#complaining about everything both minor and major

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Eidetic Memory Be Damned -Spencer Reid

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•Pairing - Spencer Reid x FemFBIAgent!Reader

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Spencer is tired of only having the memory of you to enjoy during his spicy times , so he just has to intrude into your hotel room after a case is finished…

•Warnings/Content - p in the v unprotected (hey kids- DONT DO IT) ; cursing ; Spence loves to beg to nut in you and does so ; creampie ; some pain play? (just a lil hand on the throat dealio and some hair pulling) ; LOTS of praise on both sides (good boy, pretty girl, etc) ; very mf horny lol ; (basically they do just about everything from first base to last bestie slay)

•Word Count - 3.3k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - Iʼm so mf rusty at writing smut so this is probs not the best, I just wanted to write some Spencer spice cause I had a spicy dream about him lmao RIP >_< Also this'll be my first official post of my writing on Tumblr slayyyyy

•Additional Tags - Switch!Spencer , Switch!Reader , Spencer is a needy brat LMAO , Team has ‘no ideaʼ you two are hooking up (Be so mf fr they do) , Good aftercare is so valid , Spencer loves being cuffed and teased muahaha

As much as this last case had taken out of me, I was more than happy to get to spend some time in my hotel room while the jet refueled and everyone got their bearings. Itʼs not home - far from it, Iʼd been missing my own bed for the majority of our time here in whatever state it was now - but at least it was something.

But of course, the reprieve wouldnʼt last long - a sharp knock on my door confirmed that, about 20 minutes after Iʼd laid down to sleep.

“What…ˮ I groan, frustratedly looking over at the clock.

The knock, again, more persistent this time. And I recognize its pattern now, three short tap-taps. Spencer.

My heartbeat, despite my minor annoyance at being woken up, is hammering now. Spencer seems to do that to me, from the moment Iʼd realized I have feelings for him, carrying into whatever it is that we are now. Secret trysts that Iʼm sure are no secret to our team members, especially Garcia, because sheʼd pried it out of me almost immediately and now waits in her dark little room with nothing else but excitement for the latest updates on us, it seems.

“Are you awake?ˮ A gentle but still much-too-loud voice asks.

I tumble out of bed, rushing to the door. I donʼt even have time to make sure I look okay - Iʼm much too worried about anyone else hearing him. The door is unlocked and pulled open in record time, a stunned lanky man quickly and semi-quietly forced inside.

“Spence, someoneʼs gonna hear you if you keep on like that.ˮ I chastise him, shutting and locking the door behind us. No sooner have I done so, than his lithe form overtakes me, nestling into the crook of my neck with a groan that seems both relieved and not relieved at all.

“Donʼt care,ˮ He pushes me back, until my legs meet the mattress and fold. Quickly following on top of me, he sighs, “Been too long. I miss you. You know I have an eidetic memory, yeah? Doesnʼt mean shit when Iʼm up late and even thoughts of you arenʼt enough to keep me satiated.ˮ

“Someoneʼs gonna-ˮ Hear, I want to say. He knows, of course he does. And Iʼm only half-complaining, with his lips at my neck and his leg sneaking up between mine the way he also knows.

“Donʼt care.ˮ He repeats, the low moan at the back of his throat breaking through into the silent room. “I told you I miss you. Should I tell you about what I use my memory for? And just how much that hasnʼt been enough lately? Or should I show you?ˮ

Itʼs clearly a rhetorical question, but still, he seeks the permission I am more than happy to grant.

“Tell me. Uh, show me. I mean-ˮ

“I can do both,ˮ Even in the dark, I know heʼs got that matter of fact smirk on his lips. He reaches down, holding me by the hip with one hand while the other slips into my pajamas, a practiced motion heʼs all too good at by now. “Usually this is what I remember first. The way your skin feels, how nice it is to make you tremble beneath my touch.ˮ

I buck up, and he chuckles.

“All too eager, arenʼt you? Clearly youʼve been thinking about it too, huh, pretty girl?ˮ A pointed question he knows Iʼll struggle to answer, with his hand and his voice torturing me so.

“No eid- identical- uh, no memory recall whatever for me.ˮ

“Still wouldnʼt satiate, I bet.ˮ He remarks, casually rubbing circles and patterns over my panties. This is how he operates, surely and with no warning. A gentle but firm kiss to my jaw, and he continues, “Itʼs like that for me, at least. I know no amount of recalling how you feel under me will be enough to match just how nice it is.ˮ

Heʼs right, and of course he is; I can barely handle the teasing, the tone his voice has taken in this short amount of time. And I currently dont care if weʼre heard, either.

“Spence-ˮ

“What is it, sweetheart? Too much for you? Not enough?ˮ

“Please?ˮ

“Words, honey. Youʼve gotta use your words. Or you can show me, Iʼm okay withthat too.ˮ He guides my hand down to his.

“More.ˮ I plead, working to undress myself before his hands take over.

“You only have to ask.ˮ

True to his word, Spencer pulls the fabric away, no longer allowing it to be a block between us. Itʼs lost somewhere in the sheets as he kisses me, his practiced hands no longer in the mood to tease. He slips a finger in, and when I let out a keening whine, another, his free hand going automatically to my mouth.

“Now as much as I say I donʼt care, youʼve gotta be a little quiet for me,ˮ He goads, knowing this will only make it harder for me to do so. His breath is hot in my ear, his fingers working a motion thatʼs both breaking pent up weeks old frustration, and yet causing more tension in my belly. “Much as I love your voice. Your sounds. The-ˮ

I rut up against him, my lips opening around his thumb. He works it into my mouth, his voice lowering even further.

“Cmon, show me how much you missed me, huh, princess?ˮ

I moan, words lost in my mind as it spins. Every tug of his fingers between my thighs is building a high Iʼm chasing, and when I get to this point, Iʼm not talking - he is. And he knows it, knows the right words to say to build and break me.

“This is what Iʼm after, this is what I canʼt just remember. Because itʼs all too much to remember how good it feels to destroy you.ˮ

Please, please. I canʼt hold off much longer.

“Now are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?ˮ

I nod, lips opening and letting his hand free from my mouth as my breaths grow heavy. “Canʼt - Please, Spence, please-ˮ

He presses me further into the mattress, murmuring sweet and dirty nothings into my ear as the dam breaks and I ride my high. Iʼm far too sensitive following, and when I try to push him away for a moment, allow myself to collect some sort of reprieve before we continue, he chuckles lowly.

“See, I can recall that clear as day. But itʼs so much sweeter to have it happening in front of me, you know?ˮ He nestles in beside me, turning me to face him.

Nigh immediately, Iʼm reaching for his belt buckle. Of course he wouldnʼt have changed into comfortable clothes, not even this late- Iʼm sure this was his plan all along, and he tried to fight it as long as he could.

“Someoneʼs eager.ˮ He quips, the smirk growing.

“Youʼve got me thinking about it,ˮ I sigh, letting him maneuver himself out of the constricting clothing. “Coming over and getting me all hot and bothered. I really ought to…ˮ

“Ought to what?ˮ He goads, pulling me onto him with a low noise as we brush together. “Hmm? Are you gonna say…you ought to punish me?ˮ

I nod, rubbing back against him. He lets out a moan, hands gripping my hips tighter.

“I remember how that feels,ˮ He pulls me closer, voice dropping. “But for your sake, maybe you should refresh me.ˮ

When he reaches for me again, I pull back, pinning his hands down above his head. I know he could get out of it if he really wanted to - Iʼm strong, but not stronger than him - but he most certainly doesnʼt want to get out of it. And Iʼm enjoying it far too much to stop myself now.

“Whatʼre you gonna do, cuff me?ˮ He snaps, the bratty attitude far too practiced and already making me a soaking mess.

“I might.ˮ I reach for my pair, knowing all too well that heʼll absolutely lose it once I let go on him. I can hardly stand the anticipation. “Scared, Reid?ˮ

“Terrified. Please, donʼt. Iʼve been a good boy, I swear.ˮ

I push him back while he pleads, tightening the metal around his wrists. The look on his face, muffled as it is by the darkness of the room, is more than enough to spur me on.

“Not thinking about this at all, huh?ˮ I shed my top, if only for the knowledge that his inability to reach for my breasts drives him utterly insane. “And Iʼm sure you havenʼt spent many late nights with the memory of me riding you, have you? Havenʼt had your hands on that pretty cock of yours, thinking about how it feels when itʼs me, yeah?ˮ

“N-Not at all.ˮ

“Itʼs a shame, then.ˮ I tease, feeling him harden beneath me with every word. “Iʼll have to make you confess, I suppose.ˮ

His eyes follow my every move as I back up, slotting between his legs and bending down to kiss along his hips.

“Youʼll never get it out of me.ˮ He groans.

“Is that a promise or a challenge?ˮ I ask, not breaking eye contact as I place a kiss on his sensitive head.

“Challenge? Would I…challenge you?ˮ He still holds onto a moment of sanity, until I take him in my mouth, and itʼs lost with a sigh of, “Oh, would I.ˮ

I bob my head, my practiced motions coming in handy now. The usually-full-of- remarks Spencer Reid folds under my touch, soft deep moans and babble of confessions and wish I could pull your hair passing his lips while I work him out.

After a few moments of this, I let him free - at least from the torture of my lips.

“Where are you going? Please, I wanna cum for you, Iʼll tell you everything I did while I couldnʼt stand to wait for you.ˮ He keens.

“Oh, Iʼm far from done with you, Spence.ˮ I slowly, agonizingly slowly, climb back on top of him, making sure to back right up against him as he tightens against the cuffs. “Donʼt you worry, Iʼll have every measly confession pouring from you. You know I will.ˮ

“Please, let me out- Gotta touch you, I just gotta-ˮ

“Shh, be good for me, wonʼt you?ˮ I lift myself over his face, pressing my folds to his lips. “Unless you wanna stay in those forever.ˮ

He shakes his head, vibrating a ‘noʼ against me.

“Good. Now youʼre gonna pay your dues and clean up the mess youʼve made.ˮ

Eagerly, he laps at me like heʼs never had it before. His utter submissiveness overwhelms him, letting me ride his face to my hearts content. Words are muffled and entirely lost in it, and I know by now that the sounds Iʼm making alone will be heard, but I donʼt really care. Iʼm too far gone in how good it feels to finally have him making me cum again.

“Can I touch you now?ˮ

I slide back onto him, teasingly letting myself rest with just the edge of him pressing into my folds.

“Can you?ˮ I look pointedly at his wrists.

“I-oh, my god, clearly not, but-ˮ

“How about this?ˮ I amend. “You give me a confession, you get a reward. Sound fair?ˮ

“Yeah, sounds just fine. I couldnʼt get off without coming here, you realize that, donʼt you? Youʼre the only thing that gets me off anymo-Oh-ˮ His confession is cut short as I slide him a bit further in, just enough to spur him further. “I mean, I get off, donʼt get me wrong here. But nothing feels as good as when itʼs with you. Nothing.ˮ

“Keep going, youʼre doing good.ˮ I praise, sinking a bit deeper.

“Goddamn you feel so good.ˮ He moans. “Like, my hands canʼt even come close to this, are you kidding? I can try all I want, and believe me, I have - Oh, my god, please donʼt stop - Iʼve been trying all the time, I admit that, canʼt hardly stand being around you and not being able to just fuck you whenever I want.ˮ

I push down further, the stretch he gives me loosing my own moan. “How much do you wanna fuck me, Spence? Tell me, please.ˮ

“God, all the time. Itʼs all I can think about when I get down to it - baby, can I please touch you now?ˮ

“Punishment is a bitch, isnʼt it, Reid?ˮ I smirk, starting to push him in and out of me, slowly and with a devious grin that falters at just how damn good it is.

“Baby, Iʼm gonna get outta these and fuck you so good-ˮ

“Try it.ˮ I raise an eyebrow, stopping my motions.

“Oh- No, Iʼm sorry, please donʼt stop. Iʼll be good, I promise.ˮ

“Yeah, you will.ˮ I drop as far as I can take him, savoring the stuttered animalistic groan he lets out as I press down onto him, pulling his hair and moving my hips around him. As he is want to do, heʼs thrusting up into me, even if heʼs unable to reach me with his hands held up as they are. “Eager, sweet boy. Iʼm gonna ruin you.ˮ

And ruin him, I do. The tension and heat in my belly rides and breaks several times, with him unable to form real words except for the continuous begging of please donʼt stop repeated on a loop until I feel Iʼm satisfied with his demeanor.

Once Iʼve tortured him enough, I reach for the cuffs, ready to let him off the leash - knowing that once I do, the balance will shift. Truthfully, Iʼm just eager to let him be true to his word and fuck me like heʼs been dying to.

“You donʼt need any more confessions from me, then?ˮ He huffs, sweat slicked across his brow from the effort of holding back - though heʼs not really done so, has he?

“One last one, I suppose.ˮ I pull off of him, and the pout he gives nearly makes me sit right back down on him again.

“Alright, Iʼll be good and honest with you, then.ˮ He continues while I set to unlocking the cuffs, “You know the other day, just after we got the final piece of evidence put together?ˮ

I nod.

ˮI was so psyched, I couldʼve taken you right there. I donʼt care that everyone would have known, would have seen. Itʼs just something you do to me.ˮ He finishes, his tone light. Oh boy, Iʼm about to get railed. “I love you. And now Iʼm gonna fuck you like Iʼve been wanting to for weeks.ˮ

No sooner is he free, tearing off the shirt he was wearing and looming over me with the hungriest of looks at my body before pressing himself into me. No wait, no teasing - heʼs not got the control for it, clearly, and Iʼm not complaining one bit.

“Next time, you get the cuffs, pretty girl.ˮ He promises, his hands all over my body now that he can manage it. Hard, precise thrusts, his voice heavy and fucked-out.

“And Iʼll show you just what Iʼve been wanting to do that Iʼm gonna savor in my mind after.ˮ

My nails are leaving deep trails in his back, surely leading to marks that would raise questions if anyone else saw. Heʼs so far in me, almost bottomed out, and itʼs almost too much and yet not enough all at once. I pull him closer, and his hand tangles in my hair while the other clasps around my throat.

“Youʼre all mine.ˮ Spencer growls - truly, thereʼs not other word for it, the purely animal drive taking him to a world where itʼs just us, just this. And Iʼm there too, crying out with the ecstasy his body causes my own.

“All yours.ˮ

“Thatʼs right, pretty girl. Say it for me, I wanna hear you say it.ˮ

“Iʼm all yours, Spence- oh, my god-ˮ

“Good, thatʼs good. My pretty girl. Youʼre so tight, you feel so good wrapped around me, donʼt you? God, what a sight.ˮ Here he is, in his rambles now, and I can hardly contain how close I am. “Wanna tell everyone this is mine. Iʼm the only one that gets to have you, gets to fuck you like this. See you break for me. Only me.ˮ

“Only you, Spence, only you-ˮ

“Cʼmon, I know youʼre close, I can feel it. You get so much tighter, god, if itʼs even possible-ˮ

“Spencer-ˮ

“Thatʼs my girl, cum for me.ˮ

“Donʼt stop-ˮ I can feel the cord in me ready to snap, chasing my most intense orgasm of the night with his words and the feeling of him slamming so deep inside me. “More, Spence, you can give me more-ˮ

“Sweet girl, of course, I know you can handle it.ˮ He pushes himself fully in, my breath catching at the slight pain, yet itʼs still so good, I canʼt stop it, I donʼt want to. “Want me to fuck you so good with all of me, donʼt you?ˮ

I nod against his grasp, and he loosens it a bit, kissing me fervently.

“Please, please cum for me, I wanna feel you all over me, beautiful.ˮ He reaches down, his thumb rubbing circles on my clit. Itʼs the last thing I need to send me over that edge, and I cry out, his name slipping past my lips unwarranted. “Oh, baby, love how you say my name. Like itʼs a prayer, like Iʼm a god.ˮ

“Donʼt stop, Spence-ˮ

“Iʼm close, baby- Oh, I wanna cum in you-ˮ

Another orgasm follows near immediately after this one, and Iʼm grasping at him while heʼs chasing his own, his hands fumbling and his thrusts getting sloppy. He grips the sheets, his breaths stunted.

“Cum in me, please-ˮ

“Iʼm gonna, god, Iʼm so fuckinʼ close-ˮ He tightens around me, muscles shaking as he lets loose, and now itʼs his turn to moan my name a lot louder than he should while he cums. Heʼs so pretty when he does, too - the crease that works between his brows, the round pucker to his lips. Partly through, he kisses me, hard. And when heʼs done, his grip loosens, falling slack on top of me with a contented sigh.

A few moments pass where he just holds me, peppering soft kisses across my face and telling me you did such a good job, baby. Then, he pops up with a smile and comes back with water and a towel, cleaning up after himself.

“Satisfied?ˮ I chuckle, slowly pulling my clothes back on.

