted by your cat, squinting at him as he strolls about your living room, sticking his head into the now empty paperbag of one of your meals. 

“You fucking…” You try to think of what you are to him. You don’t know the term, so instead you just settle on, “Me?”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. I’m Adam.” Comes his smug response, an equally smug look on his face as his arms cross and he peers down at you. Okay, that’s not a… Real answer, but you suppose you’re not going to get a real answer out of him. You open your mouth, before closing it, deciding to wave him off, uttering that you’ll be back. You head into your bathroom, finally grabbing something to help your blood flow. You also decide to take something to alleviate your cramps a bit, and when you walk back into your main room, you hear Adam. “Hey, pussy, that’s mine!” You walk over, seeing Adam crouched over your cat, glaring at him as he snacks on a fry from inside the bag. So much for being empty. 

He then deftly takes the fry from your cat, sticking his tongue out at him as the feline meows pitifully, confused at the fry dangling from nothing in front of him. “Hey, don’t be mean! He found that fair and square, give it back!” You counter, walking over and snatching the fry out of Adam’s fingers. The angel scowls at you as you toss the fry back down for your little boy to consume, and you pet him lovingly. 

“Don’t think a cat is supposed to eat that shit.” He grimaces, and you just shrug. 

“He can have a little treat. It’s okay.” You decide, picking up the rest of the empty bags and containers as you move to throw them away. “You staying the night or something?” You can’t help but to tease Adam. He doesn’t normally hang around you for this long. In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s only supposed to be here when you’re in real trouble, but you’re not entirely sure what defines that. Maybe he has some premonition about when you’ll get in trouble, so perhaps that’s why he’s sticking around. 

“Why, you want me to?” He arches his brows again, and you roll your eyes, not gracing him with a response. “No way, I got shit to do back up top. I’m important, you know, can’t just spend all the time hangin’ out with some mortal. Much as you’d like me to, I know I know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You utter under your breath, and before he has a moment to ask what you said, you pipe up, “Are you even allowed to be doing this? Just like, hanging out? And, no,” You start as he opens his mouth to reply. “I don’t want to hear ‘I’m Adam, I can do what I want’ because really that holds no ground.” 

“Uh, the fuck it doesn’t! It holds all the ground.” He scoffs. “You may hate the answer, but it’s the truth, babes. Heaven is way better than this shithole you live in, but sometimes it gets so booooring. You guys keep it fresh down here.” He grins, somewhat wicked as he advances towards you, before pausing. “Oh, shit, you know what you should do?” You offer him an uncertain look. “Go to a concert! Or festival! They fuckin’ rock down here.” He throws up the devil’s horns. 

“And… Why would I do that?” You frown. 

“So I can watch, duh.” He crosses his arms, and you just raise a brow.

“Can’t you just go fly to a concert somewhere and watch it?” You inquired, flopping back down on your beanbag with a grimace as another cramping spasm rips through your body. 

“Not really, nah. If I come down to Earth, I’m basically tied to you. Gotta stick around you within a certain area sorta deal.” He explains, and you make a small noise of surprise. You suppress the urge to say, ‘I thought you were Adam and could do whatever you wanted’, but you don’t because you don’t want him going off on a rant about it. 

“Well, I’ll think about it. Concerts aren’t really my thing.” You admit, trying to decide one what to watch the rest of the night. Your cat comes up, purring as he settles on your stomach, and you groan out at the pressure it applies. 

“You should make it your thing and stop being so fucking boring” He huffs. 

“If I’m so boring then why did you hang around me for so long today?” You stick your tongue out as part of your response, and Adam’s wings fluff up and flare at the accusation. He opens his mouth to respond, then closes it, eyes narrowing along with his brows. 

“Because… Free food, that’s why. Fuck you, later loser!” He flips you the bird again with both hands this time, sticking his own tongue out, before he’s gone in a puff of golden glitter. It sizzles around you, falling to the ground as it disperses, and you sigh out. You pet your cat, laying your head back on the beanbag. 