“Almost.ˮ He dips his head down, capturing a nipple in his mouth for a few moments. I groan, overstimulated, but still too happy to appease him. “Now, Iʼm satisfied. Iʼm staying in here, okay? Donʼt care if someone sees at this point.ˮ

“Spence?ˮ

“Mmhm?ˮ

“I love you, too.ˮ

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | Four

Word Count: 4.4k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, DD:DNE, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, p in v, moon tea, cockwarming

Series Masterlist  

A/N: semi-filler chappie cos it’s gonna get fuckin’ real after this one, buckle up fuckleheads

The weather was just right. And there was something calming about a clean wash blowing softly in the wind. Something calming.

 She felt she needed something calming.

 She ran the bed linen through her fingers, revelling in its soft touch. She remembered scrubbing Aemond's bedsheets for an hour straight after that night, using the hard bristled brush to rid the white fabric of her blood, which in reaction to the air had blackened.

 It was a stain difficult to remove. But she felt it more so in her heart than anywhere else.

 Since then, she'd not bled when she was intimate with him. For this she was glad.

 Stains of lovemaking were easier to wash out than blood.

 Could it be called lovemaking if there was no love? she thought.

 Freiya had ignored her since that day, instead clinging to the other maidservants, who all whispered in hushed tones whenever she walked by. And even now, on the same laundry shift, she refused to spare her so much of a greeting, much less a glance in her direction.

 She'd decided that it was better than way. She would not stop them talking about her, and in all honesty, she'd rather not hear any of the rumours or childish gossip at all. So the less they spoke to her, the better.

 Her only 'friends' as such, was her fellow bed sharing maidservant, Alanna. And Hedi. Hedi was so good. She had the intuitions and calming presence of a mother. But she was perceptive to the extent that it was scary sometimes. And the little maidservant was sure that Hedi knew everything and nothing needed to be said.

 Aemond had become more rough, if it were possible. He liked to mark her pretty skin with red and pink, smirking at the healing bruises for days after. The days and weeks after he had taken her maidenhead, it was like something had shifted in him, and he called upon her at all hours of the day, often not allowing her to leave until it was early the next morning and after getting no sleep she was still expected to attend to her duties.

 It was exhausting.

 He enjoyed leaving marks on places only he had access to.

 But one evening, when he had curled his hand around her neck just a little too tightly, genuinely blocking off all her air, Alanna had seen the redness and raised her eyebrows in alarm. She didn't say anything, nothing incriminating at least. Nor did she assume who was responsible and it scared her to think what Aemond would do if he found out that she'd told anyone.

 It was better that nobody knew.

 For her sake.

 He might just kill her. Or worse.

 "Dyana came to me like this once as well. Shaking and mewling" Alanna said with a resigned expression. She observed that she didn't shake, nor did she mewl or complain. It had been long enough. The little maidservant simply had to grit her teeth and bear it, for she was no longer a child and in a sense, she was the replacement of Dyana. In job position as well as situation. Just with a different Prince. There was no time for complaints anymore, not when she'd been forced to do what women do. What a wife would do.

 Alanna had a sad, mournful expression on her face and she held her hand out to her, “Come”

 Beneath the floorboards, Alanna pulled several beams up to reveal a large container, corked at the top. She struggled a little with getting the cork free, but when she did, there was the unmistakable whiff of mint and earth, and the little maidservant’s eyes widened when she realised what it was.

 A feeling of both fear and dread lay in her stomach.

 Was it such a common occurrence that a jug of Moon Tea was kept within the staff quarters at all times? Had Dyana used it when she worked here? Had the others used it?

 “Is it…”

 “Yes” Alanna responded, “A cup will do”

 She accepted the cup gratefully, knowing that had she tried to find other means to access the tea, or tried to make it herself without the proper knowledge, it could prove dangerous to her health. So she was at least grateful that Alanna, who she expected to be impartial to her condition and circumstance, had in fact offered help.

 The Moon Tea was tepid and tasted musty from being kept under the floorboards, leaving a horrid film all over her tongue when she drank it. But she drank the entire cup, hesitantly, feeling the familiar tug of guilt and shame in her tummy, at the thought that there could have been a child alive within her, that she was ultimately not allowing to live.

 But it would have been his.

 Perhaps it was a blessing to have the Moon Tea. She found herself thinking, why had Aemond not sought out Moon Tea for her? For she’d remembered what he said, about the supposed bastards of Princess Rhaenyra. He hated them, perhaps because of their parentage or perhaps not. But if a man had such hatred for bastards, why would he allow himself to spend inside her? He was too clever to think it would not happen.

 It was like a puzzle she could not guess.

 Perhaps he knew the maids had their own supply of Moon Tea, from hearing stories about what his brother, Aegon, had done to his maidservants. Or that he enjoyed the pleasure of breeding her, knowing that she could possibly swell with his babe.

 Perhaps he didn’t care.

 “Who is the man?” Alanna asks with a concerned furrow of her brows.

 She really did consider telling her, truthfully. Perhaps someone would come to help her if she told someone, and Alanna did seem kind. There were two parts of her mind at war with themselves.

 And then Alanna had dared to ask.

 “Does he make you?”

 The question was not one she expected, and the speed to which her eyes met Alanna’s had told her fellow maidservant all she needed to know. A melancholic look softens across Alanna’s face, but she makes no attempt to soothe her physically, no gentle touches of hands or stroking of her back. All of her comfort could only be offered in words and looks. Alanna was just like that, and did not enjoy people touching her. She wondered if it had happened to her, if she knew where the Moon Tea was kept.

 Does he make me? She asked herself.

 In the truest sense, yes, he did make her. But the little maidservant inhaled deeply, grounding herself to where she stood and shook her head, refusing to answer any more questions.

 Her brother and sister needed her.

She could not let them down.

 And in the deepest recesses of her heart, she knew she’d never return to them, despite the promise she had made to them.

Aemond had called on her that night. She had felt a bit better now after the Moon Tea, knowing that she was safe from the burden of her sex, but it didn’t make the dread disappear altogether. The corridors of the Red Keep were quiet, with very little staff about, which to her was strange.

 Across the hall, approaching her direction to pass her, was Helaena Targaryen, sister-wife of Aegon. She was a dreamy, whisper of a woman, seemingly floating about the Keep. She was utterly beautiful, she thought. Whereas most Targaryens had silver, white hair, hers seemed to have a glow to it and her soft facial features were so much like Queen Alicent’s, though recently her lips seemed downturned.

 The little maidservant looked down to the floor as she passed, steps hurried to not keep Aemond waiting.

 Her body jumped, one shoulder held back by a firm, but soft grip on her arm. She’d looked back and then up, to meet the eyes of Princess Helaena. She was taller than her, not by much but she had such an air of authority and determination that it made the maidservant feel smaller than she really was. For a moment their eyes simply met, Helaena’s pale lilac eyes flitting across her face, her fingers flexing against her arm.

 She looked into the maidservant’s eyes silently for an agonisingly long time.

 “Princess?...” she’d whispered to break the silence, her arm aching with the force at which Helaena was gripping her. She was pulled closer by the Princess, forcing her to keep her gaze.

 “It cannot be”

 It was haunting, and an uncomfortable chill ran through her.

 That voice. Those words. She’d not been able to forget them.

 She remembered the way Aemond had thrust into her deeply, planting his seed as far inside her as it would go. Hearing those words over and over…

 It cannot be.

It cannot be.

It cannot be.

 Hearing them, in the same voice, had her hairs standing up on end.

 “...cold tansy…the womb quickens…”

 Helaena briefly let go of her arm and the maidservant finally took a breath, uttering a quick excuse and turning to make way for Prince Aemond’s chambers, trying to ignore the weight of Princess Helaena’s gaze at her back.

 And not able to hear her soft whispers.

 “A knife, the weapon…sleep, the calling…grief breeds grief…”

 When the maidservant stood before Aemond’s chambers, she wiped the tears away that had gathered on her cheeks, steeling herself for what was about to happen.

 The messenger boy was at her side, and the maidservant truly felt that if she saw someone else she did not want to see she might just scream and wail, the rest of the Keep be damned.

 “What is it” she asked him, rather forcefully, as if trying to hold back a cry.

 The messenger boy somewhat furrowed his brows at her reaction, holding a letter he’d already opened. The maidservant closed her eyes and sighed, knowing already who it was from.

 “Your brother has come down with a dreaded case of the Shivers, probably from writhing about in the mud like a pig. Your sister is spared from it, as you had mentioned she suffered and recovered from it only last year. He is recovering well, but I will need additional coin to pay for herbal remedies to make him well again, as I know I will not receive your coin any longer if she should pass. And if he does, I will have to send your sister away to work or get married. Five additional coins a month will have to suffice. Your sister would like to send you her love and she misses you greatly, especially the way you, and I quote, ‘make the mornings a little bit brighter’”

 She tries her best to not outright sob at the mention of her sister. The tears feel hot and oppressive behind her eyes, trying so desperately to pour free.

 She dismisses him with a soft wave of her hand.

 As soon as his chamber doors closed behind her, her eyes looked up to see Aemond on the other side, leaning against the window and looking out. He didn’t move when she entered, so she took the moment of silence to work on pulling her hair from her braids.

 “You are late” his low voice carries across the stillness of the room.

 “Apologies, your grace” she replies, trying to shake the tremor out of her voice.

 She fears something bad will happen. Perhaps it’s fear of him, or possibly even fear for her situation. But the words Helaena had spoken were whirring around her mind.

 It cannot be.

 “I heard you in the hallway, speaking to a boy”

 She meets his eye when he says this. When he says it, it sounds low, possessive, threatening. She finds he is already looking at her and her breath stops in her throat, her chest constricting painfully. Aemond does not have his eyepatch on, something he did when he wanted to appear frightening, which lately was more often than not.

 “Who was he”

 Again, not a questioning tone.

 She looks away to the floor, “Just the messenger, your grace”

 Aemond ponders her answer for a moment, letting his eye run all over her body. He notices that she has her eyes downcast, briefly picking at the dry skin around her nail beds nervously. An action he’s seen in his mother when she is anxious.

 It twinges something inside. Something buried deep.

 But as quickly as it arrives inside him, he pushes it back down.

 Aemond taps his fingers against the goblet he is holding, in somewhat of a nervous gesture. Like he is thinking about what he should do. She stands still the entire time, waiting for his neck command, all while his eye takes her in, body stirring with desire at the way she obediently always takes her hair down now in his presence. Even the way her chest inflates with air as she breathes seems to set his blood ablaze.

 Aemond crosses the room, standing before her he can see the mark around her neck, now a pale colour, where he had been a bit too rough with their tryst the last few times. A place where she could not hide it. There was some excitement in the fact that her fellow maidservants knew what was happening to her. He wonders if she tells them the things he does to her. Wonders if beneath that soft, innocent exterior, there is the same darkness inside where there is in him.

 His fingers reach out to run the back of them over the mark at her neck, and he doesn’t miss the way she flinches at the contact, at the sensitive, flared skin being grazed against, if only slightly. Those wide, doe-eyes meet his one eye, searching and confused.

 At least until his fingers dip to the buttons of her dress. Her heart sinks.

He will only ever want that.

 There is something different about him tonight.

 He undresses her.

 Usually, he stands across the room, commanding her to undress for him. Peeling off the layers of her clothing to reveal her pliant, small form before him, feeling utterly exposed, heart filled with shame at being ordered to bare herself before him, while he is fully clothed. Watching. Always with that self-satisfied look on his face, lips bought into a line to stop himself from grinning.

 This night, his hand softly, almost carefully, unbuttons her dress to reveal her skin beneath, all the way down to the valley of her breasts, where his finger delicately draws an imaginary line, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

 He is uncharacteristically gentle.

 And it frightens her.

 The last few days and weeks since he had crossed that line, stolen her maidenhead as swiftly as a thief would steal coin, he had been rough, uncaring, borderline belligerent. She knew what to expect. Knew that the second she would leave his chambers, her core would ache as she walked, knew that the bruises on her would blossom in pain whenever she moved a muscle.

 She had taught herself not to be frightened. Instead she taught herself to be mindful. Be pliable. Obey. And she would not be hurt.

 But now she was afraid.

 Now that he was acting differently, she did not know what to expect.

 Aemond pushed one side of her dress over her shoulder and then the other, allowing the dress to fall to the ground. She does not miss the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

 Surely he cannot be nervous.

 His hand moves down to cup her breast, testing the weight of it in his palm, as if he had not been touching them multiple times a day in all the time he laid claim on her. Running his thumb over her rosy nipple, it rouses to attention, aided by the chill in the chambers. She swears that he gives a content sigh, touching her skin, feeling the thrum of her heart beneath her chest.

 It’s as if he is realising she is real for the first time.

 Like she is a woman.

 “Gevie” He whispers, almost so quiet she doesn’t hear him, despite being right in front of him.

 She wonders if he’s speaking his mother tongue to make sure she doesn’t understand his words.

 “Would you get on the bed”

 Would you.

 When has he ever asked.

 Taken slightly off guard by his different tone, she lets a breath free and nods, taking her spot in the middle of the bed. Her heart raps in her chest, smoothing her hand over the bedsheets in an attempt to calm herself down. The bedsheets she washed her blood from, now so stark and clean.

 Aemond’s clothes drop to the floor with a soft whisper of a thud, the mattress sinks with his knee leaning on it, slowly making his way towards her in the middle of the bed. Her eyes are fixed on the bed sheets, feeling his hot breath at the side of her face, hearing his soft breath inhaling her scent. His hand calmly pushes her back down to lay beneath him, fingers splayed large over her collarbone.

 She stares at the paintings in his room, as she always does when they do this. Tracing the tender curves and lines of the brush strokes, counting all the items in the subject, appreciating the way the colours perfectly reflect the realism of-

 “Look at me” Aemond asks quietly.

 What?

 She turns her head to him, a small puzzled look on her face.

 It’s the first time she has seen him look this vulnerable. There’s still an underlying feeling that he is hiding what is really underneath, some kind of blurred wall between it. At the surface there is still that man, the one who hurts her, the one who forces his deepest, darkest desires on her. But the insecurities that lay beneath are beginning to bleed out of his old wounds, albeit slowly.

 As soon as she meets his eye, Aemond pushes forward, sliding his cock into her tight, wet heat. A short gasp is caught in her throat at the abruptness of it. But it doesn’t hurt. Not like it did that night. After that night, it had felt strange, intrusive and curious. More often than not, he would brush that spot inside, the one that made her face heat, her thighs shake and her spine curve upwards. When it did happen, it upset her. For all that pain, for all the ways she was hurt, she thought she deserved more than a mere second of pleasure. For all her tolerance, did she not deserve to at least feel good?

 Aemond sighs, a quiet moan leaving his lips at the feel of him being squeezed by the soft ridges of her cunt.

 He slides in all the way, closing his eye and resting his head against her neck. His hot breath coming in short, troubles pants. Aemond lays his body heavy on top of her, supporting his weight on one of his legs that’s around her hips, pressing his lithe, hard chest against her soft, plush one.

 And he doesn’t move.

 She lays there, underneath him, eyes darting all about the canopy, wondering what he is doing.

 Why is he not moving?

 Aemond continues to breathe against her neck, as if asleep, but she can feel the tickle of his eyelashes against her skin, indicating that he is still very much conscious. Like this, she can feel every ridge, every curve and every vein of his cock, throbbing inside her, begging for any kind of friction. But he still doesn’t move, stilling with himself buried as deep inside her as he could go, his tip kissing her cervix. She moves her body a little, feeling a tad uncomfortable at the position.

 His hand tightens at her hip, “Stop” he says, quietly against her skin, “Just…stay like this”

 It doesn’t help her confusion in the slightest at the current situation. But she does as he says, and stays still, allowing him to adjust slightly, which sends his cock nudging slightly against inside her, a quiet sound escaping her mouth.

 “What did the messenger say” he asks.

 Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly, half shocked and half afraid to say anything he deemed wrong, and he might flip his personality like that.

 “Well…um…” she starts, trying to ignore the gentle throb of him inside her, “...he bought word from my family…”

 “Hm” he murmurs in return, angling his head to nudge closer into her neck, his breath against her drumming pulse, “About what”

 There is a deep, nerve-wracking suspicion about this. He has never cared. Not one bit. Why should it be any different now?

 For the sake of obeying him though, she responds.

 “There is a woman…from my hometown…” she starts, wondering how best to word it. Nobody had asked before and now him? “...she cares for my siblings in my absence and is requesting more funds…”

 He is quiet for a long time and she shivers when she feels his fingers running lines over her side, as if deep in thought.

 “And you have such funds?”

 An unwarranted shiver crawls up her spine, “I do…your grace”

 His hand runs between her breasts, up her front to grasp her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Aemond rights himself to sit up slightly, pulling her gaze to his, nudging his cock further inside her when it slips out slightly. He’s still hard, she notices, and her body jolts at the motion of him moving his hips ever-so-slightly.

 His gaze is firm, but his hands are not.

 “You would not lie to me now, would you sweet girl?”

 She quickly shakes her head softly, as much as she can with her chin in his grasp.

 “No, your grace…” she utters softly, her breath coming in short bursts at the sudden undulating of his hips, if not only slightly.

 With his lips slightly parted, Aemond starts to increase his pace, looking down to where they are joined as he slowly sinks into her over and over, his cock squeezed still by the delicious tightness her little cunny offers. It’s slow and thoughtful, the way he does it now. Even when he presses his palm against her abdomen, right above her patch of curls, to feel the presence of him inside of her, his fingers splayed out against her skin, it’s soft. Almost caring.

 She had seen little pieces of this side, like when he whispered to himself the night he’d taken her maidenhead, that he needed it.

 Like when he gently swats her cheek when she has done something he likes.

 But never this.

 As much as she wanted to believe it, she couldn’t let herself.

 Because as soon as he looked back up into her eyes, that dark, almost hateful look in his eyes came back. And it came back with a vengeance. As if it was annoyed it had been gone so long in her presence.

 He had returned.

 He took hold of her hips tightly, in a bruising grip and began brutally using her cunt for his own pleasure, turning away from her face to focus on something else. Anything else. But her face.

 Aemond fucked her like he hated her, uncaring about her own pleasure, chasing it for his own means. Burying that person he was barely minutes before in favour of the man he was now, the one who craved a closeness that nobody else could give him. A closeness that being buried inside his little maidservant could only offer.

 Or at least that is what he allowed himself to think.

 All this childhood he’d felt so small.

Born small and weak, too early.

 Made weak by the loss of an eye. At the hand of those bastards, no less.

 Hid back inside himself on his thirteenth name day, forced to endure the pleasures of the flesh in that sordid brothel.

 He’d felt so small. So weak.

 Powerless.

 He fucked every single insecurity into her, trying to block out the sound of her quiet whimpers as he snapped his hips against hers mercilessly. Hiding inside her. The only sounds in the chambers were flesh on moist flesh. It should be the sound of lovemaking. But it was just the sound of hate.

 No, Aemond thought as he sought comfort inside her. Angling his cock to find the answer within her somewhere.

 He was no longer weak. He was a man. A Targaryen Prince. Rider of the largest dragon in the world.

 And he would have whatever he wanted.

 Everyone else be damned.

 He had done a good job of blocking out her sounds, chasing a peak that just would not come. Aemond did all he could. He went faster, squeezed the parts of her flesh he wanted to elicit a response. He grasped at her breasts painfully, pinching her nipples between his fingers as they rolled back and forth with the motions of his cock pistoning inside of her with increased vigour.

 But there was nothing.

 It took him a long time to finally peak. But it was pitiful, feeble and weak.

 Weak.

 Weak.

 With an unsatisfied grunt, Aemond pulled out of her and threw her legs back together, not wanting to see the proof of incapacity that was represented by looking upon her used sex. She laid there for a moment, gathering herself and brushing the hair from her face that had stuck to her skin with shaky hands.

 His irresolute temper terrified her.

She thought she knew what to expect. But she didn’t. And she found herself unable to speak.

 She expected Aemond to tell her to leave, as he usually did. But instead, he huffed and got beneath the sheets, back against the mattress, looking up at the canopy for an answer, as she had done many times before.

 Her hands grappled the bed sheets, to will herself not to cry.

 It cannot be.

 What did it mean, she asked herself over and over, pulling her knees to her chest.

 But the more she thought about the words that Princess Helaena had uttered, the more it eluded her.

 She felt a warmth between her legs, where his seed was beginning to seep out of her. But there was a warmth deeper inside, as if it were inside her womb and she clutched her belly like she felt nauseous. It felt as if her stomach was turning itself over, trying to rid something from within.

 The dragon inside there had started to breathe its fire into her, burning her from the inside out.

 It cannot be.

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles  @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr   @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx  @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid @thedamewithabook @hiatuswhore @apollonshootafar @ladymarg0t @hopeless-addiction-love @leeleebabe101 @babyblue711 @croatianprincess @what-is-your-wish @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @garnetbutterflysblog @queenmizuki @tempt-ress​ 

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

[onyourhyuck]

Ultimate Spider-Man: Spider-Mark. | L.MK

— Prologue: “Mark are you— Spider-Man?”

— Summary: Wherein one night you were saved by Spider-Man from a bunch of men harassing you and you find out it’s your enemy all along.

— Genre: Coming Of Age. Romance. Spiderman!mark. Mentions of hero duties. Smut smut smut minors Dni. enemies/rivals to lovers trope. Big dick mark agenda. Mention of getting harassed and attacked on the street. Mark jumps out a building with y/n. Medic students. Y/n is a confident queen. Fingering female receiving. Head receiving female. Spit mention. Breast play. Unprotected sex (wrap your willies pls ty.)

— Notes: Spider Mark fic <3

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Sometimes you hate the fact that you’re craving to be better than everyone around you and you wonder how come your first thought was to crush someone’s inability to be good at something? You blame your academic validation and growing up unloved but that doesn’t give you an excuse to want to be the best student on top of everyone’s graves. However someone was making it difficult.

Mark Lee was the top grader in your classes. Currently you’re both majoring in biology courses which are both to do with medical practices the more you progress within the year — you see it very much upsets you to have Mark get one question right than you or to see him get praised by the professors very much gets under your thin skin you can’t handle it. It doesn’t help that the boy seems genuinely humble and hard working too.

Maybe you’re being petty and so what if you are? No one’s got anything in university other than becoming successful and that’s exactly what your freaking goal is. If you cannot overcome this and defeat Mark in becoming the top student then you haven’t succeeded you’ve failed no matter if you get that damn medical degree.

You are envious of people who are laid back and could relax because they find things easy on the exams or the fact that they aren’t overburden by work. You really don’t understand how you are the one working hard ten times more and somehow they end up scoring good without trying. Maybe you’re different and it’s more of an you problem. But let yourself complain.

Walking down the stairs where many university students were occupied by the buddy next to them unlike you, you’re very much full on ‘social distancing don’t speak to me’ type of person, because you dislike social interactions. You’re here to study not to become buddy friendly with other students here and get distracted from your goal. In your hands you carried your workload books for studying that you wrote your class notes in. You don’t dare waste any detail out you honestly dote down everything the professors say in hope it will give you extra markings when the exams come.

Your eyes caught glimpse on a younger boy your age with coloured-hair that irks your eyes wherever you are it was impossible to miss them, skin full of melanin that the sun reflects onto it, beauty marks on specific places that could make someone weak to the knees. Your brain took in so much information at once that you didn’t even need it to confirm who it was, you simply just knew who it were coming up the stairway catching your attention’s breathe.

The man stops on the way up when the eyes walked to your direction stopping midway. You were the complete opposite direction but still all the attention went to you as if you were attracting it away from him without doing anything too much. The friend next to him stops, they were speaking but seeing how their friend went quiet to look over at you, they stop on the tracks as well and go quiet.

Mark feels like he was about to be eaten in a lion den with the way you’re watching him with your epiphany disgust. “Oh hey y/n. You off to study the new sheet professor Ahn gave us?” You hate how his voice was friendly and polite to you even though you’re both aware of your deep surrounding rivalry and dislike each others feelings.

“Yeah unlike you clearly.” You shot downwards raising suspicion that Mark was probably slacking off entirely. “You don’t look like you’re going to be studying it for tomorrow’s test.” You scorn. Mark’s eyes travel around as he tries to figure out how to use the information to you. Mark’s hands slipped in the front pockets and that smirk widens.

“I’ve already done the work, actually.” He said matter-of-factly as he saw the burning fire in your eyes. He was always ten steps ahead of you, always, it annoys you. No, actually it fucking angers you. Mark had the audacity to put it in your face because he was glad to see you near-wanting to murder him but he knew you wouldn’t. You’re just trying not to show how much it bothers you.

Your lips fell into a thin line that could seriously harm someone if they got too close, like it was a sword laying flat offensively ready to jab the heart of Mark Lee and fully discard it. Your voice scowls out to the storing area. “Shove off Mark.” You say trying to get past him and his friend, Donghyuck but the boys were blocking your pathway until your shoulders jumped each other roughly.

You leave them on the stairway and Mark turns around following you with a serious gaze. His shoulders clicked the moment you reached your destination with it and your shoulders were bumping roughly.

Donghyuck shakes his head. “Y/n and her bitchy attitude always on your case Mark Lee.” It was unbelievable how much you’re ready and willing to ruin his friends day. Mark on the other hand shrugs sighing. “Truth hurts sometimes.” He quotes. Donghyuck laughs following Mark from behind as they continue going uphill the stairs. “Your entire fucking existences hurts Y/n. It’s kind of funny to watch.”

The boys were trailing off to the distance and you were on your own once again. The location to your next finding was the café down the road. It was out of campus bounds but it was really the only place that you could relax and stay as much as you want because the owner of the café lets you stay there for extra timings whenever you need to do your serious revision. Sometimes being inside the school building was more of a destructive distraction than a place where you could focus and learn. It’s ironic really knowing some students aren’t as serious as you, but no harm done you found your own element where you can relax and become more active in studying.

The new work sheet that Mark has spoken about with you made you rethink how quick he must’ve figured this one out. For you it took a few minutes expending to an hour. It was a difficult question that has different interpretations than what you are looking for meaning it was a no right or wrong answer — but it really made it difficult too.

Somehow you struggle forming your own opinion of it because it doesn’t matter what you think you’re more of a ‘There is one answer wrong and one is correct, pick the right one’ type of person. You’re not here to analyse you’re here to get the right one so you are ensured to be correct.

You suck on your bottom teeth, watching the paper. “This freaking riddle… I can’t stand this type of questions. They’re always beating around the bush.” You complain. You can’t bring yourself to made a hypothesis like this about, so you close the book when you huff out.

The owner of the café seeing you blow rough air underneath your face made them look over seeing you struggle to come with an answer to the work question.

“You okay there miss?” The man said with a look grasping at you where you sat on the table locating near the window. You look up at where the voice was pointing from.

The man with blonde hair and glasses on, holding with both palms a table cloth and water spray bottle. Seemingly they were cleaning up from previous customers who dine at the café before they left.

Your eyes linger on the man who was surprisingly quite handsome. He looked way older than you but he was hella charismatic enough to leave you thinking he were a musician or a model with the face he’s got. “Ah yes. Just revisiting previous work because of upcoming exams.” You explain looking back at the paper and then at the man.

Taeyong’s mouth forms a large ‘Oh?’ as he comes forward trading on the table he shows a gentle smile seeing how you must be an university student. You even had a bunch of notes on the side and your bag was on the other chair sitting on it there. It really reminds him of past him when he was a student stressed with Uni work to the point he considered dropping out — nearly.

“What are you studying if i can ask you?” Taeyong would ask pointing the daggers at the sheets. You would spare the man a short glance. “Biology and Medicine. It’s a combined effort course.” You’d explain as your mind moves to the question.

He was impressed seeing how well you were handling this subject he knows many medical students who tell people it’s so difficult it left them mentally drained out — half looking corpses even. But you? You had a bright face and a good smile. You seem like you know what you’re doing but at the same time you don’t get the pressure get to you.

“You must be smart. I heard that courses to do with medicine related require a high dropping rate.”

You smirk eyeing Taeyong up and down. “Yeah well… I try my hardest to stay on the top of the list.” The owner sensed a little arrogance but it wasn’t necessary a bad thing when it came now. You’re proud and that’s it. “What did you study then?” You ask suddenly.

Taeyong’s eyes travel around the café as he walks away to clean more tables and as he did this you watch him wipe down more of the white round tables with the cloth while he sprays the cleaning spray bottle on it.

“Me? I went to university to study a little bit of languages.” Your eyes widen as you spoke over. “Whoa languages? You must be more of a genius than i am then.”

Taeyong scoffs. “Trust me. I can barely speak the language we’re speaking in right now. I wish though. Now I’m just a simple café owner.”

It was nice knowing that Taeyong lives the life he feels comfortable and the happiest in even though it wasn’t exactly an easy path when he was younger, in university trying to learn languages and hopefully become a translator with a good paying job. But now even if he wasn’t making that much money he was happy that he got to open up this café in this first place; it was like a new beginning, a new opportunity has risen into his life trying to show him a way to live. And the man took it. It made you think about yourself and how your life is looking currently.

Even the smallest person you think of can change the course of the future.

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The road is midnight under the cloud, yet beyond is the dawn. You’re walking through the tunnel trying to make sense of the starry painting above as the sun has set a long ago. its rising is alternating between the times, it was too late and you left the café now. Taeyong has kept you company by speaking with you giving the courage who wait in faith for your upcoming exams. And so, even though you left happier and refreshed it dimmers down the minute you were alone. Walking with your hands cold and shuddering inside the pockets of your hoodie. You didn’t bring a jacket with you, it was quite warm in the day and suddenly the night made it freezing as if it were a course of the winter.

Sometimes you rather think the forecasts have it out for the weather. It’s too bipolar to even consider.

The bag slipped on your singular right shoulder resting there with its long beige straps. It was a tote bag enough to hold your university stuff as well as a laptop if you wanted to bring it along. It can hold textbooks and even some clothing if you wished to bring them in or with you anywhere. It was conscientious convenient that these bags exist without them you’d be stuck with a stuffed school bag having to drag it on your poor back. You’d imagine the back pain to be a hassle.

Nonetheless you were spacing through the tunnel and then making your way out. You’d take the route from the café to the park late at night. There was a long tunnel you have to pass through from the streets and under it you go through revealing the large park pathway. The dark green grass sticking out and the trees around you occasionally watch out of boredom.

Your hands were under your waistband area holding in one palm your phone. It has probably thirty percentage left on it. You reckon you’d stay longer in the café if only your portable charger wasn’t out of battery. It leaves you with only one choice to leave and head back to your apartment.

The park was closed away from the people, normal residents were asleep at this time and only the people working night shifts were roaming but not inside the park. You thought you were the only one, until in the far distance you saw a group huddling the path from the far. Right now it was far too away to tell what the men were doing so you didn’t think anything of it.

Your apartment was close by the university and slightly far away from the café and the park you’re strolling down through. If you had to make a guess it would only take twenty minutes by foot to make it back to your home.

‘Just what on earth was happening over there?’ You can’t help but come closer taking a look at the crowd. It was a bunch of men beating down another man.

They sent down a panic alert to your spine and you rush forward when the men turn to notice your presence approaching. Big wrong move because you’re now having fullest attention brought to you, a young woman alone in a dark part trying to get by, looking like you were trying to disturb them from teaching a young guy a lesson.

The man with a ragged tooth was the most interested in you. He showed the more intrusive thoughts of you. He found you quite charming with the way you rushed into a dangerous situation without a single thought.

“Yah! Leave that man alone. He is bleeding. You’ll kill him at that rate.” You scream but kept a promising distance still but enough for you to have a view of what they did to the poor boy.

He was coughing out blood on the floor trying to get up but whenever he brought the strength to do something the men surrounding him looking like gangsters were ready to kick his back down forcing him to be flat on the ground, defenceless and unable to move. You couldn’t stand watching something this cruel and gruesome, heck the sight of blood was too much for you to take, you hate seeing blood. It freaks you out and to see another man bleeding near-to-death really ruins you up with anxiety.

The man cackled at your reactions, you can’t help but think they might be on the psychopath side more than the humane. It wasn’t normal to be this cruel. “You can join us how about that?” The man was taking steps to you and the minute you tried to run back showing your phone. “I will call the police if you take another step forward!” You threaten them.

It didn’t work.

You weren’t sure why you thought it would work. The men in front of you look like they don’t care for consequences, so why would they care for police? Your threats were pushed aside just like you were grabbed with your wrist throwing you on the ground discarding your phone you drop it. The man crawling above you made sure your wrists were straddling both ways in his hands.

Then you look over to the man. Your brain soon realised you’re being crowded by not one man but now you were cradled by multiple men — all together they were ten men guarding you with a demonic look on their faces you can’t explain. It felt like a dark power within them that scared you.

You were gripped so hard you can’t avoid their slimy hands that touched your hair, finding it super soft and beautiful, the others tried the best to sneak their way to your clothing but you were squirming and screaming. Heck you even tried to bite them off literally!

The man laying on the floor saw you becoming their target and he ran away for it. You widen your eyes watching him run away. ‘That bastard! He ran away!’ You can’t believe it, you literally tried to save him!

The minute you thought you were doomed, the men were practically near to ready to strip you off the clothes. Your blouse was coming undone with the ribbon knot coming off revealing your collarbones and then you clench your eyes screaming. “SOMEONE HELP ME, ANYONE.”