“...Hope you don’t think I’m crazy.” You rumble to your cat as you scratch him behind the ears. It’s just you and him, now, and you don’t know when Adam will pop up again. You realize, with a pang in your chest, that you miss him already. What a dangerous game you were playing, talking so freely with your divine guardian. 

[shittalkcornstalk]

“Take One For The Team”

Synopsis- After finding out your Captain has been giving you special treatment, your friends convince you to flirt your way into getting the crew some much needed time off.

Warnings- xfemreader! , Use of Y/n, 18+ minor dni, Eventual Smut, mild manipulation on your part, alcohol use, weapons mention, age gap mention, Buggy is kind of creepy just a little

Word Count 2.4k

Author’s Note - Hi! As you might notice this is my first post! It’s also my first time sharing something I’ve written before , but something about that clown awoken something in me :) Let me know if there’s anything I missed tags or warning wise! I have two more chapters done that I’ll release if everything works out.

Chapter One “A Test Run”

You’d been sailing along Buggy’s crew for the last 6 months, helping in raids and preparing for the grandline. After some incidents with an up and comer Buggy had been much less inclined to leave anything up to chance. Now running the ship with the aid of Alvida and hiring on more freaks to service his mission, his goal of the one piece was set in motion, and very little was going to stop this determination.

At first you weren't a particularly skilled fighter, but you could do a bit of maintenance around the ship, and were willing to train at your weak points. When you first joined you were worried about your position as the only other woman on the crew besides Alvida Being surrounded by a considerable amount of dangerous men had you a bit on edge, but Cabaji had made arrangements for you in a small closet converted into private quarters within your first week on the ship. At least that's who you thought made that happen. Throughout these last months you found yourself rising in ranks rather quickly. You’d been gaining some talents in hand to hand combat thanks to training, but making good friends of Cabaji and Moji had you sitting with the upper ranks of the crew sooner than you’d anticipated. And with that you noticed an increase in the quality of life. It was small, but the bathing supplies you were allotted became higher quality, they softened your hair and gave it a warm sweet smell. The food had gotten better, with larger portions. You hadn’t a clue what was happening beyond maybe who’d you been associating with. You seemed to have some power in play but you didn't know why. Until on night while you were out drinking with friends.

It has been a rather torturous day for you and your crew. Buggy had started an aggressive training regiment that left all of you tired and sore. You saw him watch over all of you, barking orders and sneering at anyone who tried to wimp out. You caught his eyes following you as you lunged forward punching the air, practicing your swings. He smirked at you before shifting his gaze elsewhere.

“Train harder! If you ever want to see your captain become king of the pirates you must work till you bleed!” He laughed at the sight of everyone.

God, it sucked. Your arms were aching and you started to really dislike the guy for his cruelty. You grasp at the cold mug of beer in front of you, chugging it down to cool yourself after today's workout. Cabaji and Moji are also exhausted relishing in their own self pity and pain.

“He’s such a tight wad right now. God will he just let up this act for one second? He’s been working us to the bone-“

“Hey, at least you get special treatment, think about how the rest of us are suffering” Moji groans out

You take a second to process what he said. What special treatment? You’d assume at least Buggy’s two right hand men were also getting some benefits.

“What do you mean by special treatment?” You look at them confused.

Moji puffs and takes a swig of his drink. “The fancy smelling soaps, the private room, hell you get almost twice the meat either of us get at meal time- you think we're all getting that? Have you seen the rooms, have you smelt us? You know you've been given special attention this entire time right? We thought you knew?” He points to Cabaji who nods in agreement.

“Yeah and they way you just so happened to go from cannon fodder to the captain’s table in a matter of weeks? We’re friends, don’t get that wrong, but our friendship only got you so far y/n. There were other things getting you to the table that quickly…”

They were both insinuating something, dancing around the elephant in the room, and you wanted to know what it was.

“Why though?”

“Please, you’ve got to be blind to not notice it. He watches you train a little too attentively, his eyes follow you around while you work. He made sure you were right by him at meal times. You're in a private room for ‘your safekeeping’. You get nicer clothes, you get extra beauty sleep , you get extended bathing hours. The captain got it bad- and you’ve never even clocked it?”

You stammered, your brain gets fuzzy. Captain Buggy has been giving you special treatment because he's got a thing for you. You feel a weight in your stomach as you consider all the things lining up in your head. He does look at you funny, in fact he’s looked at you that way since day one of recruitment. Did he hire you for that alone? Did you like him? Not really… He was a good captain until recently but now all you can think about is how hard he's been working you all. As far as you're concerned, whatever Buggy had wanted from you, wasn't gonna happen.

“Oh my god, how did I not notice it- I feel so stupid…” You groan, chugging the rest of your beer. “This entire time, he only had me on the crew to woo me-“ You stick out your tongue and lay your head on the table in defeat.

“Well now that you know, Moji and I have been talking and we think we can use this information to our advantage. Lighten our work load a bit-“

“And what do you mean by that?” You ask imparitively.

“Well here’s the thing now that you know the captain is putty in your hands, let's use that, c'mon take one for the team-“

“AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT!”

“Nothing crazy, but the captain has been in such a terrible mood lately and it's causing all of us to suffer- maybe if the girl he likes was a bit nicer, complimented him a bit more, played with her hair, other girly shit. He’d distracted enough to forget he's a total asshole.”

“yeah y/n its not like you have to sleep with him.” Moji motions with his hands in a comical way. “Just use some of that charm and get us a little more time off” he laughs into his drink. If you all hadn’t been so close and also a little drunk you’d punch both of them, you still kinda wanted to punch them…

“You guys are gross. That’ll never work. You are seriously overestimating this ‘feminine charm’ and crush shit, I’m sure captain would looooovvvee to hear how low you think of him right now-“

“No come on, give it a chance, tomorrow all you have to do is smile at him a little more, laugh at jokes-and and…” Cabaji thinks for a second…

“Touch his shoulder!” Moji finishes, “Then I bet he’ll let up! You’ll see! Just try it, our situation isn’t gonna get any worse if it doesn’t work…”

Moji and Cabaji jokingly give you puppy dog eyes and pout “Please for your best friends~”

“Ugh fine, but you owe me, both of you are taking over my chores for a week after tomorrow-“

“Deal!” They say in unison snickering to themselves.

The next day comes and it's time for you to embarrass yourself in front of everyone it seems. You take note to take a little extra time to get ready, nothing crazy , but looking disheveled isn't gonna help the plan. You make your way to the dock for training when you see Buggy, Cabaji, and Moji taking. Your two friends spot you first giving a wink and a smile and they say goodbye to the captain leaving you alone as you approach him. You take a deep breath and step forward.

“Good morning Captain Buggy~”

You try to be a little more melodic in the way you say his name, though it doesn't quite roll off your tongue that well. Buggy certainly didn’t notice that though cause he was already a little jumpy at your more aggressive approach. He blushes a bit and stifles a cough.

“G-Good morning Y/n, what brings you here this morning, shouldn’t you start training?” He's trying to keep cool, but now that you are well aware of his feelings you know he's bluffing. You can’t believe it but this might actually work.

“Is it so -bad- I wanted to greet my captain this morning?” God you are deluding yourself, but you do a tiny pout and the look on this man's face shifts. He's a mess and you have control.

“NOT AT ALL-“ He starts waving his hands. “I’m just not used to you being so…um…cordial-“ He giggles a bit to himself. Cordial was not the word he wanted to say and you knew it. You shift your eyes over to the two idiots watching the spectacle. They mock you with kissy faces, and like a lightbulb going off in one of their pea sized brains, they mimic the shoulder touch you agreed to. With a quick breath you look at Captain Buggy directly in the eye, batting your lashes, and curling your lips to talk.

“Captain Buggy?~” You let his name sit for a minute. He looks back at you, gulps, and waits.

“Yes?”

You take your hand lightly touching his bicep and softly rubbing it up to his shoulder. He jolts ever so slightly under your touch.

“I was just wondering what today's regiment was? We’re all so tired from yesterday's workout, and while we…I want to make sure we can serve you to the best of our abilities. I was wondering when our next rest day was?”