You prayed, you really did. You’re not even a religious person anyways but you prayed for you to be safe and saved by someone. The minute you thought you died you were welcomed to see a man flying across the park, thrown with a kick and flying so many yards it was inhuman for a normal person to kick someone in the air so far with such speed and precision. Your eyes widen trembling at who this new person coming in, it felt like a new predator ready to eat you and the gangsters men who near-harassed yourself. You couldn’t tell if he was helping you or if he was ready to kill you too. The men were distracted by the new force encouraging them to fight.

Yourself you felt a shiver down your spine. No one saw the person who was assassinating them in the darkness it’s as if they were the darkness itself. You felt too exposed meanwhile you trying to track the invisible force targeting the enemies were one by one dropping like freaking flies over here.

It scared you, scared you because you might be the next fly who drops dead.

“Where is that bastard coming from?!” One man yelled out loud.

“Woohoo, here piggy!” A voice suddenly called out causing them to turn around to see a hanging man on a tree floating by a spiderweb. Your eyes itch on what you saw.

The man thrown a punch the minute he saw the red man only to get a headbutt falling unconscious with a possible broken nose.

He unlatch from the tree. The spiderweb retracting back into the hands and he begins to walk on the park pathway you were laying there onto. The last man standing was behind you grabbing you up getting out a knife to your neck which made you confused, everything was so quick happening in just a span of zero point five you can’t figure out how you’re now held against a knife to your throat. You felt your oxygen pressure levels rising and you could no longer breathe.

The figure that was outlined disappeared and you can’t help but close your eyes murmuring prayers. “Please God help me, I’m sorry for not doing enough good for this world! I swear I’ll be a changed woman if i live…”

You can’t believe yourself you’re literally praying out loud. The man clench the blade to your throat and suddenly a warm liquid drops down on it. Your eyes widen as you felt the scar incoming. Your own blood slowly dripping down the blade and the man’s wrist too on the park ground.

“Shut up, or I will slice your throat.”

You take a mental note shutting up instantly, but then a thrust of wind blows you off the ground and your eyes shut down seeing blackness till you’re feeling two muscular arms pull you up and your clothing blew on the cold air sliding on your body. You felt the chest brush on your skin and you look up opening one eye, slowly opening your second eye, shocked to see spiderman has come back to save you. You, the person who was supposed to be in another man’s arms with a knife to your throat.

The spiderman came round with a web attaching to a tree flinging back with his legs doing a round house kick knocking the man over unconscious and the knife into the air landing somewhere on the grassy land. You couldn’t help but stay mesmerised he was holding you while fighting the bad guy?

What can he not do?

Your body was in the air as Spider-Man kept his hand on your body never letting you go. He swung with one muscular hand with a spider web between the buildings. He spoke to you breaking the silence, but didn’t look you into the eye, you were the one staring at him all this freaking time panicking deep inside. “Where do you live I’ll drop you off there.” He asked you firmly but you were here pausing for a long silence.

He wasn’t sure why you were so quiet until you break out of your long thoughts making you so absent minded it was out of your character.

“I- live in…” you nearly forgot where you lived you couldn’t believe it. The Spider-Man wanted to laugh seeing you so confused and lost while trying to figure out your tongue when to speak.

“There in that apartment block.” You simply move your hands pointing to the building.

Without a reply you were brought inside the building dropping you off by your door where spiderman stood still seeing your feet latch on the ground once again. Your clothing were on your body but your blouse was undone and Spider-Man occasionally avoided looking at you and instead he found the ground rather more interesting — you wanted to ask him to look at you so you could thank him but you soon realise what the problem was.

You loudly stutter out. “O-oh shit…” you grumble turning around fixing the buttons on your blouse. He turns to you again. “You’re not hurt right?”

The question was something you weren’t even sure if you were physically hurt or mentally hurt? How do you answer a question you don’t know how to answer.

You were going to say no but your hands suddenly rub down your neck and you brought it back to your view seeing blood on your palm from where you touched your neck on. Your eyes widen and you look back at the man in front of you, covered in a disguise. You weren’t sure who you were even speaking to — in reality it’s awful discomfiting how much you feel safer with a man in a fucking suit than people who don’t wear a disguise.

“I’ll be oka—“

He grabbed your wrist so softly you felt like he was cautiously careful with you. You had no choice but to come forward and love your neck to the side so he can get a full access view of the little cut on your neck from how hard that man was bruising the knife blade to your skin. You felt his hand caress the wound with his free hand and he looks at your apartment door pulling away from your neck.

He wanted to think ‘you’re not okay, you’re far from it.’ He can’t help but think why on earth were you out there so late and don’t you realise how dangerous the world is? He prays to God you realise and take notes from this situation to not make it repeat itself like old history. You saw the man look at your apartment door and letting your wrist go, you retract it back down holding it yourself.

“Can you invite me inside your apartment so i can tend to your neck wound? I cant leave it untreated.” He was so strict and stern, you wonder if he does this to everyone he saves.

‘He probably has to do this. It’s his job, Y/n.’

You couldn’t refuse the offer because two things: one he was doing his job and he probably had no choice but to treat you, and two, you want to repay him for saving your ass somehow. You were reckless today and thanks to your kind actions all you got was nearly being killed.

So much for being selfless, that man who was beaten up left you to die. He saved himself and he didn’t save you at all.

“Sure come in.” You open the apartment door unlocking it with your keys. Both entering a dark apartment you dimly lit the lamp over so you can see roaming the apartment that wasn’t too small nor too big it was probably a good spacious space for a single student studying down the road. This apartment was the only thing you could afford thankfully your parents gave you enough money to pay for this renting it.

Luckily you sometimes work down the library doing volunteering and you happen to get paid that way too. It pays a good amount of money that you allows you to pay the upcoming month’s rent.

Not like it matters you’re almost done with university, almost there you just have to ‘defeat’ Mark Lee with your grade paper by scoring higher and bam; you’ll be satisfied with your hard longing work and you will get your results and degree.

The man coming inside your apartment saw the opportunity to look around your apartment by letting his eyes wander. It was a nice cozy apartment. The couch was leather black and you had a decently size tv on the wall attached. The windows were large letting enough sunlight if it was day but since it’s night currently the only light source was the lamp.

He saw you coming back after hearing you rummage through your kitchen getting the first aid kit out and seeing you walk over he was sitting down on the couch letting you sit next to him. You were both silent until you let your mouth open.

You had so much questions, so many answers you were looking for, but he couldn’t answer them. He wanted to let you to not take it to heart.

He wanted to but he couldn’t answer them.

“Thank you for saving me…” you say softly as you saw the man in the suit sitting in front of you looking like he knew what he was doing exactly, you couldn’t believe it he knew how to professionally apply disinfectant on a cotton pad, he knew how to handle stitches too and he knew what to use on an open bleeding wound.

It shouldn’t surprise you, but you found yourself wondering how come he moved like a medical student?

His deep voice hit you like a train. “It’s my job. You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He goes quiet for a minute when applying the burning cotton pad on your wound rubbing it in stripping motion. You flinch and he saw you bite on your bottom lip at the burning dent on your neck.

It was a stinging sensation you couldn’t fight.

He spoke again trailing at one thought he was wondering all this night ever since saving you. “Why were you out this late anyways? Don’t you know bad guys are out on about the streets at night.” He was almost scolding you but you couldn’t help it when finding it was kind of comforting to have someone care for you. Even though you’ve never met them before.

“I am a busy uni student. I have my priorities to become the best of my class.” You state firmly, somehow stunning the man bearing you to say that you’d rather do everything in your power to succeed.

Somehow he felt your perfectionism and determination inspiring.

“I can’t let Mark Lee get a higher score than me.” You mutter suddenly out thinking back to the boy in your class who just boils your blood by being perfect.

You look away but you felt your throat clench when seeing his face come closer to clean it with another clean cotton pad letting the wound sink and dry no longer becoming a dry blood mess. He was making sure your neck was clean and not just tending to your wound, meanwhile cleaning he checked the rest of your body by quickly scooping with his eyes checking for any more casualties. “I don’t know why i got involved. I did an altruistic thing to someone and look where it got me.”

You scowl out scoffing with irony in your throat. This is why you prefer not being kind to people because this ends up later on. You get hurt in return.

“So much for being altruistic my ass.” You grumble.

You heard the man chuckle deeply shaking his head. He found it quite hard to believe you got involved to protect someone but at the same time there was a humane side to you where you do care. He puts the first aid equipment back into the box and closed it for you indicating he was done.

“Well you’d rather study your brain off so late to the point you could nearly get murdered? You must be the brightest student your school has.” It was a compliment melting your heart and you felt exposed and embarrassed. You can’t believe you rented to him about Mark Lee, your obsession with your grades and now your current near to death experience.

He saw your flustered expression as you gently laugh it off under your breathe, it was the softest laugh, the laugh you can’t hear but barely your ears could hear a glimpse of it in the longing air distance between your bodies.

“I’m sure you can beat that guy Mark Lee at your exams. I believe in you.”

The first time someone said they believe in you. Your heart couldn’t take such words in at first until your brain duly processed them and proclaim them to be true. It felt like a lie but in reality it was truth spoken from the heart deep inside the saviour who risked their life and time to keep you safe and protected. You smile, unconcealed by your frown or the usual expression you wear. You smiled from your heart and not from your logical perspective self.

You grumble. “Hate to break it to you but I don’t think i can because tomorrow we have this test and i don’t have a written answer for the question we are answering tomorrow.”

You pull the sheet out from your bag that you nearly forgot back into the park thankfully, your saviour has grasped it for you. The sheet of paper was placed in front of the man and you.

You sigh out wanting to pull your freaking hair out of your head because you couldn’t find or come up with an answer to this question.

He read it aloud. “What other medications could you provide to a patient who is diagnosed with a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction?” You look at him from the side humming.

“Meaning you have to make your own hypnosis as to why you’re picking this medication and what will you do once you give him it and what furthermore will you proceed.” You sigh out. “I don’t do well with questions like this and honestly i can only think of one medicine. But you can’t use this one. It has to be other medications and methods used.”

You weren’t expecting anything from the man sitting down but the minute you saw him grabbing a pencil from the table that was lying about randomly he starts writing a diagram for you to see on the sheet and your eyes widen at what you’re seeing written down within the same time space. Your thoughts about the man being a professional medic was now coming back and you were so convinced with the way he was giving you an explanation that he was something close to your subject.

Heck maybe he was a doctor who the fuck knows?

“Here,”

He puts the pencil down now facing you again. “You can use enoxaparin for the patient’s medication with a side of dual anti platelet treatment and resistance that way they will be able to get a higher chance of recovery.”

It’s the way he explained this to you and you finally had a light bulb moment it literally felt like it. He opened your eyes to an answer and you face the man in a spiderman suit. If you’re being honest you weren’t expecting spiderman to be helping you with your exam answer for tomorrow so you could pass heck you weren’t even sure if this was real. It felt like a fever dream being saved by a superhero while you were still stressing with work and now he was helping you with your school work.

You stutter out reading the whole planned out section that you could do in your exam. “Wait… how— how did you know that you can use enoxaparin for a patient with a non-ST elevation myocardial infarction.”

But the minute you turned to look around to your side to see the man in the suit disguised becoming a whole enigma to your existence he was gone no longer next to you as if he vanished from thin air and you held your breathe.

Looking around the apartment helplessly.

Your eyes land back to the sheet paper holding eye contact with the handwriting and rub your fingers on them.

‘Just who are you, Spiderman?’

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The freshman passing to get to their classes made you wonder if you would ever miss these classes and traffics on your way to get to them, you’d have to say no. You can’t wait to graduate and leave this hell joke because freshman are truly the most annoying grade you’ve ever encountered.

On your way to the great hall where everyone in your class was seated ready to do the test ahead. You spent your whole night writing an hypnosis and memorising it so you could re write it on the real exam paper.

As you walk to your seat you bump into a boy you’ve not been looking forward to meeting, again. “Mark move out my way you’re blocking my seat.” You are complaining this early in the morning? How do you have the energy to do this.

Mark can’t help but not argue back it’s been so early in the morning he doesn’t even want to hear you and your disgraceful attitude to constantly get on his case. You push through his seat and sit down the same lane but only three seats away from him. Mark was asleep resting on the table but you were revising and re reading your notes meanwhile he was sleeping. You can’t help but think he’s being incredibly rude by not taking this as seriously as you and everyone else in this hall.

From every corner there was a medical student looking back on to their notes, so why wasn’t he? Even if you’re so tired you can’t move, you should at least try to look like you’re doing something.

You murmur under your breathe. “So much for showing off. If you wish to sleep you shouldn’t of come at all.”

‘He’s so unbearable.’ You complain.

The boy lifts his head up. You notice the fleek of his blue-ish silver alike hair was messy almost as if he didn’t even try to brush it yet he made it look super good despite being the normal bed hair.

He shots at you trotting back with the same energy and attitude as you. If you’re going to be insufferable he might as well match your horrible words too. “Mind your own business and focus on your own work.”

He grits his teeth at you. “I ain’t the one who constantly gets a point lesser than the work I’ve submitted.” He stalls. “Starting to think you’re a bitch by default.”

You stop watching him completely bite back and chew you open and then, just to chew you up again and spit you out into the bin like you’re nothing but rotten gooey mess that cannot be digested.

You didn’t reply but you can’t help but find Mark to be incredibly off the edge today and the minute the professor came in handing out the test papers the game was on. Your brains were on the A game trying to answer with much detail to the question everyone should’ve been revising yesterday. You remember that last night Spiderman has helped you and you were taking his advice with a mix of your own method process to make it your own work too. You felt confident now and unlike before, you’d actually think you might finally have a good hypothesis —better than Mark Lee’s.

The exam surprisingly went well however and you and Mark were both left in the hall finishing up the last touches. You finished before Mark only by twenty minutes until he came running his eyes behind you seeing you walk away with a proud smug.

Your paths disconnected. You walked away but unlike then you realised you forgot your own phone and airpods on the desk.

“Shit!”

You ran back going up the stairs in hurry and then forcing your way back into the hall you open the door wifely. The professor was out of bounds for a little bit only leaving Mark walking out of the lane but you bump into him suddenly knocking his stuff out of the arms and he looks at you.

He was staring you down in disbelief finding this incredibly annoying. He founds you super annoying today and he doesn’t know why or what. He can’t put his fingers on why you keep getting in his way.

You look away glaring. “Ugh watch where you’re going Lee.” You grumble going down on your knees lifting his stuff up. Hey at least you’re helping him.

Mark sighs grabbing his back and pen off the floor meanwhile you grab his piece of exam sheet he’s written loads on. But your eyes caught onto something similar and your brain suddenly flickers like you’ve connected a dot to another dot.

enoxaparin and Dual anti pallet?

You couldn’t believe it but the same handwriting and the same words you’ve heard from last night it really struck you until a harsh arm reaches out grabbing it out of your fingers glaring at you.

Mark looks at your dazed expression grumbling. “Hope you’re not cheating by being nosey Hm?” He side tracks pushing past you putting his exam paper on the pile with the rest of them and then going back up the stairs leaving through the door .

You held your gaze at him grabbing your phone and airpods running after the boy suddenly, suddenly you’re looking for an answer for your conspiracy theory.

‘There’s no way he’s spiderman, there’s no way!’

You caught him outside walking out the campus and down the road you’ve seen Mark stop turning around to see you shouting his name on top of your lungs. You catch your breathe, he saw the bright red colour on your cheeks from simply running after him all the way from the campus Uni to the freaking city roads. Mark raised an eyebrow judging why you’re following him when in reality — you wanted answers you seek so badly.

You want to wish you’re wrong. Your enemy cannot be your saviour that you are thankful for.

It makes this whole situation stupid on yourself. If you’re the one being fooled, god you don’t know what you’d do.

“Mark are you— Spider-Man?”

You ask him panting out heavily catching your legs before straightening upwards your body. The way your gaze fell apart the minute Mark raised his eyes up in surprise at your assumption.

Mark didn’t know why he couldn’t say no to you.

He wasn’t even sure why you’re catching onto him and if you are he wants to know how.

Somehow, you knew from his gaze. His gaze alone gave you an answer.

Mark grabs your wrist suddenly pulling you away. “What makes you say that, Y/n?” He was seriously asking you now and you were terrified wondering what he’s about to do.

He grabbed your wrist leading you up to a rooftop on a building that wasn’t even locked. The lock in the door was broken letting anyone walk up there for a long view of Seoul city and you’ve never felt more terrified of heights until now.

The boy from your class, your enemy and rival, the one you despise pushed you to the railings of the building staring into your eyes. His eyes were filled with tension and fear wondering what you’ll do if you find out his truth. His secret he’s kept from even his family.

Heck you weren’t sure what you’d do yourself if it was true.

“Wait why are we here?” You blabber out suddenly. Why the rooftop?

Mark ignored your requested question and simple puts the bag down and his shoes off. Your eyes widen as you saw Mark now trailing over the freaking railing of the rooftop standing on the edge and your mouth drops down thousand pieces before you knew it you shouted for him to stop.

“Wait- Mark holy fuck what are you doing!!” You slowly approach him and Mark turns to you making you stop with a single look at you.

He paused looking down at the heights above. It was fifteen stories high, maybe even more fox knows what. You couldn’t believe what Mark was doing and you felt like you were pressured into doing something to save your freaking enemy.

He spoke so seriously and sternly. “You asked me if I’m spiderman,” he looks at you again. “What do you think is the correct answer, Y/n?”

You weren’t sure.

If anything you were going based on your instinct and the handwriting you saw last night. It looked identical to the one Mark wrote on the exam paper today. It just made you think maybe it was him.

But now that Mark was standing on the railings looking like he was about to jump any minute you weren’t fucking sure. You’re contemplating. Second guessing your answer.

Conflicting information accounts your reality.

“Answer.” He demands shouting at you.

Seeing you flinch like you’re freezing and terrified to death he could see you shout back just as much at him.

“Yes! Okay! I think you’re fucking spider-man who saved me last night.”

And that is when your heart sank like it was drowning in between the seven seas completely squished between the contracting waves and the black hole draining you to a drift mark between your only breath of hope. As your heart broke down you could feel yourself dropping down after Mark. You crawled down the railings and jumped down right after the boy trying to grab his hand. He was dropping fast from each floor story —

15…

14…

13…

By the time you knew it you’re linking past two digits into singular and Mark opens his eyes widening seeing you drop down to grab him. ‘You’re so stupid…’ he couldn’t help but find your way down with him recklessly looking on you. For someone who’s so smart you have a way of becoming irrational.

You thought you were going to die until Mark grabbed you suddenly by your hands interlocking them. As he held your hand so tightly you felt your entire world swoosh open like an upside tennis ball on an open court. A huge spiderweb as connected you back to the rooftop that you jumped out off in the first lane.

Mark carried you over the railings as you were shaking gasping out for breath because he took it away.

You nearly doubted him being spiderman, because the only reason you jumped down was to save him knowing he was spiderman.

You fell to your knees holding your chest. Mark follows your outline silhouette of your hourglass and you glare looking at him.

“I’m not sure if you’re fucking dumb or if you enjoy being in dangerous situations.”

He seethes between his teeth harshly.

“Me dumb?” You repeated. You wanted to laugh for a minute at his audacity. You’re not the one who jumped down a flight of fifteen stories because you wanted to prove something to someone.

He was suddenly hit by hit hand against his chest. “You fucking— psycho!”

“Okay I deserve that.” He states understanding why you’re exactly cursing him.

Mark saw you curse him in long strings of words and shouts he couldn’t tell which one it was — words or freaking lyrics to a Kanye west song?

“What the fuck was your motive for this.”

“I didn’t know if i could trust you with my identity.” He sores out and you face him with your gaping mouth.

“So you think jumping down fifteen stories and me jumping after you will make you trust me? What’s fucking wrong with you— Y’know what you need to be put into a psych ward.” You blast. “There’s a thing called communication, Mark Lee!”

“Right…”

Mark looks at you finally calming down as you reclaimed your oxygen inside your deprived body it felt like the whole adrenaline was hunting you down. The boy came to an conclusion that you were one of a kind — no one would jump for their enemy or even an academic rival you wish to destroy. But you did it.

He wants to know how you caught him too, but he could take a guess.

“Question Y/n—“

“Hm?” You hum out softly turning around and the boy stops speaking as your calm and relaxed eyes rest on him.

You weren’t looking at him like you want to hate him in fact you were just looking at him without a singular emotion except perhaps, a hint of gladness maybe?

You could feel Mark’s breath returning. “How’d you find out I’m… spiderman.”

You’d smirk. “Your handwriting.”

He sighs out. “Dammit. I knew that would be a problem.” You laugh a little knowing he must feel slightly caught but lucky for him you aren’t going to expose him.

He did save you, you owe him that much.

“Hey Mark?”

Mark looks up at you finally catching a whiff of your hair scent when the air blows behind your head and your back. He couldn’t smell anything else but a hint of your watermelon and strawberry shampoo. It made him somehow feel better about it, knowing it was such a pleasant smell.

You smile at him. “Wanna come to my apartment and start anew?” You couldn’t help but think maybe you and Mark could become friends.

He saved you, even though you treated him like badly because of wanting to be better than him.

He could photosnap a picture of your smile like this if he was honest. He would. “Sure Y/n.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It’s crazy how much the dynamic between you wanting to ram Mark Lee’s face into a wall every morning whenever you’re on the way to your class to now actually cooking with Mark Lee in your apartment kitchen casually making ramen together.

You weren’t sure how you got here.

But let’s not question it, you thought.

Mark casually chops spring onion into thin slices as you drain the ramen out the water and then slowly put them into two bowls: one for you and one for mark.

Mark sees you opening the sauce packets and pour the sauce over the noodles in the bowls. He brings out the chopsticks and walks to the fridge humming.

“Now let’s see what drinks you have in the fridge.” He’d look inside the fridge and he sees the options looking very sad and bleak.

He looks at you from the side. “Really? No juice except for water?”

You thinly smile. “If you’re going to complain how about you buy yourself juice down the store.”’

He rolls his eyes as you blatantly throw a sarcastic threat that wasn’t very, sarcastic at the same time. He grabs the cold iced water out the fridge slamming the door and walking over pouring it into one cup. He passed you it and you look up.

“For me?” You let out taking it. “Thanks. You’re not so bad as i thought.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He laughs.

You shrug smirking grabbing the bowl to take it inside the living room. The boy follows you from behind with his very own plate of the noodles in and you put the tv on letting it play in the background.

As you guys ate in peace occasionally you guys spoke asking each other questions about the most random things.

It started off asking about the weirdest thing that happened to you.

You both answered each other, guess it was fate?

“I really envied you Mark.” You boost as you dig your chopsticks into the ramen eating. Mark couldn’t really understand how you can envy him, but he always had a feeling you were out to destroy him for whatever reason.

You guess he now knows how you truly felt. You were filled with jealousy and hate because he in your eyes was probably the most perfect person out. The ideal student. The ideal son. The ideal husband for a woman. You kinda grew a sour taste in your mouth ever since meeting him but you feel now perhaps it could be a sweeter one where you don’t have to actively hate each other.

Mark sat there watching you eat but he really doesn’t know how you could be there envying him when you are there sitting looking effortlessly pretty on the face overall eating ramen, at home while you’re equally smart too.

“Do you need help with that?”

He would ask pointing to the hair that keeps falling down into your food everytime you lower your face to take a bite from the chopsticks. You were caught by surprise when Mark’s hands moves closer rolling up your long hair around his fists like a ponytail and lets you take a clean bite on the ramen. You chew happily smiling and Mark felt a sort of happiest seeing you eat with a wide smile.

You look back at him seeing how he stayed still holding your hair in his hands, rolling it up so nicely. You never told him to do that, but he did it anyways.

You guess it must be the side effect of being a worldwide super hero. You have to help others without asking.

Your eyes take a moment to appreciate Mark up close. It’s a rare moment given, so you didn’t waste time taking all the small details about his handsome face.

Yes, he is handsome. You have to give him that.

Mark saw the way your eyes fell on his lips and then back to his eyes going in a circle trying to see where you can look. It’s like you can’t keep a straight eye contact with him at the same time, you don’t have to look at his lips to be obvious.

It wasn’t long till his deep timber voice brought you back to reality where your bodies closeness was still there awaiting for sign movement. “Earth to Y/n?” He softly chuckles seeing you break apart.

You look up at him. “You zoned out on me Y/n.” He beams lightly watching you put the chopsticks down. You clear your throat.

“Sorry.” You reply with a smile, your attention goes back onto Mark no matter what. He’s a magnet for your eyes.

“Must be my handsome face distracting you.” It was a joking quote but little did he know it was exactly why you’re zoning out. Because of his handsome face and you weren’t sure how to reply until you’d roll your eyes over scoffing out as if that could ever happen.

You hum. “So you’re crazy and delusional.” You quote back and Mark smirks turning to you giving you a little nudge.

“All the best people are, honey.” He throws.

You sometimes wonder how did he get such quick comebacks for everything you’ve got to say it’s like he’s a complete generator ready and made to defeat you at every word on the end.

He has to have the last word.

“Honey?” You said back surprised to know he used such a given nickname.

He looks at you smiling as he ate more of the ramen. You felt your cheeks grew slightly pink.

‘Honey.’ You repeated.

Your attentions were soon moved to another conversation you two ended up bringing in and it was about your class. Of course the thing you’re both seriously insane about and you could tell this would be a whole war between you two.

But somehow this was different at the same time it wasn’t too. You both were disagreeing and debating argument but now you are talking with it like normal people. You’re not avoiding him.

Mark enjoys seeing you debate with him.

He loves a good challenge and a different point of view too.

“Right so you’re telling me you’d rather be in surgery than a cataract operation?” Mark couldn’t believe you’d rather chose the most stressful option of the day, he was leering at you shaking his head.

An operation leaves you more free loaded work to do meanwhile surgery can go wrong many ways because it has more people involved.

You strain out. “Of course. Surgery is more important than an operation.”

“So you’d take one for the team no matter what the outcome is?”

You shrug. “I either come out as a hero or come out as a failure.” You smirk out. “But we both know I only take wins so, I will never come out as a failure.”

You’re too much of a perfectionist to come out as a failure surgeon in a surgery.

“You’re too confident for your own good.” He stated with a laughter and you smirk watching Mark. “Of course i am. What is there about me that’s not good?”

For a minute Mark was told to look at you trying to figure out a flaw but he could not. He trails down capturing every little figure detail on your face which made his heart skip a beat and he wore it on his sleeve when he answers you truthfully, staring at your lips beginning to list out your features like he was drunk on them.

“You have perfect kissable lips, beautiful eyes…” he stops himself halfway through, he wanted to compliment your hands, saying how easy they fit into his when that night he held you.

“I have kissable lips?” You blurt out.

Mark awkwardly pauses looking away. God he shouldn’t of said that.

“No- I mean- yes— wait god no. What am I saying.”

You move closer and he flinches at your sudden movement pulling the man closer your mouth closes the gap and he can feel your lips slowly kissing him enough to give Mark the confidence for his arms to slowly wrap them underneath your body lifting you falling. He falls back on the couch with you on top kissing him with so much powerful he had no idea you were feeling this way, he felt your emotions, every bit and one of them. The kiss spoke a million words that you wanted to say with your voice but couldn’t. Mark’s hands caress down your back roaming under your shirt feeling your warmth body than they slip down groping your ass.

You press harder into the kiss you share with the man underneath you when he grabbed it giving it a tight squeeze on your round and perfect shape ass. He could die from how perfect your body is, a hourglass that could leave him dead on the train tracks. He loves every inch of you it’s to die for.

His voice strains past the red lips achingly adding. “God you’re fucking perfect, Y/n.” You loved hearing him moan from just a single kiss.

You’d wonder what noises he’d made once he’s inside you, you were craving to know.

You were stressing on his lap freely trying to undress yourself as soon as possible however you were struggling with the buttons and Mark couldn’t help but smile watching your fingers slip away. He slowly moves on the shirt unbuttoning you sensually while eyeing you up and down.

You felt your face grow red when you saw how he was watching you so intensely you weren’t even aware. Mark captured a kiss on your lips. “You looked like you needed help.”

You smirk on the short lived kiss. He slid off your shirt revealing your shoulders and your cleavage between your bra on. He swore he loves every part of you, even your chest looks out of this world. Every little detail about you turns him on.

It was magical in a way what you do to him.

Mark lays you down putting one hand between your spine undoing your bra uncoupling it with just one hand and you felt it go loose as he stripped the rest of you spreading his mouth down your chest now. Kicking between your nipple folds and kissing your breasts so tenderly, fondling them. You were arching your back grinding your stomachs together as you were rolling out your soft moans.

The next thing you knew it his mouth was around your pelvis slipping out your panties to the side and pressing the thin tip of his tongue on your folds through the panties you couldn’t help but watch yourself fold down, apart, sideways — every position freaking possible you were in. Mark loved seeing you break down for only his mouth wait until he fucks you for real.

He made sure his mouth left you wet and warm, he also made sure you would come and give him a taste of yourself because he’s not going to fuck you until you do exactly that.

You moan into your hand when you felt his teeth gently brush on your sensitive clit and your body clutch onto the couch flatly as Mark pinned a hand on your stomach hitching inside with each ragged finger inside your hole or when overstimulating you with his tongue you took the largest breathe inside. Everytime you did so his hand on your stomach felt it and he loved seeing and feeling your body tense up from all the ways he’s eating you out, like he was practically starved for you, made for you to do this to you. You loved the fact that his nose rests flat on you sometimes because he loves to see you above as he eats you out underneath.

He loves seeing your head fling back or your eyes roll back. He loves seeing your hair become a brush out mess and your neck veins popping out from how much you’re withdrawing your moans or you’re stuttering out your noises like they were broken recording tapes you would listen back on to.

Mark felt your wet leaning pussy throb and his eyes lit up seeing you moan higher. He knew you were close now and you’re running away from it.

He however, was not letting you go run.

You moan loudly. “Fuck-fuck I’m going to come.”

Mark muffles against your leaking hole pushing his tongue further deep now enough to stretch between your folds in a circular motion you shake your thighs uncontrollably. “Don’t run away from it now honey.” Mark wanted to taste you finally.

Without you knowing what’s to come next Mark’s fingers roughly entering you hitting the g spot loosely stretching your walls out in places you’ve never known could be done before and then his tongue was stuck on your clit going on and on like a running wheel on a car. Non stop driving you to your maximum speeds and mileage you couldn’t handle so much at once, especially his fingers, they felt too good to be true. He knew how to work with them, it’s like he will never catch you slipping. He had, spidery senses where he could just make you come on his fingers with just one movement.

Snap…

It’s all he needed to see when he saw you spew on his fingers right there and then wetting them with your pussy juices. He brought them out momentarily licking them clean and you watch him before he retract them back inside you seeing you moan out loud when he did so.

“Fuck, Mark….” You blabber.

You’re already so out of it and Mark can’t help but think how you’ll look and sound when his cock is in the picture with you.

He dug inside your pussy with his fingers humming down loving to see your juices come in and out. “You’re so… sweet tasting.” He trails loving you on his taste buds more than he anticipated.

“Can’t wait to feel you come undone on my cock.” And that’s when you felt your world splitting into two as he said this getting out the erected cock in front of you. You let your mouth spit on his tip massaging it with your saliva and Mark groaning out as he positions his tip to your aligning entrance, you felt the anticipation kill you till you feel a large wound coming in and pulling you widely apart.

You’re underneath Mark gazing into his eyes as you held on the side to his arms for support. You began to clench your eyes tight to adjust to him fully, who the heck knew he was going to be this big?

You didn’t see it coming until now you’re feeling it coming.

You were mourning for your grave the minute your done with him you’ll going to be the first person to have troubles walking after getting fucked out by your saviour Spiderman. You weren’t expecting it for him to be good in bed now too — you arch your back slowly when Mark starts thrusting as he feels you taking the shape of his cock. Your body was following him so well he feel like you were the perfect match for a rhythm player.

Mark could feel everything about you as much as you feel everything about him. His cock pumping you up until you will be ready to come undone chasing your high, or should in this case be highs. Mark was making sure you come out of here with so much drain energy that you will get lost counting the times you came in the scene. You knew he was making you feel the ultimate pleasure he can produce and you, you were shocked he could go on so much.

He loves seeing your stomach take an image of his manhood deep working inside. He loved the sight more than he should’ve because next he’s ramming in you to see a rougher sight of his cock hitting your stomach.

You were there arching constantly wondering how did he find the most sensitive places for your body, even yourself you never knew this could make you become a moaning mess under him.

He loves see your face scrunch up whenever you moan his name. He loves to hear your voice and to feel your words reach his heart.

Next thing you know, you’re the one becoming a blabbering fool who’s going on about how good he feels and how amazing he’s fucking you out till you lost your mind. Mark wants to tell you he knows, because he can feel every inch of you clenching his cock wanting to milk him dry within you nonstop. You want this to become a limitless.

Limitless moment with him.

Mark groans clutching your pelvis down. “I’m going to…!”

He couldn’t finish his sentence faster than his body. You hold your breath as you felt him snap finally inside you feeling a pair of warm fluid inside your body and you achingly put a hand on his shoulder as he was breathing heavily against your neck.

You could sense his heartbeat and your own too, Mark loves the sound of yours matching his. It made this moment somehow more memorable and special.

You tiredly close your eyes sighing out.

“So, Spiderman how do you feel about a date?”