He gulps again, heavier, as if this man had swallowed a rock. He coughs to alleviate some of the tension in the air. And though you don’t fully know it yet he thinks he’s found his in to sweeten you up to him a bit. After all a girl like you does deserve a break, but if he only gives you a day off he’ll expose himself to everyone. He's gotta play it cool, still fulfilling your wishes but make it seem like he's in control.

“Why you happened to ask me on the perfect day doll-“ A nickname he’d never confronted you with before, but with his ego inflated he thought he'd slip that in “I was just about to tell the entire crew that all training was going to be canceled today” He moved his body to the crew to announce it but keeps his eyes on you expectely. “Proceed with normal chores, but today will be light work for all-'' He smiled at how great this plan is. Surely you’d start seeing him in better lighting with this generous offer.

Cabaji and Moji are celebrating by themselves at their hiding spot. Hi fiving each other and shooting you thumbs up. You look back at your captain, fully unaware that you’d scemed this outcome. You were suprised it worked this well, but this outcome made it seem like this was a much easier feat than you were expecting. You’d be able to get a lot more with very little it seems. And now that Cabaji and Moji have taken up your chores for the week, no training and no chores meant a full day of rest and relaxation for you. You could really get used to this. You smile to yourself, but Buggy, who really hasn't kept his eyes off of you this entire time, takes it as a compliment.

“ Take some of that much needed rest y/n, you deserve for how hard you work. After all, it's like you said you need energy to serve your captain.”

You shudder in your head at the implications of that last statement before grinning past the grimace on your face and leaving with a sweet plasticy “Thank you Captain Buggy-“ He waves you off, and you can definitely see his gaze linger on your ass.

“Gross…” You think to yourself.

Later that night you and the two others relish in a successful mission.

“It fucking worked!” Cabaji yelled clinking glasses with yours.

“It fucking worked…” You stare blankly groanin to yourself in self deprecation.

“Aw c'mon think about it we’d probably get a whole week off if you just sucked his d-“

You smack him before he can even finish the thought. You weren’t gonna become some toy just to get a bit more vacation time. You wouldn’t mind having the weekends off though, especially when you were docked in new cities. You could go shopping more, maybe go to the markets, try the spas… You could embarrass yourself a little if it meant that maybe…

“Listen I’ll agree it worked better than expected but we can’t jump to conclusions and say this’ll work all the time. Chances are this was a one time thing. Captain Buggy may not be the epitome of self restraint and class, but he’s not stupid-“

He’s stupid. Sure every day didn’t immediately become a luxury cruise in paradise but you'll be damned if your little giggles and hair flips didn't lighten the load for everyone around you. The captain was happier, calmer, and now that he was convinced he started hooking you in, he didn't take out a lot of that repressed anger he’d built up on the crew. It was smooth sailing for the most part. You’d say hello to him in the mornings, goodnight to him before leaving for your own quarters. You’d refer to him with full title as Captain Buggy, enunciate the words in a way he found irresistible, and of course Mojis patent pending ‘shoulder touch’. He swears you need to bottle and sell it. He was putty off this little attention you gave him, and for how little it was, you'd oblige to give it to him. You wonder if anyone had picked up on it, but you probably would have been mocked to hell for it, if anyone actually knew. So in secrecy you kept up this little crush act for as long as it could run.

[scuderiafemboy]

f1 lestappen database nini edition

notes: number 1) this can get outdated super easily… number 2) i also dont know how to link content as i dont use tumblr alot but upon request im remaking my twitter thread here number 3) im not putting the races in chronological order as im quite lazy

at the 2019 japanese gp, max and charles hit eachother into turn two.

max after the race on the crash:

“i just dont get it. there was no need to risk so much in turn two. cause at the end of the day, both of us had to pit.”

2019 austrian gp, 3 laps left into the race max overtook charles and won the grandprix.

charles at the postrace pressconference:

“as i said, ive done exactly the same thing from the first and the second lap so i didnt expect any contact on the second lap. as max said, i think he braked a little bit deeper. i dont know if he lost it or not but then there was the contact. i felt like i was quite strong in traction. on the first attempt i managed to have better traction and have my position. on the second one i couldnt do that cause i was off track.”