Mark couldn’t believe his ears until he lifts his fave away from your neck staring into your eyes.

He might be becoming a fool for you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Please reblog this fic and follow me for more it helps a girl out. <3

[olderthannetfic]

Sometimes I see people in fandom get angry at writers for not writing a more common experience. For instance, I got someone angry at me ranting about how I was pushing false narratives when I wrote a character who'd known they were trans since they were young. I knew I was trans when I was young and I have never in my life said anything bad about anyone who has the much more common experience of realizing it later. A friend of mine got people going "ugh, this is so trite and cliche" in her comments because she wrote a character who is totally, completely deaf and was from birth. She was deaf from birth and is so in a way where even an implant wouldn't help. I've seen multiple people complain about an author in my fandom writing a Mizrahi Jewish character instead of "normal" Jewish one (whatever the fuck that means). The writer is Mizrahi.

I get that a lot of people look at fandom and want it to be representation but why does it have to only represent the most common experiences in a group? Why can't it represent my experience, or my friend's experience, or some other author's experience? Just because we have somewhat unusual lives, does that mean we have to excise everything resembling our lives from the stories to make them "more normal"?

--

I remember when Fringe came out and people were rolling their eyes at Astrid's triple major or whatever it was... She was literally in the same department I got my undergrad degree in, and people with a bunch of majors and minors were extremely common both because it was smartypants college and because of the specific major and department in question.

[intotherumiverse]

★ ૮₍ ≧ . ≦ ₎ა 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 !!

ღ. synopsis ; one peice characters and the majors and trades they're in !

ღ. featuring ; luffy m. ; zoro r. ; sanji v. ; ussop ; robin ; nami ; chopper ; brook + bonus !

ღ. cw ; weed mention, cursing, shitposting

ღ. notes ; i haven't written in so long I forgot how to so this.... bare w me on this one !

luffy

luffy is an international relation major

all the professors love him and its defintely the only reason he's passing his classes

he has not one clue what going on (most of the time), head empty

also has really good finals grades

like its so surprising to see him pass with a low b high c average

he's really likeable, everyone and they momma wants to hang out with him

usally hanging out with sanji (bc he cooks) or zoro (caus he thinks he's cool)

he tutors with nami and robin sometimes (they're the only ones that can deal with him on the regular)

he's so silly and goofy i love him your honor

zoro

bussniess major but is never doing what he needs to do

classes? not in them. Homework? What's that? he is no where to be found and that should scare you.

he's somehow doing well in class and no one can figure out how he's doing it.

he's the captain of the fighting club (first rule of fight club? no talking about fight club) and he's good with members and running them

he hates the idea of hazing in his club and will kick you out if you try it

he has a special bond with one of the advisors given to him and he defends him like hell

he hangs around luffy bc he thinks of him as a little brother and wants to make sure he's alright

fights with sanji because he thinks its sooooo fucking funny

he's a regualar at the local bar to the point they don't even I.D him anymore they're just like "there's zoro."

sanji

definitely a food science major

he loves trying out new recipes and helping in the kitchen

sometimes when money gets low, he'll have a bake sale and they always do really fucking well

sometimes he'll take apprentenships for "fun" and so he's just racked up expirence in working in different places

his dream job is to have his own resturant where he can create his own dishes and not take any shit from anyone

also (because my sanji is a weed smoker not a cig user) will sometimes make weed pastries and they do so well when he sells them

would be outside on a smoke break but somehow never smells like weed its so crazy

would be the type of student to grumble and complain about homework but still do it anyway (he's just like me fr)

ussop

went to a shopworking trade school (his momma didn't want him to learn nothing after high school so she made him)

he found out later that he like working on different things and keeping himself busy

he also like gardening in his spare time

he's like really good at it and sometimes when his garden is too much for his family, he'll either give it to his neighbors or sell it in the farmer's market

his most frequent customer is sanji because sanji likes the freshest products avaliable

sanji askes him to hang out and try his recipes from time to time and eventually he makes friends with everyone

nami

earth sceiene major with minor in accounting

she is the the most ruthless student you'll ever meet

she don't take any shit from no one regardless of who you are, which is why she makes such a good tutor

she makes sure all her students get a good grade and because she tutors both zoro and luffy, she makes BANK

she also is the pretty girl on campus and all her friends pretty too !

hair done, lashes done, lashes done, face card don't decline, body tea !

she loves hanging out with the group but she'll never tell you that but everyone knows she cares about her people

she's lowkey scary

she isn't afriad to curse you the fuck out when you piss her off

fiercely loyal my girl nami is badddd

robin

history major with a minor in english

knows everything about everything and is one of the best tutors of the campus

she's kinda shy (mostly cause she doesn't like people but she's trying)

luffy thought she was cool and just kept bothering her until she reluctantly accepted

she's a real history buff and can debate her history like no one else

once got into it with zoro for a peice of random history

chopper

struggling medicene major

he looks stressed at all times and somehow is keeping a 4.0 gpa

luffy and zoro will come over with brusises and he just takes one look at him and sighs deeply

he helps in the nursing home with the doctors because he feels happy when people are treated

he doesn't like when people treat him or others differently so he's such a big advocate for anti discrimination against anyone

he likes helping people that most doctors would ignore and people hate him for that

he's not good at taking compliments so its funny to see him react to the compliments

he loves sweets and he loves when sanji makes them so he's always first in line at sanjis bake sale

he's so cute and small your honor

frankky

mechanic (trade school)

a literal grease monkey

he's always making something in his garage and

he makes custom peices for his friends and even sold some to some of the rich kids

besides that he's really cool about things

he's co chill about everything and help fix things whenever the crew needs it

all in all a cool dude

brook

old ass music head

he's one of the best musicains and he's so casual about it

he's a allumi for the school and he takes students every year to train them and teach them what he knows

he only takes like 5 students a year so the spots are very competative and very hard to get into

hes so chill otherwise

the type of mentor to call you out on your bullshit but still

extra little bonus scene!

the gang goes to Jinbe's resturant every week after all they're classes. Luffy had stumbled upon it one day and he just slowly started to get his friends to go their and that's just become their hangout spot since then. Jinbe pretends to hate when they come over but in all actuality, he loves talking to them and getting to know them as a group and as individuals. he loves their energy and will make sure they eat well and they're getting good grades.

no tag list for now but make sure you're supporting the people that are spending time making works for your entertainment !

@rynfiles ; @strawhatkia

[changedmyminditsnicehere]

So here it is! Only many months after my last fic, I am delighted to present, Hob and Dream make bad choices in a back office, the fic. I really hope this will mark the start of me coming back to writing a bit more after a slump! I've got ideas for keeping up this AU if people like, so please do let me know!

=======

Hob didn't normally attend these sorts of events. Scratch that. Hob had never attended one of these events before. It wouldn't even have crossed his mind if Genny hadn't suggested it at the Humanities start-of-term drinks. So what if Genny was a broke history of art student and Hob was a professor? Professor shmessor. As far as his salary was concerned, he certainly wasn't going to turn down the chance at a free glass of wine on a Thursday evening. That said wine had to be drunk in front of some incomprehensible contemporary art while surrounded by the sort of person who was very determined that they alone could comprehend it was a minor issue. Hob drank with Joyce professors, a few neo-expressionists were nothing to him.

With his spirits fortified by that thought, Hob had taken the plunge, looked up the nearest and soonest private art gallery opening in Mayfair, put on a slightly nicer suit than he normally wore and got on the tube. On arrival, Hob had realised the suit was completely unnecessary. Certainly, some of the (older) attendees were decked out in what was clearly thousands of pounds of suit, but the majority of the young crowd looked like they had taken a wrong turn through the zombie apocalypse on their way from whatever trendy bit of North London they emanated from. Ah, youth.

Still, Hob was unlikely to have fit in even if he had attempted to squeeze himself into some drainpipe leather trousers. He wasn't going to complain about seeing them on someone else. As he carefully lifted a glass of wine from the tray of a nearby waiter, nodding gratefully, Hob looked around the white-walled room, eyes passing over canvases and the crowd alike, then stopping. No, he certainly wasn't going to complain about leather trousers on anyone, especially not if some of the attendees could fill them out so well.

The figure had his back to Hob. One ebony hand gestured at a large canvas of swirling lines of black and near black and hips cocked at an angle that was doing, just, everything, for said trousers, the figure was clearly mid-sermon on the meaning of the mess to the young woman next to him. She was half to leather-trousers, half to the work, though the amusement twirling around her lips told Hob she was taking neither very seriously. If it was an art nerd's attempt at seduction, it wasn't going well. Hob snorted to himself and raised his glass, taking a sip of commiseration for all those poor undergrads who had ever tried to chat up a woman via metaphysics. 

The movement must have caught the woman’s eye. Her gaze flicked in his direction and Hob wasn’t fast enough in raising his eyes from the work of art in leather in front of him to the artworks around him. Brown eyes caught Hob’s and the woman’s amusement sparkled into an outright wicked smirk. Utterly careless that her companion was still mid-homily, the young woman reached out, grabbed him by the arm and dragged them both towards Hob. The crowd, previously stifling, seemed to flow apart like the Red Sea in her path. Hob found himself rooted to the spot as she held eye contact, unable to mingle off into the crowd as he had hoped.

By comparison, her companion had clearly not caught up with their new direction yet. Barely facing the right way, they were following with all the grace and hangdog expressions of a particularly put-upon wolfhound. Yet Hob was hardly going to complain about the opportunity to see said expression. If the view from the back had been good, then oh boy, the front was something else. Pale pale skin, with high cheekbones, wild dark hair and a nose meant for looking down on people, the man was a vision in black and anger. Somehow, Hob knew he was the artist behind the baffling canvases on show tonight. He also knew he really wanted to know what the artist looked like after Hob had licked away the anger currently curling those rose-bud lips. 

Unfortunately, imagining licking this beautiful vampire of a man, on his face or elsewhere, was hardly conducive to making the best first impression. As the woman pulled up directly in front of him, smirking delightedly up, Hob floundered desperately for an opening statement that wasn’t going to leave him wearing his drink.

"Hello?" There. That was a good start.

"Hello there yourself. I saw you standing over here admiring my brother's work and I just had to bring him over to say hello." Her brother clearly didn't agree if the way those dark eyes were currently flinting up at Hob was anything to go by. “I’m Morana, this is Dream.” Morana had a beautiful, chocolatey voice which she was absolutely using to encourage Hob into joining her in her mischief.

“Hob, Hob Gadling. It’s lovely to meet you.” Hob congratulated himself for managing a whole sentence and a completely unawkward tip of his wine glass towards the pair. Dream did not seem like he would appreciate the offer of a handshake, even if Hob’s palms hadn’t already felt sweaty enough he was worried about losing grip on his drink.

"It's just so hard to extract Dream from his studio,” Morana declared, a theatricality which could only be achieved by older siblings very much tinging her words. “I think it is important he talk to people who show an interest in his art whenever we manage it, don't you?" She was in no way even attempting to hide her awareness that Hob’s interests might lie elsewhere than Dream’s art, or her apparent delight in the fact. Dream, by comparison, was clearly trying to pretend that he was not party to their conversation at all. Well, Hob thought, two can play at that game.

"Oh, what can I say?" He smirked right back. "I've always found myself partial to the colour black."

"Perfect! Dream's all about black at the moment."

Dream, beautiful creature that he was, was not, it turned out, very good at tuning out inanities when directed at his work. With a derisive snort, he shifted his gaze from the mysteries of the universe to Hob and Morana.

“As I was just telling you, sister, the whole point of these works is that they are not actually black…”

“They are infinite colours, infinite varieties, I know dear brother. I wrote your catalogue essay. How about you explain it all to Hob here?” Her eyes positively gleamed. “I’m sure he’d love to hear all about your work. In fact, why don’t I leave you two to it? I’m going to go see if anyone here might have something more drinkable than this.” With a wave of a warm white wine glass, Morana disappeared smoothly into the crowd. 

Hob turned fully to Dream, ready to commence operation seduce-the-moody-goth-artist, despite having absolutely no idea what to say. Luckily, against all his expectations, Dream, appeared to be willing to talk to a complete stranger, if only about his work. 

“It is as my sister says. None of the pigments I used in this series are truly black, or anywhere close. If you look carefully, you can see.” Hob feels as faint as a Victorian maiden when Dream actually takes his wrist, long fingers delicately wrapping around his sleeve to pull him closer to the nearest canvas to demonstrate. “This series, this work, is about exploring the depths that can be found everywhere, if only one takes the slightest moment to actually look for them. It is not my fault that people so rarely take that moment to actually look at anything beyond their immediate impression.” 

Dream pauses, apparently socially aware enough to realise that a rant about human failings probably isn’t the best way to talk to someone that, for all he knows, could be a paying customer - not that Hob’s suit, or his shoes, make any promises about his ability to buy these works - the ‘price on request’ written on the exhibit list had confirmed that to him. But Hob was enamoured. Up close he can really see what Dream means, can see where the seemingly black canvas actually reveals itself as the deepest blues, purples, even greens glittering across the surface.

“Beautiful” he breathes. “Practically a playground, isn’t it?” He feels Dream freeze, the fingers still (still) clasping his shirt sleeve suddenly tensing, and he curses himself. What a way to stick his foot in it. Well done Hobsie. There’s negging and then there’s telling a man who works as an artist that his life’s work is just playing around. Bollocks.

But Dream, though stiff, doesn’t drop his wrist. If anything, he grips more tightly, fingers edging up, closer to bare skin. His eyes fly from the canvas to meet Hob’s. If Hob had felt like a Victorian maiden before, the sudden realisation that he could absolutely get off just from looking into Dream’s eyes and a touch to his bare wrist finished him off.

“You.” Add Dream’s breathy, breathless voice to the mix and Hob is off to heaven as well. Shame he absolutely wrecked his chance. “You would be the first person to say such a thing about my work.” Oh. Oh. Not a mouth-meet-foot moment. It may in fact precipitate a mouth-meet-something-quite-different moment Hob realised, staring into Dream’s darkening eyes.

“Really?”

“Mmm.” Dream was turned fully to Hob now. Hob realised how close they had become, a private moment in the middle of the ebb and flow of the art crowd in their corner. “People often see what they assume to be true. In me, as well as my art.”

“Too into the tortured artist ideal to see what’s underneath?” Hob quirked an eyebrow.

“Too enamoured of their assumptions to appreciate the potential for… personal enjoyment as well.” Hob had to take a conscious breath and loosen his fingers on his wine glass one by one. He debated just how inappropriate it would be to invite an artist to ditch their own exhibition opening for a shag right now or if he should wait around until the end of the opening, whenever that might be. They always said 9, but Dream’s crowd did not give off the atmosphere of a people who might allow an event to end before 3am. 

He was about to open his mouth to make the suggestion anyway when the crowd swelled once more, and Dream stumbled into him. In his loosened grip his wine immediately went everywhere, if everywhere was almost exclusively down his own front. Thank fuck it was white wine. Hob would not have coped with red wine stains on his singular dry-clean only shirt. 

“Oh dear.” He was barely surprised at how sorry Dream did not sound. “Let me take you to the office, I am sure there are towels back there. Maybe you can borrow one of my shirts.”

Hob was not convinced that a high end art gallery office space would stock towels, and much less convinced that he would fit into any Dream might wear. He was, however, not going to object as Dream used his grip on his wrist to weave through the crowd, utterly ignoring the various socialites waving tissues in a vain hope to catch the attention of the star artist. Looking past them too, Hob caught sight of Morena. His attempt to convey ‘sorry there’s been an unfortunate accident but I promise I will return your artist shortly and not get up to nefarious things with him in an absolutely not sound-proofed back office’ via eyebrows was swiftly and gleefully undermined by the salute she gave him with, what Hob couldn’t help but notice, was definitely a much nicer glass of wine than any of the other attendees.

He had little time to do much more than salute back before Dream was pushing him through a small door into a surprisingly large office space. As Hob stepped into the space, Dream leant back against the door, pushing it shut. The burble of the crowd through the walls didn’t entirely cover the sound of a lock clicking emphatically into place. “Just in case anyone tries to barge in.” Dream said, looking up at Hob like the picture of innocence through his eyelashes. “You know how people are at these things, always trying to get in places they shouldn’t.” Hob snorted. Dream stepped away from the door, walking towards a kitchenette on the far side of the room.

“And are we somewhere we shouldn’t be? I wouldn’t want to keep you from your adoring public after all.” Dream paused his rummage through the cupboards. From what Hob could see, those things had clearly never stocked anything more than empty coffee mugs and instant powder, and certainly didn’t currently contain anything as useful as a tea towel. 