2019 silverstone gp, the race right after austria. max and charles closely battled for 10 laps straight

charles during the postrace press conference:

“the best move was probably the one on max, on the outside in copse, i think he just passed me and i passed him back around the outside of copse. i think that was definitely was one of the most exciting (moves) of the race… of my race!”

2020 sakhir gp, charles crashed into checo, forcing max to go wide and then also crash

max post race:

“i respect charles alot, hes a great driver but i think today was a bit too much. he asked me “what happened?” and i say “what do you mean “what happened” you crashed into sergio and i have to go around”. i think he will look back at the footage and i hope he will understand that that was maybe a bit too aggressive. which is a shame.”

charles on the beyond the grid podcast 2021, talking about his rivalry with max:

“its the same (their rivalry) at the moment its obviously a little bit deminished because i can not fight against him, unfortunately. but if you look at the fight in silverstone 2019, i think you can understand theres quite a bit of competition and its always been the case. i mean its nice; we have grown up together in karting weve been always fighting eachother and now we find ourselves again in formula 1. so its great and i cant wait to put the team back were it deserves to be and fight against max for the title.”

monaco gp 2021, during Q3 charles crashes which means max cant set a laptime

max postrace interview:

“he just clipped the wall initially and ended up where ive ended up twice [laughs] so its just unfortunate. ofcourse i am disappointed not to have a shot at pole but thats life, you know. sometimes you cant do it. i mean its fine, i dont think his lap should be deleted in the future if they want to make rule changes. i dont that would be fair.”

charles instagram post after the 2021 silverstone gp yes i am counting it too:

max saying he prefers his rivalry with charles over the one he has with lewis, 2022

max to sky italy:

"i prefer what we have now because, first of all, charles i know very well, hes a nice guy, we are a similar age… on saturday night, we even had a laugh in paul ricard... we are hard competitors on the track and we will always try to beat each other, which i think is very normal, but outside of it you can have a good time as well, and thats what i really enjoy about this year."

max debunking that charles never forgave him for austria 2019 and racing together with him, 2022

max in a video interview:

"i never speak about these things with other drivers, i mean, it happens. ive lost wins as well, and its not the end of the world, you move on. i think charles is one of the most talented drivers in formula 1, and he will win many more races… i would say back in the day it was a little bit more difficult, but also we were very young and growing up and you are fighting for the same goal, right? now that youre in formula 1, i think it is really different. you are representing really big brands. so we get on very well now. we can have a good chat and enjoy our battles, and i think thats very nice. knowing each other for such a long time helps. weve spent so much time together, in a way."

2022 hungarian gp, max told the hungarian press he understands charles his frustration after the 2022 french gp

max to the hungarian press:

“everyone handles that (their disappointment) in a different way. some people need to reflect on it like that. at the time youre still a bit emotional from what just happened and maybe become a bit too emotional, but thats fine, people should be emotional, they should show their emotions."

charles on fighting with italian site corriere della sera, 2022 this is not an official translation sorry but i can link the source

charles:

“i like to deal with max, we have a similar level of aggression. we have fun, with respect. im not saying that last year there was no respect between max and lewis, but it seemed like a different duel than ours. but if we were to get to the end of the championship very close in points, the situation would be much more tense than it is now.”

max, also for corriere della sera in 2022

max:

“i have known charles since we were five years old, we are of the same generation and we grew up challenging ourselves on the track.”

max to viaplay, 2023 after charles crashed during Q3 of the miami gp, meaning he couldnt set a time and had to start from P8 (this is a livetranslation of mine post qualifying, so the quote isnt 100% spot on but you get the gist)

max:

“the red flag was annoying, but it happens on streetcircuits. it just sucks, i will have to cope and move on.”

monaco gp, charles had an interview with canal+ for its 10 year anniversary with formula 1. he got asked to name 10 drivers hes the closest with

charles:

“pierre without a doubt, carlos, lando, george, alex albon, yuki, lewis, max aswell eventhough most people dont think its the case but it is! esteban, and lance.”

this is it for now, i am a bit tired but thank the tumblr lords you can change posts later on so i can update it with ease later on. enjoys besties 🫡

[matan4il]

Update post:

In Hezbollah's rocket attack on Israel's north today, one person was killed and at least 9 are injured. All are from Thailand. I got to guide groups of students from Thailand, who come to study agriculture in Israel, and as part of their degree, they also work in the fields. They were so lovely, and they absolutely don't deserve this, for having tried to better their lives and the lives of those around them. Which is making me think of this vid from Oct 7 that I just can't forget of a Thai man, who was murdered by Hamas terrorists, footage I will never forget for as long as I live. You could argue that Hezbollah's rockets didn't mean to target Thai nationals, but the terrorists on Oct 7 KNEW that they were torturing (they took their time sadistically toying around with the man in the vid) and murdering non-Israelis. They KNEW they were kidnapping non-Israelis. And they still did it. Remind me, which part of Palestine is Thailand supposedly occupying?

On Thursday, in an independent shooting terrorist attack in Eli, two Israelis were murdered. They have been identified as 16 years old Uriah Hartom, and 57 years old father of three Yitzchak Zeiger. The Palestinian terrorist was identified as a Palestinian police officer, affiliated with Fatah (the party which currently rules the Palestinian Authority), not Hamas. He had previously been imprisoned by Israel twice, for dealing in illegal arms. The owner of a hummus diner, located near the gas station where the terrorist attack took place, was by chance on a break from his reserves service in Gaza. He heard the shots, came out, fired loosely at the terrorist to attract him away from civilians, went back inside, took a better shooting position, and finished the terrorist off.

A 57 years old man from the Israeli city of Ashkelon was stabbed during an independet terrorist attack in the area of Hebron on Saturday. The terrorist has been arrested.

Globally, we continue to see a rise in antisemitic incidents, including violent ones. Over the course of the past few days alone, we got an attack in Switzerland (in Zurich, where a Jewish man was stabbed on Saturday eve. The 15 years old terrorist was arrested by Swiss police. Please remember this for the next time you see Israel being vilified for arresting teenage terrorists), an attack on a Jewish man exiting a synagogue in Paris, France on Friday eve (Israeli TV reports that the terrorist called the victim, "a dirty Jew") and a Muslim former patient who shot his Jewish dentist to death, not too far from San Diego in the US (yeah, sorry. I don't buy that the moment a supposedly disgruntled ex patient decides to kill his Jewish doctor just so happens to be a moment when anti-Jewish violence is being justified, normalized and rising everywhere. A part of how antisrmitism, homophobia, racism and other forms of generalized hatred work, is that even when grudges are personal, these forms of hate give the hater socially acceptable terms and tools to openly hurt the person they hate, more than they would have dared to if they had a grudge against someone who wasn't a member of a marginalized group. Apparenntly, I'm not the only one who thinks the antisemitic angle mustn't be left out).

Meanwhile, Israel has arrested the members of a terrorist squad in Hebron, which was inspired by ISIS. They had already managed to produce 100 explosive devices, and we can only imagine how many lives have been saved thanks to these arrests.

This is 33 years old Dennis Yakimov.

He was killed the other day during the fighting in Gaza. Every day, Israeli soldiers are dying there, and Israelis watch the news, and hear their family members mourn them, and cry over the loss. IDK if any words I write here can express the grief, so today I'm just going to share this short vid of Dennis' only daughter, Danelina, speaking at his funeral:

IDK how people can actually think that after the loss, pain and horror of Oct 7, Israelis are putting themselves through this added loss, pain and horror just to see more Palestinians killed. And that's what they mean, every time they ask, "How many Palestinians have to die..." as if the goal was ever dead Palestinians, rather than Hamas being destroyed and Israelis knowing that Hamas could never perpetrate another massacre as it did, also aiming to deter other terrorist organizations such as Hezbollah from trying such a massacre, knowing that if they did, Israel wouldn't relent before they're destroyed, too. I think this kind of question can only be asked by people, for whom we're not really human beings, and the devastating pain that we feel over our fallen and their loved ones, who will never be the same, really doesn't register.

May Dennis' memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)