“My sister runs this gallery. She organised this event. She can handle the crowd.” The lack of tea towels was swiftly going down as a problem in Hob’s estimation. The gap between Dream’s shirt and his leather trousers as he reached up into the cupboards however…

“Good to know,” Hob walked to Dream, stopping close enough that he wouldn’t be able to turn without brushing against Hob. “Any luck on the towels?” Dream’s huff is so clearly part amusement, part attraction, Hob can’t help but be flattered. Then Dream turns, carefully sliding his hips against Hob’s crotch and Hob feels his own breath being punched out of his lungs. Dream leans back, head tilted and a challenge clear in his sparkling eyes.

“No luck, tragically. You are going to have to take your shirt off. We can put it on the radiator to dry.” 

“And whatever shall I do, while I wait for it to dry? I’m not sure I can pull off the suit jacket without a shirt look. Certainly not as well as you could.” A rosy blush rises to Dream’s cheeks, but his face looks no less hungry.

“Oh, I don’t know, Hob Gadling. I think you could certainly give it a go. You might just become someone’s next muse.”

Hob can’t help it, as he looks at Dream’s smug face, at his beautiful rosy lips twitching like the cat who got the cream. He huffs out a laugh and leans forwards, hands coming to frame Dream’s bony hips and presses his lips to Dream’s.

[unsentlettersforpalestine]

Friday, April 12, 2024

To you, fellow human

What time did you get up? Did you get enough sleep? How was your morning? What did you have for breakfast? You took shower with clean water, didn't you? Did you hear some birds chirping ? The morning breeze was certainly very tranquilizing, wasn't it? You were able to do your morning routine without any hindrance, right? There might be some inconveniences during the day but overall it's been quite a good day, right?

While you are spending your day with your family, relatives, friends, coworkers, clients, neighbors, strangers, or even only by yourself, don't forget to take some time alone to express gratitude. Contemplate about all the blessings God has given to you. Realize that you are living a damn good life. Make no mistake, I am not trying to belittle your problems or the shit you've been dealing with, but trust me when I say: you're lucky. Because you really are.

You might unintentionally come up with some grievances about your life every now and then, but be brutally honest and tell me, on a scale from one to ten, how much you are grateful for your life? Five? Six? Seven? Eight? If your answer is under 5, then I am begging you, please, sit down for a couple of minutes and listen to me.

I know we all have our own problems—both major and minor. But tell me, has someone ever bombed your house? Have you ever felt afraid of being kidnapped or ruthlessly tortured or sexually assaulted or shot at? Have you ever lost a bunch of family members and relatives and neighbors and friends at the same time? Do you, by any chance, know what it feels to experience forced starvation not for a day, not for a week, but for a really long period of time? Have you ever ran out of water, electricity, and fuel for months? The answer for all these questions is a clear no, right?

You are lucky. I am lucky. We are all lucky. Because despite everything, we are living a decent life. We have all that we need (or most of what we need or whatever) and we have never gone through what Palestinians have been going through for more than 75 years. Even the biggest ordeal that we ever went through is nothing compared to what Palestinians are constantly going through.

Some of us might complain about the same/ similar menu we have on a regular basis, don't we ever realize what a luxury it is have enough foor and be able to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner every day? Palestinians are literally being starved to death by Israshit and some of them don't even have a small bag of flour to make simple bread and look at us, here we are shamelessly throwing our foods away. Palestinians feel happiest when they can get a bag of flour and a glass of drinkable water but here, we are constantly grousing over trivial matters—be it intentionally or unintentionally.

It's worth nothing that regardless of what our respective life looks like, we are all privileged. Because unlike Palestinians, we are living a pretty decent life. We are never living under continual brutal occupation. We are not being massacred. We are never going through a fucking genocide. We are safe. We are good, we truly are.

Just a friendly reminder that as a human being, we have a duty to bear witness, be in solidarity and support Palestinians in any shape or form. I am not asking you to ceaselessly watch harrowing pictures and videos coming out of Palestine. I am simply asking you to have some sympathy with them. Do something, anything, to help them. Use the voice that has been bestowed upon by God for you. Spread awareness. Educate yourself and the people around you about Palestinian cause. Go to the nearby protests if you can. Have uncomfortable conversations with both friends and strangers. Don't stop talking about Palestine. Always remember Palestinians in your day-to-day life. And most importantly, keep making prayer for them.

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

[paradoxolotl]

i know it's basic but i need to know what was going through andrew's head when he hears that aaron asked neil to kiss him in the jeans fic (im so sorry i can't actually remember the complete name of the fic in my mind its saved as the gay jeans fic)

Specific Fic Asks

I absolutely can do this for you anon ~ for It’s in the Jeans

~

Andrew’s life could be boiled down to three points of orbit:

His brother, Aaron. A minor pain in the ass on any day of the week that ended in y. Also the person who Andrew had crawled through hell with to build some semblance of normalcy. So for him, Andrew kept his complaining to a minimum.

Secondly, the neighbourhood stray cat. Andrew called it Worm. He also fed it after school every day, crouched in the bushes breaking up bits of ham with the paranoia levels of a small rodent.

And then there was Neil Josten. A major pain in Andrew’s ass every moment of every day, who was probably more feral than any street cat could dream to be. He’d complain more, used to complain more, but Andrew had recently found a better use of his time.

Because Neil’s kisses were a mind numbing, bone buzzing, oh too sweet addiction. Nothing in Andrew’s life had ever been as viciously satisfying as having Neil beneath him, one hand tipping the menace’s head back for a better angle, the other ghosting fingertips across the sensitive skin of his stomach just to feel the muscles jump.

It was too easy to lose himself in this, in Neil. Minutes were meaningless, the world falling away, and Andrew found himself halfway drunk with just Neil’s mouth against the skin of his neck. Nothing on earth could pull him from this moment, his Eden. Nothing-

There was a clattering bang from Aaron’s room. Odd enough to rip Andrew from the haze clouding his mind. But when no other noises followed, no cries of distress, it only took his name, whispered quiet and reverent, to pull him back to Neil. The fingers on his jaw helped him along, until he was sinking sinking drowning.

“I tried!” This time, not even Neil’s breath on his neck or hands in Andrew’s hair could distract him from Aaron’s shout.

Annoyance flicked up within him, simmering in his blood. Whatever fucking melodramatic bullshit Aaron found himself floundering in could not be worth-

“I asked Neil to kiss me-”

The thing about Andrew was this: he didn’t care about much. Most things in his life were revolving time passers, some more pleasant than others. But when he found something that burrowed past everything else, something worth calling his, Andrew cared a whole damn lot. Some might call it obsessive, concerning, unhealthy. Bee called it a trauma response. Andrew called it practical, because those few things he cared about could be taken away too quickly, too easily.

And the thing about Neil was this: he was Aaron’s before he was Andrew’s.

Andrew’s hand slammed into the wall before he registered what his body was doing, the beat of his heart slamming from excited to pretending not to panic. An unfortunate event, due to snapping both Aaron and Nicky’s attention to him and his complete loss of composure. Part of him wanted to glance back, to see if he really had just abandoned Neil to throw himself into whatever fucking mess this was, but Andrew’s brain was still screaming WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK RED ALERT on full power.

He knew Nicky was saying something, the noises hitting his ears, but he couldn’t process them. Eyes locked on his twin, Andrew all but demanded, “What did you just say?”

By Aaron’s concerned confusion, Andrew had clearly missed the mark. “The fuck were you doing?”

Neil, he thought. But he couldn’t very well say that to Aaron, especially when Aaron wore the same expression he did when they had watched a man sprint from beneath a bridge and disappear into the woods when they were ten. Quickly righting himself, Andrew attempted to infuse his voice with his usual nonchalance. “Nothing,” he said. Completely fine, totally normal. Not weird at all. “What did you say about Neil?”

For a moment, Aaron narrowed his eyes at him. As if Aaron had ever been able to break Andrew with his judgement. But then he shrugged, and Andrew felt his stomach drop with the cocky smile that spread across his face. “Oh, just asked if I could kiss him. No big deal.” Smug. Smiling. Bastard. “Why?” Aaron asked. Like an asshole. “Did you need something?”

Yeah, Andrew needed the world to stop falling from beneath his feet. Because Neil was a prickly fucker, untrusting and vicious. He held his people just as tightly as Andrew held his. Andrew spent years studying him, falling hard and fast and lasting, but the one thing that remained elusive was why Neil had fallen for Andrew too.

And deep down, a small voice whispered that if anyone could catch Neil and take him from Andrew, it would be Aaron.

Only one person had ever been able to quiet that voice. What did Andrew need? He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, back to Neil. “Yeah. I just-“ Nope. Uh huh. Brain hadn’t reset yet. Abort. Abort, Minyard. “Need to-“ Phenomenal. His mouth just wouldn’t stop. Is this what Neil felt like?

Well, time to abandon ship.

He didn’t feel any steadier when the door closed behind him, but his eyes zeroed in on Neil. Still sprawled on his back on Andrew’s floor, he looked up with a crooked smile, laughter tucked into the corners.

“Oh, right,” he said softly, unapologetic. “Your brother asked to kiss me.”

Andrew swallowed. His throat clicked. His shoulders pressed harder against his door.

At the silence, Neil’s smile turned a little softer. “I said no.”

“You said no.” His voice remained flat, neutral in the way he always used when expecting something to hurt.

Sighing, Neil rocked his knee in the air. Not jittery. Not nervous, just…moving. “Because I didn’t want to.”

“I asked you,” Andrew said.

Neil hummed. “And I wanted to. Still do, if you ever decide I’m more interesting than your wall. Or I could leave and you can brood and mope or whatever people with on overgrown sense of doom and despair do.”

“Really?” Andrew asked, even as he pushed off the door, falling back on top of Neil and into his grin. “You’re not funny.”

“Never said I was,” Neil said, words a laugh.

Neil had always been a point of clarity. An impossible piece in Andrew’s life he could never stray from, despite his efforts in the beginning.

His hands found their home in Andrew’s hair, dimple flickering out alongside his mirth. Quietly, he said, “It’s just you, Andrew.”

And Andrew believed him, and let everything else fall away.

[cursedvibes]

Happy holiday.... What do you think that made Yuuji is so likeable as a character? I've only been in the JJK fandom for a year, and I've seen a lot of other JJK characters' stan. But one thing in common, they all love Yuuji and mostly will include him in their top 5 fav JJK charas (including me :D)...

Also, extra kudos cause your blog is anti-gojo. Most of my moots love him and can't stop talking about him. I already tell them that I don't really like him (actually I hate him), they're okay but still so into him. So I'm so happy when I found your blog.

What do you think that made gojo so famous? Is it the pretty face and bad personality (I'm still confused until now)....? I dislike gojo kinda like I dislike dazai from BSD. They're both called "The one who stole the spotlight from the protagonist" (by my animanga group)....

Happy holidays to you to, hope you had a good time

I think it's pretty hard not to like Yuuji. Even if you aren't that interested in his character, due to his friendly personality and plenty of cute moments it's hard to hate him. I think this Pure Sunshine Boy interpretation (that I don't entirely agree with) is the main reason fans are drawn to him. The suffering he has to endure and how he continues to grow from it is quite fascinating to witness as well. What I personally like about him is also how he has a darker side to him, that pure hatred he has reserved for Sukuna and Mahito, but which we also saw when he beat up bullies as a middle schooler. He's not just sunshine and rainbows, he has a quite serious and lonely side to him he often hides from others and that is the reason he used to not have many friends until recently. Fits with his morbid obsession with death and how he is prepared to die and wants to die to pay for everything he's done despite being so young.

Looking at fan interpretations of him, I'm not sure that's why he's in the top 3 of the popularity polls, but it's what I like about him. The main criticism I see of him is that people think he's too weak to be the main character of a shonen series and isn't the centre of attention enough, but I think that's pretty stupid and thankfully it's only a (loud) minority of people who think that. I'm glad he deviates from the shonen formula there.

Now for Gojo, I first have to say that I wouldn't consider myself "anti-Gojo". I often think he's annoying and recent developments in the manga led to me complaining about him a lot, but I don't actually hate him, not the way I do with Geto, Yuuta or at times Choso. His fans can get on my nerves a lot and I think he was written very badly after being released from the Prison Realm, but usually I don't care about him. I like his high school self actually, before he got so overpowered, his faults were more interesting there.

I think the majority of his popularity is because he's a pretty white-haired anime guy with cool powers and part of a popular yaoi couple, i.e. you got some dramatic feels mixed in there as well. That seems to be the gist of what I see online as reasoning for why people like him and what made him famous when the anime started airing. There are deeper reasons too (best ask a Gojo fan for those), but his looks, iconic blindfold design and relationship with Geto seem to be the main things people are drawn to. Things like that are often what's most important in making a character popular.

[greycappedjester]

Hi I just wanted to let you know how much I LOVE reading about your Bart (your side story included) and I heard he's one of your favorite characters to write! So I can't help but ask how well do you think Comic!Bart and ATFO!Bart would get along or react around each other given how... different the two ended up personality wise? You know, given ATFO!Bart's much more ruthless and cautious nature and Comic!Bart more innocent outlook on the world and his more impulsive (Haha get it?) behavior.

I mean it makes sense as they both originally came from post-apocalyptic time lines but Comic!Bart was put in a VR simulation most of his childhood so he avoided the worst of it. ATFO!Bart on the other hand though? He LIVED through it for better or worst.

Not to mention, the different type of relationship they had with Wally. Do you think ATFO!Bart would be a bit jealous of the other Bart? That HIS Wally was still around but they just... don't have as close of a relationship? Or do you think he'd encourage him to listen to him more often and try to form a stronger bond?

Heck- what is Comic!Bart's thoughts on ATFO!Bart's general "everything"? Would he be a bit weirded out by his dimensional counterpart? Heh, sorry about the large question dump. I just love your story so much I'm just... a bit excited to hear your take on them lol.

Wow, I really enjoy this ask, thank you!

Sooo, I guess this gets more into first how I consider the comic!Bart who I really enjoy but honestly I feel like it's really hard to get a writer who does him completely right (imo). You either get ones who lean way too much into the goofball nature to the point that they want to make him the token "stupid" member rather than just a person who fundamentally was raised in a different world. Or you get people who lean too much into the angst and we get the better-to-forget Flash!Bart or that weird New52 run when he was a future terrorist or something, idek.

Oof, I had to dig back way in my comics for this...but, actually I feel like the truly best bit of Bart characterization comes from Impulse #1 way back in 1995.

I'm cutting this down a lot since it's a lot of pages; but, these bits in particular:

I feel like this is the essence of Bart Allen.

He is the perpetual stranger in a strange land (only no one else realizes it's strange but him). He has to learn a lot of completely new things very, very quickly and--for the most part--he does it so well that people kinda ignore the fact that that's a huge thing to ask. In all worlds, he basically had to raise himself from early in his own life (and honestly, I feel like the 90s comics really ignore how objectively horrifying it would be to constantly live in a video game...like we have multiple animes on how that's basically a horror scenario. Like that was his life, he did live through it). Despite this, he has family who he dearly loves and admires....who he nonetheless feels very disconnected from and possibly even unwanted due to how different he is from them.

But, despite all of this, Bart doesn't really complain. Like, sure, in comics he'll complain or pout about minor things from Max or teenage stuff...but, the major things like adjusting to an entirely new life, it's almost as if Bart doesn't even notice how crazy that is because really is life is just that crazy (it's the norm). Even his dialogue here, which unusually blunt compared to how he normally is written, isn't speaking of any of this stuff as any great tragedy...it's just his life.

And I think the most heartbreaking thing is the crossed out line about his Grandma Iris that implies that there's the only person he ever felt really cared for him (whether that's true or not doesn't matter, it's currently what he beleives)...and he couldn't keep her.

So back to the question at hand, I definitely went with a more mature take to ATFO!Bart because his world was more grim (with Comic!Bart the videogame consequences were presumably constantly eraased which is a different kind of existential crises). But, despite this, I think the two Barts still share a lot of similarities that would make them get along fairly well. Similarly, I think Grandma Iris is to Comics!Bart what Wally is to ATFO!Bart so I think they'd understand each other fairly well. ATFO!BArt would still enjoy seeing a Wally even if I don't think he'd be particularly hurt by that Wally not being close to his Bart since I think ATFO!BArt really does fully understand how much the difference in timelines affects people and knows it's not his Wally.

Put another way, I also don't really think Bart has an expectation of people being close to him (in any form) so isn't really surprised about Wally and Comics!Bart. Bart really does view himself apart as a norm--partly since it's so hard to connect to people when he's literally living at a different speed than them. He likes people a lot and deeply loves his friends/family; but, I think he does often stuggle to connect to them. I think this is likely true for all Barts.

That's Bart Allen. The Impossible Boy. The Too Familiar Stranger. And He's Always Smiling (Real or Not).

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

North Carolina Senate Republicans filed legislation Monday to strip Gov. Roy Cooper of power to appoint State Board of Elections members, intensifying a years-long struggle over state government powers between the GOP-led General Assembly and the Democratic Governor.

The unveiling of the bill came almost two hours after a panel Cooper created recommended changes designed to ease the current GOP dominance of University of North Carolina governing boards.

The dueling proposals escalate the clash between Cooper and the General Assembly to reshape the balance of power within government in the final weeks of the year’s main legislative session. Still, Republicans maintain the upper hand after regaining veto-proof control of the legislature in April.

The current state board has five members appointed by the Governor — three Democrats and two Republicans from candidate lists made by state party leaders.

Under the GOP bill filed Monday, legislative leaders would appoint all eight members. The Senate leader, House speaker and House and Senate minority leaders would pick two apiece but wouldn’t be obligated to choose from the party’s nominations — raising the possibility that unaffiliated voters could serve.

The board administers elections in the ninth-largest state, a presidential battleground where over 7 million voters are registered and statewide elections are usually close.

Republicans say having an even number of members will support consensus building on the board. They’ve complained often about the Democratic-controlled board entering a legal settlement in 2020 over absentee ballot rules that the GOP says ignored state laws.

“The voters of North Carolina should have faith that members of the Board of Elections can work together to conduct free and fair elections without any perception of bias,” Sen. Warren Daniel of Burke County, a bill sponsor, said at a Legislative Building news conference.

The bill is scheduled for committee debate Wednesday. Senate leader Phil Berger told reporters that House GOP counterparts support the state board appointment changes. The bill also would direct legislative leaders from both parties to pick four-member election boards for all 100 counties. Berger’s office said expected amendments would make the state board changes happen immediately and the county board changes effective in 2024.

In a news release, Senate Minority Leader Dan Blue, a Wake County Democrat, called the bill a “power grab, plain and simple” that “would create more gridlock and uncertainty in our elections system.”

Cooper sued over previous state election board laws approved since late 2016, and courts ruled in his favor, saying the board’s compositions by the GOP prevented him from having control over carrying out elections laws. Registered Republicans now hold a 5-2 seat majority on the state Supreme Court.

Separate legislation being negotiated by House and Senate Republicans this year also would take more appointment powers away from governors on several key state boards, including state and local community college boards. GOP leaders have said more accountability and diversity of thought are needed on important boards that Cooper’s appointees control.

Speaking to unveil recommendations of a blue-ribbon commission led by former UNC system presidents Tom Ross and Margaret Spellings, Cooper said he hoped Republicans would now also consider seriously its suggestions to diversify the UNC Board of Governors and trustee boards at 16 campuses.

“Here the legislature controls pretty much everything in higher education. So diversifying appointment authority here is a good idea,” Cooper said at an Executive Mansion news conference. “I don’t know why it wouldn’t be here if it is there.”

For 50 years, the legislature has chosen the voting members of the system Board of Governors ― with half of the current 24 elected by the House and the other half by the Senate. In the 2010s, Republicans filled the board with like-minded members and ultimately pushed out Ross and later Spellings from the presidency. The legislature also stripped from the Governor appointments to campus trustee boards.

Cooper and others argue that the boards need to better reflect the state’s population as it relates to race, gender and political views.

The commission recommended the General Assembly keep electing UNC Board of Governors members, but that lawmakers return to electing 32 members as they did for decades. The minority party in the two chambers would get to select combined eight of those members. Sixteen members would be picked from specific regions of the state. The panel also recommended that the governor get to pick four of the 15 seats on UNC campus trustee boards, but that wouldn’t take effect until January 2025, after Cooper leaves office.

[echoing-oursong]

i really need ronancers to stop complaining about ‘toxic stobin people who just can’t let us live our lives and have to make everything about steve’ and blah blah blah. bro you shippers are literally the majority and you get feed every single time. i’ve legit done my own research and ronance literally has more fics on ao3 than stobin does without any other ships. i’ve legit filtered out all other the ships in both sections and y’all are doing numbers around stobin and people who love stobin. y’all need to stop acting like you’re the minority or whatever in this fandom cuz people who love and create stobin content are being swarmed by y’all.

[olderthannetfic]

I've read up about sensitivity readers as a service but something about it still feels off pouring to me? I get the concept and I guess on paper it's a noble cause, but idk if stories should be striving for "sensitivity" on the basis of a single reader/editor. Do you have any particular feelings or insight on the practice?

--

Sensitivity readers have been around for a while. When operating as intended, the practice is both good and not a big deal. They're just a cultural knowledge beta with a more inflammatory title.

The version that exists within a thousand miles of YA twitter and its ilk is a hot mess.

--

See, in the ideal circumstance, what these people should be is a paid editor who does a read for specific cultural gaffes.

They'd be working alongside the main editor who'd hopefully have time for developmental notes (okay, they never do this now, but ideally), copy editors, etc. A bunch of people are taking a look at this book before it goes out into the world. The sensitivity reader is merely more familiar with some particular area, probably their own cultural background, so they can spot things the rest of the editors and the author might miss.

It's just the more professional version of some dude writer being like "Hey, female friend, would you mind reading my manuscript and telling me what you think of the female characters?"

--

Now, near the cesspit of groupthink and intellectual incuriousity that is YA twitter and in other places like that, people have come to behave as though one sensitivity reader can read for everything, not just their own personal background. They talk as though there is one objective standard for whether something is offensive and as though causing offense is the worst crime in the world.

This attitude is poison, and it's how you get assholes passing themselves off as authorities on all ethnic strife ever, then writing cartoonish villains the minute they include a setting outside of the US.

(As a sidebar, it is deeply unsurprising to find that this jackass complained about women profiting off of m/m. Beware the people who think they personally are the unique arbiter of everything. It always devolves somehow into "Buy my book, not theirs".)

A lot of loudmouths desperately wish to do this work, always talking about it as though it's a beautiful opportunity to browbeat others for a lack of wokeness. It's always the biggest clowns too. (Mardoll, for example, while whining about the attack helicopter story.)

--

And yet, sensitivity readers exist outside of the toxic waste dump that is book twitter. I can see why the idea puts your back up, but it's time to unclench.

Yeah, one member of a minority is not the ultimate arbiter of what is Objectively Offensive Forever, but that's not actually a sensitivity reader's job. They're one set of feedback among various. There's no guarantee a copy editor will catch absolutely every typo either. If you had time for 5 sensitivity readers, maybe that would be useful, but it's probably more useful to pick someone you trust. Evaluating and paring down all the feedback you get is one of the major jobs of an author after all.

It's really no different than having a cop read over your crime procedural for silly Hollywood nonsense you didn't realize was false and a cliche.

We do this kind of double-checking over less fraught topics all the time without a problem. Writers just get very tense when they hear the term 'sensitivity reader' because it makes them think of mobs of wokescolds and of their book being secretly irredeemably racist. In reality, a good quality sensitivity reader might tell you that a joke doesn't land because of some cultural detail you missed. They're not there to harass you. They're a professional you hired to help with your book.

Sensitivity readers are fine as long as we treat them as what they are—cultural betas—and not as an official guarantee of Not Problematic And Can Never Offend Anyone.

[ghoooooooooooooooost]

i had to reread n edit this before posting like i was going over an essay jesus christ ((tristamp spoilers))

tldr; i was honestly disappointed but i still don't think it was completely awful + i hope if they do a 2nd season it's better *wants to see milly*.... fuck the director though

EDIT!!! 2nd season was confirmed so you can ignore the points where i question if it will happen lol

EDIT 2 actually idt i'll watch the 2nd season... for reasons that just hit me so.... + fuck night*w as well

most of this was written before the finale eek

the major problems were that the pacing was soooooo weird n some of the changes (both story wise and design wise) they made were questionable esp towards the latter half

my positive points:

i do still think individual eps at the first half were really good

i loved the animation + how they used colors

the backgrounds are cool

the artstyle shift in wolfwood's flashback was cool

i've always been "ok" abt vashwood honestly (sorry) but i will acknowledge they were very yaoiful here. i saw a person who didn't ship vashwood say the ep in tristamp where they literally just met made them ship it which was really funny bc how did that change your mind so fast

i'm ngl the milly + eriks name drops made me *JAWDROP* but that's something that only matters to ppl who watched/read the ogs first

my negative points (uh oh):

white washed wolfwood (+ his skintone is soo inconsistent in merch)

they gave vash no room to breathe n he doesn't get big sillay moments after ep 3

^ this is true for every character except i guess roberto? more on roberto later

^^^ goes with the previous too points but it felt like they were way too focused on the drama n sadness without enough (long lasting) happy or hopeful moments to contrast or balance it out overall - to the point were the characterization of our main cast suffered for it bc there wasn't enough there with them to make that properly work. and THEN the silly moments ended up suffering too bc they start feeling out of place. the drama beats kept happening one after the other at breakneck speed without breaks, messing up the pacing as well (i can kinda blame this at least partially on the fact they only had 12 eps when the og was 26 eps but i've watched plenty of 12 ep series with great pacing so i don't really know what happened here?)

i disagreed with this at first, but the lore with vash being front-loaded really did hurt the story a bit in the long run. obviously they did still spread the full details out over the course of the show but it was :\

specific to "the running man"- it's my fav ep tbh but it was strange how all the townsfolk were partying w the nebraskas with no indication they'd arrest them after they did so much damage n vash didn't even get to fix the damaged plant?? so why were they so joyous when the initial problem wasn't solved?

roberto.... was such a weird character... he managed to be both a dick n a guy w no personality, he was there to give exposition + attempt to be funny? n then die. also the marketing staff fucking hates him he's never in any merch wtf ((edited after the finale: well now we know he wasn't meant to replace milly (i had a whole paragraph complaining abt that lol) + now i feel like they added him just to kill someone other than wolfwood off))

i can't speak much on elendria bc i had so much trouble reading trimax forever ago that i never retained anything abt her other than she's trans, but everything involving her in tristamp felt strange/ like it didn't work. i have essentially same feeling about livio here. they threw legato to the side??

what the fuck was the thing with the plants towards the end. it just hit me what the hell

minor nitpicks:

i miss the old anime's ost :( tristamp's ost isn't bad by any means n there are tracks that i really like it's just idk man. especially with the the op song, i couldn't get myself to not skip the op SORRY. could you imagine how hype it would've been if a new rendition of H.T. or NO-BEAT started playing

i'm fine with stamp vash's design (blasphemous i know) but man would'n've one of his og coat designs worked well in 3d? i feel like it would've ((added after the finale: the new coat did look nice in black + they brought back his old hair in the last ep tho so. MAYBE... IN SEASON 2.... CLASSIC COAT....? *delusional*))

NO LOVE & PEACE?!?!?!?!

one of my nitpick points was that they technically didn't give vash the black hair bc i really wanna see it animated one day but assuming they are teasing a season 2 maybe they will eventually. but then how...?

[iboatedhere]

Back at the loft, TK insists upon returning the favor, even though Carlos insists that’s not the way a bet works. 

“I’m offering to suck your dick and you’re complaining?” TK asks as he walks backwards into the bedroom, his fingers tangled in the front of Carlos’ shirt as he pulls him along. 

“Not complaining,” Carlos says as he lets himself be pulled. “Just saying that we shouldn’t have called it a bet if we were both going to win.”

TK rolls his eyes then cups Carlos’ through his pants, grinning when Carlos moans. 

“Please,” TK tells him, “like you didn’t love getting me off in that dark, dirty supply closet. This is separate. An isolated incident.”

“I guess that’s allowed,” Carlos says as TK turns them around and pushes Carlos back against the bed. 

Carlos’ brain is still foggy when he hears his phone buzzing somewhere in the room. 

TK had tossed all their clothes to the floor before sucking his soul out of his body and leaving him a boneless mess in the middle of the end. 

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he says, arm thrown over his face, ignoring his phone in favor of praising TK. 

“I can’t show you everything I have up front,” TK answers from somewhere in the room. “I have to keep you interested. Babe. This is blowing up.”

Carlos lifts his arm and watches TK pull his phone out of his pants pocket. 

“Who is it?”

“Chris.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know.” TK squints down at the screen, trying to read the banner message. “It looks like that gif from Ace Ventura where Jim Carrey is dancing in the tu-tu. Does your agent send you memes?” He tosses the phone onto Carlos’ chest then walks into the bathroom. “That’s fun.”

Carlos frowns as he unlocks the phone and skims through the texts. He sits up as he rereads the first text, like it’s going to help him make sure he’s understanding what it says.

“What’s the matter?” TK is standing in the doorway, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand and Carlos swallows hard.

“Um…he’s just telling me that unofficially, the Astros want to sign me to the team next season. A major league contract, full time.”

TK’s eyes go wide as he tosses the brush and the toothpaste back toward the sink before rushing forward to throw his arms around Carlos.

“Babe,” he says, pushing Carlos back against the mattress as he peppers his face with kisses. “Baby, I am so proud of you, this is so exciting.” He pulls back, his hands braced on Carlos’ chest. “Why aren’t you more excited?”

“I am excited,” Carlos says. “But it’s not official yet, a lot could still happen.”

“Are you going to tell your parents?”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, god no. Not until it’s official and there’s a contract in front of me. Honestly, I don’t even know if Chris was supposed to tell me. I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

TK leans down to kiss his forehead. “Your secret is safe with me, I promise.” He pokes at Carlos’ cheeks then physically pushes his lips up into a smile before Carlos bats his hands away. “This is a good thing,” TK tells him. “This is what it’s all about.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” TK says, “someone with your kind of talent shouldn’t be wasting away in the minors.”

“I’m not wasting—.”

TK presses his fingertip to Carlos’ lip to quiet him. “You know what I mean. You deserve this and you’ve earned this and if I thought you could go again I’d be giving you a celebratory blow job right now.”

Carlos laughs and TK smiles.

“I’ll save it for when you sign the contract,” TK tells him and Carlos wraps his hand around the back of his neck to pull him down for another kiss.

[sir-mantis]

Soul Hackers 2

This was an incredible game for me. It’s now tied with Persona 5 Royal for my absolute favorite megaten game, even surpassing it in some areas. Everything from the story, the characters, music, and gameplay I thoroughly enjoyed.

I love the games art style and presentation. The character designs and portraits are really well drawn and expressive. It was my introduction to Shirow Miwa’s work and I’m already a fan! I also love the design and vibe of the many hubs like Karakucho and the Roppo Realm.

All of the characters are so well rounded and just full of personality; they all have their own goals, motivations, and don’t start immediately as friends which I love. After a while they kind of come together in a found family kind of dynamic and it feels so natural throughout the story, especially if you complete their Soul Matrix floors and invite them to hangout events. Hangout events were nice little rewards to side quests and completing parts of the story, nice humorous moments where the characters bounce off each other so well. The voice acting in the game is stellar, everyone does an amazing job here.

The standout character for me is Ringo. She’s my absolute favorite protagonist now in this series. I’m so glad Atlus decided on her to be the protagonist, and for her to have an actual character. Her journey to learn to connect with others as well as her humor and charisma, I found to be mega endearing. A great balance of quirky and sarcastic that never gets grating after a while. And she’s got a great design that is fun to draw lmao.

The story does start off a bit simple, but grows into this interesting personal story about putting an end to conflict and learning to communicate with others. Both of these story beats really spoke to me on a personal level, and on an inspirational level for my own writing. Watching these characters develop as you complete the Soul Matrix was a huge incentive for me to get the true ending. Unlocking the true ending was a fun game of balancing the group’s soul levels, and it was extremely satisfying to unlock on my first playthrough. Without going into spoilers, I’d view the bad ending first, then view the true ending. The bad ending strengthens the true ending to a huge degree for me, but both play to the themes touched on in the story very well.

I found the gameplay to be very fun, the sabbath system is a a pretty cool mechanic. Strategizing on maximizing stacks and damage kept me entertained throughout. The ways you can gain stacks really opens up when you get some character skills from the Soul Matrix. Upgrading the groups COMPs and demons to best fit certain play styles and boss fights was also very fun. Speaking of boss fights, I really liked all the major boss fights here. They all have a nice challenge and they complimented the sabbath system very well.

The soundtrack really grew on me as the game went on. Hopeless Call is an amazing song for the opening intro and the credits theme still makes me swell up in tears. The final boss theme is incredible, probably my favorite of the OST. Some of my other favorites from the OST are the normal boss fight theme, COMP smith theme, and the Axis theme. I do wish there were more than one track for the dungeons besides the final one and the Soul Matrix though. Overall, a great OST!

The dungeons are probably the game’s weakest part but they didn’t really bother me. Besides the final dungeon, I do wish they were a bit more visually interesting but it is what it is. I also wish some side quests like the Aion directives had more variety to them. Some of my other minor complaints like Ringo’s speed and encounter rates are getting updated this month so I can’t really complain too much about them.

This game really surprised me. I went into it thinking it was going to be an enjoyable enough experience, but left out of it really adoring it. Soul Hackers 2 more than earned it’s spot in Amazing on my tier list, and it’s my personal game of the year.